James was nodding his head vigorously, trying to take it all in. ‘Systems? Are you talking about machines? Did they talk for you? Were they all one kind, or were there many different machines to control the different functions performed by the body? Who manned the machines? If none of you had bodies, who kept them working?’
DuQuelle shot him an irritated glance. ‘You’re just the type that got us into this scrape in the first place. No, I won’t answer your questions. You might try the whole thing over again, here. And it would end, again, in disaster. It is a relief though, that your questions are so rudimentary. Machines! Really. You have a long way to go; though as time progresses, to Katie’s time, there is more to worry about.’
James’s cheeks flamed with anger, but Alice put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘These systems, why were they a mistake?’ she asked.
DuQuelle shivered and seemed to shrink within his black frock coat. ‘It was catastrophic. We had gone too far. There was no technology, no system that could live up to our ambition.’ DuQuelle began to perspire and sniffed the air anxiously. ‘I can’t even begin to find the words.’
‘Melt down,’ Katie said. ‘I think that’s what you’re looking for. It must have been bad.’
‘Did you all die then?’ James asked. ‘Or at least most of you, I mean, you are here.’
‘We were nearly extinct,’ DuQuelle said. ‘Those who survived had lost something vital. We had no language, written or verbal, no speech. That had disappeared. Our ability to communicate in any way was fatally impaired. And it turned out that words were our meat, our drink, our water and our air. Communication was our primary means of survival, what is the term Katie might use? Our major source of energy? Without it we could not live.’
‘What did you do?’ Alice asked.
DuQuelle looked almost apologetic.
‘We remembered you – a primitive civilization, yes, but you could communicate, and that was crucial. By this time you had evolved, past the initial symbols and grunts and gestures to a series of quite sophisticated dialects. The Babylonians and the Hebrews were particularly impressive. Today you speak over 5,000 dialects.’
‘You mean languages,’ James corrected.
‘No,’ said DuQuelle. ‘I mean dialects. You all speak the same language. But it is a marvellous resource. We have been importing it ever since. It’s what keeps us alive.’
James’s anger was mounting. ‘You take our language, against our will?’ he said.
‘Really James,’ DuQuelle responded. ‘It’s not that different from what England does in India, Africa or China. You take gold and diamonds, silk and tea. We take words. Think of yourselves as one big colony, overseen by a benevolent if unknown imperialist.’
Katie thought James might slug DuQuelle. ‘So you feed off our words,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ DuQuelle replied, ‘we need a constant supply. We can only speak through your words; our own thoughts and ideas must be lifted from your thoughts, your ideas. Sometimes I have the most terrible trouble finding the right word. I think on such a higher level, you see.’
Katie chose not to be annoyed, she was too curious.
‘But what about Lucia, and Belzen?’ she asked. ‘Why are they here? I know now it’s not just to find me, or even the other two time travellers. And what is the Verus? And the Malum?’
‘It all relates to communication,’ DuQuelle answered. ‘We were so dependent on this resource, we couldn’t let you squander it. We had to watch you carefully. But as we watched, we began to judge, and our judgements differed.’ DuQuelle’s affected dandyism had long ago deserted him. He shifted slightly towards the fire, always seeking warmth. ‘Some of us wished to make you better,’ he continued, ‘or at least better by their own lights. They wanted to interfere in your world to bring about their notion of morality. The continous “refining” we value so highly. One might call it moral colonization.’ He smiled weakly at Katie. ‘You have said you’ve seen Lucia?’ he asked. Katie nodded. ‘She is the leader,’ he said drily, ‘of the Verus. She sees herself as the guardian of all that is right. Not that right is always related to good, but then nuance has never been Lucia’s strong point.’ DuQuelle lost himself in the fire.
‘Why is Lucia here?’ Katie asked.
‘It was one of her brilliant ideas to keep the precious commodity of communication safe – she would change mankind,’ he continued, a note of bitterness in his voice. ‘The Verus discovered that while we could not stay in your world, we could use humans to carry out changes. It’s known as the Great Experiment.’
Alice looked hurt, and very shocked. This defied everything she had ever been taught. What was progress, or goodness or faith if humankind were nothing more than puppets? She wished Leopold was not hearing this. ‘You’ve been experimenting with us?’ she asked quietly.
DuQuelle moved his walking stick out of James O’Reilly’s reach.
‘Yes, but please do understand: I am not a member of the Verus. I never agreed with the Great Experiment, and now my doubts have been justified. There was also a selfish side to the actions of the Verus. Lucia was certain you would start a war that would destroy your world. With you would go our ability to communicate.’
DuQuelle glanced briefly at Katie. ‘I’m certain this is very strange, and frankly, quite foreign to you. But now we will talk, of what is familiar, and should be comforting. We will talk of you, Katie.’ Katie looked away from DuQuelle. Nothing he said was ever comforting.
‘The central idea of the Great Experiment was to send a child from another time to this century. You see, a child would be so much easier to manipulate, to carry out the changes the Verus wished.’
‘Katie isn’t a child,’ James interrupted. ‘We are all much older than that.’ DuQuelle sighed. The young were always in such a hurry to shed childhood. They wouldn’t make such haste if they knew what was to come.
‘No, Katie is no longer a child,’ he conceded. ‘And that’s part of the flaw in the Verus’s plans. The key to the Great Experiment is the written word. The Verus has the ability to take your words and transform them. The words can be used as a form of travel. And when the right child reads the right words, they can fly through time. These children are exceptional, gifted. They are known as the Tempus Fugit.’
Katie couldn’t help but feel ever so slightly pleased. ‘Exceptional, gifted’ – she never thought of herself that way. Alice looked at her with new admiration. James though had his suspicions. ‘So what’s this flaw in the Verus’s plans?’ he asked. DuQuelle gave his short, barking laugh.
‘The Great Experiment is still in its early stages. The Verus’s powers are limited,’ he explained. ‘They can choose the words, but cannot choose the child. The child must choose, have the ability to travel, to fly through time, the gift of the Tempus. The Verus don’t always get the type of child they want, or even a child at all. There have been a few botched attempts.’ He looked at Katie, who chose to ignore the look.
‘What about the child who destroys the world?’ James asked. Katie could have kicked him.
‘One cannot pin that upon Lucia,’ DuQuelle said. ‘The Verus wants peace. But there is a splinter of our society who desires the exact opposite. They think they have found an alternative resource to communication. They have located huge quantities of brute force. They think we can live off this. They wish to destroy this world and make us all dependent on the Malum. They have tampered with the Verus’s Great Experiment. They have sent their own child, not a Tempus Fugit, who flies through time, but a Tempus Occidit – one who falls through time. This is the child who brings the war to end the world.’
‘Who leads this other group? It’s Mr Belzen, isn’t it?’ Katie asked.
‘Yes, Belzen. He rebelled from the Verus, bringing other discontents with him to form the Malum. It was a terrible time for us. One didn’t know whom to trust, and I learned to trust no one. Obstinate and domineering as Lucia is, she at least does stand for good. A rather one-dimensional go
od, but good none the less. Belzen – he is corrupt, swollen with greed and ambition. You’ve seen the shape he takes?’
‘Only from the back,’ Katie said.
‘That explains why you survived. He can take human shape briefly, but the moment he is angered or excited he becomes what is within him. I don’t believe a human can survive seeing that.’
For Katie this was too much. Over the past months she, James and Alice had gathered the parts of this puzzle, but it was a horrifying thing, piecing it together. Yet DuQuelle hadn’t answered the question that had haunted her day and night. She took a deep breath. ‘Which child am I?’ she asked.
James moved quickly, to stand between Katie and DuQuelle, and Alice put a protective arm around her friend. ‘You can’t possibly think Katie is that evil child,’ she protested. ‘She is not bringing a war to end the world.’
Katie looked to DuQuelle. ‘I just can’t be,’ she said, almost pleading.
DuQuelle patted her hand, a rare and gentle gesture. His smile was weak, but reassuring. ‘I don’t think you can be, my dear. When we were alone, I saw the mushroom cloud within your eyes, but I also saw your defiance of it. Your world might be on the brink of destruction, but you will fight it to the end. You have great potential, Katie: intelligence, clear-sightedness and a longing to give and get friendship and love. These are not the traits one finds in the destroyer of the world. Plus, you are quite good company. I find I do not have it in myself to smother you with a pillow. You are not to be sent off into eternity. But neither can you remain here. You all must see how great the danger is. My apologies to the Princess, but her little friend must leave this time as soon as possible. Katie’s destination must be her own time, though I do dread the fallout when it’s discovered.’
‘But we told you, we’ve tried to send Katie back,’ James cut in.
‘Yes, you’ve tried, and a jolly good try for a boy your age too.’ DuQuelle patted James on the head, knowing how much he would hate it. ‘Let’s just say I have capabilities that tiny bit beyond yours. I will meet you tonight at the Palace – midnight – at the spot where Katie first appeared. I have some planning and searching to do first.’
‘Will you be alone?’ Katie asked. It was still very hard to trust Bernardo DuQuelle. Again, he seemed to read her thoughts. She did wish he would stay out of her head.
‘I will try to keep my more unsavoury acquaintances away from our midnight tryst… but time is not with us… we can but hope.’
Chapter Eighteen
Katie Finds Her Voice
It was almost midnight. Katie stood with Alice in the north corridor of Buckingham Palace, shivering in her school uniform. She’d grown so used to her petticoats and pelisses that the short grey pleated skirt and dark green knee socks didn’t seem like real clothes, but just another layer of underthings. ‘Knees are ugly,’ Katie thought, ‘especially mine – knobbly and scaly and bulbous.’ She pondered how the girls in her class at school rolled up the waistbands of their skirts to expose even more scabby lank leg. ‘I used to think you looked like a piece of upholstered furniture in all those clothes,’ she said to Alice, ‘but now I feel almost naked in my own things.’
James, as he turned the corner, obviously thought so too. He stopped in his tracks, turned bright red and spun around to face the wall.
Alice wrapped her cloak around Katie.
‘It is a bit of a shock at first,’ Alice conceded. ‘Jamie, I’ve wrapped Katie up, you can turn around now.’ James turned slowly, but still couldn’t look at Katie.
Katie sighed. ‘Yes, you’ve seen my legs, and I know they’re not the greatest sight in the world. Think of me as a cadaver. You’re perfectly OK with those, and they’re usually naked.’
‘You’re bony enough to be one,’ James grinned, ‘and there were several times over the past months when I’ve thought you were certain to become one.’
Katie’s eyes filled. ‘Without you, without Alice, I probably would be one. You, like, believed in me, protected me; put your own lives in danger. I never thought I would have a friend like this – ever – and now I have two!’
Alice, clutching Woolie Baa Lamb, was a picture of misery. She put her arms around Katie and held tight. ‘I don’t see how I can let you go,’ she whispered.
James put a hand on both their shoulders and firmly, but gently pulled them apart. ‘Oh blast, I’ve been dreading this. The girlish protestations, the waterworks. Katie has to go back. That’s that. As much as I detest Bernardo DuQuelle, he seems to be the only person who can do it. So let’s just say goodbye rationally.’
Alice burst into tears. ‘How can you be so heartless? I thought Katie was your friend?’
James sighed and fished out a rather grubby handkerchief for Alice’s use. ‘I am Katie’s friend,’ he tried to explain, turning to Katie in exasperation. ‘You’re as good as a girl gets, Katie. You have some fairly funny ideas but you’re brave as they come and can catch a ball better than anyone I have ever met. If you had been a man, you could have done great things.’
‘She can still do great things,’ Alice said, mopping her eyes and trying to regain her dignity. ‘She can be a loving wife and mother.’
‘You forget,’ Katie said drily, ‘in my own time I can be a wife and mother and I can also be the President of the United States of America. Maybe there are some good things to go back to after all.’
James and Alice looked rather astonished, but this did dry Alice’s tears.
‘Where is Leopold?’ James asked. ‘I can’t believe he’d miss this, not after proving such a star today.’
‘He’s standing watch at the end of the hall.’ A voice echoed down the corridor. It was Bernardo DuQuelle. ‘I had to convince him it was really me, and not an impostor. It took me a good five minutes of hard talking, and really, these were five minutes we could not afford to lose. There’s something up in the Palace – lights and movement where there shouldn’t be. The Black Tide might be afoot – or something even worse – all looking for Miss Berger-Jones-Burg.’ His eyes rolled to the ceiling. ‘What a name, so arriviste.’
Katie was feeling decidedly shaky. ‘If I’m going to take the plunge, I might as well do it quickly,’ she said. DuQuelle scanned the many sofas lining the corridor. Bending down, he sniffed one, and taking his chiffon handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, rubbed in against the sofa’s leg. The handkerchief stuck to the side of the sofa.
‘This will be the one,’ he said.
‘How do you know?’ James asked.
DuQuelle walked over to Katie and, taking the handkerchief, held it above her head. All her hair stood up on end. She felt little popping sparks above her. ‘Static electricity,’ DuQuelle explained. ‘One picks up a vast amount of excess energy when one travels through time.’
‘Now that is interesting,’ James said, ‘because I read in the Reverend Chauncy Hare Townshend’s treatise Mesmerism Proved True that…’
Just then, Leopold’s reedy voice could be heard down the corridor. ‘Quick, hide. Someone is coming.’
Everyone dived for the nearest hiding place, as two sets of feet ran from opposite ends of the hallway, and met in the middle.
‘At last, there you are. I haf to look everywhere.’ A splattering of carraway seeds announced the arrival of Baroness Lehzen.
‘Really Baroness, what is this urgency. I was asleep. It was a long day and it is almost midnight.’ James squirmed further under the sofa. It was his father.
‘We haf not the time to hear of your tiring day. There has been an accident, no, a crime so serious within the Palace. It is Mr MacKenzie. He haf been hurt, badly hurt, battered and bruised till the speaking he cannot do – and when he does speak, oh! You would not want to hear the words. “He came to me in the dark of the night,” he screams. I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t say. And then, “The arm,” he screams, “the arm – it did whip out, snatching at me, oh the oozing pus-like tentacles. It spat and hissed,” and then MacKenzie he does cry and b
ab-ble of Beelzebub and Belzen. He is insane with the terror, is Mr MacKenzie. I do not know that he will live past the night this is.’
Dr O’Reilly shifted nervously. ‘Perhaps we should call the household guards?’ he suggested.
‘No!’ Baroness Lehzen barked. ‘We must keep stumm. I do not wish to disturb the precious Queen. We must learn more before we act. You must go to his bed. Mach schnell!’
As the two hurried down the hall, DuQuelle slid from under a sofa, looking with distaste at his dusty trousers. ‘If only that woman would put half the energy into housekeeping that she puts into court intrigue,’ he lamented. ‘But my trousers will survive the night, while Katie might not. Here’s trouble in the worst shape of all. Mr Belzen has been here. He obviously wanted information from MacKenzie, and almost killed him trying to get it. I don’t believe he could tell him what he wanted, as it had to do with you, Katie.’
‘Will MacKenzie live?’ Katie asked.
‘If he saw what I think he saw,’ DuQuelle replied grimly, ‘he will wish for death the rest of his life. Now quick – say your goodbyes and it’s under the sofa for you. We have even less time than I thought.’
This was goodbye then. Katie turned to James O’Reilly. ‘Being a doctor is a great thing,’ she said. ‘I know you will be the one who changes the world. Give Riordan a hug and kiss for me.’
James looked her briefly in the eye then, looking down, punched her in the shoulder. The only sound was a derisive snort from DuQuelle.
Alice began to cry again and Katie held her close. ‘You have made me understand about family by being the sister I never had. I will miss you every day of my life.’
DuQuelle handed Katie a battered notebook. ‘My diary!’ she exclaimed. ‘No one knows about my diary. Where did you find it? Was it under my bed? Did you go to my own time? To my own room?’
The Chronicles of the Tempus Page 21
