“Get inside,” the thug demanded. Jeremy obeyed, feeling the moisture of blood under his shirt. Soon they had passed through and the door shut behind them. They were in a very dark hallway that had four doors, two on each side. Jeremy was taken into the second one on the right, pushed inside, and forced down to sit on a lone chair in the middle of the room. His coat was tossed in a heap in the corner of the room. The thug pulled a scratchy rope from his belt and tied Jeremy’s hands behind his back. Then he tied his ankles to the chair legs. Standing up again the thug backhanded him with force.
“That’s for making me look like a fool last night!”
Jeremy started to say something about the man being a fool before they’d ever met, but he thought better of it and held his tongue. The thug turned and left the room, locking Jeremy inside. He’d just been taken prisoner, on a fine morning with the merchants at the market stalls hawking their wares just a block or so away. He was no good as a Time Mechanic after all, if he’d fallen victim to the first real threat of an enemy. He should’ve at least attempted to fight instead of being led like a puppy. If he disappeared today at least he knew one thing. Someone else would arise and become the new Time Mechanic, if he wasn’t crazy and there really was such a thing. But that thought brought small comfort.
* * *
At the end of a busy day Mars left his shop. It’d felt good to be productive again. Chatting with customers he’d just met, laughing with his assistant, ordering product to arrive in time for the upcoming festival, even working in his office catching up all the books, he attended to it all with gratitude. His shop along with himself and his three employees was flourishing. He did find the time to write in the staff log book, describing what should be done to handle the shop in the unlikely occasion that he had to leave town for an extended length of time. He had an excellent assistant anyway, a man named Joram, who was loyal and trustworthy.
Nevertheless it felt strange to write the instructions. The haze of the last two days seemed to lift from his eyes. Jeremy was right that he had a choice. Down inside he knew that he could abandon this crazy quest right now.
Jeremy. Mars frowned as he thought of his one-time best friend. His mind flashed through a series of mental images. He saw Jeremy defending him at the school playground when Clarebella had told him he was stupid, as well as a bruin, that was when they’d been ten years old.
When they were twelve he recalled how Jeremy had looked, sturdy but slim, his eyes intense as he studied the thick workbooks, because the teacher had challenged him to try and pass a test that the rest of the class had failed. Yes, Jeremy was smart. Mars had been proud of him that day when the teacher had congratulated him in front of the whole school. Then there was the time that Jeremy came to cheer him when that girl had broken his heart— funny he could barely remember her name now— Jeremy had told such stupid jokes, one after another without pause, that he’d had no choice but to feel better. When they were teenagers no girl could come between them.
Lastly he remembered seeing Jeremy in the hospital bed- less than a year after he’d lost both his parents. He remembered the bloody gash that had stood out through the waves of his near-curly hair and the sight of the doctor stitching it up. How still and silent he’d been as he’d laid there for so many hours unconscious. The doctor had said the blow to his head had nearly killed him. When Jeremy woke up and refused to tell anyone what’d happened to him, Mars had been angry.
They were best friends and they’d always told each other things they’d revealed to no one else. But apparently Jeremy hadn’t trusted him then any more than he’d believed him when Mars had insisted that he’d made no attempt to steal away Fiasca’s regard.
Mars clenched his fists as he paused at a street corner in the market, waiting for a wagon to pass. He was still uncomfortable with the emotion associated with what had happened the other day. Jeremy had apologized and admitted that he knew Mars wasn’t at fault for the breakage of their friendship. He’d acknowledged the truth. Mars should feel vindicated and yet he’d thought he’d let the anger go long ago. The truth was he was still furious.
Losing his best friend through no fault of his own had been a shock at first. There’d been a hole in his life but he’d filled it by working hard and discovering his own intelligence when he’d succeeded at his shop. He’d depended on Jeremy too much for the social parts of life, too. Mars had made new friends after his loss. It was good to learn to stand on his own feet.
But now there was this peculiar situation going on. How had he gone along with this Time Mechanic business for two whole days? Wasn’t that girl right- Kannikey- when she’d said that following Jeremy around if he was going to act like a fool, pointless?
Mars realized he was going in the opposite direction through the market place than he’d intended but he needed to walk off his frustration.
Thinking of the way Jeremy’s head had bent down when Kannikey had yelled at him in the carriage, the loose waves of his hair thick, except for the glimpse of the two inch scar that still curled up behind his ear, Mars had to resist yelling at her to be quiet.
There was something Jeremy never knew. The doctor had warned his Uncle Tov back then. Mars remembered sitting in the hallway at the hospital and overhearing the conversation from around the corner. The doctor said that Jeremy would have a weakness at that spot- if he was ever struck there again permanent damage or death could occur.
Mars thought that girl better hold her tongue from any more insults when they got to Jeremy’s room for dinner, or he’d tell her a thing or two in return. She might be wealthy and used to having her own way, and she might even be, he had to admit it, very pretty, but insulting Jeremy wasn’t the way to help him if he was having a problem with his health. She might even be right about him, that he’d lost his sanity and gone off. Probably the girl intended to tell Jeremy this evening that she was through following him anyway. And himself, he wondered. Should he tell Jeremy the same thing? Perhaps the first thing he should do was to convince that stubborn man to return to the doctor. Jeremy must’ve hit his head by the fountain two days ago. All the other strange incidents he couldn’t explain but Jeremy had that way about him, like he was up on some shelf that topped the other peoples’ experiences. Perhaps he should go and have a talk with his Uncle Tov. The older man was in his early sixties now and like Jeremy in many ways. He had that same flair of intelligence, for certain. Tov could be helpful and take over wondering if Jeremy was going to be all right. Mars blinked his eyes as he realized that he was standing near the shop that Jeremy used to work at. The friendship between he and Jeremy would never be the same, but they had been best friends for many years. He owed Jeremy that much. He was turning to go so he wouldn’t be late to Jeremy’s dinner when the door opened and Nemeth came out, ready to lock up shop for the night.
Mars stiffened, for there with her hand curled around Nemeth’s arm was Fiasca. She noticed him standing there right away. So did Nemeth.
“Mars!” the man said. “Have you come to visit me?”
“No,” he responded, with a small bow in Fiasca’s direction. “I’m just out walking.”
“Well that’s very strange, I’d say! Do you know that Jeremy did the same thing, earlier today?”
“He did what?”
“He came up to my door but didn’t intend to come in, I mean. He had a friend with him, but…”
Nemeth stopped and shook his head.
“A friend with him?” Mars prompted.
“Well that’s what the man said, anyway, but Jeremy didn’t look very happy to be with him.”
“And you didn’t recognize this man? Perhaps he was one of Jeremy’s more recent acquaintances.”
“Oh, no, Jeremy never seemed to have many friends. I mean, I’m sure he did, but I never saw any. That’s why I was so surprised to see you with him the other day.”
“Hmm. What was it about this man that made you think Jeremy didn’t like him, if I may ask?”
“H
e had his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and it looked like he was pushing him around.” Nemeth frowned at the ground before connecting gazes again. “You know, Mars,” he went on. “I always liked Jeremy myself. We never socialized outside of the shop but I would’ve been proud to call him a friend. You don’t work with a person day in and out for over a year and not learn a few things about them. He could remember every bit of inventory on the shelves, the name of every customer that came in, and how I liked my coffee in the afternoons. He could add the till in seconds. He was one of the smartest men I’ve ever met, I think.”
“I wish you’d quit talking about him in the past tense. If you want to be friends, I’m sure Jeremy could use one. And you could use a friend like him too, considering that you’re about to be married to…” Mars froze in disbelief at his own rudeness. “I mean, considering that you’re about to get married and might need more help in the shop,” he stumbled.
“I see,” said Nemeth, his voice a shade colder. Fiasca’s glare could freeze a boiling kettle.
“Listen, Nemeth, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m a little worried about Jeremy, if you want to know the truth. I’m not expressing myself correctly.”
“On that we agree. I’m worried about the man too. That white-haired fellow with him today… well, it just didn’t seem all right. Perhaps Jeremy’s got himself mixed up in something.”
Mars felt a sudden urgency.
“Which way did they go when they left you?”
“Well, I saw them this morning. They would hardly still be there now.”
“Which way, anyhow?”
Nemeth sighed.
“That way,” he said, pointing. “They turned at the edge of my building and headed down the alley.”
“Thank you, Nemeth. Have a nice evening with your, uh, fiancé.”
“Mars?”
“What?”
“Let me know if Jeremy needs anything. I’d be willing to help if I can.”
Mars noticed that Fiasca was wrenching a bit at the man’s arm but that Nemeth was ignoring her. He had to smile.
“Thank you, Nemeth. I will!”
He threw another quick bow in their direction before he hurried to the edge of the building and headed down the same alley Jeremy had disappeared into earlier in the day. Of course it was empty and there was nothing to be seen in either direction to indicate anything out of the ordinary. After walking up and down the alley for a few minutes he gave it up. The best way to discover who the man was that had seemed threatening to Nemeth was to go along and ask Jeremy himself. He’d hurry over to Jeremy’s room.
He decided to stop at the livery near the edge of town and rent a horse for the evening. It took a few minutes but he’d make it up on the ride. He found the proprietor in the huge barn and was soon looking over the stock that hadn’t been taken earlier in the day.
“I was about to close my doors for tonight,” the man said. “I’ve got these three left. I’d suggest Storky here,” he added. “He’s the biggest.”
“Yes, I’ll take him,” said Mars, pulling out some coins from his pocket. Soon the horse was saddled and he swung aboard. There was a steam-powered carriage blocking his way at the corner and the puff of hot air that exited the vent at the back frightened his horse.
“Easy Storky,” he said, patting the neck of his mount. He let the horse release some tension, controlling the animal as it made a half-turn and then frisked a bit to the side. The steam carriage chugged out of the way.
“Come along,” said Mars. He urged the horse to a trot and then to an easy canter as they left the streets of Tonturin behind them. Soon he’d get to Jeremy’s and finish this business, one way or the other.
Chapter Thirteen (In Which Jeremy Discovers Increase of Knowledge is Painful)
As Mars galloped down the end of the lane towards the manse he could see a carriage in Jeremy’s yard. Kannikey must’ve decided to have a last word even though Jeremy had told her not to come if she wanted to be free. He slowed the horse and slid from the saddle, but to his surprise both Kannikey and that fellow who wasn’t a fellow appeared from the side of the manse. They both looked troubled as they walked to Jeremy’s doorway. He hurried up to them.
“What is it?” he asked. “Jeremy’s not at home?”
“No sign of him,” said Kannikey.
“There was an older man attending the vegetable garden who said Jeremy didn’t come home all day,” reported Ffip. “He knows that because Jeremy never passes without helping him when he’s pushing the tiller.”
Mars swallowed hard. Jeremy hadn’t come home all day… his eyes widened in dismay.
“Blast it!” he bellowed, causing both girls to jump. “Kannikey, turn the carriage around and come on! You, contraption fellow!” he added, gesturing wildly. “Ffip I mean, get in with her!”
“Why?” asked Kannikey. “Is something wrong?”
“Jeremy’s old boss said he saw him with a man who seemed to be pushing him around this morning. Now Jeremy’s missing!” he roared, but at least both girls hopped into action. Kannikey had brought the smaller carriage. That made it easier to turn in the yard. Soon both were aboard and heading the carriage in the right direction. Mars passed them and his intensity urged his horse into a gallop. The early evening sun was just starting to turn, and if they waited too long they wouldn’t be able to search for any clues in the near darkness. Kannikey kept up with him and they reached Tonturin a few minutes later. The streets seemed deserted, for it was that dinner hour in which the market had closed for the day but the rousers hadn’t come out to fill the taverns yet.
At the far side of the market they pulled up in front of Nemeth’s shop. Mars tied his horse’s bridle to Kannikey’s carriage, once she’d pulled the brake and the two girls had climbed down.
“This way,” he said, leading the way around the side of the building into that alley he’d searched earlier. It was just as empty as before.
“What are we doing here?” asked Ffip.
“Last place Jeremy was seen,” he grunted in reply.
“Well he’s not here now,” said Kannikey.
“That’s obvious, but you don’t sound very worried,” he snarled.
“Should I be worried? Perhaps Jeremy’s wandered off and fainted somewhere again.”
“By all that’s gold, Kannikey, I don’t want to hear that tone from you anymore!”
“Don’t take my tone so personal then! I’m only suggesting one possibility!”
Frustration boiled up in him but he refrained from yelling further. It wasn’t this girl’s fault after all.
“Look around for a clue,” he growled. “Maybe we could find something useful to show us where he might’ve gone…”
“Excuse me!” interrupted Ffip. Mars turned. She’d gone a short distance away, and was leaning down and looking at something on the ground. “Over here!” she said.
He and Kannikey left the argument behind in the dust. Soon the three of them were bent down, following the path of her finger with their eyes. On the ground, right beside the entranceway of a painted black door, were three dried drips of blood.
“Blast it,” said Mars.
* * *
Jeremy sat in that chair, alone in that room, for hours. The thug had tied his hands behind his back with the rope looped around the middle spoke of the chair back so he couldn’t get the top half of his body loose. He struggled with wriggling both his wrists and his ankles but he only rubbed his skin near-raw on the rope. The knots were too tight. The morning passed agonizingly slowly, and when finally the town center rang the bell at noon, he was crushed that so little time had actually gone by.
But what difference did it make? He couldn’t go anywhere, alert anyone, or look forward to any help because he’d reached the afternoon time. His shoulders began to ache, his backside protested, and his fingers tingled with numbness no matter how he straightened them and tried to move them around.
By the time that more hours had passed he was a
lmost ready to welcome the thug’s return. He’d tried calling for help, but he was pretty certain that no one else was in the building at all. There was no sound from any corner to indicate the presence of any people. No bumps or footsteps, no rattles or scrapes and certainly no voices in the distance. He was utterly alone. Had the thug just left him here, never to return, until he died of thirst?
Panic controlled him for a while, making his struggles to rip himself free from that chair change into frenzy. He only hurt himself for his efforts. It was a wooden chair with evenly spaced spokes. He felt like he’d loosened the chair’s supports a bit, for now it creaked and wiggled with him from side to side. But it was strong enough to hold him in place as he wrestled against his bonds. It was fortunate that the slash he’d been given across his stomach wasn’t deep. It bled just enough to spot through his shirt in a six-inch line, throbbed a little and felt wet, but then left him alone if he didn’t gyrate it too much. He scooted in tiny spurts until he hit the wall and then scooted some more, panting with effort, until at last he reached the door. Getting his back to it, his fumbling fingers tested the knob, but it was locked and held firm.
He scooted back to a place of power, ten feet from the door and facing it, and tried to rally his courage. He stilled himself and breathed in and out, until finally the sweat on his forehead cooled, and the quiet of the empty building became a comfort to him.
In that space he remembered he was the Time Mechanic.
He was.
His doubts hadn’t made him any less of it like he’d supposed. The knowledge had been placed in his mind and it was still there. Why hadn’t he been able to access it before?
At last he heard something; a distant door, and the murmuring of two voices. The afternoon shadows had passed into evening according to the light that filtered in through the high window in the back of the room. He swallowed and sat up straight.
The Time Mechanic Page 9
