City of Time (9 page)

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teapot that reminded him of something. He fished in his pockets and brought out a handful of tea bags. Dr. Diamond's rucksack was propped against the tailgate and from there he took out a flask of water, butter, and some scones.

It wasn't long before the kettle was whistling merrily on top of the stove while the scones warmed in the oven. Dr. Diamond must have heard it, for he came in, his face and hands covered in oil.

"Wonderful engineering!" He beamed.

They sat in silence in front of the stove, eating the scones as butter ran down their fingers, drinking tea from tin cups. When they were finished Cati could barely keep her eyes open, and Owen wasn't far behind.

"Get some sleep," Dr. Diamond said. "We must start out before dawn. And we have no idea how far we have to go." He took a pouch of tools from the rucksack, dimmed the lights, and went out to his engine.

Yawning, Cati pulled off her boots and lay down fully clothed on the nearest bunk. Owen didn't remember getting into bed and pulling the bedclothes up around his neck. But just before he went to sleep he heard Cati's voice.

"This is a bit of an adventure, isn't it?"

"It is," he said.

"Long as we don't get killed," she murmured. "Night, Owen."

But Owen didn't reply. There was something about

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this journey, a hope that had flickered to life and had been fanned by one thing in the truck: that teapot. Did he recognize it?
Don't be silly
, he told himself. Experience had taught him that most hopes turned out to be false. On the other hand ...

"Cati?"

"Mmm?"

"Do you think my dad ever drove this truck? Dr. Diamond said that he had been to Hadima."

There was a long silence. Owen could almost feel her frowning in the dark. Then, "I don't know. He might have."

She doesn't really think so
, Owen thought.
But that teapot has the same pattern as the tea set in the kitchen cupboard at home. The tea set with the missing teapot
. And the idea that his father might have been in this very place comforted him as he drifted off to sleep.

Although she was exhausted, Martha did not sleep. Mary's breathing had become more irregular. Martha watched the woman and brushed the hair back from her face, wondering at how young Mary had seemed to grow in the last few hours. The wrinkles had faded from her brow and there was a flush in her cheeks.

Martha shook her head. How stupid could she be? She'd lived in a fog for so long that she'd forgotten that the world existed. A doctor! That was what Mary needed, not somebody moping over her. She jumped to her feet, looking for a phone. She found an oldfashioned

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black one on a low table by the fire. She lifted the receiver, but as she did a voice stopped her.

"Martha?" Mary's voice was strong and Martha turned to her. Mary's face was youthful now, and there was a sparkle. Martha went over to her and took her hand.

"It is a key," Mary said.

"What?"

"It is a key." Martha looked at the hairpin she still held in her hand. "Take it over to the clock and open it."

Martha did as she was told. The clock case opened easily. Martha gazed at the clock face and it was a moment before she thought to look down. Her eyes widened. The infinity within drew her, the blue-black depth without end in which tiny lights glinted.

"Is this it?" she said, hardly comprehending the words coming out of her mouth.

"Close the case and lock it," Mary said. Martha did so. "It is what you think, an entrance into time itself. An ingress, it is called. I have guarded it."

"But why didn't you tell--"

"Whom would I have told, Martha? And what good would it have done, except to betray its location to Johnston, perhaps? But my time is very short now and I can't explain everything. The Navigator must go to the City of Time."

"The Navigator ..." Realization dawned on Martha's face. "No! Not Owen. He is too young."

"Young, perhaps, but also brave. There are things

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you do not understand. Your mind was put to sleep because it was frozen and wounded. You were not properly awakened until tonight. I am sorry that it took so long."

"Owen isn't ready!"

"He has already fought and beaten the Harsh once while you slept. He is ready. And in your heart you know that the Navigator is the only person who can heal this world. He must go to the City of Time. It is the only place he can find what he needs. He may already have gone," Mary said. "Diamond. Dr. Diamond will realize that there is no other way."

"No!"

The light was fading from Mary's eyes and her voice was weakening. "Listen to me," she said urgently. "Keep the key safe. It will be needed. The Workhouse will need you. It is badly manned."

"But Owen ...," said, and there was anguish in her voice.

"Is the Navigator," Mary said. Then her breathing changed.

"Mary?" Martha bent over her, but the old woman's eyes had closed and she did not answer.

Martha ran to the phone and this time nothing stopped her from making the call. She sat down to wait for the ambulance, her mind in turmoil. Owen was the Navigator? His father's quest to be the Navigator had done terrible damage to all their lives. What would happen to his son?

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Chapter 10

Acurious groaning noise awoke Owen. It sounded like an old sheep. He heard it again. He swung his legs out of the bunk and slipped on his boots. Outside it was still dark. He went around to the cab, where Dr. Diamond was sitting at the wheel. As Owen reached him he heard the noise again, but this time there was a spluttering sound, then with a gout of smoke from under the hood the engine burst into wheezy, clattery life.

Dr. Diamond beamed down at Owen. "Breakfast!" he shouted over the noise of the engine. "Quickly. Then we go."

Owen wakened Cati and they made hot chocolate on the stove and had bread and honey.

"I still don't really understand where we're going," Cati said.

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"I'll tell you what I know on the way." The doctor's voice was light but Owen could sense worry underneath it. He realized that the scientist had not slept.

They clambered through the hatch and into the cab, which was roomy with one long bench seat. "Here goes." Dr. Diamond started the engine and put the truck into gear. It lurched toward the open gates beside Gobillard's shop.

The truck cleared the gate, the tunnel walls throwing the engine clatter back at them, and they plunged downward. Dr. Diamond turned on the headlights.

After a while the tunnel leveled out but continued to curve to the left, so they couldn't see far ahead. As the tunnel widened, the truck's headlights cast eerie shadows. Peering through the gloom, Owen could see abandoned vehicles at the sides of the tunnel. Trucks like the one they were driving, what looked like motorcycle sidecars, and odd, old-fashioned-looking cars.

After five more minutes the tunnel began to climb. Owen saw the remains of old signs hanging from the ceiling, but they were too dirty and tangled to read.

"Looks like we're coming out," said the doctor. As he spoke the tunnel straightened and the truck clattered into the open. Dr. Diamond slowed to a halt.

They had come out at what looked like a border crossing. Five or six lanes of traffic led into a line of glass kiosks. There were crash barriers and overhead gantries with arrows to direct traffic. But it was deserted. The kiosk windows were dirty and cracked. The

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lanes were empty and the traffic signs swayed and clanked in the breeze. The roof of the tunnel disappeared into darkness above their heads. Owen opened the door and got out, followed by Cati and Dr. Diamond.

"This is spooky," Cati said. Owen rubbed his hand across the top of one of the traffic barriers. It came away coated in dust and grime. They looked around.

"There's no one here," Dr. Diamond said.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Cati said as a movement caught her eye. A small dark shape was darting swiftly behind one of the barriers. Cati dropped to a crouch, scanning the surroundings, a Watcher on the alert.

"Two more," she said as shapes flitted behind the glass kiosks.

"Get back to the truck!" yelled Dr. Diamond. Before he could move, a jagged rock hurtled out of the darkness and struck him on the temple. He crumpled and fell. Now more shapes were moving from behind the barriers. Another rock flew past Owen's head and hit the truck with a clang.

"Quick!" Cati shouted. "Grab his feet." Owen ducked another rock and took Dr. Diamond's legs while Cati lifted his head. A tall figure stepped out from behind one of the kiosks. The man was dressed in black, but his hair was white. With one easy movement he inserted a rock into the slingshot he held and swung it round his head. The rock hurtled straight for Owen's

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face. Owen spun away from it, but the rock caught him full in the back. The leather jacket absorbed some of the impact but the pain was excruciating. He stumbled and almost fell.

"Come on," Cati yelled. Half shielded by the open door, they swung the unconscious Dr. Diamond into the cab. Cati climbed in and caught Owen's hand as another rock ricocheted off the door frame. Owen pulled the door shut behind him and slammed down the lock with his elbow. Cati shot through the opening into the back and he heard a rattling noise from the interior.

Owen turned to check Dr. Diamond. He was bleeding from the head wound.

Cati slid back in. "I've secured the back doors. Who or what was that?"

A pale face appeared at the windscreen, staring in at them, while long white hands felt at the glass. Owen recoiled from the windscreen as he stared at the expression less face. The eyes were a curious violet color. The man started hitting the window with a jagged rock. Other hands pulled at the door handle beside him.

"What are they?" Cati shuddered.

"Never mind that, the windscreen's going to break," Owen said, his voice rising with panic.

"That glass seems pretty tough to me," she said. "Look, the stone isn't even chipping it. Let's have a look at the doctor."

Cati felt Dr. Diamond's pulse and lifted one of his

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eyelids. "Out cold," she said. "I hope he's not concussed."

Other hands were now hammering at the windscreen, not damaging the glass, but making so much noise that Owen couldn't hear himself think. There were scratching noises from the top of the cab as well. Another face appeared at the windscreen--a girl with long white hair. The thick, dark mascara around her violet eyes made her appear sad and beautiful in a cold way.

"Look at her hands, lover boy," Cati said dryly. The girl's nails were covered with sharp chrome talons, long and curved and deadly, and as Owen stared they shot toward his face, rebounding off the glass with a vicious clatter. The violet eyes looked disappointed.

Violet eyes
, Owen thought.
I wonder ...
Frantically, his hands searched the dashboard. The symbols on the switches were strange to him.

"What are you looking for?" Cati said. "The windscreen wipers won't get rid of them."

There were three switches together with a round symbol on them. Owen flicked them all, one after another. There was a shriek from outside. The creatures shrank away, covering their eyes, turning their backs to the truck's suddenly blazing headlights and spotlights.

"They're albinos," Owen said. "They can't bear the bright light!"

"I think you're right!" Cati said as they watched the creatures scuttle back behind the kiosks and barriers.

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"That got rid of them," Owen said, but he spoke too soon. A stone flew out from behind the kiosks, then another and another, until a hail of slingshot rocks was raining down on the cab.

"Any more bright ideas?" Cati shouted above the din.

"Well, you didn't--" Owen began crossly, but broke off as the whole area began to light up, starting from the tunnel entrance behind and spreading toward the kiosks, massive lights coming on overhead. They were hanging from the same gantries as the signs. Many were broken and useless, but the ones that did work were immensely powerful. There was another shriek from the albinos, and then they were gone.

"Now, that's what I call light," Cati said with a glint of amusement in her eye. "Look."

There was a low wooden structure to the side that they hadn't noticed before. A sign over the door said CUSTOMS and underneath that OFFICE. A man had emerged, wearing a black uniform with soiled braid on the cuffs and a grubby peaked cap pushed back on his head. In no particular hurry he walked over to the truck. His eyes were red-rimmed and his plump face needed a shave. He stood by the cab, looking off into the distance in a bored way.

Owen lowered the window a fraction. "Hello?"

The man held out a hand. "Papers," he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.