The Time Corps Chronicles (Complete Series)

by Heather Blackwood

  “Fine, three books. It’s still a ridiculous fine. And besides, they’re here now. They’re returned.”

  “The Librarian sets these rules, not me.”

  Elliot was close to saying what the Librarian could do with his rules, but Malachy excused himself. As soon as he was gone, Elliot flipped through Astrid’s sketch book.

  Despite Elliot telling her otherwise, she had never believed that she had any real talent. He knew that she was only her repeating what her mother said. No matter how good Astrid was, his aunt always told her it was a useless ability.

  It may not be useful in the traditional sense, but no one with any sense could deny that Astrid was talented. She had been one of a very select few to be offered an art scholarship at Columbia. She captured movement and stillness, curves and distance just right, but with her own style that was detailed and, he had to admit, a little dark. He paged through drawings of her room, the inside of the commuter train, parts of Luna Park, a shark-tailed mermaid, a woman with a ram’s head, a bipedal raccoon person in some kind of monk’s robe and oddly, a number of pictures of mirrors and doors.

  Mirrors. Doors and mirrors.

  He had seen mirrors become Doors before, with Astrid there to open them. But could she create a portable Door, one made of pencil on paper? Was that why she sent the book to him?

  “Astrid?” he said, peering into one of the mirror drawings. “Are you there?”

  He watched. The pencil shading inside the mirror frame did not move. Of course it hadn’t. That was a stupid idea. He was standing in a kitchen, talking to a sketch book. He slapped it shut.

  Elliot continued his breakfast preparations. As he cooked, he pondered, occasionally glancing at the pile of books on the kitchen counter.

  These books could form an unstable time loop. Not the sketch book, as that was clearly Astrid’s and he hadn’t given it to her. But the other three, the Metallurgy and two fairy tale books, originated in the Library. If he took these books from the kitchen counter and got them out of the Library and into his world, then they’d have no stable origin. They’d endlessly loop, from today, to being taken from the Library, to Astrid and his own past, to whatever event led them to be dropped back into the Library, and then back to this kitchen counter.

  That would not do. It formed an instability, and though some instabilities could be useful, an object with no origin created an instability. Even the black marble bowls had a stable origin, though he didn’t know what it was. They also had a future. He hoped their future involved traveling with Bennu to the North and signaling Pangur Ban and Huginn.

  That meant that the books in front of him had to go back into the stacks, but they also had to come with him.

  After breakfast, he consulted one of the Library computers and found the location of the shelves for his books. He found the Metallurgy book first, pulling the newer version from the shelf and replacing it with the older version. The time loop was now resolved. The thing would go from Library to young Astrid and Elliot, to being dropped back into the Library, and back to its shelf, where it would sit and rot for all he cared.

  He opened the younger book and tore out part of the inner front cover where it said “Library of Alexandria.” Now it just said “Library of A—.”

  He found one copy of the fairy tale book, but could not find another. For a few minutes, he was afraid that the thing would have to remain an unstable time loop with two versions existing side by side. But when he consulted the computer again, he found another copy three floors down.

  He went to his room, set the new books beside his bed, and then picked up Astrid’s sketch book again. Aside from the clothes he had arrived with, it was the only object from home. He flipped past the strange animal people and studied the other drawings more carefully. There was the front of the Time Corps house, a picture of Sister sitting on the floor, looking up at the sky through a window and a picture of Pangur Ban sleeping. Like all cats, she was sweet looking when she was asleep, but Elliot had never petted her once he knew she was sentient. Astrid was the only one who did that.

  He stopped short when he turned the page to the picture of the mirror. On the mirror’s surface, in Astrid’s writing, was one word: Elliot. It was written backwards.

  It hadn’t been there before. He knew it hadn’t. Did that mean that this book was part of a time instability? Was this one of those minor detail changes that only he could detect?

  Perhaps. But perhaps it was something else.

  He dug a pencil stub out from under the edge of his bed and he wrote six words on the center of the mirror:

  White Bast

  Bowl

  Norway

  Time Lock

  Chapter 33

  Astrid knew she had seen something, and it was no trick of the light. She sat on the ship’s deck and held the page of her sketch book down as the ocean wind tried to whip it closed. The day was overcast and chilly, but aside from Hazel’s desk, being out on deck allowed her the best light for drawing.

  Something in the drawing had moved.

  The thought that she might be imagining things did not cross her mind. Six months ago, she would have shut the book and thought that she had an overactive imagination. But today, she lifted her paper up to better catch the light.

  This sketch book was one of her newer ones, as Sister had tossed her old one through the Door. This one was only about a third full, and she had drawn things she had seen, taking an opportunity to draw a few members of the crew as well as some practice sketches. She often drew whatever was in front of her, but interspersed throughout the book were drawings of various types of mirrors. She had sketched many before, simply because she liked them and enjoyed working at portraying the reflection of a room. Getting the distance and perspective correct was an entertaining challenge.

  One of the drawings near the end was still blank in the center, but she was certain she had seen a face in it. Now, it was simply empty. She knew it was possible for her to make a Door with a drawing, but the only time she had done it, she had only needed to travel a few feet, through a cold iron barrier. Now she wondered if she could do more.

  She waited, watching the image for movement or anything at all. Nothing happened, and after a few minutes, she filled in the empty mirror frame with shelves of books, trying to replicate the brief image of the Library she had seen when she had sent Elliot through, and again when Sister had thrown the books.

  Huginn landed just behind her. “You should put that away and come do something fun,” he said.

  “Does that look like the Library to you?” she asked, holding up the book.

  “It looks like any library. But since the Library looks much like any other library, yes, it looks like the Library.”

  “Be serious. I’m trying to help Elliot.”

  “By making a drawing?”

  “By trying an alternative method of Door-making.”

  Huginn sat silent for a while, and she wondered if he had any ideas. She asked him.

  “Nope. But I’m waiting to see if it works.”

  “I don’t think I can do it while being watched,” said Astrid. “It’s a tricky thing.”

  “Fine, fine. But if you change your mind, let me know.” He flapped away.

  Astrid knew that Huginn wanted to go flying with her. They were half a day from the drake’s island, but being stuck on the ship was difficult for those of the group who weren’t sailors. Even a short flight over the endless water was a pleasant diversion. At least she could leave when she wanted to.

  She stared at the drawing, concentrating, imagining that the picture was real, like a little portal through which she could stick her finger. She waited, the minutes ticking by. Nothing occurred.

  Frustrated, she erased the interior section of the mirror, leaving the frame empty once again. Then
she sat and tried concentrating. It remained blank.

  She looked up at Huginn, a black dot circling overhead, and decided she might as well join him. As she went to close the book, the erasure lines twitched, then became moving lines, forming into a thousand streaking points, like comets. The picture was moving, too fast to form into a single image. Then, it went blank.

  She continued to watch, but nothing more happened. Huginn returned to her side and she told him what had happened.

  “Could you read it?”

  “I don’t think it was words. It was just a bunch of lines moving really fast.”

  “Unfortunate. Pictures or words would be so much more useful.”

  “You’re right.”

  She took her pencil and wrote her cousin’s name on the mirror, and she and Huginn watched as it sat there, as ordinary as could be. Then, she felt the pulling of a psychopomp job within herself.

  She shut the book, set it aside and made a Door to a room in South Africa where a woman was dying. When she returned, a member of the crew was sitting on his haunches, paging through her sketch book. She suppressed the urge to tell him to get away from it, reminding herself that he wasn’t a child or curious animal, but an intelligent being.

  “Why do you do this?” he asked, examining the pictures. “Why do you make images on paper? It serves no purpose.”

  She wasn’t sure how to answer. “Well, I enjoy it, for one. And people like looking at other people’s drawings.”

  The monkey looked up at her quizzically, his black eyes narrowed in thought. “Why is that enjoyable?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose we like to look at the world the way other people see it. To see what they see.”

  “Why not look with your own eyes?”

  “We do that too. But it’s sometimes—”

  One of the crew members called the monkey over, and he bounded away. Astrid picked up her book and flipped through.

  The drawing had changed.

  Under Elliot’s name was a bunch of jagged script. They were letters, but they were misshapen and unreadable. Then, after a moment, she understood that they were backwards. That, and the person who wrote them had terrible handwriting.

  There were six words, and she read them carefully to herself.

  “Hey, Huginn!” she called, and he flapped down from the rigging.

  “Take a look at this.”

  It took him only a moment to read it.

  “I used to live in Norway. But white Bast ...” He glanced over at Pangur Ban, who was sitting inside a coil of rope, eyes closed. “I’ve seen a statue like that before.”

  Pangur Ban must have overheard their conversation and decided it was more interesting than lying out on deck. She slid over.

  “Did you see the statue in Norway?” Astrid asked Huginn.

  “I don’t remember, but it’s possible. The thing that confuses me is how I remembered it. I mentioned it to Julius, and neither of us knew why.”

  “Don’t you remember random things sometimes?”

  “I do. And it wouldn’t concern me, but I have so few memories from that time, and I’ve only remembered them very recently.”

  “This is true,” said Pangur Ban. “You had not mentioned these memories before. It has only been in the last few weeks that you’ve remembered them.”

  Astrid thought about it. “Do you think maybe a future Elliot came and reminded you a few weeks ago so you’d remember now?”

  “I would have noticed,” said Pangur Ban, “even if Huginn forgot.”

  “We need to figure this out,” said Astrid. “If this is all Elliot wrote, then he picked every word for a reason.

  “I’ll ask Hazel if I can use her computer,” said Pangur Ban. At Astrid’s look, she explained, “I can type a key at a time. And I can read.”

  “Of course, I’m sorry.”

  “Huginn,” said Pangur Ban. “You should join me soon. We will see what else you remember.”

  The cat left them.

  Again, Astrid felt the pulling sensation. She sighed. “I have to go do another job.”

  “Very well. But be proud of yourself. You did make a new kind of Door, in a way.”

  Before she went, Astrid grabbed her pencil and wrote, “We’re coming.”

  Chapter 34

  “Mr. Escobar, you’re acting captain,” said Hazel as she pulled her pack onto her back and took one last look around the ship. “Take good care of her.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  Hazel, Astrid and the three sisters walked down the gangplank, and Hazel turned to watch the crew pull it back up, then turn the ship and sail out into deeper waters.

  Yukiko, not relishing the idea of meeting a drake, had chosen to remain on the ship. She, Pangur Ban and Huginn were headed to Norway, where they had a few places they wished to look for this white Bast statue. How it could be useful in finding Elliot, Hazel did not know. But it was the only idea they had, and if Elliot had deemed it important enough to communicate, they’d follow his lead. Skidbladnir herself had also proved useful, as she remembered many of the cities that Huginn might have visited in his early years.

  Hazel knew they would take good care of Neil’s body and the ship, but it was hard for her to watch the ship go. She had her phone, and Yukiko kept hers on her person at all times, so they were not out of touch until the ship traveled in time, which it would do shortly. It would return within a day, but she hated to be separated from her ship, even for a short while.

  “You ready?” asked Astrid gently.

  “I’m not afraid, if that’s what you mean,” said Hazel. “Dragon or no, I’m going to ask him what he knows about golems. Anyone that old has to know something about them.”

  Opal sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and Hazel had to keep herself from ordering the girl to grow a spine and toughen up. At least Briar and Isadora weren’t so easily frightened.

  “Stop it. You’ll be fine,” she said to Opal. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

  “No,” said Isadora. “We’re going.”

  Astrid gave Hazel a look, and Hazel decided to leave management of the Seelie girls to Astrid. Hazel headed up the beach to search for a footpath or some way inland that didn’t involve hiking through thorny, waist-high plant life.

  From where they stood on the beach, the island appeared uninhabited. But they knew better. Whatever the drake did to the place, he managed to keep it from being detected by human equipment. Hazel had tried to find it with her navigational systems, but to no avail. The only way they knew its location was from the map Astrid had received from the Seelie.

  “I think we should go this way,” said Astrid, pointing in the opposite direction from the one Hazel was taking.

  Hazel didn’t feel like asking about the mystical force or feeling that compelled Astrid, so she followed behind.

  “I think I see some stairs,” said Astrid. She pointed, and sure enough, a set of wooden stairs, made of pieces of ocean-smoothed driftwood, scaled the side of a low hill.

  A pebbled footpath led them farther inland, and Hazel noticed that some of the plants didn’t look like native coastal types. Evergreens with bluish needles sat side by side with plants with large, waxy burgundy leaves, like those in a tropical forest. Groupings of mushrooms clustered in shady spots beneath wild spiky plants and immaculately maintained topiaries.

  They crested a low hill and came to the house. It wasn’t quite a mansion, but the section she could see was as large as one of the plantation houses outside of the New Orleans of her youth. The architecture was different, as it seemed to consist of a series of connected structures and its exterior surface resembled white sand or smoothed stucco. The roof gleamed in the sunlight, mostly black, but occasionally glinting the bluish si
lver and purple of mother of pearl.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Isadora. “I think we will be content here.”

  Opal gaped at the house while Briar trailed behind, more interested in the immediate surroundings and only occasionally glancing at the building.

  As they drew closer, Hazel noted low walls surrounding small yards and gardens, each wall inlaid with smooth round stones or bits of seashell. They passed a pond, and paused to admire the fish, but Hazel drew back in horror when she saw that among the gold and white koi swam snaking eels, each with the sharp-beaked face of a featherless bird.

  “He is wealthy,” breathed Opal. “I wonder if he will come out to greet us or send a servant.”

  But no one came. Paths crisscrossed the area around the buildings, all of them curving and serpentine, many with decorative wooden or stone borders. They followed the main one up to a high arched tunnel, the only visible entrance. At the end glowed a sunny interior garden. They paused just inside the archway.

  “I can go in alone,” said Astrid. “He’s expecting me and the Seelie said he wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “We go in together,” said Hazel. She had no interest in being left behind, especially since she was the only one in the group who was uninvited. Besides, if there was trouble, she was armed. The three girls would be useless. Opal would probably cry. And though Astrid could make Doors or turn into an owl, that didn’t seem as tactically promising as a nice loaded pistol.

  Isadora followed Astrid through the tunnel followed by Opal. Hazel brought up the rear, noting that Briar looked terrified.

  A man appeared at the end of the tunnel and stood waiting for them. Hazel had met many servants, from slaves to paid staff, but she knew this was no servant. It must be Yelbeghen. He was tall, but not extraordinarily so, and dressed in a fine tailored suit jacket, slacks and black leather loafers. Hazel did not follow men’s fashions, but she was certain the clothing was expensive. As they drew closer and the drake shook Astrid’s hand, Hazel noted that he looked decidedly unhappy.