The Devil's Workshop

by Donnally Miller

  “But isn’t that the paradox with time travel?”

  “You’re getting worked up.”

  “Someone could go into the past and shoot someone else, who perhaps is his own father, but then how could he ever have come into existence?”

  “But what if the one going into the past wasn’t the one doing the shooting?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, all I can say is that I’ve thought the whole thing through and it’s very clever what I’ve done. I don’t want to explain it all. It would spoil the surprise.” They had now reached the back wall of the cellar. “Oh, one other thing. You’re going to have to wear this jacket.” Time helped Stuart out of his military coat and into a black jacket. “Let’s see how you look. Here, you can put that nosegay down. That’s splendid.” He turned Stuart around so that he faced the wall, as if it were a mirror. But there wasn’t a mirror. What he saw was a wooden statue of a hooded man in bas-relief. “You see this statue? This is the back door. This part of the wall is on a swivel. There is another identical statue on the other side. When the wall is swiveled, by giving a little push here, the statues change places, and the statue here, in the interior, will then be on the exterior. By holding onto this statue, when I swivel the wall you will be conveyed to the opposite side. It will seem as if you walked through the wall. Anyone who doesn’t know the trick will have no idea how you got there.”

  “I understand I am supposed to prevent the murder of the Son of Light. But what exactly do you expect me to do? Can you tell me?”

  “There’s no need. You’ll understand the situation. I’m sure you’ll know just what to do. Now, we’re a few seconds early. I’m sure you’ve seen this invention. It was the cleverest thing you humans ever did. It’s called a watch. It comes in handy sometimes. Stand here, and on my count . . .”

  “Should I draw my sword?”

  “Entirely unnecessary.” Time continued to stare at his watch.

  “Surely there’d be no harm done if I arrived just a few seconds early?”

  Time held up one finger while looking at his watch. “. . . Now. Good luck.” He swiveled the portion of the wall where Stuart stood, instantly conveying him to the street outside. A man had just run past the spot where he stood. Stuart turned to see what the man was running from just in time to be shot in the chest by a short man with a broad-brimmed hat, as the Son of Light disappeared round the corner. Stuart fell lifeless to the ground. The short man came up and surveyed his body in the dim evening light.

  Queer how a man looks different when he’s dead. He looked Stuart over for several moments. Then he dragged the body to the cart he had nearby and placed it in a long wooden box he’d provided for this purpose. He closed the top of the box and then picked up a hammer. Looking about, he muttered, “Nails . . . Damn it . . . What a thing to forget . . .”He put the hammer down. Oh well, it’s not as if he’s going to try going anywhere. He took a box of snuff from his waistcoat pocket, allowing himself the pleasure of a long snort. He was sneezing as he crossed the street to a tavern on the other side. He entered to a scene of shiny brass spigots and a flurry of faces, some pink, some veined, some wattle red.

  “I need a man who’ll help me with a job I have tonight. It’s a good bit of work but we’ll be finished ere dawn. Fifteen silver dollars in your pocket now and another fifteen when the job is done. A man can’t be fairer than that. Who’ll work with me?”

  Tom put down his drink and came forward. “Lord knows I like the sound of thirty silver dollars for a single night’s work.” The two shook hands and left together.

  As to Stephie Eliot, she waited over half an hour outside the Bar Sinister before she was certain she’d been jilted. Determined not to waste the evening on her own she’d contrived for herself she entered the saloon and sat on a stool next to a sailor who was drinking alone, as she concluded that after all, Stuart Lovejoy really wasn’t her type.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  LOVE CONQUERS ALL

  After Father Time, Venus had her turn.

  Katie woke betimes to the sound of footsteps in the cobbled street outside and the smell of fresh baked bread. She reached for her stick but it wasn’t at her side. Tavish was asleep beside her, his softly indrawn breaths wrapping the morning in a tender hush. She rose and looked out the window. Already bustling traffic was moving up and down, people with errands and things to do, unhesitant to acquit themselves this day as they did every day and all day, simply and solely giving themselves to the hard strife and gain of living. I’m ready to start my new life, she thought to herself.

  Tavish rolled over and got to his feet. The two of them looked at one another and smiled. It felt like a good morning. After all the expectations they’d had were gone, there was almost a sense of relief. They got their things together, washed and dressed, rubbing up against one another in a natural way they’d been inhibited from before. It made for a minor miracle of mildness. Katie didn’t exactly recognize what she felt but perhaps it was what goes by the name of hope, while Tavish was assuaged by a jocund remembrance of the past night. Yes, he thought, there’s a brightness in her eye, and that’s because of me. Of such slight and thin stuff is happiness made.

  “Shall we look in the town?” she asked. “Or might there be better chances round about?”

  “What were you thinking of?”

  “I saw many a nice looking house, and taverns too, as we approached the city.”

  Tavish felt since they were both city folk they might be more comfortable in the town. On the other hand the long walk they’d done had left him changed. He felt more comfortable out of doors; perhaps he could even see himself with some chickens or maybe a goat. “I think I might like to see what’s outside the town myself.”

  So they made their way to the outskirts of Kashahar and looked around. There were mansions scattered on the outlying hills, some looking a bit seedy but mansions nonetheless. They knocked on a few doors through the morning, inquiring what services might be wanted, if it was for cleaning or painting the walls, moving furniture about or whatever. Tavish had had a knack for carpentry, and Katie could do a wash, they were open to almost anything, but it seemed the service most in demand was just to leave. One of the houses they knocked at was that of a baker. The fellow thought there might be a need for a baker’s boy.

  “A baker’s boy?” asked Tavish.

  “To pound the dough and sift the flour, ye ken. But I’d not have a position for your wife in any case.”

  “We’re not married,” Katie spoke up before Tavish could put in a word.

  “Oh, are you brother and sister, then?”

  “No, we’re . . .“

  “We’re companions,” Tavish finished for her.

  “Your companion then, but if you’re going for a position round here the people are mostly very high on their morals. I can’t see you finding a place if you’re not man and wife.”

  Tavish didn’t dare give Katie a look when he heard this. But he did please himself with some thought of the two of them growing old together.

  Come the afternoon they turned to the taverns. They knocked at a couple, seeing if there was need for a barmaid or a cooper or anything of the sort. Though they hadn’t yet found a situation, they were of good cheer that one would soon turn up, and Katie was feeling much her old self, certain the comforts of knowing her place and a place where she was known were soon to be hers.

  Near the end of the day they came on a place that held itself slightly apart. It felt as if a little shadow hung over it, which had caused them to approach it last. It was a tavern but also a mill, though it hadn’t the customary mill wheel. When they entered, the miller’s daughter gave them a smile and led them to the miller, a fellow with a very foul squint. He looked the two over and then asked Tavish if perhaps he was a man who could drive his ox.

  Tavish allowed as how he’d not done it in the past, but he’d seen it done in the fields and he had no doubt he could drive an ox as well as anoth
er.

  “This ox of mine is not in the fields,” said the miller, attempting a sly grin, though it came out more like a scowl. “Want to see him?”

  “That I do.”

  The miller led Tavish and Katie along a hall and down some stairs to a dimly lit room in the cellar. They didn’t know what they were seeing at first. They saw a great log moving in a circle, turning the massive axle at its center that stood on the floor and projected through a hole in the ceiling. The only light was that which filtered through the hole, so it was next to impossible to make anything out when first they entered from the well-lit room upstairs.

  “Where’s the ox?” asked Tavish.

  The miller chuckled. “That is he.”

  They saw a man clad in nothing more than a loin cloth pushing the log round and round. His hair and beard had been let grow, and his cheeks were covered in something reddish dark and murky that after a moment they saw was dried blood. He was thin to the point of scrawniness, but his rope-like muscles stood out as he strained at his task. He slowly drew near where the others were standing.

  “That’s no ox,” said Tavish.

  “He’s my property. I paid for him and he’ll be what I like.” The miller punctuated this remark by spitting on the dirt floor.

  “No, I’ve no stomach for that. Find another to drive your ox.” They turned to leave. Tavish and the miller had started up the stairs and Katie was following behind. She had her foot on the first step but something tugged at her, something in the stance of the man pushing the log that awoke a faint recollection of a man standing under a tree, wincing when the rain drops fell from the branches. She went back to get another look. He was on the opposite side of the room now, but as he drew near in his circular track she made out his face. “Tom . . . ?” she breathed the name, barely more than a whisper. It was a hopeless hope and it wounded her to wake it, knowing it would be crushed. But she heard herself saying the name again, more loudly this time, “Tom . . . ?”

  The man slowed, and came to a stop. He’d gone past where she stood, so his back was to her. “That voice . . . ” The words emerged slowly, as if he spoke in a daze. “That sounds like one I know. But never could she be here.” He swayed and fell to his knees. “Sure I’m dreaming.”

  Tavish looked on in consternation. “Come, Katie,” he said, reaching for her. But she didn’t reach back; she stood where she was, staring at the nearly naked man on his knees as he turned in her direction.

  The miller came bustling down the stairs. “Now look what you’ve done. He’s stopped.” He went to Tom and poked him with his stick while he said to Katie, “You shouldn’t be interfering.”

  Katie’s knees gave way. Then she struggled to her feet, her arms outstretched for Tom. The miller made to interfere but Tavish stepped over to where he stood and wrenched the stick from his hands. When the miller complained, he threatened to strike him. Katie took Tom in her arms.

  Tom, feeling her arms about him and the warmth of her breath on his face, said in a strangled voice, “. . . No, it can’t be . . . But it is you. Oh Lord, oh Lord, let this be no dream.”

  Seeing he didn’t lift his face, Katie said, “Tom, Tom. Look at me.”

  He raised his ruined eyes. “I can’t. But sure I know your voice. It’s that of an angel, sweeter far than any in Heaven.”

  Katie cried aloud, the tears running from her eyes. “Tom, my own Tom, I’ve found you.”

  The miller, held back by Tavish, looked on, uncomprehending.

  “Oh, Katie, ever since I left you I’ve been searching for you. I thought my search was ended here, and here I’ve found you.”

  “Tom, Tom, I’d lost all hope I’d ever get you back.”

  “If only I could look on your face once more it would be all I’d ever ask. But I have no eyes.”

  Endless and enormous, soundless and shameless the tears ran down Katie’s face. They traced rivulets next her nose and mouth, trembled from her chin, then fell in their abundance on her breast, and from there onto Tom’s eyeless sockets. And there a miracle was accomplished. As the sweetness of music can ravish the ear, so his eyes were ravished by the sweetness of her tears, and there where his eyes had been, when Katie’s tears fell on them, the lustrous jelly slowly returned, and where all had been dark there was now a little light. As more tears fell, the light invaded his astonished soul. In the darkened chamber he saw again, first a shape only, outlined by the light, then more clearly, and the first he saw was Katie’s face. It was her face as he’d pictured it through all the days of his pitch black night, but now he saw it lit by unexpected joy. The two of them clasped one another.

  “That’s my ox you’re holding,” protested the miller.

  “Unchain him,” said Tavish.

  “Do you want my ox? If so, you’ll have to find me another, or pay me for this one.”

  “I won’t give him up,” said Katie. “I’ll never give him up.”

  “We haven’t aught we can pay,” added Tavish. “We’re near skint, but I’ll work for it. Any odd job you can name. I’ll work to earn the price of an ox.”

  “I’ve no work for you other than driving this ox. So I’ll ask you to give me back my stick and give me back my ox and I’ll show you to the door.” He grabbed Katie’s shoulder and made to pull her away. At this Tom rose up. The slow burning of his anger at last was ignited, as it had been that time on the Road. He hit the miller in the face, knocking him to his knees and then stood glaring at him.

  “You’re no longer blind,” the miller gasped in unhappy surprise. “You can see!”

  Tom hit the miller again and he moved away. Tom tried to follow, but was held back by the chain. “Come here and let me beat you!” he shouted.

  The miller looked at Tavish, expecting his support, for he knew his cause to be rightful. “You want a job?” he asked. “Then knock him down. He’s my property.”

  “This man is no one’s property,” Tavish answered. “He was a free man in Port Jay. He was never born a slave and I don’t know how he became one.”

  Now the miller’s daughter, hearing the shouting and the noise, rushed in to see what was the matter. “Oh, Da,” she said, “what are you getting up to?”

  “They won’t let me beat my slave,” her father answered.

  “Is it the blind man you chained to the wheel?”

  “Yes, but he’s blind no more. They’ve worked some magic on him and now he wants to be free.”

  She looked to Tom in some amazement, and saw that what her father said was true. “Well you shouldn’t have done it,” she said. “Sure I was ashamed of you when you did and I’m ashamed of myself also for I never said a word.”

  “But he’s my ox!”

  “He’s a man; he’s never an ox. Sometimes, Da, you’re a stubborn old fool. If these people told you to unchain him they were right to do so and it’s a pity it took them coming here to make us see what we should have seen all along.”

  “Give me my stick,” the miller said to Tavish. “I have to beat my daughter.”

  “Go ahead, Da, all you’ll be doing is showing the world what a stupid chowderhead you are. Go on with you and your ox. You’re a stupid man. I doubt you even know how to spell ox.”

  The miller just stood where he was and looked at his daughter. He’d have stood up to the world for what was rightly his, but he knew he couldn’t stand up to this young woman when her choler was roused. And indeed, all of them looked at what had been done, and it was almost as if a black cloud was lifted from their minds. What had they been thinking of, that a man was a beast of burden? Truly it wasn’t right. They knew a man was a nobler thing than that. How had they forgotten?

  “Unchain him,” said the young woman, and the miller obeyed. Then he blushed when his daughter gave him a kiss for doing it. All were made happy and they left the dim chamber underground and climbed back to the room above. Here the miller dispatched his daughter to purchase an ox from a nearby cattle farm.

  Katie and Tom sat with
one another and told of all the events that had passed since last they’d been together. There were many marvels to speak of and much that had to be explained. When Katie came to tell of the death of the baby she cried all over again, feeling the sorrow of it.

  “I so wanted to bring you your child, but I failed in my quest.”

  “Take comfort. There will be time for more babies yet to come.”

  “But all else that was lost is now found. Look.” She told of the death of Vincenzo and drew forth the watch he’d carried with him. It was the same she’d presented to Tom that morning long ago, but now when they looked at it they saw the knots were all untied, and the tangles all made straight. It was a wonder to open it and see the second hand still ticking round and the inscription that had been engraved there, “From your own darling Katie,” brought the tears to their eyes once again.

  Tavish sat in the corner and watched. He’d been forgotten altogether by the two of them as they relived their days of anguish, and he wondered what change this all foretold.

  Just as the dark shadow of the night had retreated here, so it seemed elsewhere, all along the Coast, that daylight had come. Everywhere people were waking up, as if from a bad dream, and seeing now clearly what was to be done. It must have been Cupid’s arrows that did it, fired in profusion wherever hearts were wistful. In encampments beside the River of Tears husbands and wives held hands and blessed the day that had brought them to this spot where a little industry could supply their needs and a family could be raised. In the depths of the sea, the long calamitous war between the mermen and the mermaids was quickly patched up and harmony restored. In a bower deep in the Forest, where many tireless young women pranced skyclad before a figure in a scarlet coat with silver buttons, a pause came to the dance. The motions they were making ceased, and all was suddenly still. A few trees in the background ignited in sparks but then the sparking ended and the fire died. The Devil looked about in dismay. He was not a creature to be seen by daylight. Then, in a sudden access of love the witches left the clearing, running to find the habitations of men. Wherever they encountered them, in Indian camp or settlers’ village, they embraced the young men they found, joyfully propagating a love unbound. It was everywhere a holiday of happiness and requited desire and it was a day the memory of which many lucky young men were to treasure for the rest of their lives.