Nightfall: Caulborn 5

by Nicholas Olivo

  “You’re acting like I’m doing this on purpose,” I said defensively.

  The Tempus put up a hand. “I know you’re not. I realize in hindsight that the bargain I made with Janus was a poor one. He should have been here to guide you, and I forced him to stay away. I have no way of contacting him, else I would renegotiate the situation. And when I realized that, I realized I have been approaching this all wrong. You see, Vincent—and I must ask you to forgive me for this—I have been treating you as if you were a threat to the time stream. As if you were acting willfully and maliciously. I realize now this is not the case. You have never been taught to use your powers, and as such, when you discover them, and then when you experiment with them, you put yourself and the time stream at risk. You had no way of knowing this, and I fell victim to hubris rather than realize it myself.”

  “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You have the ability to travel through time, and yet you can’t go back and renegotiate your deal with my dad?”

  The Tempus frowned. “That would pollute the time stream even further, Vincent. It would undo everything that had been done, and we’d still be in the same place.”

  “If you say so,” I said, rubbing my temples, “but would you mind getting to the point? You’re giving me a headache.”

  The Tempus nodded. “Very well. What I see now is not that you need to be controlled, but that you need to be guided. You need to be shown how to safely use your powers. You need a teacher.”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “And you’re volunteering for that position?”

  “It’s only right,” the Tempus said. “For starters, you can have this.” He slid a small box across the table to me. I lifted the lid and found an oversized wristwatch with twelve hands.

  “You’re joking,” I said. “You’re giving me a chronometer? I already know how to manipulate tachyon.”

  The Tempus gave me a wan smile. “Do you? You can account for all the variables? The dilatation of time in the immediate area, adjust for the rotation of the Earth, all of that?”

  I stared blankly at him.

  “The trick you did with the fire was what got my attention, Vincent,” the Tempus said. “When you freeze something in time, you’re freezing all aspects of it. Its current condition and its current location. If you froze a fire in time and left it in the center of the room, eventually the fire would run into the wall, because the planet beneath it is still rotating. You don’t notice this rotation yourself, because you’re spinning right along with it. But freeze an object in time, and it’s no longer rotating along with the Earth. Eventually, the world will spin the fire into the wall. Do that with a person, and eventually he will be crushed. Try to freeze the spot in its entirety, and eventually the world will rip itself apart. Do you see the dangerous ramifications?”

  I nodded. “But I wasn’t doing anything that big,” I said.

  “That’s true,” the Tempus said. “And that’s how it always starts out. You make a small discovery and you experiment with it on a small scale. And then a crisis arrives, and you take the discovery and use it in a much grander fashion. And that causes damage to the time stream. This time, I intend to break this infinite loop we’re in. I am giving you this device. It is a training version of the chronometers the Chroniclers receive. Each new initiate wears this while he or she adapts to fourth-dimensional thinking. It does not have the ability to time travel, that is something I will teach you at another time, but it will allow you to safely manipulate tachyon.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” the Tempus replied. “The device will detect when you’re manipulating tachyon, and it will adjust for any factors you haven’t considered. It then stores that information in a log you can review later. If it detects you are doing something that could be detrimental to the time stream, or would alter the future in an adverse way, it will stop you. If you tried to say, freeze the sun in time so it no longer warmed the solar system, then it would stop you. If you tried to prevent Abraham Lincoln from being assassinated, it would stop you.”

  “If I don’t have the ability to time travel, I don’t think that last one is very likely,” I said dryly.

  “I am merely trying to put this into a context that you will understand, Vincent,” the Tempus said. “I know you don’t like me, and honestly, I don’t blame you. I have made a mess of things when you and I could have been allies, when I could have been helping you all along and not constantly at loggerheads with you. I want to remedy that. That chronometer is a tool that will help you.”

  He paused, as if considering his next words. “Previously, I have unfairly treated you as if you were a child who thought time was a toy to be played with.” He shook his head. “For that, I sincerely apologize. Your actions of late, both with Laplace’s demon and how you repaired the damage to the time stream when it was fractured, show me that you are much more responsible than I have given you credit for.” He looked up at me then.

  “One thing I tell all my Chroniclers early on is that time is not a weapon. Evil people have used time in that way—speeding up time on the left side of a man’s body while slowing it down on the right, for example. The end result is excruciating and inhuman. Chroniclers who do that are executed. I cannot order you as I could one of my men. But I can ask that you not do it. If you do, I will make you an enemy of the Chroniclers, and my men will hunt you. It will be unpleasant for both of us.”

  “That scenario you just described is disgusting,” I said. “I won’t do anything like that.”

  “Good,” the Tempus said. “The chronometer will not allow you to freeze time. It will allow you to slow it for short durations, but understand that slowing time frequently is harmful to the time stream, as well. Time needs to flow at a constant speed in order for things to work smoothly. Imagine a garden hose. If you turn the water on, and then kink the hose, the output of the hose is decreased. What happens if you repeatedly kink and unkink the hose?”

  “The water flows unsteadily,” I said. “And somewhat unpredictably.” I thought for a moment. “And you’d damage the hose, over time. Wear it out, cause leaks at the spot where the kinks were.”

  The Tempus gave me a genuine smile at that point, the kind of smile a teacher has for a pupil who’s just figured something out. “Exactly. If the time stream were to begin to leak, as you say, then the consequences would be disastrous to our reality. It would make the fractures you dealt with earlier insignificant in comparison. So I’m going to ask that you not slow time down too much.”

  With all of this information, a question came to mind. “When I was fixing the fractures, I fought a being named Sakave. I killed him by aging him with tachyon. Did that damage the time stream?”

  The Tempus stared at me for a moment. “You aged him?”

  I nodded. “He was a near-immortal with over a million years left in his life. I sped tachyon up around him, essentially ran out the clock on him.” I regarded the Tempus’s confused expression. “You didn’t know about that?”

  “No, and I should have,” he said, his face troubled. “I am not going to play games with you, Vincent. I will admit that I have done that in the past, and it has never ended well. Please tell me everything that happened.”

  I explained how I’d trapped Sakave in a pocket dimension and fought him. When I was done, the Tempus drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s possible that when you created that pocket dimension, you created it outside the timestream, as we are now. Time does not flow here in the traditional sense, but if someone were to employ tachyon here, it would function normally and would likely behave in the manner you just described.” He rubbed his chin.

  “What aren’t you telling me?” I asked.

  The Tempus’s brow furrowed, as if he were thinking something through. “I have learned to consider all possibilities where you are concerned, Vi
ncent Corinthos. It is likely that what happened with Sakave is just as I said, your pocket dimension was outside time. However”—he held up a finger—“it is possible, not likely, mind you, but possible, that you created an entirely separate, temporary reality with its own time stream.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?”

  “It’s unlikely, but it’s the only other way that you could use tachyon as you did without me or the other Chroniclers noticing it. I will have to consider this further, and, if you would like, I would be glad to perform some tests with you. This warrants further investigation.”

  “Definitely,” I said, standing up. “But this isn’t the best time for that. I realize no time has passed back home, but I have work to do. Before I go, have you guys had any luck tracking down Treggen?”

  The Tempus’s face darkened. “No. I am unsure how he continues to elude us. There have been anomalies in the time stream, things I believe him responsible for, but nothing that gives me an inkling to his whereabouts.” He looked at me. “I know you have history with him, Vincent, but Treggen is not one to be trifled with. The Chroniclers will deal with him, and he will pay for his crimes.”

  “Fair warning,” I said, “if I get the chance, I’m killing that asshole.” And with that, I gave a wave and moved to portal back to the office.

  Which of course, didn’t work because of HQ’s wards.

  The Tempus merely smiled at me. “Allow me.” A second later, a rift opened back to my office. I nodded at the Tempus and stepped through. As the rift closed behind me, my phone rang. “Hey boss,” I said, when I saw it was Galahad’s line.

  “Vincent, I have arranged for assistance from Ashgate. A detail will be sent to the Undercity, and two guards will join you and me for our mission to the Aquarium.”

  “Only two?”

  “The challenge, unfortunately, is that not all of Ashgate’s staff are caul bearers. I will not subject anyone to this mission who is at risk of mental domination.”

  “Makes sense. When do we leave?”

  “Meet me in the lobby in ten minutes. We’ll meet up with the Ashgate staff at the Aquarium.”

  I used the ten minutes to experiment with the chronometer the Tempus had given me. It didn’t let me create temporal sheaths, but I could slow time down in an area. No ability to outright stop time, either. I’d have to play around with this some more when I had a chance. In the meantime, the kobolds had been praying to me. Unlike the Urisk, who traditionally prayed as part of their morning routines, the kobolds prayed to me through drinking songs, so the longer the night wore on, the louder, more raucous and more plentiful the prayers became.

  Galahad joined me in the lobby right on time. We left the office and walked down the street, where he led me over to his ancient Buick Century. He actually unlocked the doors using a key; that’s how old this thing was. “Boss,” I said, “I’ve been to the Aquarium a bunch of times. I can just portal us there.”

  “I know,” Galahad replied as he opened his door. “But I wanted to speak with you.”

  Oh, that can’t be good.

  I opened the passenger door, slid onto the blue-upholstered seat, and fastened my seatbelt. On the dashboard, a statuette of the Virgin Mary stood facing out the windshield.

  “I thought these statues were supposed to face you,” I said, gesturing.

  “If I did that, then the Blessed Mother wouldn’t be able to watch traffic for me, Vincent,” Galahad said with a wink. “I think it a much more appropriate use of her protections.” He started the car and navigated us into the street. “How are you feeling, Vincent?”

  “Me? Fine, why?”

  “You recently lost the Urisk. I cannot even imagine what such an event would be like.”

  “Oh. That. Well.” I’d been doing my best to not think about the Urisk. I hadn’t exactly lost them; I’d given them up to protect them. It was for their own good, and the good of the time stream and reality itself. “I miss them,” I admitted. “But Lotholio will do great, and the people have one of their own in charge. Besides, it will let me focus more on my day job here.”

  “So you’ve changed your mind about quitting?”

  I nodded, but in truth, I hadn’t thought about it at all. “I was going to leave because both my duties to the Urisk and the Caulborn were suffering. Now that the Urisk aren’t depending on me, I can focus more here.”

  “What about your kobolds?”

  “They’re a much more independent people than the Urisk were. Kobolds make traps, spy, and fight when necessary. The Urisk had been lobotomized so they couldn’t protect themselves, couldn’t imagine doing those things unless I told them to. Plus, the kobolds have Cather watching out for them, too. So it’s not as involved being their god.”

  Galahad nodded. “I am relieved to hear you say that you’ll be staying with us. Dark times are coming, Vincent. The Caulborn will need you in the days ahead.”

  “Boss? What do you know that you aren’t telling me?”

  “Just that I know certain prophecies are coming to bear. You know of the Dodici Prophecy. The twelve demons that are imprisoned beneath Park Street Church will break free soon. Mrs. Rita and I have done everything we can to reinforce the restraints, to no avail. We discussed having your kobolds examine the restraints, as you suggested, but the bonds are weakening so rapidly that nothing is going to stop their eventual breakage. When that happens, I need you to be there. No matter what happens, Vincent, you have to be there to fight those twelve.”

  “You can count on me, boss.”

  “Excellent.”

  This conversation, of course, reminded me of a question I’d been meaning to ask him for a while.

  “Boss, what’s the deal with that prophecy, anyway? How’d you get to be a part of it?”

  Galahad was quiet for a minute, and I was starting to think he was going to ignore the question when he spoke. “You know I used to be a priest, and that I left the church because I was angry at my bishop for covering up the atrocities some of my fellow clergy did to children. When I resigned my position, I wandered around the city for a time. I eventually found my way to the Shrine of St. Anthony.” He smiled. “When I was a boy and I’d lost a trinket, my Gran used to tell me that I should pray to St. Anthony and he would help me find it. Well, I’d lost my way, and if ever there was a time for me to ask for help from above, this was it. So I went into the shrine to pray.”

  My Glimpse kicked on.

  Chapter 7

  Wolfram, I share your concerns about both prophecy and time stream. I have taken steps to ensure Corinthos cannot interfere with what must come to pass. Time and prophecy will continue on their predefined courses; Corinthos will be unable to alter them.

  — From a letter from the Tempus to Stranger Wolfram

  In the Glimpse, a much younger Galahad XI knelt in a pew in a small shrine. His head was bowed and there were tears on his face. He was wearing the black uniform of a priest, minus the white collar. The shrine was empty, as if the world wanted to give this one man a chance to have a moment alone with his god.

  And then someone else was in the shrine. She didn’t come through the door, didn’t materialize with smoke and pyrotechnics; she was just there.

  “Daniel MacPherson,” she said gently.

  Galahad jumped up. Daniel MacPherson? So that was the boss’s real name. I’ve known Galahad for years, but this was the first time I’d ever heard it. Galahad hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He cleared his throat and gave a half-hearted smile. “Yes, what can I do to help you?” Galahad was looking at the woman, who had her back to me, as if trying to place her face.

  She chuckled. “Don’t worry, Daniel. I’m not one of your congregation. You haven’t forgotten anyone.” That voice… I moved around and saw Leslie standing before Galahad. She looked a lot younger
, like forty years younger, with blonde hair in an elaborate braid that reached halfway down her back. She wore a flowing purple gown that was straight out of a ren fair.

  Galahad gave an embarrassed smile. “Then I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Miss.”

  “My name is Lessenthia. I am here because of the request you just made.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She gave him a warm smile, a rarity from the Leslie I knew. “You just asked God for another way to serve him. Another way to protect and guide his children.”

  “How on Earth did you know that?” Galahad took a step back from Leslie.

  “Please. Who do you think sent me?” She paused, letting that sink in. Galahad sat down in the pew. Hard.

  “God sent you to me.” It wasn’t exactly a question, but not exactly a statement, either.

  “You doubt?”

  Galahad shook his head. “No. I just didn’t think he took a direct role in things like he used to.”

  Leslie sighed. “You’re right, he doesn’t. In the early days, long before my time, he came down and handled everything himself. He worked in the Garden of Eden, planting trees and shrubs, caring for animals, conversing with the men and women he’d made. Then the world got too big, and he had to start delegating. A little over two thousand years ago, he sent his Son. About a thousand years ago, he sent another group of men. You know them as the knights of the round table.”