Bearing an Hourglass (23 page)

A man was inspecting magic stones. He had evidently decided on a large Wealthstone, the kind with a floating six-rayed star. As Norton watched, the man checked a Lovestone and then a Deathstone, then retreated from the store.

Norton jumped ahead to catch the man’s recent future, after he bought the Wealthstone. By a series of jumps and pauses, Norton traced the man to his somewhat dingy apartment in Kilvarough. There the man discovered that his stone was not as good as represented; it produced only small change, not riches.

Norton jumped ahead three more hours, checked the man’s apartment—and saw his body lying on the floor, blood pooled from a gunshot wound in the head.

So Satan was right. The man had made a bad choice and had therefore taken his own life. He had no future on Earth, literally. Satan planned to give him a better future—and what was wrong with that?

Norton moved back in world time, avoiding the actual suicide; he certainly didn’t need to torment himself with that gory killing! More deeply perplexed at Satan’s motive, he phased himself back to an episode he had only glimpsed in passing. A pretty young woman had had trouble with her carpet near a billboard advertising the supposed delights of Hell—what would Satan think of next?—and the proprietor of the Mess o’ Pottage shop had rescued her. Now Norton was able to re-create the detail: the
client had spotted the woman by using the Lovestone, but the proprietor had foisted off a worthless stone and taken the woman for himself. It had been a highly profitable bit of flimflam, for as Norton traced their subsequent lives, he verified that the woman had made a significant difference. She was beautiful, wealthy, loving, and loyal—in fact, she was far better than the conniving shopkeeper deserved. If Satan interfered, so that the client chose the Lovestone to buy, the man would gain the woman for himself and have a deservedly better life—the kind of life Norton himself would have liked to have with Orlene.

Now Norton was in doubt. Should he, after all, do Satan this favor? He wanted to be fair, and it certainly seemed that Satan had a good cause this time. Maybe Norton could not grant himself a lifetime of romance, but he could do it for this other man and feel a vicarious satisfaction.

“Should I?” he asked Sning.

Squeeze, squeeze.

“Why not? I don’t like Satan, but I do want to be fair. Shouldn’t I support him when he’s right?”

Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

Of course the little serpent could not answer such a comment directly! Well, Norton would think about it. The lives of ordinary people were governed by the threads of Fate; maybe he should ask her why she had allowed so gross an inequity in this case.

He set his Hourglass and traveled back home to his present time. He hoped Clotho would be awaiting him, but she wasn’t. Apparently she had not properly coordinated things this time. Instead, Satan was there.

“Well?” the Prince of Evil asked.

“I checked your situation,” Norton said. “I see nothing wrong with what you contemplate—but I haven’t yet made up my mind.”

“My amulet,” Satan said, peering at him. “Where is it?”

“Oh—it bothered someone I visited, so she destroyed it with holy water. Sorry about that.”

Satan seemed to swell. His face reddened, and a wisp of smoke drifted from one nostril. “Destroyed one of My—!”

Then Satan got control of himself and settled down. “It is of no consequence; it was only a trinket. So you are still considering My errand?”

“Yes.”

“Remember, I am prepared to pay well for such minor favors. Here, I will provide another sample.”

“Oh, you don’t need to—”

But Satan gestured, and suddenly Norton was sailing through space, as he had done before, on his way to a contraterrene frame, where time flowed backward. He hadn’t protested quickly enough, it seemed.

–9–

He arrived this time at a different location, in a Magic-Lantern Cloud, coming to rest on the surface of a lovely Earthlike planet. Here space was not densely crowded with stars, so it was evident that distinct days and nights were feasible. Stately oak trees shaded the greensward, and daffodils grew in pleasant clusters.

Immediately before him stood a marvelously lovely young woman. Her hair was long but curly, like a mass of golden shavings, and she wore a long and modest dress that could not conceal her aesthetic contours. Her eyes were gray-blue, her lips red, and her hands and feet were quite dainty. She was staring at Norton with an attitude of faint surprise and dismay.

“Hello,” he said experimentally.

“But I meant to conjure a steed!” she exclaimed indignantly. She held up her right hand, one of whose delicate fingers bore a large and obviously magic ring.

“It seems your conjuration glitched,” Norton said apologetically. “I’m just a man.”

“A demon, belike!” she snorted. She stamped her petite foot angrily. “The magic works but once a day; now it is wasted, and I am stranded afoot. What use have I for a mere man?”

Why was it that the prettiest young women were the least interested in men? “Uh, maybe I can help you find another steed.”

She studied him appraisingly, as if he might after all be of some use. “Be that a magic ring you wear?”

He glanced at Sning. “Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Then do you use it to conjure me a steed to replace the one you usurped,” she commanded imperiously.

“But it’s not that kind of ring.”

Her eyes fairly flashed fire. “What manner of man are you, to tease a maiden so? You owe me a steed!”

Norton wasn’t sure about that, but she was so pretty and sure of herself that he really did not want to disappoint her. He would have to show her the nature of his ring. “Sning—”

Sning uncoiled from his finger and slithered across his hand and dropped to the verdant ground. He expanded as he did so, becoming a regularly sized green snake, and then a python, and finally a monster a foot in diameter.

“Sirrah!” the Damsel exclaimed, drawing a gleaming dagger. “Ye shall not consume me without a fight!”

“Oh, Sning doesn’t eat people,” Norton said uncertainly. “He’s friendly. I think he’s offering himself as a steed.” He was amazed at this development; he had never suspected that Sning could change size. Maybe it was a talent limited to visits to contraterrene worlds, where the rules might differ.

“Fool would I be indeed to trust my tender flesh to the back of that fell reptile!” she cried.

“I’m sure it’s safe. Here, I’ll show you.” Norton approached the monstrous Sning and climbed clumsily onto an elevated loop. The snake’s flesh was firm and dry and slightly resilient, quite comfortable, and not slippery. Norton had no trouble maintaining his perch. “See—Sning will carry you anywhere you need to go, Miss—”

“Excelsia,” she said. “And who be ye?”

“Norton.” Fresh from his dialogue with Orlene, he did not care to go into the Chronos business yet. He wondered, irrelevantly, what her rule was for the use of “you” and “ye,” as it did not seem consistent.

“I’ll not ride that creature alone, sirrah!”

Norton shrugged. “I’ll ride with you, of course.” He had not intended to separate from Sning anyway. “You can take another coil.”

Warily she approached a loop behind his own. She mounted, sitting demurely sidesaddle. “But where are the reins?”

“I think he’s under voice control. Where are you going?”

She cocked her head prettily. “Why, I had not decided.”

“You wanted to conjure a steed without having a destination?”

Cute annoyance fleeted across her face. “Well, usually I fetch in a handsome unicorn, and we decide together.”

A unicorn. It figured. Back on Earth such creatures were hideously expensive, and the prospective owner had to show a pedigree as detailed as that of the animal before being permitted the purchase. Unicorns, like dragons, had gone underground during the so-called enlightened period, having their horns amputated, which, of course, robbed them of most of their magical powers. But they still bred true, and now there were some fine breeds openly displayed. It had been a similar story with winged horses. In time there would be greater numbers of them; but at present, rarity put a premium on all such magical steeds. Here, it seemed, such animals were more common.

“Why not go to the unicorn corral, or whatever, and fetch one now?”

Excelsia issued a tinkling peal of laughter. “Sirrah, no one fetches a unicorn other than by compulsion of magic charm, and then it can only be accomplished by a lovely virgin like me.”

Oh. Just so. “Well, maybe some other type of steed. One you can keep from day to day so you don’t have to conjure a new one each time you want to ride.”

Again she cocked her head, considering. She did not seem to be unusually intelligent, but her beauty made up for that. “There be only one magical steed a person can keep, and that one be already under the spell of the Evil Sorceress.”

“What steed is that?”

Her face became rapturous. “The Alicorn.”

“The what?”

“He be a winged unicorn, the finest equine flesh extant, the adoration of every fair and innocent maiden. For that steed I would give anything.”

“Anything?”

She glanced sharply at him, making a moue. “What was that thought, sirrah?”

Norton reddened. “It’s just that—as I understand it—if you gave that gift that only you can give, you wouldn’t be able to keep the Alicorn.”

“True,” she agreed shortly. “But it makes no nevermind, for no one can capture the Alicorn anyway.”

“Well, let’s expore this. Exactly what are the barriers to acquisition?”

She frowned. “What was that word?”

“Acquisition. That is, capturing the Alicorn.”

“Oh. First there be the Evil Sorceress, who must be slain ere the preserve be approached. Then—”

He didn’t like this. “Slain? Isn’t there a gentler way?”

“Who intrudes on her territory but slays her not, she turns to slime.”

Point made! “One can’t reason with her?”

“Reason with that bi—” She paused. “I fear I know not the applicable term.”

“Of course you don’t,” he agreed gently.

“Have you ever tried to reason with a woman?” she demanded challengingly.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t get far,” he conceded, and that mollified her. “Assuming we get by the Evil Sorceress, what other barriers are there?”

“The Evil Estate be fraught with hostile creatures and unkind spells. It be virtual death merely to set foot within it.”

She was serious, and that made him nervous, but he felt obliged to learn whatever he could about this. “We might not set foot,” he said. “We could ride Sning in, so only his coils would touch the ground.”

“There be that,” she agreed, pleased.

“Let’s assume we get safely into the Evil Estate. Then what?”

“The Guardian Dragon,” she said.

“Dragon?” Gawain the Ghost had trained him in dragon slaying, but from that training Norton had gleaned a profound respect for the battle prowess of the species. It was best to avoid a dragon!

“Huge, enormous, and tremendous,” she said, her attractive eyes narrowing with anticipated horror. “A big monster, very large, and of formidable size. He slays all who dast approach. He patrols the region around the Alicorn’s pen, and none may pass unchallenged.” She glanced obliquely at him. “Unless you, kind sir, perchance—?”

“As it happens,” Norton said unwillingly, “I’ve had some training in dragon fighting. But of course I’ve never actually—”

“Oh, joy!” she exclaimed, clapping her little hands with maidenly delight. “Then we can pass the monster!”

Norton wanted to demur, but her expression of pleasure was so gratifying that he left the qualification unvoiced. It was very hard for a reasonable man to disappoint a lovely woman. “So if we should somehow get to the Alicorn—”

“Then still be the victory not ours,” she said, “for he be the wildest of creatures. Fire snorts from his nostrils and sparks from his mane, and were he not cruelly tethered in place, he would bound into the sky and vanish from human ken forever.” Her gaze lowered, a token of sorrow at the loss.

“Is there any way to tame him so he will stay voluntarily with you?”

“Aye, there be a Word of Power. Utter it, and he be tame.”

“What Word is that?”

She shrugged tragically. “Alas, I know not!”

“Well, first things first. How does one kill the Evil Sorceress?”

“For that, methinks only the Enchanted Sword will do.”

That sounded good; it helped to have magic when interacting with a dragon. “Where is that?”

She shrugged again. It was an intriguing motion, the way she performed it. “I know not, sirrah. It is said that the Sword will appear only to a truly worthy Hero, lifted from deep water by a hidden hand.”

Norton sighed. He surely did not qualify for that Sword! He should have known there would be a catch. Also, he saw no water near—and if there had been any, how would he know
which
deep water, where?

Sning brought his head around to look at him. “You have an answer?” Norton inquired. Then, quickly: “Don’t answer in the usual way!”