Dancers at the End of Time (65 page)

"It is similar equipment, though more complex. It should preserve our world for eternity. I shall make a loop of a seven-day period. Once made, it will be inviolable. The cities will become self-perpetuating; there will be no threats either from Time or from Space, for the world will be closed off, re-living the same seven days over and over again."

"We shall re-live the same short period for eternity?" The Duke of Queens shook his head. "I must say, Jagged, that your scheme has no more attraction than Yusharisp's."

Lord Jagged was grave. "If you are conscious of what is happening, then you will not repeat your actions during that period. But the time will remain the same, even though it seems to change."

"We shall not be trapped — condemned to a mere week of activity which we shall not be able to alter?"

"I think not." Lord Jagged looked out across the miles and miles of wasteland. "Ordinary life, as we know it at the End of Time, can continue as it has always done. The Nursery itself was deliberately limited — a kind of temporal deep-freeze to preserve the children."

"How quickly one would become bored, if one had the merest hint that that was happening." The Iron Orchid did her best to hide any anxiety she might display.

"Again, it is a question of attitudes, my dear. Is the prisoner a prisoner because he lives in a cage or because he 
knows
 that he lives in a cage?"

"Oh, I shall not attempt to discuss such things!"

He spoke fondly. "And there, my dear, lies your salvation." He embraced her. "And now there is one more thing I must do here. The equipment must be supplied with energy."

While they watched, he walked a little way into the city and stood looking about him. His pose was at once studied and casual. Then he seemed to come to a decision and placed the palm of his right hand across all the rings on his left.

The city gave out one high, almost triumphant, yell. There came a pounding roar as every building shook itself. Blue and crimson light blended in a brilliant aura overhead, blotting the sun. Then a deep sound, comforting and powerful, issued from the very core of the planet. There was a rustling from the city, familiar murmurings, the squeak of some half-mechanical creature.

Then the aura began to grow dim and Jagged became tense, as if he feared that the city could not, after all, supply the energy for his experiment.

There came a whining noise. The aura grew strong again and formed a dome-shaped cap hovering a hundred feet or more over the whole of the city. Then Lord Jagged of Canaria seemed to relax, and when he turned back to them there was a suggestion of self-congratulation in his features.

Amelia Underwood was the first to speak as he returned. "Ah, Mephistopheles. Are you capable, now, of creation?"

He was flattered by the reference this time. He shared a private glance. "What's this, Mrs.

Underwood? Manicheanism?"

"Oh, dear! Perhaps!" A hand went to her mouth, but she parodied herself.

He added: "I cannot create a world, Amelia, but I can revive an existing one, bring the dead to life.

And perhaps I once hoped to populate another world. Oh, you are right to think me prideful. It could be my undoing."

On Jagged's right, from behind a gleaming ruin of gold and steel, came Harold Underwood and Sergeant Sherwood. They sweated, both, but seemed unaware of the heat. Mr. Underwood indicated the sunny sky, the blue aura. "See Sergeant Sherwood, how they tempt us now." He pushed his pince-nez more firmly onto his nose as he approached Lord Jagged who towered over him, his extra height given emphasis by his face-framing collar. "Did I hear right, sir?" said Mr. Underwood. "Did my wife — perhaps my ex-wife, I am not sure — refer to you by a certain name?"

Lord Jagged, smiling, bowed.

"Ha!" said Harold Underwood, satisfied. "I must congratulate you, I suppose, on the quality of your illusions, the variety of your temptations, the subtlety of your torments. This present illusion, for instance, could well deceive some. What seemed to be Hell now resembles Heaven. Thus, you tempted Christ, on the mountain."

Even Lord Jagged was nonplussed. "The reference was a joking one, Mr. Underwood…"

"Satan's jokes are always clever. Happily, I have the example of my Saviour. Therefore, I bid you good-day, Son of the Morning. You may have claimed my soul, but you shall never own it. I trust you are thwarted as often as possible in your machinations."

"Um…" said Lord Jagged.

Harold Underwood and Sergeant Sherwood began to head towards the interior, but not before Harold had addressed his wife: "You are doubtless already Satan's slave, Amelia. Yet I know we can still be saved, if we are genuinely repentant and believe in the Salvation of Christ. Be wary of all this, Amelia.

It is merely a semblance of life."

"Very convincing, on the surface, though, isn't it, sir?" said Sergeant Sherwood.

"He is the Master Deceiver, Sergeant."

"I suppose 'e is, sir."

"But —" Harold flung an arm around his disciple — "I was right in one thing, eh? I said we should meet Him eventually."

Amelia sucked at her lower lip. "He is quite mad, Jherek. What should we do for him? Can he be sent back to Bromley?"

"He seems very much at ease here, Amelia. Perhaps so long as he receives regular meals which the city, after all, can be programmed to provide, he could stay here with Sergeant Sherwood."

"I should not like to abandon him."

"We can come and visit him from time to time."

She remained dubious. "It has not quite impinged upon me," she said, "that it is not the end of the world!"

"Have you ever seen him more relaxed?"

"Never. Very well, let him stay here, for the moment at least, in his — his Eternal Damnation." She uttered a peculiar laugh.

Inspector Springer approached Lord Jagged with due deference. "So things are more or less back to normal then, are they sir?"

"More or less, Inspector."

Inspector Springer sucked at a tooth. "Then I suppose we'd better get on with the job then, sir.

Roundin' up the suspects and that…"

"Most of them are in the clear now, Inspector."

"The Latvians, Lord Jagged?"

"I suppose you could arrest them, yes."

"Very good, sir." Inspector Springer saluted and returned his attention to his twelve constables. "All right, lads. Back on duty again. What's Sherwood up to? Better give 'im a blast on your whistle, Reilly, see if 'e answers." He mopped his forehead. "This 
is
 a very peculiar place. If I was a dreamin' man, I'd be 'alf inclined to think I was in the middle of a bloomin' nightmare. Har, har!" The answering laughter of some of his men as they plodded behind him was almost hollow.

Una Persson glanced at one of several instruments attached to her arm. "I congratulate you, Lord Jagged. The first stages are a great success. We hope to be able to return to witness the completion."

"I would be honoured, Mrs. Persson."

"Forgive me, now, if I get back to my machine. Captain Bastable…"

Bastable hovered, evidently reluctant to go.

"Captain Bastable, we really must —"

He became attentive. "Of course, Mrs. Persson. The Shifter and so forth." He waved a cheerful hand to them all. "It's been an enormous pleasure. And thank you so much, Lord Jagged, for the privilege…"

"Not at all."

"I suppose, unless we do return just before the loop is finally made, we shall not be able to meet —"

"Come along, Oswald!" Mrs. Persson was marching through the mellow sunshine to where they had left their machine.

"Oh, I don't know." Lord Jagged waved in reply. "A pleasant journey to you."

"Thanks most awfully, again."

"Captain Bastable!"

"— because of the drawbacks you mentioned," shouted Bastable breathlessly, and ran to join his co-chrononaut.

When they had gone, Amelia Underwood looked almost suspiciously at the man Jherek one day hoped to make her father-in-law. "The world is definitely saved, is it, Lord Jagged?"

"Oh, definitely. The cities have ample energy. The time-loop, when it is made, will re-cycle that energy. Jherek has told you of his adventures in the Nursery. You understand the principle."

"Sufficiently, I hope. But Captain Bastable spoke of drawbacks."

"I see." Lord Jagged pulled his cloak about him. Now Mongrove and the Duke of Queens, the time-traveller and the Iron Orchid, Jherek and Amelia were all that remained of his audience. He spoke more naturally. "Not for all, Amelia, those drawbacks. After a short period of readjustment, say a month, in which Nurse and I will test our equipment until we are satisfied with its functioning, the world will be in a perpetually closed circuit, with both past and future abolished. A single planet turning about a single sun will be all that remains of this universe. It will mean, therefore, that both time-travel and space-travel will be impossible. The drawback will be (for many of us) that there is no longer any intercourse between our world of the End of Time and other worlds."

"That is all?"

"It will mean much to some."

"To me!" groaned the Duke of Queens. "I do wish you had told me, Jagged. I'd hoped to re-stock my menagerie." He looked speculatively at the Pweelian spaceship. He fingered a power-ring.

"A few time-travellers may yet arrive, before the loop is made," comforted Jagged. "Besides, doleful Duke, your creative instincts will be fulfilled for a while, I am sure, by helping in the resurrection of all our old friends. There are dozens. Argonheart Po…"

"Bishop Castle. My Lady Charlotina. Mistress Christia. Sweet Orb Mace. O'Kala Incarnadine.

Doctor Volospion." The Duke brightened.

"The long-established time-travellers, like Li Pao, may also still he here — or will re-appear, thanks to the Morphail Effect."

"I thought you had proved that a fallacy, Lord Jagged." Mongrove spoke with interest.

"I have proved it a Law — but not the only Law — of Time."

"We shall resurrect Brannart and tell him!" said the Iron Orchid.

Amelia was frowning. "So the planet will be completely isolated, for eternity, in time and space."

"Exactly," said Jagged.

"Life will continue as it has always done," said the Duke of Queens. "Who shall you resurrect first, Mongrove?"

"Werther de Goethe, I suppose. He is no real fellow spirit, but he will do for the moment." The giant cast a glance back at the Pweelian spaceship as he began to move his great bulk forward. "Though it will be a travesty, of course."

"What do you mean, melancholy Mongrove?" The Duke of Queens turned a power-ring to rid himself of his uniform and replace it with brilliant multicoloured feathers from head to foot, a coxcomb in place of his hair.

"A travesty of life. This will be a stagnant planet, forever cycling a stagnant sun. A stagnant society, without progress or past. Can you not see it, Duke of Queens? Shall we have been spared death only to become the living dead, dancing forever to the same stale measures?"

The Duke of Queens was amused. "I congratulate you, Lord Mongrove. You have found an image with which to distress yourself. I admire your alacrity!"

Lord Mongrove licked his large lips and wrinkled his great nose. "Ah, mock me, as you always mock me — as you all mock me. And why not? I am a fool! I should have stayed out there, in space, while suns flickered and faded and whole planets exploded and became dust. Why remain here, after all, a maggot amongst maggots?"

"Oh, Mongrove, your gloom is of the finest!" Lord Jagged congratulated him. "Come — you must all be my guests at Castle Canaria!"

"Your castle survives, Jagged?" Jherek asked, putting his arm round his Amelia's waist.

"As a memory, swiftly restored to reality — as shall be the entire society at the End of Time. That is what I meant, Amelia, when I told you that memories would suffice."

She smiled a little bleakly. She had been listening intently to Mongrove's forebodings. It took some little while before she could rid herself of her thoughts and laugh with the others as they said farewell to the time-traveller, who intended, now that he had certain information from Mrs. Persson, to make repairs to his craft and return to his own world if he could.

The Duke of Queens stood on the grey, cracked plain and admired his handiwork. It was a great squared-off monster of a vehicle and it bobbed gently in the light wind which stirred the dust at their feet.

"The bulk of it is the gas-container — the large rear-section," he explained to Jherek. "The front is called, I believe, the cab."

"And the whole?"

"From the twentieth century. An articulated truck."

The Iron Orchid sighed as she tripped towards it, gathering up the folds of her wedding dress. "It looks most uncomfortable."

"Not as bad as you'd think," the Duke reassured her. "There is breathing equipment inside the gas-bag."

Soon all would be as it had always been, before the winds of limbo had come to blow their world away. Flesh, blood and bone, grass and trees and stone would flourish beneath the fresh-born sun, and beauty of every sort, simple or bizarre, would bloom upon the face of that arid, ancient planet. It would be as if the universe had never died; and for that the world must thank its half-senile cities and the arrogant persistence of that obsessive temporal investigator from the twenty-first century, from the Dawn Age, who named himself for a small pet singing bird fashionable two hundred years before his birth, who displayed himself like an actor, yet disguised himself and his motives with all the consummate cunning of a Medici courtier; this fantastico in yellow, this languid meddler in destinies, Lord Jagged of Canaria.

They had already witnessed the rebuilding of Castle Canaria, at first a glowing mist, opaque and coruscating, modelled upon a wickerwork cage, some seventy-five feet high; and then its bars had become pale gold and within could be seen the floating compartments, each a room, where Jagged chose to live in certain moods (though he had had other moods, other castles). They had watched while Lord Jagged had spread the sky with tints of pink-tinged amber and cornflower blue, so that the orb of the sun burned a dull, rich red and cast shadows through the bars of that great cage so that it seemed the surrounding dust was criss-crossed by lattice: but then the dust itself was banished and turf replaced it, sparkling as it might after a shower, and there were hedges, too, and trees, and a pool of clear water, all standing in contrast to the surrounding landscape, thousands and thousands of miles of featureless desert.