"The Houses of Parliament have a pickup for members at midnight," Ouhish said. "That letter would have been on the train to Scotland half an hour later. It would have been in Edinburgh, and delivered, with the first post, sometime after five in the morning. No later than seven, anyway. If a reply was passed directly back to the postman, that letter would also have gone on a train within an hour or so, and the reply would have been in London— Windsor, in this case— by the two-o'clock post at the latest."
Rhiow shook her head. "And we think our ehhif have technology," she said softly. "Sometimes retrotech has its points."
They spent the afternoon at the museum and said their farewells to Ouhish and Hwallis around four: then went for one last meeting, in Green Park. Artie was out for one last afternoon in London: the next morning he was due to catch the train back to Edinburgh, and after that, he would be heading off to a school on the Continent. He was sorrowful, but his basic good cheer would not let the affair be entirely a sad one.
"But will I never see you again," Artie said, "or Ith?"
"For our own part, it seems unlikely," Rhiow said. "Mostly wizards don't do time-work without permission from the Powers. There are too many things that can go wrong. But you will remember us for a long time."
Probably not forever, she thought but didn't say. One of the factors that protected wizardry from revelation was the tendency of humans' minds to censor themselves over time, forgetting the impossible, recasting the improbable into more acceptable forms. Childhood memories, in particular, were liable to this kind of editing, as the adult mind decided retroactively what things could have happened in the "real world" and which were dreams. Yet Artie was a little unusual. There was something about him that suggested he would not easily let go of a memory, and that no matter how impossible something was, if it was true, he would cope with it... and hang on.
"But Ith is another story," Urruah said. "His time isn't precisely our time: the universe where he lives is closer to the heart of things, and so a little easier to get in and out of, for him. Also, he outranks us." Urruah smiled. "He's a Senior now, and Seniors have more latitude."
"No matter what else happens," Fhrio said, "remember that you helped save the queen, and many millions of people you'll never know. You'll never be able to prove it to anybody. But without you, we would not have been guaranteed entry into this timeline... and we couldn't have been sure to save the others. You did that. It might have been an accident at first, but afterwards, you did it willingly. We won't forget that, or you... and neither will the Powers."
Artie smiled at that. "I guess it's better than nothing."
"Immeasurably," Rhiow said.
They parted as sunset drew on, and made their way back to the Mark Lane Underground, where they had lodged the timeslide. As they went underground for the last time in this period, Rhiow looked up into the dirty sky. There was no Moon there, tarnished or otherwise. Depending on whether or not they managed to track back the "seed" event of this chain, it might always wear those terrible scars. But at least now there was a good chance that the world would not.
"So what's next?" she said to Huff as they made their way down to the "derelict" platform.
"That book," he said. "Fhrio, think we'll be able to wring what we need out of the gate logs when we get back?"
"I feel certain of it," he said. "And with Siffha'h to power the gating, the way she's doing now, there shouldn't be anything that can interfere."
He sounded positively cheerful, Rhiow thought. She found herself wondering, a little ironically, whether this was because of how well the mission had gone, or whether it was because soon Urruah and Arhu would be leaving.
An unworthy thought. Never mind. It's all worked out nicely. How good it's going to be to get home to Iaehh, and let life go back to normal: our own gates to take care of, no commuting.
And Rhiow smiled at herself then. Entropy was not about to stop running. Almost certainly something would go wrong with one of their own gates as soon as they got home, something finicky and pointless that would take weeks to put right.
To her horror, the thought was delightful.
They came down to the dark and quiet of the platform, and Urruah woke up the timeslide: its wizardry blazed up into the familiar "hedge" around them as everyone took their appointed places. Rhiow looked around her as Siffha'h stepped into the power point and Fhrio hooked one claw into the wizardry. "Ready?" he said. "Anybody forget anything? Now's your last chance."
Tails were flirted no all around. "All right, Siffha'h," he said. "On standby..."
"Now!" she said: reared up, and came down.
The pressure came. Rhiow surrendered herself to it for a change, familiar as it was. For home was on the other side.
Nine
They came out into darkness: darkness so black that not even a Person's eyes could make anything of it.
For a few moments there was nothing but silence. Then Urruah said, "What in the Queen's name—?"
The timeslide wizardry collapsed around them, as if something had stomped it flat. All of them looked around them in shock.
"What is it?" asked Arhu. "Where's the light? What's gone wrong down here?"
"Nothing," said a soft voice from away off in the darkness. "But something is finally about to go right."
"Uh-oh," Arhu said, and fell very abruptly silent.
"Auhlae?" Huff said. He stepped forward carefully out of the circle: Rhiow could feel him brush past her. "Are you all right? What's happened down here?"
"Nothing that hasn't been promised for a long time," came the soft voice. Rhiow strained to hear it better. It was Auhlae... but it wasn't.
"What's the matter?" Huff said. "Has something gone wrong with the gates?"
Laughter came out of the dark. "That's always your first question, isn't it? No, of course not. The gates are fine."
"Oh... good." Huff stopped, unable to see where he was going. "Then maybe you can help us find our way out of here. It's kind of dark."
"Yes," said Auhlae... or something using Auhlae's voice. "A refreshing change, isn't it? This is the way it should always have been from the beginning. No garish stars, no dirty little life-infested planets, nothing but the cold and the night." And indeed it was feeling rather cold down here; much more so than it should have even in London in September. "And shortly this is what it will be like on Earth as well. Perhaps not this dark. But no Sun, no heat. Peace and quiet on this worthless little mudball at last."
A faint spark of light came up from behind them: Arhu making a light. Before them, away off in the darkness, they could see two blue eyes looking at them, gleaming green in the light Arhu made. Those eyes were farther away than it should have been possible for them to be, in a direction that should have been solid wall. And the sound of the place had gone all wrong. The close, underground feeling of it was gone: or rather, pushed back a long way... much farther than should have been possible, as if someone had scooped out a great cavern here to replace the tunnels.
"Auhlae," Rhiow said, feeling the fur stand up all over her at the look in those eyes. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"You," said the voice. "That you should ask. How very glad I am that you made it back. We have business to settle."
"What are you talking about?"
There was bitter laughter in the darkness. "You think I haven't noticed you trying to steal him from me? Poor simple Huff. He never was able to tell when someone was making a play for him."
Arhu's light was still dim, though Rhiow could feel him trying, vainly, to make it brighter. She could not see Huff clearly, or the look in his eyes. "Auhlae," Rhiow said, "you're completely mistaken. No one has ever had a better mate than Huff is to you, or a more faithful one. And as for me, what possible good would he do me even if I did want him? I'm spayed!"
The laughter again. "As if that matters," Auhlae snarled. "Do you think I'm such a fool as to think someone's affections can't be stolen without a uterus? How coy you were about
it. Oh so sweet and noble and intelligent, and then when that starts to work, then the weak little queen act, oh-dear-I've-fallen-and-I-can't-get-up... and all of a sudden Huff is washing your ears and whispering sweet nothings in them. There'll be precious little left of them to whisper in when I'm through."
Rhiow actually took a step backward in the blast of raw jealousy: it burned like a winter wind howling down Park Avenue.
You, she thought. The Lone Power always hated love, in whatever form. It would try to destroy it whenever It could, as sa'Rráhh had rebelled against her divine Dam's love in the beginning of things. That love was still waiting: but sa'Rráhh, for the most part, was unconcerned.
"It was you then," Rhiow said. "You were the one who let the first few microgatings through. You saw them, and you didn't do anything to stop them."
"I didn't see them!" the enraged voice yowled. "What kind of obsessive would read gating logs so carefully? Do you think I'm the kind of sad case you and your team are: do you think I don't have a life? By the time I noticed them, there had already been three or four. And I didn't think much of it. All gates have these sporadic faults; they go away if you don't try to micromanage them. But then it started happening regularly. The problem went chronic. Even then it still wouldn't really have been a problem: I could have explained it, we could have cleared it up. But then the Ravens noticed— what business was it of theirs?—and they told the Powers, and the Powers called you in. As if it was any of your business either! And after that, how could I let Huff see the gate logs, or let him know I knew anything about what had been going on? He wouldn't have understood why I didn't do anything sooner. You have no idea the kind of fuss he would make. And I couldn't let him know that I'd seen the earlier ones."
Huff was still standing there silent and astonished at all this. "So you tampered with the logs," Urruah said. "Right down to the end. And I thought I was an expert." He put his whiskers forward, ironic. "My compliments."
"You think you're such a great one, you," Auhlae sneered. The voice in the darkness was getting softer, more venomous: but the eyes seemed larger, somehow. "Urruah, the conqueror of every heart. I didn't want you!"
"I didn't want you," he said, rather mildly.
There was a breath's pause of sheer disbelief, and then a scream. "You did! You did! How could you not want me, when Huff did!"
"Auhlae," Rhiow said softly, "Huff didn't care whether other toms wanted you or not. He wanted you. That was more than enough for him. Don't you see that even now?"
"As if you know anything about him, or me," Auhlae hissed. "I know why you came. One failure and that's it, isn't it? And They were glad enough to give you an excuse to move in. No forgiveness from Their high and mighty quarter, oh no! They were all too glad for you to lever me out of my place with my team and take my spot. And take Huff. Well, it's not going to happen. I found help where I least expected it."
The eyes were larger. He will never find out, the voice said now, Auhlae's voice, but not quite so much anymore. Everything will be the way it was again. When all of you are dead, or gone, or lost in backtime... everything will be fine here.
"For a while, Auhlae," said Rhiow desperately. There may still be a chance to call her back, just a chance. "Only for a while. All you can imagine is you and Huff, happy together... no matter what the price. But sa'Rráhh will brook no rivals. Her only love is destruction, like the one she's planning now. You can still oust her if you try: she cannot live in the unwilling heart, any more than wizardry can."
The laughter from away down in the darkness was deafening.
Rhiow stood up straight, though she was shaking. "Fairest and Fallen," she said, "greeting and defiance, now and always!" It was the language the protocol required: there was no need to be rude to the Lone One, no matter what might follow. "State your intentions: and then beware, for we are on the Queen's errantry, and you meddle with Her worlds at your peril!"
Suddenly Fhrio's voice came out of the darkness, sounding confused and angry. "Now wait just a moment. You can't talk to Auhlae as if she was— as if— "
"I told you it'd happen." Arhu growled. "You're in the dark, Fhrio... and you don't see what's happening right in front of you. You haven't seen for a long time. Now it's your turn to behave yourself. Shut up and let someone handle this who can see!"
Fhrio, uncertain, went silent. The laughter came again. I meddle with the worlds as I please, said the Lone Power, said sa'Rráhh, out of the middle of the darkness and Auhlae's surrendered body. It is when others meddle that the peril begins. You have deprived Me of My darkness, long planned, and of the cold that would have fallen a hundred years ago. Very well: you have chosen. Instead that darkness shall fall now.
It was not so much that the blackness around them began to break: it was more that advancing toward the gating teams, slowly and pleasurably, was something that made the darkness look horribly less dark by comparison. There was fire in it, but not the kind that gave any light: and many sorts of night that had at one time or another fallen over London, but not the kind with stars. The smoke of the Great Fire was there, and the blackness of the Plague: the fire-shot smoke of the destruction that had fallen from the sky in the Second World War, and the eye-smarting thick, gray smoke from the burning thatch of the most ancient settlement by the already oxbowed river. But most of all Rhiow was reminded of the billowing blackness in the uprising mushroom cloud of an atomic explosion... and it occurred to her that, even now, there were atomic weapons stationed in a few places within the ring of the M25 in London. They were supposed to be safe at defense establishments, but when the Lone Power Itself was walking, how safe could anything be?
Slowly the dark shape stalked toward them. It was feline: it was sa'Rráhh indeed, in the fullness of Her fury, the mistress of the Unmastered Fire, intent on their destruction. And they were totally unprepared. Defiance indeed, Rhiow thought. What now?
The light from behind her was at least getting a little stronger. The Lone One's influence was damping down every other wizardly power but Its own as It advanced slowly on them, but Siffha'h's newfound strength had not yet settled into channels where even sa'Rráhh could easily muzzle them. She was feeding Arhu power, and Arhu was making light, if nothing else: and in that light, Rhiow looked over at Huff, and said, It's now or never, cousin. Do what you can—
He looked at Rhiow, and stepped forward. "Auhlae," Huff cried, "I don't want her! Do you hear me? I never wanted her. You're all I want. This is all for nothing. Cast it out, or everything we've worked for all this time will be destroyed!"
Rhiow was desperately trying to assemble wizardry after wizardry in her mind, but it was no use: they were all being damped, every structure collapsing as she began to build it— and sa'Rráhh drew closer, the terrible feline shape towering over them in the darkness now, the size of a house, growing seemingly bigger by the second, filling the whole field of vision with that deadly dark burning. "We've" worked for? Laughter again. It hasn't been worth anything anyway. When this is all over, the gates will be destroyed, and we won't have to do that kind of work anymore. We can settle down and just be wizards again.
Huff took a long breath. "I will not be the kind of wizard that serves what you serve," he cried, "and I will not be the mate to that kind of wizard either!"
And he launched himself straight at sa'Rráhh's throat.
One great paw lifted and slapped him aside as if he were nothing. Rhiow, flinching, heard the bones crack: saw the body fly past her to come down hard on the seamed concrete, which was all that was left of the real world.
Sa'Rráhh looked down at Huff's body, put her whiskers forward, and smiled...
... and the smile twisted strangely. The lips wrinkled. From inside the burning eyes above them, just for a moment, something that might have been Auhlae once looked out: enraged, betrayed. She screamed, a yowling roar that drove Rhiow crouching down to try to escape it, a terrible squall of betrayal and loss—— and then the light broke through.
; All around the huge terrible form, like a cage, a four-dimensional figure appeared, a massive icosaract, its "extra" sides unfolding out all around it. The Lone Power looked around it in first astonishment and then growing rage, and began to throw itself against the "bars" of the cage. The cage shook, but it held.
Sa'Rráhh roared. It will not avail you! The fire comes now, and then the Winter.
There will be no Winter, came another great voice— one that was, bizarrely, not one voice, but a union of many. This is the land of the Sun. We are the People of the Sun, and of our Mother Whose sigil the Sun is. By this spell worked, and this summons wrought, we ban the Winter, we ban the Unmastered Fire: we ban the One Who bears it!
Rhiow and the others stood still and stared as the stars began to fall.
At least they looked like stars at first. There had been none in the impenetrable darkness. But all around the struggling, roaring shape of sa'Rráhh, bright fires started to fall from far above. They fell in pairs. As they came to the ground, they started to acquire shapes of their own: bodies formed around them. Hundreds of bodies, thousands of bodies, tens of thousands of them, all shining each like its own small sun.
Rhiow stared in wonder. They were the People of the ancient days: the hundreds of thousands of cats of the Egyptians, who had mummified them and laid them to rest. Their souls had been in the Tree, or about the One's business, for all these thousands of years: their bodies had lain in the sand for a long long time. Now they were in the gardens of Essex and Sussex, they were under the lawns of the Home Counties, they were in flowerpots outside old townhouses and scattered among the roots of the trees in Green Park: they were all over the city of London, and all around it, for miles and miles in every direction. It did not matter that the mummies of the cats of Egypt had been ground to powder along with the bandages and the amulets that each held its fragment of the protective spell. They had been in contact with them too long, in their long rest in Egypt, not to have become indelibly contaminated by the wizardry. The Great Cemetery of the city of Bubastis was now in England. And its inhabitants remembered the ehhif they loved, who had fed them fish and milk, and stroked them, and loved them in return. They would not let these ehhif perish simply because they were not the same ones.