The Time Traveller, Smith Page 12

Part 6

  Laid out on a bench in the small room to which we had been brought was an outfit similar to K’s – a coverall of that strange glossy material called Pevecy. I picked up the immodest attire somewhat uncertainly, wondering whether or not I mayn’t prefer to remain in my ragged though familiar threads. The suit felt cool and slippery and altogether unusual against my fingers, but was at least whole and clean and weighed hardly an ounce in my hands.

  K turned herself and Conel away as I undressed. We spoke briefly and quietly over our backs.

  “You’re not scared of Beau Riche, are you?” I asked as I slipped my legs into the suit. The fabric felt, at first, unpleasantly damp, cloyingly tight as it stretched over my calves and thighs.

  “Of Beau Riche, no,” she said.

  “Because you are - what was it the Texian called you? Lady Kam-El-Ford? Your title offers you some protection.”

  I stretched the suit over my shoulders and slid my arms into it. Now the material evinced an altogether more pleasant sensation. Although clinging shamelessly to my body, it now warmed snug against my skin.

  “Camelford,” she corrected me. “No. Precisely the opposite in fact. If I were Lady Camelford, he would not pause but to have me crushed already. But as I am not Lady Camelford, because I am now merely K, that is what frightens him. That is why he will not dare lay a finger on me. At least not directly.”

  I must admit I did not follow her reasoning.

  “Ben Landon, however, he is quite a different kettle of rotten fish, Max, my dear. He’s not interested in the same parochial little empire building that so preoccupies Beau Riche and his ilk. Ben Landon sees the bigger picture. He would shape the whole world in his image. As I have learnt to my cost.”

  “Tha’s enough, noo,” Gordon’s muffled voice resonated from behind the closed door. “Tae minutes. Time t’ say ye goodbyes.”

  K turned to me grinning, but even I, certainly not the most observant man, could tell that grin disguised darker feelings. Her large brown eyes were filled with moist uncertainty. Was this grinning bravado for my benefit? If so, it was quite unnecessary. I was quite confident we could do the deed, despicable as it might be, and be back here in time for tea (if such a thing existed in this uncivilised present) and the timely plotting of our escape.

  “Now aren’t you flash!” She beamed with false cheer. “Quite deevie!”

  With a slide of her pinched fingers she secured the strange fastener running up the front of the suit with which, I must admit, I had been having some difficulty. She handed me a soft helmet made of the same glossy black material and pulled the same over her cropped red hair, still smiling wanly all the time.

  “I would speak with you, Mazvell,” wheezed Conel.

  I knelt down beside him. My strange suit allowed such freedom of movement that, if I had not just dressed myself, I would almost believe I was still naked. The thought made me blush.

  “There is not much for you to do now Maz. I have led Beau Riche to believe that The Eye must be finally primed immediately before it is used. But that is not the case. All you must do, when you have reached the designated area, is to release The Eye.”

  “And what happens then?”

  “Honestly, Maz?” He paused. “I do not know. The Eye, She brought me here, Maz. Maybe I was too old or too feeble, but She could not do Her will through me. So She waited. She bid me build the Everything Clock. But really, Maz, I believe that magnificent mechanism, my greatest work, to be nothing more than a folly, a way to bide Her time while She waited. And then She brought you here, Maz.

  “As a young man I sought The Eye across continents, sailing seas and oceans, crossing deserts, ice-fields and jungles, to possess that legendary jewel for myself. What a young fool I was! Did I have a choice even then?”

  He raised a shaking hand and brushed my cheek fondly with tremulous fingers.

  “And now She calls for you,” he said. “Farewell, Mazwell Smit.”

  He turned his face from me resolutely and lowered his eyes, shooing me from him with those same fingers that had just now been so tender. Then he beckoned K to him. For some moments they spoke between themselves in animated whispers, but of what they spoke I do not know.

  “Goodbye, Georgie,” she said finally, and lay her lips fondly on his forehead.