City of Time (23 page)

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"What ... what do I do?" Owen said.

Whom are you talking to?
the king demanded. Evidently he could not see the Sub-Commandant.

"Destroy the Puissance!" the Sub-Commandant said. "Now!"

"But what about you?"

"The message I left you in the Den took all my strength. I am trapped forever. If you destroy the Puissance, then you release me--"

"Release?"

"I will die."

The maps!
The king's voice rose to a shriek.
Where are the maps?

"Now
, Owen," the Sub-Commandant said, and this time his voice was warm. "Concentrate on the Mortmain. Let your mind enter it."

Owen knew he must destroy the Puissance. He thought of Cati. She would never forgive him. ...

"Cati knows what duty is, Owen," the Sub-Commandant said, his voice full of sadness. "This is your duty and your burden. Do it now and tell Cati--"

"No!"
Owen felt the Harsh king reaching into his mind. He had seconds to act. He bent his mind to the spinning Mortmain, felt the golden light as if it reflected from within him. He turned it toward the Puissance in the king's hand. The Sub-Commandant's face faded and the blackness of the whirlwind deepened. In the inky dark, Owen could see jagged flashes of lightning.

What are you doing?
the king demanded. Owen felt
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searing pain, as if a hand of ice had taken his head in a deadly grip. The Puissance began to falter, oscillating in the king's hand. Ignoring the pain, Owen redoubled his efforts. The Puissance was a cone of crackling blue fire. Owen felt as if shards of ice were exploding in his brain. The king was on his feet now, his will entirely bent on the boy in front of him.

From a great distance Owen heard the Sub-Commandant's voice. "Thank you. Hold Cati for me ... tell her everything ..."

The Puissance began to disintegrate. Owen could feel the king's fear now, and his vengeance. He sensed rather than saw the Puissance falter and its remnants explode, then heard a shriek of rage and despair from the king.

It's done
, Owen thought.
It's all over
. And a feeling of calm came over him. He looked up and saw the frozen tapestry hanging on the wall behind the king. For the first time he could see what was depicted on it, a scene from a time when the Harsh did not rule Hadima. Above the City, a great sail billowed out from a small craft and a figure stood at the helm.

The
Wayfarer
!
Owen thought, before the cold overcame him and he fell to the floor.

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Chapter 28

Cati crept cautiously toward the place where the Specials had attacked the Dogs. As she approached, she could smell blood and fear and confusion, but she couldn't smell the Specials. There were old odors of sweat and tobacco and unwashed bodies, but no fresh scent. Standing upright, she walked slowly into the tunnel. It was empty, apart from discarded cudgels and pieces of torn clothing, but the smells of the battle were still overwhelming.

She had left the others in a small tunnel under the charge of Mo. She had tried to tend to their injuries as best she could. Some of the younger ones were in a state of shock, but Mo, despite her injured arm, moved among them, calming everyone. When Cati left, Mo

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was telling a story about chasing rabbits through sunny, wind-tossed fields, and they were licking at their cuts and bruises.

Cati sniffed the ground. Try as she might, she couldn't find the place where Clancy had fallen. She went up and down the tunnel. It could only mean one thing: they had killed him. She sat down, exhausted. Clancy was lost. All packs needed a leader, but few were as brave and resourceful and easy to follow as Clancy. She remembered above all how he had flung himself into combat with the Specials, knowing he had no chance of beating them, but sacrificing himself so that the rest could be saved. She felt a tear run down her face and fall to the ground.

Cati stood there for a long time, unaware now of the scents of battle, lost in grief, her body wounded first by the Harsh, then by Dog gashes that had somehow awakened the instincts of the Dogs in her.

I can't be the Watcher
, she thought.
I'm not strong enough
. She remembered how her father had been strong and equal to every situation. And then, as if he was there beside her, she seemed to hear his voice.

Do you think I was always like this? You have to use the gifts you are given. And even the injuries dealt by others can bring gifts
.

She was startled. What could it mean? The cold that stayed with her always--that was from the Harsh, and was hardly a gift. But the Dogs ... she could smell a

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hundred times better than before. Was that the only gift? Of course not! There was that instinctive understanding that she had developed with the pack ...

She shut her eyes. She could feel Mo and the part of the pack that was with her. They were calm now, waiting for Cati to come back. And she could feel Patchie and his followers as well, an angry, gnawing sensation that made her flinch. And then, in the middle of it, a fluttering feeling as if someone was drifting in and out of consciousness. Nearby too! She paced up and down the tunnel but couldn't locate the source of the feeling.

Your ears
, she thought,
use your ears as well
. She closed her eyes again. She could hear a rat trotting busily along a pipe. She could hear an insect rubbing its forefeet together in the brickwork above her head. She could hear a mole tunneling in the earth. And then ... shallow breathing, the way an animal in pain might breathe.

It was very near. She opened her eyes and saw a small opening close to the ground, a drainpipe of some kind, the opening almost too small for someone to crawl into. The breathing was coming from there. She lay down and peered in, but could see nothing. Hesitantly she reached her hand into the darkness ... and felt a foot. She took her hand out. It was slick with blood. She put her mouth to the entrance.

"Clancy! Clancy!" Something stirred in the dark. With difficulty she got her head and shoulders in, and took hold of the foot.

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"Clancy," she said, "I'm going to try to pull you out."

This time there was no response. It was hard to get a proper grip, and the pipe was slippery, but eventually his body started to move. Clancy's skin was cold to the touch. She realized that there was freezing water in the bottom of the drain and he had been lying in it.

"Come on, Clancy," she said. "You're going to be all right." With one last effort she pulled him from the drain.

At first she thought he wasn't breathing. His dog mask was gone. His face was white and his lips were blue with cold. His body was covered in bruises and gashes. Cati put her ear to his chest. There was a heartbeat, but it was faint. She looked around for something to warm him, but there was nothing. So she wrapped her legs and arms around him and held him as tightly as she could, rubbing his hands and feet, talking to him as if she could call him back from the cold depths. She told him about everything that had happened to her, about Owen and the Mortmain, about her father and how she had been caught by the Harsh breath. She told him about being the Watcher and the loneliness, and how they had traveled to the City to see if they could find time that would save their world.

She realized with a start that his eyes were open. And she knew that he had heard every word she had said. She looked into his eyes and could feel what had happened to him. How, in a moment's confusion, he had

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got away from the Specials and crawled into the drain. They had poked sticks at him for a while, then decided he was dead and left him. He had lain there, too battered and bleeding to move. He never would have made it out if Cati had not come back.

Cati looked around and saw Mo and some of the others. They crept forward.

"We thought he was dead," Mo said, "then we felt you with him."

The Dogs moved forward and surrounded Clancy.

"I thought you was dead and all," came a new voice.

Rosie!
Cati thought, but found she could not speak the word out loud.

Rosie stepped forward from among the Dogs, covered in tunnel dirt but looking proud. "I met this lot in the tunnels. They took me along. No choice, really."

"Cati!"
The voice was low, but all the Dogs turned, then slowly parted. Clancy was looking at her now, dark eyes in a boy's face, pale and exhausted. He reached to his neck and drew out a small bottle on a chain. He held it out to her.

"Antidote," he said. "Take it. Drink."

"An antidote to the dog poison in you. Take it!" Rosie said.

Cati hesitated.

"Go on," Rosie said, "unless you want to spend the rest of your life sniffing lampposts."

Cati took the bottle and put it to her mouth. The liquid inside was sour and burning, and she grimaced as

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she drank. But almost immediately there was a change. She looked down at herself.

"That smell ...," she said. "That's me! I need a bath!"

Rosie burst out laughing. "Glad to have you back, girl."

Cati went over to Clancy, knelt beside him, and took his pale, sharp-nailed hand in her own. Their eyes met and no one could tell if what flowed between them was Dog or human.

"He'll be all right," Mo said gently. "The Dogs look after their own. But it's time for you to go. You don't belong here now."

Cati felt gentle Dog hands lift her to her feet. And though her voice had come back she did not speak again until they reached the open air. Part of her would always be Dog, she knew.

It was cold and dark in Bourse Square. A tall figure carrying a rucksack moved from shadow to shadow, avoiding the Special patrols. In the entrance of the Bourse itself, the figure stopped. Dr. Diamond took the rucksack from his shoulders and made some adjustments to its steel frame. Then he put it back on. He touched a button on the frame and two jets of pale blue flame shot from the ends. He took a homemade remote control from his pocket, then slowly and silently rose into the air.

Once he was at rooftop level, he turned toward the

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citadel, resembling some strange spindly night bird as he flew between the chimneys and rooftops. On he flew, frost gathering in his eyebrows and hair, until he saw what he was looking for: a high window in a tall tower from which a cold white light emanated. Higher and higher he went until he reached the tower. He flew silently over the head of a Special guard standing outside a heavily barred door. There was a barred opening at ground level. Dr. Diamond landed lightly and pressed his face to it.

The first thing he saw was a pair of boots. He followed them upward until he saw two gloved hands.
Headley
, he said to himself. As he watched, Headley turned to an unseen guard.

"Throw the prisoner in the dungeon. He won't last the night."

Owen! I have to hurry!
Dr. Diamond thought. He rose into the air again and flew up and up, winding around the tower until he reached the cold window at the top.

He approached with great caution. The cold was different now; his clothes were crackling and freezing as he got nearer. He edged closer until his face was almost against the windowpane. With one hand he scraped an opening in the frost. It was frozen solid and hard to clear, but a small patch was all he needed. He saw a room that seemed to be made from ice, and in the middle, on a cold throne, was the terrifying figure of the Harsh king, whose eyes were cold and black and empty.

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Dr. Diamond had suspected this from the moment they had arrived at the City. And then he saw something that disturbed him even more. On the ground in front of the Harsh king was Gobillard's trunk, and in front of it lay the Mortmain!

The doctor stared intently at the Harsh king. The eyes were glassy, but not from the cold. The king was dead! Owen! It had to have been Owen! No one else had the strength to defeat a Harsh king. The boy had defeated him, but what price had he paid?

Dr. Diamond reached into his overalls and took out tools. Within seconds he had the window open. Struggling with the cumbersome rucksack, he slipped into the room. The cold was unbearable, searing his lungs when he breathed, crystals of ice forming at his nostrils and mouth. Under the king's frigid gaze, he grabbed the Mortmain. It was dull and curiously warm in the freezing room, and glittered when he touched it.

He shoved it inside his overalls and climbed over the windowsill again, closing the window behind him. The blue jets were lit again, pale lights against a black sky, as Dr. Diamond flew silently away.

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Chapter 29

As Rosie and Cati walked back, Rosie told Cati about the Museum of Time and the Yeati. She told her how the Yeati had cured her hands. Cati stared at them in disbelief. Rosie told her how beautiful he was, despite his missing paw and the filth of the cage. The two girls fell silent, then turned to each other and exclaimed at the same moment, "We have to rescue him!" and "I can't bear the idea of him locked up like that."

"How do we get him away?" Rosie wondered.

"The truck."

"Mrs. Newell will have kittens if we arrive back with a Yeati," Rosie said, but there was a grin on her face.

"Let her. Wild things shouldn't be caged."

Ten minutes later they were standing in Cyanite Place. Icicles hung from branches and eaves. They