Child of Time Page 11

  ‘Progress!,’ hissed the Grand Master. ‘ I expect more than that: I expect results! You know what is at stake here. We have been planning toward this night for centuries!’

  The Surgeon visibly squirmed. ‘I realise that, Grand Master, but...’

  ‘No excuses!’ the Grand Master roared. ‘We must have our most adept time channellers and time sensitives ready for the summoning, with their abilities boosted to the highest possible level.’

  ‘But these are just children, Grand Master. They are wilful, difficult to control. If we presented adult subjects...’

  ‘No! We need to show the full extent of our achievements. You know as well as I do that it is the children who are the most gifted.’

  ‘That is so, Grand Master, and we have identified six who may be suitable, but –’

  The Grand Master fixed the Surgeon with a steely glare. ‘I do not wish to hear that word. If you cannot do what is required, then there are others here who surely can!’

  The robed figure closed his eyes and Emily saw his lips move in silent incantation. There was a sudden gust of wind in the enclosed cellar and a sound like a large piece of stone being dragged across the floor. Emily’s mouth dropped open as one of those hideous gargoyle creatures suddenly hefted itself from a corner and lumbered to where the Grand Master was standing. The Surgeon went as white as a sheet and started to back away as the stone behemoth approached. When the creature was but a pace away, the Grand Master’s eyes shot open, and he glared at the Surgeon.

  ‘See what we are already capable of! If our work finds favour at the summoning, we shall be granted all power! Obey us and you shall share in that power. Fail us and you shall know what our disappointment feels like.’

  The Surgeon nodded enthusiastically. ‘Never fear, my lord, we shall have the children ready.’

  ‘Good,’ rumbled the Grand Master in a voice like syrup. ‘I do not need any further complications, today of all days... All must be ready for the summoning.’

  Emily screwed her eyes tightly closed, her mind a confusion of jumbled thoughts and memories: scenes of blood, death and horror; helpless children being subjected to horrible torture; herself looking on, smiling, as if in a terrible nightmare; and a cacophony of voices, all talking of the Child of Time... always the Child of Time Was she, Emily, the ultimate product of all the torture and suffering that was being inflicted here on the children and babies of Venice and elsewhere through time?

  Emily shook her head. Maybe she was this unique individual, escaped from the future, memory wiped, and now working against everything she was created to achieve. Her head pounded and she knuckled her temples to try to silence the throbbing. Was she the Child of Time?

  4

  Honoré and Maria were dressed in their borrowed outfits, and wearing their stolen masks; Honoré’s a deep scarlet, Maria’s jet black. They entered the Palazzo with no problems at all, strolling together past the attendants on the main doors and into a large ballroom where the guests were thronging in tense expectation. The room was magnificent, with baroque carvings and ornate plasterwork in abundance. Around the perimeter on three sides ran a balcony, with yet more elaborately-carved figures supporting the balustrade. Heavy scarlet brocade curtains hung at intervals to screen the private recesses above from the rest of the room; they were tied back with thick tassels and afforded a degree of privacy that Honoré suspected he might need later.

  Finely-dressed servants passed around goblets of what tasted like expensive wine, and on a raised dais at the end of the room, a string quartet was playing soft music. Honoré couldn’t believe that this was to be the scene of some kind of demonic summoning – it seemed all too refined, too elegantly sophisticated. The women were all dressed in splendid gowns, with hair piled high – or were they wearing elaborate wigs? – and he could smell pomade and powder.

  ‘Keep your eyes open,’ hissed Maria as they paused at the entrance to the ballroom.

  ‘I intend to.’ He was studying the other guests intently. Although they all had their faces partially covered by the gruesome devil masks, which had presumably been distributed to them prior to their arrival, he could see that there were several other Black men – even a couple of Orientals – among the predominantly Caucasian crowd, and that some of the men had beards and moustaches. He didn’t think he’d stand out, unless anyone got too close and realised that he was probably the only man here who’d bathed in the last week.

  They made their way slowly through the throng of people, Maria holding Honoré’s arm as though he was her consort. They tried to eavesdrop as they went, without being too conspicuous about it, and Honoré soon realised that he was able to mentally filter out all the trivia – comments about the Palazzo, the wine, the weather and suchlike – and focus on the really interesting stuff, about the Sodality and the summoning. People spoke in a wide variety of different accents and dialects, and presumably different languages too, but he found that, as always when he travelled to other times and places with Emily, he was somehow able to understand what was being said, as if everyone was conversing in English.

  ‘It’s the form it has always been... the form the Devil wishes to take at this point... we should not question it, just believe in it.’

  ‘... the Child of Time...’

  ‘... reward? Why the reward for the Beast is the channellers and sensitives... they have been created by The Sodality for this purpose...’

  ‘... our noble birthright...’

  ‘... power... power beyond all imagining, and with that power he shall create the Child of Time...’

  ‘Isn’t the Child needed for this Summoning then?’

  ‘Not as far as I know... now... about the children... how many do you think will be presented?’

  ‘... Child of Time...’

  After about half an hour, reasoning that they had learned as much as they were likely to from these overheard snatches of increasingly excited conversation, Honoré steered Maria over to an empty alcove to one side of the room, pausing only briefly on the way so that they could both help themselves to some morsels of food from a row of silver platters arrayed along a nearby table.

  ‘So, what have we figured out so far?’ asked Maria, licking her fingers surreptitiously.

  ‘It’s hard to make sense of it all,’ admitted Honoré, stroking his beard thoughtfully. ‘They all seem to be convinced that, come midnight, the Devil’s going to be making an appearance.’

  ‘Who knows, maybe he will?’

  Honoré snorted sceptically. ‘You don’t really believe that, do you? No, I think all that Devil stuff is just window dressing. They’re being whipped up into a state of excitement for some reason. Maybe it has something to do with this Child of Time.’

  ‘Child of Time....’ mused Maria. ‘What does that mean, do you suppose?’

  ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘I was picking up mixed messages. Some of the guests seem to think she’s here already, others that she’s something the Sodality is desperate to find. One guy seemed to be saying that’s why the Grand Master needs the Devil’s power... Whatever that is, and whoever she is, I guess we won’t have too long to wait now to find out.’

  Emily was still hiding in the basement area of the Palazzo. After the Grand Master had left, the Surgeon had called his fellows together in the cellar below, and they were now holding an impromptu conference. Emily was too far away to follow all the ins and outs of this, but it seemed that the six children strapped to the tables were being prepared for something, and were to be moved out very shortly.

  Emily!

  It was Violet again. In her mind.

  Don’t give up, Emily. We need you.

  Reproaching herself for having allowed the events below to distract her, Emily crept silently across to the door in the far wall and through into the corridor beyond. There she found another door, set into the opposite wall. It wasn’t l
ocked, and she pushed it open gently. This was where Violet was – she could feel her presence here as clearly as if she could see the girl. The sounds of dripping water echoed around the dark room, as did the stirrings of what were probably rats. Emily shuddered and hoped that she didn’t have to meet any more four-legged creatures.

  ‘Emily?’ A real voice this time, cracked and tired, but the owner was the same.

  She carefully crossed the room to a set of bars extending from floor to ceiling at the far end. ‘Violet,’ Emily whispered. ‘Is that you?’

  There was a shifting beyond the bars and a small girl emerged from the gloom and stood looking at Emily. It was Violet – the Violet she had met in 1950 as one of a group of uniquely talented individuals living together as a sort of superhuman colony, trying to avoid detection by the authorities or the Sodality, who wanted them for their own purposes. Violet had been one of the most gifted of the group – a child of around 17, but who seemed much younger, with abilities that ordinary humans could only guess at and that she herself had yet to fully grasp. Certainly she could affect human perception. When Emily had last seen her, she had been working with the other children to combine their powers, escape to other times and places... and Emily had hoped at the time that the one thing they would find was happiness.

  And yet here was Violet. Pale and bedraggled. And apparently a prisoner.

  ‘What happened to you? Why are you here?’

  Violet shrugged, her patchy brown hair barely covering the scalp of her oversized head. ‘We were caught after about six months. We tried to get away but the people the Sodality sent after us were able to use some sort of mental power against us – psionic science, they called it – and against that we had no defence.’ The girl hesitated, scratching herself absently. ‘They finally trapped us here, in Venice, in this time, and threw barriers around us so that we couldn’t escape. We must have been here for about a year now, kept apart from each other in separate cells along this corridor. We thought all hope was lost. But then I somehow sensed that there was a familiar mind present, and today you finally came close enough for me to contact you.’

  Emily looked into Violet’s tired eyes, one bright blue and the other a vivid violet, and reached out a hand toward her.

  ‘Don’t touch the bars!’ the girl cried, but too late. Emily’s hand brushed against the metal and she felt a violent shock run up her arm, as if she had been electrocuted. She snatched her hand back and cradled it in the other as it continued to tingle painfully.

  ‘What was that? Have they electrified the bars?’ That seemed an absurd idea here in the 16th Century, until Emily remembered the mish-mash of anachronistic technology she had seen in the cellar area.

  ‘No. That was psionic energy. They have raised barriers to keep us. We cannot penetrate them – and believe me, we have tried.’

  ‘How many of you are there here?’

  ‘Just the three of us now. Me, Jimmie and Freia. Percival managed to escape, but he’s lost somewhere in the time streams. There were two others with us as well, but they were taken away ages ago for further experimentation and never came back. We could hear the screams from our cells... We may be powerless, but we’re not deaf...’

  ‘I have to get you out,’ said Emily. ‘I have an idea.’

  Without pausing to catch breath, she strode out of the room, across the corridor, back into the basement area she had hidden in earlier and, making no attempt whatsoever to hide her presence, down the staircase into the cellar area below. The Surgeon was there, along with the other medical attendants. They were helping one of the girls down off her operating table. The other five tables were already empty.

  ‘Attend me!’ she called, in as imperious a fashion as she could.

  The men looked up, and the Surgeon’s eyes opened wide. He spoke quickly to the others and they carried on manoeuvring the girl from the table and out of the room while the Surgeon hurried over to Emily.

  ‘My lady... I had no idea you were here... Should you not be preparing for the ceremony?’

  ‘I shall be. But first, I need your assistance. Follow me!’ She turned and stalked back up the staircase, breathing a silent sigh of relief. It had been an idea born out of sheer desperation, but somehow it had worked. Whoever the Grand Master had mistaken her for earlier – presumably some senior Sodality official – it seemed that the Surgeon was now under the same misapprehension.

  She led the man to the corridor along which the cells were arrayed, then gestured to the doors. ‘The three young prisoners. I wish to see them properly. Bring them out here.’

  The Surgeon fidgeted awkwardly. ‘But, my lady, these prisoners have special mental powers. We have to keep them separate and confined –’

  Emily fixed him with her most baleful glare, although secretly she was having to suppress a smile as she saw the effect she was having on the man. The poor chap. He was terrified out of his wits!

  She enunciated every word very clearly: ‘I know what I am doing, Surgeon. Bring them out here now!’

  The man nodded and, with something of a whimper, crossed to where an old and grimy wooden box was affixed to the wall. He opened it with a key from his belt and pulled out a sheet of parchment. He looked at Emily.

  ‘I just need to say the incantation here and the barriers will be removed. Are you sure, my lady?’

  Emily nodded once. Short and sharp.

  With a resigned sigh, the Surgeon held up the parchment and studied it for a moment, his lips moving as he worked out the details of the incantation. Then he started to speak in a language that made no sense at all to Emily; it sounded jumbled and backwards somehow.

  The incantation was short, and almost as soon as the Surgeon had completed it, his eyes closed and he collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.

  Immediately Emily pulled open the door leading to Violet’s cell and went through.

  ‘The power has gone,’ the girl said. ‘I have sent that man to sleep. He’ll come to no harm – at least, not by my hand.’ She was standing close to the bars now, one hand touching them, proving that the psionic barrier was no more. ‘Now we must get out of here... Stand back.’

  Violet placed her hand over the lock of the cage and closed her eyes. There was a gentle click and the door swung slowly open.

  ‘Impressive... When did you learn that trick?’ Emily pulled the door open wider and helped Violet out, scared by how tiny and fragile she seemed, her bones seemingly having less substance than those of a bird.

  They quickly moved to the two adjacent rooms in turn, and Violet repeated her trick to release Jimmie and Freia from their cells. Jimmie was, like Violet, a telepath, and a mathematical and musical genius. He was perhaps the same age as Violet, a tall, skinny boy with a ruffled shock of brown hair. Freia was a little thing, only six years old, but with the face of an angel. She was also a powerful time sensitive. Now, though, she was so weak that Emily had to scoop her up in her arms and carry her.

  Once they were back in the light of the corridor, Emily paused to catch her breath and take stock. So far, so good. Now all they had to do was get out of the Palazzo...

  Outside the Palazzo, darkness had fallen, and Honoré and Maria both felt a wave of excited anticipation spread through the ballroom.

  Honoré took Maria’s arm and steered her to the staircase and up to the balcony overlooking the main floor. There were fewer people up above and he managed to find a position behind one of the heavy curtains, half-hidden in a secluded recess.

  A sudden hush fell over the room. He looked down to see that the musicians and waiters were being ushered out, while the guests were turning expectantly toward a set of closed double doors at one end. All the other doors out of the room were pulled shut too, and the tension rose noticeably.

  The double doors opened and a short procession of people entered. At the head was a man holding a large bound book, carryi
ng it in front of him, reverently, as if it were a priceless work of art. Following behind was a taller man, dressed in black and with a purple robe wrapped around him. On his head he wore an elaborate goat-skull mask that covered his eyes, but Honoré could see that his cheeks and chin were scarred with runes. Like Maria’s. Thirdly came a woman, short in stature, dressed in a loose tunic in a deep red colour. She too was wearing a goat-skull mask; it covered her face entirely, but her long, dark hair spilled out around her shoulders. Lastly, bringing up the rear, was another man. He bore a large golden chalice, which glinted and sparkled in the candlelight.

  The four people took up positions in front of the crowd, and the tall man stepped forward.

  ‘My friends,’ he began in a voice rich, deep and compelling. ‘We have waited long for this day, but now the wait is over.’

  An excited buzz went around the crowd as the man continued. ‘You know that I, your Grand Master, together with my Chancellor –’ he gestured to the woman standing beside him ‘– have been working tirelessly to bring the Sodality the power we deserve. The power to shape matter, to fold time and to create a world where we can bring peace and prosperity to all.’

  Honoré leaned forward and whispered in Maria’s ear, ‘That’s what they all say...’

  The Grand Master continued speaking, warming to his subject. ‘For today, my friends, today we shall achieve what we once thought impossible. We shall summon one of our benefactors. But before we do this, is there anyone here who has doubts? Anyone who is not totally committed to our cause? For if there is, speak now, and you shall be permitted to leave.’

  He cast his eyes over the assembled crowd, who were silent with anticipation.

  ‘No-one?’ The Grand Master’s eyes scanned the people. ‘Not even you... my Lord Ramusio?’

  At this, one of the men in the crowd started back. The people around him moved aside, and he was pushed forward.

  ‘My Lord?’ stammered Ramusio. ‘I... I have done nothing... I... I am totally committed... I...’