The River of No Return

like some dog.” He pushed his cuff back and held out his wrist, white as a bone and sprinkled with black hairs. It was laced across with an ugly, ropy scar. “I bear this scar to show for that day, and he would have cut my face if I hadn’t buried it in the dust. He branded me, like a damned convict. And you, you stood beside him, and when it was all over you said, clear as a bell, ‘You be good, Cousin Eamon, or Grandfather will freeze you in time again.’ The old man tried to hush you but it was too late. The secret was out, and I could see in his face, even as I groveled there in the dust, that you had spoken an incredible truth.”
    Julia closed her eyes. It was her fault. No wonder Grandfather had drilled her in secrecy after that. She sighed and opened her eyes again. “Be that as it may, Cousin, Grandfather is dead now. His talent died with him.”
    Eamon traced his finger along the edge of the desk. “Ah, but did it?”
    “Of course it did.”
    Eamon traced his finger back. “I’m not so sure, kitten. After that interesting afternoon I demanded that he tell me how he stopped time. He must have felt shame at his treatment of me, I think, for he revealed it was a power he gained from an instrument of some kind. He called it a talisman.” Eamon spoke dreamily, watching his finger as it stroked the desk. He looked up at Julia. “What is the talisman, Julia?”
    “I have no idea,” Julia said. Nor had she. She had never heard Grandfather mention a talisman, not once.
    Eamon narrowed his eyes and searched her face. “It must be an ancient or a strange object, one of these stones of his perhaps. Something that carries a spell locked up inside. I spent years trying to get it out of him. Again and again I pressed him for the information. But he never told me, damn him. I even thought that maybe he had lost it since that day that he whipped me. But you have just told me differently, with your tale of that housemaid’s apron.”
    So she had already told Eamon more than he had known. She had to gather her wits, and fast. Eamon believed there was more to the secret, and perhaps there was. But a talisman? Julia didn’t believe it. Grandfather’s talent had been vital, a part of his body, his spirit. It didn’t rely on some trinket. He must have spun Eamon a yarn about a talisman in order to lay a false trail. Keep him from the truth. Whatever that was. If only Grandfather had trusted her with more information—or told her nothing at all. Other people played spillikins or fox and geese with their granddaughters. Would that he had amused her that way and kept his time games to himself.
    She looked up to find Eamon watching her. “You have been informative this morning,” he said. “I told you that you could keep no secrets from me. Now.” He leaned forward over the desk. “Sit down, Julia. No more balking. You started to tell me the secret when you were four years old. Now you are going to finish what you began. You are going to tell me what your grandfather’s talisman is, where he has it hidden, and how to use it.”
    “And if I cannot?”
    “Oh, but you can and you will, kitten, I am sure of it.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    T he huge jet plane overflew London, banked through 180 degrees, and followed the Thames. In the early-morning light Nick could see the Isle of Dogs sparkling with tall glass buildings, the New Globe, St. Paul’s scrubbed clean and white, the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, Battersea Power Station. He traced out the river’s ancient, familiar shape through all the new developments, Kensington, Wimbledon, the gargantuan sprawl of the City. He was returning to England, breaking a cardinal rule of the Guild at the express command of Alderwoman Gacoki herself. He had with him a few changes of clothes, a blue U.S. passport, and tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket, his Summons Direct. He didn’t intend to stay long.
    The Alderwoman was waiting in arrivals with Arkady Altukhov, her enigmatic and seldom-seen husband.
    “This is an honor, Alderwoman Gacoki,” Nick said as he took Alice’s cool fingers in his own. He had last shaken her hand at the fish market in Santiago. Leo had been beside him. He felt a brief sensation of falling backward. It had been almost ten years. Where was his brilliant, uncompromising Pocumtuk friend now? What would he look like, at thirty? Or was he dead? Nick let himself remember that last night, fighting in the car. Nick had been a stubborn