Thief of Time

of raw matter was curiously disquieting when you were currently inhabiting a similar one. It was one of those times when the stomach did the thinking, and thought it wanted to throw up.
    Six figures took shape, blinked, and opened their eyes. Three of the figures were male, three were female. They were dressed in human-sized equivalents of the Auditors’ robes.
    The remaining Auditors drew back, but one said: They will accompany you to the clockmaker, and matters will be resolved today. They will not eat or breathe.
    Hah! thought one of the little voices that made up Lady LeJean’s thinking.
    One of the figures whimpered.
    “The body will breathe,” said her ladyship. “You will not persuade it that air is not required.”
    She was aware of the choking noises.
    “You are thinking, yes, we can exchange necessary materials with the outside world, and this is true,” she went on. “But the body does not know that. It thinks it is dying. Let it breathe.”
    There was a series of gasps.
    “And you will feel better shortly,” said her ladyship, and was enthralled to hear the inner voice think: These are your jailers, and you are already stronger than them.
    One of the figures felt its face with a clumsy hand and, panting, said: “Whom do you speak to with your mouth?”
    “You,” said Lady LeJean.
    “Us?”
    “This will take some explaining—”
    “No,” said the Auditor. “Danger lies that way. We believe the body imposes a method of thought on the brain. No blame attaches. It is a…malfunction. We will accompany you to the clockmaker. We will do this now.”
    “Not in those clothes,” said Lady LeJean. “You will frighten him. It may lead to irrational actions.”
    There was a moment of silence. The Auditors-made-flesh looked hopelessly at one another.
    “You have to talk with your mouth,” Lady LeJean prompted. “The minds stay inside the head.”
    One said, “What is wrong with these clothes? It is a simple shape found in many human cultures.”
    Lady LeJean walked to the window.
    “See the people down there?” she said. “You must dress in appropriate city fashions.”
    Reluctantly, the Auditors did so, and while they retained the grayness, they did give themselves clothes that would pass unnoticed in the street. Up to a point, anyway.
    “Only those of female appearance should wear dresses,” Lady LeJean pointed out.
    A hovering gray shape said, Warning. Danger. The one calling itself Lady LeJean may give unsafe advice. Warning.
    “Understood,” said one of the incarnate ones. “We know the way. We will lead.”
    It walked into the door.
    The Auditors clustered around the door for a while, and then one of them glared at Lady LeJean, who smiled.
    “Doorknob,” she said.
    The Auditor turned back to the door, stared at the brass knob, and then looked the door up and down. It dissolved into dust.
    “Doorknob was simpler,” said Lady LeJean.
    Tick
    There were big mountains around the Hub. But the ones towering above the temple didn’t all have names, because there was simply too many of them. Only gods have enough time to name all the pebbles on a beach, but gods don’t have the patience.
    Copperhead was small enough to be big enough to have a name. Lobsang awoke and saw its crooked peak, towering above the lesser local mountains, outlined against the sunrise.
    Sometimes the gods have no taste at all. They allow sunrises and sunsets in ridiculous pink and blue hues that any professional artist would dismiss as the work of some enthusiastic amateur who’d never looked at a real sunset. This was one of those sunrises. It was the kind of sunrise a man rises and looks at and says, “No real sunrise could paint the sky Surgical Appliance Pink.”
    Nevertheless, it was beautiful. *
    He was half-covered in a pile of dry bracken. There was no sign of the yeti.
    It was springtime here. There was still snow, but there was the occasional patch of bare soil and a hint of green. Lobsang stared around and saw leaves in bud.
    Lu-Tze was standing some way off, staring up into a tree. He didn’t turn his head as Lobsang approached.
    “Where’s the yeti?”
    “He wouldn’t go further than this. Can’t ask a yeti to leave snow,” whispered Lu-Tze.
    “Oh,” whispered Lobsang. “Er…why are we whispering?”
    “Look at the bird.”
    It was perched on a branch by a fork in the tree, next to what looked like a birdhouse, and nibbling at a piece of roughly round wood it held in one