Thief of Time

she said casually. “Ronnie’s been around, has he?”
    “Ronnie?”
    “Oh, we all know Ronnie.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “Let’s just say if he found your friend then your friend is going to be okay. Probably okay. More okay that he would be if just about anything else found him, at least. Look, this is not a time when you should be worrying about one person. Cold calculation, right?”
    She stepped out into the street. Lobsang followed. Susan walked as if she owned the street. She scanned every alley and doorway, but not like a potential victim apprehensive of attackers. It seemed to Lobsang that she was disappointed to find nothing dangerous in the shadows.
    Susan reached the shop, and stepped inside, pausing for a moment to regard the floating flower of broken glass in the shop. Her expression suggested that she considered it to be a perfectly normal kind of thing to find, and had seen far more interesting things. Then she walked on and stopped at the inner door. There was still a glow from the crack, but it was dimmer now.
    “Settling down,” she said. “Shouldn’t be too bad…but there’s two people in here.”
    “Who?”
    “Wait, I’ll open the door. And be careful.”
    The door moved very slowly. Lobsang stepped into the workshop after the girl. The spinner began to speed up.
    The clock glowed in the middle of the floor, painful to look at.
    But he stared, nevertheless. “It’s…it’s just as I imagined it,” he said. “It’s the way to—”
    “Don’t go near it,” said Susan. “It’s uncertain death, believe me. Do pay attention.”
    Lobsang blinked.
    “What did you say?”
    “I said it’s uncertain death.”
    “Is that worse than certain death?”
    “Much. Watch.” Susan picked up a hammer that was lying on the floor and poked it gently toward the clock. It vibrated in her hand when she brought it closer, and she swore under her breath as it was dragged from her fingers and vanished. Just before it did, there was a brief, contracting ring around the clock that might have been something like a hammer would be if you rolled it very flat and bent it into a circle.
    “Have you any idea why that happened?” she said.
    “No.”
    “Nor have I. Now imagine that you were the hammer. Uncertain death, see?”
    Lobsang looked at the two frozen people. One was medium-sized and had all the right number of appendages to qualify as a member of the human race, and so therefore probably had to be given the benefit of the doubt. It was staring at the clock. So was the other figure, which was of a middle-aged, sheep-faced man still holding a cup of tea and, as far as Lobsang could make out, a biscuit.
    “The one who wouldn’t win a beauty contest even if he was the only entrant is an Igor,” said Susan. “The other one is Dr. Hopkins of the Clockmakers’ Guild here.”
    “So we know who built the clock, at least,” said Lobsang.
    “I don’t think so. Mr. Hopkins’s workshop is several streets away. And he makes novelty watches for a rather strange kind of discerning customer. It’s his speciality.”
    “Then the…Igor must’ve built it?”
    “Good grief, no! Igors are professional servants. They never work for themselves.”
    “You seem to know a lot,” said Lobsang, as Susan circled the clock like a wrestler trying to spy out a hold.
    “Yes,” she said without turning her head. “I do. The first clock broke. This one’s holding. Whoever designed it was a genius.”
    “An evil genius?”
    “It’s hard to say. I can’t see any signs.”
    “What kind of signs?”
    “Well, ‘Hahaha!!!!!’ painted on the side would be a definite clue, don’t you think?” she said, rolling her eyes.
    “I’m in your way, am I?” said Lobsang.
    “No, not at all,” said Susan, turning her attention to the workbench. “Well, there’s nothing here. I suppose he could have set a timer. A sort of alarm clock—-”
    She stopped. She picked up a length of rubber hosepipe that was coiled on a hook by the glass jars, and looked hard at it. Then she tossed it into a corner, and stared at it as if she had never seen anything like it before.
    “Don’t say a word,” she said quietly. “They have some very acute senses. Just ease back among those big glass vats behind you and try to look inconspicuous. And do it NOW .”
    The last word had odd harmonics to it, and Lobsang felt his legs begin to move almost without his conscious control.
    The door moved a little and a