Thief of Time

He eased himself carefully around the glass, and opened the front door of the shop. The wood moved very slowly, fighting against the enormous speed.

Lu-Tze was not in the street. But there was something new, hovering in the air just a few inches above the ground right where the old man had been. It had not been there before.

Someone with their own portable time had been here, and dropped this, and had moved on before it reached the ground.

It was a small glass jar, coloured blue by temporal effects. Now… how much energy could it have? Lobsang cupped his hand and gingerly brought it underneath and up, and there was a tingle and a sudden feeling of weight as the spinners field claimed it.

Now its true colours came back. The jar was a milky pink or, rather, clear glass that looked pink because of the contents. The paper lid was covered with badly printed pictures of unbelievably flawless strawberries, surrounding some ornate lettering which read: RONALD SOAK, HYGIENIC DAIRYMAN. STRAWBERRY YOGHURT “FRESH AS THE MORNING DEW.”

Soak? He knew the name! The man had delivered milk to the Guild! Good fresh milk, too, not the watery, green-tinted stuff the other dairies supplied. Very reliable, everyone said. But, reliable or not, he was just a milkman… all right, just a very good milkman… and if time had stopped, then why—

Lobsang looked around desperately. The people and carts that thronged the street were still there. No one had moved. No one could move.

But something was running along the gutter. It looked like a rat in a black robe, running along on its hind legs. It looked up at Lobsang, and he saw that it had a skull rather than a head. As skulls went, it was quite a cheerful one.

The word SQUEAK manifested itself inside his brain without bothering to go via his ears. Then the rat hopped onto the pavement and scampered down an alley.

Lobsang followed it.

A moment later someone behind him grabbed him by the neck. He went to break the lock, and realized how much he'd relied on slicing when he was fought. Besides, the person behind him had a very strong grip indeed.

“I just want to make sure you don't do anything silly,” it said. It was a female voice. “What is this thing on your back?”

“Who are—?”

“The protocol in these matters,” said the voice, “is that the person with the killer neckgrip asks the questions.”

“Er, it's a Procrastinator. Er, it stores time. Who—”

“Oh dear, there you go again. What is your name?”

“Lobsang. Lobsang Ludd. Look, could you wind me up, please? It's urgent.”

“Certainly. Lobsang Ludd, you are thoughtless and impulsive and deserve to die a stupid and pointless death.”

“What?”

“And you are also rather slow on the uptake. You are referring to this handle?”

“Yes. I'm running out of time. Now can I ask who you are?”

“Miss Susan. Hold still.”

He heard, behind him, the incredibly welcome sound of the Procrastinators clockwork being rewound.

“Miss Susan?” he said.

“That's what most people I know call me. Now, I'm going to let you go. I will add that trying anything stupid will be counterproductive. Besides, I'm the only person in the world right now who might be inclined to twiddle your handle again.”

The pressure was released. Lobsang turned slowly.

Miss Susan was a slightly built young woman, dressed severely all in black. Her hair stood out around her head like an aura, white-blond with one black streak. But the most striking thing about her was… was everything, Lobsang realized, everything from her expression to the way she stood. Some people fade into the background. Miss Susan faded into the foreground. She stood out. Everything she stood in front of became nothing more than background.

“Finished?” she said. “Seen everything?”

“Sorry. Have you seen an old man? Dressed a bit like me? With one of these on his back?”

“No. Now it's my turn. Have you got rhythm?”

“What?”

Susan rolled her eyes. “All right. Do you have music?”

“Not on me, no!”

“And you certainly haven't got a girl,” said Susan. “I saw Old Man Trouble go past a few minutes ago. It'd be a good idea if you don't bump into him, then.”

“And is he likely to have taken my friend?”

“I doubt it. And Old Man Trouble is more an ‘it’ than a ‘he’. Anyway, there's far worse than him around right now. Even the bogeymen have gone to ground.”

“Look, time has stopped, right?” said Lobsang.

“Yes.”

“So how can you be here talking to me?”

“I'm not what you might call a creature of time,” said Susan. “I work in it, but I don't have to live there. There are a few of us about.”

“Like this Old Man Trouble you mentioned?”

“Right. And the Hogfather, the Tooth Fairy, the Sandman, people like that.”

“I thought they were mythical?”

“So?” Susan glanced out of the mouth of the alley again.

“And you're not?”

“I take it you didn't stop the clock,” said Miss Susan, looking up and down the street.

“No. I was… too late. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone back to help Lu-Tze.”

“I'm sorry? You were dashing to prevent the end of the world but you stopped to help some old man? You… hero!”