Read Online Times Without Number by John Brunner - Free Book Online Page B

normal-dimensionality.

In the middle of the frame, a man's form was seen to collapse.

Father Ramón jerked to his feet. "Be swift!" he ordered the

technicians. "Help him -- come on, move!"

The technicians darted forward, some to dismantle the frame of metal bars,

others to help Don Miguel to his feet and lead him to a couch that stood

waiting. Slaves hastened to fetch restoratives and basins of clean warm

water.

A bare half-hour had elapsed in the hall since the moment they had

dispatched their emissary to the past. But it was plain that for him

much time had gone by. His skin was burnt by sun to the colour of leather,

and his eyes were red and inflamed with dust. The General Officers

gathered anxiously about his couch, wondering how gravely he had suffered.

Not especially, it transpired. For, having accepted a sip or two of

stimulating cordial, he brushed aside further attentions and managed to

sit up. He passed his tongue over sunchapped lips and spoke in a thick

slow voice.

"It is done," he said, and looked about him as though not yet convinced

of his return to the familiar world. His mind was still whirling with

the memory of the great city of Texcoco burning in tropic daylight,

as his body was still clad only in the breech-clout of an Indian of

that time. The slaves had begun to wash away the painted symbols from

his cheeks, but had completed only half their task; the division of his

face summed up the way he was still poised between two realities.

The General Officers breathed a sigh of relief. Red Bear said harshly,

"You are certain?"

"Absolutely. I found the workshop of Hungry Dog without trouble, at the

very time he was working on the mask. When it was complete, it waited

in his house for the festival at which it was to be dedicated with

sacrifices to the great god Tezcatlipoca. I contrived to see it on a

number of occasions prior to the date of the festival. And the last day

before, a man came into the shop and stole the mask."

"Was it Don Arcimboldo?" demanded the Prince.

"Presumably. Perhaps."

"Aren't you certain?" The Prince leaned forward angrily, but Father Ramón

laid a hand restrainingly on his arm.

"Our brother Navarro has done well," he said.

"How so, if he cannot prove who the thief was?" the Prince countered,

blinking.

"Why, he had at all costs to avoid the risk of being seen by Don Arcimboldo.

Had they met, Don Arcimboldo might have recognised him when they met at the

Marquesa's. This did not happen. Therefore it was correct not to confront

him."

"So I reasoned," said Don Miguel, resting his chin wearily in his hands.

"Accordingly, when I saw the mask was gone, I simply replaced it --

I mean I replaced it with the version I'd brought from now. I stayed

long enough to ensure that it was dedicated at the festival as planned,

and . . . here I am."

The Prince grunted. "It's all in order now, you think, Father Ramón?"

"As far as we can tell."

"Good! Then I must go back to New Castile. Had it not been for this delay

I'd planned to leave Londres days ago. Red Bear, I charge you with attending

to the rest of the details. Good day!"

He gave curt nods to his colleagues and departed from the time-hall with

cloak flying and aides trotting at his heels. After a thoughtful pause,

Red Bear moved away from Don Miguel's couch to supervise the dismantling

of the time apparatus, and Father Ramón remained alone.

"How do you feel, my son?" he asked eventually.

"I begin to recover," said Don Miguel, and accepted another sip of the

cordial. "My hurts are more in my mind than in my body. I was witness

to a sacrifice to Tezcatlipoca less than a day ago, and I still feel

nauseated."

"Understandably," the Jesuit said with sympathy.

Don Miguel sat up on the couch with his arms linked around his shins and

set his chin on his knees, staring into nowhere. After a pause he said,

"You know, Father, it sometimes makes me wonder what blindness we also

may be guilty