"It's too late to know," said Mrs. Persson. "I still hold with the reaction theory on the Conjunction, but where it leaves us — how we'll be affected — is anyone's guess." She shrugged and was cheerful. "I suppose it helps to believe in reincarnation."

"It's the sense of insecurity that I mind," said Glogauer.

Jherek made a contribution. "They're very pretty. It reminds me of some of the things the rotting cities still do."

Mrs. Persson turned back from where she was inspecting a screen. "Your cities, Mr. Carnelian, are almost as bewildering as Time itself."

Jherek agreed. "They are almost as old, I suppose."

Captain Bastable was amused. "It suggests that Time approaches senility. It's an attractive metaphor."

"We can do without metaphors, I should have thought," Sergeant Glogauer told him severely.

"It's all we have." Captain Bastable permitted himself a small yawn. "What would be the chances of getting Mrs. Underwood and Mr. Carnelian here back to the nineteenth century?"

"Standard line?"

Captain Bastable nodded.

"Almost zero, at present. If they didn't mind waiting…"

"We are anxious to leave." Mrs. Underwood spoke for them both.

"What about the End of Time?" Captain Bastable asked Glogauer.

"Indigenous? Point of departure?"

"More or less."

The sergeant frowned, studying surrounding screens. "Pretty good."

"Would that suit you?" Captain Bastable turned to his guests.

"It was where we were heading for, originally," Jherek said.

"Then we'll try to do that."

"And Inspector Springer?" Mrs. Underwood's conscience made her speak. "And the Lat?"

"I think we'll try to deal with them separately — they arrived separately, after all."

Una Persson rubbed her eyes. "If there were any means of contacting Jagged, Oswald. We could confer."

"There is every chance he has returned to the End of Time," Jherek told her. "I would willingly bear a message."

"Yes," she said. "Perhaps we will do that. Very well. I suggest you sleep now, after you've had something to eat. We'll make the preparations. If everything goes properly, you should be able to leave by morning. I'll see what the power situation is like. We're a bit limited, of course. Essentially this is only an observation post and a liaison point for Guild members. We've very little spare equipment or energy. But we'll do what we can."

Leaving the charting room, Captain Bastable offered Mrs. Underwood his arm. She took it.

"I suppose this all seems a bit prosaic to you," he said. "After the wonders of the End of Time, I mean."

"Scarcely that," she murmured. "But I do find it rather confusing. My life seemed so settled in Bromley, just a few months ago. The strain…"

"You are looking drawn, dear Amelia," said Jherek from behind them. He was disturbed by Captain Bastable's attentions.

She ignored him. "All this moving about in Time cannot be healthy," she said. "I admire anyone who can appear as phlegmatic as you, Captain."

"One becomes used to it, you know." He patted the hand which enfolded his arm. "But you are bearing up absolutely wonderfully, Mrs. Underwood, if this is your first trip to the Palaeozoic."

She was flattered. "I have my consolations," she said. "My prayers and so on. And my Wheldrake. Are you familiar with the poems of Wheldrake, Captain Bastable?"

"When a boy, they were all I read. He can be very apt. I follow you."

She lifted her head and, as they moved along that black, yielding corridor, she began to speak in slow, rounded tones:

For once I looked on worlds sublime,

And knew pure Beauty, free from Time,

Knew unchained Joy, untempered Hope;

And coward, then, I fled!

Captain Bastable had been speaking the same words beneath his breath. "Exactly!" he said, adding:

Detected now beneath the organ's note,

The organ's groan, the bellows' whine;

And what the Sun made splendid,

Bereft of Sun is merely fine!

Listening, Jherek Carnelian felt a peculiar and unusual sensation. He had the impulse to separate them, to interrupt, to seize her and to carry her away from this handsome Victorian officer, this contemporary who knew so much better than did Jherek how to please her, to comfort her. He was baffled.

He heard Mrs. Persson say: "I do hope our arrangements suit you, Mr. Carnelian. Is your mind more at ease?"

He spoke vaguely. "No," he said, "it is not. I believe I must be 'unhappy'."

"The capsule has no power of its own," Una Persson explained. Morning light filtered through the opening in the wall above them as the four stood together in the Time Centre's compound and inspected the rectangular object, just large enough for two people and resembling, as Mrs. Underwood had earlier remarked, nothing so much as a sedan chair. "We shall control it from here. It is actually safer than any other kind of machine, for we can study the megaflow and avoid major ruptures. We shall keep you on course, never fear."

"And be sure to remind Lord Jagged that we should be glad of his advice," added Captain Bastable. He kissed Mrs. Underwood's hand. "It has been a very great pleasure, ma'am." He saluted.

"It has been a pleasure for me to meet a gentleman," she replied, "I thank you, sir, for your kindness."

"Time we were aboard, eh?" Jherek's joviality was of the false and insistent sort.

Una Persson seemed to be enjoying some private glee. She hugged one of Oswald Bastable's arms and whispered in his ear. He blushed.

Jherek climbed into his side of the box. "If there's anything I can send you from the End of Time, let me know," he called. "We must try to keep in touch."

"Indeed," she said. "In the circumstances, all we time-travellers have is one another. Ask Jagged about the Guild."

"I think Mr. Carnelian has had his fill of adventuring through time, Mrs. Persson." Amelia Underwood was smiling and her attitude towards Jherek had something possessive about it, so that Jherek was bewildered even more.

"Sometimes, once we have embarked upon the exercise, we are not allowed to stop," Una Persson said. "I mention it, only. But I hope you are successful in settling, if that is what you wish. Some would have it that Time creates the human condition, you know — that, and nothing else."

They had begun to shout, now that a loud thrumming filled the air.

"We had best stand clear," said Captain Bastable. "Occasionally there is a shock wave. The vacuum, you know." He guided Mrs. Persson towards the largest of the black huts. "The capsule finds its own level. You have nothing to fear on that score. You won't be drowned, or burned, or compressed."

Jherek watched them retreat. The thrumming grew louder and louder. His back pressed against Mrs. Underwood's. He turned to ask her if she were comfortable but before he could speak a stillness fell and there was complete silence. His head felt suddenly light. He looked to Mrs. Persson and Captain Bastable for an answer, but they were gone and only a shadowy, flickering ghost of the black wall could be seen. Finally this, too, disappeared and foliage replaced it. Something huge and heavy and alive moved towards them, passed through them, it seemed, and was gone. Heat and cold became extreme, seemed one. Hundreds of colours came and went, but were pale, washed out, rainy. There was dampness in the air he breathed; little tremors of pain ran through him but were past almost before his brain could signal their presence. Booming, echoing sounds — slow sounds, deep and sluggish — blossomed in his ears. He swung up and down, he swung sideways, always as if the capsule were suspended from a wire, like a pendulum. He could feel her warm body pressed to his shoulders, but he could not hear her voice and he could not turn to see her, for every movement took infinity to consider and perform, and he appeared to weigh tons, as though his mass spread through miles of space and years of time. The capsule tilted forward, but he did not fall from his seat; something pressed him in, securing him: grey waves washed him; red rays rolled from toe to head. The chair began to spin. He heard his own name, or something very like it, being called by a high, mocking voice. Words piped at him; all the words of his life.