Times Without Number Read Online Free Page A

wouldn't

it?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, you are threatening me, and the existence of our entire world!

Get that fact into your head, my lady -- there's plenty of room for it,

since your skull's so empty!" Don Miguel didn't enjoy this descent to

crude insult, but there seemed to be no alternative.

"Don -- Don Arcimboldo Ruiz!" She choked over the name. Don Miguel

whirled, his cloak flying, and snapped at the tall slave waiting by

the door.

"Find him! Bring him here -- and quickly!"

Upon the slave's departure, the Marquesa threw herself across the

bed and dissolved into ostentatious weeping. Don Miguel ignored her,

and passed the time until Don Arcimboldo's arrival in inspecting

the mask more closely. Everything pointed to the conclusion he had

already reached, particularly the freshness of the marks left by the

goldsmith's hammer. Nothing buried in the earth and recovered -- not

even incorruptible gold -- could have retained this condition throughout

the centuries.

"Heaven preserve us," Don Miguel whispered under his breath.

Abruptly the door was flung back again, and the freckled man whom he'd

encountered earlier came hurrying into the room, wearing a puzzled

expression.

"Don Miguel!" he exclaimed. "You desired my presence?" And appended

a bow to the Marquesa, who had sat up again at the intrusion and was

desperately wiping away the trace of tears.

Don Miguel wasted no time on formality. "She says you gave her this mask --

is that true?"

"Why . . . Yes, certainly I did. Is something wrong?"

"Where did you get it?"

"I bought it openly enough, from a merchant in the market beyond the

city wall. From a man named Higgins, to be precise, with whom I've done

much business in the past."

"Did you check that it was licensed for importation?"

"No, what reason would I have to do such a thing?" A look of awe spread

across Don Arcimboldo's face. "Oh no! You're not implying that it's . . . ?"

"Contraband? It certainly seems to be." Don Miguel passed a worried

hand through his hair, ruining the careful pre-party endeavours of his

barber. "I don't doubt you acted in good faith, but . . . Oh, honestly,

Don Arcimboldo! Look at that thing, will you? It must weigh more than

twelve pounds; it's so finely wrought it must have been famous in its

own period, and it would certainly have come to my notice if the Society

had licensed it for importation. Anyway, we wouldn't dispose of something

like that -- we'd donate it to the Imperial Museum, or the Mexicological

Institute in New Madrid. Didn't its mere condition make you suspect

something might be wrong?"

"Ah . . . Well, frankly, no." Don Arcimboldo shifted from foot to foot,

but in his position, Don Miguel told himself, he too would have been

embarrassed. "I'm afraid I'm not much of an expert on New World artefacts;

I collect Saxon, Irish and Norse work. Which is why I didn't hang on to

the mask, of course."

"But surely anyone with an interest in any kind of . . . "

Don Miguel let the words trail away. There was no point in arguing. Far

more important was to put right the consequences of this disaster,

if -- and he shivered a little at the implications of the proviso --

it were still possible to detect them.

"Is there anything I can do?" Don Arcimboldo inquired anxiously.

"Yes. Yes, there is. Find a couple of slaves and send them to the local

branches of the Holy Office and the Society of Time, and get someone

discreet and capable here as fast as possible. It's going to spoil the

party somewhat, I'm afraid, but better a party than the world!"

Even as he spoke he was aware that from his own point of view it would

be as bad to be shown wrong as to be shown right -- the Society did

not take kindly to people who cried wolf in public about its private

affairs. But there was no help for that now; to employ the image he'd

used earlier in explaining temporal paradox to the Marquesa, there was

a key stone for every avalanche, and in this