"The Houses of Parliament have a pickup for members at midnight," Ouhish said. "That letter would have been on the train to Scotland half an hour later. It would have been in Edinburgh, and delivered, with the first post … some time after five in the morning. No later than seven, anyway. If a reply was passed directly back to the postman, that letter would also have gone on a train within an hour or so, and the reply would have been in London – Windsor, in this case – by the two o'clock post at the latest."
Rhiow shook her head. "And we think our ehhif have technology," she said softly. "Sometimes retrotech has its points."
They spent the afternoon at the Museum, and said their farewells to Ouhish and Hwallis around four: then went for one last meeting, in Green Park. Artie was out for one last afternoon in London: the next morning he was due to catch the train back to Edinburgh, and after that he would be heading off to a school on the Continent. He was sorrowful, but his basic good cheer would not let the affair be entirely a sad one.
"But will I never see you again," Artie said, "or Ith?"
"For out own part, it seems unlikely," Rhiow said. "Mostly wizards don't do time-work without permission from the Powers. There are too many things that can go wrong. But you will remember us for a long time."
Probably not forever … she thought, but didn't say. One of the factors which protected wizardry from revelation was the tendency of humans minds to censor themselves over time, forgetting the "impossible", recasting the improbable into more acceptable forms. Childhood memories, in particular, were liable to this kind of editing, as the adult mind decided retroactively what things could have happened in the "real world", and which were dreams. Yet Artie was a little unusual. There was something about him which suggested that he would not easily let go of a memory, and that no matter how impossible something was, if it was true, he would cope with it … and hang on.
"But Ith is another story," Urruah said. "His time isn't precisely our time: the universe where he lives is closer to the heart of things … and so a little easier to get in and out of, for him. Also, he outranks us." Urruah smiled. "He's a Senior now … and Seniors have more latitude."
"No matter what else happens," Fhrio said, "remember that you helped save the Queen, and many millions of people you'll never know. You'll never be able to prove it to anybody. But without you, we would not have been guaranteed entry into this timeline … and we couldn't
have been sure to save the others. You did that. It might have been an accident at first … but afterwards, you did it willingly. We won't forget that, or you … and neither will the Powers."
Artie smiled at that. "I guess it's better than nothing."
"Immeasurably," Rhiow said.
They parted as sunset drew on, and made their way back to the Mark Lane Underground, where they had lodged the timeslide. As they went underground for the last time in this period, Rhiow looked up into the dirty sky. There was no Moon there, tarnished or otherwise. Depending on whether or not they managed to track back the "seed" event of this chain, it might always wear those terrible scars. But at least now there was a good chance that the world would not.
"So what's next?" she said to Huff, as they made their way down to the "derelict" platform.
"That book," he said. "Fhrio, think we'll be able to wring what we need out of the gate logs when we get back?"
"I feel certain of it," he said. "And with Siffha'h to power the gating, the way she's doing now, there shouldn't be anything that can interfere."
He sounded positively cheerful, Rhiow thought. She found herself wondering, a little ironically, whether this was because of how well the mission had gone, or whether it was because soon Urruah and Arhu would be leaving.
An unworthy thought. Never mind. It's all worked out nicely. How good it's going to be to get home to Iaehh, and let life go back to normal: our own gates to take care of, no commuting …
