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She returned to the other reality and stared at the sister adepts below her. Why were they whispering in the bounds of the holy cavern? They should be preparing for the return of the Scaphe. Ninety minutes was almost over.

She strained to catch their words.

". . . they must have given up hope on the Time Scaphe by now. How long has it been missing? Fifteen days?"

A pit gaped open in the Pythia's stomach. Her hands tugged at her jewels. The Future had been stolen.

"Fish tongues!" she cried aloud, her voice cracking with disuse. "More fish tongues!"

15: Time and Again

The little animal froze in a blind terror. It scuffled one way across the ledge, allowed just so far before the silver paw batted it back in the other direction.

There was no escape. The cat dabbed at the dust-grey shrew again, just as Time played with the hapless inhabitants of the City below. The tiny creature squealed and scuffled the length of the high ledge.

The cat pounced and pinned its victim down. Its amber eyes were sharp as teeth with narrow black slits like claws. Its paws turned the shrew over and over in the dust.

The sound of tramping feet.

The cat looked up from its prey. It could see nothing in the Street below, but the sound was nearby.

Its paws loosened their grip and the reprieved shrew darted for a crack in the crumbling masonry.

The silver cat gathered itself and sprang. It gleamed like flung mercury as it arced through the air, travelling from one building top to another. Leaping beyond the bounds of any natural cat.

It ran up the tilting summit of this next structure, and perched on a baroque mansard shaped like an outstretched wing. Figures were moving below, guards marching as if there was no Time to spare, travelling on a direct route towards the looming edifice of the Watch Tower.

On another artery adjacent to the first, a grey shape was cartwheeling its effortful way along. It hissed as it went. The cat's tail began to lash. It arched its back and spat at the unwelcome usurper of its world.

The dark excretory trail that the creature left directly crossed the path of the oncoming guards.

Ace travelled backwards, slung over the shoulder of one of the guards and too exhausted to keep up a struggle. They seemed to have been yomping along for hours. The guard's cluster of composite eyelets rippled beside her head. It kept twelve eyes on her and watched where it was going with the other dozen. Its dark red and mandibled insect head was more like a helmet asserted over its scabrous humanoid body.

Rough armoured growths encrusted the forms of all the guards, yet Ace was certain, either by instinct or intuition, that her guard, the smallest guard, was a female. They all kept up an endless chittering to each other, relaying incomprehensible messages and orders through high-speed trills and squeaks that made Ace's head reel.

On a sudden shout from Vael, the group halted and the chittering stopped. Her guard waited, apparently unwilling to relieve itself of her weight for even a short time.

No chance of legging it while they were busy, but she still felt like a good barney with someone. Apart from Shonnzi, she didn't much rate anyone she had met here. But Vael was the worst. His long red hair, not as red and gold as Shonnzi's, and the permanent sneer on his thin spotty face really riled her. A wimp with power: she wanted to pummel his face in.

She heard him say, "If it's come back, then the Process is in trouble." He was frightened.

"Oi, mush!" she yelled. "Are we moving or what?" She gave the back of her guard a hearty thump with her fist. Its claw tightened around her.

Vael appeared by her head. "You're worth a lot to me," he said. "You can save all of us, if you listen."

"Go stick your head in a breezeblock sandwich."

"Down!" he snapped. The guard released her and she tumbled to the ground. He crouched beside her and kept his voice low. "For a long time, I thought things couldn't change round here. We were