Thief of Time - Terry Pratchett [128]
The spinners turned back and forth. There was no need for the jumpers now. The crystal rods that had survived the crash hung uselessly from their hooks as time arced overhead from one Procrastinator to another, showing up as red or blue glow in the air. It was a sight to frighten the knoptas off any trained spinner driver, Lu-Tze knew. It looked like a cascade running wild, but there was some control in there, some huge pattern being woven…Bearings squealed. Butter bubbled. The bases of some spinners were smoking. But things held. They’re being held, Lu-Tze thought.
He looked up at the registers. The boards slammed back and forth, sending lines of red or blue or bare wood across the wall of the cavern. There was a pall of white smoke around them as their own wooden bearings gently charred.
Past and future were streaming through the air. The sweeper could feel them.
On the podium, Lobsang was wrapped in the glow. The bobbins were not being moved anymore. What was going on now was on some other level, which didn’t need the intervention of crude mechanisms.
Lion tamer, Lu-Tze thought. He starts off needing chairs and whips, but one day, if he’s really good, he can go into the cage and do the show using nothing more than eye and voice. But only if he’s really good, and you’ll know if he’s really good, because he’ll come out of the cage again—
He stopped his prowl along the thundering lines because there was a change in the sound.
One of the biggest spinners was slowing down. It stopped as Lu-Tze watched, and didn’t start again.
Lu-Tze raced around the cavern until he found Susan and Unity. Three more spinners stopped before he reached them.
“He’s doing it! He’s doing it! Come away!” he shouted. With a jolt that shook the floor, another spinner stopped.
The three ran toward the end of the cavern where the smaller Procrastinators were still whirling, but the halt was already speeding down the rows. Spinner after spinner slammed to a standstill, the domino effect overtaking the humans until, when they reached the little chalk spinners, they were in time to see the last ones rattle gently to a standstill.
There was silence, except for the sizzle of grease and the click of cooling rock.
“Is it all over?” said Unity, wiping the sweat from her face with her dress and leaving a trail of sequins.
Lu-Tze and Susan looked at the glow at the other end of the hall, and then at one another.
“I…don’t…think…so,” said Susan.
Lu-Tze nodded. “I think it’s just—” he began.
Bars of green light leaped from spinner to spinner and hung in the air as rigid as steel. They flickered on and off between the columns, filling the air with thunderclaps. Patterns of switching snapped back and forth across the cavern.
The tempo increased. The thunderclaps became one long roll of overpowering sound. The bars brightened, expanded, and then the air was all one brilliant light—
Which vanished. The sound ceased so abruptly that the silence clanged.
The trio got to their feet slowly.
“What was that?” said Unity.
“I think he made some changes,” said Lu-Tze.
The spinners were silent. The air was hot. Smoke and steam filled the roof of the cavern.
Then, responding to the routine of humanity’s eternal wrestle with time, the spinners began to pick up the load.
It came gently, like a breeze. And the spinners took the strain, from the smallest to the largest, settling once again into their gentle, ponderous pirouette.
“Perfect,” said Lu-Tze. “Almost as good as it was, I’ll bet.”
“Only almost?” said Susan, wiping the butter off her face.
“Well, he’s partly human,” said the sweeper. They turned to the podium, and it was empty. Susan was not surprised. He’d be weak now, of course. Of course, something like this would take it out of anyone. Of course, he’d need to rest. Of course.
“He’s gone,” she said flatly.
“Who knows?” said Lu-Tze. “For is it not written, ‘You never know