The Time Roads

I took another sip, then set my cup aside. “Four days ago, Lord Ó Tíghearnaigh asked if you could breach the walls of time. You denied that. You were lying.”

Gwen started up, her cheeks flushed. I held up a hand to forestall her protests.

“You lied because you know the dangers.”

“I lied because—” She broke off and swore under her breath. “Your Lord Ó Tíghearnaigh believes science is nothing but a weapon. He wants us to transport his armies into the past and the future. But I told the truth when I said we could not send a man to any exact moment in time. Our work…”

“Is incomplete. I understand that. Tell me what you have accomplished.”

Still she hesitated.

So and so. I would have to offer her my trust, before she could do the same for me. I stood. “Come. Come, and I will show you the reason for my questions.”

We traversed the darkened dressing room. I unlocked my bedroom door and switched on the electric light. As I stepped to one side, Gwen entered the room. I knew the moment she sighted Breandan’s body underneath the blanket, because she went still as a hunting dog.

“What has happened here?” she whispered.

“A visitation from the future,” I said. I pulled away the blanket and knelt at Breandan’s side. “This man was Doctor Breandan Ó Cuilinn.”

She hissed. She would know the name and his history, of course. Ó Cuilinn had lectured in mathematics at Awveline University during the same years her brother had attended for his graduate studies. Murder and the vanishment of time lines had obliterated much of his work, but I had no doubt that brother and sister had made it their business to read what papers remained.

“He materialized not more than an hour ago,” I said. “He was dying even then, and could not speak more than a few words. I believe he had a message for me.”

Her pale face had gone paper white. “You are certain of his purpose?”

“I am.”

Her gaze flickered from Breandan’s body to my face, then back. “Have you searched him?”

Cold, so cold, and yet, I understood her manner, better than I had anyone else. I pointed to the small heap on the floor, the coins and scraps of paper and the currency bills. Gwen seemed to find the latter more intriguing than the first. “He has traveled the time roads,” she said softly.

She then proceeded to search Breandan’s clothing more thoroughly. She tugged the jacket loose enough to examine the second outer pocket, which yielded only more scribbled equations and a matchbox. An inner pocket, however, held a wallet with more banknotes and an identification card bearing the name Breandan Ó Corráin, citizen of the regional district of Osraighe. I recognized the street name as one on the western edge of the city, less than a mile from Cill Cannig.

Twelve years spent in the alien land of the future. How had he survived? I could only guess that the war and its aftermath had offered the necessary chaos for him to create a new name and identity. He must have resumed work almost at once to create a new time machine.…

“You see why I asked you to come,” I said. “Perhaps I cannot save my dead. But perhaps I can save those who come after me. If I could speak with Breandan, I might learn what I need to make the right decisions. Will you show me the time roads?”

The quiet of a soft Éireann night filled the room.

“I can promise nothing.”

“I know that. But if we do not act, we say that he gave his life for nothing.”

She glanced from me to Breandan’s face and back. “Let us go to the laboratory and I shall do what I can.”

* * *

We would need to wear inconspicuous clothing, Gwen told me. There could be no certainty as to what qualified as inconspicuous, I thought. In the end, I chose a plain costume of dark trousers, low boots, and a dark woolen jumper. Gwen herself wore her usual working clothes of trousers and shirt, which were equally plain. My wardrobe provided us both with long drab coats of wool. If we could avoid direct confrontation, we might pass as men.

With the door to my bedroom locked, and the key in my pocket, we exited my apartments. I gave orders to the guards to admit no one, not my ministers, not even the chief of the Queen’s Constabulary. With one guard to follow, we hurried through the corridors of Cill Cannig, across the great public halls, and into the wing I had once assigned to Breandan Ó Cuilinn. My guard took his post outside, while I continued alone with Gwen.

Most of the laboratory was dark. One lamp illuminated the far end, and I recognized Síomón Madóc bent over his desk, with several open books scattered about and a calculator machine to his right. His head jerked up at our approach, and he gave an exclamation of surprise and displeasure. “Gwen…”

“She comes with my permission, Síomón. I will tell you about it later.”

He shrugged and returned to his work, already dismissing us from his attention as we passed by his desk, to the end of the laboratory itself, where more crates partially obscured a plain wooden door. A storage closet or something like, I thought.

Gwen slid between the crates and unlocked the door. I followed, only to stop in surprise on the threshold.