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There was one more thing.
The Cambodian fragments had been discovered in 1837, when apriest became aware of a low humming while meditating in hisquarters. He'd lived in that room for forty-seven years and hadnever heard the low musical tone before. He traced it to the baseof a wall, and a loose brick. The five diamonds were behind it.
1837.
It was to that year Edward Oxford, the man from the far future,had been thrown after his arrival in 1840, where he'd accidentallycaused the assassination of Queen Victoria.
A coincidence, surely.
At around six o'clock, Burton got home and was hanging up hishat and coat when Mrs. Angell came down the stairs, looked at himaskance, and said: “There's a nasty sheen on your brow, SirRichard. A relapse?”
“It seems so,” he replied. “I just need to sleep it off. I'lltake a dose of quinine and work on my books awhile.”
“You'll take a dose of quinine and go straight to bed!” shecorrected.
He didn't have the strength to argue.
Ten minutes later, she brought him up a jug of water and a cupof tea.
He was already asleep.
His afternoon of study invaded his dreams.
He became aware of a fierce light, which burned through hiseyelids. He opened them expecting to see firelight flickering on acanvas roof. Instead, he squinted up at a blazing blue desertsky.
Turning his head, he found that he was on his back, with limbsspread out, and wrists and ankles bound with cord to wooden stakes,which were driven deeply into the ground.
Dunes rose up on either side of him. From beyond them came thesound of voices, arguing in one of the languages of the ArabianPeninsula. He couldn't make out the words but one of the voicesbelonged to a woman.
He opened his mouth to shout for help but only a croak came out.His throat was dry and his skin was burning. The sun had suckedevery particle of moisture from the air.
Grains of sand, riding a hot, slow breeze, blew against the sideof his face.
He couldn't move.
Something nudged his left hand. He looked. There was a fairystanding by his wrist; a tiny female figure with transparentbutterfly wings fluttering from her shoulder blades. She had acolourful mark painted on her forehead-like a bindi, thoughdesigned to more resemble an actual third eye.
Burton blinked rapidly. He had the sense that he wasn't bringingthe little creature into full focus, despite being able to see herclearly. She seemed only partially present, as if imposed ontosomething else by his own mind, and he struggled, but failed, topierce the illusion.
The strange being regarded him with golden-coloured eyes, thenturned, bared her tiny pointed teeth, and started to chew at hisbonds.
A second fairy appeared, also female, and clamped her jawsaround the cord binding his right arm.
Movement at his ankles told him there were fairies at workthere, too.
A fifth fluttered onto his stomach and ran up onto his chest.She put her hands on her hips and looked down at his face.
Burton felt his mind manipulated until words emerged from it,and he heard, in his own voice: “The long slow cycle of the agesturns, turns, and turns, O human. Thou art one of the few whoknowest how an individual of thy strange kind didst spring from thenext level of the spiral into that which thou currently inhabits,into that which thou callest thine own time. This action marked adividing. Yet the path thou treadst echoes the one that is lost,and upon both a transition begins-a melting of one great cycle intoanother. Be warned!-tumultuous the change that comes! The stormshall wipe many of thy soft-ski
Or a final transcendence, he wanted to add.
The bonds fell from his ankles and wrists.
The five fairies backed away from him, floated into the air,landed on the sand, fell onto all fours, scampered like lizards,and burrowed into it. They vanished from sight.
He lifted his arms and rubbed his wrists.
A figure strode into view and looked down at him from the top ofa dune. It was Isabel Arundell, dressed in flowing white robes andlooking radiantly beautiful.
She opened her mouth to speak.
He sat up.
Light was filtering through his bedroom curtains.
It was late on Tuesday morning.
He stretched, reached for the bell cord that hung beside hisbed, and gave it a tug. Moments later, the door opened and hisvalet stepped in.
“The usual, please, Nelson.”
The clockwork man saluted and departed.
Only equivalence can lead to destruction.
Meaningless nonsense. As for the rest of it, obviously CountessSabina's words had become jumbled with his research, populating hisnocturnal imaginings with little people and gobbledygook about vastcycles of time.
The little ones are not as they appear
The king's agent sat and pondered until his valet delivered abasin of hot water and a breakfast tray. He got out of bed, took asmall bottle from a drawer, and poured five drops from it into aglass of water, which he swallowed in a single gulp. Dr.Steinhaueser had instructed him to use quinine and nothing elsewhen his attacks came on, but, secretly, Burton had also beendosing himself with Saltzma
Burton washed and shaved at the basin. A warm vitality soakedinto his flesh as the tincture took effect-honey and sunlightoozing through his arteries. Nevertheless, he was still feelingweak and decided to spend the rest of this Tuesday wrapped in hisjubbah, dedicating himself to driving out the last vestiges ofmalaria with strong tobacco and perhaps a brandy or two.
After finishing his toilet and winding the brass man's key, herepaired to the study, lit a Manila, and began to leaf through themorning newspapers. A great many of their pages were devoted to theTichborne case, and he quickly realised that he was still lackingsufficient background information about the affair. It was time, hedecided, to start earning his salary.
A little later, when Mrs. Angell brought him a coffee, he askedher to take a note: To Mr. Henry Arundell, My dear sir, though, tomy deep regret, relations continue to be strained between us, Ihope I can go some way to repairing them by doing you a servicewith regard to the Tichborne situation. The prime minister hascommissioned me to look into the matter, and I would greatlyappreciate the advice of one who has greater knowledge of thefamily than I. To that end, may I extend to you an invitation todine with me at the Venetia Royal Hotel at seven o'clock thisevening?
Ever yours sincerely,
Rich'd F. Burton
“Send that by ru
“A nice area for those that can afford it,” the old lady opined.“If you don't mind me asking, has there been any word from MissIsabel?”
“The last I heard, her parents had received two letters. Itseems my former fiancee is ru