The Time Keeper Part 2

In good time. About time. Take your time. Save time.

A long time. Right on time. Out of time. Mind the time. Be on time. Spare time. Keep time. Stall for time.

There are as many expressions with "time" as there are minutes in a day.

But once, there was no word for it at all. Because no one was counting.

Then Dor began.

And everything changed.

7.

One day, when his children were old enough to run hillsides on their own, Dor had a visit from King Nim, his childhood friend.

"What is this?" Nim asked.

He was holding a bowl. There was a small hole near the bottom.

"A measure," Dor answered.

"No, Dor." Nim laughed. "It is a useless bowl. Look at this hole. Any water you pour in will drip out."

Dor did not challenge him. How could he? While Dor spent his days with bones and sticks, Nim led attacks on neighboring villages, took people's possessions, declared that they must follow him.

This visit was unusual, the first in many moons. Nim wore an impressive wool robe, dyed purple, a color of wealth.

"You know of the tower we build?" Nim asked.

"It is unlike anything I have ever seen," Dor said.

"That is just the start, friend. It will take us to the heavens."

"Why?"

"To defeat the G.o.ds."

"Defeat them?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

Nim puffed out his chest. "Then I shall rule from above." Dor looked away.

"Join me," Nim said.

"Me?"

"You are clever, I know from our days as children. You are not mad as the others say. Your knowledge and these ... things ..."

He pointed to the instruments.

"They could make my tower stronger, yes?"

Dor shrugged.

"Show me how they work."

For the rest of the afternoon, Dor explained his ideas.

He showed Nim how the shadow from the sun stick lined up with his markings, and how pointers on the stick broke the day into parts. He laid out his collection of stones that charted the stages of the moon.

Nim did not understand most of what Dor said. He shook his head and insisted the sun G.o.d and the moon G.o.d were in constant battle; that accounted for their rise and fall. Power was what mattered. And power was what awaited him once the tower was complete.

Dor listened, but he could not see Nim storming the clouds. What chance would he have?

When their conversation finished, Nim grabbed one of the sun sticks.

"I will take this with me," he said.

"Wait-"

Nim pulled it to his chest. "Make another. Bring it when you come to help with the tower."

Dor looked down. "I cannot help you."

Nim ground his jaw back and forth.

"Why not?"

"I have my work."

Nim laughed. "Putting holes in bowls?"

"It is more than that."

"I will not ask again."

Dor said nothing.

"As you wish." Nim exhaled. He stepped to the doorway. "But you must leave the city."

"Leave?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"That does not concern me." Nim examined the carvings on the sun stick. "But go far. If you do not, my men will force you onto the tower-as they will the others."

He moved past the bowls and lifted the one with the small hole in it, turned it over, then shook his head.

"I will never forget our childhood," Nim said. "But we will not see each other again."

8.

Sarah Lemon is running out of time.

It is 7:25 P.M. and her black jeans-which she finally found in the was.h.i.+ng machine-are now tumbling in the dryer, on the highest heat, and her hair is so unruly she wants to cut it off. Her mother has twice returned to her room, the last time holding a gla.s.s of wine, and offered an opinion on Sarah's makeup. ("OK, Mom, I got it," she said, dismissing her.) She has chosen a raspberry T-s.h.i.+rt, the black jeans-if they ever dry!-and the black boots with the heels. Heels will make her look thinner.

She is to meet her boy outside a convenience store-Eight-thirty, eight-thirty!-and maybe they will eat something or go somewhere. Whatever he wants. Until now, they have only seen each other on Sat.u.r.day mornings at a shelter where they work. But Sarah hinted several times about getting together and last week he finally said, "Yeah, OK, maybe Friday."

Now it is Friday and she feels goose b.u.mps on her skin. A boy like this-popular, good-looking-has never paid attention to Sarah before. When she is with him, she wants the minutes to go slower, yet until she sees him, they cannot pa.s.s quickly enough.

She looks in the mirror.

"Ahgg, this hair!"

Victor Delamonte is running out of time.

It is 7:25 P.M. The East Coast offices will be closed but the West Coast will not.

He picks up the phone. He dials a different time zone. He asks for Research. While he waits, he eyes the books on his shelves and does a mental inventory. Read it. Never read it. Never read it ...

If he used every minute the doctor said he had left, he still wouldn't finish all these volumes. And this is one room. In one house. Unacceptable. He is rich. He must do something.

"Research," a female voice says.

"Yeah, it's Victor."

"Mr. Delamonte?" She sounds nervous. "How can I help?"

He thinks about Grace and the wheelchair she ordered. He will not give up so easily.

"I want you to get on something right away. Send me whatever you find."

"Certainly." The researcher taps her keys. "What's the topic?"

"Immortality."

9.

That night, after Nim's visit, Dor and Alli climbed a hillside to watch the sun set.

They did this almost every evening, recalling the days they chased each other as children. But this time, Dor was quiet. He carried several bowls and a jug of water. When they sat, he told Alli about Nim's visit. She began to cry.

"But where are we to go?" she said. "This is our home, our family. How will we survive?"

Dor looked down.

"Do you want me enslaved on that tower?"

"No."

"Then we have no choice."

He touched her tears and wiped them away.

"I am afraid," she whispered.

She hugged her arms around his chest and leaned her head into his shoulder. She did this every night, and like most small demonstrations of love, it had a large impact. Dor felt a surge of calm whenever she held him, like being wrapped in a blanket, and he knew no one else would ever love or understand him the way she did. He nestled his face into her long dark hair, and he breathed a way he never breathed except when he was with her.

"I will protect you," he promised.

They sat for a long while, watching the horizon.

"Look," Alli whispered. She loved the sunset colors-the oranges, the soft pinks, the cranberry reds.

Dor stood up.

"Where are you going?" Alli asked.

"I must try something."