Alice teetered on the edge of a black void. One more step forward and she would have plunged into an inf?inite abyss. At the thought, her skin broke out in goose bumps, and she rubbed her arms to try to warm herself.
Far across the void, the black spires of a Gothic castle stretched upward. But there was no way to get there. Then she heard something—a rhythmic beat, like a drum ... or a clock.
Tick.
Tick.
Peering down, Alice saw a stone walkway yards beneath her and twenty feet away, but it was ticking its way toward her. The length of it reached all the way across the chasm to the castle, and it seemed to shift closer every second. It looked like it was the second hand to an enormous clock with the castle sitting at its center!
Tick.
Tick.
Alice shifted her stance and bent her knees. Ten feet away, then f?ive, four, three ...
Tick.
Tick.
As the stone hand ticked into place below her, Alice leapt forward. She swayed for a moment, but her years aboard the Wonder had given her superb balance, even on moving objects. Brushing her palms together, she strode conf?idently along the two-foot-wide path toward the castle.
DONG! Out of nowhere, a thunderous clang rolled across the void, vibrating the walkway beneath her. It felt like an earthquake, and Alice stumbled, her feet slipping off the stone path. Her f?ingers scrabbled furiously at the gritty surface as she slid over the edge.
At the last second, just when Alice thought time (or rather Time) would be the death of her, her hands found the cool stone. Whew, that was too close, she thought.
Shifting her weight, Alice started to pull herself up, but the second hand ticked just as she reached forward. She lost her grip, sliding backward until she was dangling from just one hand.Her eyes swept her surroundings as she looked for an escape.
There!
Far below her, she spotted what must be the minute hand. The second hand was ticking her closer to it, second by second. She just had to hang on a bit longer ....
Tick.
Her palm holding the stone edge began to sweat.
Tick.
She dug her f?ingers in, focusing all her energy on holding on tight. She’d never clung to time as desperately as she did then.
Tick.
Alice unfurled her f?ingers and let go as the second hand lined up with the minute hand. For a breathless second—she knew it was a second exactly, because the hand above ticked the time—she hung almost weightless in the air. Then she smacked down onto the rocky pebbles of the minute hand, landing hard on her bottom.
After taking another few seconds (tick, tick, tick) to catch her breath, she slowly got to her feet. Moving more carefully, she resumed her journey to the castle. Luckily, the minute hand was more stable and a good deal wider, and no more gongs rang out.
At the end of the walkway, she clambered up a set of steps that looked like melted black stone. Soon the huge gates of the castle stood before her.
Alice stepped up to the door and leaned her body into it.
CRRREEEEEAAAAAAK. With a groan of protest from the hinges, the door swung open.
Beyond it lay a massive hallway with gigantic carved columns soaring toward an arched ceiling. Staring in wonder, Alice passed through them. There were stairways and walkways all over the place.
Letting out a loud squeal, the columns next to her turned. Their bases were actually cogs! The movement set off a chain reaction, rotating enormous gears that sank halfway into the f?loor.
All around her, the tools of time wound and turned like parts of a well-oiled machine. At the end of the hallway, another immense door loomed. Alice pushed her way into the next room.
Built on the same grandiose scale as the rest of Time’s castle, the throne room was a vast obsidian chamber. Straight in front of her, a large staircase led up to a raised pedestal with a throne. A shaft of light pierced down from directly above the throne.
The man of the hour—and day, and week, and year—was sprawled on the throne. Dark, bushy mutton chops stood out against his pale skin, and a tall black headpiece rose majestically from the top of his head. Sticking out from both sides of his fur-lined cloak were enormous sculpted shoulder pads, almost like wings, which gave his torso an hourglass shape. One of his gloved hands clutched a black scepter, and his eyes were shut tight.
Alice had not expected to f?ind Time sleeping on the job, but then again, it wasn’t like he was ever really off the clock. And he had to sleep some time, she supposed.
Then, out of nowhere, Time seemed to jolt awake. Alice practically heard a boing of springs and coils jerking his body upright. She took an involuntary step back as his silver eyes f?ixed on her. Gathering her conf?idence, she cleared her throat and swept forward.
“Good day, sir,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you might have time to speak with me?”
Time chuckled to himself. “Time?” he said. “I have all the time in the world, young lady.” He waved his hand languidly in the air. His leather vest creaked as he leaned forward with sudden intensity. “The question is ... will I spare any for you?”
“That is the question, sir,” Alice replied politely.
“Do you promise to be amusing?” Time asked.
“I don’t know.” Alice’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s rather a serious subject.”
“Well, I am a rather serious person. For I am Time. The Inf?inite.” His eyes focused on something above Alice’s head, as though he was imagining a crowd of admirers. “The Immort—Wait ... what time is it?”
Bringing her hand to her mouth, Alice muff?led a laugh. It was a rather odd question coming from Time himself. Luckily, Time was busy and didn’t notice her reaction.
He f?lung open his vest and peered downward to where, in place of a heart, a beautiful clock ticked in his chest. Time tsked to himself.
“Hang it all! How inf?initely ironic! I’m going to be late!” he cried.
Without a second glance at Alice, he bounced out of his throne and charged toward a door, his long cloak f?lowing behind him. She ran after him, not wanting to lose Time.
“Keep up,” Time barked. “You have precisely sixty seconds in eighty-f?ive seconds’ time.” He squinted at her and nodded in the direction of her pocket. “Why do you carry that fallen soldier?” he asked.
Puzzled, Alice patted her pocket and drew out her father’s broken pocket watch. How had he known it was there? “This? It was my father’s,” she explained.
Time studied it brief?ly, then turned away. “A f?ine-looking instrument. Though I’m afraid its time has expired.”
She raised her chin. “My father was a great man. His watch reminds me that nothing is impossible. I wouldn’t part with it for anything in the world.”
“Everyone parts with everything eventually, my dear,” Time drawled.
Before she could respond, he spun and pushed through an intricately carved set of doors into yet another immense room.
“Behold! The Grand Clock of All Time!” he said proudly, stepping onto a balcony overlooking the chamber.
TICKTOCK, boomed the room, which was itself the clock. Gears and cogs of all sizes covered the f?loor. In the center of it all, sparks of light surrounded a spinning white orb. Without knowing how she knew, Alice recognized it as the Chronosphere.
As she watched, several small mechanical men clambered among the wheels below. Dressed in similar overalls, with various tools hanging around their waists, they seemed interchangeable—except for one, whose spectacles twinkled as he looked up at them. That specif?ic tinkerer hustled up the stairs to reach them.
Coming to a halt in front of Time, the man saluted crisply.
Time clapped his hands together. “Jolly good. Well done, Wilkins! Keep it up.”
Alice returned her gaze to the chamber below, where the Chronosphere crackled with energy.
Time noticed Alice looking but misinterpreted the direction of her gaze. He waved at the other men. “Oh, and these f?ine chaps with Wilkins here are my Seconds.”
Alice nodded, but Time was already moving toward the door. Lingering behind for a moment, she gazed over the Grand Clock, silently studying the Chronosphere. She had found it. Now Alice just had to persuade Time to let her borrow it for a while.
Weaving through a maze of corridors and stairways, she followed Time to a comfortable sitting room. Time plopped down into the tallest armchair. “Now,” he said. “Ask your question. You have one minute exactly.”
Alice dove in. “It’s about the Hatter, Tarrant Hightopp. You see, the Jabberwocky killed—”
Time’s eyes began to glaze over. He opened his vest and wound the second hand of his heart clock forward. As he did so, Alice almost tripped over her words as they poured out of her.
“—his family on the Horunvendush Day. And I’d like your permission If you please to borrow the Chronosphere—”
Alice fell silent as Time tensed and held up a commanding hand.
“How do you know about the Chronosphere?” Time asked. His face grave, he leaned in toward her.
“That wasn’t a minute!” Alice protested.
“What do you know of the Chronosphere?” Time’s voice rose and his eyebrows drew together menacingly.
“I’d like to borrow it,” Alice said. She clasped her f?ingers together in front of her to keep her hands still ... and to remind herself to stay polite.
“Borrow it? Borrow it?!” He leapt to his feet with a cry of outrage, and his moustache bristled, as though it, too, were offended. “The Chronosphere powers Time oneself! It is not something to be ‘borrowed,’ like a croquet mallet or a pair of hedge clippers!”
“But—” Alice began.
Time whirled and stalked to the door. He jerked it open and pointed imperiously to the hall.
“You are asking me to violate the logic of the Universe,” he hissed. “The answer is no.”
“But—” Alice tried again.
“You are not amusing,” Time said. “Good day.”
It was as useless as arguing with the bullheaded Hamish, yet Alice persisted. “But I need the Chronosphere, sir! I need to save my friend!” Couldn’t he see how important this was?
“Wilkins!” Time bellowed. The foreman hurried up. “Escort this trespasser out, if you’d be so kind.”
Alice pressed her lips together to hold back what she wanted to say. Instead, she bowed politely and said, “Yes, sir. Sorry to bother you.”
As she passed in front of him, Time addressed her once more. “Young lady.” She paused to look at him. “You cannot change the past,” he said in a gentler tone. “It always was. It always will be. Although, I daresay, you might learn something from it.”
“Thank you for your time, sir,” Alice said simply. Ducking her head, she turned to follow Wilkins before Time could see the spark of def?iance in her eyes.
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