Frustration formed a tight knot in my chest. “Please, I need to know if it’s safe to go back through the stones.”
“Yes, yes,” the chronomancer said, still opening and closing drawers. “Everyone wants things they shouldn’t. Time isn’t a river. It’s a web, and a sticky one at that.” He paused, his shoulders lifting. “Or maybe it’s a rapids. Still just as deadly to flies.”
Tavish’s growl drowned the clanging and ticking of the clocks. “I don’t like riddles, witch. Will you help us or not?”
Albie shot Tavish a nervous look.
The chronomancer turned and flung a small, velvet bag onto the workbench, where it landed among gears, tiny screws, and springs the size of a thumbnail. Tied with a golden cord, the bag was the same plum color as the chronomancer’s coat.
“One rule,” the chronomancer said, his gaze suddenly sharp as he focused on me. “Donottry to change the past.”
“What?” I gasped, my mind racing.
“You wanted a spell, yes?”
“Yes,” Albie said.
I put out a forestalling hand. “Wait.”
The chronomancer gestured to the bag. “Take it or leave it. I’ve got shit to do.”
Tavish stepped in front of me. “Watch your tongue,” he told the chronomancer.
I shoved around Tavish. “There’s a spell in that bag?”
The chronomancer looked at me like I’d just said something incredibly stupid. “Do you want to go home or not?”
“Yes! More than anything.”
“Then have at it.” He lifted another warning finger. “But no messing with the past. You start fiddling with things, and large-scale disaster is almost guaranteed. We’ll have a whole Butterfly Effect situation on our hands.”
“A what?” Tavish asked.
The chronomancer jumped, his eyes widening as if he’d just noticed Tavish for the first time. “You’re awfully large.”
“How do I know if I’m messing with the past?” I pressed, my heart pounding.
A clock behind the chronomancer chimed. He yanked a pocket watch from inside his coat. “I knew I was missing something.” Shoving the watch away, he snatched the velvet bag from the workbench and tossed it at me.
I yelped as I caught it.
“I have to go,” he said. “And, listen, I don’t know how many jumps that thing contains. If you mess it up the first time, you might not get many chances to fix it.”
My stomach pitched. “What do you mean by jumps?”
An ear-splitting noise blared, the sound like the old bedside clock Mum bought Malcolm when he kept sleeping through our morning tutoring sessions.
“Gods, I’m late,” the chronomancer said. The alarm rose, the sound piercing my skull. Beside me, Albie winced and clutched at his head.
“Albie?” Tavish said loudly.
The chronomancer hurried toward a doorway that appeared in a gap between wall clocks. “Don’t just stand there,” he called over his shoulder. “Open it!”
Albie doubled over, his glasses slipping as he grabbed his head. The clocks and the cottage began to dissolve. Tavish gave me a frazzled look.
“Open that bag!”
Heart pounding, I fumbled with the string.
