I took another sip of my tea. “The dream,” I said. “What happened in the dream?”
Silas looked at me straight in the eye. “I died.”
It was like the world vanished for a second, and I was falling and falling, all the while sitting down.
“What?”
“In the dream, I died,” said Silas, and I could have sworn he looked sad just now. Sorry. “But before I died,youwere there.”
“I…did I…did Ikillyou?” I choked, shocked still at his easy confession.
“Not at all!” Silas chuckled a little. “No, no, of course not. You only asked questions.”
Questions.
“Oh.” I took another sip of my tea, and I was no longer falling. “What kind of questions did I ask?”
“Not ordinary ones,” said Silas, finishing his croissant, before he took his tea in his hands again. He looked so at ease sitting there in the armchair, talking to me. Like we really were friends for a lifetime, not weeks. “You asked where the numbers came from on the records kept. Not the polished ones, but thetrueones. You wanted to know who measures time before it’s made presentable for the world.”
“Except I already have that answer to that—the Great Clock.” That’s what the Great Clock did, ironed out chaotic time and pressed it into hours for us to use.
“Oh, you didn’t think so in the dream, though. You were annoyed because nobody dared to give you a real answer,” Silas said, and the way he looked at me spoke volumes. “You also asked about who is allowed to see and edit those records. You asked a lot about how distribution is measured.”
Something came in front of my mind’s eye, something we’d seen just yesterday. “Timeometer.” Silas said nothing at that, only took a long sip of his tea. “That actually sounds more like anauditthan a dream.” Spades had a knack for audits.
He laughed under his breath. “I thought so, too, and in the dream I told you these questions weren’t necessary, that the Great Clock does all of the work for us.”
My heart beat steadily still. “And what did I say?”
“You asked another question.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You asked who sees the Great Clock while it works.”
Suddenly the air in my room felt lighter. Colder. Less compressed.
I set my cup down. “That’s… oddly specific.”
Silas nodded. “That’s why I thought you should know. You were very persistent. You kept asking about that device that listens to time, and who could build this thing or that.”
My breath caught, just slightly. “And did you have an answer for me?”
Silas leaned back, expression serious. Almostgrave. “In the dream? No,” he said. “But you did learn where to look next.”
Goose bumps over every inch of my skin. “Which was?”
“Records. Numbers,” he said. “Numbers never lie.”
A moment of perfect silence, like we were both suspended, out of Time’s reach. Eyes locked, breathing even, hearts beating as one.
I knew he wasn’t talking about an actual dream. I just didn’t know what exactly he was trying to tell me.
“Why are you telling me this, Silas?” Why not Reggie or March?
Or had he already told them?
He put his cup down with a smile. “Isn’t it amusing how you didn’t once ask what happened to me?”
I frowned. “What?”
“In the dream,” he said gently, “You didn’t ask what happened to me.”
