But the Gothic village was deserted. She searched every turret, every hall into which she could squeeze her body, and she called their names until her voice cracked. At last she clambered back into her car. She recalled that Miss Ming was still resident at Doctor Volospion's menagerie.

"Doctor Volospion's," she told the car.

Doctor Volospion's dwelling stood upon several cliffs of white marble and blue basalt, its various wings linked by slender, curving bridges of the same materials. Minarets, domes, conical towers, skyscraper blocks, sloping roofs and windows filled with some reflective but transparent material gave it an appearance of considerable antiquity, though it was actually only a few days old. Dafnish Armatuce had seen it once before, but she had never visited it, and now her difficulty lay in discovering the appropriate entrance.

It took many panic-filled minutes of circling about before she was hailed, from the roof of one of the skyscrapers, by Doctor Volospion himself, resplendent in rippling green silks, his skin coloured to match. "Dafnish Armatuce! Have you come to accept my tryst? O, rarest of beauties, my heart is cast already — see — at your feet." And he gestured, twisting a ring. She looked down, kicking the pulsing, bloody thing aside. "I seek my Snuffles," she cried. "And Miss Ming. Are they here?"

"They were. To arrange your surprise. You'll be pleased. You'll be pleased. But have patience — come to me, splendid one."

"Surprise? What have they done?"

"Oh, I cannot tell you. It would spoil it for you. I was able to help. I once specialized in engineering, you know. Sweet Orb Mace owes much to me."

"Explain yourself, Doctor Volospion."

"Perhaps, when the confidences of the bedchamber are exchanged…"

"Where did they go?"

"Back. To Canaria. It was for you. Miss Ming was overjoyed by what I was able to accomplish. The work of a moment, of course, but the skill is in the swiftness." With a wave of his hand he changed his costume to roaring red. The light of the flames flooded his face with shadow. But she had left him.

As she fled back to Canaria, she thought she heard Doctor Volospion's laughter; and she knew that her mind could not be her own if she detected mockery in his mirth.

On her right the insubstantial buildings of Djer streamed past, writhing with gloomy colour, muttering to themselves as they strove to recall some forgotten function, some lost experience, re-creating, from a memory partially disintegrated, indistinct outlines of buildings, beasts or men, calling out fragments of song or scientific formulae; almost piteous, this place, which had once served Man proudly, in the spirit with which she served the Armatuce, so that she permitted herself a pang of understanding, for she and the city shared a common grief.

"Ah, how much better it might have been had we stayed there," she said aloud.

The city cried out to her as if in reply, as if imploringly:

The world is too much with us; late and soon ,

Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:

Little we see in Nature that is ours;

We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

She did not understand the meaning of the words, but she replied: "You could have helped me, but I was afraid of you. I feared your variety, your wealth." Then the car had borne her on, and soon Canaria's graceful cage loomed into view, glittering in sparse sunshine, its gold all pale.

With tense impatience she stood stiffly in the car while it docked, until she could leap free, running up the great ramp, through the dwarfing portals, down halls which echoed a magnified voice, calling for her boy.

It was when she had pushed open the heavy doors of Lord Jagged's Hall of Antiquities that she saw three figures standing at the far end, beneath a wall mounted with a hundred examples of heavy Dawn Age furniture. They appeared to be discussing a large piece in dark wood, set with mirrors, brass and mother-of-pearl, full of small drawers and pigeonholes from which imitation doves poked their little heads and crooned. Elsewhere were displayed fabrics, cooking utensils, vehicles, weapons, technical apparatus, entertainment structures, musical instruments, clothing from mankind's first few thousand years of true planetary dominance.

The three she saw were all adults, and she guessed initially that they might, themselves, be exhibits, but as she approached she saw, with lifting heart, that one of them was Lord Jagged and another was Miss Ming. Her anger with Miss Ming turned to annoyance, and she experienced growing relief. The third figure she did not recognize. He was typical of those who inhabited the End of Time; a foppish, overdressed, posturing youth, doubtless some acquaintance of Lord Jagged's.

"Miss Ming!"

Three heads turned.

"You took Snuffles. Where is he now?"

"We went to visit Doctor Volospion, dearest Dafnish. We thought you would not notice. You yourself gave me the idea when you told me to remind Snuffles of his destiny. It's my present to you." She fluttered winsome lashes. "Because I care so much for you. A tribute of my admiration for the wonderful way you've tried to do your best for your son. Well, Dafnish, I have put your misery at an end. No more sacrifices for you!"

Dafnish Armatuce did not listen, for the tone was as familiar to her as it was distasteful. "Where is Snuffles now?" she repeated.

The youth, standing behind Miss Ming, laughed, but Lord Jagged was frowning.

Miss Ming's oversweet smile spread across her pallid face. "I have done you a favour, Dafnish. It's a surprise, dear." Two clammy hands tried to fold themselves around one of Dafnish's, but she pulled away. Miss Ming had to be content with clinging to an arm. "I know you'll be pleased. It's what you've looked forward to, what you've worked for. And it means real freedom for us."

"Freedom? What do you mean? Where is my Snuffles?"

Again the stranger laughed, spreading his arms wide, showing off exotic garments — blue moleskin tabard stitched with silver, shirt of brown velvet with brocaded cuffs, puffed out at the shoulders to a height of at least two feet, hose which curled with snakes of varicoloured light, boots whose feet were the heads of living, glaring dragons, the whole smelling strongly of musk — and pouting in his peacock pride. "Here, mama!"

She stared.

The youth waltzed forward, the smile languid, the eyes half-closed. "I am your son! It is my destiny come to fulfilment at last. Miss Ming has made a man of me!"

Miss Ming preened herself, murmuring with false modesty: "With Doctor Volospion's help. My idea — his execution."

Dafnish Armatuce swayed on her feet as she stared. The face was longer, more effeminate, the eyes large, darker, luminous, the hair pure blond; but something of Snuffles, something of herself, was still there. There were emeralds in his lobes. His brows had been slimmed and their line exaggerated; the lips, though naturally red, were too full and too bright.

Dafnish Armatuce groaned and her fingers fled to cover her face. A hand touched her shoulder. She shook it off and Lord Jagged apologized.

Miss Ming's voice celebrated the spirit of comfiness: "It's a shock, of course, at first, until you understand what it means. You don't have to die!"

"Die?" She looked with loathing upon Miss Ming's complacent features.

"He is a man and you are free. Snuffles explained something of your customs to me."

"Customs! It is more than custom, Miss Ming. How can this be? What of his life-right? He has no soul!"

"Such superstitions," declared Miss Ming, "are of little consequence at the End of Time."

"I have not transferred the life-right! He remains a shadow until that day! But even that is scarcely important at this moment — look what you have made of him! Look!"

"You really are very silly, mother," said Snuffles, his voice softening in something close to kindness. "They can do anything here. They can change their shapes to whatever they wish. They can be children, if they want to be, or beasts, or even plants. Whatever fancy dictates. I am the same personality, but I have grown up, at last! Sixty years was too long. I have earned my maturity."

"You remain an infant!" she spoke through her teeth. "Like your fatuous and self-called friend. Miss Ming, he must be restored to his proper body. We leave, as soon as we may, for Armatuce."

Miss Ming was openly incredulous and condescending. "Leave? To be killed or stranded?"

Snuffles affected superciliousness. "Leave?" he echoed. "For Armatuce? Mother, it's impossible. Besides, I have no intention of returning." He leaned against the rusted remains of a Nash Rambler and shared (or thought he shared) a conspiratorial wink with Miss Ming and Lord Jagged. "I shall stay."

"But —" her lips were dry — "your life-right…"

"Here, I do not need my life-right. Keep it, mother. I do not want your personality, your ridiculous prejudices. Why should I wish to inherit them, when I have seen so much? Here, at the End of Time, I can be myself — an individual, not an Armatuce!"

"His destiny?" Dafnish rounded on Miss Ming. "You thought I meant that? "

"Oh, you…" Miss Ming's blue eyes, bovine and dazed, began to fill.

"I could change him to his original shape," began Lord Jagged, but Dafnish Armatuce shook her head in misery. "It is too late, Lord Jagged. What is there left?"

"But this is intolerable for you." There was a hint of unusual emotion in Lord Jagged's voice. "This woman is not one of us. She acts without wit or intelligence. There is no resonance in these actions of hers."

"You would still say evil does not exist here?"

"If vulgar imitation of art is 'evil', then perhaps I agree with you."

Dafnish Armatuce was drained. She could not move. Her shoulder twitched a little in what might have been a shrug. "Responsibility leaves me," she said, "and I feel the loss. Who knows but that I did use it as armour against experience." She sighed, addressing her son. "If adult you be, then make an adult's decision. Be an Armatuce, recall your Maxims, consider your Duty." She was pleading and she could not keep her voice steady. "Will you return with me to Armatuce? To Serve?"

"To serve fools? That would make a fool of me, would it not? Look about you! This is the way the race is destined to live, mother. Here —" he spread decorated hands to indicate the world — "here is my destiny, too!"

"Oh, Snuffles…" Her head fell forward and her body trembled with her silent sobbing. " Snuffles! "

"That name's offensive to me, mother. Snuffles is dead. I am now the Margrave of Wolverhampton, who shall wander the world, impressing his magnificence on All! My own choice, the name, with Miss Ming's assistance concerning the details. A fine name, an excellent ambition. Thus I take my place in society, my only duty to delight my friends, my only maxim 'Extravagance In Everything!' and I shall give service to myself alone! I shall amaze everyone with my inventions and events. You shall learn to be proud of me, mama!"

She shook her head. "All my pride is gone."

Several ancient clocks began to chime at once, and through the din she heard Lord Jagged's voice murmuring in her ear. "The fabric of Time is particularly weak now. Your chances are at their best."

She knew that this was mercy, but she sighed. "If he came, what point? My whole life has been dedicated to preparing for the moment when my son would become an adult, taking my knowledge, my experience, my Duty. Shall I present our Armatuce with — with what he is now?"

The youth had heard some of this and now he raised a contemptuous shoulder to her while Miss Ming said urgently: "You cannot go! You must not! I did it for you, so that you could be happy. So that we could enjoy a full friendship. There is no obstacle."

Dafnish's laughter drove the woman back. Fingers in mouth, Miss Ming cracked a nail with her teeth, and the shadow of terror came and went across her face.

Dafnish spoke in an undertone. "You have killed my son, Miss Ming. You have made of my whole life a travesty. Whether that shell you call 'my son' survives or not, whether it should be moulded once more into the original likeness, it is of no importance any longer. I am the Armatuce and the Armatuce is me. You have poisoned at least one branch of that tree which is the Armatuce, whose roots bind the world, but I am not disconsolate; I know other branches will grow. Yet I must protect the roots, lest they be poisoned. I have a responsibility now which supersedes all others. I must return. I must warn my folk never to send another Armatuce to the End of Time. It is evident that our time-travelling experiments threaten our survival, our security. You assure me that — that the boy can live without his life-right, that remaining part of my being which, at my death, I would pass on to him, so that he could live. Very well, I leave him to you and depart."

Miss Ming wailed: "You can't! You'll be killed! I love you!"

The youth held some kind of hayfork at arm's length, inspecting its balance and workmanship, apparently unconcerned. Dafnish took a step towards him. "Snuffles…"

"I am not 'Snuffles'."

"Then, stranger, I bid you farewell." She had recovered something of her dignity. Her small body was still tense, her oval face still pale. She controlled herself. She was an Armatuce again.

"You'll be killed! " shrieked Miss Ming, but Dafnish ignored her. "At best Time will fling you back to us. What good will the journey do you?"

"The Armatuce shall be warned. There is a chance of that?" The question was for Lord Jagged.

"A slight one. Only because the Laws of Time have already been transgressed. I have learned something of a great conjunction, of other layers of reality which intersect with ours, which suggests you might return, for a moment, anyway, since the Laws need not be so firmly enforced."

"Then I go now."

He raised a warning hand. "But, Dafnish Armatuce, Miss Ming is right. There is little probability Time will let you survive."

"I must try. I presume that Sweet Orb Mace, who has my time ship, knows nothing of this disruption, will take no precautions to keep me in your Age?"

"Oh, certainly! Nothing."

"Then I thank you, Lord Jagged, for your hospitality. I'll require it no longer and you may let Snuffles go to Doctor Volospion's. You are a good man. You would make a worthy Armatuce."

He bowed. "You flatter me…"

"Flattery is unknown in Armatuce. Farewell."

She began to walk back the way she had come, past row upon row, rank upon rank of antiquities, past the collected mementoes of a score of Ages, as if, already, she marched, resolute and noble, through Time itself.

Lord Jagged seemed about to speak, but then he fell silent, his expression unusually immobile, his eyes narrowed as he watched her march. Slowly, he reached a fine hand to his long cheek and his fingers explored his face, just below the eye, as if he sought something there but failed to find it.

Miss Ming blew her nose and bawled:

"Oh, I've ruined everything. She was looking forward to the day you grew up, Snuffles! I know she was!"

"Margrave," he murmured, to correct her. He made as if to take a step in pursuit, but changed his mind. He smoothed the pile of his tabard. "She'll be back."

"She'll realize her mistake?" Saucer eyes begged comfort from their owner's creation.

The Margrave of Wolverhampton had found a mirror in a silver frame. He was pleased with what he saw. He spoke absently to his companion.

"Possibly. And if she should reach Armatuce, she'll be better off. You have me for a friend, instead. Shall I call you mother?"

Mavis Ming uttered a wordless yelp. Impatiently the Margrave of Wolverhampton stroked her lank hair. "She would never know how to enjoy herself. No Armatuce would. I am the first. Why should sacrifices be made pointlessly?"

Lord Jagged turned and confronted him. Lord Jagged was grim. "She has much, your mother, that is of value. You shall never have that now."

"My inheritance, you mean?" The Margrave's sneer was not altogether accomplished. "My life-right? What use is it here? Thanks, old man, but no thanks!" It was one of Miss Ming's expressions. The Margrave acknowledged the origin by grinning at her for approval. She laughed through tears, but then, again, was seized:

"What if she dies!"

"She would have had to give it up, for me, when we returned. She loses nothing."

"She passes her whole life to you?" said Jagged, revelation dawning. "Her whole life?"

"Yes. In Armatuce but not here. I don't need the life-force. There she would be absorbed into me, then I would change, becoming a man, but incorporating her 'soul'. What was of use to me in her body would also be used. Nothing is wasted in Armatuce. But this way is much better, for now only a small part of her is in me — the part she infused when I was made — and I become an individual. We both have freedom, though it will take her time to realize it."

"You are symbiotes?"

"Of sorts, yes."

"But surely," said Jagged, "if she dies before she transfers the life-right to you, you are still dependent on the life-force emanating from her being?"

"I would be, in Armatuce. But here, I'm my own man."

Miss Ming said accusingly, "You should have tried to stop her, Lord Jagged."

"You said yourself she was free, Miss Ming."

"Not to destroy herself!" A fresh wail.

"But to become your slave?"

"Oh, that's nonsense, Lord Jagged." Another noisy blowing of the nose. "Your trouble is, you don't understand real emotions at all."

His smile as he looked down at her was twisted and strange.

"I loved her," said Miss Ming defiantly.