Flirting With Forever by Gwyn Cready (new books to read TXT) 📕

administrative wing. When she got to the office door, she stopped. A narrow strip of light was visible along the carpet.

Jeanne hadn’t left the lights on, and even if she had left them on, she knew they stil should be off. To save energy, the lights worked on movement. When you turned a light on, it stayed on as long as there was movement in the room.

After ten minutes of no movement, it went off.

Slowly Jeanne angled herself to look in the door’s side window.

A tal , skinny bald man stood, slightly dazed, peering at Cam’s books and rubbing his head, and the fact that he seemed to be nursing a broken nose would have been far more interesting to Jeanne if he hadn’t also been wearing puffy wool culottes and the second Adam Ant shirt she’d seen in the last three hours.

“No. Freaking. Way.”

33

Peter saw the shadow cross his table and looked up.

“‘Rage Against the Machine’? A bold sentiment, Mertons, for a man clawing his way to the top of the Time-jump Accountants’ Guild.” He shoved a chair open with his foot and gestured toward it, then, turning to the coffeehouse’s publican, cal ed, “Aldo, one of these marvelous coffees for my friend.”

“Dammit, Peter, the Guild is going to be furious.”

Mertons wiped his glasses on his shirt. “You’ve gone too far.”

Peter looked at the sticklike legs extending from the shiny blue drawers his friend was wearing. “Your calves are admirable, to be sure, but next time might I suggest slightly longer hose? Either that or a considerably warmer cloak—

especial y in this weather.” He nodded toward the rain sheeting down beyond the shop window that framed the dark street.

“This is no time for a joke. They have already issued a condemnation.”

“I reel from the blow. Speaking of blows, I hope mine did not importune you too much. It seemed the most expedient path at the time.”

Mertons grunted and brushed several drops of water from his brow. Peter hadn’t expected him quite so soon, though he had already decided his arrival would not change his plan.

“You have no idea the power they wield,” Mertons continued. “Would you care to be reborn as an Assyrian slave? Or perhaps one of the soldiers in the Second Punic War? Or here?” Mertons gave his outfit a look of mild disgust, and when Peter didn’t respond he added, “You wil never paint again. And they can ensure you remember that you did. Peter, they can ensure you remember everything

… forever.”

Peter felt the budding of a smal fear. He did not know the ful extent of the Guild’s power, though he had heard they had a tendency toward vindictiveness when crossed.

While he would sacrifice any happiness his own future might hold, there was one thing he would not risk. “Can they touch Ursula?” he asked hesitantly.

The accountant col apsed into the chair beside him and sighed. For a long moment he said nothing.

“Mertons?”

“I don’t know, Peter. I … I am not aware of it happening before. Such an act would be quite complicated and is technical y beyond the purview of the Guild.”

“But?”

“But I did hear a rumor that one of the Guild members suggested it.”

“Bloody bastards.” A cool, focused anger formed in Peter’s gut.

“Peter, you have no idea what you’ve done. Travel to the future is not like travel to the past. The past is set. It’s known. Changing it takes enormous effort. Travel to the future is different. The factors are far more fluid, more susceptible to change, and a very little push can have a very large effect.”

“Then it looks as if I’l have to do my pushing with care.”

“Dammit, this isn’t some prank. You are not a time-jump accountant. You have no training. You haven’t run a single simulation for this era. You haven’t the faintest idea what the parameters are to which you must adhere.”

“What impact is her book going to have? Is the Guild not concerned about that?”

“The new vector she’s started down was formed in the past, a place over which we have a modicum of control. I told you, we don’t rol dice with the future. The parameters specifical y forbid—”

“Stuff the parameters. She’s writing about Ursula. I’m going to