The End of All Songs

"It is so hard for me to believe that."

They found Brannart Morphail, at last, in unusual finery, a mustard-coloured cloak hanging in pleats from his hump, tassels swinging from the most unlikely places on his person, his medical boot glittering with spangles. He seemed in an almost jolly mood as he limped beside My Lady Charlotina of Above-the-Ground (her new domicile).

"Aha!" cried Brannart, sighting the two. "My nemesis, young Jherek Carnelian!" The jocularity, if forced, was at least well-meant. "And the cause of all our problems, the beautiful Amelia Underwood."

"Carnelian, now," she said.

"Congratulations! You take the same step, then?"

"As the Duke of Queens," agreed Jherek amicably, "and Mistress Christia. And Werther and Lord Mongrove…"

"No, no, no! As My Lady Charlotina and myself!"

"Ah!"

My Lady Charlotina fluttered lashes fully two inches long and produced a winsome smile. In apple-green tupperware crinoline and brown slate bonnet she had some difficulty moving even at the relatively slow pace of her husband-to-be.

"You proposed rapidly enough, you dog!" said Jherek to the scientist.

"She proposed," Brannart grunted, momentarily returned to his usual mood. "I owe my rescue to her."

"Not to Jagged?"

"It was she who went to get Jagged's help."

"You were attempting a jump backwards through time, eh?" Jherek said.

"I did my best. Given half a chance, I might have improved this disastrous situation. But I tried to move within too limited a period and, as always happens, I got caught in a kind of short-circuit. Proving, irrefutably, of course, the truth of Morphail's Law."

"Of course," they both consented.

"I suppose the Law still applies, at present," Amelia suggested.

"At present, and always."

"Always?"

"Well —" Brannart rubbed his warted nose — "in essence. If Jagged recycles a seven-day period, then the Law will probably apply to the time contained within that span, d'you see."

"Aha." Amelia was disappointed, though Jherek did not know why. "There is no other means of leaving this world, once the circuit is completed?"

"None at all. Isolated chronologically as well as spacially. By rights this planet has no business existing at all."

"So we gather," said Jherek.

"It defies all logic."

"You have ever made a practice of that, have you not?" said Amelia.

"Have we, dear?" said My Lady Charlotina of Above-the-Ground.

"What I was taught to call logic, at any rate." Amelia swiftly compromised.

"This will mean the death of Science," said Brannart cheerfully. "Oh, yes. The death of Science, right enough. No more enquiry, no more investigation, no more analysis, no more interpretation of phenomena. Nothing for me to do."

"There are functions of the cities which might be restored," said Amelia helpfully.

"Functions?"

"Old sciences which could be re-discovered. There are all kinds of possibilities, I should have thought."

"Hm," said Brannart. Gnarled fingers crossed a pitted chin. "True."

"Memory banks which need their wits sharpening," Jherek told him. "It would take a brilliant scientist to restore them…"

"True," repeated Brannart. "Well, perhaps I can do something in that direction, certainly."

My Lady Charlotina patted his pleated hump. "I shall be so proud of you, Brannart. And what a contribution you could make to social life, if some of those machines could be got to reveal their secrets."

"Jagged will be so jealous!" Amelia added.

"Jealous?" Brannart brightened still further. "I suppose he will."

"Hideously," said Jherek.

"Well, you of all people would know, Jherek." The scientist seemed to do a little jig on his spangled boot. "You think so?"

"Without question!"

"Hm."

A small irascible voice said from just behind Jherek: "Ah! There you are posterior-visage. I've been looking for you!"

It was Rokfrug. He continued heavily: "If the ladies will excuse us, I'd like a middle-of-the-leg word with you, sediment-nostril."

"I have already apologized, Lieutenant Rokfrug," Brannart Morphail told him. "I see no reason to go on with this —"

"You offered me rapine, loot, arson, toe-pillage, and all I get is to be a member of a smelly male harem…"

"It was not my fault. You did not have to agree to the marriage!" Brannart began to back away.

"If it's the only way to get a bit of jointing hoo-hoo, what else am I supposed to do? Come here!"

Brannart broke into a hobbling run, pursued by Lieutenant Rokfrug who was quickly tripped by the passing Lord Jagged, who picked him up, dusted him down, pointed him in the wrong direction and continued towards them.

Brannart, followed by his bride-to-be, disappeared behind a cluster of booths, while Rokfrug vanished into a candy-striped tent. Lord Jagged seemed content.

"So the peace is kept." He smiled at Jherek and Amelia. "And a certain balance is maintained."