TIME QUAKE by Linda Buckley-Archer

TIME QUAKE by Linda Buckley-Archer

Author:Linda Buckley-Archer [Buckley-Archer, Linda]
Language: rus
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Children's
Published: 2009-10-15T06:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Law of Temporal Osmosis

In which Kate makes a scientific

discovery and keeps company with

The Tar Man on his boat

It took Kate an unbearably long time to extricate her hand from Sir Richard's grasp. He felt like a corpse: cold, stiff and unresponsive. She had to tear back his fingers with every last scrap of her strength until she went red in the face and her forehead became drenched in sweat. Finally she managed to slide her hand out. It seemed to her that her ability to interact with the physical world was diminishing with each new episode of fast-forwarding. Relative to her own mass, everything she touched now seemed so much denser. It was as if she were losing her strength in this dimension - a butterfly beating its wings against a windowpane. Just how fast must she now be hurtling through time?

Kate was anxious to get out of the room. In the same way as London pavements bear witness to the passage of an underground train tens of feet below, the air that she breathed transmitted Sir Richard's pulsing cry even though it was no longer audible. Glancing around the Tar Man's sitting room, she tried to avoid letting her gaze settle on Sir Richard's arm or the expression on his face, or the pool of someone's blood under the table. The room was furnished with taste and care, which both surprised and intrigued Kate. The surface of the table was strewn with ancient-looking objects. Kate wondered if the Tar Man liked to collect beautiful things, or whether this was merely where he stashed his stolen goods. Most of the items would have looked at home in the British Museum - amulets and urns, small statues of athletes and wood nymphs and the like. There was a tinderbox, too, similar to the one she had often seen Gideon use to light fires.

Stepping over Sir Richard's sprawling legs, Kate hurried out of the door, down the stairs, past the old gentleman and the Parson, and stood looking down into the mouth of the trapdoor. The yawning hole was pitch-black and smelled bad. The candle was still burning in the centre of the hall and Kate decided that she would have to requisition it. After all, the old gentleman and the Parson would not miss it - it would be back again within a blink of one of their eyes. But when she crouched down, expecting to pick it up in one hand, she found that she needed two. It was a peculiar sensation: it was not that it felt enormously heavy, it was more a case of her own flesh seeming insubstantial compared with the density of the candlestick. After a short while she felt as if her arms might tear like tissue paper if she didn't put the candlestick down. Kate placed it back on the floor. Trying to convince herself that her flesh did not look as fragile as it felt, Kate held out her hands in



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