“Because I found out what he is.” Martha looked at me suspiciously. “Did you know, Eddie? You always know things you’re not supposed to . . . No, of course not. You would have told me, something like that. Come into my private rooms, Edwin. I don’t feel safe talking out here; you never know who might be listening, these days.”

She led me through into the bedroom. The curtains were still drawn, keeping the room comfortably gloomy. Alistair was still lying flat on his back in bed, still wrapped up in bandages like a mummy. A single blanket covered him, hardly rising at all as he breathed. He didn’t react at all as Martha and I came in and shut the door. Martha looked at him expressionlessly.

“Don’t worry; he’s asleep. Doesn’t even know we’re here. He sleeps most of the time now. It’s getting harder and harder to wake him long enough to take his nourishment. He really should be down in the infirmary, but I hate to think of him lying there alone, with tubes in him. Everyone else is just waiting for him to die, but they don’t know my Alistair. He’s strong. A lot stronger than anyone ever gave him credit for. You’ll see; one day he’ll just wake up, and be himself again. Like a butterfly emerging from his cocoon. Sit down, Edwin.”

We sat down on comfortable chairs by the empty fireplace, facing each other. The Matriarch studied me intently for a long moment.

“You look . . . different, Edwin. Older. But then, you’ve been through so much, haven’t you? You’ve grown up. I knew it would happen eventually. It looks good on you . . . But so much has happened while you were away. A year and a half, Edwin! Where have you been all this time?”

“Travelling in time, Grandmother. I went into the future, and found a mighty warrior to bring back to aid the family. I was supposed to return only a few seconds after I left, but . . .”

The Matriarch sniffed loudly. “The Time Train. I might have known. There are good reasons why we never use the stupid thing. I could have told you it wasn’t dependable, but you didn’t ask anyone, did you? You were so sure you knew better . . . I should have ordered it dismantled years ago, but for this nagging feeling that someday the family might just need it . . .”

“What happened to you, Grandmother?” I said patiently.