The hermit listened him out in silence. Then he said, “Time is the medium through which we travel, stranger. But our journeys start, and so they end.” He looked at the Stranger with compassion. “That first step must have a corresponding last.”

“All I seek is medicine!”

“All you seek is escape,” the hermit said. He removed his robe then, and the Stranger saw that the hermit’s body was made of many shards of mirror. As the Stranger watched they reflected at him the many places of the Escapement, so that he saw the sun set over the snow-capped Maskelyne range and the Copper Fields below, and he saw the acrobats soar high above the Fratellini plains, and a storm of glowing ichthys fish as it burst over the Doldrums. And he saw farther still, to the far end of a hospital corridor, where a man in a janitor’s uniform held a mop in his hands.

“And escape is futile,” the hermit said. There was infinite regret in his voice.

The man had gone to the bathroom again. When he opened the door he saw the janitor on the far end of the corridor. He stood and stared. A lake of water had spilled over the parquet floor. It separated him from his destination. The janitor came walking towards him, his shoes stepping in the water, plop, plop, plop. The man tensed, with his hands by his sides. It was nighttime, there was a darkness behind the window. The janitor stopped. He stared back at the man. The moment lengthened.

The man took a step, and then another. His feet landed in the water. The janitor did not move out of his way. The man said, Excuse me.

The janitor did not reply.

Excuse me! the man said, a little sharply. There was a plant growing in a flowerpot on the far side of the corridor, by the dark window. Let me pass.

The janitor did not reply. Perhaps he didn’t understand. His mop was stationed at an angle. The man was trapped unless the janitor moved aside.

Please, the man said, helplessly. I must pass.

To pass the water you must pay the toll.

Excuse me?

He looked again but the janitor had gone. The man pressed on. His feet trod in the water, then he was through the puddle and on the other side. He pressed on. The corridor lengthened. All light was gone. The man walked on. He walked and walked. At last he reached the potted plant.

He reached to pluck it, but all his fingers touched was cheap plastic.

When the Stranger awoke the hermit was gone, and sunlight streamed in through the cave entrance. He saddled the horse and set out, away from the canyon. It was a muggy day, and they made slow progress, over rocks that cast long shadows, and the horse’s hooves scattered dreaming lizards, who fled from the glare of the sun.