There were a few isolated buildings dotted around here and there in what passed for a town, homes or sheds it was impossible to say. The only other large building was made of bricks and looked like a factory though there were no workers he could see nor smoke coming out of the chimneys. Attached to the factory building there was a clock tower and its clock kept beating, and the sound of the seconds reverberated through the town and into the ground and into the Stranger’s soul.

He did not like this place. It was hard to look straight at the clock. The hour hand was stuck on twelve and the minute hand on five to twelve and the hand that counted the seconds was the only one moving, but it was trapped against the minute hand and only kept beating out its signal against the same never-ending time, moving in place like a captured moth trying to break free. He looked at the Kid and the Kid shrugged.

“I need breakfast,” the Kid said. He stretched and yawned. “Think anyone’s serving in this dump?”

“Horses first,” the Stranger said. The Kid shrugged again.

They went to fetch their horses, who seemed little affected by the earlier attack. They were creatures of the Escapement, with no ties to that other place and little regard for the affairs of Colossi or pupae. The Stranger’s horse nuzzled his face and the Stranger stroked the horse’s long neck. They had travelled together for some time and were destined to ride together for a time longer. As they came back towards the front of the train, the Stranger saw a solitary figure approach them.

He was a tall, thin man in the uniform of a conductor, with a head too large for his body, and entirely bald, so that he appeared like a marionette whose head would not quite stay on properly.

“What happened here? Who are you? Where is the engineer?”

“We came under attack over the Chagrin,” the Stranger said. “The engineer is in his cabin. He got us this far, but no farther.”

“An attack? But this is most irregular!” the conductor said. He looked at a pocket watch and shook his head mournfully. “This is terrible, the timetables will all be out of tune!”

The Stranger noticed that the pocket watch seemed to bear no hours or minutes and that all its hands were missing, but he kept his thoughts private. The conductor muttered to himself, ignoring them.

“You will arrange for the other passengers?” the Stranger said.

“Yes, yes,” the conductor said. “It is taken care of.”