A dull ache cascades through Vellie’s body with each exhausted step as he shuffles through the office. Trying to add time to the NowHere had taken a lot out of him. It was also very much against the rules. The telepathic text came through seconds after he stopped making extra time.

@SeerVellie1530: report to Council Chambers, was all it said.

Vellie sinks gratefully onto the ancient stone bench in the waiting area. His bottom two hands are working lazily at the Narwitches’ orb again. It would be foolish to amass more infractions for when he appears before the Council. He glances at the closed door to his right. Inscribed in the stones above the door are the words: Chamber of the Council of Seers. Stewards of TULIP. Vellie sighs. The pale glow of the stone-hewn waiting area illuminates his miscalculation. It is not a Seers job to influence the fulfillment of an oracle. It never was. He had been foolish. He got caught up in the fate of these silly Earth children. He thought he could help. He thought he could stop The Eighth. This is way more serious than a simple disciplinary citation, he knows that. If it had just been helping the Earth children, he may have gotten away with a simple reprimand. But Vellie has done something far more serious: He made extra time. Not only that, he used strands of Ether he’d reserved for the Narwitches’ orb to do it. The Eighth floats into his mind. The Eighth created time for himself, went his own way. Vellie feels his stomachs drop into his feet. Deviating from the Pattern is the same as going your own way…he is no better than the banished Seer now. Maybe they will banish him too. For the first time in a hundred moons, he feels a tear of sorrow threaten to squeeze out the corner of his eye.

He allows himself to mentally review what Oliver did two or three times as he waits for the Council to grant him audience. Better play it back now. No telling if there will be memory-erasure as a part of his punishment. The way that Earth boy had created the net to capture the spider was really something. He has a gift, the boy does. Vellie makes a mental note to search TULIP for another being who is capable of making such strong creations outside of the Maker’s World. This kind of power is unheard of. Inside the Maker’s World, the suspension of disbelief is a given, like gravity. Outside the Maker’s World, the rules are different. Even the Maker themself would struggle to do what the boy just did in the NowHere. The young Earth child possesses a unique gift.

“Seer Vellie?” A page’s shrill voice interrupts Vellie’s thoughts. Is he imagining it, or has this lowly page just addressed him with disdain? Vellie swallows the lump in his throat and stands on shaky legs. “It is time.” Yes, the shrillness is laced with judgement. He wonders if his colleagues already know about what he’s done. This page must have heard about it through one of the office gossip tele-text threads. The page turns away from Vellie with his nose in the air, motions for the Seer to follow, and types a code into the keypad next to the stone door. The words Council of Seers. Stewards of TULIP glow red and yellow as the keypad beeps and the door slides aside with a creeeaaak. Vellie forces his reluctant body through the giant stone archway behind the page. The door slides closed with a click and the page shoves Vellie forward with a firm poke as he takes his post by the inside of the doorway.

Vellie looks up. There are the Seven in their seven tall stone thrones. Above each cone-shaped hat is a title emblazoned into the back of each throne: The First, The Second, The Third, The Fourth, The Fifth, The Sixth, The Seventh. The titles are barely legible in the grey semi-darkness, but they are not necessary anyway. Every Seer knows and recognizes the Seven. Right now they seem impossibly far away, impossibly high up from where Vellie is standing. Each of them wears a midnight-blue robe like Vellie’s, except theirs are adorned in tiny twinkling lights. Altogether in the dark room, they appear as seven disembodied heads bobbing in a starry sky.

The Seven look down at him. A couple of them shift awkwardly in their thrones. Vellie feels the dreadful, all-encompassing silence slice through his robe and squeeze his very spirit within him. He shudders. His fingers twitch unsteadily in anticipation.

“Page. Page!” The Sixth calls out. “Please remove the assigned orb from Seer Vellie. There are Seers on break who can take over for him during these proceedings.”

“Yes!” The eager page shuffles forward and pries the orb from Vellie’s fingers. There is a light creaaaak-click and the door closes behind the Seer, leaving Vellie alone with the Seven.

“Should have already been done in the waiting area,” mutters the Seventh with annoyance. “These pages, we need to train them — ”

“That’s enough,” The First interrupts. “Let us focus on why we are here.” The stars all over The First’s robe twinkle gold, while those on the rest are silver. He waits, as if the rest of them know what needs to happen next.

“What is the first rule of time creation, Seer Vellie?” Thunders The Third then, almost bowling Vellie over with the strength of his voice.

“All Seers follow the Pattern. All time-creation is sanctioned by the Council and planned using the Pattern,” Vellie hears himself recite in a disembodied voice which echoes up to the pointed ears of the Seven.

“And describe the act which you committed, Seer Vellie, in World 78ED45: known as the NowHere World?” Shame rises up Vellie’s neck and flushes his cheeks in a crimson wave. His disused wings feel hot under his robe as a trickle of nervous sweat descends between his wing-bones.

“I created extra time, The Third. I deviated from the Pattern to create time in a world for which I was not tasked to create time.”

“And…?” Prompts The Third.

“And I used strands of Ether intended for my assigned world in order to create additional time in the world known as the NowHere…” Vellie hangs his head. His voice sounds far away and small, like he is calling to the Council from the other side of a long, dark tunnel. His transgressions, spoken so plainly, echo around inside his head. How could I have been so negligent and rash?

“And WHY were you compelled to do such a thing?” The First asks, surprising Vellie, who did not think he’d get a chance to explain himself.

“I became convinced that an oracle transmitted via arachnid in the NowHere must be fulfilled with… with the ultimate sacrifice of an Earth child, a girl with the name Olivia.”

There is a long silence then. The Second and The Fourth shift in their thrones. The Fifth clears her throat loudly. Vellie’s body aches. He wishes he could have a chair to sit in, more than anything else. How long before they reveal his punishment?

“We must go to HSE,” The First breaks the silence. “We must rectify Seer Vellie’s error and determine which changes must be made to the Pattern for the mitigation of adverse effects. HSE is the only one who can help us do this.”

Vellie stares at The First, mouth agape. In his peripheral vision, he can see the other Council members are just as surprised as he is. Go to HSE? Now? How can he meet Her Supreme Eminence, eternal administrator and creator of all worlds, at the time of his greatest failure? It is unthinkable.

“We leave tomorrow night, as the Moon Man is rising again,” The First says. It seems like he is ignoring everyone’s reactions. “Vellie, can you meet me in front of the office then?” Vellie is surprised by his casual tone, and more surprised that The First had said ‘can you meet me’?

“You mean, you mean — you are coming with me?” He stammers.

“Yes.” The First smiles down at Vellie, not patronizingly. Almost like they are friends. Then he repeats: “Meet me in front of the office as the Moon Man is rising tomorrow night.”

Vellie meets The First as requested, in front of the office door just as the Moon Man is rising. The night-blooming jasmine and evening primrose are releasing their fragrant scent from where they flower on the pathway up to the office entrance. A pair of earnest-looking pages are watering and pruning the plants with exaggerated care.

It’s almost never difficult for Vellie to fall asleep, but the night after his appearance before the Council he’d stared at the blank ceiling of his simple hovel, got up to make a warm cup of milk tea, counted mechanical unicorns jumping over a rainbow: none of it seemed to help him drift off. He’d finally managed a measly seven hours, waking just before the Moon Man approached the horizon. The occasion is so unceremonious, so unexpected, that it almost makes Vellie angry. The time to meet HSE is not now, after he made a terrible error. The time to meet HSE should be a time of celebration, of victory. This is the opposite of that time. The First clearly disagrees. He is whistling a low, foreign tune as he approaches Vellie. The Seers leaving from the previous shift bow deferentially in passing as they stream from the office doors. The First nods at each one with a small, childlike grin plastered on his face. This grin, too, almost makes Vellie angry. If this weren’t The First, he would let himself feel angry, that is.

“We are going to travel on foot,” The First interrupts Vellie’s thoughts. “We will be with HSE in three short nights’ walk.” The most powerful Seer in all worlds then removes two wooden walking sticks from somewhere within his star-spangled robe and shoves one into Vellie’s hand. He takes the other and begins to walk with a determined gait away from the office building. “Come on,” he calls back to Vellie. “Let us get going.” Bewildered, Vellie follows. He had no idea the great HSE was simply a walk away. He thought she was in a different dimension, maybe. He thought at least they would need to port somewhere. He grasps his walking stick with his two right hands and follows The First, who waits for him to catch up. The two of them crunch softly down the gravel path. They pass another gaggle of young Seers who stop to bow at The First and to stare at Vellie as they rush into the office to begin their shifts. The First nods benevolently to each one in response while Vellie averts his eyes. He’s not sure if this is a great honour or a great punishment, to be on his way to visit HSE alongside The First after he committed the biggest infraction of his life. The gravel gives way to dirt and before long they are passing the outer ring of Seers’ hovels to enter a tangled wood. It is strange, thinks Vellie, I do not remember there being a forest quite like this here. The outer ring of Seers’ hovels is supposed to be bordered by a vast expanse of fields pock-marked with disused hovels which belonged to past Seers and now serve as dens for various wild animals.

Instead of those fields, Vellie’s eyes land on trees, dense shrubs, and a carpet of fallen pine needles and leaves in every direction. An earthy, wooden smell punctuated by bright floral tones permeates Vellie’s nostrils. A blue butterfly flutters along in front of them, almost like a little insect-guide. Vellie wonders if The First is following the butterfly, if HSE sent her, or if The First has in fact conjured the insect himself. Vellie marvels at the complexity of the electric-blue movements. If this is The First’s illusion, it is a very good one.

They walk in complete silence for what feels like hours. The Moon Man is higher in the sky now. His bright glow sets the forest path alight. The leaves of trees and plants are visible to the left and right, almost as bright as in the day.

“What is she like?” Vellie asks, feeling his nervousness all of a sudden. “Will she like me? Does she know who I am? I know her attributes, of course, and I expect she will know about me, but I mean you have actually met her…” the tips of his ears burn red as he trails off, unable to express what he means properly. He’s embarrassed for asking a string of questions like that, like a younger Seer might do during one of his first moons in service. And what of his casual tone? Where did that come from? That was no way to address The First.

“Oh, Vellie, Vellie, Vellie…” The First shakes his head, smiles, and doesn’t say anything else. There is a long silence which Vellie perceives as awkwardness and The First seems not to perceive at all. Vellie has almost forgotten what they were talking about when The First responds: “She is indescribable.” And that is all. They walk for hours in a silence punctuated by small creatures scuttling in the underbrush and the hoots of an owl or two.

As the Moon Man dips low enough to touch the horizon, Vellie’s steps slow and The First suggests they sleep for the early part of the day. The First uses the end of his walking stick to render a crackling fire. They find some savoury bark and pine nuts and roast them before each curls up in his own thick cloak, pulling the hoods low against the intensifying morning light. Vellie’s eyes meet the Moon Man’s giggling face one more time before he retires below the treeline. Vellie drifts off to sleep, secure in the feeling that the Moon Man is watching over their journey and will be ready to meet them when they awaken. (The notion that the Moon Man actually cares about anything, much less looks out for Seers on their journeys or any other time, is completely unsubstantiated. But the Moon Man’s kind smile makes most of them believe HSE created him to watch out for them, nonetheless.)

Vellie feels like he barely closes his eyes before The First wakes him up. He is teeming with a calm energy. He has already rendered another, bigger fire and is hovering intensely over it. There is, inexplicably, a giant squirrel on The First’s left shoulder, to whom he is feeding nuts in a very practiced way. If Vellie assumed The First’s silence would prevail for the rest of their journey, he now realizes he was dead wrong. Within five minutes of straining to open his eyes against the comfort of fading dreams, Vellie thinks he might have the opposite problem.

Words begin to flow out of The First like a calm but rapid river. These words are packed to overflowing with important information, even secret information. The words are about himself, The First, and about Vellie. The First’s words seem to take on a life of their own as they accompany the pair on their way. The First tells Vellie all about his own days before he became a Seer. He was born to Moonflower royalty, a Duke and Duchess, on the ninth of thirteen nearly-identical, little-understood but very well-respected Ipomoea worlds. The creatures of Ipomoea IX are humanoid, like those of Earth, but much more intelligent, with advanced telepathic and prophetic gifting. He tells Vellie stories from his childhood as an heir to the Moonflower throne. “My name,” says The First,

“was Bartimeaus Moonflower.” He permits himself a few seconds of staring nostalgically into the distance, before changing tack:

“You are worried, Vellie, about your mistake,” says The First, formerly Bartimeaus Moonflower. His expression has turned serious. “Look around. Every tree and every leaf, each minute stem and droplet of water: they are never completely still. Everything is moving but nothing is striving. There is constant movement because the forest follows its own pattern. The trees do not worry about what will happen to them. They are not concerned with oracles or prophesies. We must be the same. A Seer is always moving, always creating, but not trying to influence the fate of things. We must let things happen as they need to. We must trust our role in the delicate balance of the worlds. Once you gain quiet confidence in the balance of all things, dear Vellie, you will be able to not just follow the Pattern because it is law, but to trust the Pattern. Then you will live into the fulness of your destiny…”

The First’s river of words flows like this for almost the whole night. The squirrel rides The First’s shoulder the whole time. The small electric blue butterfly flutters constantly on delicate velvet wings right in front of them. Vellie wants to ask about both of these creatures, but there isn’t space in The First’s monologue to interject anywhere.

Finally, he gives up.

As the lower edge of the Moon Man’s curved body touches the horizon and the pale yellow light of morning dawns, The First suggests they stop to sleep again. Vellie is grateful for a break from the walking and talking. He is even more grateful for his brain’s enhanced ‘record’ function. There is no way he could remember everything

The First is telling him without it! Why has the most powerful of all Seers chosen him to download all of this wisdom? After forcing a few roasted pine nuts down his throat, Vellie pulls the hood of his robe low over his face and falls into an exhausted, confused sort of sleep. This journey his been much stranger than he imagined.