Neal Asher: Cowl

‘This is a week after the moment of our departure,’ he said. ‘Are you sure this is where we want to be?’

‘Aconite wanted us to establish a base in this time,’ Polly replied, her expression distant.

Tack turned to her. ‘Her idea of “this time” covers about a thousand years—she thinks on a different scale.’

‘Now is good enough,’ said Polly.

He watched her run her hand over her new tor. Their travel by tor was limited by dangers of which they were both now well aware. But still they could travel in time.

‘I don’t see what’s so great about this… now,’ Tack said.

‘It’s convenient,’ said Polly. ‘Nandru told me certain bank codes, and where to locate certain chipcards. And with fifty million euros available, establishing Aconite’s base won’t be so difficult.’

Tack nodded. When he first met her, she would have been ecstatic to be able to lay her hands on such a sum. Now she merely looked ruminative.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

She gestured at their surroundings. ‘It’s here. It’ll always be here: layers and layers of it, millions upon millions of years. We’re so small.’

‘That’s called perspective.’ Tack then nodded towards Maldon Island. ‘Let’s go.’