XVII“The ironclads,” shouted Finn over the whir and click of the clock mechanism. “They're after me.”
The old man waved his arm dismissively. “Not allowed in here, boy. Delicate machinery.”
Did the old man mean he, Finn, wasn't allowed in or that the ironclads weren't? Finn stood by the door, expecting his pursuers to start hammering on it at any moment. “I'm … I'm not even sure I'm supposed to be in here,” he said.
The old man didn't reply. He adjusted something in the great clock's mechanism, delicately positioning a weight on a balance that rocked backwards and forwards. He glanced repeatedly at the oblong clock he'd set down on the floor. Finally, satisfied, he took out his black book and began to write.
“Clock seventy-two, Western Grand Tower, synchronized to master time.”
“I cam
