Thief of Time - Take Over

The garden faded. The stone seat melted like mist as soon as Susan got up, although until then it had felt as solid as, well rock. The wineglass vanished from her hand, leaving only a memory of its pressure on her fingers and the taste lingering in her mouth. Lobsang was standing in front of the clock. Time herself was not visible, but the song that wove through the rooms now had a different tone.

'She's happier,' said Lobsang. 'She's free now.'

Susan looked around. Wen had vanished along with the garden. There was nothing but the endless glass rooms.

'Don't you want to talk to your father?' she said.

'Later. There will be plenty of time,' said Lobsang. 'I shall see to it.'

The way he said it, so carefully dropping the words into place, made her turn.

'You're going to take over?' she said. 'You are Time now?'

'Yes.'

'But you're mostly human!'

'So?' Lobsang's smile took after his father. It was the gentle and, to Susan, the infuriating smile of a god.

'What's in all these rooms?' she demanded. 'Do you know?'

'One perfect moment. In each one. An oodleplex of oodleplexes.'

'I'm not certain there's such a thing as a genuinely perfect moment,' said Susan. 'Can we go home now?'

***

The Thief of Time - p329-330