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“What sort of name is that for a modern young woman?” Gideon chuckled. “No, we’ll call her… I know. We’ll call her Ooola. That was the name of Alley Oop’s girlfriend in the Sunday comics-quite appropriate for a young Paleolithic lady, don’t you think?”

Tyler had no idea what the crazy old fellow was talking about, but he was too tired and too grateful not to be in trouble to argue about it. “Why can’t she talk our language anymore?” he asked. “When I met her I could understand her and she could understand me too.”

“Ah, but she never could speak our language,” said Gideon. “While you’re in the field of the Fault Line, there is a sort of, I don’t know, instantaneous translation that goes on. Mind to mind, so that although both parties might be speaking completely different languages, their own languages, they can still understand each other. I think it’s one of the ways in which the flow of time protects itself-that is, it lessens the potential for something catastrophic happening. Prevents paradoxes.” Gideon warmed to his subject, as if he was beginning to enjoy himself a little. “If you were to sit on top of the Fault Line-always assuming that you actually could, and it was a day in which there was no, well, activity there-then you’d probably be able to understand each other again, because there’s usually a leakage of energy in the immediate vicinity.” He grew stern again. “Don’t even think about trying that, young man.”

“I won’t,” said Tyler. “I promise.”

“That’s also the reason cell phones and even regular telephones and other electronic things don’t always work right around here. It’s the Fault Line.” He shook his head.

“No, young Ooola will just have to learn English like Sarah and Ragnar and all the others did. Don’t worry, we’ve done all this before.”

“So everyone here’s from the past?” Lucinda asked. Tyler looked at Ragnar and the herdsmen, the Three Amigos, who were talking in quiet voices at the table a few yards away. No sign of Mr. Walkwell yet, he couldn’t help noticing. He wondered how he was supposed to treat the man now that he knew he had goat legs. It was all pretty weird.

“The past? More or less,” said Gideon, but the old man suddenly looked a little cagey. “To be honest, not even my grandfather Octavio knew exactly how the Fault Line works, for all his research. He believed it might open not just on other times but on alternate versions of Earth as well.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “So far I’ve only observed time rifts, but who knows? We’re at the leading edge of a science no one else has even dreamed of.” Pride deepened his voice.

“Then why are you keeping it a secret?” Lucinda asked. “Shouldn’t there be people here, scientists from all over the world?”

“Good God, child, are you mad?” Gideon sat up in his chair as if someone had just tried to steal the bathrobe right off his skinny back. “It wouldn’t be scientists, it would be the government. And they wouldn’t just be studying it, they’d be trying to figure out how to use it-trying to change the past, who knows? Next thing, the entire fabric of time and space would collapse. Hand it over to the so-called authorities? Not bloody likely.”

“But what are you doing with it, Uncle Gideon?” Lucinda asked. Tyler was impressed. He’d never seen his sister so serious about something that didn’t have commercial breaks and well-known guest stars. “Why do you get to be in charge of something so… so big, so important?”

Gideon flushed red. “Because Octavio Tinker discovered it, all by himself! He tried to get the government’s help when he was first searching for it and they laughed at him. Every university in America treated him like he was a crackpot! It belongs to the Tinkers-it belonged to me and my wife-and I’m going to hold on to it, thank you very much.” He had gone from calm to quivering in a few moments. “And just because you know about it now, girl, don’t think that you can tell me what to do with my own property. If someone called the government in here tomorrow, you know what they’d get? Nothing! Because I’ve got enough dynamite to blow the whole thing into a heap of dirt, and I’d do it gladly before I’d let anyone waltz in here and start telling me how the Fault Line should be used.” He wasn’t just trembling now, he was red in the face and breathing hard. For a moment Tyler felt certain that Gideon Goldring was going to reach out and grab his sister by the throat.

“Your tea, Gideon,” said Mrs. Needle. She’d swept in without Tyler even noticing, appearing behind the old man’s chair like a magic trick. “Don’t shout at Lucinda. She’s a good girl and she’s just concerned about doing the right thing.” She gave his sister one of her cold smiles, but for once Lucinda didn’t respond, looking away as though she didn’t want to meet the Englishwoman’s eye.

“You’re right, of course, Patience.” Gideon looked at his tea but didn’t touch it. “It’s all a bit much, that’s all.”

“Of course. You have a tremendous responsibility, Gideon.” Mrs. Needle laid a pale hand on his shoulder. “A real burden. You have decisions to make. There is a great weight on you right now.” The hand looked like a white tarantula.

Gideon shook his head, suddenly calmer, even a bit weary-looking. “In any case, now you kids know the greatest of our secrets here at Ordinary Farm. I’m sorry you had to wait so long, but as Patience so aptly puts it, it’s a tremendous responsibility. Now you really are part of the family.”

Tyler nodded, but a part of him wondered what that meant exactly. They had already been part of the family when they arrived, which was more than any of the rest of these people could say. He looked around at the group. The Three Amigos and Ragnar and the others seemed to be in a cheerful mood, as if the truth of the Fault Line was a secret none of them had much liked keeping. It was almost like a party, but there were other strange currents that Tyler couldn’t understand.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “There’s just this big… hole in the universe? In time or whatever? And it just happens to be here?”

Gideon had been staring at his tea. “What? No, boy, it doesn’t just happen to be here. Octavio Tinker went searching all over the world for a place like this. The only other spot that had the same likelihood turned out to be in the middle of the ocean about a thousand miles south of Madagascar-not a great location for an experimental site.” He grinned. “Octavio found the Fault Line, he bought the land, he built the house. I think I will have a little of that cider, Sarah.”

Mrs. Needle seemed about to say something disapproving but kept her mouth closed, though her lips thinned to a line. “Shouldn’t these children be getting to bed, Gideon?” she asked instead. “After all, they’ve had a very busy day-especially Tyler.”

“He had a bit of an adventure, Patience, that’s all. Boys are sturdy! I know I was at that age.”

“Oh yes, but before that Tyler did his chores, and then all that boyish larking around, messing about chasing squirrels. He must be ready to sleep like the dead.” She caught Tyler’s gaze and something flashed in her eyes, a cold, poisonous glint that made his heart flutter.

She knows, he thought. She knows exactly what I did.

“But Uncle Gideon, what is the Fault Line, really?” Lucinda asked. “Did all the people here just pop out of it? I still don’t understand.”

Before their great-uncle could answer, Sarah, Azinza, and Pema emerged from the back with a young woman Tyler at first didn’t recognize. Her eyes were wide, as though at any moment she might have to run for her life. Her wet reddish hair curled around her face, and she was draped in a colorful length of fabric far too long for her-one of Azinza’s dresses. It was only when Tyler realized that the thin red lines on her face were doctored cuts that he realized it was the cavegirl, Last One.

“Ah, our newest guest!” said Gideon, with all the forced good fellowship of a department store Santa. “Ooola, welcome to the family. Someone get her some cider.”

“Don’t be mad, Gideon,” said Mrs. Needle. “She’s probably never had strong drink in her life. If you could bring her some water, Sarah, and something to eat. Not too much, though, or she’ll likely make herself sick.”