Vanoski For time does not flow but amasses. —S. S. Bartholomew was a king. Not your everyday Sixth or Third—not even the First. He was the Only. His power was vast. Any other king of any other era would find it difficult to imagine how boundless it was. True, Bartholomew could not so easily decide to chop off someone’s head, say, or bestow half a shabby kingdom on someone else. But he was able to do something more: he could banish. And I speak not of ordinary banishment. Both banishing from a realm and curtailing a personal allotment of time by separating a head from a body will solidify someone’s place in history. No, this was something else: absolute banishment … from time itself. From human memory. His kingdom was neither larger nor smaller than others; indeed, he reigned over all possible worlds—even, to a certain degree, over the Universe. It was not, of course, within his power to extinguish the sun or take the Moon from the sky. Removing from the firmament a trifling little star, however, was something he could do; and he could make it shine a little more brightly for people, as well.
