He wiped the crumbs from his fingers and his beard, and contemplated which donut to eat next. Boston Cream or Caramel Custard? There was no need to rush. He may as well take his time. If he could pull off another time slip, he’d make it up on the trip back to The Mudpuddle.
An electronic sounding bell chimed on the door, causing Will to look up from his donutic reverie.
He was delighted to see a familiar, stooped figure shambling in. The slight man wore a beret and walked with a mild limp and was none other than Burnside Porter himself. Will waved enthusiastically at his old professor.
It took Burnside a moment or two to recognize Will. But as soon as he did, the older man burst into a gappy smile, revealing his silver- and gold-toned teeth, as well as one sparkling canine, cut from a brilliant, ethereally blue stone. It sparkled brighter than a diamond.
“Porter!” Burnside called out enthusiastically in a raspy voice that immediately trailed off into a hacking cough. The elvish bakers behind the counter looked at him disapprovingly.
Will jumped to his feet and thumped Burnside on the back. He was a bit surprised to see the old porter was using a gnarled cane, something he hadn’t noticed before. “Easy there, old friend,” he said.
“It’s just the Santa Anas,” Burnside gasped. “Devilish winds. They always trigger my asthma.”
“Right.” Will nodded. “Won’t you have a seat with me? I was actually hoping to bump into you today. I’ve already ordered one of everything in the case. Can I get you a drink to go with?”
“Some tea would be lovely.” Burnside nodded appreciatively. “That and my good ol’ Porting juice should fix me right up.” He winked as he reached into the breast pocket of his fringed leather vest and drew out a small silver flask.
“I’m so glad I ran into you!” Will gushed. He was so pleased to see the man that he had the urge to hug him.
“Of course, of course, Iknewyou’d be here.” Burnside winked. He waved his flask and swayed alarmingly to one side. But a second later, he steadied himself with the cane in his other hand.
“Come, let’s sit down.” Will placed a protective hand on Burnside’s back, escorting him to the table.
Once settled in the booth, Burnside made quite the production of choosing the “right” donut.
“Now, I never eat strawberries on a weekday, and I had sprinkles yesterday. It’s bad luck to eat chocolate on a Thursday, you know.”
“But today is Wednesday, Burnside,” Will gently reminded him.
“Hereit is…” Burnside nodded knowingly. “But it’s always Thursday somewhere, Will. And I don’t have to couch this with you. As a fellow porter, and my disciple, you know. We’re never truly here or there, when or where, are we? It’s so difficult predicting when the dang Thursdays might creep into your Monday morning.”
“Yes, about that…” Will considered this to be as perfect of a segue as he was going to get. “There’s something I’d like to speak to you about.”
“What’s that?” Burnside asked.
He seemed to have settled, at long last, on a glazed lemon donut, and was turning his attention to doctoring his tea. He poured in a few prudent drops of whatever the purple liquid in the flask was—Will suspected whisky—and sniffed it. Unsatisfied, he screwed off the cap again, turned the flask upside down, and dumped the entire contents into the steaming cup of tea. He safely stashed the flask back in his pocket before turning his attention back to the hot drink. Carefully, he blew on the surface of the brew before slurping it up loudly. This drew another less than flattering look from another one of the elves. Burnside responded to the censure with an enthusiastic belch.
“Right. Where were we?” Burnside asked. “Oooh! Lemon!” He folded his arms in front of himself and beamed down at the lemon donut as if he were discovering the treat for the first time.
“Time slips.” Will jumped into the conversation with both feet. “I seem to remember you talking about them in class once or twice. I was hoping you could tell me a bit more of what you know, and perhaps give me a few tips for navigating them?”
“Ah. So you’ve leveled up, Porter! I thought that might be the case when I suddenly got the urge for a donut,” Burnside said. He bit into his lemon donut and washed it down with another swig of tea. The more he drank, the more lucid he seemed to get. “Don’t worry. I’m here to help you make it make sense.” He patted Will’s hand reassuringly. “Why don’t you start by telling me exactly what happened? Then I can answer your questions.”
“Well…” Will considered his options quickly, then lay his cards out on the table. “Yes. That’s what this is about. It happened earlier this afternoon. I slipped during a fairly simple port. I lost an hour. And now … I guess I’m wondering if you know whether I can do it again? I thought I’d start by trying to get home a few minutes from when I left.”
“Impossible.” Burnside shook his head and took another bite of donut.
“What do you mean, impossible?” Will set his donut down again, frustrated. “Weren’t you the one always saying how time travel was possible in our lectures?”
“Yes, but it’s not a skill that’s innately accessible to porters. We need a catalyst to travel via temporal lines. Think of it like paying a toll. No catalyst, no access.”
Burnside dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. He reached into his pocket next and pulled out a small notebook. Licking a finger first, he leafed through the notebook until he finally settled on a page with a numbered list. He retrieved an undersized pair of wire-rimmed glasses from his back pocket and slipped them on. They were crooked and battered, a sure sign of having been sat on frequently.
“Ah! Here we go!” Burnside said. “Just a standard list of questions regarding the alleged time slip. Hope you don’t mind.” He raised his eyes to look at Will, but did not pause long enough for him to answer before continuing. “Were you under the influence of any drugs, alcohol, potions, or enchantments that might have altered your consciousness or caused hallucinations at the time of said slip?”
“No!” Will said vehemently.
“Have you recently experienced any health problems such as insomnia, narcolepsy, sleepwalking, delusions, dementia, or any other conditions that might affect your perception of reality?”
