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There was no sound for a while but the brushing of two brooms. Then Lobsang said, 'I'm aware, Lu-Tze, that it is usual for an apprentice to give a small gift or token to his master when he finishes his apprenticeship.'

'Possibly,' said Lu-Tze, straightening up. 'But I don't need anything. I've got my mat, my bowl and my
Way.'

'Every man has something he desires,' said Lobsang.

'Hah! Got you there, then, wonder boy. I'm eight hundred years old. I've run through all my desires long ago.'

'Oh dear. That is a shame. I hoped I could find something.' Now Lobsang straightened up and swung
his broom onto his shoulder. 'In any case, I must leave,' he said. 'There is so much still to do.'

'I'm sure there is,' said Lu-Tze. 'I'm sure there is. There's the whole stretch under the trees, for one thing. And while we're on the subject, wonder boy, did you let that witch have her broomstick back?'

Lobsang nodded. 'Let us just say... I put things back. It's a lot newer than it was, too.'

'Hah!' said Lu-Tze, sweeping up a few more petals. 'Just like that. Just like that. So easily does a thief of time repay his debts!'

Lobsang must have caught the rebuke in the tone. He stared down at his feet. 'Well, perhaps not all of them, I admit,' he said.

'Oh?' said Lu-Tze, still apparently fascinated by the end of his own broom.

'But when you have to save a world you cannot think of one person, you see, because one person is a part of that world,' Lobsang went on.

'Really?' said the sweeper. 'You think so? You've been talking to some very strange people, my lad.'

'But now I have time,' said Lobsang earnestly. 'And I hope she'll understand.'

'It's amazing what a lady will understand, if you find the right way of putting it,' said Lu-Tze. 'Best of luck, lad. You didn't do so bad, on the whole. And is it not written, "There's no time like the present"?'

Lobsang smiled at him, and vanished.

Lu-Tze went back to his sweeping. After a while, he smiled at a memory. An apprentice gives a gift to the master, eh? As if Lu-Tze could want anything that Time could give him...

And he stopped, and looked up, and laughed out loud. Overhead, swelling as he watched, the cherries were ripening.

***

The Thief of Time - p355-357