Legends From the End of Time by Michael Moorcock, Tom Canty

Armatuce and tell them what the future held, would that not alter the future? You are familiar with these arguments, of course."
    "Of course. But I would tell them nothing of your world. It would be too disturbing."
    "And your boy? Children are not so discreet."
    "He is an Armatuce. He would be silent."
    "No, no. You risk your lives by moving against the current."
    "Our lives are for Armatuce. They serve no purpose here."
    "That is a difficult philosophy for one such as I to comprehend."
    "Let me try!"
    "Your boy would go with you?"
    "Of course. He would have to."
    "You'd subject him to the same dangers?"
    "Here, his soul is endangered. Soon he will be incapable of giving service. His life will be worthless."
    "It is a harsh, materialist assessment of worth, surely?"
    "It is the way of the Armatuce."
    "Besides, there is the question of a time vessel."
    "My own is ready. I have access to it."
    "There are only certain opportunities, when the structure wavers…"
    "I should wait for one. In the machine."
    "Could you not leave the child, at any rate?"
    "He would not be able to exist without me. I grant his life-right. He is part of me."
    "Maternal instincts…"
    "More than that!"
    "If you say so." He shook his head. "It is not my nature to influence another's decisions, in the normal course of things. Besides, no two consciences are alike, particularly when divorced by a million or two years." He shook his head. "The fabric is already unstable."
    "Let me take my son and leave! Now! Now!"
    "You fear something more than the strangeness of our world." He looked shrewdly into her face, "What is it that you fear, Dafnish Armatuce?"
    "I do not know. Myself? Miss Ming? It cannot be. I do not know, Lord Jagged."
    "Miss Ming? What harm could that woman do but bore you to distraction? Miss Ming?"
    "She — she has been paying court to me. And, in a way, to my child. In my mind she has become the greatest threat upon the face of this planet. It is monstrous of me to permit such notions to flourish, but I do. And because she inspires them, I hate her. And because I hate her, why, I detect something in myself which must resemble her. And if I resemble her, how can I judge her? I, Dafnish Armatuce of the Armatuce, must be at fault."
    "This is complicated reasoning. Perhaps too complicated for sanity."
    "Oh, yes, Lord Jagged, I could be mad. I have considered the possibility. It's a likely one. But mad by whose standards? If I can go back to Armatuce, let Armatuce judge me. It is what I rely upon."
    "I'll agree to debate this further," he said. "You are in great pain, are you not, Dafnish Armatuce?"
    "In moral agony. I admit it."
    He licked his upper lip, deliberating. "So strange, to us. I had looked forward to conversations with you."
    "You should have stayed here, then, at Canaria."
    "I would have liked that, but there are certain very pressing matters, you know. Some of us serve, Dafnish Armatuce, in our individual ways, to the best of our poor abilities." His quiet laughter was self-deprecating. "Shall we breakfast together?"
    "Snuffles?"
    "Let him join us when it suits him."
    "Miss Ming is with him. They say their farewells."
    "Then give them the time they need."
    She was uncertain of the wisdom of this, but with the hope of escape, she could afford to be more generous to Miss Ming. "Very well."
    As they sat together in the breakfast room, she said, "You do not believe that Miss Ming is evil, do you, Lord Jagged?" She watched him eat, having contented herself with the treat of a slice of toast.
    "Evil is a word, an idea, which has very little resonance at the End of Time, I'm afraid. Crime does not exist for us."
    "But crime exists here."
    "For you, Dafnish Armatuce, perhaps. But not for us."
    She looked up. She thought she had seen something move past the window, but she was tired; her eyes were faulty. She gave him her attention again. He had finished his breakfast and was rising, wiping his lips. "There must be victims, you see," he