The Gull and Anchor
The tavern goes quiet when you mention Penrose by name, then loud again, too fast. One old dockhand, three drinks past careful, is willing to talk once the others drift off.
“Every generation, the clock gets turned back once, and someone goes with it,” he says. “Started with the Nightjar crew, back when she nearly went down in the ‘58 blow. Whatever pulled her through the storm, it wants paying back. Corwin’s father paid it. Corwin’s paid it twice already, best anyone knows. Penrose worked that much out and didn’t like it one bit — he was asking about the clock tower gears just before he stopped coming round.”
He won’t say what “paying it” means, and goes pale when you press. But he’s told you the same thing the office logbook implied: an old debt, tied to the clock, and Corwin at the middle of it.
What do you do?