by Ty Beltramo
The old man grinned. “You told me that story, I think. Isn’t that the one where you taught the Vikings how to build those rowing ships, and then promised them free farm land to get them to come down and neutralize the Huns? How’d that work out?”
“You got your Swedish bikini team. So don’t complain,” I said. “Besides, those Vikings brought a lot of great culture into the West. Anyway, it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“My Scandinavian ancestors thank you. But those kinds of tactics are not so possible these days. It’s much harder to bring peoples to such a state. And I don’t see anything ready to pop. Do you?”
“No,” I said.
“Then it must be something on the side. Something we won’t expect.”
Diomedes’ warning rang in my ears. “Or multiple things.”
I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair. The sun didn’t convey any warmth.
“What’s eating you?” asked my friend.
“Why?”
“You’re tense. Normally, you’re excited at this stage in the game. Now, you’re tense.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder . . . I sank a ship today.”
“That was you?”
“Yeah.”
“So?”
“I don’t know.”
My friend took a long drag on his cigarette, and blew a cloud between us. He squinted to see me through the smoke. He didn’t say anything.
“I sink lots of ships,” I said.
My friend sucked his glass dry. “Yeah. You have a knack for that.”
Waves lapped against the shore. A fish jumped. How many fish lived in this river? From the bank, you rarely saw them, but there must be thousands, hidden in the brown depths, struggling each day to resist the pollution, avoid predators, and eat. Did Death kill them, too? Who determined the seasons of fishes?
I pulled myself out of it. There wasn’t time to consider the merits of Death killing people. That was his business, after all. He knew what he was doing.
“Anyway, I’ve got to get ahead of Aeson on this,” I said. “He snuck up on me with this one. For him to announce his intentions at a Gathering means he’s fairly far along in his plans.”
“Hmm. Well, in any case, you don’t have enough information. Get more and come back. Maybe I can help then.”
“Any suggestions?” I asked.
“Find out who his favorites are these days. Look for ones who seem to have nothing to do with his plans. They’d be the ones to watch out for. Sort of like the gunslinger who’s not looking at you. He’d be the fastest. Knowing who they are would tell you a lot, I think. Or, you could talk to him.”
“You think that’s a good idea? He’s still pissed about Detroit.”
“I don’t doubt it. But Aeson is a professional. He won’t let the past get in the way of his future. Or you could squeeze Diomedes. Sounds like he knows more than he’s giving up. That’s the scariest part.”
“I know. He’s always been open with me. Keeping me in the dark isn’t like him,” I said.
“Well, neither Aeson nor Diomedes do anything without a well-thought-out plan. If Diomedes is going to work Aeson over, I’m sure you’ll find out, probably sooner than later.”
“Yeah. Anything I can do for you in the meantime?” I asked.
“You could visit more. Most of my friends have taken the big sleep, and no one here speaks Yiddish. And you could get me an answer to my question before I die. Other than that, I have everything I need.”
We talked for quite a while about the things we’d seen together, both good and bad, things finished and undone. Ours was a good story. We were both proud of our work together, even though neither of us knew exactly what it all meant or where it was all going.
I left him there, watching the river go by. He said he didn’t dwell on the past. But I suspected he visited it more than he let on.
CHAPTER FIVE
Detroit is like ground zero of an immense tire fire. The place is dark and dirty. It stinks. Black soot and grey concrete mute the senses, suffocating hope. I couldn’t understand why my friend would choose to ride out his final days there. I felt sorry for him.
For me, Oxford was home. There was no cloud over my favorite coffee shop—not normally, anyway.
As I approached, I felt a familiar ethereal ripple spreading gently away. Similar ripples from my own arrival glided toward the shop. A traveler, or travelers, had barely beaten me here.
I don’t have many rules. Rules make decisions take too long. But one rule that has served me well: never be the last guy to show up. Being last makes it hard to be the surpriser and not the surprisee.
I chose Oxford largely because it was far off the beaten path and didn’t get many visitors of the supernatural kind. The rural countryside and expansive gravel pits provided the privacy I needed to lay low when the need arose.
I briefly considered bolting, but rejected the knee-jerk idea. Whoever was in the shop came to see me, on my turf, and almost certainly sensed my arrival as I had sensed theirs. Curiosity trumped caution, as it did only rarely, and I strode through the doorway, stopping just inside, combing the room for the unwelcome visitors.
At the table tucked into the back corner sat two Engineers quietly watching the shop. Their eyes, always half in the prime material plane and half in the ethereal plane, never lost sight of you. There was no hiding from these guys, at least not in any conventional way.
I recognized both as Melanthios’s enforcers.
Apolik, sturdy and still, was his messenger, retriever, and stereotypical blunt instrument. He was a hulk with a granite face and shiny bald pate. He met my gaze in a Nasferatu-ian manner.
The other, Rolic, slouched in his chair and slid a large cup of coffee back and forth between his hands. His slicked-back dark hair and wrinkled black suit reminded me of a strung-out mortician.
Neither made any sudden moves.
I walked over to their table, but remained standing. “Apolik and Rolic, what brings you to my door? I hope all is well with His Rigidness,” I said.
Sarcasm was lost on the likes of these two, but it calmed my own nerves, which were increasingly edgy these days.
“Elson, Melanthios has summoned you. You must come,” Apolik said as he stood up.
He glared an unspoken challenge. Two on one was a losing proposition. That’s why enforcers travel in pairs. These two were well trained in the art of wrapping the cosmos into a club and beating you with it. But it wasn’t their mastery of the multiverse that made me cautious. While Engineers could control matter and energy to varying degrees, neither could be used to actually harm an Engineer. Not that I haven’t tried. But we were spirit beings, and the only way for Rolic and Apolik to directly affect me was to smash their souls into mine in a battle of wills: the Psychic Duel.
A decisive victory meant that the very fabric of an Engineer could be damaged, or even maimed. But that was rare and occurred only in duels between the most powerful Engineers. Normally the loser suffered a lot of pain and struggled to think and act for himself. In other words, the loser became enslaved.
But there was a downside to the Psychic Duel for both the winner and the loser. No matter what the outcome, each combatant would be marked with the imprint of his opponent’s soul forever. Traces of their opponent’s personality, and sometimes memories, would remain. Duels always left a mark.
Your own level of determination, willpower, and experience made you more or less formidable when dueling. That’s why enforcers traveled in pairs: two on one was almost a guaranteed victory. And, since I didn’t want any part of these muscle-heads in my dreams, I decided to play nice.
“You know, Apolik, I was just thinking the other day that I needed to see the man himself. I have some information he should hear,” I said.
“That’s good, Elson. I understand he has many questions for you.”
“Well, that’s good then. Shall we go? Or do I have time for some coffee?”
�
�Elson, you know that when Melanthios sends us from his presence, he expects us to return immediately.”
Rolic said, “But we could get some to go, and one for the boss as well.” Apolik stood statue still.
“Right,” I said, and walked to the counter, where Jill was watching the three of us. She looked Apolik and Rolic up and down.
“Who are your friends, Elson?” she said.
“Sorry, Jill. They’re not your type, if you know what I mean. I just need four larges to go.”
She looked over my shoulder. “You don’t know the half if it, Elson. I don’t think they like you. Want me to spike their juice?”
“Uh . . . I don’t think that would help. But hold that thought. I may take you up on it later,” I said.
She studied Apolik as if she were a ninja about to attack.
“Don’t trust that one.”
“Yeah . . .” It was comforting to have Jill’s intuition looking out for me, since my own usually meant me harm.
“The other one is okay, though,” she said, referencing Rolic.
I grinned at the enforcers. Rolic was brushing away coffee he had just spilled on his lap. Apolik stared at me as if I were the neighbor’s dog dumping on his lawn.
“Hey, if that guy from Sweden shows up, tell him I need to talk to him, would you?” I asked Jill.
“Sure thing, Elson. Here you go.” She handed me a carrier for the coffee. A wispy silver streak in her long black hair caught the sunlight, drawing a bright line down her locks. She looked older, harsher. I looked back at the enforcers, wondering what is was about them that had gotten under Jill’s skin.
It took Jill longer to pour the coffee than it did for us to arrive in Washington D.C., Melanthios’s stronghold. We were greeted by an ancient wooden gate greyed by centuries of sun and rain. A path extended into the forest behind us, curving down toward the steep bank of the Potomac River. I could hear a soft deep rumble not too far into the woodland as millions of gallons of water drifted past. Ahead of us, the gate granted us access to a wide lawn, which flanked Melanthios’s headquarters.
The place was a Revolutionary War-era house. Tall and white, it looked new. The enormous lawn was green and healthy. Cherry trees surrounded a pond with a fountain statue of George Washington. Several different kinds of birds popped from tree to tree, their jumbled songs filling the air.
It was a very peaceful place.
Strangely, I always felt at home in the old house. It came from a time when men strove to create something new out of the old, something better. Iron men on wooden ships came here to extend the British Empire, to make more Europe. What they discovered was a land incompatible with the Old World. The frontier was a crucible upon which the natives and winters hardened and sharpened and shaped the settlers. They were no longer British or French or Spaniards. Europe, great and glorious as it was, could not constrain the spirit of these people, though it had tried. Engineers were all about evolution. This house reminded me of revolution.
We entered the great hall and continued without announcement or pause into a large office in the center of the main floor. It was the business office. I guess Melanthios meant business.
The room probably hadn’t changed since the days of George Washington. It was all hardwood floors and trim covered by centuries of lacquer and polish. A huge desk stood in the center, surrounded by a few chairs.
Seated behind the desk was Melanthios. An ordinary-looking guy, it was hard to believe that his simple frame contained such might and age. He reported directly to Glial, one of the Preceptors, a Lord of Law. Melanthios wore jeans and a thin cashmere sweater. His brown hair was long and flawlessly styled.
Next to him stood a tall, attractive, Asian-looking woman. She wore a perfectly cut and pressed navy business suit.
Her fists clenched as I entered the room.
Melanthios looked. “Ah, Elson. I’m honestly surprised you came. But glad, nonetheless.” He spied my coffee. “And you brought hot coffee from that shop of yours, great. They have the best coffee.”
I plodded over to the desk and distributed the stuff. I gave the cup intended for me to the woman.
“What have you been up to recently, Elson?” Melanthios asked as he sat back and sipped.
“Oh, the usual small projects. Trying to make the world a better place, you know.”
The first rule in speaking with any prince is to provide no information. They’ll always use it against you.
He smiled. “I mean really, what on this earth have you been doing?” His gaze pierced me like a javelin.
“I don’t follow,” I said.
He nodded to the woman standing at his side. She still didn’t look happy. Nor was she enjoying my cup of coffee. She should give it back, then.
“This is Aello. She is of Thought and a faithful servant of Law.” He gave her a sideways glance. “And I don’t believe I’d be out of line to say she’d like to see great harm come to you.”
Denial seemed to be the only course of action--even though I didn’t know what I was denying.
“I don’t have any issues with Thought. You can ask Diomedes. He’ll vouch for me.” Aello looked like she was about to come out of her skin. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. So I shut up.
Melanthios studied me for a long time.
“Aello, please tell Elson what you witnessed yesterday.”
She took a step toward me and tried to stare a hole into my face. I resisted the urge to rub my forehead.
“I was guarding the Thoth, a repository of extensive archives and other Thought assets. I sensed Elson approaching in great haste, but knew him to be a friend of Diomedes, who owned the Thoth and all her precious cargo.”
My world became more complicated, confusing, and a little irritating. She continued.
“So instead of prohibiting his approach, I went to meet him onboard. As I arrived, I witnessed Elson destroying the ship and her cargo, murdering her crew without hesitation. It was a premeditated attack of astronomical effect and cruelty.”
Aello glared at me, but stood straight and still. She was burning inside. Thoughts of violence against yours truly rose from her like steam. I could see it. But she stood motionless.
Melanthios spoke quietly. “Elson, you are unique in my experience as one who denies both Law and Chaos. But in all the time I’ve watched you, you’ve never been involved in such a direct attack.” He obviously hadn’t been watching very closely. “Would you care to explain why you did it?” There was no threat in his voice. It was all business.
“Uh, a friend asked me to?” I said. There was no point in lying now. But my gut told me that there was more than just a boat in play here.
“A friend? Who?”
“Mmmm . . . I’d rather not say.” I thought Aello was inching closer to me. I inched the other way.
“Elson,” Melanthios leaned forward and spoke more slowly. “If you had declared yourself for Chaos, I would have had you in a cell in the Abyss long ago. The only reason I let you run free is that, generally, you don’t harm the cause. You don’t do anything of significance, as far as I can tell. Now it’s time to cooperate.”
I didn’t know if Melanthios knew about Death. I’d never seen Death with another Engineer and I’d never heard Engineers talk about him as if he were real. Engineers tend to think they know the “real” truth about the universe. Anything outside of their understanding is fiction. I detested their tidy view of the world, but I leveraged it whenever I could. I wasn’t going to cough up Death to a pencil-neck like Melanthios.
“I can only say, Melanthios, that in all the time I’ve known him, he has worked only for the good guys,” I said with a straight face. It was true, but perhaps slightly misleading.
“Okay. Did your friend say why one lawful Engineer would attack another?”
“Uh . . . he said it was a trade secret.” I wasn’t getting ahead in the score. I could tell. But Melanthios seemed to believe I was speaking the truth.
“So a ‘friend’ asks you to murder a crew dedicated to Law and to destroy treasures of Thought along with it, gives you no reason at all, and you do it.”
It sounded so irresponsible, the way he said it.
“These ‘treasures,’ they aren’t replaceable, are they?” I asked.
“No,” Aello said.
Melanthios stood up and began to pace. “Tell me about Aeson’s operatives.”
Now there was a good opportunity for a half-truth if I’ve ever seen one, and I have.
“I didn’t touch them. Why?”
“Because they’re all dead, all of them in North America, anyway. Because seventy-five prominent and some not-so-prominent citizens of my domain had their heads explode, all in public, with no evidence of the cause. We’re calling it an act of terrorism, but it’s more than that, and I think you know something about it.”
I made a mental note to kill Death the next time I saw him.
“Did you say all of Aeson’s operatives were exploded?” I asked. I thought about it. I’m pretty sure I had used the word “key” when mentioning the operatives to Death. Yep, I had said “key,” not “all.” I was sure.
“Every one. And this has set off a chain reaction that, normally, I would think was beyond your means. However, let me narrate for you the events of the last day or so, and you tell me what to think.
“All in a single moment, seventy-five people with no obvious connection but one have their heads explode in a gratuitous fashion all over my domain. At that very same moment you are witnessed destroying, also in my domain, all the assets belonging to Diomedes; the same Diomedes who had publicly opposed Aeson only a day before--cursed him, I believe.
“Aeson believes Diomedes had his operatives killed to oppose his development and demands restitution in the form of Diomedes’ assets so he can keep his timetable. But to everyone’s surprise, Diomedes now has no assets. To top off the madness, Diomedes, perhaps the smartest Engineer in existence and one of the few who, I’m told, actually trusts you, manages to get himself captured and imprisoned by Aeson, who believes Diomedes is lying about his assets and claims to hold him outside my domain until he makes restitution.