I tried to reach that small, blind, and lonely presence, to speak to it, to ease its pain if I could, to ask it to let go if I could not, but its walls were too high, its barriers too thick—it was too weak, and I was not strong enough. I would only fail in the attempt to bind such a thing. Failure would mean my death. I wondered, had I the strength to control it, if I had the monstrous cruelty to extend its pain only to enslave it to my will—but I didn’t, and so the point was moot.
Instead of trying to bind the heart of the Gold, I pulled it to me and cradled it close as I severed every tie that held it to the continual torment of its continued existence. Then I broke the walls of its solitude on the rock of my will, giving that innocent monster peace the only way I knew. Holding it to my heart, I felt its breath blow out loosely around me and fade away to nothing.
I fell back out of the storm, through the ragged streamers of the last few elements of my Legion as they descended on the broken pieces of the Gold’s Legion. The Gold’s Legion was more of a mockery of a Legion, as all that remained after I had brought its rage and pain and fear at last to an end were the parts of the monster held captive to its failed attempt to reach out and break down the barriers of its intolerable solitude. I fell to my knees in the dust, looking up to watch the clouds wisp away into nothingness. The winds died away without a whimper of protest. Debris rained down over the landscape where the murderous storm had raged.
I watched the shredded white blossoms of a flower fall gently down like the pieces of an unfulfilled promise. I grieved, not only for its victims, but for the madness in all of us that brought something like the Gold into the world and left it to its pain and loneliness. I had no more answer for the Gold than I’d had for the miner in the town behind me.
If I had been a poet, I would have wept.
“Everyone alright?” I asked the Legion quietly as I gathered them in.
I received an equally subdued, collective assent.
I rose to my feet, searching for the Way I needed. I could feel a path calling to me, just past the hedgerows and over the fence, strong with the scent of possibility. I bent, picked up my battered hat, dusted it off against my leg, and went to answer the call.
CHAPTER VIII
I TOOK the hard Way, which meant the short Way, to the outskirts of CrossTown and home. I knew that Fetch would be looking for me. The Gold had not met even the imprecise description that Titania had given me of the spirit I had been contracted to banish from her lands. In any event, the contract seemed to be little more than a formal way of declaring me to be fair game for Fetch. The lords of Faerie tended to act by their own seemingly capricious set of rules, but even an outsider like myself could recognize an assassination attempt.
I still did not know if Titania had something personal against me, liked taking out the mortal competition, or had simply chosen to use me as a counter in some game involving Silverhand and his vendetta, though I leaned heavily toward the last. I did have certain reservations, though. If she had wanted to eliminate me, she didn’t have to take this roundabout route. Something more lay behind her game.
At any rate, I had no intention of making things easy on Fetch. I traveled through realms dominated by cultures heavy in the use of iron, often on thin Roads paralleling iron tracks on which ran a vast array of machines, usually large and belching smoke or something worse, generally traveling in a considerable hurry, and always composed of iron. The air went from a smooth country vintage to something harsher, something that bit lightly at the back of the throat with the taint of technology. I followed that scent, though I had no taste for it, skirting the edges of cities that glowed with light and more illusory promise than Faerie itself.
The Road that I traveled curved in toward the TechTown side of CrossTown. I had no problem with that at all. I debated dropping by home, but Fetch would doubtless be waiting there to pick up my trail. Lying low in TechTown for a while might not be a bad thing, but I wouldn’t be able to hide forever. I needed to talk to Corvinus. Aside from the fact that he had asked me to reach him earlier (an invitation I had accepted) he might have been able to give me some advice about my current situation.
I had options of my own, of course. I knew that I couldn’t take on Fetch or Titania or Silverhand directly, but two out of three wouldn’t be leaving Faerie, so if I stayed away from Faerie I’d at least improve my odds. As for Jack, I could involve Eliza Drake or Chimereon, both Powers in their own right not necessarily friendly to Faerie—but I didn’t want to owe either if I could possibly help it.
Sometimes living in CrossTown seems to be nothing more than navigating a tangled web of obligation. My particular web had enough tangles at that moment, thank you very much, without adding further complication.
The Road broadened before me, opening out to nearly limitless possibility, and I knew I had arrived at the environs of CrossTown. The Way had always been difficult there, easily leading one astray. Learning how to navigate the treacherous shoals of CrossTown’s sea of probability is the first and most difficult task for those learning to travel the WanderWays.
I found the frenetic pulse of TechTown, a thin electric line burning hot through the snarled alternative Ways of high technology. I set my foot on the path to TechTown, then doubled over as sudden weakness spasmed through my limbs and darkness rose before my eyes. I fought the malaise, summoning Blade to me through a connection gone tenuous.
I felt Blade move, felt something focused and sharp and powerful cut through the barrier thickening around me. Then it dropped away as if it had never been, and Blade walked with me. I paused on the Road, shaken, and then moved aside hurriedly as a blur whipped past me.
“What was that?” Blade asked softly.
“A hovercycle, I think,” I said as lightly as I could manage.
I felt disapproval leaking past Blade’s personal barriers. “You know what I mean. The wall I felt rise between us. What happened?”
“Good question.” I called to the White Rose. “Anything wrong on the physical side?”
“Nothing that a proper diet and a less stressful occupation couldn’t resolve.”
“Everyone’s a comedian.”
“She’s right, though,” Blade said thoughtfully. “Whatever that was, it wasn’t physical.”
“It came from inside.” The White Wolf rose from the depths to dog my heels.
“Some lingering effect from the battle with the Gold, perhaps?” I asked. “Fatigue?”
The White Wolf snorted. “Fatigue it was not.”
Blade responded more slowly. “I agree. It wasn’t simple fatigue. Though it may well be some lingering infection from the Gold. You were isolated there. The Gold had a considerable Legion of its own that fell to us. Through us, you absorbed that Legion. There could be problems associated with the assimilation of that large and varied a force. And you haven’t rested since your conquest before that. The Jigsaw Man, Vincent’s ghost. You need to take some time to settle the new powers down.”
The White Wolf grinned. “True. Rebel presences could explain much. Perhaps your Legion is no longer of a mind. One of the hazards associated with sorcery, I would say.”
I stopped to regard him. Shadows crisscrossed the ground around me, falling from vehicles riding the air above. I had reached the edges of TechTown’s maze of traffic. “And where would you stand in the event of such a rebellion?” I asked the White Wolf softly.
I felt Blade at my side, waiting … and the White Wolf laughed. “I’m not fond of captivity, that’s true enough, but what I just felt did not have the flavor of a simple desire for freedom. Underneath it all was a desire of its own, to consume you, to consume your Legion. I want no part of something like that. Reminds me too much of the Gold, but with more malice than desperation. That scares me.”
“There’s truth in that,” Blade noted. “There’s also a certain amount of deception.”
I rubbed my forehead with a hand still slightly shaking. “I would expect no less.”
&nb
sp; Reaction had begun to set in. All of a sudden I had to consider evading Jack or dealing with him while my Legion was divided. I thought of Shadow and Bane. Both powerful, independent spirits, either could have been responsible for the barrier. Either could have been testing me. Or it could have been something new, something taken from the Gold.
I brought up subtle barriers of my own, distancing the Legion from the three of us. “I need the two of you to investigate this. Root out the Rebel.”
“You suspect …” Blade began.
“… Everyone,” finished the White Wolf. “Otherwise, why the barrier? And why the two of us? Because we’re unlikely to work together, you and I. We’re both aware of the suspicion, aware of one another—if one of us was responsible, it would be difficult to pull off another attack without the other being instantly on guard.”
“What about the defenses?” Blade did not sound pleased. “Who will you trust?”
“Bright Angel can take responsibility for the defenses. And I will be watching.”
I let the barrier fade, and they nodded and faded from conscious perception. Bright Angel came to me when I called, wings of light folding around her. “Why has Blade pulled his forces from the walls of your spirit?”
“You felt the touch of darkness?”
“How could I not?”
I nodded. “Blade sweeps the inner defenses, searching for a cause. I need you to man the outer walls.”
Bright Angel cocked her head, her gaze searching my soul. “You have your own defenses engaged. You suspect the Legion of rebellion.”
I smiled fondly in spite of myself. “I feel safe with you guarding me, as always. However, I fear infection from the Gold.”
Bright Angel nodded slowly. “I can understand that. You took on more than you ever have with the conquest of the Gold’s Legion. But be aware, that may only have provided an opportunity for any who had been waiting. Not all the Legion loves you.”
“Sorcery isn’t about love. Sorcery is about domination.”
Bright Angel shrugged. “Not that the two are necessarily mutually exclusive—but that is my point. Spirits are more than tools, as you know, and some may yet nurture a desire to again be free.”
“You?” I asked quietly.
Her head bowed. “I am … content in this place and in this role. I fear you, perhaps I even love you a little. I would not see you come to harm, if only because of the protection you have given me in exchange for service. In spite of that, I will never forget what it means to be free.”
I said nothing as she turned and went up to the watchtowers of my soul. Thus braced within and without, thinking deeply on the twin subjects of freedom and rebellion, I crossed over into TechTown proper.
Skirting between buildings that stretched to the clouds in a gloom only increased by the traffic above, I dodged a holo-graphic, barely dressed shill for a strip joint. Her ample, illusory flesh faded before the assault of a mercenary recruiting ad. I left the two of them grappling behind me, keeping an eye peeled for further animated advertisements.
I thought about Anthony Vayne and the Knights of the New Temple, and grinned at the thought of Fetch following me there. The Templars practiced all forms of combat, including spiritual combat, as many a hostile spirit or Faerie lord had found to his dismay. On equal ground, I would probably still put my money on Jack against the Templars. Only a fool would tackle him within the environs of Faerie, but in the Knights’ own hallowed grounds, Jack would be on the defensive. At that point, all bets were off.
CHAPTER IX
THE DOORS to the NeoTemplars’ Temple in TechTown stood wide, open to all, as the doors to any decent temple should be. Entering the vast open space of the public worship area was easy. Fortunately, I hadn’t come in the midst of an active service. Though surcoated brothers militant patrolled among the columns, none moved to stop me as I strode toward the small door unobtrusively set behind heavy curtains hanging across the back wall. I pulled the curtains aside and stepped through into the vestibule that separated the public area from the private. A stocky Knight Brother looked up from his desk as I entered. One hand dropped below the surface of his desk.
It warmed my heart to see proper caution. “I’d like to see Anthony Vayne.”
The Knight Brother looked at me skeptically. “Anthony Vayne? Knight Commander Anthony Vayne?”
I nodded.
He twisted uncomfortably in his seat. I wondered idly if he wore a hair shirt under his habit. “He doesn’t have much patience for interruptions.”
“I’m not saying that he’ll be glad to see me. But he’ll want to know I’m here.”
He reached for the phone. I studied the walls of the vestibule—bare alloy done over lightly in institutional gray—the walls of a fortress, an asylum, or both. When Vayne opened the door leading from the back, his face looked more grim than usual. “Zethus. How long have you been back in town?”
“Just arrived.”
He gestured for me to follow him inside, holding the door open for me. The smartlocks all answered to palm print, and we both knew I wasn’t on file and wouldn’t be unless I joined the Order. I didn’t see that happening any time soon.
I followed Vayne through a brightly lit corridor and up a lift tube. When he led me into his working office, I relaxed gratefully in the plush chair he kept for guests. I took time, as I always did, to study the paintings. While they looked to vary from sharply defined realistic landscapes to abstract smears of color, I knew that they were all true to the places he had been. I had been to many of those same places. They had been accurately captured by a master’s eye. I had seen his work before: I had even caught him painting once. The easel stood inconspicuously in one corner of the room, draped with a white, silk cloth.
As far as I knew, Vayne always painted from memory. He considered it an exercise in discipline as well as a recreation and release.
He sat across the desk from me in the straight-backed, hard-seated chair he reserved for his own use. “I suppose you know that you are currently the legal prey of a certain well known Faerie Hunter,” he said.
“That’s why I came here. To see if you could put me up for a while.”
I could read nothing in his face. “I don’t think that you should stay here. It may be larger than you think. Someone’s placed a bounty on you. Fifty gold.”
I blinked. “What?” I held up a hand as Vayne opened his mouth. “I know, I know. But it doesn’t make sense. It wasn’t in the contract. Jack doesn’t work that way.”
“The bounty was placed by the Whitesnakes,” Vayne said.
I blinked again. “You’re kidding.” I looked at his face. “You’re not. How much bounty on you?”
He shook his head.
My eyebrows shot up. “None? What, they spent all of their coppers on me? They should be at least as annoyed at you as at me. Fifty gold seems not only a bit extreme, but a bit beyond what I’d have expected them to be able to scrape together. They didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of after we banished their Avatar. The Whitesnakes find a banker? None of that makes any sense. And I don’t see a Whitesnake bounty making the difference in my staying here. You’d like the bait, and the opportunity to come to grips with them again.” I met his gaze directly. “You’re not telling me something.”
His lips tightened. “You need to talk to Emerantha Pale. You can use my phone here.”
“That’s generous of you,” I sneered. Then I sighed. “Ah, hell, I’m sorry Vayne. I didn’t know, and you’re right. I really don’t want the Order in the middle of all of this.”
“You don’t understand.” He touched something behind the desk, and as a holographic interface blossomed before me, he rose to his feet and left the room.
I placed the call, wondering why he wanted me to talk to Pale. She was a colleague of Corvinus’s and head of the Practitioner’s Union in CrossTown. It couldn’t be good news. On the other hand, Emerantha had known me for as long as I’d been Corvinus
’s apprentice. We had always been friendly.
I didn’t have to wait long. Light crashed in on itself like a collapsing wave, and Emerantha’s features sculpted themselves from the foam. “Zethus. Are you calling from the Knight Commander’s location?”
I nodded.
“If that’s not secure, nothing is.” Her eyes were bright against the pallor of her skin. Emerantha’s albino features might have seemed shocking on someone else—on her they looked good. On the other hand, the skin of her face drew tightly across the bones. I had not seen her show stress before. “What have you and your mentor been up to, boy?”
I let the boy crack slide, since I detected not the slightest hint of humor in her expression and tone. “What do you mean?”
“You know damned well what I mean. At least you had better.”
I closed my eyes, waited a slow five count, breathed deeply, and only then opened my eyes to meet her sharp gaze. “It’s been a long, bad day. I’ve had both cultist and Faerie hits put out on me today. I don’t have the patience for games. What’s going on?”
Emerantha’s lips twisted. “Were you and Corvinus working on anything … special? Anything particularly valuable or dangerous, say?”
“I haven’t worked with the Raven for a while now.” I frowned. “He left a message this morning for me to reach him at my earliest convenience. I wish I had. I might have saved myself some trouble. But I don’t know what he’s working on. Why don’t you ask him?”
Emerantha held my gaze, probing steadily with her eyes.
I leaned forward. “What’s going on?”
She sat back slowly. “So you haven’t heard. There’s no easy way to tell you this. Corvinus is dead.”
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