by Garon Whited
Here and now, though, if I were only slightly more cynical, I might suspect someone was letting the orku and galgar into the city so there would be a second-class citizenry to look down on. Promoting an us-vs-them mentality might be good for morale. But I’m not cynical enough to believe it. No. I don’t. Really. It would take a politician to come up with such an idea and implement it.
Damn.
While I was in my scrying room, getting an overview of how screwed the world was, a Knight of Shadow shoved the pivot-door open. Since the Order was back in town, the dusks on bodyguard detail were out doing other things. In through the door came a fiery comet, gleefully screaming “Provus!” I knelt in time to intercept it, taking the hit. I survived the impact without exploding and Tymara wrapped her arms around my neck, squeezing me. It was highly uncomfortable. She had her shoulder right in my throat. I’m sure she didn’t mean to, but it was a decent stranglehold on people who need to breathe. It kept me from talking immediately, so I couldn’t greet Tianna properly as she followed her missile into the room. I stood up, bringing Tymara up with me, and shifted her to a hip, careful of my saber’s hilt.
“Hello to both of you,” I offered, finally. “I don’t think you’ve ever come to visit me before.”
“We never know when you’re in,” Tianna pointed out, “and it’s a long walk.”
“Valid points,” I agreed. “What brings you to my lair?”
Tianna glanced at the sand table and the dissolving world. Tymara kissed my cheek.
“You, provus! All my mommas wanna talk to you.”
“Really! How delightful!” I enthused, feeling a sense of dread creep over me. How did the saying go? The symbol for “family” is the symbol for “drama,” drawn inside a little house?
“We sent messages, but everybody said you was busy.”
“Were busy,” I corrected. “I was busy, yes. I’m finishing up some things here so I can focus on fixing,” I gestured to the sand table, “that.”
Tymara and Tianna both considered the encroaching wall of dissolution. Tymara turned her head to look at me.
“You go kick its ass.”
“Tymara!” Tianna snapped. I chuckled.
“Where did you hear the phrase?” I inquired.
“One of the black knights. He said you were gonna.”
“I see. Well, it’s not polite to say such a thing.”
“It isn’t?”
“It isn’t. The black knights are paragons of virtue when it comes to—excuse me—‘kicking ass,’ as they put it, but they are not all perfectly mannered in the less combative aspects. So ask your mother if it’s something a lady would say. All right?”
“I will. Can I see the table?”
“What’s the Word of Power?”
“Please?”
I put her on a chair so she could stand on it and play with the table. I left her to it while I sidled up to Tianna.
“What news?”
“The Mother is not pleased.”
I gasped and clutched at my chest over my heart with both hands, eyes wide, mouth open. Tianna gave me the Disapproving Frown.
“I’m serious!”
“No doubt,” I agreed, relaxing again. “I have to joke or I’ll scream. What’s she unhappy about this time?”
“We’re here.”
“She expected the world to end sooner?”
“No! We’re here, in what’s left of it.”
“I don’t get it. This is the safest place on the plate.”
“Are you being deliberately dense?”
“Not deliberately. I don’t understand what she’s upset about. I’m doing the best I can to preserve a sizable chunk of Karvalen, with special attention to people I know personally. –Except Bob,” I added. “He can drift through the void, for all I care, and it seems to be his plan.”
“The issue, as I understand it, is your attention to everyone else,” she clarified. “You can move among the material realms—of which there are many, or so I am told.”
“Yes. What of it?”
“The Mother feels we should be removed from this world and conducted to another.”
“A less doomed one?”
“Yes.”
“And you will be,” I agreed. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
“As soon as possible. I just finished setting up a—nevermind. It’s complicated. T’yl will be in charge of searching through material realms and looking for a good place to establish a foothold for the people of Karvalen. When he finds one, everyone will go there. In the meantime, the city will float through the void like a ship on the ocean.”
“That’s not what the Mother had in mind.”
“Tymara?” I called. She looked up, snatching her hands back from the edge of the sand table. I checked what she was doing. The viewpoint was over one of the city gates. People were still streaming in.
“I only wanted to see,” she offered.
“That’s what it’s for,” I agreed. “Go ahead and play with it. It’s fine. Your mom and I are going down the hall. We’ll be right back. All right?”
“Yes, provus!”
I offered Tianna my arm and escorted her out, ignoring her glances of burning inquisition. Six bodyguards did a little dance where two stayed in the room with Tymara and the rest followed us.
Once we were in another room, door shut and guarded from the outside, I sat Tianna down, carefully put myself in another chair, steepled my fingers, and looked at her over my too-sharp fingernails.
“I want you to listen to me,” I began, softly. “Listen carefully, because I have a limited amount of time and I am—there’s no other word for it—wasting it having this discussion. I need your undivided attention. Do I have it?”
“Yes.”
“I love all three of you: Amber, you, and Tymara. I will always look out for your welfare in whatever ways I am able. I do not have, at present, a world to which I may send you where you will be safe and reasonably comfortable. T’yl is—or will shortly be—searching for one. In the meantime, I have gone to great lengths to provide this city with people who will establish an economic, social, and genetic basis for a colony of the Crown in a foreign land. I have also worked diligently and sometimes desperately to see to it the city can survive the ending of the world. This should make it possible for T’yl to find the new, safer world for you and everyone else.
“Shortly, I will depart the city. My mission is too complicated to explain, but my intent is, as always, to increase your chances of survival, not to mention of peace and happiness. This mission is likely to cause me considerable personal distress—physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. I will do it unflinchingly because it has to be done.
“Unfortunately, my busybody ex-mother-in-law, your Lady of Flame, is jogging my elbow, back-seat driving, and generally interfering in matters she needs to keep her pyrotechnic nose out of. I love you, Granddaughter, but I do not have time to listen to a busybody goddess with a personal axe to grind. No, I don’t want to talk to her. I just said I don’t have time for her. The only person who I choose to make time for is you. You can tell her, from me, to shut the hell up and stay out of my way until I want to talk to her. Have I made myself clear?”
“I think you have, yes, sir. You don’t want to talk to Her?”
“No. If she looks out of your eyes, this interview is over.”
“I understand. So does She.”
“Good. Now relax. I am not upset with you. I am annoyed with her—and I still have much to do to ensure your survival, safety, and happiness. Do you think you can convince her to shut up and stay shut up until I’m finished?”
“I will make it happen, provus. I promise.”
I took a breath, let it out, and nodded.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I had to take that tone.”
“It could have been worse,” Tianna admitted, smiling weakly. “When we left the room, I was afraid you didn’t want to get into a shouting matc
h with the Mother in front of Tymara.”
“I was worried it might come to that. I’m glad it didn’t.”
“I’ll go get Tymara and we’ll head down to the Temple. I’ll talk to my mother and we’ll both try to persuade the Mother to wait a bit.”
“Reassure her about my intentions, please. No doubt she’s concerned about your safety, too.”
“No doubt.” We both stood up and Tianna hugged me. I squeezed her in return and patted her back. “Provus?”
“Yes, little one?”
“You say you aren’t the Demon King, or the Lord of Shadow, or any of the things people say you are.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“What are you, then?”
“That’s a complicated question.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“True. It’s a complicated answer.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Maybe you’re right. But to give you a full answer would take longer than I have left.”
“You will come back?”
“As long as I survive, I will always come back. This is my home.”
“I guess I want you to say you’ll survive,” she answered, finally.
“I won’t lie to you. I plan to survive and to return. As always, I could be wrong.”
She pulled back and looked up into my face.
“Be right.”
I stood in the ruins of the upper courtyard and watched the southeast quadrant of the city. The advancing line of chaos was in clear view from up there. The blue-sky simulation was still a wall, not a dome, but at least it obscured much of the view and kept people from panicking. True, when the chaos washed over the city, everyone would see it, but they weren’t staring out at it and getting all worked up about it. It would be up high enough it could be mistaken for strange clouds. Hopefully.
The courtyard was something of a mess. The mountain was still absorbing fallen rocks and closing up claw-gouges from the dragon’s visit. The Kingsway was mostly intact, although the uppermost portion was missing. When the dragon clawed its way down the mountainside, a wingtip brushed it and sent the top few dozen yards crashing down.
I stood on the inner step and placed both hands atop an intact section of courtyard wall. I heard footsteps and Beltar approached, joining me at my section of wall.
“Come to watch the end of the world?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
“Perhaps. You have labored long and mightily to hold it at bay.”
“Harder than I’ve worked in a long time,” I agreed. “What’ve you got there?”
Beltar presented me with a box. I opened it and found an almost spherical construct of crystal and metal, about the size of my fist. The primary crystal in the center was clear, finely cut, and bright enough to shine even in the light of the artificial firmament. Other, smaller crystals were in there, but harder to make out due to the twisting of wire within. Some of the metal looked like orichalcum, but I’m not sure anyone in Rethven knows how to make it. The rest of the wire was a silvery metal with a slight bluish tinge. Osmium, probably. The wire of the structure was strangely bent and angled, interweaving and spiraling, braiding and curling to trick the eyes into believing the volume inside the sphere was greater than the outer surface enclosed.
Then again, maybe it wasn’t trickery.
I accepted it and inspected it. There was power in it and quite a lot of it. It felt… familiar.
“I was instructed,” Beltar told me, “to fetch it and to give it to you.”
“Instructed?” I repeated. “Who told you to—oh. Nevermind.”
It was you, wasn’t it? I asked, silently. My altar ego answered, sounding smug.
It was. I was pretty sure it would work, but I wasn’t certain. There are aspects I’m still not sure about. It seems to work, so I’m happy with it. I didn’t intend to test it like this, though.
Fantastic. What the hell is it?
It’s me. Well, some of me. I know the plan. Secure the city of Vios and everyone in it. It may be wasted effort, but it’s an insurance policy against failure. I approve. But you’re about to try and pursue the Orb. Bringing this—the main crystal pulsed with a polychrome flare, like a rainbow’s sneeze—means I get to come with you.
Is this a quantum computer core?
Yes.
I thought the scintillation looked familiar. And you’re in it?
Not exactly. The crystal holds my imprint—a more detailed and functional imprint than the one we used for the faith-generators. An executable copy, if you like, instead of an archived one. The rest of the sigil is both containment and an antenna for it keeping it updated. When it gets out of my range, it will run on its own, cut off from me.
I get to carry a god in my pocket?
A teeny-tiny one, but yes. And wipe that smirk off your face.
No. Looking smug is not something I get to do too often. Phenomenal cosmic power… and itty-bitty living space! Whee!
I now regret even having the idea, he grouched.
I don’t. How did you make this?
I have a Diogephone, sort of, or Diogenes has a deiphone. Remember how you set things up so I could talk to Diogenes?
I recall.
We’ve been working on communicating and this is one result. I had him construct it to my specifications and send it through an elf-box for me. It’s been in the Temple of Shadow for a while, undergoing testing. I’ve been making sure it’s tuned and functional. Originally, my idea was to use it as a probe for establishing myself in new worlds.
A holy match to set religious fire to a planet?
You do have a talent for putting things in the worst possible way, he grumped.
Said the semihemidemigod.
You’re not funny.
Noted.
“Thank you, Beltar. You have done very well, indeed.” I closed the box and found it had latches to keep it closed as well as straps to hang it from my belt.
“It is our pleasure to serve, my lord. Will you be departing now?”
“Not immediately. I want to watch as the chaos engulfs the city. Soon after, though.”
Beltar nodded and looked out over the wall with me as the expanding border of chaos swept toward us.
If I was completely wrong about my defensive workings, the speed of the chaos was still slow enough I could run to the nearer gate room and force a connection to Tamaril. I would have even more incentive to find a way to change the past if the city of Vios disintegrated. Sprinting for the exit was my backup plan if everything else failed. If everything went perfectly, I was still going to Tamaril, but at least everyone would be safe while I did it.
The storm front of writhing color and motion met the magical Firmament. At first, it was hard to tell. The two didn’t interact in any dramatic way. There were no sudden flares of light or lightning, no screeching wails like sound equipment feedback. It was hardly noticeable. Where the chaos met the shield, a faint orange glow started. It brightened slightly. In moments, the glow of the Firmament expanded. The chaos involved more and more of the sphere of force, spreading the orange halo along the surface. The glow climbed higher, above the blue-tinged wall, and worked its way over and around, slowly engulfing the city.
I heard a little screaming from below. I had to remind myself it was not my problem. City guardsmen were out in force, focused on keeping people from turning into a mob. They were backed, as I suspected, by large men in black armor. Civil order was in the hands of people better suited to keep it. I can’t be everywhere and do everything. I have to let other people do their jobs.
I wish I didn’t have to hear it, though.
The orange light grew no brighter, but it did grow wider. In time, it covered over the whole of the city of Vios, washing over the entire artificial Firmament.
Did we jolt, just a hair, when it finished? Did we break off from the remains of the world and float? Maybe. I’m not sure. Regardless, we were adrift in the void, now, and the city wasn’t disintegrating.
The power flowed smoothly into the Firmament, protecting us behind the shield. The simulated sky-spell continued to build. All the quasi-mechanical life-support spells were doing what I told them to do. The only things going crazy were some of the people. Those are always the difficult part of any project.
I’m pretty sure I could do a wonderful impression of a hermit. Sadly, I need humans for their occasional nutritional value. Alas.
All right. If nothing major changed while I wasn’t looking, the advance of chaos wouldn’t reach Tamaril for a little while, yet. This gave me plenty of time to gather my scattered wits, some nerve, and my things. Beltar walked with me, saying nothing. Bronze met me in the lower gate room. Firebrand on my right hip, saber on my left, cloak around my shoulders, ballistic underwear, Amulet of Many Spells, both rings, damaged armor… Yeah, I wore my armor. It was still pulling itself together, but it looked much better and wasn’t leaving filthy streaks on anything it touched. I might need it on this trip.
I locked my helmet in place, tugged my gauntlets tight, and got to work on some spells for me. Until now, all my efforts were geared toward preserving the city of Vios and everyone in it, sort of as a backup plan to my current plans to fix everything. Or prevent the need for fixing. Or—no, temporal tenses confuse me. Forget it.
Now I had some time to suck up energy from the mountain, both magical power and vital force, for building spells. I would need a duplicate of the Gate-accessory my demonic version used on the Great Arch of Zirafel. I had to build it in advance, however, since there was no way I could draw the spell diagram in blood. I would also need to charge it in advance, since I wasn’t bringing sacrificial victims along. With the mountain contributing energy—and lots of it, since it was now a mountain-sized pet rock instead of a small continent—assembling the spell went smoothly. What else might I need? I couldn’t think of anything.
I faced my enchanted arch. Beltar, apparently not wanting to watch, backed away.