Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Just thinkin’ ’bout things a little too hard, Sera. Ain’t nothin’ that some rest won’t cure.”

  “Rest, which you never allow yourself.” She looked very alien tonight. There was nothing soft about her; she was all hard edges and fire. He got the peculiar feeling that something had happened. He didn’t like it, but figured he’d let the issue lay for the moment.

  “Ne’er any for the wicked, right?”

  “There are many more wicked than you, who sleep well of a night.” Definitely, she was angry. Not at him, but . . . angry.

  “Yeah, well, there’s more of them than there are of us, so I’m forced to pull the occasional double.” He took another sip of his beer, thought for a moment, and decided to chance the question. “Y’already know my problems. What’s on yer mind, Angel?”

  “Frustration. It is a common human feeling, I am told.” Abruptly, the fire dimmed, the hard edges softened. Her voice lost the otherworldly quality. “Therefore I should do better at controlling it. This half-and-half life, spirit and material . . . confuses me, at times. And you should rest. What happened?”

  “I’ll rest when I’m dead; ought to be plenty of time for it, then.” He gazed off towards the city. “As for what happened, well, I got in a fight with a—”

  John was interrupted when the door to the HQ’s roof opened; it was Untermensch with a pack of cigarettes in his hand.

  “Apologies, comrade. I did not mean to interrupt.” He picked a quiet corner opposite from John and lit up. When John turned back to where Sera had been, he found the space empty.

  “Catch y’later, Sera,” he muttered under his breath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Heaven Beside You

  CODY MARTIN AND MERCEDES LACKEY

  Only the Commissar and a few choice people—of whom I was one—knew that Fei Li had gone off the reservation.

  None of us knew quite how far . . .

  * * *

  The General arrived at Verdigris’ office at the appointed time, dressed in conservative business attire. The snake had recommended it after Shen Xue had started to turn heads and become the topic of gossip in reception. The General did not care for the opinions of lesser men; there was only one purpose that tied him to Dominic Verdigris, and that was the destruction of the Thulians at all cost. Still, if Verdigris believed that he would arouse less suspicion and garner less attention by dressing in such a deplorable fashion, he would suffer it. Though it did itch terribly compared to the silks from his homeland that he normally wore. Was there such a thing as a silk suit?

  The General pushed through the double doors to Verdigris’ office, striding toward his desk confidently. Khanjar was by his side, as always, and looking less than pleased to see him, as always.

  “Thank you for gracing us with your presence, General. You’re ever a vision for these poor eyes, especially in that lovely suit! Would you care for some tea, perhaps something stronger?” He gestured towards an amply stocked bar to the left of the desk, all of the libations in tasteful crystal decanters. Perception and what it accomplished meant a lot to this fiend.

  “What do you require of me now, brute?” The General was in no mood for pleasantries. Normally, he encouraged formality and passing time with honored persons before getting to the heart of whatever matter was at hand. But Verdigris was no honored person to him.

  Verdigris sighed theatrically. “Straight to business as usual, I see. If nothing else, you are admirably consistent, General. Which is precisely why I need you for this next task. In fact, it’s safe to say that it is the reason why I brought you into our little cabal.” He gestured to a chair in front of the desk. “Please, take a seat while I brief you on your latest target.” The General did as asked, crossing his legs demurely and waiting with restrained impatience. He always felt as if he needed a bath after dealing with this man. A screen rose from the edge of the desk, oriented towards him and began following his sight line.

  “We’ve identified a particular metahuman that we believe is of vital importance to the war effort. At first it was thought that there were a group of metahumans with similar powers operating in concert during the Invasion, thwarting some of the Krieger forces. Since that time we’ve revised that hypothesis in favor of one singularly powerful metahuman. In addition to the obvious abilities demonstrated in these videos,” he paused momentarily as scenes of a single fiery entity in different locales was shown decimating entire groups of Thulians single-handedly, with swords and spears of fire along with its bare hands, “we also have a strong reason to suspect that this metahuman is precognitive, in a way that is unmatched by those metahumans so far known to have that sort of power.” He spread his hands wide. “It’s obvious how that last bit there could be of tremendous use to us; anticipating the Kriegers with one hundred percent accuracy, knowing where and when to strike at them . . . it could help finish the war in a week. Overnight, even.”

  The General’s interest was honestly piqued, now. To know the outcomes of battles before they happened, to see the moves and countermoves of an enemy perfectly . . . it was every battle commander’s dream. He turned his eyes to look into Verdigris’. “If this being is able to see the future, will it not be able to see me coming and destroy me?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to have some sort of ‘celestial’ abilities yourself?” he countered, and sat back with folded arms. “This would be the time for you to prove that.” The General knew that he didn’t believe in magic; he always saw it as “science through unknown means,” whatever that meant. The General knew better. There were eldritch forces that moved the world, for good or for ill, with a power that few understood. The General’s being and blade were proof of that.

  “I will find this being, and bring it into my service.”

  “Surely you mean our service, my dear?” The snake kept the same bemused smile on his face, but his eyes had changed ever so subtly. Shen Xue could almost hear the cogs and wheels working behind those cold green eyes of his.

  “Of course. I misspoke.”

  Verdigris bored into Shen Xue with a stare for half of a heartbeat before he rocked back in his chair, the cold look in his eyes gone once more. “Good. You’ll have all of the resources you need at your disposal for this task. It means that much to all of us, to the war effort, General. Once we have this ‘Seraphym’ in our custody, we can find out what it can really do, and force it to operate in our favor instead of at its own whim.” He retrieved a large manila folder from a drawer in his desk, pushing it towards the General. “Everything else you need to know is in there.”

  The General stood from his seat after grabbing the folder. “Understood.” The Seraphym? Hmm. There had been one appearance of the creature by that name at the door of the CCCP HQ; Shen Xue’s entire being had rung like a bell in the proximity of its presence. Verdigris was a fool. The creature was far more powerful than he guessed.

  But perhaps a wise fool. No matter how powerful this creature was, no matter what magic formed the foundation of its powers, Shen Xue carried Jade Emperor’s Whisper, the sword formed for the Jade Emperor Himself, and even the most powerful magician in the world trembled before the might of the Supreme Ruler of Heaven’s power.

  Perhaps it is time to channel some of that power to a purpose. Shen Xue paused in an empty corridor and “pulled” Jade Emperor’s Whisper from the place in reality where it rested in the times he had no need of it. He directed his will at it. We must have this creature, the continuation of the world may require it, he told it sternly. You will hide me from it. He felt the sword’s assent. The sword was more than a simple tool to beat things into submission; it was an entity almost on its own, with moods and wishes that needed to be appeased. Satisfied, he put it “back” and continued on his way. Time to find a quiet place to study the information Verdigris had provided; after all, there was the off chance that it might prove to be worth something.

  And more than time to get out of this damned suit and all the hellish feminin
e contraptions that went with it. It was days like these that Shen Xue wished fervently for a return to ancient China. Perhaps we can make what was ancient new again . . . one day.

  * * *

  The moment was too important for the Seraphym to chance interruption. So, no going to her perch among the arches and pillars of her rooftop lookout, nor the top of John Murdock’s building. The best place to sit and sift through the threads of the futures was the old, mostly deserted cemetery. It was a weekday, the caretaker was taking his nap, there were never any visitors during the week, and this was a spot where there were no living left to visit the dead. In fact, if she chose—and she did—she could create the illusion that she was just one more angel statue among the many, one kneeling with downcast eyes and folded hands. It was one of the least involved illusions she could invoke in the minds of those around her. She simply willed it, and it was so.

  As she concentrated, the threads of the future played out in front of her, flooding her mind with possibility.

  The Djinni had accepted responsibility. He had sacrificed his own self-interest for the sake of the greater good. He had accepted that his future would be subject to pain, loneliness . . . but that this would all mean something profoundly important to the outcome of the war. This had taken him out of the realm of those who did not matter against the Thulians, and put him in the ranks of those who did. He was a new, brighter thread added to the tapestry, and he must be sorted into it.

  Bella had found her rock in the form of the aptly named Bulwark. She would cease to need Sera and could continue her growth on her own. Bulwark would keep her steady, and become part of her moral and ethical compass. That must be sorted. And if she had to make a terrible and morally ambiguous decision, she had someone to steer her back from it. That greatly changed the patterns.

  And . . . John Murdock. That . . . situation . . . both excited her and made her uneasy. It grew more personal with every encounter. And she was supposed, or so she thought, to remain impersonal. But the Infinite had registered no disapproval of this. In fact, the Infinite appeared to register tacit approval. And certainly, as the bond between them grew more familiar, Murdock pulled back from his former distance from the rest of humanity and joined more fully into life around him, became more committed, made more connections. Each time he did, it changed the futures, ever so slightly, for the better.

  And yet . . . this was so dangerous. It opened her in ways she didn’t understand, to emotions . . . the Siblings did not experience emotion directly, only indirectly, through the memories and experiences of mortals. This was new, and a new thing such as this, after her long, long life . . . was unprecedented.

  But she shook her head to clear it of the thought of John Murdock. This was not the time for such thoughts, for there was another subject of more urgency than that. Ramona Ferrari was on a collision course with Verdigris, and there were many ways that this could end. This, at the moment, was one of the sections of the futures that most concerned the Seraphym, for the threads here were terribly, terribly tangled. The Seraphym bent her mind to them, concentrating on these things to the exclusion of all else. Even looking at them changed them, or had the potential to change them. This was a critical juncture.

  Her concentration was interrupted by a lithe figure dressed in red and black silk sliding over the outer wall of the cemetery, silent and graceful as a cat. The figure regarded her coolly, her face serene and her eyes calculating. Sera recognized the figure, of course. The shell was Red Saviour’s oldest friend, Fei Li, otherwise known as People’s Blade. But there were two inside the shell. Fei Li herself was sleeping, encysted, refusing to come out into a world that had turned so unrecognizable, and kept enclosed by the dominant entity—the one now in total control of the shell. That was the great General Shen Xue, a most ancient soul, who had, until the reversal, resided in the equally ancient sword Jade Emperor’s Whisper, to which his immortal soul had been confined for crimes of monumental cruelty and hubris. He had, until Fei Li’s moment of crisis, been content to expiate those crimes by serving as Fei Li’s mentor in all things martial.

  Not anymore, it seemed. Fei Li’s fall had become Shen Xue’s window into the modern world, with a new body.

  “You are not as hard to find as I would have thought, sorceress.” Shen Xue spoke quietly, but never took her eyes off of Sera.

  “Seek, and ye shall find,” the Seraphym replied dryly, speaking in perfectly accented, and quite ancient, Qin. But it was strange that until this moment, she had not been aware of the General’s presence . . .

  Hmm. Now this was odd. Shen Xue was “absent” from the futures—like John Murdock, he was a blankness, but it was not the same sort of blankness. This was not caused by the Infinite. John Murdock was a blank, but his life intersected with virtually all of those who were important to the futures—Bella, Victrix, Red Saviour, even the Djinni, Bulwark, Ramona, and those with whom he had no obvious direct connection. Even Verdigris. Shen Xue intersected only with those who were important, but . . . dangerous. Unethical. Even sociopathic.

  What could that mean?

  Shen Xue paused mid-stride for a moment before she continued, weaving through the gravestones and circling Sera. “You have something I need,” she continued in slightly accented English. “Something that the world needs. Will you give this thing to me? Or will I have to take it?” She stopped in front of Sera, her hands folded behind her back. Shen Xue cocked her head to the side, waiting for a response.

  “It depends entirely on what you believe that I ‘have,’” the Seraphym replied. “Considering that I own no possessions.”

  Shen Xue moved her left hand in front of her face, waggling a finger back and forth. “No. We own many things, beyond the material. Our minds, our thoughts, and our . . . abilities. No one can lay claim to a swordmaker’s skill, though they can bend it to their will. No one can own an athlete’s prowess, but they can persuade him to compete for the glory of a nation.” She leaned forward slightly, canting her head towards Sera. “No one can own the future . . . but you.”

  “I do not own the future. That is in the hands of mortals.” The Seraphym shook her head. “You labor beneath a misapprehension. It is not permitted that I direct the futures as a general directs his armies.”

  “I do not need you to steer the course of history, sorceress. I can do that perfectly well, for I am a general. I simply need you to tell me where and when to best swing my sword to defeat the Thulians and . . . other threats.” Shen Xue regarded a gravestone in front of her, running a finger softly over it before looking back to Sera.

  The Seraphym smiled sadly. “You do not require me for that. Find the source of the Thulians’ power, and remove it.”

  “You mistake me. I am not asking for your permission. A good general marshals all of his assets and strengths before battle. You will come into my service. This is the nature of things.”

  So that was the way the wind blew. “It is not permitted,” the Seraphym said steadily. “I already serve another.”

  Shen Xue sighed heavily, looking down at the grave dirt beneath her feet. “We all serve many masters, sorceress. Of our choosing, and others through necessity.”

  “Not I,” the Seraphym replied. “I serve only the Infinite. You are not the first to want me as a servant. You must go on wanting.”

  Shen Xue looked up sharply from the ground. “So.” Without another word, she charged Sera, sprinting as fast as a top Olympic athlete. The General, seemingly from nowhere, pulled Jade Emperor’s Whisper from behind her back, leveling it at Sera.

  But the Seraphym, old in battle, was not taken by surprise. Her own fiery blade sprang to life in her hand as her fires blazed up around her. She moved as lithe as flame, stepping lightly aside and parrying Jade Emperor’s Whisper in a way that left the General unbalanced for a moment. The General quickly spun around, bringing her sword up in a one-handed grip, circling with Sera.

  “The wise man does not shout defiance into the tempest,” said
the Seraphym, “but accepts the inevitable with grace.” She followed the General’s movements without seeming to. Shen Xue now discovered that facing a creature who had no pupils to her eyes was disconcerting. It was not possible to read such blankness; an opponent’s eyes were usually telling of many things. Not so with this one. Shen Xue continued with her flurry, launching attacks high and low, each of which was countered with what seemed thoughtless grace. “Does the butterfly spar with the dragon? Does the wren seek to drive the eagle from her nest to claim it? What is it that you can possibly expect to get from me?”

  Shen Xue lunged with her sword, aiming for Sera’s throat. “One must persevere to accomplish impossible tasks.” She followed with another barrage of strikes, ducking and weaving and even leaping off of gravestones in almost impossible but perfect acrobatic moves, only to be perfectly countered each time.

  “Why not put the same effort into pursuing the Thulians?” the Seraphym asked. “Others are doing the same. You could accomplish far more. As I told you: find the head of this serpent and strike it off.”

  “Half measures,” Shen Xue grunted as she readied her sword again, “will never win wars. Others are not willing to do what needs to be done. Few are. With you at my side, I will be able to do what is necessary to defeat the Thulians, and all other threats.” She renewed her assault, with cuts coming from as many angles as she could manage, faster than probably any mortal swordsman alive.

  And for the first time in her unnumbered millennia, Seraphym’s sword of flame had not instantly destroyed a mortal weapon. She Looked at the sword that Shen Xue wielded, and instantly knew why. Because it was not a mortal weapon. Improbably enough, Jade Emperor’s Whisper was not forged by mortal hands, but by the hands of those who were, if not Siblings, certainly not subject to the same limitations as mortals.

  “And how would you know I was telling you the truth and not something designed to send you to your death?” she replied, serenely, although . . . beneath, she was anything but serene. She was afraid. Something was going on, far from here. She sensed that in this same moment as her battle with the General, John Murdock faced an equal enemy for, perhaps, the first time in his life. He was hurt. He was in danger. She had not foreseen this, and she could not be there and here. Yet she could not leave here to come to his aid while the situation with Shen Xue was so uncertain.