“Your faith in humanity is touching, sister,” said Ambellina impatiently, “but they are simply not capable of dealing with someone on Ryan’s level. They’ve proven that.”
“They’ve proven nothing because they haven’t truly been given the opportunity to battle Ryan on anything approaching his level.”
“You don’t think that God is urging us to attend to Ryan ourselves?”
She looked once more at the Black Rainbow and, as much to her own surprise as Ambellina’s, she smiled. “No. I think we are being urged to show humanity the light. And that, sister, is precisely what we are going to do. And in my observation of humanity, I believe I have found exactly the one to show it to.”
Chapter 7
Give Us the Monster
Mayo Deftinwolf was not scared. Mayo Deftinwolf was never scared. The most extreme reaction he ever had was to be disconcerted.
He was, at this point, mildly disconcerted. On the other hand, he was in a situation where other men would likely have wet themselves, so his reaction was reflective of his enormous level of self-possession.
Aside from Ryan himself, none was allowed in the High Tower save for Deftinwolf. He took advantage of that privilege now, striding up the stairs with full confidence.
Never for a moment did he consider the possibility that Wilhelm Ryan would not know what to do or how to react. Many lifetimes of service on Ryan’s behalf had left him secure in the knowledge that there was nothing Ryan and he could not handle.
What was mildly disconcerting, though, was this:
The Mage Wars had turned out, beat for beat, exactly as Ryan had told Deftinwolf they would. Ryan had analyzed every aspect of the other Mages’ behavior. He had anticipated every single move that the Mages would embark upon. There was no time at any point in the wars that the Mages did anything that Ryan had not allowed for and prepared for. As devoted as he was to Ryan, even Deftinwolf was flat-out amazed at the sheer accuracy of Ryan’s predictions.
It wasn’t as if Ryan had any sort of psychic ability. Instead, Ryan had told him, all clues came from history. “One does not need to be able to know the future; one only needs to be conversant with the past in order to guide the present, and the future will attend to itself,” Ryan had said.
The problem with the Mages being as long-lived as they were was that they had fallen into consistent patterns of behavior. Those patterns had made them easy pickings for Ryan’s uncanny ability to extrapolate their next move in every situation by looking at what they had done in the past. Thus had he been able to dispose of them handily in the course of the wars.
He was further confident that his scrutinizing of history would serve him in good stead insofar as his aspirations to greatness. He knew full well the unfortunate fate that had befallen the first Supreme Tri-Mage. Ryan was sure, however, that he would not share that fate, because “I learn from history, and will therefore know what mistakes to avoid.”
So Deftinwolf was fully accustomed to everything that they encountered being anticipated by Ryan. Ryan would then confer with Deftinwolf, who would suggest the most efficient ways in which the matter could be addressed. Ryan would nod in satisfaction, talk yet again of how vital Deftinwolf was to the great causes that were being pursued, and send the General off with his blessing.
Which was why Deftinwolf was mildly disconcerted. He was quite certain that nowhere, in all of his discussions with Ryan at any point, had there been a mention made of a Black Rainbow appearing out of nowhere, with apparently not the slightest intention of disappearing anytime soon.
It seemed to hang there in the sky, taunting and defiant. Deftinwolf saw it as a symbol of the limits of his and Ryan’s power, of just how far they could go and no further in their endeavors, because what the hell was Deftinwolf supposed to do about a black damned rainbow? Shoot it? Blow it up? Conquer it?
He reached the highest point of the High Tower and yet hesitated before entering. He was uncertain of the protocol, for this was still a relatively new environment. He raised his fist to knock—not tentatively, because he did nothing tentatively. Before he could do so, Ryan’s voice called from within: “You may enter.”
Deftinwolf did so.
He stopped, looked around. He had never been in this chamber before and he hadn’t been quite certain what he would see. He certainly had not been expecting to see this:
Himself.
That wasn’t the first thing that struck him about the room. The first thing to hit him was the cold. That was reflective of the rest of House Atlantic; Wilhelm Ryan liked to keep it cold. The moment Deftinwolf had entered the place he had felt chilled nearly to the bone. As he walked through the vast hallways of House Atlantic, past cavernous, high-ceiling rooms that could seat a thousand people with room to spare, he had noticed many of the servants were wrapped in heavy clothing to compensate. Glittering chandeliers hung overhead, and he could have sworn that they had frost on them. He had figured that the higher up he went, the warmer it would become since heat tended to rise.
He was wrong. The room at the top of the high tower was so chilled that he had to flex his hand a few times to keep from losing feeling in his fingers. He opened his mouth and mist floated from it.
It was one of the smaller rooms he had seen in his walk around House Atlantic. Then again, since Ryan was intended to be the sole occupant, how large did it need to be?
The floor was simple, unadorned black and white tile, and the domed ceiling was clear, providing an unobstructed view of the skies.
Furthermore, the room was entirely lined with gleaming metal shined to such a high polish that there were at least half a dozen images of him surrounding them. There were naturally multiple images of Ryan as well. He was standing in the middle of the room, his arms folded, invisible beneath his cloak. His silvery skin, typically out of place in broad daylight, looked remarkably well suited to the icy quarters. Ryan had clearly made it his natural habitat.
Deftinwolf paused to gather himself and then stepped forward, all business. “Sir,” he said, “there is a situation about which—“
“The Black Rainbow.”
Deftinwolf was relieved. It was good to know that Ryan was ahead of him on the subject. It made the situation more palatable. He bowed slightly. “Yes, sir. The Black Rainbow.” He paused and then said, with just the slightest touch of hope, “Is it…your doing?”
“No,” said Ryan slowly. “No, it is not.”
“I see. A trick of the Mages, perhaps?”
“The Mages are either dead or incubating. How would you propose that one of them might be behind it?”
“Obviously, they could not be.” Inwardly, Deftinwolf smiled. This was typical of the give-and-take between the General and the Supreme Tri-Mage. They both knew that each of them had considered all the aspects of the situation; they were now simply, through their back-and-forth, peeling away all the layers so that the conclusions they had already come to would be laid bare. “It would have to be the Prise, then, would it not? Only they would be capable of placing such an image in the sky.”
“For what purpose?”
“To sow discord, sir; to cause confusion and unrest. To make the people believe that it is somehow some manner of…of sign from on high that God disapproves of what has transpired.”
“Or that he approves.”
“The faithful are putting forward that argument as well. There are some who…”
“Or…that he is issuing me a challenge.”
“Yes, I suppose…” Deftinwolf’s voice trailed off as he suddenly began to comprehend what Ryan was implying. “Sir…are you suggesting that—?”
“That it truly is a symbol from God? That the Maker, the Almighty, the beginning and the end of all that is and ever was and ever will be, has placed a sign across the firmament that is intended to say to me, ‘Very well, Ryan. You have triumphed over all who opposed you. There is only one challenge left to you that is worthy, and I am it. Come against me, little man, for I shall dest
roy you as casually as one would crush a nettlesome insect’?” He smiled, and that was a terrible thing to see. “No, my dear General. I’m not “suggesting” that. I firmly believe it. What you are seeing in the sky is nothing less than God Himself acknowledging that I have caught his attention.”
Deftinwolf processed that information. His initial concerns had been well-founded; Ryan had definitely never mentioned anything about catching God’s notice, much less having the Almighty throw down the gauntlet. The General wasn’t daunted by the prospect of squaring off against the Creator. He was willing to follow Ryan into the gates of Hell, much less into the maw of Heaven. Still…
“With all respect, sir, may I ask: Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?”
“It is merely another challenge, General.”
“If it is a challenge to you, sir, then it is one I intend to join you in fighting and winning.”
“And the prospect of battling the Almighty is not one that you find daunting?”
“I think of it more as that the Almighty is battling us. He puts on a good show,” and Deftinwolf nodded in the general direction of the Black Rainbow. “But if He had it within his ability to dispose of you, then he surely could have, and would have, done so by now. It has generally been my philosophy that warnings are for the weak. The strong do not issue warnings. The strong strike quickly, efficiently, and with no mercy. The fact that God—if such there be—is holding back from doing so, speaks volumes to me.”
“As it does to me. I am pleased we are on the same side in this regard, General.”
“Always, sir. May I ask how, precisely, you intend to rise to this challenge? Tell me against whom to fight, and I’ll do so. Where shall I send my troops?”
“Nowhere.”
“Nowhere…?”
“This is precisely what our opponent desires you to do, General,” said Ryan patiently. “He seeks to distract us from our current plans. Send us running about, trying to come up with some manner of direct opposition. Except you said it yourself: Were He of a mind or, more importantly, of the ability, to hinder us, then He would do more than put on a celestial light show. He would strike me down with a bolt of lightning from on high.” He spread wide his arms, threw back his head and called out in a challenging voice, “Do it! Do more than try to instill fear with your Black Rainbow! All-seeing, all-knowing. Know this: If you wish to stop me, then do it now! A blast of energy that even I could not withstand! Or abolish me in a burst of spontaneous combustion! I, Wilhelm Ryan, Supreme Tri-Mage, cordially invite you to take your best shot!”
He waited.
Nothing happened.
He smiled. As he did so, a stream of gel-like pus oozed from an earthworm-like vein below his left jawbone. Mayo had become accustomed to such things and took no notice of it.
“For the time being,” he said calmly, “we shall carry on as we were, General. And if your men seem the least bit daunted over the notion that we have somehow earned the wrath of God, tell them…”
“Yes, sir?”
“Tell them that His wrath is distant and irrelevant, and mine is right here and will have a very immediate impact.”
Deftinwolf bowed deeply. “Very good, sir.” He pivoted on his heel and walked out, leaving Wilhelm Ryan looking heavenward. Slender windows lined the upper dome and the Black Rainbow was visible through them.
“Very good indeed,” said Ryan with a contented purr.
* * *
Leonard Hohenberger was terrified. These days, Leonard Hohenberger felt as if he was always terrified. Once his constant companions had been his wife and his son. Now it was fear. Lousy stinking fear that filled every atom of his being.
Furthermore, he was tired of feeling this way. It was exhausting, being constantly suffused with fear. He would never have guessed that constant fear could take so much out of you, but apparently that was the case.
These days, Pearl and Leonard might well have been living in two different houses. She had once again retreated into herself, although only part way. She no longer sat about, one step above catatonia.
Instead she focused on three things. First, upon her beloved insects in general and the syringa in particular. She would stand in the green house for hours on end, with her hand extended, as the delicate, green-winged creature fluttered about. Some days she neglected to bother with the gloves she once regarded as imperative, needing to feel a direct connection with the one thing still in her control. The syringa would land on her finger and simply sit there, stretching its wings, like gossamer drawing taut and loosening again. She would watch it from beneath her protective mask, and on the occasions that Leonard would look in on her, he saw her standing so motionlessly that the insects might have mistaken her for a tree.
Second, she would sit in front of the vidscreen and intently watch the news,, which was carefully controlled by the government, endeavoring to shield the citizenry from anything that could be considered upsetting. The intent was to put forward as positive an image of the world and Ryan’s control of it as possible. These days, though, that goal had become increasingly problematic. It was impossible to put a happy, sunny face on the insanity that had occurred in Apity Central, the capital city of Apity Prime. Not that the news reports didn’t try. They spoke of the jubilation over the ascension by Wilhelm Ryan.
Jubilation? Hohenberger thought. How can they call it that? Hundreds of people injured. Drunken insanity and violence. Behavior so appalling, that it’s almost as if we’ve abrogated the right to call ourselves human beings anymore. Thank God we were nowhere near it. Thank God we live far away from the madding crowds. Leonard Hohenberger had never been as glad as he was now that their home and laboratory occupied a sizable spread off in a fairly remote area, surrounded by forest, low mountains, and nothing resembling the hand of Man. The highest structures in the vicinity were towering trees, providing shelter and shade. He remembered the days when Joseph would scramble fearlessly upon the branches and Pearl would have to cry out to him not to climb too high for fear that he might…
You should never have let him head off into the city. He was fine as long as his activities were limited to video chats with his pals. You should have kept him here where he was safe.
The words kept banging around in his skull, and by this point he honestly could not tell whether they were Pearl’s sentiments or his own.
The news reporters talked endlessly of how Ryan said he wanted to work closely with the government to bring a new spirit of cooperation and order to Heaven’s Fence. Hohenberger was completely certain that Ryan had never said anything of the kind. He didn’t give a damn about the government, or the concerns of the people. He cared about himself and about his desire for power, and that was the extent of his concerns.
The news also made passing reference to an unusual astronomical phenomenon that had “intrigued” scientists and theologians alike. They called it the Black Rainbow (Hohenberger watched in bleak amusement as the on-screen spelling went from being lower cased to capitalized in the course of a news cycle) and were fully confident that it would be gone within a few hours.
Pearl was certain it would not be.
That was the third thing that occupied her.
The Black Rainbow.
She would sit outside and stare at it whenever she wasn’t with her insects, watching vid, or sleeping. Those were her three occupations these days.
Pearl didn’t sit in a chair. She would simply curl her long legs under herself and sit on the ground gazing skyward. During the day she would watch it shimmering; during the night she would look up at the swath of stars that were no long visible due to the huge black, curving arc.
“It’s Ryan’s doing,” she said the first time she gazed upon the Black Rainbow.
“Are you sure?” He was relieved that she seemed willing to engage in a discussion that was of a scientific or even philosophic bent. “There are some who say—”
“I know what some are saying,” she said sharply. “Wild pronounce
ments that God threw that up there as a sign of an oncoming apocalypse. Not to be confused with those people who assert that God put it there to voice his approval of Ryan’s triumph. You can’t truly buy into any of that bullshit, can you, Leonard?”
“Bullshit…?” The last time Hohenberger had heard Pearl swear, it was while Joseph was being born, and it was certainly understandable at the time. Now it seemed uncharacteristic.
“You don’t actually believe there’s a God after everything we’ve been through, do you? I mean, you’re not one of those deluded fools who tries to put a coat of gloss over every tragedy that befalls him by cheerfully declaring it’s all part of God’s plan. One of those types that refuses to believe the world is cold and heartless and hopeless, are you?”
The question stunned Hohenberger. He tried to frame a response but it didn’t come readily to him.
As far as Pearl was concerned, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t waiting around for him to reply. She was talking as much to herself as she was to him. “We’re scientists. Scientists should know better than to think that there’s some invisible sky magician looking down upon us like some benevolent mother or father figure. Or…even more likely…a vast, unseen bully who visits disaster upon us whenever He’s bored. Who could possibly contemplate worshipping such a vindictive, spiteful creature?”
“Pearl,” he finally found his voice, “look at the world in which we exist! Look at Heaven’s Fence! The manner in which it’s constructed, the Keywork, all of it! You cannot seriously believe that all these worlds…I mean, for God’s sake—pardon the expression—it’s a perfect triangle! You cannot think that it just…just happened to develop this way! That there wasn’t some designing mind behind it!”
“So what if it’s a perfect triangle? Planets are perfect spheres. Human beings are symmetrical, for the most part. Designs evolve from nature in order to achieve full functionality and maximum potential. That doesn’t automatically equate with the notion that there is an architect above it all rendering that design on some cosmic blueprint and then physically producing it, just to watch it all go to hell.”
Year of the Black Rainbow Page 10