Page 37

Chapter 37

Bleak Prospects

She sat upon a throne that hadn’t been there seconds before. You’d think you might hear the sound of a damn great throne of silver and bronze with a polished oak and red velvet canopy and pale purple upholstery coming into existence, but this miraculous piece of unnatural spellcraft arrived as quietly as the whisper of a shadow.

Me? All I was good for was triggering unbridled havoc and conjuring vampire kangaroos. I was really going to have to up my magic game at some point.

‘In sixty years, this fortress gets overrun by the army of a would-be prince,’ said the Spellslinger, leaning against the plumply cushioned back of her throne. ‘The prince has a skin condition that causes blisters when he’s exposed to too much sunlight, so he puts his throne room down here in the cellar.’

‘Has his destiny become inevitable?’ I asked, feeling suddenly even shabbier than before. ‘Or is there still time for someone to teach him that dark red velvet and pale purple are a criminal combination?’

She laughed, though more out of politeness. It occurred to me that perhaps her own people, the ‘Jan’Tep’, might have more formal notions of polite behaviour than were common in this realm. She stepped down from the throne, allowing its destiny to return to mere potentiality. It was oddly beautiful, watching the woods, metals and fabrics coming apart and drifting away, first fragments of their elemental compositions, then tiny sparks and finally nothing.

‘About fifteen minutes ago, the guards went to inform the Pandoral that I’m going to submit my attunement to his control and let him turn me into a gate into their realm,’ I informed her, then gestured to the ceiling. ‘So you’d better reach into some other part of this dungeon’s destiny where it becomes easier to escape before they get back.’

She shook her head. The tumble of dark curls caressed her cheeks and I found myself wanting to do that myself. I was still entranced by that kiss. ‘I’ll admit, it was a clever piece of work, convincing yourself to do the Pandoral’s bidding.’ She stepped closer. ‘How did you know I’d sense the change in your doom?’

I consider myself more disciplined than most when it comes to the allure of physical attraction. As a wonderist-for-hire selling my spells and services to warlords and Ascendant Princes all over the continent, offers of sexual gratification were as common as stale beer. I’m not entirely sure why I always refused– possibly because I could never be confident those offering to spend the night with me had consented of their own free will. Corrigan figures my time in the Justiciars left me with a stick up my arse. Maybe both are true. However, stuck in that dark, dank cell stinking of every kind of filth, all I could smell was the scent of her hair and the faint sheen of sweat on her neck, and all I could see was the strange mixture of mischief and misery in her eyes.

‘I was a Justiciar,’ I reminded her. ‘I studied under Hazidan Rosh, perhaps the most brilliant investigator of wonderism there ever was. She taught me to think not only in terms of extra-planar rules of magic, but about how those rules became part of the human beings wielding them. Every time we’ve met, it’s when I’ve been on the verge of making a decision that would significantly alter my course– my doom, you called it.’

Was that admiration I saw in her gaze, or merely a new obstacle in the path of her own mission?

‘You knew that my own doom had become entwined with yours, so by deciding to submit to the Pandoral’s designs, you triggered my mystical sensitivities to the alteration in my own destiny.’

‘And the future of your child,’ I reminded her.

I’d tried to say those words softly, calmly, almost submissively. Judging by the sharp sting on my cheek, I hadn’t been entirely successful.

‘You’ve done a lot of stupid things in your life, Cade Ombra. I’d wager none of them are as suicidal as playing games with my son’s life.’

‘I play with whatever pieces are put in front of me, Eliva’ren. You set the board as much as anyone else, so don’t expect me to play by a different set of rules than everyone else. Let me guess: Tenebris figured out a way to weaken the Pandoral at the precise instant when the gate to his realm opens, thereby stealing whatever esoteric energies remain there. No doubt he’s worked out a way to get your son out and the two of you returned to your own plane of existence before the Pandoral realm collapses completely. Meanwhile, the diabolic and whoever he’s working with has you cleaning up any messes along the way, right?’

Crossing her arms in front of her, she looked away. It was the first time I’d seen any sign of guilt or shame. ‘Thanks to your fellow Glorians, my son was born into the Pandoral realm. For nine years I’ve been able to communicate with him only sporadically, when some tiny twist of fate worked out in our favour. The Pandorals would have killed him instantly, had they not determined that the unique manner of his birth had entwined his existence with that of their realm. So, instead, they created a. . . a kind of facsimile of me within their realm. My son’s been nursed and raised by a shadow of me that isn’t even real.’

‘But the fractures continued and now the Pandoral realm is on the verge of collapse,’ I said.

She was still not meeting my gaze. ‘When I was giving birth to Hamun, the attunement the Glorians were trying to force upon me caught him instead. Somehow my body momentarily became a gate into the Pandoral realm, my baby was taken from me and I was left trapped here, in this horrible cesspool you arrogantly refer to as the “Mortal realm” as if this was the only one. I was sixteen years old, suddenly more powerful than any mage my own world had ever produced, and completely unable to save my own baby.’

It was a heartbreaking story, but it was also a gambit. ‘You can’t manipulate or cajole me into changing my decision,’ I told her, again trying to take the sting out of my words and again failing. ‘If they come back and I’m still here, I’m going to do exactly what they want. Normally, I’d assume that would give you the chance to rescue your son, but since you’re trying so very hard to weaken my resolve, I’m guessing it doesn’t work that way.’

Now she was the one who looked like she’d been slapped. ‘The gate spell is like all Pandoral magic: it’s a warping of reality itself. It’s raw chaos unleashed in a controlled fashion, reshaping the laws of physics themselves. Actually, it’s more than that, because the gate becomes a layer of translation between two different sets of physical laws, which will allow beings to pass through– in one direction only. The Pandoral wants to go home, bringing as much power from this realm with him as he can. That means if he’s the one controlling the gate, my son can’t come here.’

‘Then I guess you’d better get me out of here, Eliva’ren.’

She shook her head again. ‘I’m sorry, Cade, but my employers don’t want you escaping this cell. They want your body and will broken utterly, and sooner or later, the Pandoral’s impatience and desperation will lead it to torment your spirit all the way down to the ecclesiasm of your soul. That’s when we’ll take you: that’s when you’ll become what we need you to be.’ She held up an arm: one of the bands of metallic sigils tattooed on her skin was gleaming with purplish light. ‘Among my people, this is the band for silk magic. It’s not entirely unlike the Infernal spells you once used to manipulate other people’s minds. I can make you think or feel whatever I desire.’

‘So, no escape plan, then?’

At last she met my gaze. Any guilt or hesitation I’d seen before was gone. ‘I’m not here to free you, Cade. I need only break your determination to submit to the Pandoral. Then I’m going to leave you to be tortured for weeks on end until at last you’ll be ready for us.’

I considered that a moment, then said, ‘You know, for a minute there I was really starting to fall for you.’

She smiled. There was nothing now but sorrow in it. ‘Don’t worry, Cade. In a few moments, you’ll be entirely in love with me.’

I sat down cross-legged on the floor and gestured for her to do likewise. ‘Well then, Eliva’ren, let’s get down to business and see which of us is the bigger arsehole.’