by Cory Herndon
“Yes?” the Grand Arbiter said expectantly.
“Your honor, it is clear to me, as it should be clear to all in this—” he coughed, “in this august body. You are right. The Guildpact is crumbling, and I for one say the time for action is now.”
“Go on,” Augustin IV said. Ralinu had a feeling he knew right where Borbin was going. He wasn’t sure he agreed, but they had to do something. They were the Senate.
“Your honor,” Borbin said, “we must declare the Guildpact a failure and establish martial law, without Boros or wojek assistance. They are a failed institution without a living guildmaster. But we, I can only hope, can fill that void. I move that you, honored judge and wisest of the Azorius, immediately assume the full responsibilities of judicial dictator for the indefinite future. I further move that we immediately issue a compulsory draft of the population, as well as a compulsory draft of the ghosts of Agyrem, to form an army of Azorius that shall be the enforcers of the law. And finally, I move that we make this vote without delay.”
The Grand Arbiter nodded thoughtfully.
“That,” he said, “is a bold step. Many bold steps. Enthusiasm noted, Senator. Will anyone second the first part of this motion?”
“I second the first part,” said Illindivossk.
“I will second part two of my honored colleague’s motion,” piped Yindervac.
“Point of order, your honor,” called a voice from overhead. Ralinu looked over and saw an angel and a ragtag group of people standing in doorway. The unwelcome speaker was a fat man in the tattered blue robes of an Azorius lawmage. “And I do indeed raise an objection.”
One of the Azorius ministers stood to reply to Kos’s challenge, but the man never got a chance to speak. The Grand Arbiter replied first.
“Lieutenant,” Augustin IV said, “or do you prefer simply ‘wojek’? I would call you ‘avatar,’ but you have proven quite a disappointment in that particular line.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kos said. “I think I’m a real quick study.”
“Curious choice of words,” the Grand Arbiter said, “since all of you have been such poor students. So disappointing. So very disappointing. What makes you think I will let you object to anything that happens in these chambers?” The edge of the blind man’s mouth turned up in a cold smile Kos could see even from his vantage point. “I put you in that body. I created you in your current state.”
“I think if you could have destroyed me, you would have done it a few seconds ago,” Kos said, “before I opened Murzeddi’s fat mouth.” He hauled his new bulk forward.
Obez had stopped shouting in his head a while ago, and Kos thought that maybe his anchor had given up. But as Kos’s borrowed feet took him closer to the Grand Arbiter, the lawmage’s mental voice reappeared. You are going to kill both of us, Obez objected.
You were going to kill both of us, Kos replied in kind, but he did stop moving forward.
We were supposed to pursue the cytoplast connection, Obez said. You should have reported it and resumed the search for Szadek. There is no reason for us to die. For me to die.
You’re a coward, aren’t you? Kos asked.
And you’re a killer. You killed a guildmaster.
A crazy guildmaster. It’s apparently my calling. And I’m not quite done yet.
Murderer, Obez replied, and Kos decided to give the lawmage the last word. Arguing in his head was exhausting.
The others followed as the Grand Arbiter watched with a look of growing amusement Kos couldn’t quite understand. Finally, Feather landed beside him and removed her golden helm. She placed it before the Azorius guildmaster then took a position at his left hand.
That was when the hairs on the back of his neck—Obez’s neck—started to stand on end. He got a good look at Feather, close up, at last, and he was shocked to see that although the similarity was uncanny—angels were all almost identical, magical duplicates of Razia herself, according to the tales—there were a few tiny differences. The way she stood. The shape of an eyebrow. The indescribable kindness Feather’s face displayed, now totally absent. Kos had seen Feather almost every day for decades, and this was not her. It was another angel entirely.
But there were no other angels. Kos had seen the evidence clearly, if not with his own eyes then close enough for it not to make any difference. Kos’s jaw dropped.
“Fonn,” he said, “Pivlic, get the others and get out of here.”
“What are you talking about?” Fonn said, drawing her sword. “We just arrived.”
Kos whirled. “Do it!”
Even as he turned, Kos saw it was too late. The angel was breaking down into its writhing component parts. Millions of tiny blue-white worms swirled in a mass that was angel-shaped but was certainly no angel. The lurker—Krokt almighty, Kos had hoped to never hear, let alone think, that word again—gave up the angelic shape entirely, and its writhing collective body spread into a wall of worms that neatly cut them off from the only ground exit.
“No, you won’t be going anywhere,” Augustin IV said.
“But what about Szadek?” Kos demanded. “You said he—that I—broke the Guildpact.”
“Why do you ask what is obvious, Lieutenant?” the judge said. “He—or rather, his immortal ghost—has been in my service since you so helpfully placed him there. With such a performance record, you were certain to eliminate Vig, which also serves my purposes. Szadek’s body has been a pile of dust for over a decade, thanks to you it was child’s play to finish him off in the dungeons. His ghost has been my slave ever since. A powerful creature to be sure but still my creature. Even as he led the ghostly armies against the angels, his absence here allowed the Guildpact to finish crumbling. Now there is no choice. Ravnica will follow a new law. Perfect law. The motion has been seconded, you know.”
“But why drag me all the way here and feed me that line of—”
“Oh, it was no line,” the Grand Arbiter said. “I spoke the truth. You could have destroyed Szadek. Other than myself, you might be the only one on Ravnica who could destroy Szadek. But your purpose—ah, that was something different, all part of the terrifying dissension that has wracked our world since you arrested Szadek and broke the Guildpact,” Augustin said in mock horror. “When you handed Szadek to me on a platter and allowed me to enslave my ancient enemy with ease.”
“But this will never work,” Kos said. “The senators are sitting right there. They’re hearing this entire confession.”
“Oh, I assure you they’re hearing something else,” the Grand Arbiter said. “I could not allow your willfulness to destroy my vision. They are hearing how your renegade actions have brought about this destruction. Which is true, of course. But the Guildpact was flawed from the start. It was impure, a mongrel. Order that worked to preserve chaos. I knew this day would come, that one day I would be called upon to impose true order—true peace—for Ravnica. And you have given me everything I need to accomplish my goal.”
“So your new law will be based on lies,” Kos said.
“What laws aren’t?” the Grand Arbiter said. “Have you learned nothing? If so, it cannot be my fault as a teacher. You all should have learned this by now, particularly those of you in the Boros Guild. All laws are arbitrary. It is that they exist and are enforced rigorously that is important. There is no abstract, objective justice. There is no nobility in human nature—or vedalken, elf, viashino, or miscellaneous nature, for that matter. There is only punishment—and fear of punishment—for disobeying the laws we lay out to preserve the peace.” He finally broke into a wide smile. “You have served my purposes well enough, though your talk grows tiresome. I will give you and that pathetic band of yours ten seconds to prepare yourselves for death. Then my ally will begin to devour you. Szadek did not appreciate Lupul’s power, and the dead Devkarin didn’t either, though he could have. I assure you, I do.”
“Dead?” Myc and Fonn said almost simultaneously.
Kos did not have time to comfort his friend or
her son. Son! Kos could hardly believe that. Jarad’s death was easier to grasp than the fact that he and Fonn had a child. He cast a look about the moon-and-glowsphere-lit chamber. A wall of solid, roiling lurker blocked the way out to the pavilion. He doubted he could get to Augustin himself without Lupul catching him, not in this out of shape body.
There was only one exit left, and even as he saw it the entire plan stunk of being led by the nose. Augustin had manipulated Kos all along. Why should the Grand Arbiter stop now?
But the only exit was the only exit. And there might be some kind of weapons in there. The engines might—
“Yes, the Parhelion is open,” the Grand Arbiter prodded. “Perhaps you would like to see your friend the baroness? Or the last angel, the one you saddled with that ridiculous moniker? I’d check the command floor. There is a slim chance they yet live. But be watchful for our ghostly friend the vampire.”
“Come on,” Kos said, though every ounce of experience he’d collected over one hundred twenty-five years told him he was barreling headlong into a trap. Augustin had just told him it was a trap. But if there was a chance Feather, the real Feather, was still in there. …
The others turned and followed without objection. True to his word, Augustin IV gave them exactly ten seconds before he ordered the wall of worms to follow.
I won’t do it, Obez’s inner voice said. I am loyal.
Were you listening? Kos demanded. He doesn’t give a damn what happens to you. You were a convenient tool. We both were. But there might still be time to stop him.
Why? Obez said.
He used us, like I just told you. And I don’t like being used.
So you will attack the only source of law and order this world has left?
I’m tired of debating, Kos thought angrily. He lifted the sword he’d taken from a dead angel and held the tip to Obez’s heart. The lawmage’s flabby body bounced against the blade as Kos ran down the corridor that, if the signage was accurate, led to the huge engine room. What will it be?
You wouldn’t. You would be dead too.
Didn’t take the first time. Why should it now? You, on the other hand—well, just try me.
Kos thought he heard a sound like an airless sigh and, finally, Obez’s voice again.
I will try to find the Orzhov baroness for you, Obez thought. That is the best I can do.
I need Feather, Kos replied.
You need to understand how this works. Angels are pure magic. They look like flesh, blood, and bone—especially these ones on the floor here—but they are magic. They’re not a body with a soul. There’s no place to put you.
Okay, Kos thought. Find me a human then. Now.
Kos’s inner eye went on a different path through the corridors of the Parhelion than the ones he used to jog down the one on the engine-room route. The inner eye, guided by Obez, passed through mizzium walls and grated floors for deck after deck before settling on the wide, flat surface of the command deck, dotted with ruined control stations and littered with wreckage and a shattered ship’s wheel.
Unlike the “journey” through the greenhouse, this time only the shapes of the living occupants of the command floor appeared bright, blurry, and out of focus. The mizzium, metal, and wood were clear, as were even more dead angels. There were three living souls and one dead one. The dead one was a ghost, a tall, thin ghost with a form made of swirling, blue light immersed in a shadow. The outline of the shape was all too familiar. Szadek.
Teysa Karlov was seated on the floor below the remains of a jewel-encrusted console Kos couldn’t have comprehended even when it was intact. She shone bright white in his ethereal vision and had one leg stretched out before her, the other one brought up and under her chin. Feather appeared as a blazing inferno with wings, like a phoenix. She stood at the empty wheel post, both hands behind her in a position that made Kos think she’d been bound with lockrings. The third living thing was not shining but only strong enough to manage a fairly dull, white glow rimmed with a red corona. It was …
Wenslauv? What was she doing here?
Dying, from the look of it, Obez said maliciously.
The fourth occupant was another lurker, a disturbingly pretty mass of glittering blue jewels in the shape of another angel.
All right, take us back, Kos told Obez.
You need to pick one, Obez replied. I’m not a ferry service.
“Kos, what are you doing?” Fonn asked. Kos blinked, lost the hold on Obez’s roving eye, and realized he was about to walk into a wall.
“Are we still being followed?” he asked.
“I don’t hear them,” the ledev said, “hear it.”
“It probably turned into something,” the centaur scout piped in.
“Yeah, I’ll bet it’s still following us, but it looks like a bird or something. It could be flying,” Myc volunteered.
“Stop helping, Scouts,” Fonn said. “From here on consider engagement regs in effect.”
“This way,” Kos said and turned abruptly down the next corridor.
Just wait one second. First we need to get to the engine deck.
And can you find that other lurker?
Silence.
Obez?
No, the lawmage admitted. It might have found a way to join with that other one. Could have gotten ahead of us somehow. Or maybe it’s become something—something inanimate perhaps? That might cause the trouble.
Or you might cause the trouble, Kos replied. You being honest with me?
It’s my body you’re trying to get killed, Obez said. Why the engine deck?
Insurance, Kos said, some weapons lockers. Won’t take us a minute.
You’re lying to someone who is sharing a mind with you, Obez replied. You’re going to the engine room, and—
I am.
I have to admit, Obez said, it has a certain simple charm. I’d also really rather you thought of something else.
It’s the only way to be certain.
The plan settled with his host—for now—Kos led the small group of ledev and friends to a sheltered alcove in the bend of a sharp ninety-degree corner. “Fonn,” he said, nodding to them in turn, “Obez—”
“Obez?” Fonn said.
“The owner of this body,” Kos said. “He can see living things, and I’m picking it up a bit myself. I think the lurker isn’t following us anymore. It’s possible it’s turned into something we can’t see.”
“You and Obez,” Fonn said, “came up with that.”
“Yes,” Kos sighed. “Listen, can you keep the kids safe while we go take care of something?”
“We’re not kids—” the centaur began.
“As you were, Scouts,” Fonn said, and there was no more objection from the scouts for the time being.
“Who is this ‘we’ you speak of, my dear, old, foolishly mistaken friend Kos in a fat-man suit?” Pivlic said. “You did say ‘we,’ did you not?”
“We,” he said to Pivlic, a plan coalescing that might just see his friends survive this even if he didn’t. “You and I. We’re going to check out one of the decks that might hold some weapons.”
“You are a terrible liar in any body, Kos,” Pivlic said.
Kos shot him a look that said “Not in front of the scouts, you idiot,” or at least close enough that Pivlic clammed up and nodded.
“We’ll stay here,” Myc said. “We’ll see you soon. We’ll keep an eye on the—the thoroughfare here. Scouts, form up.” Without so much as a questioning glance, the two older ledev trainees followed him into the small alcove—more of a closet—and sat in an orderly fashion.
Fonn nodded and said, “Why are you still here?”
Kos placed a hand on her shoulder. “Fonn, if that’s true about Jarad, I just want you to know that I thought—”
Fonn’s face looked a lot like it did the day Kos had told her the truth about her father’s death, and it unnerved the wojek ghost.
“Never mind,” he finished. “Take care, I will see you soon.�
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* * * * *
Fonn watched Kos and Pivlic dash down the corridor toward the engine room for a few seconds, and then turned back to Myc.
“We should move to either of these corners,” she said, pointing to either end of the U-bend. “We stay close together, and we keep an eye on everything.” She silently added “and everybody” with the guilty thought that she had taken her eyes off the scouts entirely too much. Any one of them could be … even Myc could be …
No, she told herself, not down that road. Not yet, her self said back, but just you wait. But despite the self-assurances, she still almost leaped out of her skin when she heard a new set of footsteps coming the same way they had. The soft steps, a shuffling gait, were still distant, but she could also make out humming.
The thing that had been Lily rounded the corner, softly carrying on her eerie humming. Fonn was sickeningly sure it was the scout. Her clothing was torn but still recognizable. Her face—gods, her face had been mutilated, eyes and mouth sewn shut. Her skin was deathly pale, already tight and dry. Her silk cloak, once emerald green, had been stained with blood and was now a deep black.
She heard the scouts let out a collective gasp, and Myc stammered, “No. No, Lily.”
The dead girl continued to advance. Rather than face her, Fonn and the scouts, despite themselves and everything they had just been through, recoiled in horror. Fear rolled off of Lily in waves, carried by that pitiful humming, and sank into their bones.
Fonn’s heart raced. She reached for her sword but found she could not draw it. Orval’s teeth were chattering like it was the middle of winter, and Aklechin had begun praying again. And Myc—
Before she could stop him, Myc had drawn Fonn’s silver sword and with a shout, charged forward and skewered the undead corpse of Lilyema Tylver through the heart.
