"Yes, sir!"
And Stab was gone.
"Do you feel insecure, that you need a blade about you in your own redoubt, Jack?"
He turned and smiled.
"These are special times, soul. If you've stayed as near to me as you say you have, you know that I did not ordinarily go in such fashion within these walls. Why do you seek to irritate me?"
"It is a soul's privilege-you might even say, duty-to occasionally do so."
"Then find a better time to exercise your privilege."
"But now is the perfect time. Jack-the most appropriate which has occurred so far. Do you fear that if you lose your powers your subjects may rise up against you?"
"Shut up!"
"You know, of course, that they call you Jack of Evil."
Jack smiled once again.
"No," he said. "It will not work. I will not allow you to anger me, to trick me into something foolish.-Yes, I am aware of the title they have given me, although few have ever said it to my face, and none of these a second time. Do you not realize, however, that were any one of my subjects to occupy my position, he would soon come to bear a similar title?"
"Yes, I do realize this. It is because they lack souls."
"I will not argue with you," said Jack. "Though I would like to know why it is no one ever comments on your presence?"
"I am only visible to you, and then only when I wish to be."
"Excellent!" said Jack. "Why don't you become invisible to me now, too, and leave me to my bath and my meal?"
"Sorry. I am not quite ready."
Jack shrugged and turned his back.
After a time, his tub was brought in and filled with water. Some of it was spilled by a world shudder so violent that it sent a jagged crack like black lightning across one wall. Two
candles toppled and were broken. A ceiling stone fell in a nearby chamber, harming no one.
Before he had fully undressed, a fresh blade was brought to him. He paused to test it, then nodded.
Before he had entered the tub, fresh garments were laid beside him on a bench.
Before he had finished bathing, a table was set nearby.
By the time he had dried himself, dressed and picked up his blade, the food was upon the table and his place was set.
He ate slowly, savoring each mouthful. He ate an enormous quantity.
Then he rose and retired to his study, where he located cigarettes. From there he moved to the foot of his favorite tower and mounted its stair.
Atop this tower, smoking, he studied the black sphere. Yes, it had moved considerably since last he had looked at it. Jack blew smoke in its direction. Perhaps it was an effect of the drugs, but he felt a sense of elation over what he had done. Come what comes, he was the mover, father of the new circumstances.
"Are you sorry now, Jack?" asked his soul.
"No," said Jack. "It had to be done."
"But are you sorry it had to be done?"
"No," said Jack.
"Why did you burn the inn at the Sign of the Burning Pestle, on the coach road by the ocean?"
"To avenge Rosalie, for the treatment she received at that place."
"What were your feelings as you walked along the beach afterward?"
"I don't know."
"Were you just angry and tired? Or was it more than that?"
"I was sad. I was sorry."
"Do you get that way very often?"
"No."
"Do you wish to know why you have felt more such things recently?"
"If you know, tell me."
"It is because I am about. You have a soul, a soul which has been freed. I am always near you. You have begun to feel my influence. Is it such a bad thing?"
"Ask me another time," said Jack. "I came to watch things, not to talk."
... And his words reached the ears of one who sought him, as a distant mountain shrugged off its peak, spewed fire into the air, belched and was still once again.
13
JACK LISTENED вЪ the sound of snapping rocks and watched the black spot fall; he heard the groans within the world; he saw the lines of fire cross the land.
There now came to his nostrils the acrid odors of the inner world. Ashes, like the bats of his predecessor, swarmed, rose, fell in the chilly air. The stars executed movements never before recorded in the heavens. Seven torch-topped mountains stood in the distance, and he recalled the day he had made one move. Flocks of meteors constantly strung the sky, reminding him of the appearance of the heavens on the day of his last resurrection. Clouds of vapor and trails of smoke occasionally obscured the constellations. The ground did not cease its trembling, and far below him Shadow Guard was shaken upon its foundation. He did not fear the falling of the tower, for such was his fondness of the place that he had laid mighty spells upon it and knew that it would stand so long as his power held.
His soul stood silent at his side. He lit another cigarette and watched a landslide on a nearby mountain.
Slowly the clouds gathered. They collected in the distance, where a storm began. Like many-legged, fiery-legged insects, they strode from mountain to mountain. They lit up the northern sky, were assailed by the meteorites, were spat at by the attacked land. After a time, Jack could hear the growling attendant upon the conflict. After a greater time, he noted that the battle was moving in his direction.
When it was almost upon him, Jack smiled and drew his blade.
"Now, soul," he said, "we'll see how my powers hold."
With this, he scratched a pattern on the stone and spoke.
The river of light and thunder parted, flowing about Shadow Guard, passing it on either side, leaving it untouched.
"Very good."
"Thank you."
They now stood enveloped: the ground burned and shook beneath them, the storm raged about them, the sky was barred by shooting stars above.
"Now how will you be able to tell?"
"I'll be able to tell. In fact, a lot can be told already, can it not?" Jack said.
His soul did not reply.
Hearing a footfall, he turned toward the stair.
"It will be Evene," he said. "Storms frighten her, and she always comes to me when they occur."
Evene emerged from the stairwell, saw Jack, rushed to his side. She did not speak. He wrapped his cloak and his arm about her. She stood there shivering.
"Do you not feel any remorse over what you have done to her?"
"Some," said Jack.
"Then why do you not undo it?"
"No."
"Is it that remembering, she would hate you?"
Jack did not reply.
"She cannot hear me. If I phrase questions, you could reply briefly and she would think you are but muttering.-Is it more than hate?"
"Yes."
Both were silent for a time. "Is it that you fear she will go mad if restored?"
"Yes."
"This means you possess more emotions and sentiments than once you did, more than I had even suspected."
Jack did not reply.
The noise and the flashing lights were still all about them, and Evene finally turned her head, faced him and said, "It is terrible up here. Shall we go below, my dear?"
"No. You may, if you wish. But I must remain."
"Then I will stay with you."
Slowly, very slowly, the storm began to pass, died down, was gone. Jack saw that the mountains still burned, saw too, that the ruptured land heaved forth fires of its own. Turning, he noted a whiteness in the air that he finally realized was not smoke, but snow. This was far to the west, however.
He had a sudden feeling that it was not going to work, that the devastation would be too complete. But there was nothing to do now but watch.