The first company of guards dispersed to form a ring around the pyre and post. The drummers marched past the site and halted. A ring of fire encircled the funeral bed as the torchbearers spread out single file around it. The pallbearers entered the circle of fire with swaying step and carefully placed the bier atop the sturdy pyramid of kindling. They withdrew outside the cordon of guards.
Vuel entered the ring and paused for a moment at the foot of Belbe's bier. He bowed deeply, then walked to the post and snapped the manacles around his own hands.
The executioner took his place beside Vuel. He carried no ax or sword, just a small leather bag.
The final contingent of guards halted in the path, blocking it. The drummers carried on for a short while, then finished their march with a flourish of batons. Silence engulfed the scene.
Overhead, the drone of aerial engines announced the arrival of Predator. Greven was now accounted for. The airship emerged from the Stronghold and slowly circled the funeral site. The sky was unusually free of clouds, and no wind stirred the pewter dusk.
There was a flash near the pyre. Some of the spectators thought the fire had been lit, but it was Crovax's arrival. Most people had never seen him teleport before, and he was gratified by the awe rippling through the crowd. The evincar was resplendent in new white armor and helmet. Even his leather gloves were white.
"People of Rath!" he boomed. "This a solemn occasion. We are here to celebrate death-and celebrate we should, because death is as essential to life as food, warmth, or breath. Death is the great measuring rod against which we gauge our lives, and before us today are two whose lives have come to their end.
"The emissary of our overlords accomplished much in her short life. She should always be remembered for bridging the awkward and dangerous interregnum between my reign and that of the previous evincar."
He took a torch from the nearest bearer and raised it high. "Hail, Belbe! Emissary of the overlords!"
The guards repeated Crovax's cry, and the crowd took it up. Crovax thrust his flaming brand into the pyre, and the other torch bearers followed suit. The timbers had been soaked in volatile spirits and caught fire with great speed.
Crovax approached the executioner. "How are you, Ertai?" he asked.
Off came the hood. "Fine, sire. It is a magnificent evening."
The once cocky sorcerer had been changed. Modifications, not unlike Greven's, had made the man taller and wider. From under his heavy robe, Ertai produced not two but four arms! And his face was partially concealed from view by a metallic mask and shoulder plating. Only his forehead, eyes, and the bridge of his nose could be seen by members of the crowd. The upper end of the control rod implanted in Ertai's spine was also visible. The incision was still inflamed, but the yellow metal rod clearly showed through the boy's livid skin.
Crovax gave the order. "Prepare the injection."
Ertai knelt and opened the bag. There were two objects inside: a tall vial of silver liquid and a large metal syringe. He broke the seal on the vial and dipped the needle into the heavy liquid.
"This will take a few seconds," he said apologetically.
"Do the job right," Crovax said. He stood face to face with Vuel and said, "Any last words? Go ahead, speak your mind." He'd had Vuel's tongue cut out the night before. "Nothing to say? That's refreshing. Looking back at your reign, I have to say you talked entirely too much."
Ertai stood. "The preparation is ready, Sire."
"Proceed."
Ertai pushed the syringe plunger to expel any air. Silver droplets squirted from the needle. Where the droplets hit the ground, they formed tiny spheres that spun madly in place.
Vuel's eyes widened.
Ertai jabbed the needle into Vuel's carotid artery. The preparation was too dense to pump into an arm or leg vein. Vuel's bloodshot eyes bulged as Ertai forced the plunger down. He thrashed against his chains, to no avail. When the syringe was empty, Ertai jerked it out.
"Your Highness, it is done. Will you do the honors?"
Crovax folded his arms across his chest and inhaled deeply. "The task is yours. Carry out the sentence."
Ertai bowed. He stood by Vuel's side and formed the command in his mind. The former evincar trembled. His head snapped around, and he stared at Ertai in abject horror.
Vuel tore against his manacles as convulsions wracked his body. One by one his toenails and fingernails sloughed off. The skin of his extremities split, and red blood-no longer glistening oil-ran out on the gray ground. His joints disintegrated, and as he watched, his fingers fell off, joint by joint.
Liquid flowstone coursed through his veins, obeying Ertai's last command: disassemble. The nano-machines attacked Vuel from the inside, dismantling his body at a cellular level. His knees dissolved and his lower legs dropped away, leaving the former master of Rath dangling by his manacled wrists. Then his wrists came off, and he fell to the ground.
Vuel landed face upward. As his ears and nose slid from his face, as his teeth bubbled out of his mouth on the last breath from his lungs, he saw the ever-gray sky of Rath change to perfect, cloudless blue. It was the sky of Dominaria, and Vuel, son of Kondo, had returned home at last.
The fire burned out. Nothing but ashes remained of the flesh of Belbe.
The plain was empty. Vuel was gone. Not even bones were left as the implacable flowstone disassembled him down to the last gory mote. Ertai alone remained. He waited under a sky he knew for the fire to die. When the last small flames went out, he waded into the pile of cinders that had been Belbe's bier, heedless of hot embers. Her metal skeleton was intact, though warped by the pyre's intense heat. He found her small skull, smudged and blackened but with bright alloy gleaming around the eye sockets. He tucked the warm skull under his arm.
His foot dislodged an unfamiliar object-a black sphere about four inches in diameter. He picked it up. It was cold to the touch, not hot, and not a speck of ash clung to it. The shiny surface was seamless, unmarred. Phyrexian, no doubt. Belbe's "lens."
Even with a control rod in his spine, Ertai was terrified. He dropped the black orb and kicked it back into the ashes. All he wanted was the skull. He ran back to the Stronghold under the stars of Dominaria, praying the lens no longer worked.