“I can’t walk away.”
“That you talking, or Doc?”
“Doc is silent on the subject,” I said. “He doesn’t want to die any more than I do-but he also can’t let me back off. You, on the other hand, are under no obligation to perish at our side.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in popping back to Vectis to pull your doohickey out of Beleren’s brain first, would you?”
I only looked at her.
“Sure, what did I expect?” she said. “You’re not the merciful type.”
“More merciful than he was,” I said. “He’s alive. And he may yet be whole and hale.”
“If we win.”
“Yes. If we win.”
She took a deep, deep breath as though about to take a plunge to black water, without knowing whether she’d ever breathe again. Finally she let it out in a gust, shook the kinks out of her shoulders, and said, “All right. Let’s do it.”
“Baltrice-”
“Shut up, Tezzeret. I mean it. Shut up because whatever you’re about to say, I really don’t want to hear.”
I stood in silence.
Eventually, she turned to me. “You have a plan, right? Tell me you have a plan.”
I said, “I have a plan.”
THE METAL ISLAND
Still reclining upon the etherium sand, the ancient dragon snorted another gust of greasy, meat-scented smoke. “What a pathetic creature you are.”
Tezzeret smiled. “Flatterer.”
“You spew egomania like a sneeze sprays snot. Except snot tastes better,” Bolas said. “Maybe you should kill me now. Put me out of your misery.”
“If death is what you’re looking for, you need only wait,” Tezzeret said. “Or, I suppose, ask me nicely.”
The dragon rolled his eyes and took a deep breath in an apparent attempt to control exasperation. “Do you understand just how preposterously self-centered your whole theory of reality is, you demented little gutter monkey? ‘Oooh, Crucius did everything just for meeeee…’ ‘Oooh, Rennnn’s waiting there to spank me!’ Revolting.”
“Thank you.”
“You did understand, even back there, that for your theory to be accurate, Crucius would have had to anticipate not only your brains getting scrambled by Beleren-all right, to be fair, anyone who knows the two of you saw that one coming-but he would have had to somehow make me glue your pieces back together and strong-arm you into looking for him in the first place.”
“When you put it that way, it does seem unlikely,” Tezzeret said mildly. “And yet, here I am.”
“Not because Crucius planned it this way.”
“As soon as the Grand Hegemon departs,” Tezzeret said with a casual wave toward the cloud of etherium-colored mist that still enveloped Sharuum and the Metal Sphinx together, “you are welcome to ask him.”
“Like I actually believe any of this.”
“I can say with considerable certainty that at this moment, nothing in any universe depends upon whether you believe in it or not,” Tezzeret replied. “I knew an Ethersworn monk once, who made it a practice to believe six impossible things before breakfast; if he could manage only five, he stayed in bed.”
“Baltrice was right,” Bolas muttered. “You’ve spent too much time around sphinxes.”
“Disquieting, isn’t it?” Tezzeret smiled thoughtfully toward the great statue. “I may be coming to understand how they think.”
“Tezzeret.” The musical harmonics of the Grand Hegemon’s voice wafted from the cloud like audible incense. “We are finished.”
Tezzeret raised a hand, and the cloud faded. Sharuum backed way from the Metal Sphinx as though unwilling to take her eyes from its etherium face. “You have done all that was asked of you, and more. The word of a sphinx is not lightly given, nor can it be broken. As promised, all that I have is yours, to keep or to abandon, to build or to destroy.”
Tezzeret said gravely, “Thank you.”
“Is this a joke?” The dragon’s scaly jaw dropped toward the sand while the rest of him was in the process of rising. “Did she just give you the plane?”
“Part of one.”
“It’s a pretty nice thank-you gift.”
“Yes.” He looked up at Bolas, who now towered over him. “Sit.”
The dragon glowered down at him, but sat.
“Stay.” Tezzeret walked toward Sharuum. “I will return you now to our land.”
“Must you? I had… hoped… I might abide here. For… company.”
“You cannot,” Tezzeret said. “You have given yourself to me, per our bargain, and this is my wilclass="underline" that you return to Esper and rule as you always have, that you place your great wisdom in service to our land and all who call it home, and that you treat all of my possessions as your own.”
The great sphinx stared down at him, uncomprehending, silent with astonishment.
“If I should chance to change my mind,” he said through his thin smile, “I’ll let you know.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and she lowered her head until Tezzeret might have touched her mask-shield with his hand. “Your gracious nature confounds me, Tezzeret,” she piped solemnly. “I do not know how to address you with proper honor, as the master of my life and all I possess.”
“If you choose to address me by any word other than my name,” he said, “I would be honored to be called your friend.”
Behind him the dragon grunted disgustedly, “Since when do you have friends?”
“Bolas.” Tezzeret did not turn around, and his voice was mild as the ocean around them: a gentle surface beneath which lurked unimaginable threat. “Manners.”
The dragon growled low in his throat, but subsided.
“Then my friend you shall be,” piped Sharuum, “unto the end of my days, and beyond. It will be written upon my tomb, first among my titles: ‘Friend to Tezzeret the Seeker.’ ”
“Thank you,” he said, and reached up to touch the edge of her mask-shield with one hand.
The etherium that had filled her scars turned once more to liquid, draining down her face like silvery tears. “The etherium strands-the tears of my beloved-bring light to my eyes and strength to my limbs. They cannot remain?”
“From this place, one can take only what is brought from beyond,” Tezzeret said. “And memories.”
“Then let it be so. Memories are more than I’d hoped to gain.”
Tezzeret gestured, and the rippling plane of etherium-colored interplanar gate reappeared. “Give my regards to your son.”
Sharuum, Grand Hegemon of Esper, looked back at him with a smile and, astonishingly, a wink. “It will be done, my friend,” she said, then entered the gate and passed beyond the universe.
Tezzeret turned toward where Nicol Bolas sat upon the etherium sand like an obedient puppy-a sixty-foot-long, fire-breathing, horned, scaled, and impressively fanged puppy, but obedient nonetheless.
“As I promised, you are free to depart as well, Bolas,” Tezzeret said, “but my tale nears its end. I hope you might be interested enough to stay yet awhile.”
“Your tale is closer to its end than you think.” The dragon’s eyes went sleepy, and a hint of sneer curled one corner of his upper lip. “You’ve gotten so good at riddles, try this one: What’s at each end of a tale?”
“Our business doesn’t have to take very long, but if you choose to be difficult,” Tezzeret said, “it can take the rest of your life.”
“Aw, Tezzie, come on! Play along.”
“Don’t call me Tezzie,” he said. “Before you answer, recall that here and now, I can stop you. And I can promise you won’t like it.”
“Tezzeret, then. Humor me.” The dragon’s sneer spread toward a mocking grin. “What’s at each end of a tale?”
With a tiny irritated shake of his head, Tezzeret said, “Fine. I give. What’s at each end of a tale?”
“At one end, nothing at all,” the dragon said. “At the other, an asshole.”
Tezzeret made a face. “Up to your usual standard of wit.”
“You just don’t get why it’s funny. It’s a double pun,” said Nicol Bolas. “Come on, Tezzie-you called me an asshole…”
“I called you a doltish thug.”