“How do we fix him?” Geth said.
“He is not broken, dunce,” Tezzeret said. “He is not a machine.”
“But he is metal,” Geth growled, his own exoskeletal framework swelling with anger.
“So are you, and nobody’s been able to fix what’s wrong with you.”
Geth moved to swipe Tezzeret’s neck with his huge claw. Tezzeret merely grabbed Geth’s claw with his etherium hand and in a moment the claw was bent into the form of a five-petal flower.
Geth bellowed and raised his other claw.
Tezzeret held up one finger. “Attention. I will turn your other hand into something more, shall we say, anatomically correct for where I will insert it if you continue this.”
It took Geth a moment to piece through what Tezzeret said. His anger seemed to swell even more when understanding bloomed on his face.
“Are you both done?” Glissa said.
“I have always dreamed of being flesh,” Karn said. “Metal is cold. Flesh is a meat machine. Flesh is metal.”
Tezzeret smiled at Geth, who was looking down at his one good claw.
“I have received word of a totally flesh being,” Glissa said. Karn suddenly looked up at her.
“Flesh is a cage too,” Karn yelled.
Glissa ignored him. “Would either of you have any idea how we could use such a freak?”
Both Geth and Tezzeret shook their heads.
“You’ll have to be creative,” Tezzeret said. “I would have no idea what to do with such an anomaly.”
“You lie too well,” Glissa said. “It gives you away. Your master sent you here to assist, I believe.”
“That is what he said,” Tezzeret said.
“I believe there is a certain caveat to this endeavor. She cannot be infected by our gift.”
“Really?” Tezzeret said. “Perhaps she should be released to the rebel settlement.”
Then Karn began bellowing. “Maybe what we think makes us free is nothing more than a symptom of our cage,” he said.
All three stopped and turned. Karn was regarding his own steely hand very closely.
“I like that,” Tezzeret said suddenly. “What he just said.” He swept his arm toward the throne. “What if all this is holding us back?”
Glissa put her hand to her head and closed her eyes.
“I will give you more experimenters,” Glissa said. “Find why this flesh creature refuses to be infected.”
But Tezzeret did not acknowledge what she said. He stared keenly at Karn.
“We make our own cages,” Tezzeret said.
“Did you hear, creature,” Geth said, stepping forward.
Tezzeret raised his eyes slowly until they met Geth’s. Geth stepped back.
“If there were worms on Mirrodin,” Tezzeret said, watching Karn sink onto his knees and hands, and then begin walking on them on all fours. “He is at the point where he would begin eating them.”
But Glissa would not be ignored, and she clearly had not the slightest fear of Tezzeret. “Do you understand your assignment, or do I need to have your arm taken off so you remember it?”
“You will need to have my arm taken off,” Tezzeret said matter-of-factly, not taking his eyes off Karn as he spoke.
But then Karn straightened and stood. He looked down at Geth, Glissa, and Tezzeret. “Why do you torture me so?”
“You are changing, Father,” Glissa said. “We are not torturing you. We have made this change ourselves already.”
“Speak for yourself, oddity,” Tezzeret said.
“But who am I?” Karn said.
“You are the Father of Machines,” Geth said.
“I have known that name before, from a dream,” Karn said. “But he was not me.”
Tezzeret yawned. “He’s you all right. Just ask either of these two.”
“Who is this?” Karn said lucidly-pushing his chin at Tezzeret.
“That is Tezzeret, Father,” Glissa said. “He has been sent to help us.”
“Help how?”
“Help us finish our work here, I don’t know,” Glissa said, suddenly frustrated.
Karn looked from one to the other of them. “You are all three mad. I am leaving this place.” He began walking toward the wall. Glissa did nothing to stop him.
Karn reached the nearest wall and tapped twice on it. Nothing happened. He tapped twice on it again. Still nothing happened. He turned back. “What have you done with my portals?”
“They are no longer yours,” Glissa said. “They are ours, and we are you.”
“Oh,” Karn said, as casually as if she had told him the temperature of the air. But in the next moment the brightness seemed to drain out of Karn’s eyes, and he slipped down the wall until his feet were bent under him. The fine droplets of oil appeared all over his body again.
“His body, or his mind, will not fully accept what we give,” Glissa said.
“He is not one of us,” Geth said.
Glissa turned on him. “He is as much Phyrexian as I am. Let nobody say otherwise. We need Karn if we are ever to fully integrate Mirrodin.”
“How did you become so wise to the plan?” Tezzeret demanded.
“You already know more than your mandate dictates,” Glissa said. “Now know this: you will infect this flesh creature and find the rebel settlement. Kill everything and bring their bodies back so we can utilize them. Bring the fully infected flesh creature to me personally. I like flesh. I find it interesting. I have my own collection, you know.”
“Is that so?” Tezzeret said. “It disgusts me. Flesh is weakness.”
“Yes!” Geth said, raising his one good claw.
“Silence, fool,” Glissa said to Geth, who put his arm down. “Flesh has its uses.” She turned back to Tezzeret. “Now, you will travel on your little quest with my own guards. Do you understand?”
Tezzeret regarded her coolly.
“Do you understand?” Glissa repeated.
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Now then,” Glissa walked over to where Karn lay crumpled on the floor, panting. She took hold of his arm with her hand and the hooked part of her scythe hand. “Come, Father, why not sit comfortably atop your throne.”
But she could not budge the silver golem. “You have taken my portals.” He pulled his arm free and leveled a blow against the wall, denting it deeply.
Tezzeret tried to imagine what a blow like that would do to Glissa, or Geth for that matter. Tezzeret knew what he would do if Karn tried it with him: he’d throttle the life out of the mad bastard, no matter how much he respected his craftsmanship. Or at least he’d try. The truth was that Tezzeret loved what Karn was. Karn, the creator of planes and organizer of metals. To see such a magnificent artificer brought to that kind of subjugation was a blemish on what it meant to bend metal.
“Leave him be,” Tezzeret said. “There squats the creator of Mirrodin,” Tezzeret said, suddenly serious. “Neither of you have sung metals to form, have given everything you are to be great. You do not have the right to be in the same room with him.”
“But you do?” Glissa said.
“I have stolen, killed, and scraped for the ability to create etherium. Nobody ever gave me an ounce of value. I took it and now I am one of very few to control this great metal that is essence.”
“Are you finished, philosopher?” Glissa said.
“You promised me I would have a force of my own,” Tezzeret said through unsmiling lips.
“I did, didn’t I?” Glissa said. “But who trusts the word of a Phyrexian? Honor is a social construct. We do not follow constructs. We follow hunger. Anyway, who are we kidding? You want more than a force, you want an army. You have been building an army. We know this. We have been watching.”
A force of ten Phyrexians slinked through the far door. They were each one worked through with patina-covered copper, with gray muscle herniating out between the gaps in the jagged structure. Their eyes were black and dripping.
“You can steal, kill, and scrape your way to the settlement with my minions. “You will find these harder to control than your blue ones,” Glissa promised. “Now go.”
Geth made to follow Tezzeret.