The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 3: Choice

Choice

The police arrive a couple of minutes after the golem returns to its portal. Mandrake and I stand in the middle of the crime scene, surrounded by detectives and uniformed officers.

We are asked a bunch of questions. All we tell them is that Mandrake formed a shield and we were able to chase them off. Mandrake and I agreed beforehand that we shouldn’t disclose the presence of the golem. That would cause too many problems.

After the questioning is over, Mandrake leads me through the throng of reporters, pushing a path for the both of us. After we reach somewhere relatively private, he turns to me.

“They’re just going to keep coming after you,” Mandrake says. “I think we should head them off. Let them give you their offer before more innocent people get killed.”

I nod. “I think that would be best too. Do you know where they’re based?”

“In a warehouse in West London,” says Mandrake. “I can lead you there. I can’t be present for the offer, however.”

A limousine rolls up next to us, as well as two black vans. At least a dozen of my devils climb out of the vans. Sebastian steps out of the limo and strides towards me.

He bows. “Master,” he says, “We were unable to stop the Dark Silverbones from assaulting you. I am truly sorry.”

I shake my head. “You couldn’t know,” I say. “These are very powerful people, after all.”

Sebastian wears a confused expression. “But we failed you,” he says.

“No,” I say, putting my hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “You did the best you could.”

Sebastian looks very happy at this moment. He bows again. “Thank you for your kindness, master,” he says.

“Anyways,” I say, “Can you get the contents of the S-class portal to help keep innocent people from being killed by dark Silverbones?”

“As you wish,” says Sebastian. “I assume you want to go somewhere?”

“Yes,” I say. “Mandrake will lead us to the spot where the dark Silverbones are going to negotiate with me.”

Sebastian’s face goes pale. “Master. You aren’t going to actually interact with these monsters, are you?”

I nod. “It’s the only way. If they don’t get their shot at recruiting me, they’re going to keep killing innocent people.”

Sebastian looks flustered. “Master, I don’t think you understand how alluring their offer will be.”

Mandrake nods. “Yes, lad,” he says. “Your butler is right. I’ve been trying to tell you. You won’t be able to refuse them.”

I stamp my foot. “I’m going to refuse them and that’s the end of things.”

Mandrake is almost smiling, but it is clear he has reservations. “I admire your bravery, lad,” he says. He turns to the limo. “If you want, I can accompany you to the site. However, I won’t be able to enter the negotiations alongside you.”

I nod. “Great. Climb in and we can get this over with.”

Sebastian opens the limo doors for us and we enter. We then drive through the London streets until we reach a looming warehouse a considerable distance from the city center.

Sebastian stops the car. “We have several snipers on target,” he says. “So you’ll be safe during this meeting. I must impress on you now, though, that you aren’t completely invulnerable. We don’t know what the Darks have up their sleeve.”

I step out of the limo. The warehouse is covered in hanging vines. Most of the windows are boarded up or broken.

The door opens and a man with an eyepatch leans out.

“Ah, Mr. Red,” he says. He gives the limo and Sebastian the evil eye.

Sebastian rolls down the driver’s side window. “We will be up the block,” he says. The limo pulls away.

The man with the eyepatch extends his hand. “The name’s Deeve. I assume you know why we’re here?”

I nod. “I’m here to listen to your offer.”

Deeve grins. He opens the door and leads me in. We walk through a dusty open area, lit by shafts of light from the broken overhead windows.

I see Ronald sitting on a crate, next to a beautiful woman with deep black hair. The woman winks at me. Ronald grimaces.

“You bastard,” he says, in his thick German accent. “You’re going to pay for throwing me like that.”

“Calm, Ronald,” says Deeve. “We don’t want to spoil the goods.” He points at Ronald. “You probably already know him. He’s Ronald.” Deeve points at the girl. “And she’s Generica.”

“I already greeted you,” says Generica, with a lopsided grin on her face.

I shudder at the memory of the exploding body and ensuing confetti storm.

Deeve sits down on a box. “So. We want to make it very clear that we are looking to recruit you. If we do recruit you, we will promise to awaken the girl you are so infatuated with.” He gives a lopsided grin. “And I assume the reward Mr. Blanche will give you will be quite worth your trouble.”

I shake my head. “I don’t believe you. No one can heal her. We’ve already tried so many options.”

Deeve rests his chin on his palms. “Why would we lie to you?”

“Because you’re killers,” I say. “Murderers.”

“Have you heard of honor among thieves?” says Deeve. He sighs. “We wouldn’t want to have a member among us under false pretenses.”

I get it, if only slightly. If I learned that they couldn’t deliver their promises, I would leave. And they want me alive.

But there’s still the fact that these guys are evil.

“The second motivation,” says Deeve, “Is that we’re going to kill your family and friends if you don’t join us.”

I am too stunned to speak. “But—” I say.

Deeve grins. “We are killers, after all,” he says. He makes a finger gun. “Boom.”

Ronald laughs with a deep, booming voice. “Kill! Yes, kill their family! Torture their wives and daughters!”

Generica elbows Ronald. “Would you shut up?” She says.

Ronald grunts. I assume that means he will shut up. Which is great for me because he was talking about some scary stuff.

I shake my head. “My network will protect my parents,” I say.

Deeve smiles with a sickly sweetness. “Are you sure? They couldn’t protect you.”

A rock is sinking in my stomach. I don’t know what to do or say.

Deeve clicks his tongue. “I see that you are split. I, of course, understand.” He is giving me a sickly-sweet smile. “But you must know what you are going to lose if you don’t join us.”

I take a step backwards. “I don’t want to be evil,” I say. “You guys are clearly the bad guys in this case.”

“Bold of you to say that to our face,” says Deeve. “I’m starting to like your feistiness.” He snaps his fingers and make a gun from his fingers again, pointing it at me. “I would normally kill someone for saying something like that, but you’re special.” He chuckles. “We’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

My mind is racing. I don’t know what to do in this situation. This is nothing like when I infiltrated the mafia. These guys are serious and powerful.

I back towards the door. “I don’t want to work with you,” I say. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Deeve flicks out a butterfly knife and begins to pick his nails. “You’ve made your choice, then?” he says. “We’re going to give you until you return to New York to change your mind. We are nice people, after all.”

“How do I know you’ll keep that promise?” I say.

Deeve chuckles, looking at his blade under the light. “I told you about honor among thieves, didn’t I?”

Ronald barks out laughter. “Boss!” he says. “You’re the only one who says that!”

“I told you to shut it, Ronald,” says Generica. She grins at me. “I don’t enjoy rushing things. Taking your time is what leads to the most enjoyment.” She waves her hand with a dismissive motion. “Now scram. We’ll be here all month. Come back when you change your mind.”

Deeve nods his chin towards the door. “You can return to your petty little life for now,” he says, “But you can’t escape your destiny.”

I back out the door, into the street. The door closes in front of me and I am standing alone outside the warehouse.

Sebastian pulls up to the sidewalk with my limo. Mandrake rolls down the passenger window. “Did you refuse them?” he says.

I nod, as Sebastian gets out and opens the door for me. “They gave me a month. If I don’t join them by the deadline, they’ll kill my family and friends.”

Mandrake cringes. “And you had the stupidity to believe them,” he says.

“Strangely enough,” I say, “They looked like they would keep their promise.” I step into the limo, sitting down on the plush leather seat.

Mandrake’s eyes go wide. “You seriously underestimate the deviousness of the Darks.”

I take a diet root beer out of the hidden fridge, popping it open. “I don’t know why,” I say. “I just get the feeling that they value me more than just as a victim of their schemes.”

Mandrake rubs his temples. “That’s the problem,” he says. “I can’t predict what they’re thinking.”

“We need to figure out how to protect my parents,” I say. “If we don’t, they’re going to die.” I take a deep draught from the root beer can. “That’s what we need to be thinking about right now.” I put the can down on the bordered drink table.

Mandrake turns to the window. “I’ll do something,” he says. “If you decide to join us now, me and my comrades will do everything we can to protect you and your parents.” He pauses. “That’s all we can do. We have nothing else that you would value that we can offer.”

“I don’t want to become a villain and a murderer,” I say, “Which is what I know will happen if I join the Darks.” I grip the arm rest of my chair. “That’s something I will do my utmost to prevent.”

Mandrake looks me in the eye. “Make your decision.”

“I’ll join you,” I say. This is the same as the trolley problem. Do I pull the lever, possibly killing one? Or do I do nothing and let fate bring me to become a villain who kills many?

I already know what I have chosen.

Mandrake looks visibly relieved. He leans towards the drivers seat, holding a piece of paper. “Take us to this address,” he says.

“As you wish,” says Sebastian. He makes several turns and then drives us to a remote location in the English countryside. We arrive at a luxurious country manor in the style of late Victorian. A woman with red hair is sitting on a swing seat in the middle of a well-manicured garden. She stands up when she sees our limo approaching.

We pull up into the driveway and Sebastian opens the door to let me out. I step onto the concrete.

The red-haired woman smiles at me. “The name’s Robin,” she says, extending her hand.

I shake it. “I assume you’re one of the Brights?” I ask.

Robin chuckles. “Indeed I am.”

Mandrake stands beside me, his hands in his pockets. “Hey, Rob,” he says.

Robin smiles at him, though her eyes are complex. “Mandrake,” she says. “You managed to keep him alive.”

“No thanks to my efforts,” says Mandrake. “This kid knows how to handle himself pretty well. He survived a direct encounter with three of the Darks.”

Robin looks at me with a touch of surprise on her face. “They let you leave without killing you?”

“It just proves how much they value him,” says Mandrake. “Which, in my book, is a very bad thing.”

“Right,” says Robin. “That means they’ll probably stop at nothing to recruit him.” She turns to me. “Come. We’ll meet the rest of the Brights who are here at the moment.” She turns back around and starts walking up the garden path.

“What’s your spirit?” I say.

Robin holds out her palm, without looking at me, and a blast of intensely hot fire roars out of her skin. “Fire,” she says.

“She absorbed a ten thousand year fire slug spirit,” says Mandrake. “Along with many lesser rings.”

“I never asked what your power is,” I say, to Mandrake.

Mandrake shrugs. “It’s oxygen,” he says. “When combined with Robin’s power …” Mandrake stops for a moment. “Anyways, if I have access to a spark, I can combust pretty much anything.”

“You said there were six Brights?” I say.

“Four of us, including me, are in England right now,” says Mandrake.

We go through the manor’s grand entrance. The foyer is huge, with a chandelier comprised of at least a hundred individual lights. It twinkles as I look at it.

“How do you afford this place?” I say.

“We’re not poor,” says Mandrake.

“I had that idea about you for some reason,” I say.

“No matter,” says Mandrake. “We do a lot of consulting for dungeon guilds and government agencies.”

“Oh,” I say.

A wire-thin man with long black hair leans over the railings of the upper level. “You brought the newbie,” he says.

“That’s Neo,” says Mandrake. “His power is ruby. He can make the sharpest blade you’ve ever seen with it.”

Neo seems to be evaluating me.

“He’s young,” he says. “Isn’t he still in high school?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he’s S-class,” says Mandrake.

Neo shrugs. “The world must be going funny if a kid like him can be S-class.”

“He killed a balrog,” says Robin. “And he helped save Wales from the S-class portal.”

Neo whistles. “You’ve got a resume, then,” he says. He grins at me. “Welcome to the club.”

“He hasn’t joined us yet,” says Robin.

“I want to change that,” I say. “I’ll say it again. I’ll join you.”

The room is silent.

“Even when they threatened to kill your friends and family?” says Mandrake.

“Especially because they threatened to kill my friends and family,” I say. “I don’t want to spend my life with that hanging over me. We have a month to figure things out. If we don’t figure it out by then, we could at the very least hide my parents somewhere.”

Mandrake smiles. “That’s a good choice,” he says. He crosses his arms. “There’s no formal procedure to join us. All you have to do is say you’re in.”

“You guys don’t have anything like an oath that I have to recite?” I ask.

“We abolished that a while ago,” says Neo, still leaning on the bannisters. “It wasn’t working like intended.”

Mandrake nods. “This is an honor-based position. It’s up to you to maintain your integrity while you’re with us.”

“I will,” I say.

A rather fat woman wearing a multicolored dress comes out of the hallway. She holds her hands in front of her mouth and chuckles in a very British style. “It’s so good to finally meet you,” She says. She waves her hand like a fan. “I’ve been waiting to see what kind of a young man you are.”

“That’s Ari,” says Mandrake. “She’s the reason why we can speak English fluently with you.”

“Your native language isn’t English?” I say. “You speak it perfectly.”

“Ari is the one who made that possible,” says Mandrake. “My real native language is Greek.”

Hm. Mandrake did appear to be ethnically Greek.

“So her spirit has to do with language?” I ask.

“The dictionary,” says Mandrake. “Her spirit is almost, but not quite, language itself.”

“I’ve never heard of a spirit like that,” I say.

Mandrake chuckles. “You get used to it,” he says. Then he turns to Neo and Ari. “Let’s have a meeting in the conference room.” He looks at me. “You too,” he says.

“Can I bring Sebastian too?” I say.

“Sure,” says Mandrake. He begins walking towards the hallway entrance. “The more, the merrier.”

I start walking towards the hallway behind him.

The Lesser One Arc 2: Chapter 2: Restaurant

Restaurant

The aftermath of the sniper attack is only slightly more prolonged than the attack itself. Mandrake summons a sheet of glass to replace the broken one and puts it in place with a couple of slaps. The broken glass pieces are shoved into a trash bin and I am the one to carry it into the street.

Mandrake grins. “That damn bastard. The sniper was probably hired by the Darks to give us a scare.” He holds the bullet he caught between two fingers up to the light. “But I must say, using pure gold bullets sure stinks of petty overspending.”

As he says, the bullet is indeed made of gold.

“Well,” says Mandrake. “At least we know that the Darks have a good source of funding. But we could have guessed that, right?”

I nod. “Can I see the bullet?”

“Sure,” says Mandrake, dropping the solid gold nugget into my hand. It is a lot heavier than I thought it would be. Since it was caught perfectly between two fingers, it hasn’t been deformed much by impact.

“Can I keep this?” I ask.

Mandrake chuckles. “Sure. Though I don’t know what a kid who can easily buy as much gold as they desire would do with a tiny nugget like this. For me this is a lot but for you? No.” He pauses. “It would take some serious capital to buy enough of these to win in a sustained firefight. Plus, it’s just wasteful.”

I cup the gold bullet in my hand. It is warm.

Mandrake rummages through a bin and pulls out a sheet of metal.

“This is a prototype I’m working on,” he says. He hands it to me. “Since you’re the metals expert here, I was wondering what you’d think of it.”

I rub my thumb along the metal. “It’s fine,” I say. To tell the truth, I actually do not know as much about metal as Mandrake seems to think I do.

Though I have studied up a lot in my quest to find a way to teach those conjurers Crayton hired for me.

“Good,” says Mandrake. He takes the sheet and tacks it to the window with nails. Now the only light in the room is coming from a desk lamp. Mandrake sits in the recliner properly this time. He takes out a cigar and cuts it. After a thorough examination, he lights it with an antique lighter. After a single puff he lets it hang out of his fingers.

“I trust you have a strong conscience,” says Mandrake. “You were able to avoid causing trouble even with the huge amount of resources at your disposal.”

“Um, I’m not sure they’re so huge,” I say.

Mandrake takes another puff of his cigar. “Nonsense. You are the master of the entire contents of an S-class portal. Including the bosses. With that power you could conquer the world.”

I shake my head. “But I don’t want to.”

“Exactly,” says Mandrake. “However, your power makes you a sought-after figure. Everyone will want you to be on their side, and they will offer very tempting things in return.”

Besides reviving Alice, which I don’t think anyone would be able to do, I really don’t know what I want deep down inside. I just want to relax and enjoy life while I have it.

Mandrake stands up from the chair and walks to the kitchen. He is still holding his cigar.

“I was going to offer you something to eat,” he says, “But this safe house hasn’t been restocked in a while.” He opens the fridge. “All we have is a couple of microwave dinners.”

I shake my head, and then turn to Sebastian. “What’s the fanciest restaurant in London?”

Sebastian seems to think for a moment. Then he smiles. “A restaurant opened not too long ago that serves conjured meals. They recently gained their third Michelin Star.” He puts his finger to his temple. “I think it was called ‘Conjuratus.’”

I grin. “Great,” I say. “Let’s take Mandrake there.”

Mandrake walks out of the kitchen. “So, do you want something to eat or not?” He looks between me and Sebastian. “What?”

“We’re going to take you out to eat,” I say.

“Well then!” says Mandrake. “I hope it’s somewhere not too expensive!”

“We’re heading to Conjuratus,” I say.

Mandrake’s eyes open wide. “I would love to,” he says. “Are you sure you want to be spending that kind of money on me?”

“You’re a silverbones,” I say. “Don’t you have a lot of money anyways?”

Mandrake shakes his head. “No. As a matter of fact, I make just enough money to live on.”

I am confused. With his power, he could be doing anything, making a ton of money.

Mandrake tilts his head. “I see you’re confused. It’s just a personal creed of mine. I’m very against the idea of wealth.” He shrugs. “But I can’t refuse the kindness of others, either.” He smiles. “Let’s go!”

Sebastian leads Mandrake and I through the building until we reach the street. Our limo is already pulled up next to the sidewalk. Sebastian opens the doors for Mandrake and me. I get in first.

Mandrake sits down.

I open the mini fridge. “Do you like alcohol?” I ask.

Mandrake raises an eyebrow. “What’s a minor like you doing with vintage whiskeys?”

“There’s also brandies and gin,” says Sebastian, from the front seat.

“I’ll take the gin,” says Mandrake. He grabs a bottle of gin and pours himself a glass. Glancing at me, he smiles. “Well, I suppose you need something to drink as well.”

I open the hidden fridge and pull out a diet root beer, popping it open with a snap.

Mandrake chuckles. “Diet root beer. Good choice, lad.”

Sebastian sighs from the front seat. Yeah, yeah. Diet root beer isn’t exactly suited for a rich young prince like me. Appearances and all that. I take a guilty sip of the beverage and set it down on the table with high edges.

Mandrake watches the cars beside us, not saying a word. I am left wondering what he is thinking.

“You haven’t told me directly,” I say, “But what’s the purpose of the Silverbones?”

“Immortality,” says Mandrake. “Or, at least, the search for it.” He sighs. “Plus a lot of other things. Look, lad. Don’t worry about what we do before you’ve made a decision.”

“But it’s obvious what I want to do,” I say. “I’m no bad guy.”

“So they all say,” says Mandrake. “I’m not counting on your presence until after the Darks contact you. We’ll see how moral you are after you’re presented with their offer.”

We pull into the parking lot of Conjuratus. It’s a fancy building in the London suburbs that is decorated as one would expect a high-class restaurant to look.

Sebastian opens the door for me, and I step out. Mandrake follows.

Sebastian bows. “I will not be accompanying you this time,” he says. He hands me a card. “Here is the method of payment.”

It looks like a simple debit card. I shrug and put it in my pocket.

“That’s a British Express Platinum, my boy,” says Mandrake. He seems genuinely impressed.

I take the card back out of my pocket and examine it. It doesn’t look that special to me. Sure, it’s shiny and has good build, but I would expect that of any payment plastic. I place it back in my pocket.

Mandrake chuckles, and then turns to the entrance of the restaurant. “This will be the first time I’ve eaten high-class conjured food,” he says.

We both step in. I am dressed sharply—it’s been a habit of mine ever since I realized I could—and, of course, Mandrake is wearing a black suit and fedora. We are dressed for the establishment.

A waiter approaches us.

“Reservation for Mr. Red, correct?” he says.

I nod.

“Right this way, gentlemen,” says the waiter. He leads us to a rather private table near the back of the establishment. I can catch a glimpse of the kitchen from here.

We both sit down. The waiter hands us our menus.

I read through it and decide to try the Duck Flambe.

“So, what are you going to have?” I say, to Mandrake.

“Just a steak,” says Mandrake. “I’m not very used to establishments like this.”

“Neither am I,” I say. “But I suppose at chances like this I have to try something brave.”

“That’s a good way to think about it,” says Mandrake, as he puts his menu down. He folds his hands and rests his elbows on the table.

“I have to ask,” he says. “Do you know where your money is coming from?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” I say. “I just accept the fact that the portal beings working for me aren’t causing too much trouble.”

“Hrm,” says Mandrake. “You also have your Rearden Metal, right?” he says.

I nod.

Mandrake crosses his arms. “It’s normal for any human who has absorbed a multi-thousand-year ring to manifest many special powers. Entrance to the Silverbones requires absorption of at least a five-thousand-year spirit,” he says. He taps his finger on the table. “I myself have acquired a twelve-thousand-year spirit. I was originally the owner of an organic compound manifestation. A certain polymer that doesn’t have an official name. I was assigned to be an adventurer because I could use the polymer to create shields.”

“So you’re a tank-class,” I say.

“Correct,” says Mandrake. “And I manifested a wide range of powers having to do with plastics and organic compounds. That metal sheet I showed you is actually an organometal.”

I whistle. “I should try making something like that.”

Mandrake chuckles. “I don’t doubt you could. Rearden Metal and my creation are in different classes, but both are strong.”

The waiter comes to the table and we order. After the waiter leaves, Mandrake folds his hands.

“So, you’re here in London for just another month, right?” Mandrake says.

I nod. “Just long enough to teach the conjurers Esmex hired to produce Rearden Metal.”

Mandrake sighs. “I don’t know if that will come to good or not, but it’s part of my personal creed to never profit from what I can produce.”

I shake my head. “I don’t really want to profit,” I say. “I just want to be useful to the world.”

“Well, that’s noble of you,” says Mandrake, with a small smile.

The waiter arrives with our dinners.

“That was quick!” says Mandrake, as the food is placed on the table.

The waiter gives a professional smile. “All our food is conjured in its final form by our head chef.”

I look at the beautiful duck roast in front of me. As the waiter leaves, I take a bite, making sure to adhere to the English etiquette I was taught not long ago.

There is a loud screech and a crash. A car comes barreling through the front of the restaurant and smashes the wall, sending tables and dishes flying.

A couple seconds of silence pass. The car doors open and a gigantic, beefy man with Schwarzenegger-class muscles steps out. He is holding a chaingun.

“Get down!” yells Mandrake, as he tips the table in the direction of the attacker. He forms a semi-clear barrier of organic material between us and the gunman.

The gun opens fire, sounding less like individual bullets and more like the tearing of a cosmic sheet of paper. Screams are everywhere. Broken dishes and tracer rounds fly all over the place. One of the restaurant goers seems to be an adventurer and tries to fight back. Before he can take out his weapon, he is turned into a fine red mist.

“Damn Ronald,” says Mandrake, as he crouches behind the table and his shield.

“Is that his name?” I say, as I watch the restaurant explode.

Hundreds of bullets are pinging against Mandrake’s shield.

Mandrake’s face is deadly serious. “Yes. He’s not someone you want to mess with.” He pauses. “Not that anyone in the Darks is to begin with.”

The chain gun is still firing. I’m pretty sure that, by now, everyone in the room is dead. And yet the gun keeps firing.

Finally, the chain gun stops. All that is left is the sound of it spinning, and then that stops.

Ronald takes a couple of steps towards us, shells clinking beneath his feet. He stops in the middle of the room.

“Come out, come out!” he says, with a thick German accent. His eyes lock on us. He grins. “We need to borrow little Markus for a moment,” he says. “If you don’t turn him over,” Ronald holds up a bomb detonator, “I will put a hole in this street. Many people will die!”

“You’ve already killed enough,” says Mandrake. “Why do you want to kill more?”

“Kill?” says Ronald. “I do not kill. I stomp. I crush. I flatten.” He turns the chain gun towards us. It begins to spin again.

Mandrake whispers to me. “If he directs the gun against my shield, I won’t be able to hold long.” He cringes. “I’m going to have to let you go. They won’t kill you or torture you. You’re too valuable.”

I shake my head. “I have an idea.” I reach into my personal dimension and find the stone golem boss from the S-class portal. It’s still there. When I see it in my mind’s eye, it stands up from a sitting position and kneels before me.

“Master,” it says.

I snap my fingers.

A white portal appears on the restaurant floor, covering several broken tables and dead bodies. The golem begins to rise from the ground. First its head, then its shoulders. When it is at its waist, it tears a hole in the ceiling. With two gigantic steps, it walks out of the portal and tramps towards Ronald.

“You bastard!” yells Ronald, as the golem picks him up in both hands.

“Guns don’t work against portal beings,” I say, grinning slightly.

Of course, my grin falls when I see the dead bodies being crushed underneath my golem’s feet.

It returns for a split second when the golem throws Ronald like a professional baseball pitcher and sends the killer flying over the city skyline. Then the golem bows to me, returns to the portal, and sinks back into the floor.

“That won’t kill him,” says Mandrake. “It will barely scratch him.” He sighs. “Now they’re probably going to punish you at some point. And they won’t be attacking you alone anymore. If you try the golem trick on Blastoid, you’ll end up with a cloud of steam and a pile of broken rocks.” Mandrake wipes his forehead with a handkerchief.

Police sirens wail in the distance.

“Well,” says Mandrake, “After the theft at the National Gallery, the news will have a lot of things to report today.” He turns to the dozens of dead bodies covering the restaurant floor. “Namaste,” he says, holding his hands together.

“Rest in peace,” I say, holding my own hands together.

It looks like the war has just begun.

The Lesser One Arc 2 Chapter 1: Dark and Bright

Dark and Bright

A month after my arrival in London for the CCC, I am about to bury my face in the sand and scream. The conjurers Crayton hired to produce Rearden Metal are nowhere near adhering to the schedule set before me. At this rate, two months will be nowhere near enough time to teach them how to create a single-crystal superalloy.

I am sitting on a couch in the lobby of the Esmex building. The people passing by me, wearing well-fitted business suits, give me a sense of peace that I like to enjoy. Soon my eyes close and I am asleep.

I stand in the middle of a labyrinth. The echoes of a girl crying reverberate through the empty halls. Strange, oscillating art pieces climb around on the walls. The walls themselves are made of wood, concrete, fence, steel wire, leaves, paper. There does not seem to be any coordination.

The crying sound grows louder.

Mother.

The name ricochets off the floor and dimly-lit ceiling. I do not know who is speaking, but the cries are full of a longing for that which is lost and can never be recovered.

I wake with a start. Someone is shaking me. It’s one of the bellboys who work in the building’s front.

“Mr. Blanche wants to see you,” he says.

I sit up. This is the first time in two weeks that he’s wanted to speak to me personally. Though he appeared fine at the party after the defeat of the S-class portal, since then he has slipped into a deep depression. Alice still hasn’t woken up from her coma. I know now that Crayton’s wife died, and Alice opened the portal because she was trying to resurrect her. Losing the only memory he has of his wife has really shaken Crayton up. Plus, you know, Alice is his daughter.

I take the elevator to the building’s penthouse. It’s been a while since I was up here.

When I open the door I am hit with a wave of putrid stench. Trash bags, TV dinner boxes, and dirty dishes are stacked in piles all around the living room. I make my way through the maze, trying to find the door to the bedroom.

“Mr. Blanche?” I say, as I pick through the mountains of filth.

There is a sound from the bedroom. I knock on the closed door.

“Come in,” says Crayton. His voice is almost too soft for me to hear.

I open the door. The bedroom is worse than the living room. At least two dozen takeout boxes are stacked on the bed. The floor is covered in spilled—what, soda? Drink? Some sort of dark liquid.

Crayton himself is sitting in a lounge chair, watching home videos of Alice and, I assume, her mother. He doesn’t turn to look at me.

“Mr. Blanche?” I say. “You wanted to see me?”

“You heard it, didn’t you?” says Crayton.

“What, sir?” I ask.

“Her voice,” says Crayton. “Alice’s voice.”

I think back to the dream that I had sitting on the couch. “I think so, sir,” I say.

“She was crying,” says Crayton. “She was calling for help.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do,” I say.

“Get your network to figure that out,” says Crayton. “I’ve hired the best doctors. The best healers. The best of anything. Nothing works. She’s still … Sleeping.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I say. “I care about your daughter as well.”

Crayton says nothing. Instead, he reaches towards the half-full twelve-pack of beer by his chair and pops it open. He takes a long draught.

“I’ll do what I can, sir,” I say.

Crayton wipes the foam from his mouth. “I wanted to ask you,” he says. “How is the work with Rearden Metal going?”

I cringe. “I’m sorry, sir,” I say. “I haven’t been able to produce good results.”

Crayton turns towards me, looking at me for the first time. “Well, we can’t help that, can we?” he says. Then he turns his face back towards the TV.

The TV is showing a birthday party. Alice looks to be about ten. Her mother is stunningly beautiful. The kind of beauty that Alice will probably become when she’s twenty-five. Her mother is smiling, laughing, and I can tell why Crayton isn’t over her.

It looks like it’s Alice’s birthday. She blows out the candles, and then is presented with a veritable mountain of presents. Expensive dresses, collectors’ dolls, and lots of chocolate.

I turn my gaze away from the TV.

“Sir,” I say to Crayton. “You need to clean up your penthouse.”

Crayton waves his hand dismissively. “Just call the maid.”

“Why hasn’t she been coming?” I ask.

Crayton says nothing, only takes another draught of beer.

After a long pause, the home video ends. Crayton looks at me. “Save her,” he says, “And I’ll reward you with whatever you want. I have money. I have artwork. I have anything you could ever desire. Just save her!”

I nod. “I’ll work on something,” I say. Of course I’ve been racking my brains too to see if I can come up with something to save her. I’ve asked my devils and the new workers I gained from the S-class portal and no one has any clue why Alice is still asleep. Nothing we can do can help her.

“Is it okay if I visit her today?” I ask.

“Go ahead,” says Crayton.

I bow, and then back out of the room. I leave the penthouse and ride the elevator to the ground floor. When I get there, I head to the receptionist’s desk.

“Mr. Blanche has requested a maid to clean his penthouse,” I say.

The receptionist looks visibly relieved. “How did you get him to agree to that? He’s been rejecting all entry to his penthouse for the past three weeks, besides the takeout boy.”

“Well, I convinced him somehow,” I say. Then I pause. “Do you have the address where Mr. Blanche’s daughter is being held?”

The receptionist nods. “We just received word a minute ago to give it to you. Hold on.”

I hold on. After thirty seconds of rummaging the receptionist hands me a piece of paper with the hospital and room number on it.

I take the paper and walk out of the building.

Sebastian, I call, through the magic phone line I keep on me. Come pick me up.

Five minutes later my limo arrives. Sebastian steps out and holds the door open for me.

“Master,” he says.

I step in, handing him the paper. “Take me to this hospital.”

The trip takes less than ten minutes. Almighty Mercy Hospital is a towering structure with at least ten floors and a huge footprint. Sebastian drops me at the entrance roundabout and I pat myself down to make sure I’m looking okay.

I ask the nurse at the front desk to point me to Alice’s room. Once I get the number and permission to visit, I take the elevator to the long-term care ward.

Alice’s room is in the middle of the hall. I knock gently on the door. There is no answer.

I open the door and step in. Alice is laying in the room’s bed, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling slowly. She is hooked up to an IV and a bunch of other equipment. This is the first time I’ve seen her since the portal opened.

I sit on a chair beside her bed, and take hold of her hand.

“You did it for your mother, didn’t you?” I say, not expecting a response. “I can understand that.”

Portals are dangerous things anyways. It’s not her fault that this S-class portal existed. If it wasn’t her, I’m sure someone would have opened it eventually.

Alice’s eyes flicker underneath her closed eyelids. She is clearly dreaming about something.

A couple of images flash past my eyes. Blood. A searing crash, glass shattering. Then the images go away.

Is she trying to tell me something?

Whatever it is, I can’t understand it. I spend five more minutes watching her eyes flicker and then stand up. “I was told to look for a cure for you,” I say. “I’m going to find it. You and your father will be back together.”

I have forgiven her for using me on that date three weeks ago. I know she did it because she wanted her mother back.

I leave the room and close the door behind me.

A man wearing a black suit and a fedora is leaning against the wall outside the hospital room.

“Are you ready to make a choice?” he says.

I shake my head. “Um, who are you?”

“Just an agent,” says the man. “Nothing important.”

I frown. “Am I ready to make a choice about what?” I ask.

“White or black,” says the man. “Make a decision soon.”

The world folds around in front of me and, with a shimmer, the man is gone.

I am left wondering what in the world he meant. Was I hallucinating?

Anything is possible in this brave new world.

I leave the hospital in worse spirits than when I arrived. Both the appearance of the strange man and Alice’s vision in my head have taken their toll on my mood. Sebastian is waiting for me next to my limousine.

“Have you been waiting long?” I ask him.

Sebastian shakes his head. “Not long at all,” he says. He opens the door for me and closes it after I get in.

Somewhere in the city, police sirens are wailing. A lot of them. Is something happening?

“What’s going on?” I ask, to Sebastian.

“There was a robbery at the National Gallery,” says Sebastian. “A portal artifact of great worth was stolen.”

I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This sounds a lot like what happened with the S-class portal.

Black and white. I have a feeling that this robbery is linked to what that man in a fedora told me.

A shadow falls over the limo. A body slams into the windshield, and Sebastian stops us with a violent motion. My neck is jerked forwards and backwards.

The man on the windshield is wearing a white tee shirt and jeans. The windshield, being bulletproof, hasn’t cracked.

Sebastian pulls the car to the side of the road and gets out.

I am about to step out as well when Sebastian puts his hand out.

“It’s dangerous, master,” he says.

I stay in the limo.

The man’s body begins flashing like a Mario Kart bomb. I flinch.

The body explodes with a cartoonish blast of red and yellow. The limo’s airbags expand, and the window is blown off. A white, tingling powder floats through the air and coats my body. I am left coughing, feeling as if I’ve swallowed a mouthful of dirt.

Confetti fills the limo’s interior. I pick up a piece of it. It’s got a smley-face emoji and the words “Hi! I’m Generica!” written on it.

I let the confetti fall to the ground.

Sebastian opens the limousine door, clearly flustered. “I’m sorry, master!” he says. “I failed!”

I shake my head, still trying to spit out the taste of dust. “No, it wasn’t your fault.” I pick up a piece of the confetti. “Do you know who Generica is?”

Sebastian’s face turns white. “Master, were did you learn that name?”

I hand him the piece of confetti.

Sebastian shakes his head. “That is not someone you would be wise to interact with.” He crumples the confetti in his hand. “I would suggest you forget this name immediately.”

“Am I in danger?” I ask.

“Not with your loyal servants around,” says Sebastian. “We will keep you away from this … Individual.”

I look at where the body hit the windshield. “Was that an actual person?” I ask.

Some of the people who had been walking by when the body fell have stopped and are staring at us. There is a bloodstain on the concrete, but no body, and a whole bunch of confetti.

“Someone call the police,” I say. “I think someone committed suicide.”

There is a hushed wave of whispers among the bystanders.

I catch sight of the same man in a fedora who greeted me at the hospital. Before I can call out, he slips into an alleyway.

“Excuse me for a moment,” I say to Sebastian, as I push through the crowd to get to the alley.

“Wait, master!” says Sebastian. “Don’t follow him!”

But I am in the alleyway before Sebastian can push through the crowd.

The man in the fedora is sitting in a fire escape, looking down at me.

Sebastian stops behind me. “Master,” he says. “Who is this?”

The man in the fedora tips his hat. “Mandrake Sommelio. Member of the Bright Silverbones.”

Sebastian’s face goes ghastly pale. “Silverbones?” he says.

I shake my head, holding out my arm in front of Sebastian. “Let’s hear what he has to say,” I say.

Several police cars pull up next to where the man fell. Sebastian looks back. “I’m having some other operatives deal with the police,” he says. He turns to me. “If you want to follow this man somewhere where we can converse, I would not stop you.”

The man in the fedora drops down from the fire escape. He brushes off his suit. “Well then. Since you seem to be cooperating, I’ll lead you to a special place.”

Mandrake begins walking backwards through the alley, both his hands on his suit.

Sebastian and I follow him. We go through the alley until we come through the other side. Mandrake leads us to a small, run-down tenement along a busy side street. We go up a thin Victorian-era staircase and enter a tiny little apartment with just three rooms. The living room is meticulous, with a couch, a recliner, and an old television.

Mandrake sits on the arm of the recliner, holding his hands together. He snaps his finger and a soft bubble expands, covering the room’s walls.

“This is a safe house,” says Mandrake. He pulls a bottle of wine, which appears to be a lever. Two of the apartment’s walls turn over to reveal a smorgasbord of adventuring weapons. “I’d suggest you keep this place in the back of your minds as you go forwards. The Darks are after you. They’ll give you an offer that you can’t refuse. I want to make you an offer first, before they do.” He taps his fingers on the coffee table next to the chair. “There’s not much that material wealth will do for you,” says Mandrake. “And we don’t have anything else of worth that we can give you. If you do decide to side with the Brights, your only reward will be your conscience. That is our offer to you.”

A flash of a moaning wail echoes through my head. I again see, slightly, the maze that I dreamed of earlier. Then my mind snaps back to reality.

Mandrake appears troubled. “You hear it too?” he says. “The disturbance in the ether?”

“I do,” I say.

Mandrake nods. “I see you are an anima spirit.”

“It’s been a while since someone has called it that,” I say, “But yes.”

“And with your considerable and varied powers, you are choosing to masquerade as a conjurer?” says Mandrake.

“Um, yeah,” I say. “I guess I can’t fool you.”

“You can’t,” says Mandrake. “I’ve done my research.”

“Do you know anything about Generica?” I ask.

“She’s a real bad Dark One,” says Mandrake. “Has a nasty habit of blowing people up. Filling them with all kinds of things. Worms, and razor blades, and burning embers. Very painful.”

I cringe. “So the Darks are the bad guys,” I say.

“I suppose you could call it that,” says Mandrake. “But, at the same time, they do provide for their own. And they are willing to do things that we Brights are not.”

“Well, it’s obvious who I’d choose,” I say.

Mandrake shakes his head. “That’s what everyone but the most psychopathic say before they join the Darks.”

I am troubled. “So they’ll offer me something I can’t refuse,” I say.

“At the very least, something that you will have a hard time rejecting,” says Mandrake. “There’s a nasty bugger, Elina is her name, she can tell what anyone wants most, deep down in the depths of their soul.” Mandrake turns around, pointing to the rack of weapons. “I suppose you wouldn’t need any of these weapons, considering your ability to conjure anything you can imagine.” He sighs. “We’re all powerful here. There are six Brights and eleven Darks in this world. All of them are converging on London because of you.”

“And together you constitute the Silverbones?” I say.

Mandrake snorts. “I suppose so,” he says. Then he looks longingly through the window. “I suppose so.”

The windows shatters, a bullet flies through the room, and Mandrake catches it between two fingers. He examines it, and whistles.

“Well, the game has started then!” he says.

Binary Seven Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

The morning sun rose over Aldon's farm, highlighting the Kilvar mountains in the far distance, bringing with it the first rays of warmth to start the day. Aldon prepared to enter town in the main room of his hut, bringing with him a backpack full of the things he thought he might need. Botone stood next to him, watching. When he was done packing, she put her hands on her hips.

"Are we ready?" she asked.

Aldon nodded. "We're ready. Let's go."

The two of them left the hut and stepped outside, entering the road off of a small mud trail that led to Aldon's hut. The sun shone down bright on Aldon's shoulders, and a soft breeze blew in from the west. Botone walked beside him, her hair tossing in the light wind. The town of Gulvier appeared over the horizon, a small collection of brick and thatch buildings that hedged the Talmar river on both ends, with a crossing at the center. The inn rose a slight bit above the roofs of the rest of the houses, and Aldon made for it, walking through the town's main street. It was market day, and lots of people were about, selling their goods in stalls. Normally, Aldon would be with them, but he hadn't had much of a surplus of vegetables ever since Botone had started eating them all. He dodged out of the way of a mule and its owner, pulling Botone with him. Botone turned to inspect the beast as it passed by, her face full of curiosity.

Aldon stopped in front of the door to the inn, and faced Botone. "When we go in, let me do the talking," he said. "If anyone asks, you're the mother of the baby that I found a while back. The baby died, and you came back for it."

"Why the story?" Botone asked.

Aldon tapped his foot against the ground. "Because people might be curious when a strange woman shows up in the middle of the inn with me."

Botone nodded, and looked at the doors to the inn. She placed her hand against the door handle, and pushed. The doors swung open, and she stepped inside. Aldon followed her. The room smelled of thick smoke like always, and was filled with the working men and woman of the town. They hunkered down around their tables, nursing tall drinks and chatting amongst themselves. No one noticed Aldon and Botone enter. Aldon walked up to the counter at the end of the room and made eye contact with Mother Gresha. Mother Gresha glanced at Botone before coming over to where Aldon took a seat. She had a glass in her hand that she polished with a thick white rag. She glanced at Botone again before speaking.

"I haven't seen you around here for a while," she said. "What happened?"

Aldon shrugged. "Things did. I have a question for you."

"Sure," Gresha said. "What is it?" She turned behind herself and began to fill a tall glass with cider. A customer at the other end of the table waved at her. Aldon waited until she had finished serving the customer, then asked his question.

"Do you know of anyone that might know a lot about strange happenings?"

Mother Gresha leaned in on one elbow conspiratorially. "What kind of strange happenings?" she asked.

Aldon looked around the room before speaking. "Strange as in shape shifters."

"Shape shifters? Why the sudden interest?" Mother Gresha glanced at Botone in that moment.

Botone looked up. "I saw a shape shifter once," she said, confidently.

"And who are you?" asked Mother Gresha.

"Just a friend," said Botone.

"A friend, eh?" said Mother Gresha, winking once at Aldon.

Aldon shrugged, shooting a glance at Botone. Botone simply smiled. Aldon leaned in closer over the bar. "Well, do you know anybody?" he asked.

Mother Gresha played with her chin for a moment, and then put her hand down on the countertop. She let out a heavy breath. "I think I do, as a matter of fact. His name's Gerund, and he lives in the town of Burr, a while east from here."

"All right, thank you," said Aldon, getting up from his seat. "That's all I have to know."

Mother Gresha sighed, then pointed at a pair of black-robed men in the corner of the room. "I'm sorry, Aldon. They wanted me to watch for you, and they told me you would ask exactly what you did."

"Who's they?" asked Aldon. He looked at the pair of black-robed men. The men watched him with fiery eyes, their unshaven beards hanging out of their hoods. They stood up in unison and walked over to the bar. One of them took out a long crystal dagger and pointed it at Aldon.

"Why don't you come with us now," he said, his accent smooth and unmovable.

Aldon leaned back against the counter. "What's this for?" he asked. "What did I do wrong?"

The black robed man chuckled, and brought the dagger closer to Aldon's throat. "Oh, you did everything wrong, my friend."

Botone lashed out with her arm and pushed the dagger away from Aldon's throat. In that same instant the other black-robed man whipped out a short sword and slashed at Botone's arm. It separated cleanly, and then reformed back onto her body. The man let out a shout, and dove for Botone, trying to pin her beneath his weight. Botone kicked the man away, and grabbed Aldon's arm, pulling him towards the center of the room. Aldon stumbled over the foot of one of the patrons of the inn, hitting his head on a candlestick and bruising his knuckles on a table. The two black-robed men chased after him, bowling through the inn in their haste to get to him. Botone pulled Aldon towards the door, and then pushed him through. The two black-robed men jumped through the door after him, and the chase went through the crowded market street at the center of the town. Aldon dodged around a cart, and underneath an awning, Botone by his side. The two black-robed men pushed their way through the crowd with their weapons held outwards.

Aldon grabbed Botone's arm and pulled her down a side street, out of the view of the black robed men. He was too late to escape them, though, and they turned down the side street as well in hot pursuit. Aldon turned his head to Botone for a short moment as he ran.

"Can't you do something?" he asked.

Botone nodded quickly, and grabbed Aldon's arm fast. Her entire body turned grey for a moment, and then flowed together over Aldon's wrist and up his arm and over his shoulder to form a suit of hard black armor over his entire body. A sword jumped out of the gauntlet that formed itself around Aldon's fingers and flowed into his palm, where it hardened into a pure white crystal sword. Aldon staggered beneath the all of the extra weight that was put on him by the suit of armor, and leaned against a wall.

"Thanks, Botone," he said, turning to face the two robed men. The robed men rushed towards him with their swords up and out, ready to slice him to pieces. Aldon swung hard at one of the men with his sword as he rushed up, but missed, because the robed man ducked underneath his blade. Aldon reeled from the momentum of his swing, crashing into the side of the street and upturning a bucket of waste water. Soaking wet, he pushed himself up just in time to catch a swinging blade with the armor plating on his wrist. The street they fought in was deserted, closed up cramp between the backs of two rows of houses. The sounds of the market echoed over the roofs all around.

The two robed men took up stances around Aldon, with their swords out, ready to strike. Aldon swung his crystal sword, but the men merely sidestepped it. He knew then that he was totally outclassed. He began to look around for another way out of the situation. His eyes fell upon the buckets of wastewater beside the one that he had knocked over. He glanced at the robed men, who were about to strike, and tossed his sword at them. They flinched, and in that moment Aldon grabbed the bucket of wastewater and flung it over their faces.

"Botone!" he called out. "Give me another sword!"

The armor around his palm tingled, and a crystal sword sprouted from his hands, smaller and less lovely than the last one. But it was still a sword. Aldon sliced down with it in an awkward motion, that was still enough to catch one of the robed men in the neck. Aldon was surprised when his sword clanked up against hard shell, and barely went in, instead grazing off the side. He looked around quick, and then darted off in the opposite direction from the robed men. They yelled at him, and began to give chase again.

This time, while running, Aldon's legs felt invigorated, and he was able to outpace the two robed men, even with the heavy armor that he was wearing. He thought it might be because Botone was sharing her strength with him. He turned out of the deserted alleyway and into the crowded market street, where sellers hawked their wares out of carts and stalls that lined the buildings on either side.

Behind him, the robed men slowed down, and then stopped beside a cabbage stall. Aldon took the moment to lose them in the crowd, and traveled as far away from them as he could within the small village. Botone spoke to him, her voice echoing out of the armor plates that Aldon wore.

"Find somewhere where I can get out of this form," she said.

Aldon obliged, and found a spot between two buildings where nobody was looking. Botone slid off of Aldon's body and reconstituted in her human form beside him, shaking her copper colored hair and looking out at the street. Her body solidified and she looked at Aldon.

"Do you know who those people were?" she asked.

Aldon shook his head. "No idea," he said. "They must be after you."

Botone nodded. "I think so. Do you have any idea why they stopped?"

Aldon shrugged. "No. No idea at all."

"Maybe it was all the people around," Botone said.

Aldon peeked out at the crowds that passed by the opening. "That's probably it," he said.

Botone crossed her arms. "How are we going to get to the town of Burr now?" she asked.

"We'll just have to leave before they do."

"They know where we're going," Botone said. "All they would have to do is ask Mother Gresha. No doubt she'd tell them."

Aldon sighed. "I'm sure Mother Gresha didn't mean anything by what she did," he said. "She's always been a good friend of her patrons. I can't imagine she'd set those men on us."

"If you say so," Botone said.

Aldon looked once more out at the street. "Are you certain that you want to go on this journey?" he asked.

Botone nodded her head vigorously. "Yes. Definitely. Now that we have a lead, there's no time to waste. We have to get to Gerund so that he can tell us about me."

Aldon leaned against a wall. "I don't see how we can do that, knowing that there are two crazy guys out to get us. How do you think we'll be able to escape them?"

Botone smiled. "You can leave it to me." She leaned out from the alley and looked both ways down the street. After a moment she looked back at Aldon.

"I see them," she said. "Just over there, standing next to a pair of stalls."

"What are they doing?" Aldon asked.

"Just standing there, I think," Botone said. "I'm not exactly sure what they're doing."

"What are we going to do now?" asked Aldon.

Botone held up one arm, and it turned into grey matter that flowed freely through the air. "It's easy," she said. "I have a plan." Her arm coalesced into a sharp blade made of crystal that shone brightly in the sun. She swept it through the air. "I'll take them down."

Aldon looked for a moment at Botone, judging her chances of winning against the two black-robed men. "I don't know," he said. "That doesn't sound like a good idea to me."

Botone's arm shimmered, and turned back into its regular form. "Then what do we do now?" she asked.

Aldon shook his head. "I told you already, I don't know." He peered out from the window and at the street, looking both ways for the two black-robed men. He paused, when he didn't see either of them. "Are you sure you saw them?" he asked.

Botone nodded her head. "Yes, I'm sure," she said. "They were right between the stalls."

Aldon looked between the two stalls, and saw no one. "I think they left."

"Maybe they're searching somewhere else for us," Botone said.

Aldon sat back against the wall, in the dirt of the alleyway. "Well, our best choice now is just to wait them out," he said.

They waited in the alleyway for what seemed like an eternity, switching between observers and keeping a constant lookout outside. When the sun was about to set over the horizon, a figure approached them from the street. It was a thin man, angular in construction, with a wispy beard on his chin. His eyes spoke of a soft intelligence, and a determination that showed itself only rarely. He wore a leather jacket and canvas leggings.

"Are you Aldon?" he asked, pointing his finger.

Aldon nodded. "I am. Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter," said the man. "I have a message for you from Mother Gresha. She says that the black robed men are gone now, they left the town this afternoon. She told me that I could find you here."

"How did she know?" Botone asked.

The man shrugged. "Lucy guess, I suppose. You never know, with Mother Gresha."

Aldon stepped out of the alleyway, followed by Botone. The man led them through the street, and towards the inn in the center of the village. By now the market stalls were closing up for the day, and people were beginning to go home. Aldon searched for the two black-robed men out of the corner of his vision, still not trusting the lanky man's promise. When they reached the inn, Mother Gresha was waiting for them outside the door. She had her hands on her hips and an apologetic expression on her face. When she met with Aldon, she ushered him inside. Botone followed.

Mother Gresha tossed up her hands. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought those men just wanted to ask you some questions. If I had known that they would have been like that . . . they tore up my store, and were terrible about it to me. I don't know who they were or where they came from, but I don't like them.

"Don’t worry, Mother Gresha," said Botone. "We don't like them either."

Mother Gresha put her hand on her forehead as she walked behind the bar at the end of the room. "Why don't you two have a pair of drinks on the house. It's the least I can do for you."

Botone sat down on a stool in front of the counter and smiled. "Thank you."

Aldon sat down next to Botone, and grabbed hold of the thick wooden tankard that Mother Gresha slid his way. He put it to his lips and took a deep swig of the bitter, mellow liquid inside. It was cool and refreshing, especially after a day spent running and hiding.

"I guess we'll have to leave tomorrow," Aldon said, looking around the room. "I was hoping to get our supply shopping done today, when everyone was here for the market."

Botone shrugged. "It's okay. Tomorrow is just as good as today."

Mother Gresha leaned over the counter with a wide smile on her face. "You two are leaving on a journey together?" she asked. "Are you two eloping?"

Aldon shook his head politely. "No, we're just going to see the world together."

Mother Gresha winked. "That sounds like eloping to me. Say, whatever happened to that baby that you found a while back?"

Aldon forced his face to fall an appropriate amount. "It died," he said. "You were right. I couldn't take care of it."

Mother Gresha wiped the corner of her eye and sniffed. "I lost one myself, a while back. You don't know how it feels until it happens. Lucy for me, I have George to cheer me up. He's been a fine son." She pointed to the lanky man that had brought Aldon and Botone the message.

Aldon looked the man up and down. "He's your son?" he asked.

Mother Gresha nodded. "Yep. Best son that a mother could have ever wanted."

Botone finished her tankard of ale and put it down on the counter, and then put her chin in her hands, leaning on the bar. She looked up at the ceiling. Aldon looked at her. "What's troubling you?" he asked.

Botone looked around the room, and then at Aldon. She shook her head. "Let's talk about it when we get home, okay?" she said.

Aldon nodded. "Sure thing. Let's go home now, as a matter of fact." He turned to Mother Gresha. "Thank you for your hospitality. We'll be coming back tomorrow in order to prepare for our journey."

Mother Gresha waved as Aldon and Botone got up from their seats. "I'll see you then," she said, her voice carrying over the inside off the room.

Aldon and Botone left the inn, and stepped into a dark street lit by the town's one streetlamp, right in front of the inn. Aldon took Botone down the road to his house, out of the outskirts of the village. Botone craned her neck up as she walked.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," she said, her voice lost in the blackness of the sky.

Aldon looked up at the stars. It was true, they certainly were beautiful tonight.

"I wonder what's up there," Botone said.

Aldon shrugged. "There probably isn't anything there at all. I think it's just a trick played by whoever created the world to get us to enjoy the night."

Botone shook her head. "No, I think there's something there."

Aldon's hut appeared on the horizon as a low shadow, that got bigger the closer Aldon and Botone walked. When they got to the porch step, Aldon paused.

"You'll have to tell me what you were thinking about now," he said.

Botone sat down in one of the two chairs in front of the porch wall. She looked up at Aldon. "Better now than never," she said.

Aldon sat down in the chair beside her. He relaxed into his seat and enjoyed the feeling of the cool night air on his skin. He let a small time pass, in which nothing was said between him and Botone. Botone looked at her hands, and they shimmered a slight bit. She put them down in her lap.

"I don't know what I was made for," she said, finally.

Aldon let the phrase float in the air for a moment. "It doesn't matter what you were made for," he said, "If someone made you at all."

"What do you mean?" Botone asked.

Aldon looked up at the stars, and gave a long sigh. "What happened today proved it to me. You're human, just like me. That's all I need to know about you. Past that, it's your own choice."

Botone looked at Aldon. "Thank you, Aldon," she said. "But that doesn't change the fact that I feel like I was made to do something, and I know that I'm not doing that thing."

Aldon leaned back in his chair. "That's what we're going to go on a journey for, right?" he said. "We're going to find out more about you, from this Gerund fellow in the town of Burr."

Botone smiled. "That's true. There was another thing I wanted to talk to you about."

"What is it?"

"When we combined, during the chase, it gave me an idea."

"What are you saying, combined? I thought you just became a suit of armor for me."

"No, it was more than that. I could feel a deeper connection with you. I think it's special."

"So why are you telling me this?"

Botone shifted in her seat. "I'm telling you this because I want to find out more about it. It felt good, and I think it confused our enemies. Since I don't doubt that we'll be facing them again, I want to take hold of this thing that we can do and use it to our advantage."

"So you think it's me?"

"It's definitely you," Botone said. "Something about the way you think, and how you're important to me, allowed me to find a connection with you that went deep."

"How do you suggest we approach this, then?" Aldon said.

Botone shrugged. "I don't know. Why don’t we start with a combining, like we did before?"

"Now?" asked Aldon.

Botone nodded. "Now is a good time." She stood up out of her chair and held her arm towards Aldon.

Aldon got up out of his chair and grasped Botone’s arm. Botone's body shimmered, then changed into grey matter that flowed up around Aldon's wrist and around his shoulder, covering his torso and his legs. The material hardened into a black shell that left enough room for Aldon to maneuver, but not very well. Aldon flexed his arm and looked at the covering on his shoulder.

"I think it would be best if you put a little less pressure here," he said.

"Right," Botone said, and Aldon could feel the pressing release. He tried moving his arm, and found that it maneuvered better, but not perfect.

"Try loosening it up right here," he said, pointing to a spot just above his shoulder. The pressure changed, and he found that he could move his arm even better. He swung it up, and it came through with enough momentum to put him off balance. He staggered and placed his hand against the wall to steady himself.

Botone spoke, her voice resonating through the plates that covered Aldon's body. "How does it feel?" she asked.

Aldon moved around for a bit more inside of the suit, listening to the noise that it made when he moved. "It works fine, I think," he said, "though it definitely could be improved."

The armor shimmered, and flowed off of Aldon's body and back into Botone's human form. She smiled. "I'll keep that in mind, plus the things that you told me."

Aldon rubbed his shoulder and sat back down in his chair. "Right," he said. "You do that."

The two sat beside each other and watched the stars for a while longer, and then turned in for the night. The next morning, Aldon got up early to pack the things that he thought he would need to bring for the journey, again. He placed his cooking utensils, his knife, and a few other odd ends in his backpack, and then strapped it closed and slung it on his shoulders. He called to Botone to wake up, walking back into the room and looking at her sprawled out on her straw bed.

Botone shifted underneath her horse hair blanket, and murmured to herself. Aldon clapped his hands together.

"Come on, wake up! It's time to go on that journey!"

Botone got up from her bed, her hair a tangled mess. She played with it absentmindedly for a moment, and then straightened it out by turning it into grey matter for an instant and then forming it back the way she wanted it. She looked up at Aldon.

"Sure," she said. "Let's go."

The two of them left the hut and headed for the village, and the beginning of their journey.