“… We might be able to find a way into their testing facility,” Marasi said. “I did something similar to locate that cavern under Elendel.”
“I remember when all this started to hit me,” Moonlight said softly. “When my world expanded, and my personal squabbles — even the ones that influenced the fates of empires — suddenly became so small. You’re doing remarkably well.”
“My life,” Marasi said, “has mostly been expanses of quiet humdrum punctuated by sudden explosions — usually literal ones — of activity. I’m used to working under pressure.”
“And dealing with gods?” Moonlight said. “Fighting their influence?”
“Well, we have one on our own side, after all.”
“Kind of,” Moonlight said. “Harmony isn’t terribly reliable these days. At least not in the ways my mentor would prefer. It’s less like having a god on your side — and more like having a powerful referee who only sometimes pays attention to your fight.”
“Or an observer,” Marasi said, “who you’re sure could do more to help, but doesn’t for some baffling reason.”
“Yes, like…” Moonlight narrowed her eyes. “Point made. Here, we’re approaching the safehouse. Hopefully the Survivor hasn’t returned unexpectedly. My mentor isn’t always reasonable when it comes to people he sees as Harmony’s agents, and might respond … poorly.”
37
Wayne had read a real interesting book once about a fellow what went back in time. It had happened because he’d turned on too many electric switches at once. That was ridiculous, but the book had been written when electricity had been new — so it was forgivable. People had thought some funny stuff about electricity back then. Wayne himself had tried to fill a bucket with it once.
He found himself thinking of that story as he scoured the nearby alleys for signs of the Set’s agents. See, the book had been all about how changing the past was this dangerous thing. The fellow in it had broken some branches off a tree, and when he’d returned to the future, his father had liked eating butter on his sandwiches instead of mayo. Also, sapient lions had ruled the city.
Wayne had thought there was something … off about the story. When he’d mentioned it to friends, Nod had told him of another one with the same idea, where a fellow was sent back in time through the intricacies of indoor plumbing and an unfortunately large flush. And he had changed things by eating a bagel, then returned to discover that everybody spoke backward and no one wore shirts anymore.
This book had been better than the first one on account of it having more cussing — plus the no-shirts part being universally applied and very descriptively relayed — but still, Wayne found the idea uncomfortable.
He traded a beggar — unbeknownst to the fellow — a stack of cash for a dirty handkerchief; Wayne liked it on account of it havin’ a little bunny sewn in the corner. He was starting to figure out why those stories bothered him. They had this sense that changing the future was frightening and dangerous.
But didn’t people change it every day?
Wayne wondered regarding the choices people made. Rushing through their lives eating bagels, breaking twigs. Each of them changing the future. Shouldn’t they all … worry about that a little more? Worry how they were changing the future right now, rather than writing books about people doing it in the past? Even if they couldn’t know some things, there was a lot they could anticipate. They might not make that future have talking lions or whatnot — but they might make it have angrier, sadder people.
Maybe stories about fellows quietly making the world better were just too dull. Sounded boring, actually. Maybe if the people in them wore no shirts …
A hand wrapped around Wayne’s mouth from behind. He almost killed the fellow — but it smelled like Wax, so …
Yup, it was Wax. The man eased Wayne back into an alleyway, then pulled him down beside some rubbish as someone passed on the street. Telsin, searching around, annoyed.
After she was gone, Wax removed his hand.
“You let her go?” Wayne whispered.
“Call me crazy—”
“You’re crazy.”
“—but it feels more like I escaped.” Wax nodded his head in the other direction and they snuck away.
“I have to say,” Wayne muttered, “that there are better methods of gettin’ my attention. You’re not supposed to take friends captive, Wax, unless it involves a safeword and stretchy ropes.”
“Stretchy ropes?”
“More fun if you can move a little,” Wayne said. “I got to test them, since I had to be the one getting tied up. You know, on account of the fact that my girlfriend could turn into a puddle of jelly on command. Kind of undermines the point of bondage.”
Wax groaned softly as they slipped out onto the street. “I did not need to know any of that, Wayne. Could you maybe avoid being crass on the missions Harmony specifically sent us on?”
“Hey now,” Wayne said. “That’s not crass. MeLaan is a divine being. Chosen by Harmony. I figure, dating her was basically like going to church, you know?”
“And the stretchy ropes?”
“A, uh, metaphor for us all being bound by God’s will?”
They shared a look, then Wax actually grinned as he shook his head. Good. Guy was too uptight these days, what with parenthood, bein’ a senator, and having to save the whole damn city now and then.
Hoid pulled up in the car to get them, per Wayne’s earlier request — but Telsin was still lurking around. So Wax and Wayne slipped out another way and entered a busy street of bustling people. Full of Bilming idiots what had no idea how difficult they was making life. Though he supposed that was too much of a generalization. There were plenty of people in Bilming that weren’t idiots — they came from out of town to gawk at all the idiots.
“Did you get a lead out of Telsin?” Wayne asked as they blended into the crowd.
“Maybe,” Wax said.
“Well, I’ve definitely got a lead.”
“You do? Thank Harmony.”
“Yup. There’s a shining good pub three streets over. Two different bums swore by it.”
Wayne earned a real good glare out of that one. Made him feel all proud of himself. Smiles, then glares, then smiles, then glares. They pulled at a person like taffy, keeping them limber.
“I had to get away from Telsin,” Wax said. “I’m sure she was stalling, trying to keep me occupied.”
“Seems like she’s worried we can stop her.”
“Agreed. Which is encouraging. But I won’t get anything useful from her. Not in time. We need someone else to interrogate, and she gave me a lead: I think the lord mayor deserves a visit.”
“Here now,” Wayne said. “Now that’s an idea.”
They stopped on the street, people giving them a wide berth. The folks here seemed to dress with a lot more variety than in Elendel, but nobody wore guns. Wax stood out like a big ol’ wart on a fellow’s face. The type that you really wanted to pop to see what oozed out.
“We don’t exactly blend in, do we?” Wax said.
“Mate, you’re wearing a rusting mistcoat.”
“They’re comfy.”
“They draw attention.”
“You like attention!”
“Depends on who’s looking.” He eyed Wax. “Never have figured out how to go up stairs in one of those things without tripping over my own feet.”
“I’ve never had any trouble.”
Figured. Mistcoats appeared like a regular piece of clothing, but Wayne was sure they was secretly something else. Made of mist or such — and since Harmony liked Wax, the coat didn’t trip him.