“She never loved you, she said,” the boy said.
“Yeah. Loving her was my second biggest mistake, after making you.”
He could see the shock on the boy’s face.
For an instant, he thought the boy would pull the trigger.
Then he saw the cold take hold in the boy’s eyes.
“I’m going to shoot you,” the boy said.
“You keep saying it, but you haven’t done it.”
“After,” the boy said. “First… I want the books.”
The man shrugged. “I can’t stop you from taking them.”
“Show me where they are.”
The man lurched, then stood.
The books were in the simplest of hiding places. On top of the bookshelf.
Drunk, he threw the books down rather than hand them over. He slumped over.
The boy, still holding the gun up with one shaking hand, grabbed at a book.
The moment that hand touched book was marked by the sound of a shutting door.
The boy turned.
A man in a white coat, with cold eyes, and two figures in chains trailing behind him.
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry,” the boy’s father said. Tears welled and streamed down his face. “You should have pulled the trigger. I deserved no less.”
“You’ve done your duty, Joseph,” Conquest said.
“Please,” the drunk man said. “Please.”
“Your son’s name?”
“Matthew,” Matthew said.
“Matthew,” Conquest said, noting it.
“What’s going on?” Matthew asked.
“I’m so sorry, my son,” Joseph said. “I… I thought you’d run away, out of his reach. That you’d hate me enough to kill me. I left the guns in reach… none of what I said, I didn’t mean it. The disappointment I felt was in myself. I made myself laugh when I killed Red…”
The boy’s eyes widened with each statement.
“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, my son. It was the only way out that I saw for you. The only path.”
Conquest intoned the words, “Matthew Attwell, as I bound your father, I bind you. By your forsaken blood, you are bent to my will, your well-being is purely at my behest…”
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done, and I’m sorry I pushed you as far as I did. I’m sorry I didn’t push you far enough.”
“You will serve me unto the end of your days, Matthew,” Conquest said.
■
“A riddle, if you will,” Matthew said.
“Turning the tables?” Isadora asked.
Matthew smiled. He was tall, pale blond, with round glasses and a tweed jacket.
“You’re looking at turning the tables,” the sphinx said, making it a statement.
“Is there an escape from my current circumstance?”
“If I told you, you would be compelled to fight against it.”
“If it were direct enough, yes.”
“I would also earn the enmity of Conquest himself.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Bad enough. My kind is few enough, without getting ourselves killed.”
“Fair. Is there an answer?”
“There are several,” Isadora said.
“That’s good to know,” Matthew said. “Is the answer obtainable?”
“Yes. But not in your lifetime.”
“No?”
“No. You’ve studied this a great deal. Approached it as a puzzle. I respect that.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said.
“You tried the logical, you also tried more free answers.”
“Hm. Not sure what you’re referring to.”
“Your wife.”
“She’s a lovely woman.”
“She’s unfaithful.”
A wide smile broke across Matthew’s face.
“You chose her because you knew she would be unfaithful.”
“She’s a brilliant person. She must have figured out what I was going for.”
“You looked for these qualities in her.”
“She’ll teach my children well. Well, ‘my’ children, even if they aren’t my blood. Enchantment works well with illusion. Maybe that’s what we need, in terms of different approaches.”
“You’ve defined yourself by those games, by these studies,” Isadora said.
“Books and deception. An illusionist’s prerogative. An Enchanter’s too, now that I think about it.”
“What good is misdirection if your subject finds their direction a moment later? Don’t answer that. Rhetorical question.”
“Fair question.”
“I don’t have many of those. A boxer who only feints achieves nothing, Matthew. You must feint and then deliver the blow. If only to have scored the points when the round ends. Fail to deliver that hit, and your opponent very well might.”
“Conquest will?”
“Your opponent isn’t Conquest, Matthew. It’s fate.”
“Ah. Fate’s something of a bitch, isn’t it?” Matthew smiled.
“A young girl is born in Egypt. The odds are good that she will be mutilated and sewn up. A child born in Africa may spend their life in poverty, starving, if they are unlucky enough to be born in the wrong region. Another child might be born with a disability.”
“And members of my bloodline are doomed to be slaves to a greater power. Fate deals a harsh hand.”
“Yes,” Isadora said.
“But a child born to poverty can fight their way to success. A disabled child can overcome their limitations,” Matthew said.
“An uphill battle. For every one that succeeds, there are many more who simply live with the hand that life dealt them.”
“That shouldn’t stop them, or me, from striving for that success all the same.”
Isadora frowned.
“What?” Matthew asked.
“I’m sorry, Matthew.”
“Sorry?”
“Your wife is unfaithful, Matthew, but the children she bears will be yours. They’ll be Conquest’s, too. Your struggles to date have been fruitless.”
The smile fell from Matthew’s face.
“I’m sorry.”
“Damn,” he said. “Damn, damn, damn!”
Isadora waited patiently.
“Damn!” Matthew shouted. He kicked the chair to his right.