Hermes looked up at me, then reached across and touched his nose to my left hand. I glanced at him and smiled, then scratched his head. We sat there for a while under the stars.
I slept badly that night. Strange currents tugged at my dreams, making me twist and turn. I felt as though a voice was calling to me, but every time I’d start half-awake and listen, I’d hear only silence.
It felt as though someone was seeking me in Elsewhere. I slipped into a dreamshard and extended my awareness, searching for the brush of another consciousness against mine. I waited like that for a long time, but nothing came. I was alone.
At last I gave up and slipped back into normal sleep. The voices didn’t come again.
4
I woke next morning to the sun streaming through my window. I lay on my futon for a little while, listening to the birdsong, then sat up and looked down at my right arm.
From the tips of my fingers all the way up to my shoulder, my arm was smooth, too white and pale to be living flesh. It flexed and moved like a normal arm, but without wrinkles or tendons or veins. It looked like an animated statue. Only at the curve of the shoulder did the material meld into normal skin, but white tendrils were already reaching into my shoulder blade and collarbone.
Klara, the life mage who’d studied me after I’d replaced my hand, had told me that the fateweaver was going to continue transmuting my body until one of three things happened: it reached a stable equilibrium, it reached my brain, or it reached my heart. She’d been fairly confident that the last one would happen first, probably within a few months. Right now, that estimate was looking very optimistic.
I’ve made a lot of enemies in my life. Light mages, Dark mages, magical creatures. Over the years, as that list had got longer and longer, I’d had a growing feeling at the back of my mind that it was more than I could handle. Sooner or later one of the people I’d pissed off was going to catch me at the wrong time, and I’d be too slow or too outmatched or just unlucky. One of them would get me – the only question was which.
But over the last couple of weeks, I’d changed my mind. My enemies weren’t going to kill me; this would. I didn’t have any evidence and I hadn’t seen it in any of my divinations, but the feeling didn’t go away.
I did a short workout. I’ve had to change my exercises over the past month, as the fateweaver spread to transmute more and more of my arm. Push-ups don’t work any more: my right arm is too strong. Barbell lifts had the same problem. Instead I did dumbbell exercises on my left side, then some leg and abdominal work. Once I was done, I washed and shaved and walked out.
The air of the Hollow was fresh and clean. A glance through the futures told me that Karyos wouldn’t be up until the afternoon, so instead I reached out through the dreamstone to Luna.
Luna responded instantly to my mental touch, with no trace of drowsiness. You’re up early, I told her.
Couldn’t sleep. Anything?
On Vari? No. I need your help with something.
Okay.
The invasion’s going to launch this evening, I said. Between then and now, find out what you can about what Richard’s adepts are up to. Preparations, mobilisations.
Richard? Luna said. Not the Council?
The Council are going to be coming to me.
And what about when they get Vari in their sights and decide he’s acceptable losses?
Then they’ll start being a problem again, yes. Until then, my bigger worry’s Richard.
Luna was silent for a moment. All right, she sent. I’ll handle it.
Thanks. I’ll be in touch.
I broke the connection and started reaching out through the futures. It was time to look up an old friend.
A cold breeze hit me as I stepped out of Elsewhere and let the gate close behind me. I was standing on a mountaintop, granite and close-cropped grass dropping off around me down and down into the valleys below. The sea glittered in the distance, and the sky above was bright and blue.
A few hundred feet north of me was an old hut, hidden by the rocks. If I followed the ridge around the boulders, the hut would appear, and it would be empty and deserted. Door hanging open, cold burnt sticks in the fireplace. Someone had been there, perhaps recently, but they were gone.
I terminated the path-walk and explored a different future where I left the ridgeline and approached the hut from the other side. This time I’d see the fireplace first. Once again, there’d be nothing there. My future self entered the hut, searching nooks and crannies. Empty.
New future. I circled all the way around and crept up from the back. Once the future Alex had reached the hut’s back wall, he moved swiftly around to the door.
Empty.
I paused, then started walking. I kept a very close eye on the futures of the empty hut. For a moment, I thought I saw them quiver.
I came around the boulders, still watching the futures. My divination told me I’d see a cold fireplace, an empty hut with an open door . . .
The hut’s door was closed, the rock in front of it neatly swept. A small campfire was burning, the flames licking at the bottom of a pot. And sitting on a flat stone was an old man with bleached-white hair, dressed lightly despite the cold, glaring right at me.
‘Goddammit,’ Helikaon said in a tone of pure disgust.
I used to believe that my divination always told the truth. When it failed, I’d assume that it was my fault, that I’d made some kind of mistake. But gradually, over the years, I’d noticed that those mistakes seemed to happen a lot more often around certain people. Specifically, other diviners.
I’d finally figured it out last month. Master diviners could project illusionary futures, make other seers think that something was going to happen when it wouldn’t. That was how Richard had been able to trick me in the past, and how Helikaon had tried to trick me today.
‘I’d say it was good to see you,’ I said, ‘but apparently the feeling’s not mutual.’
‘What gave you that idea?’ Helikaon jabbed his thumb back at the hut. ‘Long as you’re here, make yourself useful and get some cups.’
I walked forward. ‘Not this time.’
Helikaon looked up at me as I stopped on the other side of the fire. His eyes were sharp, calculating. The short-sword at his side shifted as he adjusted his position.
I looked down at my old teacher and he looked back up at me. Then with a sigh I sat down on a rock, and the moment was gone. ‘I was hoping you could give me some help.’
Helikaon grunted, the tension leaving him. ‘Been trying to do that for fifteen years.’
I nodded. ‘Your way was never going to work for me.’
‘Of course it bloody works,’ Helikaon said. ‘Can’t hurt someone if they’re not there.’
‘You can still hurt everyone else.’
Helikaon shrugged.
‘I know, you don’t care,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not here to change your mind.’
‘Like to see you try.’ Helikaon pulled himself upright and disappeared back into the hut, reappearing a few seconds later with a single mug.
‘So you’re not here for advice,’ Helikaon said, leaning over to check the water in the pot. ‘Then what?’