Chapter 21
In Which Worry Is Knitting My Insides into Something a Lady Might Wear as a Scarf. In Which I Am Present in the Moment and Cherishing the Gift that Is the ‘Now,’ While the Nauseous Lump that Is the Future Tries to Work Itself through My Mouth. In Which I Really, Really Am Trying.
I shielded my eyes from the sun. The breeze carried salt from the sea below, where waves foamed and splashed, first pounding then sucking back from the rocky cliffs.
I maintained a respectful distance from the edge. And not just because of the dizzying drop—I felt certain that if I did fall, those churning currents would keep my corpse dancing forever beneath the surface.
I pointed at the water below. “Would all the salt pickle me?”
Merulo frowned at me before understanding. “Fish would eat you first.”
I scrutinized his reply for any trace of temper, but failed to find it. If anything, he sounded playful. Nothing of his latest tantrum remained.
“The correct answer,” I said, aiming for similar lightness, “was that you would save me, from both the fish and the salt.”
“Hm.” Merulo had brought a book, which he opened to an interior spread of a rocky landscape. He seemed to be comparing it to our location. Apparently satisfied, he snapped the book shut and drew a pouch from the enchanted depths of his robes.
“What’s that for?” I asked, and received an annoyed huff in response. Merulo showed little enthusiasm when discussing magic.
“Channeling the spell,” he said. “It’s not strictly necessary, but we’re in no rush. The words and items, they give direction.”
Upending his pouch, the sorcerer poured small bones onto the lichen-webbed stone.
He knelt before his pile, showing no regard for the cleanliness of his robe.
Then, startling me, he placed his thumb between his teeth and bit.
Blood welled up, shocking scarlet against his pallid skin.
Before I could protest, Merulo pressed his thumb to the rockface, dragging it to paint a crude pentagram around the bones.
“Can’t think of a better way to get an infected wound.” I crossed my arms. “Honestly, you don’t think enough about keeping yourself well. Like, say . . .” Here I hesitated, uncertain if I was probing a sore spot. “. . . in the after times. If you—after you succeed. We might be hated.”
To distract from my anxiety, I picked up a nearby rock. Hiding behind a hand, I gave it a test lick to see if the salt coated everything.
It tasted like a rock.
“Next time we’ll bring baked goods. It’s been less than an hour, and you’re already eating stones,” the sorcerer muttered.
Rolling my shoulder, I tossed the stone away. It soared over the cliff’s edge, chattering as it bounced along the rocks below. “And am I right in assuming there won’t be constructs to come to our defense, after the magic’s gone?”
I’d have to start manually cleaning the garderobes, too, lest the fumes kill us where we squatted. And without portals, it’d be a long round trip to restock the castle from local villages. Which meant we should purchase unicorns now and set up a stable area in the courtyard.
I’d want a palomino unicorn, to match my hair. Merulo could have a greasy black one.
“If I can finish my work—if you can find it in yourself to stop distracting me . . .” The sorcerer examined his bloody handiwork.
“You shouldn’t be in any danger, as the prophecy will be rendered meaningless.
If it’s truly a concern, I can transport you to a region well outside the Church’s influence.
” He cleared his throat, then shouted guttural, dry words that made me long for unsalted water.
The ground beneath our feet trembled—then, things rose from it, pushing through the solid surface as if it were pudding.
“What about you? Why not perform this ‘killing God’ spell in safe territory to begin with?” Something rose from the ground close to me, and I side-stepped to give it room.
It looked to be the stone skull of an enormous animal, all beaked snout and spiky teeth.
“And we’ll meet up, right, after you’re finished? ”
“We will not.” The sorcerer reopened the wound on his thumb with another bite, then walked among the giant bones, smearing them with bloody symbols. I could see more bones surfacing in the distance. We’d be at this for a while.
“Okay, whatever, so I’ll just stay with you.” Taking my words literally, I followed the sorcerer as he walked along the cliff, attending to the bones.
“Cameron, when this is done . . .” Merulo rubbed at his bleeding thumb.
“I have enjoyed this, certainly, and I’d be lying to deny there’s .
. . temptation. But what I aim to complete is vastly more important than either of us.
And when it is finished, I will not be in a state where I can—” The sorcerer cut himself off, grimacing.
He spoke an incomprehensible word, and the blood-marked bones floated into the air, drawing toward him to circle like curious birds.
I wanted to grip Merulo by his scrawny shoulders and shake him out like a carpet, but those orbiting bones spun with the force of missiles. “What does that mean? Whatever you’re planning, it’s not going to kill you, is it?”
“I will be in a state where survival may not be possible,” he admitted, distant behind his net of skulls, whirling vertebrae, and dagger-like ribs.
“What state? Merulo, what state will you be in?”
He continued his walk along the cliff, bending now and then to add a bone to his flock. “I will not have this body. The things I do now will no longer be possible.”
The distance between us grew with each addition, the density of swirling bones making it difficult to hear him.
“All this time, you’ve been building toward something that will destroy you?” I said, and did not receive an answer.
Sometime later, his scouring of the cliffside complete, the sorcerer sung open a portal and gave a choir conductor’s gesture. The hovering bones dove like seabirds, disappearing one by one, until Merulo and I stood alone on the cliffside.
As he moved to step through, I darted forward and caught his arm. “You know, destroying the magic . . . it’s a massive change to be imposing on a whole lot of folks who, quite frankly, like the world the way it is.”
“And?” The sorcerer pulled his arm out of my grip. With another step, he vanished.
Cursing loudly, I jumped through the portal after him, leaving the sea behind without a glance. “I mean—okay, I don’t really care about that aspect either. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?” The sorcerer cut a strong shape in the windy courtyard, with his flapping black hair and robe. The bones no longer hovered, but had stacked themselves obediently in a corner alongside a more typical pile of human and animal remains.
“If this is a . . . a quest toward self-destruction—if it’s some stupid, grand suicide . . .” I raised my hands in exasperation. “I don’t know that I can watch that happen without doing anything.”
“And what would you do?” The sorcerer completed his inspection of the bones, presumably the cores of some monstrous future constructs, and stalked past me.
“You’d have me throw it all away? Burn all I’ve fought for to ash, in exchange for what—eating scones with Sir Cameron?
” His voice twisted, mocking me, but the breath he held betrayed him. It was a real question.
My hands stretched toward him, like a drowning swimmer.
“Yes. If the alternative is you dying, then yes. Fuck it. Burn it all.” He was almost within reach.
Just a couple more steps, and I could see my words landing like blows.
“You don’t have to do all this. Just stay here, with me, and .
. . we’ll keep doing what we’re doing. Or we can go somewhere else. We could do anything at all.”
The sorcerer wilted, defeat already carved into his face. My fingers brushed his robe. “No more of this destroying God bullshit—”
“Leave.”
“Pardon?”
The sorcerer side-stepped me. My hands groped at empty air. “Leave. I want you out of my castle.”
“But . . . surely we can talk about this—”
He stood rigid, as if in a pre-death rigor mortis. “I have no use for those who distract me from my goals.”
“Merulo—”
“LEAVE!” he screeched, his eye flashing, and suddenly the courtyard was full of constructs, their heads raised and waiting.
“But the prophecy . . .”
A quiver ran through him, and my horror lessened by a degree.
He still needed me! He couldn’t buck off our connection.
Our fates were tied. Once more, I tried to close the distance—and constructs mobbed me, forming a barrier of wing and claw and misshapen gut.
I pressed forward, shoving the gnarled arms that blocked my view.
Over the shoulder of a goat-faced construct, I caught a glimpse of the sorcerer stalking away. “Merulo!”
He didn’t turn around. “You’ll destroy me either way, Sir Cameron. So leave.”
I shouted a bit more, and bruised my hands on several wooden bodies. I might have even bitten one. But their eyes didn’t flash, and none of them moved to harm me or retaliate.
Finally, at some unheard command, the constructs dispersed, leaving me panting but unrestrained. The wind rasped at my eyes, and I wiped them.
“I’m coming in now!” I shouted to nobody, for the constructs had crawled and scuttled away to attend to other duties, leaving me a solitary speck in the empty expanse of the courtyard. “Merulo?”
But there was nobody to respond. The mad sorcerer had gone.