Forged

chapter 8

Cinder and I separated and I lay low for the rest of the day. The next morning found me back in the Hollow.

We’ve got trouble, Variam told me telepathically.

Slow down, I said. What trouble and how?

And when you say we, do you mean trouble for us, or trouble for the Keepers? Luna added. Because one of those bothers me a lot more than the other.

Things had reached the point where I couldn’t risk meeting Variam face-to-face, and phone or internet communications were almost as bad. The only safe method left was the dreamstone, which was why I was sitting in my cottage in the dark, eyes closed as I concentrated. Maintaining a three-way link (so that Luna could take part in the conversation as well) was much harder than a two-way one, but at least I was getting plenty of dreamstone practice.

Okay, Variam said. So that attack yesterday that we got scrambled for? The one where we thought we’d driven them off? Turns out we didn’t drive them off, they withdrew. And they withdrew because they got what they wanted.

It was definitely Richard’s cabal? I asked.

They were using shroud spells, but yeah, we’re ninety-nine percent sure. They were using their big guns too. Vihaela was there, and from the sound of it so was Richard.

So last year Onyx steals something from the Southampton facility, and now Richard does? Luna said. Why do they even keep using that place?

It wasn’t supposed to be there at all, Variam said. It was being constructed in a shadow realm, and they were supposed to be transferring it directly to the Vault. There was some issue and they moved it to Southampton temporarily. Somehow Richard found out and hit the place first.

Okay, I said. You said at the beginning that this was something to do with Anne. What’s the link?

So, we haven’t been told any of this officially, Variam said. But when they found out about Anne and that jinn, it seems some of the high-ups green-lit a crash program to create some sort of anti-jinn weapon. They’ve been rushing construction on the prototype and they were moving it to the Vault for testing.

They want to use it on Anne? Luna asked.

What kind of weapon? I asked.

No one’s talking, Variam said. But they are seriously stirred up right now. The Council’s been in emergency session since last night and everyone’s on standby.

Right, I said. About that. The attack on Southampton might not be the only reason the Council’s in emergency session.

What do you mean?

Let’s just say you might be getting some orders soon about making me a priority target.

Alex? There was a warning note to Variam’s thoughts. What did you do?

You’re probably better off not knowing.

Oh, bloody hell. I could feel Variam sigh. Look, I’ve got to go, Landis is calling. I’ll check in when I hear anything.

Don’t, I said. It’s too risky for you to contact me. I’ll get in touch with you instead.

He’s right, Vari, Luna said.

Fine, but you’d better tell me what the hell you’ve been up to. Vari out.

I let the link to Variam and Luna dissolve and stood, wincing a little at the stiffness in my legs. Pulling back the curtains from the window, I blinked as the midmorning sun streamed into the cottage. Once I’d adjusted to the light, I slipped the dreamstone into my pocket and walked out into the warm air of the Hollow.

Hey, November, I said, closing the door behind me.

It is somewhat disturbing when you do that unannounced, November replied.

I started out along one of the grassy paths. Would have thought you’d be used to it.

You don’t use any kind of handshake protocol! How am I supposed to authenticate that it’s you? All I have to go on is . . .

. . . Tone of voice?

If you were using a voice, I could employ vocal recognition software.

Well, you’ll just have to recognise me the old-fashioned way.

But it’s so untidy!

I came out into Karyos’s clearing. The hamadryad was sitting cross-legged under her tree, chin resting in her hands. November was propped up in the grass, a webcam balanced on top of his case. “. . . which was why Levistus made the choice to install me there,” he was saying. His voice sounded slightly tinny through the speakers. “It was to do with trade-offs in location.”

“I don’t understand this ‘Heron Tower,’” Karyos said. “Why would he build it?”

“Um, he didn’t,” November said. “Its construction was financed by a property development company.”

“But why would they build something so tall?”

“Because . . . er . . . well, skyscraper development is correlated with land value, and the property values in the financial districts of central London are more than high enough. It’s really local ordinances that are the limiting factors.”

“But if they built something smaller, they’d be closer to the ground.”

“Er . . . well, yes, that’s true, but . . .”

“Hey, guys,” I said, walking out into the clearing. “How are you getting on?”

“The things your elemental tells me are so strange.” Karyos gazed thoughtfully at November. “I have so much to learn about your world.”

“I told you, I’m not an elemental,” November said, sounding slightly annoyed. “And as for your question, Mr. Verus—”

“You know, you can just call me Alex.”

“Yes, well, I’d find it much easier to adjust if I didn’t have to rely on this substandard equipment.”

“You wanted speakers, I got you speakers.”

“They’re Apple speakers!”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes!”

“Do they not work?”

“It’s the principle of the thing. In Heron Tower I had a customised full-surround—”

“I know, you’ve told me,” I said, holding back a sigh. “Look, you’re just going to have to accept that living in freedom out on the wild frontier comes with some sacrifices. Which apparently include Apple speakers.”

“Those speaking machines are not made of apples,” Karyos pointed out. “I don’t understand why the elemental is concerned.”

“For the last time, I am not an elemental!”

“November?” I said. “I just heard something a little worrying from one of my contacts with the Council.” I relayed Variam’s story. “Do you know anything about that?”

“Hmm,” November said thoughtfully. “Unfortunately not. I had picked up some pieces of information suggesting the existence of a new weapons project. But as regards such matters, the flow was always one-way. I passed on my findings to Levistus and Barrayar, but they didn’t keep me informed in return.”

“Did Levistus give you any special orders as far as Anne and her jinn were concerned?” I asked. “Push them up the priority list for tracking, that sort of thing?”

“Not at all,” November said. “He never gave me any indication that he was especially concerned with her. Actually, he was far more concerned with you, and the rest of his political opponents on the Council.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I should have guessed.” Anne wasn’t a direct threat to Levistus’s political career, and at the end of the day, that was what he cared about. “Okay. Let’s carry on where you left off.”

“Of course,” November said. “We’d just reached the aftermath of the collapse of White Rose and Morden’s ascension to the Junior Council. As you know, it was in this period that Levistus was raised to the Senior Council. He had been allowing everyone to believe that his strategy for doing so relied upon arranging for Nirvathis to be raised to the Junior Council first. In reality, Nirvathis had never been more than a smokescreen, which is why he was discarded so quickly after Morden’s appointment. Levistus’s actual plan had always been to leverage his influence over Undaaris and Sal Sarque, while keeping both of them ignorant of his dealings with the other. This was also the period in which the remaining members of the Council became fully aware of Richard Drakh’s return. While most of them did not favour taking any sort of direct action, Levistus was able to take advantage of this increase in tension by . . .”

Listening to November’s history lesson was fascinating. I’d thought that by now, when it came to the Council, I was well-informed. I’d been very wrong. November’s position had given him a bird’s-eye view of all of Levistus’s dealings, and it was eye-opening to learn how much had been going on.

For example, Levistus had had plans in place for years to have me assassinated, and the only reason he hadn’t pulled the trigger was because of all the attacks and assassination attempts I’d drawn from everyone else. Basically, he’d decided it wasn’t worth spending the resources to have me killed because there was such a good chance that if he waited long enough, someone else would do it for him. He’d been happy to point other people in my direction though: he’d been the one to supply the Nightstalkers with my name and address, and he’d had a hand in getting the Council intelligence services to order my death during the operation in Syria. Once I’d been raised to the Council, he’d been planning to step that up further, but he’d been distracted by a behind-the-scenes power struggle between him and Bahamus.

On that subject, November’s files had also contained Levistus’s notes on the other members of the Senior Council. Right at the top of the list was Undaaris, a water mage who’d been largely responsible for my first death sentence. I’d noticed for a while that Levistus seemed to have a lot of influence on Undaaris, and the files made it clear why. Undaaris had been a heavy user of White Rose before its destruction, and the report had gone into detail as to the kinds of activities he’d pursued there. With attached audio and video files. I’d unwisely had November show them to me and was forced to take a break while my digestive system tried to crawl up my throat and spit acid on my brain.

Sal Sarque had also been under Levistus’s influence, though for a different reason. Apparently back when Sal Sarque was a captain in the Order of the Star, he was given command of a sensitive operation where he screwed the pooch in a major way. It had been covered up, but not well enough. Levistus had dirt on Bahamus as well, though in his case it had taken the form of family secrets. Bahamus’s father had also been a mage, and active in Council politics. He hadn’t been as successful as his son, and his family had accumulated some of the sorts of favours that it’s a bad idea to owe. Bringing that all to light wouldn’t have brought Bahamus down, but it would have seriously damaged him. Bahamus, in turn, had evidence of Levistus’s own breaches of the Concord during the first struggle over the fateweaver, and as a result Levistus and Bahamus had settled into an uneasy truce.

That left Druss, Alma, and Spire. In Druss’s case, Levistus had turned up some irregularities concerning Druss’s past romantic relationships (of which it turned out there had been a lot). However, when Levistus had approached Druss on the subject and offered his silence in exchange for Druss’s support, Druss told Levistus to go screw himself, and Levistus backed down. Finally, with Alma and Spire, Levistus had been unable to find any significant blackmail material at all. The lack of dirt on Alma was irritating, since she’d consistently been my third-worst enemy on the Council, but that’s how life goes. Just because someone’s your enemy doesn’t mean they’re evil. Or at least no more evil than any other politician.

It was a weird thought, but in helping get rid of Sal Sarque, I might have done the Council a favour. With him and Undaaris under Levistus’s thumb, Levistus had only ever been one vote away from a straight majority. In another five years, he probably would have been running the country. I wasn’t sure how happy I was about cleaning up the Council’s messes for them, but it wasn’t as though I had much of a choice.

“Well,” I said once November had finished. “That was . . . educational. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Your Council’s problems sound familiar,” Karyos said. “Perhaps humans haven’t changed so much after all.”

“So, if you don’t mind my asking,” November said, “what are you going to do now?”

“Now?” I said. “I get back in touch with the Council and try again to call a truce.”

“Even with Levistus?”

“Even with Levistus. I’m not in this for revenge. If I can make peace, I’ll do it.”

“Ah,” November said. “I’m not sure how to say this, but . . .”

“No, I’m not going to give you back to Levistus,” I said. “Firstly I made you a promise, and secondly I wouldn’t trust him to keep any deal he made.”

“That’s certainly a relief,” November said. “But do you think you can negotiate with the Council at all?”

“Well, that’s the problem,” I said. “As long as they see me as just some turncoat mage, talking to them is going to be a waste of time. I have to make them realise that pursuing me isn’t worth it. Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re going to take my word for that. Which means I’m going to have to prove it to them. And on that subject . . .” I looked at Karyos. “Remember when we were talking about how we first met? You told me you’d been to a lot of shadow realms over the course of your life. Do you still remember them all?”

“My memories are distant, but they have been growing clearer.”

I nodded. “I’m looking for a shadow realm with some particular characteristics. Specifically, a deep shadow realm.”

“What characteristics?”

I explained.

Karyos frowned. “I believe there are one or two. But much time has passed. I do not know if they may have changed.”

“It’s a place to start,” I said. “Give me the details and I’ll go check them out.”

“Do you really think these negotiations will work?” November asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “The Council might decide that now I have access to your files, it’s too dangerous to try to destroy me. On the other hand, they might decide it’s too dangerous not to try to destroy me. It’s too big a decision for me to swing. I’ll just have to wait and see which way they jump.”

“When will you know?”

“I’ve already put out a feeler to Talisid,” I said. “I don’t think it’ll be long.”

—

Talisid got back to me only a couple of hours later, arranging a call for that same evening. It was nice to know I’d be getting a definite answer, but I had no idea whether it’d be a good one.

As evening approached I went to a similar location to the one I’d used for my last call, and went through a similar set of preparations. One thing was different: the futures didn’t have any Council Keepers gating in on top of me. Apparently the Council had suspended their hunting operations, which was a hopeful sign. Once I’d finished, I leant against a tree and closed my eyes. The day’s warmth had faded with the setting sun, and the breeze felt cool as it stirred my clothes and hair.

Faces swam in my mind’s eye. Cinder and Rachel. Morden and Richard. Arachne, Anne. Links and plans and traps, past and future, all shrouded in fog.

Once I’d been a simple shopkeeper. I’d had little power, but with that lack of power had come freedom. I’d lived as I pleased, and no one had noticed or cared. Now I had all the power in the world, and no freedom at all.

My communicator chimed. I straightened, opened my eyes, and activated the disc. “Talisid,” I said.

“Mage Verus,” Talisid said.

You can tell a lot from how someone opens a conversation. Talisid had called on time, and his voice had a subtle but definite note of caution. So far so good. “I assume you’ve been briefed on yesterday’s developments.”

“I believe so,” Talisid said carefully.

“That’s fine. I think you understand the important parts. I’d like to carry on where we left off. You remember our last conversation?”

“As I recall, you were requesting a ceasefire.”

No scare quotes around ceasefire: also good. “So let’s try this again,” I said. “Is the Council willing to reconsider?”

“Why would you expect them to be?”

“Because if they don’t, I’ll blow them up,” I said. “Metaphorically, not literally. Though I think they’d rather deal with a literal explosion than the political fallout from this. I’m pretty sure I can bring down . . . oh, three or four of the current Senior Council? Not really the best timing, is it, with you being in the middle of a war? Especially not with Richard Drakh still carrying out successful strikes like yesterday’s. I imagine it really wouldn’t help to have your leadership paralysed with a political crisis.”

“The Council does not respond well to threats.”

“Funny, they spend enough time threatening everyone else. I know you’ve got them on the line. Go get your orders.”

Silence. I stood there and watched the swirl of futures. Nothing useful.

“What exactly are you proposing?” Talisid asked eventually.

“A ceasefire, like I said. Amusing as it would be to watch, I don’t actually have any particular interest in causing a political catastrophe for you guys. You halt your operations against me and my associates, and you don’t carry out any further ones. In exchange, I’ll keep my recent information windfall to myself.”

“That hardly seems like an even trade.”

“How is that not an even trade? Stopping your attacks on me costs you nothing. In fact, it costs you less than nothing, because you’ll be able to take the resources you’ve been deploying against me and use them against Richard’s cabal instead. You remove a threat and free up personnel, all without lifting a finger.”

“The problem is security,” Talisid said. “Once you have what you want, there’ll be nothing to stop you from taking the information you have and distributing it anyway.”

“And there’ll be nothing to stop you from going right back to hunting me.”

“We have considerably more to lose than you do,” Talisid said. “I’m sorry, but we’re not willing to accept any arrangement with you holding a sword over our heads.”

“Funny, I’ve been living with that for years,” I said. “But fine. You don’t like the deal, come up with a better one.”

“Hold, please.”

More silence. I tried to imagine how the argument between the Council members must be going. I had the feeling that Levistus was very unpopular right now.

The pause dragged out. Five minutes passed, then ten. At last Talisid’s voice came from the focus. “Mage Verus?”

“I’m still here.”

“The Council has come to an agreement,” Talisid said. “We are . . . conditionally . . . willing to grant your request. If you agree to our terms, you will be granted a full amnesty and pardon for your actions connected to the incident at San Vittore, as well as to any actions taken during your period as a fugitive.”

“What kind of terms?”

“I am given to understand that your ‘information windfall’ is in fact a self-aware storage system and imbued item that you took possession of yesterday,” Talisid said. “The Council wants it returned.”

I didn’t answer.

“Mage Verus?”

“I heard,” I said. “I’m just trying to think what possible reason I could have for saying yes.”

“As I said, we are willing to grant your request. This is what we require in exchange.”

“Why?” I said.

“Consider it a show of commitment.”

“I can see how it’s a show of commitment for me. Not seeing how it’s much of one for you.”

“You are asking the Council to accept multiple, repeated, and flagrant breaches of the Concord,” Talisid said. “Your actions have—by your own admission—earned you a capital sentence many times over. If we are to set this aside, we require something in exchange.”

Again I didn’t answer.

“Mage Verus?”

“Hold, please.”

I closed my eyes and path-walked, looking through short-term conversations and long-term ones, searching for common elements. Shadowy proposals and counter-proposals flickered in and out of existence, but I didn’t catch a single glimpse of any future in which Talisid gave way. This was the only deal they were offering. It was take it or leave it.

There was one thing more I needed to know. “How are we going to make the trade?” I asked.

“At a neutral location,” Talisid said. “I suggest Concordia.”

The old, famous bubble realm where the Concord had been negotiated. “No,” I said. “We’re doing this face-to-face, I’m picking the location.”

“As long as it is a neutral location, we will consider it,” Talisid said. “I would also suggest that both sides bring no more than five delegates.”

“Three,” I said. “And you have to be one of them.”

“Providing that you likewise attend, that is acceptable.”

He’d agreed to that quickly. Time for the big question. “All right,” I said. “One last condition. I want that amnesty you offered to restore the status quo. That means I keep my seat on the Junior Council.”

Talisid paused. “That does not seem in keeping with your previous demands.”

“If you’re changing the deal, so am I. Well?”

“I will have to consult with the Council.”

Silence. I studied the futures. They were still swirling, but there was a pattern to them. The decision had already been made.

It took less time than I’d expected for Talisid to speak again. “Mage Verus? The Council is provisionally willing to restore your seat. However, you will not be guaranteed it in perpetuity. Normal procedures of elevation and removal will apply.”

“I see.”

“Do we have an agreement?”

I stood silent for a moment. “Yes,” I said at last, my voice steady. “We have an agreement. Oh, and just so you know, those two people I’ll be bringing to the meeting? One of them will be Mage Anne Walker.”

Talisid paused before answering. “I hope that isn’t intended as a threat.”

“Just something for you to keep in mind,” I said. “I’ll contact you tomorrow with a time and place.”

“Understood,” Talisid said. “Thank you for your time.”

“You as well.”

The light on the communicator focus went dark and the connection broke. The sun had set and the light was fading from the sky, leaving the woods dark and cold. “Shit,” I said to the empty clearing. I stood there for a long time, my figure one more shadow in the gloom.

—

I returned to the Hollow, fell asleep, and travelled to Elsewhere. I had people to meet.

“So that’s the plan,” I told Dark Anne. “You in?”

“Hmm,” Anne said. She put her chin in one hand and studied me.

We were on the border between my Elsewhere and Anne’s. Behind me was an ancient city of yellow-brown stone; behind Anne, a wild forest of ancient trees. Anne’s dream-self was wearing a wine-coloured dress that left her arms bare but fell all the way to the ground: it trailed behind her as she walked. She had one arm folded under her breasts, her reddish eyes staring at me. The sky behind her was grey-black and stormy, and the leaves on the trees whipped in a distant wind.

“So?” I said when she didn’t speak.

“You’ve changed,” Dark Anne said.

“I told you that a while ago.”

“I thought you’d have gone back to normal by now.”

“This is the new normal.”

Dark Anne watched me unblinkingly. “You never would have done this before.”

“Back when your other self was running things, you’d always push me to be less cautious,” I said. “Now all of a sudden you’ve changed your mind?”

“Maybe there’s something you want,” Dark Anne said. “Is that it?”

I sighed. “I was always like this, Anne. It’s just that back then I was trying to be someone different.”

“Mm.”

“What, you’re worried your half’s too dangerous?” I said. “I suppose I could find someone else if I have to, but I honestly thought you could handle it.”

“What?” Dark Anne said. “No, that’s easy. Though you’ve got some cheek calling it a half. I’m going to be doing all the hard work.”

“And I’m the one who’s going to be on his own in the shadow realm. You really want to trade jobs?”

Dark Anne tapped her fingers against her arm, then shrugged. “All right, I’ll trust you. You’d better not make me regret it.”

“What’s with the attitude?” I said. “A few weeks ago, you seemed all in on this.”

“I still am. What’s your endgame, Alex?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. Right now we’re aiming at the same targets. What are you planning once they’re gone?”

“You’re worried I’m going to stab you in the back?”

“Pretty much.”

“I don’t want to stab you in the back,” I said. “And I don’t want to get rid of you any other way, either.”

“No, you just want me locked up again.”

I shook my head. “I think we’ve both learned that doesn’t work.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Anne locking you up didn’t work,” I said. “You locking Anne up won’t work any better. The two of you can’t stay like this. You’re split when you should be whole, and it’s killing you.”

“Bull,” Dark Anne said. She spread her arms invitingly. “I am doing just fine. You want to sit around until this kills me, you’re going to have a long wait.”

I studied Dark Anne. “Has the jinn started taking over yet?”

Dark Anne’s face went expressionless.

“It’ll be subtle to begin with,” I said. “You’ll be deciding what to do, and one choice will look better for some reason. You won’t be quite sure why, but it’ll just seem like the natural thing to do. Then later on, it’ll start to have more of a voice. Persuading and convincing. You can say no, but it won’t get weaker, it’ll get stronger. It’ll always be there, pushing you. Each time you give in, it’ll take a tiny bit of ground, then a tiny bit more, until there’s nothing left. This thing is thousands of years old; you haven’t even turned twenty-seven. You think you’re going to beat it in an endurance contest?”

“You’ve spent all your life making deals with magical creatures,” Dark Anne said. “You think you can do it and I can’t?”

“All of those deals, I made sure to know what the creature wanted. And what I could afford to give.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t all get it that easy, do we? I saw a way out and I took it. Sorry it doesn’t meet your approval.”

We stared at each other across the boundary. Seconds dragged out.

Dark Anne broke the deadlock, shaking her head. “Whatever. I’ll do your job. Just don’t keep me waiting.” She turned and left, disappearing into the trees. I watched her go, but she didn’t look back.

Once I was sure she wasn’t returning, I walked to a white stone bench and sat down. Even though I’d moved only a little way, my own Elsewhere had closed in around me, and the trees and wilderness of Anne’s landscape were distant and faded. I stared at the grey sky and the swaying trees.

The conversation had gone to plan, more or less. Still, I wasn’t happy. It felt as though every time I saw Anne, she was further away. I was pretty sure she’d do her part this time. But after?

I shook off the feeling. I had someone else I needed to meet, a conversation I’d put off too long. I sat on the bench and waited.

I felt her presence first, ripples spreading through Elsewhere, quick and agitated. I sat there as the footsteps grew louder until a teenage girl with short red hair appeared from behind a line of pillars. “You!” Shireen pointed at me. “Stay there!”

I stayed where I was as Shireen strode across the courtyard. “You know how long I’ve been looking for you?” she demanded. Her face was flushed and angry. “Every time you come to Elsewhere you hide, then you run away before I can catch up!”

“Sorry.”

“What do you mean, sorry? What are you doing? What are you trying to do?”

Shireen looked like a teenager, but she was the same age as me . . . or at least she had been. When Rachel had killed her, a part of Shireen lived on, tethered to our world by her connection to the girl who’d once been her best friend. I didn’t know whether she was a ghost, a memory, or something else, but she’d been trying for years to get me to help Rachel. I’d finally done something, but she didn’t seem happy about it.

“I’ve had a stressful few weeks,” I said.

“Oh, you’ve had a stressful few weeks?” Shireen glared at me. “Rachel’s going insane right now, you know that? Her place with Richard and her relationship with Cinder were the only things holding her together! Now she’s lost both!”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure the second one of those is not my fault,” I said. “Rachel and Cinder had their bust-up before I got involved. In fact, from the sound of it, Cinder barely got out alive.”

Shireen shifted uncomfortably. “She wasn’t trying to hurt him badly.”

“And the last time they met, she tried to disintegrate him, then ran away.”

“That was never going to kill him.”

“Yeah, and neither would sticking him with a knife, but I don’t stab him every time I say hello.”

“It’s . . . complicated.” Shireen shook her head. “Stop distracting me! Maybe that isn’t your fault, but what happened with Richard is!”

“Not arguing that.”

“You tricked her! Now Richard hates her! She’s been cut loose!”

“You wanted me to break her free of Richard,” I pointed out. “Seems to me I did exactly what you asked.”

“She needed to leave Richard because she wanted to! Instead she got thrown out! Richard told her that she could fix her mess or die trying, so now that’s what she’s trying to do! She’s going crazy!”

“Come on,” I said. “You really expected me to talk Rachel into wanting to leave Richard? She would never have done that. Never in a million years. I saw exactly one way to break her away from Richard and keep myself alive into the bargain, and I took it. And honestly, you should be grateful for what you’ve got, because you and Cinder are the only reasons I haven’t killed her already.”

“She used to be your friend!”

“She sat around filing her nails while I was getting tortured in Richard’s basement,” I snapped. “She’s tried to murder me so many times I’ve lost count. She watched what Richard did to Anne, and laughed. She is not my friend, and I don’t owe her shit.”

“You owe me.”

“And that’s why she’s still alive.”

We glared at each other across the cracked flagstones. “How can you be this selfish?” Shireen demanded. “I thought you were trying to be better than this?”

“I try to be better when I’m dealing with people who deserve it,” I said. “Which Rachel most definitely does not. I have known her for a really long time, and I can honestly say that she’s one of the worst human beings I’ve ever met. She’s sadistic, unstable, totally self-centred, and she doesn’t have the slightest trace of kindness or honour to balance it out. Her only redeeming features are her relationships with you and Cinder, and she tried to kill Cinder and she did kill you! I don’t understand why the two of you haven’t given up on her by now. What is it going to take to make you write her off?”

“I can’t,” Shireen said. “She’s why I’m here. As long as there’s a chance, I have to try.”

I stared at Shireen, and all of a sudden it struck me that maybe she meant that literally. She’d described herself once as a shadow. Maybe that was how she’d been preserved, as some kind of embodiment of Rachel’s guilty conscience. She literally couldn’t stop, any more than a heart could stop beating.

“Okay, Shireen,” I said. “I’ll give you your chance. Tomorrow. I’ll be there, and so will Cinder. Get ready to talk to Rachel and make your case. Because one way or the other, I’m ending this. Rachel’s going to have to choose a side, once and for all.”

“Tomorrow where?” Alarm flashed in Shireen’s eyes. “No, Alex, what are you planning? She won’t listen to me. It has to be you.”

“She’s going to listen to someone. Only question is who.”

“Wait!”

“Tomorrow, Shireen,” I said. “It’s time to end this.” I stepped out of Elsewhere, and back into my own dreams.