Test of Metal

TEZZERET

I sat on the sand, tinkering with Renn’s perceptual powers while Baltrice incinerated the last few thousand zombies. To the limits of my vision around us, the desert was stained with black soot and dusted with white ash. A vast pall of smoke filled the sky above the Netherglass, casting a permanent twilight upon the Crystal Labyrinth. Given that the peculiarities of the area included a huge stationary vortex in the prevailing winds, it was possible that the smoke would be there forever. Or at least until some powerful stormcaller could be persuaded to blow it away.

I had to pause in my tinkering every so often; the clothing I had magicked for myself was not quite sand-proof. I had been more comfortable naked.

The telemin halo I’d fashioned out of Renn’s etheriumalloy body had turned out unexpectedly well. The external screening and impact cage was almost three feet in diameter; the bowed centering struts screwed into Renn’s skull had enough flex to provide effective shock absorption. I daresay within this halo, Renn was in no danger of impact damage; I could have bounced him like a rubber ball without doing more than making him dizzy. The six carry handles I had built onto the impact cage’s exterior projected far enough to prevent the halo from rolling on any surface less than a thirty-degree incline, and I certainly wouldn’t be placing Renn’s head on any slope steeper than that. He was too valuable.

A few more threads of pure etherium, similar to the one that kept him asleep, inserted into other parts of his brain allowed me to directly access his entire perceptual system-which was, I discovered, unexpectedly impressive. In addition to being able to see, smell, hear, taste, and feel what was in front of him, he could do the same with objects that were only potentially present, as well as objects that were long gone. Though as the interval increased, perception dimmed, it was still a useful talent.

Most interesting of all was his ability to see sideways in time. With the expenditure of considerable mana-easily done, given my current plenitude of etherium-he (and I, through him) could directly perceive the consequence of any given choice or string of choices, as the temporal streams bifurcated outward from each decision point. The more probable any given potential time line was, the easier it was to see.

It did not take much power at all to see time lines where Renn had won the fight.

I had decided not to tell Baltrice what would have happened to her if we’d lost. If she had so much as a hint, I could never have stopped her from killing Renn, and I was going to need him to navigate the Labyrinth.

Having left intact the magics that sustained his life and healed his injuries, I anticipated a virtually unlimited potential use-life for my Rennoscope (Rennscanner? Rennometer?). All his physical needs provided by the magics, he might well survive a century or more, which was far longer than I would need him.

Someday, perhaps, if I found myself in a sentimental mood, I might decide to rebuild him into a man. It was possible.

But not likely.

Once she had finished up, Baltrice rode her gravity sled over to where I sat with Renn’s head. She slid off and mopped sooty sweat from her face with a grimy sleeve. “Well, that’s it. Probably more inside, but no trouble. I got to tell you, I still don’t understand why our army of necromancers didn’t whip out a few thousand nasty beasties to piss on my bonfire.”

“You will. Patience.”

“Is that all you have to say about it? Patience?”

“It’s an underrated virtue.”

“Tell you what, then: you keep all of yours and take mine too. What there is of it.” She propped her hands on her hips and stared back at the featureless, opalescent enormity of the Labyrinth. “What now? Straight in?”

“No.”

“You have a better idea?”

“Usually.”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t think anything I can do will affect the structure itself. The walls don’t even pick up soot.”

“It’s not ordinary crystal. I’m not sure it’s physical.”

“Huh?”

I let one shoulder twitch in half a shrug. “It has occurred to me that if Renn’s hypotemporal shield trick were to be made a great deal more powerful-if time never passed at all at its surface, or nearly so-it could, theoretically, look like that.”

She shook her head. “Glad I’m not the one who has to figure stuff out around here.”

“You do very well at it, though. How’s your back?” I had adapted the autohealing magic Renn had built into his body to treat our various wounds-an imperfect solution, but the best we had.

She worked her shoulders back and forth a few times, then shrugged. “It hurts. But it’s not gonna kill me. How’s your face?”

“Likewise.” I gave her a lopsided smile, which was the best I could do around the swollen bruises and barely closed cuts that covered most of my head. Two of my teeth were loose enough that they might fall out before I had time to repair my jaw, but the long-term effects of the rest of my injuries would be only scars. “It hurts.”

As did my hands, my legs, my guts, and virtually every other part of my body to which I could put a name.

“Bruises and a couple new scars? Small enough price to pay for living through a scrape like that,” she said. “I won’t forget what you did today, Tezzeret. You didn’t have to come back for me. You went in knowing what he could do. Put yourself between him and me. I’m not sure I would have done the same for you.”

“If I’d left you there, I’d be dead now. Or soon.” It seemed wisest to avoid elaborating further.

“Well, I’m grateful anyway, huh?” She looked down at Renn’s head, and nudged the telemin halo with her drakeskin boot. “He dead yet?”

“No. I need him alive.”

“Isn’t he kind of excitable, though? Loses his head in a crisis, right? He like, y’ know, flies off the-”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t mock him,” I said. “Please.”

“Why in the hells not? You think he wouldn’t be gloating over us if this had gone the other way?”

“His behavior isn’t my concern. Mine is.”

“You seem pretty concerned about my behavior.”

“I’m not. But allowing you to taunt him would be rude.”

She flexed her shoulders and thrust her chin out toward me pugnaciously. “And if I decide I feel like doing a victory fandango up and down that back-shooting bastard’s face, just exactly how do you figure to stop me?”

“By asking you not to,” I said. “Politely.”

She glared at me for about a second, which was as long as she could hold the glare before she cracked a smile. “You are some piece of work,” she said, shaking her head and chuckling. “You really are.”

“Compliments on my design and construction should be addressed to Nicol Bolas.”

“I wonder if he knows exactly what he’s got here. Something tells me that behind that deadpan of yours, you’ve got a surprise or two for him, too.”

This didn’t seem to call for a reply. Out from a pocket in my magicked clothing I brought the etherium thumb ring I had made for her. “Here.”

She took it from my hand. “Jewelry? Are you sure it’s time to take our relationship to that level?”

“You can wear that on your thumb-or, I suppose, given the size of your hands, on your fourth finger.”

“What’s it do?”

“It’s a locator, that’s all. When I’m done, I’ll signal. You’ll know it’s me because the ring will light up and tingle. It will direct you to wherever I am. It’s etherium; it’ll never run out of power.”

“When you’re done?” She flushed, and tiny flames began to flicker in her eyes. “What, is this the brush-off? The Take a Festering Hike, Fat Bitch?”

“It’s a promise,” I said. “You have done everything I’ve asked of you, and more. You have earned Jace Beleren’s freedom. Even if I fail. Even if I die.”

I lifted my own hand to show her the matching ring I wore on my left thumb. “Your ring will lead you to this one, wherever it might be. If necessary, your ring is encoded with a summoning that will draw mine to you if I am dead or it is lost. Even if I am not available to do so myself, bringing the two rings together will impart the secret of safely removing the device from his brain.”

“Yeah?” She looked at me sidelong, measuring. “Maybe I should, y’know, bring them together right now. Save myself the trip.”

“Despite having done a stupid thing or two in the past few days, I’m not an idiot. I’ll prepare my ring when you are far, far away. As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t want us to fight. I would be sorry if I killed you, and sorrier if you killed me.”

She stared in open disbelief. “You want me to just trust you on this?”

“Yes,” I said. “Is that a problem?”

“Well… damn. I don’t know. It sure as hell ought to be.” She sighed and lowered herself to the sand beside me. “You are without a doubt the damnedest sonofabitch it’s ever been my dubious pleasure to meet. Probably should’ve roasted you back in Tidehollow.”

I nodded. “I’ve enjoyed working with you again.”

“You say that like you mean it.”

“Because I do.”

“Crazy thing is, I actually kind of believe you.” She slipped the ring onto her finger and held out her hand to admire it. “Goes with my hair, huh?”

“That hadn’t occurred to me,” I said, “but I suppose it does. Baltrice, I have something to tell you. We may not meet again, and there is one thing I truly do hope that you will believe about me.”

She gave me that sidelong look again. “Is this where you profess undying love? Save it. You’re not exactly the guy of my dreams.”

“Baltrice.” I laid my hand on hers. She let me. “I like to imagine that Jace Beleren knows how fine a friend he has in you. I hope he does; I certainly do. And I want you to know that I hope I might, someday, deserve a friend who cares as much for me.”

She flushed and looked away. “Tezzeret… come on. What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. I just want you to know. And I want you to believe that I mean you no harm.”

“That sounds like trouble.”

“It’s not impossible.”

She heaved herself to her feet and turned to face me. “I guess this is so long, then. Shame I can’t take the sled. Handy little gadget.”

“I need the etherium.”

“Yeah, I know. Look, Tezzeret, I’m not so good with the whole farewell thing. It’ll just take me a minute or two to shift off-plane-”

“I have two more gifts for you.” I pulled the navigator out of the same pocket. “It has a concealed catch-just here, do you see? Press it like this and the device opens.”

“It’s a locket.”

“It’s a navigator. Very much like your ring, actually. Single use, I’m afraid, but I think you’ll appreciate having it. If there is someone you need to find, for any reason, all you have to do is take something of them and secure it inside. Any sort of tissue sample will do-a drop of blood, a hair, even a fingernail paring. The navigator will show you where that person is and help you chart a path to him. Or her. It’s very effective, as long as your target is not using some rather advanced types of magical concealment. It works best on someone who doesn’t know you’re after them.”

“Target?” she said warily. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about my third gift, part of which will be a transit gate to what I believe is an apartment in Bant. I think you might be interested in going there because, as recently as this morning, our necromancer was there.”

“Necromancer? One?” She looked suspicious and appalled at the same time. She threw her arms wide, to encompass the soot and smoke and ash throughout the Netherglass. “This was all from one guy?”

“Not a guy,” I said. “If you had the chance to scour the entire Multiverse for one particular necromancer’s ass to slow roast in the deepest furnace in Grixis, who would that necromancer be?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding?” Her teeth came out, and in her eyes was only flame. “Are you festering kidding me?”

“Not about this,” I said. “I’m no fan of hers myself.”

“Your gift is a shot at her?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“Oh, man, if I had any way to tell you…” She shrugged herself into full blaze. I had to raise a hand to shield my face from her heat. “Get to work on that gate, bud. I need to pick up my ride.”

She stuck two fingers in her mouth and unleashed an ear-stabbing shriek of a whistle that would have done credit to a Vectis dragon-raid siren. Up over the white monolith of a Labyrinth hall soared the wickedly gleaming sinuous body of an etherium drake. A few powerful wing beats sent it toward us in a steep dive.

The choking noise I made was the sound of my trying not to swallow my tongue.

Baltrice grinned at me. “They’re not all bad. Some of ’em are just, y’know, misunderstood.”

Realizing my mouth was hanging open, I shut it with a clack that sent a white jolt of pain through my loosened teeth.

The e-drake landed a few meters away. Baltrice ambled over to it, spreading her arms, and I found myself in the preposterous position of witnessing something I could never even hint about without being named a liar or a madman. The etherium drake settled down onto the sand, folded its wings, and laid its head on Baltrice’s shoulder.

“Good boy.” She patted the back of its skull, and I heard a low, metallic grinding sound that might actually have been the creature purring.

“I call him Mr. Shinypants,” she said, happy and fierce at once. “That gate, huh?”

Night falls suddenly in most deserts, but the Netherglass now had twilight of a sort: the light of the setting sun reflecting downward by the dark cloud of zombie smoke, casting a dully bloody glow upon the Crystal Labyrinth.

And upon me.

The color was essentially identical to the sangrite glow in the cavern; a simple fact, noted without consideration of coincidence or teleology. If it turned out to be relevant, I’d think about it then. I had no interest in noon or midnight, day, night, or anything in between. I did not feel the weather, and my vision had nothing to do with light.

I sat on the sand of powdered glass in the center of the Labyrinth, my legs folded beneath me, and on my knees the head of Silas Renn.

I cannot say how long I sat there. Days, at least. Months? Years? There is no way to know. At some point, my injuries healed. I didn’t notice. The power I drew from the vast wealth of etherium at my command relieved me of any need to eat, drink, or eliminate, and it did so without requiring the intervention of my attention or any fraction of my consciousness at all. I needed all my consciousness for something else.

I was watching myself solve the Labyrinth.

By tapping into Renn’s temporal perception, I could trace the probability-ghosts of myself entering the Labyrinth, and once inside, my own knack for rhabdomancy enabled me to track them by the etherium they-I-carried. Will carry. Potentially. Every twist, every turn, every ascent, descent, or jump.

While I did so, I used a knack from my days at the Mechanists’ Guild to make my hands automatically pull from the etherium around me a series of thin wires, bending, twisting, and occasionally breaking each as I worked them into precise three-dimensional representations-models-of every path I saw myselves take. My long, long experience with precision ensured that these models would depict each path exactly. I had no need to model the Labyrinth itself; the paths were all that mattered.

I had built around myself a pair of rings, constructed so that the lower served as a base in the sand, while the upper could rotate freely along it. At twelve precise intervals around the movable ring, I had affixed a tall cross of etherium wire. The crux of each one marked the entryway of one of the great halls of the Labyrinth. The cross piece marked ground level. Each pin became the anchor for a worked-wire chart of all possible pathways branching from that entrance. By rotating the ring, I could bring any given hall before me without having to shift my own position.

For a maze, that would have sufficed; a three-dimensional solution for a three-dimensional problem. This, however, was a four-dimensional problem.

At least.

Because, after all, it only looked like a maze. It was a Labyrinth. It became a maze-a deadly one-for any who entered unprepared. I would not be one of these.

Preparation is my specialty.

As I worked, I discovered paths that could join two or more others that had seemed to lead to dead ends. Using a slightly thinner, shinier wire to connect magical transit points-where a path might leap from the top of one hall to the bottom of another-I began to join every hall to every other in multiply iterated pathways, nearly identical… but each and every one unique…

The space around me was almost half full of the etherium web work when I discovered the pattern.

I could see it: a mathematical purity that words cannot describe, an elegance that transcended language… I could predict, now, the shape and length of the next wire, and what points it would join. More than predict. See.

Know.

Soon I could see two wires ahead, then five, then a dozen…

Then all of it.

I saw what my model would become. This wasn’t Renn’s power. It had nothing to do with time; this was form and function, stripped to the deep structure of matter itself. I saw the future not with prescience, but with experience. I knew where each strand must be placed and what each wire must connect, for the model to make sense.

“To make sense” is actually an expression for how I experience natural law.

That is: truth.

This experience-this knowing-flowed out from me, directing my hands to assemble the half-dreamed vision in my heart. The impossibly perfect structure of the etherium matrix enfolded me, enwrapped me, joined around and above me like the vault of a cathedral.

I had trained my entire life simply to see this. To do this. To make this.

To be this.

My hands stopped. My eyes froze open. I could not dream of moving. Could not dream of breathing. Could not imagine being anywhere but here.

Ever.

I saw without sight, heard without sound, smelled without scent, felt without touch. Kneeling within this heartbreakingly perfect sanctum that was the only possible answer to the question of my existence, I thought: What do you say without saying? And discovered the answer was obvious.

The joining of mechanics and time… is a clock.

Crucius…

The interpenetrating structure I had built around myself-the etherium model of the relational matrix of the twelve Halls around me-was perfect. Was inevitable. Was impossible.

Was context.

What makes a clock work is the engineering of its mechanics. What makes it beautiful is the elegance of its construction. What makes it perfect is the precision of its heart.

There is no heart more precise than mine. I had no need to find the center of the Crystal Labyrinth. I was the center.

I had become the hands of the clock.

What I said without saying was I am here.

And I was.

Forever.