“You’re proposing your own Concern.”
“I don’t know what to call it. Something between a Concern and a holy order. We’ll take soulstuff from Concerns like RKC and use it to build bridges with the gods. Maybe we can even use it directly, to heal the soil, repair a water table, stop a war.”
“You’re not a Craftsman. You’ve never built a Concern. You have little experience, and no skill.”
“We’ll find Craftsmen. Specialists. And they’ll come to us. People understand this problem, even if they try to ignore it. When we give them a chance to help, they will. The business side, relationship building, all that—you’re right, it’s not my strength. That’s why I hope Teo will take a leave of absence and help me.” He was gratified to see her eyes widen in surprise, and interest.
“I’d have to think about it,” she said, with a note of wonder—at the concept, he hoped, not her own agreement. She glanced from the King in Red beside her, back to Caleb. “It sounds … fascinating. Worth a try.”
Kopil interlaced his fingers. Bone clicked against bone.
Caleb sat, and the city rebuilt itself behind him. Re-raise. “Sir. I’m not asking for much. Help. Advice. Support. The risks are too high for you to turn me away. We survived this battle, barely, but there’s always another. We can’t just crush every rebel who wants to sacrifice someone on that altar. We need to build a world where nobody needs to sacrifice. A world that will survive longer than the few more decades we can eke out, the way we’re going.”
Kopil bowed his head. “Help. Advice. Support.”
“And power. Give me soulstuff, without precondition. Like before.”
Two points of flame met Caleb’s gaze. “To heal the world.”
“Yes.”
“Where would you start?”
Screams beneath smooth water. “Seven Leaf Lake.”
The band played jazz into twilight. The future unrolled like a strip of parchment, so long it narrowed to a point at the horizon. Kopil inhaled over his teeth, though he had no lungs. “Have you thought of a name?”
“No.”
“Choose one that rolls off the tongue. Red King Consolidated was a mistake—monolithic, impersonal. How about the Twin Serpents Group? Catchy, and there’s a story behind it. People like stories.”
“I’ll think it over.”
Kopil extended his hand. “Do what you claim you can, Caleb Altemoc. If you don’t succeed, you’ll probably die.”
“It won’t come to that, sir,” Caleb said.
Salt breeze from the Pax ruffled his hair. The city surrounded him: music from Andrej’s band, muffled conversation from the bar, cries of construction workers on the pyramid across the way.
He took the King in Red’s hand.
Power struck him, filled him, shone through his scars. The long scroll of history began to write itself.
He did not know what he was doing. But sometimes, when you didn’t know, you had to bluff.
He looked Kopil in the eye and grinned.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people offered comments on various versions of this book, among them, alphabetically: Alana Abbott, Christopher Ashley, Vladimir Barash, John Chu, Anne Cross, Amy Eastment, Miguel Garcia, Tom and Burki Gladstone, Dan Hammond, David Hartwell, Weronika Janczuk, Kristin Janz, Marlys Jarstfer, Siana LaForest, Lauren Marino, Sarah Miller, Stephanie Neely, Marco Palmieri, Margaret Ronald, and Marshall Weir. Failures to heed their warnings and advice are, as always, mine. Thanks to all my friends and family for their love, support, and patience.
And especially to Steph, best friend, constant companion, dearest love. She has not, yet, tried to destroy the world, for which my thanks.
