way-your strand gets braided back into the main cable and everything proceeds as usual. But a clockworker adept can sense the nearest strands of other main lines and decide which one he wants to be in. In other words, he can pick and choose the outcome he wants, and move himself into the time line where that’s what happens. And he can take you with him.”
“Wow.”
“Yes. The only limitations of clockworking are the power of the adept and the dictates of probability-the more improbable the outcome the adept is looking for, the more power it takes to get himself into that alternate line. Even though it’s not something he can pull off on the spur of the moment, the only real defense against a good clockworker is another clockworker.”
“And he got here first,” Baltrice said, “and brought all his friends.”
“Yes.”
“And he knows we’re coming, so he’s had time to prepare.”
“Yes.”
“And he might be inclined to be a little stern with both of us.”
“That’s it. See any holes?”
“Other than the bleeding ones that are about to start opening up all over both our bodies?” She stood for a long moment, staring grimly at the stark reality clustered at the bottom of the Netherglass. When finally she spoke again, her voice was hoarse and harsh. “This was what you were talking about, when you said you won’t survive.”
“Not specifically.”
“How about we walk away? Just pitch it. Because I’m looking down there, Tezzeret, and all I’m seeing is an assload of undead that you and I will probably be joining. I think we are way out of our league.”
“I can’t walk away.”
“That you talking, or Doc?”
“Doc is silent on the subject,” I said. “He doesn’t want to die any more than I do-but he also can’t let me back off. You, on the other hand, are under no obligation to perish at our side.”
“I don’t suppose you’d be interested in popping back to Vectis to pull your doohickey out of Beleren’s brain first, would you?”
I only looked at her.
“Sure, what did I expect?” she said. “You’re not the merciful type.”
“More merciful than he was,” I said. “He’s alive. And he may yet be whole and hale.”
“If we win.”
“Yes. If we win.”
She took a deep, deep breath as though about to take a plunge to black water, without knowing whether she’d ever breathe again. Finally she let it out in a gust, shook the kinks out of her shoulders, and said, “All right. Let’s do it.”
“Baltrice-”
“Shut up, Tezzeret. I mean it. Shut up because whatever you’re about to say, I really don’t want to hear.”
I stood in silence.
Eventually, she turned to me. “You have a plan, right? Tell me you have a plan.”
I said, “I have a plan.”
THE METAL ISLAND
Still reclining upon the etherium sand, the ancient dragon snorted another gust of greasy, meat-scented smoke. “What a pathetic creature you are.”
Tezzeret smiled. “Flatterer.”
“You spew egomania like a sneeze sprays snot. Except snot tastes better,” Bolas said. “Maybe you should kill me now. Put me out of your misery.”
“If death is what you’re looking for, you need only wait,” Tezzeret said. “Or, I suppose, ask me nicely.”
The dragon rolled his eyes and took a deep breath in an apparent attempt to control exasperation. “Do you understand just how preposterously self-centered your whole theory of reality is, you demented little gutter monkey? ‘Oooh, Crucius did everything just for meeeee…’ ‘Oooh, Rennnn’s waiting there to spank me!’ Revolting.”
“Thank you.”
“You did understand, even back there, that for your theory to be accurate, Crucius would have had to anticipate not only your brains getting scrambled by Beleren-all right, to be fair, anyone who knows the two of you saw that one coming-but he would have had to somehow make me glue your pieces back together and strong-arm you into looking for him in the first place.”
“When you put it that way, it does seem unlikely,” Tezzeret said mildly. “And yet, here I am.”
“Not because Crucius planned it this way.”
“As soon as the Grand Hegemon departs,” Tezzeret said with a casual wave toward the cloud of etherium- colored mist that still enveloped Sharuum and the Metal Sphinx together, “you are welcome to ask him.”
“Like I actually believe any of this.”
“I can say with considerable certainty that at this moment, nothing in any universe depends upon whether you believe in it or not,” Tezzeret replied. “I knew an Ethersworn monk once, who made it a practice to believe six impossible things before breakfast; if he could manage only five, he stayed in bed.”
“Baltrice was right,” Bolas muttered. “You’ve spent too much time around sphinxes.”
“Disquieting, isn’t it?” Tezzeret smiled thoughtfully toward the great statue. “I may be coming to understand how they think.”
“Tezzeret.” The musical harmonics of the Grand Hegemon’s voice wafted from the cloud like audible incense. “We are finished.”
Tezzeret raised a hand, and the cloud faded. Sharuum backed way from the Metal Sphinx as though unwilling to take her eyes from its etherium face. “You have done all that was asked of you, and more. The word of a sphinx is not lightly given, nor can it be broken. As promised, all that I have is yours, to keep or to abandon, to build or to destroy.”
Tezzeret said gravely, “Thank you.”
“Is this a joke?” The dragon’s scaly jaw dropped toward the sand while the rest of him was in the process of rising. “Did she just give you the plane?”
“Part of one.”
“It’s a pretty nice thank-you gift.”
“Yes.” He looked up at Bolas, who now towered over him. “Sit.”
The dragon glowered down at him, but sat.
“Stay.” Tezzeret walked toward Sharuum. “I will return you now to our land.”
“Must you? I had… hoped… I might abide here. For… company.”
“You cannot,” Tezzeret said. “You have given yourself to me, per our bargain, and this is my will: that you return to Esper and rule as you always have, that you place your great wisdom in service to our land and all who call it home, and that you treat all of my possessions as your own.”
The great sphinx stared down at him, uncomprehending, silent with astonishment.
“If I should chance to change my mind,” he said through his thin smile, “I’ll let you know.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and she lowered her head until Tezzeret might have touched her mask-shield with his hand. “Your gracious nature confounds me, Tezzeret,” she piped solemnly. “I do not know how to address you with proper honor, as the master of my life and all I possess.”
“If you choose to address me by any word other than my name,” he said, “I would be honored to be called
