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-
