Tezzeret tried to imagine what a blow like that would do to Glissa, or Geth for that matter. Tezzeret knew what he would do if Karn tried it with him: he’d throttle the life out of the mad bastard, no matter how much he respected his craftsmanship. Or at least he’d try. The truth was that Tezzeret loved what Karn was. Karn, the creator of planes and organizer of metals. To see such a magnificent artificer brought to that kind of subjugation was a blemish on what it meant to bend metal.
“Leave him be,” Tezzeret said. “There squats the creator of Mirrodin,” Tezzeret said, suddenly serious. “Neither of you have sung metals to form, have given everything you are to be great. You do not have the right to be in the same room with him.”
“But you do?” Glissa said.
“I have stolen, killed, and scraped for the ability to create etherium. Nobody ever gave me an ounce of value. I took it and now I am one of very few to control this great metal that is essence.”
“Are you finished, philosopher?” Glissa said.
“You promised me I would have a force of my own,” Tezzeret said through unsmiling lips.
“I did, didn’t I?” Glissa said. “But who trusts the word of a Phyrexian? Honor is a social construct. We do not follow constructs. We follow hunger. Anyway, who are we kidding? You want more than a force, you want an army. You have been building an army. We know this. We have been watching.”
A force of ten Phyrexians slinked through the far door. They were each one worked through with patina- covered copper, with gray muscle herniating out between the gaps in the jagged structure. Their eyes were black and dripping.
“You can steal, kill, and scrape your way to the settlement with my minions. “You will find these harder to control than your blue ones,” Glissa promised. “Now go.”
Geth made to follow Tezzeret.
“No, Geth,” Glissa said. “You stay. We will discuss what to do with enemies of the oil.”
Geth grinned as Tezzeret passed.
“Symptoms of our cage!” Karn bellowed.
As Tezzeret left the chamber, he heard Karn’s silver fingertips scraping the metal floor.
Chapter 7
The middle hole dropped them, as though in free fall. They had found the holes lined up one after the other and as each smelled as dank and foul as another, they chose the middle one. Much of the time Venser felt like he was traveling upside down. Some of the turns were so abrupt that his elbows slammed into the side of the strangely flexible tube. Other times the tube traveled straight. At one point the tube traveled straight for so long they actually stopped moving and had to crawl until they began to slide.
The speed picked up quickly and continued that way for so long that Venser seriously considered teleporting away. Yet still the speed increased, the turns coming one after the other without warning. Venser could hear Koth muttering as they skidded through the tunnel. Before long, even the usually quiet Elspeth began to bellow and bang her heels on the tube. Finally the chute dumped them in an unceremonious heap on the smooth floor of another vast room, gasping and blinking and stunned in the light.
Unlike any other room Venser had seen under Mirrodin, the room was bright. Very bright. It was as if its own sun had risen and sat directly overhead. They struggled to their feet and wandered, blinded, holding each other’s sleeves like children, until Venser bumped into a wall and they all put their backs to its coolness and slid down onto the floor.
“Can you see?” Koth said.
“No,” Venser said at last. When he opened his eyes the light hurt deep in his head. Still, he had hoped Elspeth would respond so he could gauge just how disturbed the tube had made her. From the sound of her cries as they slid, Venser wanted to know if she had come unhinged.
“Hold up your hand,” Koth said. “Peer through the cracks between your fingers.”
Venser brought up his filthy hand and rested it on his brow. Through the space between his middle and first fingers he was able to see without the sharp pain.
The ball of light was still blazing in the ceiling. The floor continued to vibrate. Sometimes the vibrations were more and sometimes less. But the light that burned down on them was as constant as any machine.
“My job in their prison,” Elspeth said in a voice made rough by her prolonged bawl in the tube, “was to cut down the bodies the Phyrexians left behind. They liked to play and experiment and do other things. They would drive spikes through the space between the heel and tendon and hang their victims upside down. It was a prison.”
“Yes,” Venser said. “You told us that.”
“No, I mean for Phyrexians,” Elspeth said. “They took our parts for themselves. They are nothing more than perverse machines that want to masquerade as flesh and blood creatures, so they dress in our muscles, skin, and viscera.”
“They imprison their own?” Koth said after a time.
“Yes. The imprisoned ones experimented on us to keep quiet. At night they were mostly locked in their own cages by other Phyrexians.”
“That is fascinating,” Venser said. “And how did they treat prisoners of their own kind, the Phyrexians?”
“With deference, almost kindness, if that is possible,” Elspeth said. “If one of the prisoners was especially wild, some of the guards would collect around the door and sing to him.”
“Sing?”
“Well,” Elspeth said, “it did not sound like our singing. It was terrifying to hear.”
“So you were a distraction?” Koth said.
“Yes. A distraction.”
“And how are you here standing before us?” Koth said.
“Have some respect,” Venser said.
But Elspeth put a gloved hand on Koth’s shoulder. “Perhaps they did not prefer children? I do not know why. I ask myself that question quite often.”
Koth nodded before turning and gazing between his fingers at the scene. Venser waited to hear if Elspeth said anything more about her time in the Phyrexian prison. When she didn’t continue, Venser had a look at their surroundings-a truly vast space with flat floor and the light beating down. Venser could make out neither form nor the far-off shapes of doors. “I can’t see anything out there,” he said.
“Me neither,” Koth said. “But I will tell you one thing. Without water we’ll be hard pressed to last long in this room.”
“Do you feel that vibration?” Elspeth said.
“Yes.”
“That sound concerns me. It stops and starts.”
“Let us see,” Venser said.
With their hands resting on their brows, they walked forward in no particular direction. There were no landmarks so one direction was as good as any other. As they walked, their footfalls echoed away in the absolute stillness, punctuated by the sudden vibrations.
“Do you suppose those are the echoes from our feet returning to us?” Elspeth said. Once again, the quavering edge to her voice alarmed Venser.
“I thought of that,” Venser said, “but no. Those vibrations are something else. They are not regular enough to be our footfalls.”
They continued their march. The blinding light above their heads never moved, so it was difficult to tell how long they had been walking, but it would have been half of the day’s movement of a normal sun. Finally the heat became so much that they stopped on the flat plain. Elspeth, who had the only water flask, shared what drops she had, but it was not enough. They walked again.
When Koth stopped grumbling, Venser started to worry. The ground was still flat and hot and the edges of the room were not within view.
