Tartarus? Now there’s a figure you bring up if you want to give people nightmares.
“The humans on this world know about the Cognizant and rightfully blame us for the desolation,” Hekima continues, pointing at the endless dunes. “They wait by the gates to catch one of our kind, and if they succeed, they do horrific things to them.”
Right on cue, the two men start to cannibalize their catch.
That’s just great. The nightmares are guaranteed now. At school, we also learned to be careful traveling in the Otherlands, but it didn’t require such theatrics.
Hekima keeps on talking about the doom and gloom of the Otherlands as I walk over to where Valerian is sitting.
“The point I’m trying to make is really simple,” Hekima is saying when I pay attention to him again. “Be very careful when traveling to the Otherlands, and do not enter any gates unless you’re absolutely sure where they lead.” The horrific scenes repeat in quick succession. “Even if you think you know the gate is safe, I strongly advise you think twice before entering, and definitely wait until—”
I ignore the rest.
There’s a folder next to Valerian I hadn’t noticed before.
Icelus Suspects, the label says.
When Valerian opens the folder, a picture of Hekima is on top of the papers inside. Looking between the picture and the real man, Valerian writes on the paper below, “Eighty percent sure.”
Wow. Hekima was Icelus? It would explain why he made this lesson so scary—and is consistent with his murdering personality.
“We’re almost out of time.” Hekima looks at his watch. “Does anyone have any questions?”
Valerian leaps to his feet.
Princess Peach raises her hand, nearly jumping out of her seat in excitement. Hekima calls on her.
Someone whispers something like “teacher’s pet,” but she ignores them as she rattles out, “Who made the gates? Who discovered the Otherlands? When? How? Could—”
In reply, Hekima goes into the same theory we learned on Gomorrah—that the gates were made by legendary, powerful teleporters dubbed the gate makers. He then suggests the obvious—that there are probably worlds without the Cognizant, left as sanctuaries, or worlds where Cognizant exist but don’t have gates that allow them to leave.
Finally, he gets up and walks to the door without waiting for any follow-up questions. Princess Peach raises her hand again but puts it down when Hekima leaves the class, with Valerian following.
Outside the classroom, Valerian stalks Hekima to his destination, a small apartment.
Checking his watch again, Hekima plops into his bed.
Wait, what? Why was he in such a rush to take a nap?
Valerian shakes his head, takes out his folder, and changes the probability to ninety percent.
I almost reveal myself so I can ask Valerian why sleeping on a tight schedule might make someone more likely to be a part of Icelus, but I resist.
And it’s a good thing I do.
The Orientation dream stops, but another one begins, again a memory.
A nearly naked Valerian is sitting on a wooden slab in a large windowless room, with sweat beading on his hard-muscled body.
Yum. I like where this is going. Not that I have many options but to keep observing what happens next—the black window is missing. Then again, it might be around, but I can’t see it. It’s so steamy in the room—in the literal sense—that it’s barely possible to see a foot away. This is clearly a sauna, a nightmare invention for those of us who care about proper hygiene.
“Illusionist,” says the vapor around the room in a melodious, Russian-accented masculine voice.
“Seer,” Valerian replies, looking around. “You might want to show yourself.”
With a whoosh, the vapor gathers in a single spot a few yards away from Valerian.
Valerian wipes a stream of sweat from his eyes, and by the time he completes the gesture, the vapor is gone, replaced by a man covered only by a small towel.
Tangled blond hair and wild beard aside, this man is almost as impressive as Valerian himself. If I hadn’t heard him be referred to as a seer, I’d guess him to be an uber.
Wait a sec. A seer. There are a couple of different varieties of them, but all are among the rarest Cognizant types—up there with dragons and healers.
The seer tugs on his beard. “You’re wise to heed my summons. I have to repay the favor I owe you today.”
Valerian wipes a rivulet of sweat from his brow. “You do?”
“After this conversation, you and I will never meet again,” the seer says solemnly.
“Right.” Valerian shakes his head. “And I take it you already know what I’m going to ask?”
“I know all the things you considered asking.” The seer grabs a nearby ladle, dips it into a water bucket, and pours water into a stove-like contraption nearby. With a hiss, more vapor fills the room. “You want to know how to get rid of Hekima, the newest Icelus agent you’ve found,” the seer continues. “And you want to do it in such a way that it can never be linked back to you—which is difficult due to your obvious ambition to take Hekima’s place on the New York Council.”