“I’m not toying with you,” Moonlight said. “This is an audition.”
Marasi blinked.What?
“Until a little while ago,” Moonlight continued, “I assumed we had months to unravel the Set’s plan.” She tapped her armrest with a fingernail, then looked at her bag, where the rubbings she’dtaken were peeking out.
During their short time working together, Marasi had started to see Moonlight as all-knowing—someone mysterious, alien. But that concern in her eyes, the way she was fighting uncertainty… that was all too human.
“I’ll let you into the safehouse,” Moonlight finally said. “And deal with the ramifications later, if this proves to all be another of Autonomy’s shadow games. But I’m not sure I can give you everything you want.
“We don’t have the caverns in the city mapped, but we do watch theiragents.” She patted her bag, and the rubbings. “This lists coordinates of the explosions. So if we compare where the blasts have been happening with the places where Set agents appear and vanish…”
“… We might be able to find a way into their testing facility,” Marasi said. “I did something similar to locate that cavern under Elendel.”
“I remember when all this started to hit me,” Moonlight said softly. “When my world expanded, and my personal squabbles—even the ones that influenced the fates of empires—suddenly became so small. You’re doing remarkably well.”
“My life,” Marasi said, “has mostly been expanses of quiet humdrum punctuated by sudden explosions—usually literal ones—of activity. I’m used to working under pressure.”
“And dealing with gods?” Moonlight said. “Fighting their influence?”
“Well, we have one on our own side, after all.”
“Kind of,” Moonlight said. “Harmony isn’t terribly reliable these days. At least not in the ways my mentor would prefer. It’s less like having a god on your side—and more like having a powerful referee who only sometimes pays attention to your fight.”
“Or an observer,” Marasi said, “who you’re sure could do more to help, but doesn’t for some baffling reason.”
“Yes, like…” Moonlight narrowed her eyes. “Point made. Here, we’re approaching the safehouse. Hopefully the Survivor hasn’t returned unexpectedly. My mentor isn’t always reasonable when it comes to people he sees as Harmony’s agents, and might respond… poorly.”
37
Wayne had read a real interesting book once about a fellow what went back in time. It had happened because he’dturned on too many electric switches at once. That was ridiculous, but the book had been written when electricity had been new—so it was forgivable. People had thought some funny stuff about electricity back then. Wayne himself had tried to fill a bucket with it once.
He found himself thinking of that story as he scoured the nearby alleys for signs of the Set’s agents. See, the book had been all about how changing the past was this dangerous thing. The fellow in it had broken some branches off a tree, and when he’dreturned to the future, his father had liked eating butter on his sandwiches instead of mayo. Also, sapient lions had ruled the city.
Wayne had thought there was something… off about the story. When he’dmentioned it to friends, Nod had told him of another one with the same idea, where a fellow was sent back in time through the intricacies of indoor plumbing and an unfortunately large flush. Andhehad changed things by eating a bagel, then returned to discover that everybody spoke backward and no one wore shirts anymore.
This book had been better than the first one on account of it having more cussing—plus the no-shirts part being universally applied andverydescriptively relayed—but still, Wayne found the idea uncomfortable.
He traded a beggar—unbeknownst to the fellow—a stack of cash fora dirty handkerchief; Wayne liked it on account of it havin’ a little bunny sewn in the corner. He was starting to figure out why those stories bothered him. They had this sense that changing the future was frightening and dangerous.
But didn’t people change it every day?
Wayne wondered regarding the choices people made. Rushing through their lives eating bagels, breaking twigs. Each of them changing the future. Shouldn’t they all… worry about that a little more? Worry how they were changing the future right now, rather than writing books about people doing it in the past? Even if they couldn’t know some things, there was a lot they could anticipate. They might not make that future have talking lions or whatnot—but they might make it have angrier, sadder people.
Maybe stories about fellows quietly making the world better were just too dull. Sounded boring, actually. Maybe if the people in them wore no shirts…
A hand wrapped around Wayne’s mouth from behind. He almost killed the fellow—but it smelled like Wax, so…
Yup, it was Wax. The man eased Wayne back into an alleyway, then pulled him down beside some rubbish as someone passed on the street. Telsin, searching around, annoyed.
After she was gone, Wax removed his hand.
“You let her go?” Wayne whispered.
“Call me crazy—”
“You’re crazy.”
“—but it feels more like I escaped.” Wax nodded his head in the other direction and they snuck away.