Page 14 of The Book that Broke the World

Malar, on the other hand, went forward to meet the construct’s advance on the trapped canith. The soldier ran at the closest ankle with a roar of frustration, sword swinging. When the blade passed through the body of one of the clinging skeer on the way, then bounced off the metal ankle beneath, Malar was so surprised that the construct’s next step sent him flying.

The impact probably should have broken bones, but Malar rolled to a halt halfway into the corridor wall and got unsteadily to his feet, his survival implying some sort of muted contact, as if the construct was half-real to ghosts.

Suddenly it occurred to Livira that perhaps the giant hadn’t been chasing Evar at all, but had instead been going after her. As the thing’s vast metal hand reached down for them Livira scrambled away from Evar, hoping to draw the clutching fingers after her.

Instead, the door beside them melted away and she found herself on her hands and knees at the feet of an assistant. She stood up slowly and watched amazed as the assistant sent the skeer away and then ordered the construct after them. The hot, angry light of the construct’s eyes rested on Livira for a moment before it turned away, leaving her with the strong impression that unfinished business remained between them. Livira watched the thing clank off down the corridor while Evar and his siblings tried to get answers out of the assistant. They got about as much as might be expected, which was to say they got the direction to leave by and not much else.

Livira turned from the retreating construct to study the assistant that had stopped its rampage.

Evar’s sister was leading him away towards the next chamber, but he shook her off and turned back towards the assistant. “Wait. Are there any ghosts here? Do you see any ghosts?”

Livira remembered that yes, assistants could see ghosts. She stood in front of the assistant waving her arms. “I’m here! We’re both here! Tell him Livira’s here!”

The assistant stopped and looked away from her, back at Evar. “Seeing ghosts is never a good thing, Evar Eventari. Hope that you never do. And under no circumstances speak to one.”

“Wait... What? Don’t tell him that!” Livira waved her hand in front of the assistant’s blank white eyes.

Evar’s shoulders slumped. Not in false drama, just by a fraction, and many might have missed it, but Livira saw his pain as he followed after his brother and sister. “Tell him!”

Malar shook his head. “These things are useless. And that’s from someone who’s spent two centuries on the inside.” He walked past them, headed after the canith, and Livira followed with a last exasperated glance at the assistant.

They got about five paces before something like an invisible chain pulled both of them up short. Livira felt herself being drawn backwards. The assistant, as it walked away in the opposite direction to Evar and his siblings, seemed to be dragging her and Malar after it.

“No!” Livira fought against the pull. “Stop it!”

Malar leaned forward, grinding his teeth as he struggled to advance, but his feet found no traction and his progress continued smoothly backwards. Livira took to the air, flying as hard as she could in Evar’s direction. The assistant didn’t appear to notice. It towed her as a child might tow a kite.

For a short while longer Livira raged against the unseen leash until, having no effect whatsoever, she felt foolish and stopped. The assistant had reached the main chamber and paused to survey the broad channel of destruction carved through the aisles by the construct. They could see its metal back not that far off, returning along the same path, the occasional weakened section of shelving collapsing when nudged.

Livira positioned herself in front of the assistant once again. “Why are you doing this? And why can’t you see me?”

“I can see you.”

“You could see me all along!” Livira accused.

“Yes.”

“Why did you bring us here? Why didn’t you let me speak to Evar?” Livira strode past the assistant, heading for the corridor. She got about six paces before the same force stopped her again. “Let me go! I need to follow him.”

“How would that help?” The assistant’s expression remained fixed and his voice even, but Livira’s imagination painted a quizzical raised eyebrow on his enamel forehead. She didn’t like his tone even if he didn’t have a tone.

“What do you want?” Livira had a direction, and she could follow the canith fast enough to catch up with them. Best to placate the assistant, especially since defying him didn’t seem to be an option.

The assistant tilted his head in a gesture far more human than Livira was used to seeing from such creatures. “It is... dangerous and difficult... for a timeless being to speak of temporary things. You have written a wound into the world, broken ageless laws.” A white hand intercepted Livira’s denial. “There is a book that is also a loop. A book that has swallowed its own tale. It is a ring, a cycle, burning through the years, spreading cracks through time, fissures that reach into its past and future. And through those cracks things that have no business in the world of flesh can escape.”

“I don’t know what—” But she did know. She had written a book and years later Evar had taken that volume into the Mechanism and been lost with it. His reunion with that book had triggered his search for her, leading him into the Exchange and back into time with her, carrying the book she hadn’t written yet. Later—though the word “later” was starting to lose its meaning—she’d come through the Exchange to his time carrying her earlier part-written version of the book—the same cover, same stolen pages, same ink. And somehow the two had fused into one, with their trails wrapped in and out of the portals of the Exchange in impossible knots. After that the book had plunged back into the past again in her hands to follow its course, back and forth, endlessly cycling through the years. It wasn’t here in the now—she knew that much. Livira looked up from the tangle of her thoughts. “The Escapes happen because of me? I broke the Mechanism?”

“You broke, or at least weakened, many things. Reason is fragile. Easy to fracture and hard to mend. Without reason, all things that matter fall apart.”

“How can I fix... everything?” Livira asked.

“You cannot fix it,” the assistant said, “but the damage can be minimised.”

“How?”

“I... don’t... know how.” The words seemed difficult for the assistant to say. “You need to bring the book forward. To this now, this moving point that you and Evar share. You two joined the book. You sealed the loop.”

“I’m a ghost here,” Livira said, exasperated. “I can’t touch anything.”

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