Page 67 of The Malevolent Eight

See, that’s what someone– not my idiot captors, but someone more knowledgeable about theactualconspiracy– would be expecting. If there had been any conceivable scenario in which I would have agreed to be the Pandoral’s portal, he would have already offered me the deal.

And– and this is the important part– someone was missing from this whole episode, and that someone’s absence was making me curious.

That’s why my next move was—

‘I capitulate!’ I called through the filthy little gap at the bottom of the door. ‘I will let my attunement be used to turn me into a gate!’

‘What?’ Lefty asked.

‘It means, “I give up”,’ I clarified. People who take jobs guarding tortured prisoners are rarely the brightest pigs in the sty.

‘Says he’s giving up,’ Lefty informed Righty.

‘So what?’ asked his equally dim colleague.

I hadn’t expected I’d have to explain the intricate permutations of surrender and its value to their employer’s cause, but I can be generous. When I’d finished, I suggested that perhaps now would be a good time to fetch their boss. Lefty complained that it was late and he wasn’t all that keen on waking people up, but I countered by explaining carefully that my moods could be changeable, so maybe this was one of those times when inconveniencing the boss was the right thing to do.

Once he and Righty took off (not the most professional behaviour, to leave a prisoner unguarded, even if they are locked up, but apparently Lefty wasn’t willing to bear the brunt of their employer’s displeasure alone), I set about working to change my destiny.

Clearlypretendingto capitulate wasn’t going to get the job done, so I needed toreallysurrender, to give my body and spirit completely over to these fucksticks so they could turn me into their gate and do dreadful things to the realm of reality I’d sworn– for reasons increasingly passing understanding– to protect at all costs.

It wasn’t easy, but then, I’m a complicated guy.

So I sat there in my dark, dank cell to convince myself that the world was doomed, the Aurorals and Infernals were worse than anything any Pandoral might have in mind for the Mortal realm, so it would be better for my fellow humans to hasten the end of our existence. When that failed, I spent time contemplating how much I absolutely despised the Lords Celestine and Lords Devilish, and how ruining their plans for humanity was worth any sacrifice.

Turns out, when you’ve been tortured and beaten and lied to as much as I’d been, you can convince yourself of almost anything, which is why it took only fifteen minutes to work myself into an iron-hard conviction that I was going to cooperate with the Pandoral. My will was firm, my destiny set– and whatever happened afterwards would be someone else’s problem.

Which was when someone else showed up.

‘Hey, sweetheart,’ I said, spreading my filth-covered arms to the shadows where I had no good reason to believe and yet was utterly certain I’d find her. ‘Couldn’t resist one last kiss?’

I couldn’t see her very clearly but I was fairly sure she wasn’t smiling.

Chapter 37

Bleak Prospects

She sat upon a throne that hadn’t been there seconds before. You’d think you might hear the sound of a damn great throne of silver and bronze with a polished oak and red velvet canopy and pale purple upholstery coming into existence, but this miraculous piece of unnatural spellcraft arrived as quietly as the whisper of a shadow.

Me? All I was good for was triggering unbridled havoc and conjuring vampire kangaroos. I was really going to have to up my magic game at some point.

‘In sixty years, this fortress gets overrun by the army of a would-be prince,’ said the Spellslinger, leaning against the plumply cushioned back of her throne. ‘The prince has a skin condition that causes blisters when he’s exposed to too much sunlight, so he puts his throne room down here in the cellar.’

‘Has his destiny become inevitable?’ I asked, feeling suddenly even shabbier than before. ‘Or is there still time for someone to teach him that dark red velvet and pale purple are a criminal combination?’

She laughed, though more out of politeness. It occurred to me that perhaps her own people, the ‘Jan’Tep’, might have more formal notions of polite behaviour than were common in this realm. She stepped down from the throne, allowing its destiny to return to mere potentiality. It was oddly beautiful, watching the woods, metals and fabrics coming apart and drifting away, first fragments of their elemental compositions, then tiny sparks and finally nothing.

‘About fifteen minutes ago, the guards went to inform the Pandoral that I’m going to submit my attunement to his control and let him turn me into a gate into their realm,’ I informed her, then gestured to the ceiling. ‘So you’d better reach into some other part of this dungeon’s destiny where it becomes easier to escape before they get back.’

She shook her head. The tumble of dark curls caressed her cheeks and I found myself wanting to do that myself. I was still entranced by that kiss. ‘I’ll admit, it was a clever piece of work, convincing yourself to do the Pandoral’s bidding.’ She stepped closer. ‘How did you know I’d sense the change in your doom?’

I consider myself more disciplined than most when it comes to the allure of physical attraction. As a wonderist-for-hire selling my spells and services to warlords and Ascendant Princes all over the continent, offers of sexual gratification were as common as stale beer. I’m not entirely sure why I always refused– possibly because I could never be confident those offering to spend the night with me had consented of their own free will. Corrigan figures my time in the Justiciars left me with a stick up my arse. Maybe both are true. However, stuck in that dark, dank cell stinking of every kind of filth, all I could smell was the scent of her hair and the faint sheen of sweat on her neck, and all I could see was the strange mixture of mischief and misery in her eyes.

‘I was a Justiciar,’ I reminded her. ‘I studied under Hazidan Rosh, perhaps the most brilliant investigator of wonderism there ever was. She taught me to think not only in terms of extra-planar rules of magic, but about how those rules became part of the human beings wielding them. Every time we’ve met, it’s when I’ve been on the verge of making a decision that would significantly alter my course– my doom, you called it.’

Was that admiration I saw in her gaze, or merely a new obstacle in the path of her own mission?

‘You knew that my own doom had become entwined with yours, so by deciding to submit to the Pandoral’s designs, you triggered my mystical sensitivities to the alteration in my own destiny.’

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