Page 102 of Katabasis
Violently she shook her head. “I don’t know if the Erichtho spell even works—”
“Well, there’s a chance it does. You’re the only one with a positive outcome here, Law. It’s just how the numbers fall.”
“I don’t care about the numbers!”
“Anyhow, you’re the only one who didn’t try to kill him—”
“You didn’t kill him. I did. I remember I didn’t close the loop. I remember, I don’tforget—”
“I double-checked the submission after. You didn’t close the loop because there was no closure. I never put it in.”
“But still I should have known.” Alice did not make mistakes; she couldn’t. She saw everything; every detail was seared in her brain. And the only way she could overlook a thing like the Ant Test was if some part of her intended it. “I’ve been over this a thousand times. I saw the gap, Iknew—”
“Stop it.” Peter flung up his hands. “Just stop. We are not fighting over who gets credit for his murder.Who cares about the details—”
“The details matter,” Alice insisted. “They matter because you think you deserve to die when youdon’t, when it’s not your fault at all, and you did nothing wrong, and you shouldn’t even be down here—”
“The fact remains.” Peter raised his voice, spoke right over her. “I can get this paradox to work on you. I am absolutely certain I can make it work. I have almost no certainty about the two of us. So that’s just basic decision theory, Law. Maximum expected outcome.”
“Shut up.”
“It’s just maths. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”
“But you can’t die here.” She swallowed. “Not when—not when I’ve just—”
There was something wild, desperate in Peter’s eyes. “When you’ve just what?”
What did she want to say? Alice didn’t know. She didn’t have the words for this pit of feeling, dark and gnawing and delirious. She wanted to hurl herself into his unknown; wanted an intimacy she couldn’t describe. She wanted him alive; near; beside her. The words that came to mind were clumsy and insufficient, but they were all she had. “When we’ve just learned not to hate each other.”
Something closed in Peter’s face.
They stared at each other, a chasm yawning between them.
Oh, why was this so hard? Alice wondered desperately. Why couldn’t she ever tell Peter what shethought? Always they had been bodies hurtling just out of one another’s orbit, when all it would have ever taken was an honest word. But that was precisely what magicians lacked; there were no honest words, only puns and illusions and constructions of reality so convoluted that you couldn’t keep track anymore of what was real and what wasn’t. Everyone was always trying so hard to pretend they were somebody else.
If only they had caught one another, looked at each other, forced their ways across the gap.
But it was too late now, too late for everything.
Peter drew out a blade.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m deciding for both of us.”
“You can’t.”
“It’s the only rational solution,” he said. “Please, Alice. Don’t be an idiot.”
She lunged for the blade. He raised it up out of her reach. She tried to shove him over—she tried with all the strength she had, but Peter could not be budged from the pentagram. She smacked his arms, scratched and pulled. But he was taller, heavier, and stronger; all he had to do was wave her aside.
“I hate you,” she cried. “You’re so—you’re such a—”
“Logician.” He gave her a sad smile. “I know.”
He drew the blade across his arm. Blood flowed thick and fast across his skin, dripped down his fingers and onto the chalk, suffused the pentagram like spreading ink until the whole thing glowed crimson. Peter began to chant. Alice wailed. She hit him, she flailed, she railed against his grip—but he was so strong, and nothing she did could break his rhythm. On and on he went, sonorous as ever, confident until the last.
“The rucksack, Alice.” He patted her shoulder. “Don’t forget the rucksack.”
