The Queen of Lies (27 page)

“So we check out Landry or the Storm bitch?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of these woods and back to civilization. Evan Landry has a lot to answer for.”

I
CANNOT SAY
how long it has been since the Long Night descended. Time seems to waver and melt into a long, infinite nightmare. Wild ravings come from the streets below as people fall to the haunting call of delirium. The archwizards, who should protect us, have all drifted into madness and seek to drown the world in shadow mischief.

Twisted creatures prowl the corners of my vision, segmented shivering shades, creeping over the dark places in our home. My beloved wife cradles our son in a bubble of protective magic. It’s all she can do to maintain it, and she’s far stronger than I.

The orgy of violence and sex calls to me and makes my blood run hot. I’m no archwizard, but I’m puissant enough to feel the infection of madness creep through my mind. The world is disintegrating in front of me, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

The world is ending, and the Long Night is upon us, from which we may never awaken. For who would ever want to awaken from the fever of the Harrowers? How I hunger for them to consume me forever and always.

It was Achelon who brought this ruin upon us. And it was Achelon who showed us the truth.

I see the truth because I have too many eyes.

—
FRAGMENT OF AN OLD JOURNAL, AN ACCOUNT OF THE LONG NIGHT

M
ADDOX AWOKE FROM
his slumber of death with a start, his newly awakened heart pounding. The visions had shown him some fucked-up shit, and he wasn’t even sure they were factually accurate scenarios—they tended to be symbolic. But seeing that chamber and his aunt Cara gave him pause as he went to light the next hit of euphorium.

That was no reason to avoid the firebrandy, though. For him the waking world had become the dream, a recurring event where truth and certainty faded from his mind. He’d been going at it for only a few hours by his waking sense of time, but maybe it was time to take a break and see what the hell Riley and the other losers were up to.

Maddox nearly leapt out of his chair when he looked over.

At another workstation, ten feet over, there was another, quite deceased, version of himself going through the motions of cooking up drugs. The reagents were different. He guessed the revenant was making dragonfire or some watered-down derivative. The thing paid him no mind.

Maddox noticed stitches around the wrists and neck, along with canine bite marks on the arms. His undead double wore a long robe to preserve his modesty. “Holy mother of all…” He glanced back to two more tables, where Falco and Crateus were busy at work. Falco looked rather decayed, but Crateus looked fresh. He wore a pair of tinted safety goggles that made him look like a green-eyed bug.

“Oh, hey, Maddox.” Crateus waved. “I didn’t see you there. How are the visions coming along?”

“What the five hells is happening? Where’s Riley?”

“Mr. Riley’s very busy,” Crateus said. “He wishes he could visit with you, but he asked me to look in on you. I’m trying my hand at alchemy. I figure if a rotter can do it, so can a Fodder, right?” He laughed cheerfully at his joke.

Crateus poured a blue liquid from a glass tube into a wide-bottomed flask, swirled it, then poured it back into the test tube. He repeated this a couple of times.

“Riley,” Maddox said more insistently, “where can I find him?”

“He’s out gathering disciples.” Crateus said, “but if you want to wait for him, you can join us for dinner. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat. Or shit.”

Maddox drank more firebrandy. “Riley…has disciples?”

“Yup. ’Bout fifteen.” Intently concentrating on his task, Crateus continued to transfer the liquid between the flasks.

“There aren’t fifteen people in Creation dumber than fucking Riley,” Maddox said angrily. “Except maybe you. What the hell are you doing?”

“Practicing,” Crateus said a little nervously. “I want to master the motions so that when I’m ready to mix solutions, my body will be trained. It’s hard to get it from the big one to the small one without a funnel.”

Maddox snatched a funnel off the table and held it up. “That’s why we use funnels. And this is why your people don’t understand magic. I’ll ask you one more time before I get really angry. Where can I find Riley and his disciples?”

“Dunno,” Crateus said. “It’s him and Esme that do all that. Me, Gran, and the brothers just keep a watch on the house while they’re out. I remember Esme saying something about handing out food at the docks. I figure maybe they’re paying a visit to the refugees. There’s a lot of hungry people in the city, and food is getting expensive on account of all the trade drying up.”

“Really? There’s a food shortage?” Maddox said sarcastically.

“On account of all the harrowings that have been happening. No merchant will spend more than an hour in the city, if even that, and they’re charging double prices.”

“I don’t give a shit about a fucking food shortage! Why is there a revenant over there who looks exactly like me? Why are we in a grand ballroom cooking up drugs, and where the hell can I find Riley?”

“There was an…accident with your leg. But it grew back! And so Gran and Riley came up with this experiment—”

Maddox waved his hand. “I’ve heard enough. Just destroy it, okay?” He had to admit it was kind of ingenious. If anyone in the house knew magic, it was probably Gran. That kind of skill would have made her a magus. A female magus from an era when that sort of thing practically had been outlawed.

“I can’t destroy it. Riley would get real mad if I did. He calls him Deaddox.”

Maddox forced a laugh. “Of course he does. Where the hells are we?”

“Landry estate. Riley moved us in here because he liked it better.”

“Why’s there a drug lab in the ballroom?” Maddox took a chug of firebrandy and wiped his mouth.

“It does seem odd,” Crateus said thoughtfully. “He said no one was buying silver and jewels anymore with traders being afraid to enter the city and all, but Cordovis would pay good money for drugs.”

“Riley’s full of shit. We’re squatting illegally in a dead man’s house,” Maddox said flatly. “And since when did he become a criminal mastermind? Cordovis has assemblymen in his pocket and pretty much runs every shop on Beaker Street. What the hells is going on?”

“We’re moving up in the world. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“I never woke up.” Maddox threw his hands in the air. “That’s the only explanation for any of this. This is all part of the Guides’ journey. I’ve seen wonders and horrors that have inured me to strangeness. This little shit show is so far beneath my notice that I…don’t even notice it.”

Crateus smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve seen. Once we all get your seal, we’re going with you.”

Maddox tipped the bottle back and let it empty into his mouth. He threw it against the dusty parquet floor and said, “I’m becoming a transcendent being. Tell Riley he can go fuck himself. He knows where to find me.”

“Anything else I should say?”

Maddox staggered back over to his workstation and plopped down in the chair. He gave a solemn nod to Deaddox before sparking up his hookah and letting the euphorium hit. It fell on him like a ton of bricks.

“Oh, thank the Guides I’m back,” Maddox said, finding himself laid out on a cool white marble floor. The circular room was luxuriously appointed. Intricately carved archways led out to a balcony that overlooked a pink-and-gold sky filled with ornate white clouds.

“Greetings,” a man’s voice called from across the room. Maddox saw a man in loose white robes seated in a white marble throne. He was in his midfifties, with silver hair, but his body was muscular and trim, lending him an almost mythological appearance. He was clean-shaven and imperious in his manner.

“I don’t entertain visitors, so I had to invoke this space rather quickly. If I had more time, I would have come up with something more regal.”

“This is fine by me,” Maddox said, glancing around. The place was stunning, filled with plush sitting areas and beautiful artwork. A bed the size of a small room, draped in ornately folded silk, dominated one end of the chamber. There were no stairs in or out and no privy.

“You misunderstand. This is far too humble for one of my stature. It doesn’t convey nearly a fraction of the awe that you should feel in my presence. But you’re hardly worth the effort of re-creating it for my own vanity.” He paused. “Know that you stand in the presence of the creator of this universe, Architect.”

He said that last word as if it were almost physically painful for him.

“You’re
the
Creator?”

“Of
this
universe,” he said. “I can’t take credit for the one you call home. Surely you know who I am. You have come to my realm.”

“I just end up in random places,” Maddox said. “You know, visions.”

“Ah, yes, I see that now.” He sighed. “I’ve finished reading your soul, Maddox of Rivern, and I know everything that has brought you to this place. The Grand Design—abandon it; abandon your search. Choose a life of humble service to others, and you may yet find some meaning in your immortality. That’s the best I can offer you.”

“First, let me say,” Maddox began very politely, “fuck off. Second, let me also say that I have no clue who you are. And finally I can’t die in a vision, and I can’t die in real life either, so…the whole angry-god thing isn’t working.”

“First,” he replied, “though I’m omnipotent in this plane of existence, I’m also omnipresent, so the one request I’m unable to fulfill is to ‘fuck off.’ Congratulations on finding my weakness. Second, you do know my name, even if you don’t recognize me. And finally, while I can’t harm you, if you decline my hospitality, I can make your stay here very unpleasant, so I would advise you show the proper respect.”

“Who are you?”

“You knew me as Achelon, the Great Desecrator.”

“Fuck—” Maddox stopped himself. “I was just in Minas Creagoria and—”

“I know.”

“And I saw—”

“I know.”

“And you probably know what I’m going to say before—”

“Yes.”

“You attained the Seal of the Grand Design, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but you’re also very predictable.” He shifted in his throne and toyed with his robe, briefly revealing the mark of the Grand Design over his heart. “Seal magic thankfully doesn’t work in this universe. I’ve replaced mysticism and sacred geometries with a more logical system in my own version of Creation.”

“So what will happen if I attain it?” Maddox peered at Achelon’s chest, studying the edges of the symbol. The man had rock-hard pectorals dusted with fine silver-and-black chest hair. For an ancient-mass-murderer-turned-god, he wasn’t unattractive. In a totally evil way.

“What do you think will happen, Architect?” Achelon said peevishly, covering his chest. “You’ll become a monster.”

“Nah.” Maddox smiled. “We’ve already had one of those. It didn’t work out so well.”

“If a man’s virtue could be measured in drink, you would sully the saints.” Achelon leaned back in his seat. “But you’re no saint, and your principal failing is pride. You need to feel superior to those around you. You want their adoration but settle for hatred because you tell yourself it’s envy.”

“I’m not perfect, but you set a pretty low bar,” Maddox scoffed. “I’ve been to your city, and I know the dirty secrets hidden from sight. I may not like humanity as a whole, but I’d never allow people to be bred like cattle in a underground dungeon so I could harvest their infants to power my machinery.”

“I found it abhorrent as well. But even as King Achelon of Minas Creagoria, I was beholden to the interests of others. Not only of my supporters on the Hidden Council but also those of my people. Do you think the lords of Sarn or Maceria would follow suit if I shuttered the mills? Or would they use the power of their own harvests to bring us to heel? It’s human nature to exploit. Selective empathy is how humanity survived before we became a detriment to our own survival.

“The only way to change a man’s nature is to control him absolutely and utterly.” Achelon grimaced. “That was the best possible world the Grand Design showed me—all of humanity happily enslaved under my benevolent rule. Robbed of choice and freedom and set upon an efficient path of maximized virtue. A world of slaves or a world devoid of life—those are the only answers to suffering.”

Maddox pondered the thought: every man, woman, and child in Creation singing his praises, fervently believing in his truth, and living in accord with his mandates. Although glory and recognition were recurrent themes in his daydreams, he found the idea of absolute control unsettling. “But you didn’t…Sephariel said—”

“Even though I attained the seal, I denied it…and made a different choice.” Achelon put forth his arm and slid back the sleeve of his robe. On his forearm was a plain black circle filled with what looked like ancient numbers: 6-62606957. The ink wasn’t merely black; it was like peering into a gateway into an absolute void. Maddox looked away. That wasn’t something he wanted to remember.