Victor of Tucson-Chapter 13Book 10: : Everybody Dies

13 – Everybody Dies

Victor withdrew into himself for several days after Tes left. At first, he let his loneliness and frustration get the better of him, and he languished in heavy, emotional doldrums, refusing audiences with Bryn and instructing her—through the door of his suite—to keep others away. That didn’t last long, though, because he found another emotional outlet: anger. He was angry at himself for pushing things to a confrontation with Tes. He was angry with her for worrying so much about the conventions of the society she was a part of. Ultimately, though, he railed at fate or God or whatever invisible forces had set his path through life on collision courses with women like Valla and Tes.

Fortunately for Victor and the citizens of Gloria, he’d been through all of this before and had grown resilient to the effects of heartache. After a few days, he began to force himself—a true feat of his prodigious will—to focus on the positives. Wasn’t it great that he’d earned the love of such incredible women in his admittedly short life? Shouldn’t he be happy to know that Tes wanted things to work out, that she was eager for him to continue to grow and one day, hopefully soon, be able to stand up to the scrutiny of her peers? Hadn’t it been amazing to kiss her and hold her and see the matching heat of emotion in her eyes when she left?

So, on the fourth day after her departure, Victor got himself up, took a nice long shower, dressed in fine clothing suitable for a duke and champion of a kingdom, and left his quarters, determined to make the most of the time remaining until his next duel. He’d yet to hear from Kynna, but he knew she’d be arriving with her retinue any day. He also assumed she was already hard at work trying to coax one of the great houses into accepting—or even preemptively issuing—a challenge.

“Are you well?” Bryn asked when he stepped out. Victor hadn’t provided much clarity when he’d hollered at her to keep people away, simply growling that he didn’t feel well and needed peace.

Victor smiled and nodded, stepping into the elevator. As Bryn followed him in, he said, “I’m good, thanks for asking. How are you? How’s Feist doing?”

“I’m well, though I admit to some worry over the last few days. I reasoned you were probably going through some sort of breakthrough—another natural treasure you’d been holding onto. Such thoughts quelled my fears and provided an excellent excuse to keep your administrators at bay.”

“You told Draj I’d eaten a natural treasure?”

“Not in so many words. I simply hinted in that direction. Where are we off to?”

“To see Trobban. Any word from him?”

She nodded. “He inquired about your status; he wasn’t aware you were back in the palace.”

“All right. Oh, and Feist? The wedding went well?”

“It was a very festive affair, and his family was appreciative of your gesture. I’ve submitted their expenses to the treasury. I hope that’s all right.”

“Yeah, of course. I was going to pay out of my own pocket, but… Yeah, let the duchy cover it. Feist may only be a squire, but he’s earned some hazard pay after our expedition to Iron Mountain.”

Bryn was quiet as they exited the elevator and walked for a while, but then she hesitantly asked, “Victor…have you heard anything about your next duel?”

He looked at her sharply, her tone making him wonder what she had heard. “Are there rumors?”

“Oh, many rumors, but it’s said that King Bayle is clamoring for your head. He wants to mount it, along with Queen Kynna’s, atop the gates of his palace.”

Victor snorted, scratching his chin. “Yeah? What kingdom does he rule again?”

“Alvessia. It’s a large kingdom on the southern point of the eastern continent. Those of us who grow up here on Ruhn are taught of that kingdom because it boasts the longest coastline of any kingdom—eleven hundred miles along the Central Sea and thirteen hundred on the other side, facing the Vast Deep.”

“Well, I guess that’s good. If he’s so eager, then Kynna won’t have trouble getting me a duel.” Victor turned down the long hallway leading to the ballroom that Trobban had taken over. “Do you know anything about his champion?”

Bryn nodded, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she walked beside him. “Yes, but only because of the king’s outrageous vitriol. His champion is named Loss Chenasta, and he’s an off-worlder, or was until last month. More than that, I can’t tell you.”

“Loss, huh?” Victor resisted the urge to make a stupid joke, partly because he feared he’d jinx himself.

“Yes, a strange name and rather at odds with your own.”

Victor looked at her just in time to see a sly smile on her lips and laughed. “Nice one, Bryn! And the queen? Any word?”

It was her turn to look at him sharply. “I thought that was why you came out today. Her chamberlain came through the portal and announced her imminent arrival. The palace staff is in a frenzy!”

“Ah.” Victor shrugged, smiling ruefully. “Maybe I felt her shadow falling over me.” By then, his long strides had taken them to the ballroom door, where two guards stood on duty. He nodded to them, and the one on the left pulled the door wide for him.

“Welcome, your Grace,” the man said from within his shiny helm, slamming his right fist into his breastplate.

“Thank you.” Victor stepped into the doorway but paused, looking at the guard holding the door and then the other one. “I’ve heard good things about your work, soldiers. Excellent job keeping this important work safe.”

“Milord!” the other guard cried, imitating his colleague’s salute. Victor nodded, then stepped into the ballroom. The space still looked like a formal dance or gathering hall; the white marble floor gleamed with fresh polish, and the wainscoting around the perimeter shone with a deep cherry luster in the bright light thrown by the high, crystal chandeliers. At the center of the space, however, was an improvised workshop: a dozen long tables strewn with equipment and materials, sheaves of paper, and stacks of books.

At the center of the loose circle of tables, Trobban leaned over something metallic, wielding a crystalline implement that ticked and buzzed as he did something that required close concentration. Victor nodded to Bryn, who took up a position near the door and walked quietly around the tables until he stood by the Artificer’s side. “How goes it?”

“Ah, Victor!” Trobban’s voice was pleasant and warm. “Give me just a moment to finish this, and then you’ll have my undivided attention.”

“No problem.” Victor turned and walked over to a table at the center of all the others. It, too, was stacked with books and scribbled notes, but in the middle lay the new “vessel” that Trobban had been building for Arona. Victor hadn’t laid eyes on it for a while, and he sucked in his breath at the sight of it. The last time he’d visited, Trobban had been learning how to work with the silvanite—Victor had given him half the ingot before giving the other half to Lifedrinker. Now, though, Arona’s new body was clad entirely in the smooth, silvery stuff.

For the first time, Victor could get an idea of the final form—not just the bones and innards in a vaguely humanoid shape. He’d expected Arona to be out, helping Trobban, but when he saw her future body there, he suddenly felt glad she wasn’t; the vessel was anatomically correct. Small breasts, complete with areolae and nipples, rose from the chest, and there was a definite cleft between its legs. “Chingado,” he hissed, summoning a cloak from his ring and draping it over the vessel, leaving only the arms and head exposed.

Leaning close, he saw delicate lines around the finger joints and even carved nail beds. Victor turned his attention to the head and was stunned by how eerily the monochrome, silvery flesh resembled the Arona he’d come to know back on Sojourn. Even her hair had been sculpted—hundreds of thousands of tiny filaments hung in short, wavy curls around her oval face. The vessel’s eyes were open, and within those metalline orbital bones sat two crystalline spheres that glowed with soft, silver-blue light.

“It almost looks alive already, doesn’t it?” Trobban asked, stepping close.

“She’s going to be silver?”

“No! When we complete the ritual to transfer Arona’s spirit into the vessel, the silvanite will take on a flesh-like appearance. It’s very malleable and easy to impress. Arona’s self-image will imprint. Of course, I’ve had to sculpt it into an approximation that conforms to the skeletal structure I built, but the details will come from Arona’s mind.”

Victor nodded, reaching to touch the vessel’s small, dimpled chin. To his surprise, the silvery surface yielded to his touch, soft like flesh. “Is it finished?”

Trobban grinned broadly. “Nearly! Your friend rests, gathering her strength, and I’m attuning the Azurite Star to her chosen affinity.” He gestured to another table where a spherical, dark metal container hummed, emitting faint pulses of yellow-hued light. “At its current rate, it should be ready within the week.”

“What affinity, Trobban?” The last time Victor had spoken to the crafter and Arona, they’d yet to decide. The Azurite Star could, apparently, take on any affinity given enough of an Energy infusion, so Victor gave Arona the five Energy Hearts he’d won in The Crucible of Fire to choose from.

Trobban grinned. “She’s truly going against her old nature; she’s chosen a solar affinity.”

Victor grinned. “I like it. It’s not exactly the opposite of death, but the undead pendejos definitely don’t like the sun or its light.” He nodded, his mind drifting back to a conversation he’d had with Arona while they’d been in the Iron Prison. She’d spoken about a member of the ruling council, a woman of Fae heritage who was feared and respected by all—Consul Rexa. Arona had dreamed of earning the woman’s respect, but the Fae wouldn’t abide a Death Caster. How would the consul feel now if Arona showed up in this new vessel with a solar affinity? For Arona’s sake, he hoped it would be a happy meeting.

“Honestly, Victor, if all goes well, we’ll be ready to perform the ritual this time next week. Do you think you’ll attend?”

Victor nodded, still staring at the strangely beautiful glowing eyes in the vessel’s serene, smooth face. “I want to, yes. Whether it will align with my schedule, we’ll have to wait and see. I’ll meet with the queen soon, so I imagine I’ll have a better answer for you in the next day or two. Don’t do anything until you hear from me!” He nodded to the cloak he’d draped over the vessel. “And keep her covered up, dammit. She might not be in there yet, but have a little respect for her future body.”

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“Well, Victor, I’ve had to carve and craft every small detail on this vessel. You could think of me as a physician in that regard—”

“Don’t give me that! How many physicians would leave their patient nude on a table in the middle of a ballroom where others might wander by to observe those tiny details?”

“But, Victor…you don’t let anyone else come in here, and—” He must have seen Victor’s glower, and he stopped short, nodding and bowing slightly. “My apologies, Your Grace. I should have had more thought for Arona’s, um, future modesty.”

“Good.” Victor took one more look around the gathered tables and then asked, “Anything else you need before I leave you to it?”

“No, no. You’ve been so generous. This space will work perfectly for the ritual.” Trobban looked around, mimicking Victor’s earlier perusal. Victor took a minute to give him a good look. The Artificer looked much the same as when Victor first met him, though he was undoubtedly more disheveled. His beard had grown, his hair was in tangles, and his robes were filthy with ink and other fluid stains. “If something comes up—”

“You’re taking care of yourself, right? Sleeping enough? Eating?”

“Oh, certainly!” He smoothed his robes while looking down at himself. “I apologize for my appearance; it’s just that this project is the greatest undertaking I’ve ever attempted. I can’t stop thinking about it. I would leave to clean myself up more often, but my mind is constantly gripped by the many little tasks ahead. Even now, I’m working on the inscriptions for the rune tablets that will guide Arona’s spirit into the new vessel. We have to attune them perfectly so that the latent Energy in her aura can be properly altered from death to solar attunement. It’s a delicate process, and I’m constantly thinking of new ways to tweak the patterns.”

“Well, listen. Here’s an order from me: before we go through with the ritual, you’re to have two solid days off to think about everything you’ve done to prepare. Sometimes, you need some distance and a clear mind to see mistakes.”

Trobban nodded, his ink-smudged face severe with his conviction. “Very wise. I swear it, Your Grace.”

Victor clapped him on the shoulder, nodded, and then turned back to the door where Bryn stood waiting. “See you soon, Trobban.”

When he approached Bryn, she smiled. “If you’d hoped to get any peace today, you should prepare for disappointment.”

Victor arched an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“There’s a page waiting outside. He wanted to speak to you—a message from the queen. I told him to wait.” Bryn’s smile turned a bit wicked as she added, “When he insisted his message was urgent, I might have mentioned that if his voice distracted you while you were in this room, I wouldn’t be able to save him from the curse you put on this threshold.”

Victor chuckled. Bryn had a way of surprising him, and it was clear his influence had rubbed off on her. Hadn’t she been straight-laced and by-the-book when they’d first met? He couldn’t imagine that Bryn, the one who rarely smiled and kept her helmet on through every waking minute, would have teased a poor page like that. “Well, nothing wrong with a bit of harmless teasing. Come on, let’s see what this is all about.”

He pulled the door open, nodded to the two guards, and approached the young man wearing a tunic emblazoned with a golden rose. “What have you got for me?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Your Grace! Her Majesty, Queen Kynna Dar, would have you know that she’s resumed residence in the eastern wing of your palace and would appreciate a meeting with you as soon as possible.”

“Anything urgent?”

“Your Grace, the queen’s time is always precious. I pray that you won’t keep her waiting.”

Victor glowered at the young fellow. It wasn’t really his fault that he was enthusiastic. After all, Kynna was the most powerful monarch on the continent; a little hero worship was to be expected. He nodded to the kid, probably only fifteen or so, and, with a grunt, waved him away. “I’ll be along shortly. Let her know.” The page didn’t waste time. He bowed and, before straightening, turned and sprinted down the hallway, his polished black shoes clicking in a staccato rhythm on the hard floors.

“Enthusiastic,” Bryn observed.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen that one before.”

“Gloria has absorbed quite a few new nations recently thanks to the threat of your challenge. I’m sure the Queen has had to take on many noble children to serve in one capacity or another.”

“Huh. That’s a good point, Bryn. Well, lead the way, Baroness. Let’s see what’s in store for me.” Bryn smirked in reply, but she did as he asked, taking the lead through the palace, waving away servants, guards, and dozens of nobles, staff, and attendants whom Victor wasn’t familiar with. His palace had been serving as a second capital for the queen’s burgeoning empire for a while now, and Victor had been quite happy to pass obligations off to the Haveshi clan. Draj and his mother, Tyla, had been hosting dignitaries on a regular basis.

His presence outside the area directly adjacent to his tower, walking through the long, opulent corridors of the central palace, was unusual, and many of the aforementioned folks were eager to try to meet him. They undoubtedly hoped for some favor at court or, at the very least, a story they could barter for influence with their peers. Victor smiled and nodded but was happy to have Bryn take on her role as his escort and personal guard, growling and shouting with a voice from somewhere deep in her belly for people to “Clear the path!” or “Make way for the duke!”

Before long, they entered the eastern wing of his palace, and once they’d passed by a squad of the Queensguard, things calmed down, and fewer people crowded their path. Nearly everyone was familiar with him, and they knew better than to slow him on his way to see the queen. The guards directed them to her current location, a study Victor was rather fond of with tall glass doors that opened onto one of his gardens. Bryn took up a position with the Queensguard outside, and he let himself in.

Kynna sat before the garden doors, the sun’s rays warm and bright on her silvery blue gown. Her thick hair was pulled up with silver pins, somehow woven between the spires of her crystal crown. When she heard the door close, she turned and regarded him pleasantly. “Thank you for coming right away, Victor. My messenger said that you were in the midst of something important when he found you.”

“Just speaking to my artisan friend. If I’d known you were waiting, I would have hurried, but the guards told your page to wait for me.” Victor shrugged, stepping toward the empty chair near hers. “It’s my fault, really. They know they’re not allowed entry to that room, so of course, they wouldn’t allow a page inside.”

“Of course. This is the man who’s working on your…friend’s new vessel?”

Victor grinned at her tone, taking his seat. “Yeah. He’s nearly finished.”

“Excellent! I do hope I’ll be able to meet your—”

“Her name is Arona, My Queen, and yes, of course, I’ll gladly introduce you.” Victor leaned back in his chair, enjoying the warmth the cushions had absorbed from the sunlight. In a more informal tone, with a bit of a smile, he asked, “How are you, Kynna?”

“I’m well, Victor, thank you. I’d heard rumors… Well, I won’t insult your intelligence. I received reports from some of the staff that you’ve been keeping to yourself in your chambers. Is all well? Is aught wrong with your other companion, Tes?”

“Everything is fine. Tes is gone, however. She was called away to attend…other matters.” Victor tried to keep his voice even and his face pleasant. The last thing he wanted was for Kynna to get involved in his relationship with Tes.

“I see!” She leaned forward, her hands clasped on her lap. “Will she be returning soon?”

Victor wondered what was running through her mind. Did she think her little gambit with the rose broach had struck gold? Did she believe Tes had given up because of Kynna’s implied interest in Victor? He almost chuckled, but he just shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t think so, Your Majesty. She has many obligations. I was lucky to have her here as long as I did.” Hoping to steer the conversation away from Tes, he added, “I heard there’s some king on the eastern continent who might be eager to accept a duel.”

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Kynna’s eyes widened, and the fires inside those crystalline orbs flared brightly. “That’s right; it’s the reason I called you to me. The fact of the matter is that Rogan Bayle already issued a challenge!”

“Shit, seriously?” Victor wondered if Loss Chenasta was one of the champions Tes had been worried about. She’d seen two with her own eyes and learned their names: a young dragon masquerading as a giant who styled himself Haz and a Death Caster named Osk Graveborn who’d conquered an entire world before answering the call of one of the great houses. She’d heard rumors of other deadly mercenaries coming to serve as champions but hadn’t had a chance to set her eyes on them.

“Yes, and Victor, know this: Gloria has too many borders, including a coastal one, for him to force my hand easily. If you wish to stop our forward momentum here and now, I will understand. In fact, I’ll be happy. You’ve already done so much! Why risk everything?” Kynna looked sincere, and she wasn’t wrong; Gloria had grown its borders ten-fold since he’d arrived. More than that, she’d absorbed some very wealthy nations.

Kynna’s legacy was assured. Stopping now wasn’t what Victor had agreed to, though. He’d promised Dar to help her conquer this entire world, and, more importantly, he needed to keep challenging himself if he was going to build up his strength—his gravity. The kind of man who might impress a world full of dragons or a city full of equally powerful beings wasn’t the kind of man who settled for “good enough.” Victor had ambitions, and he had enemies, and an iron ranker who’d won a few duels wasn’t going to measure up to either.

“That’s not what your ancestor wanted for you. It’s not what I promised him I’d do. More importantly, Kynna, this will give us a foothold on the eastern continent, and it does so without you having to declare a succession war. Honestly, you couldn’t have asked for anything better. If King Rogan Bayle wants to invite calamity, let us give it to him.”

“All true. Those are all wise words. However, King Bayle was at your last duel. He saw you slaughter those two iron rankers. No doubt his champion was also in attendance. He would not issue this challenge if he didn’t think he could beat you, so, considering those circumstances, some of the wisdom in your words falls a bit flat. His champion is an unknown. None have seen him fight. He came from off-world only a month ago—after you killed Trinnie Ro and the Great Houses got an inkling of your threat.”

“Even so, Kynna, you know what I think, and you know what Ranish Dar will say. If you want to fight your ancestor on this, go ahead, but I’ll stand by what I said: we should push on.”

“And my ancestor will listen to you! Should we risk everything? This champion is a killer for hire, and he can’t have come cheaply. Perhaps Rogan won’t be able to employ him through a protracted siege. If I can hold out for a decade or three, he might back off and then—”

“Kynna, I’m sorry, but I’ve got…” Victor thought about his words carefully before continuing, “I’ve got other obligations to consider. I’ll keep at this as long as we’re trying, but if we’re just stalling, I’m going to have to have a heart-to-heart with Ranish Dar. I can’t sit around for decades.”

Kynna’s eyes grew stormy, and a deep frown marred her expression. It was always amazing to Victor how a mood could alter a person’s entire persona. She looked mean and cold now, whereas moments ago, she’d been sunshine incarnate. “You don’t leave me much choice, do you? Very well, then, Victor. I’ll accept the challenge and put everyone’s fates in your hands once again. Do you find such a burden so comfortable? Are you content to risk death?”

Victor stood, his mind fighting with his tongue, trying to keep him from saying something flippant or cruel, something harsh or angry. He considered it a well-fought victory that he managed to say what he considered the simple truth. “Everyone dies.” With those words, Victor nodded to the queen, who seemed stunned by his bluntness, and walked briskly out of the room. As he strode past Bryn, she hurried to catch up, saying something, but his mind was too busy to hear her.

He wasn’t sure what had upset him. Was he angry that Kynna wanted to grasp peace and content herself with the power she’d gained? Was he angry that she—again—doubted his ability to win? Was he frustrated to realize that now, more than ever, he was the one pushing this conquest? Kynna wanted to stop, and he could probably convince Ranish Dar that they’d accomplished enough. He knew it was more than that, though. He was angry at himself for putting Kynna into that corner. He’d given her the illusion of choice, but she had no control over this situation.

The question he had to ask himself was a simple one: why? Why was he doing this? Did he simply like killing? Did he like the risk? He hadn’t been lying when he indicated a lack of fear. He wasn’t worried about dying. If he went out fighting, if he did his best, if he made his ancestors proud…well, then if he died, he’d be content. His spirit would find its way to the next world, and he’d try harder in his next life. The truth was, none of those motives explained his behavior.

No, the truth of the matter was that Victor hated having a boot on his neck. Ranish Dar might be a pleasant master, but he was a master nonetheless. He’d taken advantage of Victor’s need to help Edeya. Just as bad as Dar were all the implied threats made by stronger and stronger people. The veil walkers of Ruhn, the Consuls of Sojourn, the Warlord of Zaafor, the Ancient Masters of Dark Ember—everywhere Victor went, he met more and more people who used their strength to lord over him and others. Above them all, lurking and listening, shaping things through its connection to nearly every living thing, was the System. He was sick of it.

“So,” he growled, startling Bryn, “if I’m going to get out from under these boots, I’ll need to keep goddamn fighting.”