Kichlan looked away, his disappointment too painful to watch.
“Why can I see you?” The stub of Sofia’s remaining arm twitched towards me.
I shook my head.
“I—I don’t know.” Maybe I should just try to heal her. Even if I made a mistake, even if her body wasn’t strong enough, then death—death—it couldn’t be as bad as this. “Something—something in the Tear water, from the laboratory. All that experimental debris, and programming, and pions and—and—” I was rambling. What was wrong with me, how could I even have thought—
“
Well, it doesn’t matter.” Sofia actually smiled. “I’m glad you came back. It makes Kichlan happy. And I can see you. You’re better than darkness, Tanyana. And it means, there’s something I can do. No one can pity me now, right? Because I can see you.”
“
Let me have a look. At your hubs. Let me read them, before I decide.” I had to try—
“
Uz?” Mizra said, suddenly, from the middle of the street, and his voice was loud, clear. I swallowed growing nausea. No pion-binder could raise the dead. But I did not want to have to tell him that.
“
Mizra,” I said, almost a whisper. “I’m sorry, Mizra. Your brother. You know…I can’t…”
But he wasn
’t looking at me. Mizra stood, eyes staring at the coffin in which his brother lay.
“
Uz?” he said again. He stumbled forward, a few shambled, hesitant steps. “Are you alive?”
I spun, to see Uzdal—pale and dead and still half-frozen—rising from the coffin. His face was slack, his body slumping and weak, but he stood. Somehow, he stood, and he lifted his head, and he stared right at me.
And his eyes glowed.
“
I don’t believe it,” he said, in a voice that was not his own. “Another fucking dead body.”
“
Uz?” Mizra said, again, uncertain.
“
No,” I said, dropped the hub, leapt to my feet. “That is not your brother, Mizra. That is the Other.”
The Other smiled with Uzdal
’s mouth, and it was horrific. The sight of all the Other’s arrogance, all his twisted madness, on Uzdal’s usually laconic face, sucked the very air from my lungs.
“
Brother?” Mizra, unheeding, continued his slow stagger forward.
“
Stop him,” I gasped. “Now.”
Fedor
’s Unbound leapt forward. Four of them collected Mizra—who screamed at them, who kicked and fought—and dragged him back.
“
Oh come now,” the Other said, grinning. “The man only wants to see his brother.” He stepped out of the coffin and opened his hands. “Let him come here, to me. Let me embrace him.”
“
Hold him there!” I cried. I cupped pions in my hands, and my suit bands shone. “Don’t let the Other get him!”
I gathered all the power I had. Pions in bright whorls of light around me, filling the street, clogging the air. Zecholas and Volski placed themselves on either side and channelled even more into my hands. My suit slid free of its bonds, wrapping my body in silver and shining its code against the floor, the walls.
The Other took a few shambling steps forward, and looked down to his new body. “Only recently dead, at least.” He met my eyes, still grinning. “Better than bones and bits of rotten flesh, wouldn’t you say?”
“
What’s happening?” Kichlan asked, watching Uzdal’s body with horror. “How is he—?”
“
That’s not Uzdal,” I said. Mizra sagged against the Unbound, weeping. Natasha hurried to his side, and pulled him back until they stood where Sofia was lying. “That’s the Other.”
A moment of silence, as what I was saying finally sunk in.
“That’s impossible,” Fedor said. “The Other is a myth.”
The Other chuckled.
“Am I? How interesting.”
“
The way the Keeper is a myth?” I snapped at him. “The Other was the first guardian, the Keeper’s predecessor. But he turned mad, and cruel. The Keeper saved us all from him.” I decided not to bother with talk of programmers and Heroes and the attempt to bend space and time. Not right now. We had rather more pressing issues to attend to. “He was imprisoned.”
“
Until you released me,” the Other said, voice like a purr. “Want to tell them about that, do you, Tanyana? Want to tell them why?”
I refused to be intimidated. I had to get the Other out of here—out of Uzdal
’s body, and out of this world. I threaded the pions around me into circles. Many, many circles.
“
My lady?” Volski gasped. The power of circles upon circles charged through him, around him, so strong it was all he and Zecholas could do to hold their ground. They could not direct such strength, not without being burned.
“
Just hold them!” I snapped at him. “That’s all I need you to do.”
I gathered debris from as far as the city ruins above and threaded code into my circles, the way the silex hubs had done to Natasha. The code added strength to my complex, countless, pion bonds, supporting what should have been an impossible structure. Even as I gathered so much power, I realised I didn
’t really know what to do with it. With pions I could alter Uzdal’s body, maybe undo whatever it was the silex coffin had done to connect him to the Veil. And the Other was a program on this world—like the Keeper, like the puppet men. Could I rewrite his code and send him back, without the help of Lad or my son?
“
You should not be here,” I said, sweating with the effort. “I will send you back. Not to the Veil, but to your prison! To your Shard in the heart of the Legate!”
But the Other did not look concerned, even in the face of all the pions and the code I was gathering.
“I know,” he said. He ran fingers down Uzdal’s arm, pressing cold flesh curiously. “This is impossible, isn’t it? But I told you, Tanyana, I have earned the faith of the veil. It has uploaded me, here, into this vessel. Dead—” disgust wrinkled Uzdal’s face “—but alive enough, for now. For this, the first step.”
“
The Veil did?” For a moment, my grip on my code-threaded pions slipped. Energy and power echoed, like a thunderclap, through the underground street. Cracks shattered out behind me in half a dozen or so rough circles, and chunks of stone fell from the ceiling.
“
My lady!” Volski cried. “We cannot hold it.”
I nodded, squeezed my hands into hard fists, and stabilised my grip.
“Because I am worthy,” the Other said. “It gave me the means to return. I am here to demand you fulfil our bargain.”
The Veil had no power here. But the Other was a programmer, and between them, they must have tapped into the ancient connection between Uzdal
’s coffin and the dark world, then ridden the particle flow to push the Other into his body. I wished Lad was still with me. He would have seen this happening. He would have warned me, and told me how to stop it.
“
Now, give me what I want. Give me what you owe me!”
The Keeper. I drew a deep breath.
“I can’t. I won’t. Never.”
The Other did not seem all that surprised.
“So, you lied to me. You had no intention of fulfilling your side of the bargain.”
“
Of course not!” I spat at him. I was not about to betray the Keeper. He protected us, he trusted me, and he did not deserve that.
So I readied my pions, my code.
“The Veil was right about you,” the Other said. “It warned me you could not be trusted. It said you would fight me, with all your perverted strength. But you are foolish to underestimate me. I protected your world for thousands and thousands of years. I learned a few tricks, in that time. And I remember them well.”
I frowned.
“I don’t fear you, Other. I know what you are. You are the memory of a dead man. You are nothing but symbols and light. And you don’t belong on this world. You can’t do anything to harm me. You can’t touch a thing.”
He grinned, and it was terrible to see. Worse, even, than the puppet men and their ill-fitting smiles, because he used Uzdal
’s mouth to do it. “You’re oh-so-clever Tanyana. That’s right, I’m not a part of your reality. But that doesn’t make me powerless. Not at all.”
A great shudder ran through the code I had wound into my pion bonds. My suit blazed even brighter in response, and silver slipped from my wrists to twine like ribbons, like sharp and blazing garlands in the air around me.
“That’s a pretty little program you’ve got there,” the Other snarled. “But it won’t help you.”
My circles started to unwind. I couldn
’t hold them—pions slowed and slipped from my grip, and my code dissolved into senseless and random symbols. I released what I could, focusing solely on the bonds my suit was bolstering.
“
My lady!” Volski cried. “The pions are disappearing again!” His hands snatched frantically in the air as he fought to stabilise his threads. Zecholas was chanting without words, loudly, steadily, his voice a low monotone. “Like last time!”
Like last time?
“You’re opening doors?” I whispered.
The Other chuckled.
“I told you, I am not powerless here.”
Zecholas sagged back, breathless. Volski cursed and swiped at the empty air. All the thinly spread and complicated coils of my suit clashed and rattled, as pions slipped away, and the debris turned rogue, as doors I could not even see sucked us once again into nothingness.
Then the Keeper appeared. He stood before me, one hand raised to push my suit aside. His pale skin shone, not as bright as the light beaming from the Other’s eyes, but steady. He looked over his shoulder, dark eyes concerned.
“
Tan,” he said. “What’s happening?”
“
There you are,” the Other growled, and crouched his stolen body. “You fucking usurper, you stole my job! My life! But you are nothing, do you know that? Not a Hero, not a Guardian! Nothing!”
The Keeper endured the Other
’s venom with a gently surprised expression. “I lost contact with the programmers again,” he said. “And the doors started opening, even the ones I’d just closed.” He turned back to the Other. “This is not what I expected.”
I swallowed a sudden lump of pride. He was so steady, now that he was whole. Like Lad, as he learned confidence. I could take strength from that.
“This is the Other,” I said.
Behind him, the Other growled again.
“Look at me you fucking weakling! I’m here for you!”
A moment of confusion, then shock in the Keeper
’s dark eyes. “
The
Other?” he said. “Favian, who was a Hero?”
“
That name has no meaning,” the Other spat. “Not any more. I am the Hero. Only the Hero.”
The Keeper surveyed my vast and coiling suit.
“Well, that makes a kind of sense, actually.” He ran a soft finger along my clattering silver and it steadied. “Who else could just open the doors like that? And he’s interfering with the code you’ve tried to program here, too.”
“
How?” I gasped, and fought to draw my suit back in. I let go each circle individually, slowly, steadily, hissing as the silver rattled fire up into my arms and through the nervous connection deep into my neck.
“
Because you’re using debris to do it. Debris is the program that steadies the Veil between worlds. Debris is me. And him. In fact, it was him first.”
The last of my silver slipped back into its bands and I sank to my knees, wiping sweat from my face and wondering how in all the Other
’s hells would we, well, save ourselves from all the Other’s hells?
“
But how did this happen?” the Keeper asked. “How is it even possible—”
“
Why does it matter?” the Other cried, and leapt forward. “I’m here. Now die for me, little Guardian, so I can take my rightful place!”
Uzdal
’s body smashed into the Keeper, and light spilled around them like a great net. I caught the Keeper’s shocked expression, for a moment, before he disappeared, dissolved into code and reformed beside the coffin.
His dark eyes stared into mine.
“He touched me!” he gasped, and I knew why he was so shocked. Uzdal had not even been able to see the Keeper, let alone hurt him. But with the Other inside and the Veil behind him, that body was not Uzdal not any more. It was so much more.
The Other tipped back his head and laughed.
“I was here before you, Guardian. And I am more powerful than you know.” He reached out with Uzdal’s hand and snatched scatterings of code from the air. These, he pulled, and the Keeper stumbled toward him.
Somewhere, at the edges of my hearing, doors rattled. I still could not see them, but I could hear wood banging and iron rattling, and they were coming closer.
“Tan!” the Keeper cried, as the Other, laughing, dragged him closer. “Help me!”
I opened my arms and called with every part of me, but could only summon a faint scattering of pions. I pushed myself to my feet and curved my suit into blades, but hesitated. What could I do with swords? Could I really cut through Uzdal, no matter how dead he was, while Mizra had no choice but to watch?
Doors flickered at the edge of my vision. Behind me, Kichlan gasped, “They’re back. Tan, why are the doors back?”
I stepped forward.
“Hero!” I called, clear and loud. It was enough to get his attention. “Why are you doing the Veil’s dirty work? Why would you betray the people who trust you, who rely on you, just to help it?”
“
Tan?” the Keeper whimpered, his voice breaking. “Please.” I wished him to be strong.
“
I’m not doing anything of the kind,” the Other answered, confident. “I’m just taking back my rightful place.”
I tipped my head at him, aimed for innocence.
“Rightful place? In Uzdal? I thought you were supposed to guard both worlds, not destroy them.”
He scowled at me.
“What?”
“
By opening the doors and weakening the Guardian program, you are playing right into the Veil’s hands. By the time you’ve finished, it’ll be too late. You won’t be able to slow the movement of particles, and both worlds will fall. The people on this side, and the people in your cities on the other.”
The Other lowered his fist, gradually.
“No. That’s not right. That’s a lie. The Veil sent me here because I am special. I am the Hero. I earned the love of the Veil.”
The Keeper, given some respite, took shuddering breaths. The sound of rattling wood dimmed a little.
“No, you have not. The Veil is using you to weaken the program that slows the flow of particles between worlds. It’s taking advantage of the chaos you, and I, and the puppet men have caused. The Legate is in disarray, the programmers can’t access the Veil; there is no way of replacing the Guardian. At least, not fast enough to protect both our worlds.”
He frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“
The Veil told me that we were lucky it was trapped between our worlds. Lucky, because its very presence slowed the movement of particles and saved our worlds from mutual destruction. But isn’t it strange that we would need Heroes like you, or programs like the Keeper, to keep the flow in check? If the Veil really was keeping us apart, if it really is saving us, sacrificing itself to keep us alive then why do we need you at all? Why do we need Shards, and debris, and Guardians?”