Flux Wanderrift's Arc

Chapter 13 of 18

Flux held the rolled rug against their chest. The map to the council's fold still hid in its threads. But maps meant nothing without eyes to read the seam. The jester lay curled on the floor, all three eyes shut, its breath thin. It had sensed too many portals. It could not find the way back before dawn. "Wake it," Flux said. Celestine did not move from her bed. "It's spent. Push it and you'll have a corpse, not a guide." She folded her hands. "You need another set of eyes." "There aren't any. The swarm's gone. I scattered it myself." A seam split the air near the desk. Not Perrin this time. A man stepped through in a grey pinstriped suit, a gold watch loose on his wrist. He looked around the dust room like a buyer sizing up cheap property. Flux knew the face from the letter they had spread across every dimension. Bain Pembroke. The councilor whose crimes had painted the target on Flux's name. Celestine stood. The jester's eyes cracked open at the stranger. "You're the one who ruined me," Pembroke said. Flat. No heat. "Aldric votes at dawn. I'm finished either way." He glanced at the sleeping creature, the tight rug. "You're trying to reach the fold." "Why do you care?" Flux asked. "I don't." Pembroke pulled a thin chain from his collar. A pendant swung on it, dull metal. "They gave every councilor one. It opens the door to the meeting place. Ten seconds, then it seals." He set it on the desk. "You want in. I want out before they hunt me too." Flux picked up the pendant. The metal was warm. "This skips the seam. I don't need the map." "You need the timing." Pembroke tapped the desk. "Squeeze it. Count to ten. Step through fast. It won't open twice." Celestine studied him. "Why hand this to the person the whole council wants dead?" "Because they want me dead more," Pembroke said. "I sold votes. She sold them worse." He nodded at nothing, some absent councilor. "If Flux burns the whole ring, my name drowns in theirs." Flux weighed it. The jester could not guide them. The map was useless without a reader. But this small dull disc opened the door with no eyes at all. It also came from a man who lied for a living. Flux looked at the exhausted jester. Then at the pendant. "If this seals me inside their chamber, I don't come back." "No," Pembroke agreed. "You don't." Flux set the rug down beside the jester. They would not need it now. They pressed the pendant hard. It grew hot in their fist. "One," they said. A door of light cracked open in the dust room, wide enough for a body. Celestine stepped back. The jester lifted its head. Flux counted, and on ten they walked through into the council's chamber, alone, the door sealing shut behind them.