A Game of Universe (24 page)

“Yes, yes, held within these walls for two hundred years, it is a tribute to her willpower that she has not gone mad with boredom.” I regretted the sarcasm in my voice. The ambassador had placed himself in grave jeopardy to tell me what I already knew. He deserved my respect for that.

“No, Sire,” he replied, “it is not only that. She loved Osrick. Had he asked her to run away with him, she would have. That was the true reason for our scheme. We had to separate the two. She had no idea what opportunities might be lost. It is not only her imprisonment and her curse that we are responsible for. We broke her heart as well.”

All this time Osrick believed the princess concocted the illness with her mother. Yet, if she truly desired to marry the prince, she could have lied to her father, and told him she loved him. There was no reason for her to feign sickness. Why hadn’t I realized this before? Had my jealousy blinded me so? Only the Queen, her adviser, and this ambassador were responsible. There were the villains.

I reached for my sword, intended to cut the ambassador down where he stood for his treachery, but stopped. I was not Osrick. Part of me, yes, but not all. I swallowed the boiling rage, silently recited the mantra of peace taught to me by the Corporation, and regained my composure.

“All I ask m’lord is that you treat her with all due kindness, and avoid her touch until she is cured.” He smiled and changed the subject. “You look magnificent.” From the folds of his crimson cloak, he removed a brush and flicked the dust off my shoulders. “The chapel is ready. We may begin as soon as you wish.”

I looked upon the battlefield. Bren on the walls were regrouping, still in shock from the small sun that had landed in their midst. The star cannon inched forward upon its treads. An army of red ants surrounded the castle. I searched in vain for some trace of Virginia. She was gone.

The gambler gave me his professional opinion:
A hundred to one odds that the Bren win.

“I am ready now.”

I followed the ambassador across a slender bridge to the tallest tower in the courtyard. Through a short hallway, then I mounted three steps, white, blue, and red stone. Beyond this, an archway of alabaster framed the royal chapel. Tiny cherubs with Mona Lisa smiles held the archway open for me. Inside stood sterling braziers, three rows of ivory pews, and an altar held at each corner by an angel wielding a sword with a broken tip. Two centuries ago Osrick died here.

While I prayed at that altar, the Queen’s men came for me, all stealth and shadows and knives, and took my life before I could duel the prince and claim my love.

I had come to this spot again to take what was rightfully mine. Yet, if Sister Olivia’s men found us before that, if I died again moments before I had Lilian, there would be no magic to bring me back, no mythical Cup of Regulus to curse my enemies.

The ambassador and I marched down the aisle. He stepped to my right, and took his place as my best man.

Get a grip on reality,
Fifty-five hissed.
The talisman, remember? You’re going to use that to get us out of here. Concentrate.

The Queen was on my left, dressed in black, the silver chain and little stone man hanging about her neck.

Grab it, use it, and escape,
Fifty-five urged.

You think the Queen, King, and princess, all skilled muses, will let me get away with that?

Kill them. You’ve got a knife, Medea, and the element of surprise. They’ll be dead before they blink twice.

I considered. Osrick swore to serve the King and Queen. He could never kill them. Yet, I saw the logic in Fifty-five’s advice. How could I marry this girl and drag her along with me? She’d only slow me down. I didn’t know what to do. Indecision rumbled in my stomach. My head swam with vertigo even though my feet were firmly planted.

Bishop Thomason took his place at the altar. I had known him in another life, slightly senile, and extremely long-winded, but otherwise a pleasant, well-meaning man.

The princess entered and my dizziness vanished.

A triangular veil of lacy gauze and a lattice of seed pearls covered her face. Waves of her lustrous black hair had been woven together with bands of diamonds and sparkled with blue rainbows. The dress she wore was a work of great enchantment. Four lace roses molded her body, and embroidered upon the flowers, tiny bees and hummingbirds moved across the fabric, chased whatever scent the flowers held; the rose petals opened slightly when the birds probed for the nectar within. About her waist, a belt of solid silver traced her slim figure, came to a point and arced down where her navel was, then curved up and over her hips. A river of unblemished white silk splashed down her legs, flowed into a train behind her and rippled softly as it caught in a breeze. She was mesmerizing.

Are you out of your mind!
Fifty-five cried.
No one in Umbra Corp gets married.

Shhhh,
Celeste hissed.
This is a very special moment for us. I’m not going to let you screw it up.

King Eliot escorted Lilian to the altar. As she neared, an odd collection of emotions fermented inside me: Osrick knew a joy unparalleled, a smattering of lust, and love unbounded; Germain knew only apprehension, and grief for Virginia.

All these things disappeared when she stood by my side. An icy dagger of fear drove into the base of my spine: the feeling any animal has when cornered.

“Please,” the Bishop instructed me, “remove her veil.”

I noticed she wore silver gloves that covered her hands and arms up past the elbow, and recalled what would happen if I accidentally touched her skin. I reached forward carefully, sensing a weak field of sorcery about her, and drew the veil from her face.

It was as if I saw her for the first time; it was as if I had known her all my life. Moist lips Osrick had once kissed, skin smoother than any alabaster angel’s, and a face that had driven him mad with jealousy, insane with desire, a face to die for—yet, her eyes, there was no denying what I saw in them. They were the darkest of blues, a shade fairer than black, and set full with a shrewdness that no amount of Osrick’s love could obscure.

I couldn’t kid myself. She was here to get rid of her curse, not because of any affection for me. And I was only here for the Queen’s talisman, to escape. There was no love at all.

“Today,” Bishop Thomason said, “we are gathered here for the most joyous of occasions, matrimony. It is a blessed tradition, and the most prized state two people may exist in.”

A slight tremor shook the tower, but no one seemed to notice.

“Opposites come together to form a new, stronger, divine whole. But this day is special, different in that it is circumstance rather than love that brings these two people together.” He smiled at both of us.

A blast somewhere, close, a faint scream. The ambassador looked about nervously. He heard it, too.

“The nature of the universe is planned and random, a balance of the serendipitous and the uniform, as is the nature of love. Even elliptical paths still curve and turn at a single point—as both of you are doing today. Duty, purpose, and love have little to do with a successful marriage. Those who flourish open their hearts to possibility, open their hearts to understanding, and embrace the nature of their partner, whatever that may be.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the Queen signaling the Bishop to hurry up.

His pace picked up dramatically. “Please, Prince Germain, the rings.”

The ambassador handed me a simple golden band.

“Place the ring on Princess Lilian’s finger and repeat after me.”

Echoes in the hallway. The sound of boots on the marble floor.

King Eliot drew his sword and stepped in between Lilian and the chapel’s entrance. “Hurry up!” he commanded the Bishop. “There is no time.” In his left hand he held a twelve-pointed Philosopher Stone, and squeezed it until a ribbon of blood snaked down his wrist. The crystal blushed with ruby light, and the King tossed it into the archway where it immediately swelled and absorbed the stone about it. Its twelve points ballooned into muscular arms and legs, six of each. Sterling braziers to either side were drawn into the growing figure. Then the arch closed in upon itself and the marble floor formed an outer skin.

The thing reminded me of Aaron, a creature of stone. But Aaron was a work of art, and this was a crude composite. It looked clumsy and cobbled together from spare parts. It struggled to find a form.

In the hall, past the growing lump of rock, I glimpsed red armor and white crucifixes. Orders were barked, then rifles fired. Lightning traced the surface of the stone creature and it writhed in pain. The smell of molten metal filled the chapel.

“Guard the breach,” King Eliot commanded the creature.

His six muscular arms grabbed the sides of the chapel entrance and braced. Smoldering coals from the braziers surfaced upon its skin—and blinked! The tiny cherubs that once flew in the arch now swam in the collective components of the golem. They broke its smooth marble skin in patches like melanoma. Their heads, arms, legs, and tiny wings stuck out at odd angles.

I slipped the ring onto Lilian’s gloved finger and she placed one onto mine.

More deadly than your exploding ring
, whispered Fifty- five.
Mark my words.

I know,
I whispered. But we had both lost the one we cared for—we could not do so again.

Lilian sank to her knees and I followed her cue. The Bishop sang a prayer in Latin as fast as he could and offered us a holy wafer. It tasted like nothing, pasty, falling apart into a bland mush as soon as it was in my mouth.

“By the power invested in me by God and King, I pronounce you man and wife.” He managed to slip in, “May God bless you both during all the days you shall live, and may you bear endless progeny.”

That’s it?
Celeste demanded.
No kiss?

More shots fired in the outer hall and cracked the stone creature’s body. It bent down and pulled out the white, blue, and red marble steps with three of its arms. Three legs braced forward, and three back; three arms clamped the wall, and the other three held the marble steps as a knight might hold a shield before him.

I turned to the Queen. “The talisman, quickly. The princess and I can still escape.”

“Mother?” Lilian said and took a step toward her. Queen Isadora toyed with the chain about her throat then yanked it free, and handed it to me. “I am forced to trust you, Prince Germain. Know that if you deceive me and break our pact, I shall set a curse upon you that will follow you wherever you go.”

“I have no doubt,” I said and snatched it. “How does it work?”

From the hall came an explosion. Fissures cracked the stone creature’s skin.

“Hold the little man within your hand,” the Queen instructed and glanced nervously to the chapel’s entrance. “Concentrate upon that which you do not remember. The spirit within will do the rest.”

What I wanted was the mnemonic lore I lost at Golden City, the sorcery within Omar’s mind. The crystals within the talisman grew hot, but I held it tighter. The memories, faint at first, collected in my thoughts, they surfaced like an oil slick upon water, and brought with it something else I lost: Omar.

You double-crossed me,
Omar whispered.
You stole the memories that took me a decade to learn. For what? To switch cards. You sent my soul to Hell for a game! Let me tell you what it’s like in Hell, friend, because they know you. They have special plans for you.

I am sorry, Omar, but I must use your
Abridged Manifoldification
again.

No! I’ll do any deal you want. Do not send me back. You cannot imagine what it is like.

I must. There are two lives at risk now, not two cards. And one of the lives is mine.

Omar struggled to possess my body. My willpower was doubled, however. I was Sir Osrick of the Silver Sword, the Bold Rider of Kenobrac. I crushed Omar, and wrenched the engrams from him. It exchanged two equivalent masses across any distance. One had only to visualize the object, and they instantly swapped.

King Eliot came to the princess, and gave his daughter half a hug, so as not to soil her dress with his bloody hand. “I charge you with her safety, Prince Germain. Do not fail me.”

“I shall not,” I said, so convincingly that even I believed it.

“And what of you?” Lilian asked her father.

“Child, worry not about us. Your mother and I can take care of this distraction.”

The rifles outside ceased firing. The stone warrior turned its head inward and looked to the King. Several of its eyes were blasted away, and the marble skin was fractured and crumbling to pieces.

“Hold your ground,” the King ordered.

It turned, reluctantly, and braced itself for another round from the soldiers.

I unbuckled the ambassador’s sword and returned it to him. “You will need this more than me,” I said.

The ambassador swung it once as if he knew how to use it, then nodded to me.

Taking Lilian’s hand, I drew her close to me, and whispered, “We must stand together for the sorcery to work.” In truth, it was never designed to transport two things together. I took an awful risk by bringing her along. There was no choice however; Osrick couldn’t leave her behind.

The soldiers fired again. I felt the vibration through the floor. One of the stone creature’s legs crumbled, the face of a cherub went sliding across the floor, and the wall about the archway buckled. Without knowing I had done it, I put my arms around the princess to protect her. She in kind stepped closer to me.

I released the mnemonics, allowed it to uncoil from my mind. Information I had never learned poured into my mind, then unraveled along with the memory of Omar—along with his soul.

Please
, Omar pleaded.
We can make a deal. Do not let me die thusly.

If there was another way,
I told him,
I would.
I felt a twinge of guilt over this cowardly act, sending Omar back to Hell. It must have been Osrick.

In my mind the
Abridged Manifoldification
took shape. I visualized my home at the Corporation. There was a statue in my living room. I judged it approximately the same mass as the princess and me. I hoped it was.

The stone warrior shattered. Coals and angels and stone flew in every direction. The only thing I could see was the outline of the ambassador, standing in a cloud of dust, his sword in hand to meet the first of the soldiers with their pistols drawn. Electrical discharges lit the cloud about the ambassador. He stabbed the first of Olivia’s men to step into the chapel.