Jacob found Grim sitting on the edge of the veranda outside, wreathed in night’s shadow except for the glow that came through the windows, lighting the back of his head. Jacob sat down next to him with a sigh.

Grim got out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out halfway, offering it out to Jacob and regarding him seriously over the rim of his round glasses. He couldn’t have been older than forty, but his worn, sleep-starved countenance made him look at least ten years older.

“I don’t really smoke,” Jacob said, holding up a warding hand.

“You do when you’re talking to me,” Grim replied in a low, gravelly voice.

Jacob looked at the offered cigarette for a long while, then slowly withdrew it from its pack. “Whatever you say, wizard.”

Grim got one out for himself. With a snap of his fingers, a flame alighted on the tip of his index finger, which he used to light first his own, then Jacob’s cigarette. Shaking out the flame, he took a long drag and breathed out a relieved, smoky sigh.

Jacob puffed on his own, mostly out of politeness. It tasted like what he imagined licking an old fireplace would be like. “So. I guess you asked me out here for a reason.”

“Just to introduce myself.” Grim looked up at the thin channel of star-studded night sky visible over the towering walls of urban development.

Despite his words, he didn’t keep talking. They just sat there for a long time. There were still a few people walking about in the street, many of them drunk. It was terribly cold. He needed to get around to buying a jacket. At least the cigarette warmed him up a bit, if nothing else.

“That trick you did,” Jacob said once he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “I thought you were supposed to use chants and hand signs and all that kind of stuff to do magic.”

Grim took another long drag off his cigarette. “Not if you’re good at it.”

“And you are?”

“Relatively speaking.”

“Why’d you help Becca and the others? Why’d you take them through the waylines?”

Grim glanced over at him with a face that did not contain one mote of levity. Jacob could see where he got his nickname. “Your woman, Becca. She’s what I call a ‘locus’. Do you know about the Pattern?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotten that lecture before.”

“Good. The Pattern weaves through her, bunches up around her. She pulls other fates into her own by her sheer existence. Locuses are rare. Sometimes useful, sometimes devastating, but always bringers of change.

“I didn’t get it at first, but I do now. She’s a locus because of her connection to you. Because you, in turn, are the brightest I have ever seen. It’s a little frightening.”

“What does that mean? I’m some kind of Chosen One?”

Grim’s laugh was just as dry and joyless as the rest of him. “That would be very flattering for you, wouldn’t it? But no. You’re like an atomic bomb inside a jack-in-the-box. Except the explosion is the ripples you cause in people’s lives.”

“That sounds like the same thing to me.”

“It’s not. A Chosen One implies a specific goal, a task they’re destined to complete. You’re just… hyperreal. You’re free to destroy or create based on the paths you walk. Of course, choices are rarely that simple. And it’s certainly no shield against personal misfortune or an early death.”

“What about Becca?”

“What about her?”

“Is it dangerous for me to be around her?”

Grim shrugged, letting smoke billow from his mouth and sucking it in through his nostrils. “Maybe. Or it might be just as dangerous for you to be away from her. I don’t know if any of my kind could read the Pattern well enough to tell you for sure. I certainly can’t.”

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Act mindfully, aware of the sword hanging over your head. That’s the best you can do.”

Jacob’s cigarette burnt out on its own without much intervention, and he flicked away the butt. Grim was already midway through his second.

“You know you’re kind of sketchy, right?” Jacob said.

“You think so?” The light from inside glinted off the wizard’s glasses when he turned his head towards Jacob.

“Yeah. Becca seems to trust you, though.”

“I see.”

“Are you trustworthy?”

Grim took a long time to answer, pondering the stars. “Yes.”

“What’s with the pause?”

“It’s a serious question. I had to think about it.”

“What are your plans with Becca?”

Grim loosened his already wonky tie and undid the top button of his dress shirt, cigarette between his teeth. “Now that you’re here? Nothing. She’s incidental.”

Jacob found himself instinctively bristling at that, but it was probably better the less wrapped up in all this ‘Pattern’ business she was.

“What are your plans with me, then?”

“To offer my guidance, when possible, as someone who has traveled Creation longer than you.”

“And if I decline your guidance?”

Grim finished his second cigarette and stomped out the butt underfoot, exhaling a tight stream of smoke. “If you decline, I will be on my way. And you will have my pity.”

Jacob had no desire to learn anything about the Pattern or his place in it. He didn’t need that kind of existential worry in his life on top of everything else. But he worried even more about what would happen if he continued on, blissfully ignorant.

If it was just Grim talking about it, he might have ignored him. But it wasn’t the first time someone had singled out his importance in the Pattern.

“What do you know about a man named Ender?” Jacob asked. “Or Endarion, or… maybe something similar.”

Grim nodded slowly. “I know of him. What do I know about him? Not much, which is by his own design. He is someone who does much and reveals little. His fingerprints are everywhere if you look. He’s touched you, then?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He likely senses the same thing in you that I do.”

“Is he an enemy?”

“He walks the path of the trickster, giving with one hand and taking with the other. My advice; never turn him away from your door, but never presume to know his heart or his motives.”

“Is he human?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Then… is he a User? A mystic?”

“Maybe both. Maybe neither. I suggest you consider it a mystery you will never know the answer to, and leave it at that.”

Jacob had a lot to think about. He sat for a while mulling it over. Grim did not seem to mind the lull in conversation, and lit up a third cigarette to pass the time. The black silhouette of a ship passed overhead, studded with blinking lights.

“How much do you know about my Blessing?” Jacob asked after some time.

“Not much.”

“When I die, I come back to life. And while I’m dead, I get to travel through the afterlifes on the other side.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“I see,” he said flatly, neither surprised nor impressed.

“On one of these trips, I found something. A rune, I think. I drank some kind of divine sap, and this thing embedded itself in my mind, but I haven’t been able to use it. Does ‘Agari’ ring any bells to you?”

Grim nodded. “Agari is one of the arcane runes, yes. It belongs to the school of psychomancy, and it allows the caster to create illusions. The method by which you learned it is reminiscent of the System used by the thunes, which they call the Way. It is largely concerned with rune magic, and allows Users to gain complete spell impressions, as you have. An impression can never give a person true mastery of magic, but it can be useful as a layman’s crutch, or a supplementary tool for those wholly devoted to magic.”

“Do you think I could learn to use the rune?”

“Certainly. You already know it, you just don’t know that you know it. Or your body doesn’t. It’s like flexing a muscle you’ve never used before. Of course, there’s a greater obstacle in the way of you using magic in any capacity.”

“Which is?”

“You have to learn to channel the fundamental life force used to power runes and many other forms of magic. The thunes call it ‘nim’, and it is my preferred term as well, but you could call it ‘mana’ or simply ‘magic’ or ‘energy’.”

“Okay. Could you teach me it, since you’re a wizard and all?”

Grim puffed on his cigarette at length before replying. “No. I suspect neither of us are willing to devote that kind of time to each other. As much as I wish to help you, I have my own path to walk, and can only stay here for a short time. I could teach you a method by which you might be able to help yourself become attuned to nim. It might still take months or years with this method, but less time than if you were fumbling blindly.”

“I’ll take it. What’s the method?”

“Not now. Later.”

“All right. What now, then?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Marginally.”

“Good. Then we’re done.”

Grim stood, put out his last cigarette, and began walking away down the street.

“Uh, good talk, I guess?” Jacob called after him. “Are you not coming back inside?”

He turned around long enough to shake his head, then kept going. Jacob watched him go with a deep frown, arms crossed. The wizard stopped in the light of a street lamp by an intersection and looked left and right, as if unsure where he was going. Then he picked left, and disappeared around a corner.

There really are no normal magic users, are there?

Jacob spat to get the taste of ash out of his mouth, then stood up to go back inside the bar.

*****

Apparently, before going for his smoke break, Grim had given Tarim and Clara leave to use his apartment, which was sitting empty, and handed them keys. Tarim was happy to spend the night alone with his new girlfriend, and Jacob was happy to have the kid out of his hair for the night, so it was an easy deal.

Jacob and Becca were more than a little drunk when they got back to her place. They were planning on having sex, but never got that far as they passed out in each other’s arms.

Jacob slept badly. This time, in his nightmares, he was the one strangling Becca. He awoke panting at five in the morning. Both Becca and the wolf—who had forced itself between them in the night—groaned at the sudden movement.

He watched her sleep for a while. She had the same snort when she snored as when she laughed. She’d drooled onto her pillow, and her little nose was wrinkled from some dream she was having. He stroked an errant lock of hair from her face.

The sound of her snoring helped calm him a bit, but he still wasn’t able to fall asleep again. He got up early and started cleaning the apartment instead, stuffing bags full of trash and putting on several loads of laundry. Her closet was a mess of wrinkled clothes, so he had to sort that into neat stacks before he could fit the freshly washed stuff in.

He worked through dishes she’d piled up and wiped down the sticky countertop. She didn’t even own a vacuum cleaner, so he just swept the floors with a broom and dustpan, then mopped them. There was no time to get to the bathroom—a disaster for another time. Going to make her breakfast, he found her fridge, pantry, and freezer depressingly empty, because of course they were.

Due to that setback, he ventured outside to find someplace that sold groceries. He found a corner store just a block down inside the Works. The selection was limited and consisted of largely unfamiliar items, but he managed to fill two bags with ingredients he thought might be edible. The owner could tell that he was an Earther and overcharged him. Jacob wasn’t in the mood to argue, so he just paid the man and left.

The large, blue eggs he’d bought turned out to have contents that both looked and smelled fairly normal, allowing him to put together a decent omelet with just a bit of salt and pepper added. He made some french toast in a pan, and finally fried some stubby sausages from an animal called ‘kalyach’, whatever that was. Fenris got some cubed kalyach meat for breakfast, too. He seemed to like it.

To drink, Jacob pressed some citrusy-looking fruits with thick, leathery skin into juice. He tasted it to check how bad it was, and found that it was okay, if a little sour.

Jacob delivered the sleeping princess her breakfast in bed, using a cutting board as an improvised tray. He flicked her nose to wake her. It took her a minute to boot up, but once she smelled food she was soon wide awake.

“I love it when Big Brother makes me breakfast in bed,” she chirped before taking a big bite out of some toast.

“Sleep well?” Jacob asked, ignoring her incestuous fixations.

Becca hummed a ‘yes’ through her food.

As always, Jacob didn’t have much of an appetite, only putting away a few bites of omelet and some sausage, but seeing Becca enjoy the food filled him up vicariously.

He had hardly cleaned up after the meal when Thatch came to the door, and it was time for Jacob to head out. He was reluctant to leave Becca alone, but at least she had Fenris to look out for her.

Judging by his red eyes and nauseated pallor, Thatch had probably drank too much the night before. He had skipped the wacky tie, going for a neutral blue.

Familiar with his preferences, Jacob invited the director inside for a quick cup of coffee before they left, and he accepted happily. Becca had crawled into some sweatpants and a top by then, and joined them at the kitchen table. She lamented the lack of a fun tie, and Thatch shared her sentiment, but said that he had to keep it professional with the baron.

Coffee on Mars was just regular old coffee, but with a different strain of larger, coarser beans that gave a sharper flavor. Jacob wasn’t partial to it, but Thatch didn’t seem to mind.

*****

The highest part of the city, above the Stacks, was the Peaks. It could only be accessed by private elevators with guards posted outside of them, checking their System sigs against a list of approved guests before letting them through.

These rooftop neighborhoods were connected by their own little streets, with bridges running over the streets below. The only part of Standing that got any sun, there was greenery everywhere; tall moss growing on roofs, webs of vines clinging to walls, and rugged, fan-leaved ferns in big planters, various types of delicate flowers in greenhouses being dusted with water from ceiling-mounted sprinklers. The plants were clearly derived from Earth species, but were adapted to thrive in the cold climate.

The compact size of the city meant that most places were within convenient walking distance. The baron’s palace was the centerpiece of the city and could be seen from afar above the skyline; a hulking heap of gleaming gold and pure white stone, busy with domes and columns and carved embellishments. A gaudy piece of work.

Rather than walk the whole way, Thatch suggested they take one of the only forms of street vehicles available in Standing; motorized, self-driving rickshaws rented by the hour. Having to be squeezed together in the narrow seating area felt a little homoerotic for Jacob’s liking, but he put up with it to be merciful on the old man’s knees.

There was another identity check at the gilded front gates of the palace. They were escorted to a lounge by an attendant wearing an excessively poofy and frilly outfit, where they were told to wait. Soft music played in the background, and there were a few members of court milling about, conversing and playing chess. The same attendant returned some time later to offer them spiced roll cakes. They were pretty good, but Jacob was mostly annoyed about the wait.

After over an hour, they were received by a young man in a gold-embroidered green coat and thin white gloves. A leather holder hung from his belt with a deck of cards protruding from it.

“Welcome, welcome,” he said, riffling through the deck with his thumb. “My lord father is indisposed at the moment, but you can talk to me for the time being. I am Sir Anton. I believe I met you briefly yesterday, Director Thatch. And you must be Jacob Sorenson. We are pleased to welcome one of the Nine into our home—the stories of your victory on Earth have been running rampant for the past two weeks.”

I guess they’re taking this Knights of the Round Table cosplay thing pretty seriously.

The knight(?) waved towards a pair of finely dressed ladies. Upon catching Jacob’s gaze, they squealed with something that sounded more like fear than enamoration and scampered off holding their skirts.

“There have been many stories about the Hanged Man, specifically. Is it true that you killed two thousand demons on your own?”

“Well, I didn’t stop to count them or anything, but sure, why not?” Jacob was not about to turn down any credit thrown his way, earned or not.

“They say that you rose back up again no matter how many times they cut you down, and that the demons feared you so much that they ran from your gaze.”

“Well, you know how it is.”

“As a hero myself, I find your courage inspiring.”

Jacob nodded towards his deck of cards. “Is that a Blessed item, then?”

He plucked out the deck and shuffled through it with a series of grand flourishes, beaming with obvious pride. “You have a sharp eye, sir. Its name is Chance at Glory. I draw a trio of cards, then gain an effect based on the story those cards tell. A fine ability, and I’m just beginning to mine its potential.”

“Uh-huh. That’s good.” Jacob cast Thatch a sideways glance. The director made an insistent ‘just play along’ kind of face back.

Anton led them out into a flowering courtyard filled with statues and sparkling fountains. He smiled at several curtsying ladies along the way, and stopped to pluck a pink flower from the grass to give one of them.

This guy really thinks he’s hot shit.

“Even though you are not of our order, I believe it is appropriate to call you Sir Sorenson, given your achievements,” Anton said in a serious tone.

“Call me whatever you like. I don’t care.”

“I’ve asked my father to have you accompany me on my next diplomatic assignment, and he has agreed. We’re going to war, you see. You will be glad to hear that the savage raping of Earth will not go unpunished. The barons are of one mind to wipe Creation clean of urgeks, so that not even one of their wretched kind remains. To that end, we are recruiting as many powerful allies as we can find. I will be going to meet one of these potential allies soon, which is where I would like you to accompany me.”

“To be clear, this is a paid excursion, yes? I’m not expected to fight for… honor or something?”

“Of course. My father’s coffers stand open and waiting. Your name alone will bring added legitimacy to our cause.”

“The Crusade of Reprisal.”

“Yes, that’s right. I see you are well-informed already.” Anton turned to face Jacob, hands clasped behind his back. “So, what do you think?”

Jacob shrugged. “Depends. Who’s this person you’re going to meet with?”

“Gorgobaryx. You may have heard of him.”

He had.

This kid is going to get himself killed.