The pyramid cast a gray shadow in the upper quadrant of Benno’s vision.

They had relocated to Edda’s apartment. Recipient sat draped in Onus’ lap, purring. The curtains were open, and the low sun bled across the water, turning the room’s white marble pink. Holes was nestled in the crook of Benno’s shoulder, and was, as far as he could tell, asleep.

“With Sul dead,” Onus went on. “The Wardens would lose their providence. The advisors. The Twins. Our father, the Scattered King, would expire both in body and whatever bleeding fragment of mind is left in Sul’s possession. Edda and I could retake Luridia. We could rescue it and its ancillary Realms—many trillions of lives—into a better age.”

“So there’s no Gardens,” was all Benno could think to say.

“The Gardens is what Edda liked to call Chavanuck. It was facetious—or maybe strategic. After the War, most called it the Gray Wastes. Things have many names, don’t they?”

Benno exhaled. “But there’s no being giving out wishes.”

“The only being is Sul. And though it is certainly capable, I do not suspect it is in the business of granting wishes.”

Benno rubbed his face, shook his head, and glared into a corner of the room.

Onus had changed into a set of white clothes that fit loose on his long body. The thousands of white cuts across his skin were already appearing to heal—though it may have been a trick of the reddish light. “What would you have wished for?” he asked.

Benno shrugged. “What does it matter?”

Onus ran a knuckle along the line of his jaw. “You were touched,” he said. “For some reason, you were touched by Sul—the only other besides my father and his acolytes, and the only outside the Realm of Chavanuck. And differently, it seems, than any other. If there was doubt, it is gone. You killed a Warden of Sul. You tore his body open. The implications of this cannot be overstated. It changes the calculus.”

—dlorsulanimacdlorsulsigandlorsulvoc—

“Why do they call it Sul?” Benno asked.

“The Wardens started referring to it as such after the War. I don’t know why.” Onus studied Benno. “Do you?”

—dlorsulhevegdlorsulbistandlorsulket—

“No.” Benno’s fingers prodded at the pyramid in his forehead. “What is this?”

“I don’t know,” Onus said. “Some unforeseen symptom of killing a Warden.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why was I touched by Sul? I didn’t ask for that. I’m not of any use to it. I’m just… I’m nobody.”

Onus shook his head. “If I knew, I would tell you.”

Benno took a slow breath. Why him? He’d asked the question a million times, with not a single inkling of where or how to seek an answer. And now, with so much information, the answer seemed, somehow, even more elusive than before. Benno was nobody. He was nothing like August Kane or the other advisors. He was nothing like the Twins or the Scattered King. He had absolutely nothing in common with any of them…

“Wait.” Benno sat forward. “If the others lose their providence—and their Permanence—when Sul dies, does that mean I will also lose my Permanence?”

Onus looked deeply at Benno. “It may.”

Through the window, something leapt from the water, glistened in the dying light, and splashed back down.

“Edda had the heart,” Benno said eventually. “Caln has the brain. The Twins have the eyes. What do you have?”

Onus sneered at the wall. “I’d rather not say.” He scooted Recipient off his lap. “But you will see for yourself. The Twins will be coming for me. And for you. We will stop at my cabin. I need to retrieve something, for what comes next.”

“And what does come next?”

Onus grinned, his teeth wide and straight like his sister’s, and for the first time Benno saw the proud man behind the scarred and sorrowful face. “I’m going to need a few minutes to figure that out.”

#

Benno made his way back to his room—his new room, next to the old one—and sat on the bed. Holes stirred on his shoulder, then again was still. Benno could sleep too. But when he closed his eyes, the silent words—

—dlorsulceptadlorsulepicasdlorsulrot—

—rushed and seethed. So he stared into the room’s corner, where the floor lamp with its beige shade stood, leaning slightly, as the minutes lumbered by.

“I thought I was done with you,” he said eventually.

“Nice to see you too, creep.”

Benno adjusted his beard so that it draped over his thigh.

“Really embracing the wandering Jew look, huh.” Jason wheezed from the mangled passage of his throat. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any more fucking uncouth.”

“I don’t think you know what uncouth means.”

“As long as you do.”

The mustard carpet under Jason’s boots darkened with melting ice.

“So why’d you drag me back here?” Jason asked, leaning an inch forward. “I thought by now you’d have it all figured out. The goal. The plan. You’d be well on your way.”

Benno thought for a moment. “I’m trying to reconcile something,” he said. “I’m trying to reconcile the version of Edda Onus described—this impassioned revolutionary committed to peace and decolonization—with the terrifying woman who gleefully oversaw the murder of two helpless Forrorians, and celebrated the recapture of a Baba’ba’ksum at the expense of how many? hundreds? thousands of innocent lives? They don’t seem like the same person. And I can’t help but feel that someone’s being lied to. And it’s probably me.”

The gaping holes of Jason’s swollen nostrils widened and contracted. “People can be different things at different times,” he said. “I mean look at you, creep. You’re the most murderous piece of shit I ever met—though maybe I’m a little biased. But that’s not what you are to Onus. That’s not what you were to your family, not really. And to yourself… I think you’re a bit of both. A monster and a victim. Just like Edda. Just like everyone.”

Benno moved his beard to the other thigh.

“But I don’t think that’s really what’s bothering you,” Jason went on, leaning another inch forward. “I don’t think that’s why I’m here.”

“So then why?” Benno asked.

Jason shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

A knock came to the door.

Holes startled and raised its petals, groggy.

Benno blinked at the lamp in the corner for a moment, then stood. “Come in.”

Onus poked his head into the room. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said. “I’ll be in the hangar. I figured we should travel in style.”

Benno nodded with what he hoped approximated agreeableness. “I’ll be there soon.”

Onus grinned and shut the door.

“Are we going on another adventure?” Holes asked, its voice hoarse with sleepiness.

Through the bathroom doorway, half of Benno’s body stood in the mirror, small.

“Try to sleep a bit more,” he said, touching Holes’ plasticky petals. “You’re going to need your strength.”

Holes curled itself on Benno’s shoulder and fell promptly back to sleep.

Benno sat down on the bed, folded his hands in his lap, and had a good, long cry.

#

“Ah, the Shenandoah.”

Onus played at the vessel’s console. He’d changed clothes again, this time into a leather one-piece replete with straps and buckles that reminded Benno of something Billy Idol might’ve worn. His blue hair was slicked back from his face, and Benno was certain now that the scores of white cuts across his skin were, in fact, healing rapidly, most already too faint to see.

“I love what she’s done with it in here.” Onus gestured to the bridge without looking up from the screen. “Though I’m not sure how I feel about this new interface.”

Benno sat at the table, drumming his fingers on his knee. “Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Onus waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. “Nonsense. I’ll have this sorted out in moments, and we’ll be on our way.” He dangled a finger over the console. “I just don’t understand why she insisted on ciphering everything so aggressively.” He tapped something, then something else. “Between this and the journals…”

Benno sat forward. “Could you read them?”

“Hm? No. She was far too meticulous in her code-making… Though I suppose her paranoia was a virtue, until it wa—”

Music blared suddenly.

I call you when I need you, my heart’s on fire…

Onus grimaced.

Benno chuckled, his absentminded drumming finding absentminded rhythm.

“I never did get her taste in music!” Onus swatted at the console. “So meek!”

You come to me, come to me wild and wi—

The music cut off. Benno cleared his throat and adjusted his posture, briefly disappointed.

“Ah, here we are.” The screen glittered to purple life. Onus swiped and tapped a series of triangles until he found the one he was looking for. “I don’t plan to spend much time there. You won’t even need to disembark unless you want to.” He nodded at Benno. “Are you certain we need to bring that with us?”

Benno raised his eyes. The pyramid obscured any sight of Holes, perched on his head.

“Yes.”

“Of course.” Onus bowed, slight and cordial, signaling deference, and it occurred to Benno that the Luridian heir was—and how could he not be?—afraid of him. “Here we go then.” He tapped a final triangle, and the bridge went dark.

#

Onus’ cabin, as it turned out, was anything but.

Beneath a uniform gunmetal sky, on a gentle hill surrounded by acres of craggy rock, arid shrubs and grapevine, the elaborate building sprawled with numerous ells and wings, balconies and terraces, courtyards, plazas and gardens. Finials, adorned with stars, lined the green-copper roof. From the hovering Shenandoah, it looked to Benno like the baroque palaces he’d seen pictured in history textbooks as a child, Schloss Solitude or, more so, the Palacio Real de la Granja. It was alone on the otherwise rural landscape, with no road visible through the gently sloping hills of rock and clusters of brittle plants in all directions. Like so many other things Benno had encountered since being taken from his trailer, Onus’ mansion could have been a celebrated landmark in Benno’s own Realm, inconspicuous—besides for its opulent grandeur—in every single way but one:

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Floating over a rectangular pond lined with statues, reflected back in the gray water, was an enormous severed penis, erect at an angle so that its head reared over the mansion.

“That sucks,” Benno said.

Onus exhaled briskly through his nostrils. “Well put.”

He guided the Shenandoah down over a patch of dirt—badly in need of weeding—and landed it with a lurch.

“It doesn’t appear as neglected as I feared,” Onus said, stepping away from the console as the doorway melted open on the side of the hull.

Benno followed him out onto the dirt. The air was cold and dry, and smelled faintly of mint. Holes scurried from Benno’s head onto his shoulder.

“This won’t take long,” Onus said as he headed toward the mansion. “Have a walk around the grounds. There’s a statue garden just on the south side.” He disappeared around a brittle hedge and a second later the sound of a door opened softly.

Benno strolled along the perimeter of the patch of dirt, where small beige rocks were spaced, each one engraved with a different foreign symbol. He stooped to pick one up, and hefted it in his hand as his eyes crept up to the penis, whose tip protruded over the top of the mansion, menacing.

“Do you like him?” Holes asked out of nowhere.

“Who? Onus?”

“Yeah.”

Benno shrugged. “Do you?”

Holes’ threads tickled Benno’s neck. “Why’s he so mad?”

“Mad?” Benno tossed the rock away, and it clacked on the hard ground. “He hasn’t said anything that makes me think he’s mad.”

“Not said…” Holes made a soft whistling sound. “He’s mad inside.”

“He’s mad inside?”

“Like how Jack is mad even when he’s being nice. Or even when he isn’t doing anything at all. Just mad.”

Benno chewed this over.

“Why do you think Jack was mad?” Holes went on. “Do you think the Overlook made him mad? Or was it something in him?”

“I think it’s complicated,” Benno said, looking up at the mansion’s finials. “I think he had something in him, like everybody. But I think the Overlook—or the circumstances he found himself in inside the Overlook—made it come out. And I guess with Onus… He does have a lot to be mad about.”

“Why didn’t it come out of Wendy or Danny?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said Jack had something in him like everybody. Wendy and Danny is everybody. They were in the Overlook too. They found themselves in the same circumstances. But they didn’t get mad. They stayed nice the whole time.”

The mansion’s crenelated roofline was still against the unblemished sky beyond.

“So what was different about Jack?” Holes continued. “Why did the Overlook make his madness come out but not Wendy’s and Danny’s?”

“Smoke…” Benno squinted into the gray sky.

“Smoke was different about Jack?”

“There’s smoke.” Benno pointed to the roof, where a faint tendril of gray smoke rose up from an unseen chimney, blending seamlessly into the gray sky.

Holes turned its petals upward. “Is that bad?”

“Let’s go check on Onus.” Benno cut through the patch of dirt and rounded the hedge, where a glass door stood ajar onto a row of pale curtains.

The mansion’s interior was both unsurprising and eerie: a long, high-ceilinged hallway with polished granite floors and walls, exactly as grand as the building’s exterior suggested. But beside for the curtains lining the glass doors along one side, there was no furniture. No carpet, no artwork, no adornment of any kind. There was, however, a pale strip along the length of the floor where it appeared a carpet might have lain for a long time, and similar pale rectangles on the walls where framed pictures might have hung. The place had been cleaned out. Probably, Benno reasoned, around the time Onus was locked up.

Benno scrunched his eyes shut and trained his hearing first up one end of the hallway, then the other. There was a sound, faint. Rustling. A shoe scuffing, maybe. Or a grunt.

The hallway bent sharply right and came to a set of tall double doors. Benno pushed through them and stepped into a yawning room where Onus stood, panting, his hands stained red.

At his feet, a body. A man, small like Benno. His white bathrobe was tangled around his waist, his arms tucked under his body, his face flat on the floor. Beside him, a fire poker, its point lying in a puddle of blood.

The fire raging in the enormous mantle on the far side of the room crackled and spat.

“What happened?” Benno asked.

Onus startled and turned. His pale face was flushed, and his orange eyes wild.

“A squatter,” he said. “He came at me.” He pointed to the fire poker.

Benno took a step deeper into the room. There was a wooden chair set near the fire, with a small table beside it on which a short stack of books rested. In the far corner, a modest bed stood, neatly made, a nightstand with additional books beside it, and a wooden chest at the bed’s foot, open, with folded clothes. In the opposite corner, a bucket with a sponge balanced on its rim, a towel hanging on a nail protruding from the wall, and a toothbrush in a cup.

“A squatter,” Benno said. “He came at you.”

“I startled him.” Onus cleared his throat and, noticing his bloody hands, wiped them on the black leather of his one-piece. “Who know’s how long he’s been here. I had a groundskeeper, Golo, who came by a few times a year, but I’m afraid he’s long passed on. No bother.” Onus nodded briskly and grinned his proud grin. “It’s taken care of now.”

Benno watched Onus cross the room to another door.

“You may as well join me,” Onus said over his shoulder. “Since you’re already inside.”

“You said you were grabbing a few things,” Benno said. “But it looks like the place has been cleaned out.”

“Yes.” Onus opened the door into another hallway. “The Twins had everything removed after my arrest. Or at least everything they could find.”

Benno glanced down at the body. He couldn’t see the face. The head, arms, legs and back were flecked with clumps or wiry gray hair. An old man. No threat to the eleven foot tall Onus, future King of Luridia. Certainly not barefoot, clad in a bathrobe, and armed with a fire poker…

Benno followed Onus at a mindful distance.

The hallway brought them to a wide staircase, which led to a landing and additional hallways. At the end of one, a door, inlaid with intricate floral patterns. Onus took the handle and pushed—but it was locked.

“For fuck’s sake.” He pulled his newly minted Gemstoke from one of the numerous pockets in his one-piece. “Gemma. Give me a… Whatever. An axe.”

Benno felt Holes’ threads tighten around his shoulder.

Onus bit his bottom lip as he raised the axe high overhead, his back arching, and swung it down with all his strength.

CRRRCH!

The axe splintered the door’s panel.

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this.” Holes burrowed against Benno’s neck.

“It’s okay,” Benno placed his hand gently on the flower’s plasticky petals. “It’s not like the movie.”

Onus wrenched the axe free, raised it, and brought it down again.

CRRRCH!

Mad inside…

CRRRCH!

CRRRCH!

Onus tossed the axe aside—it vanished into silence—and stuck his arm through the jagged hole in the door. He felt around until he found the bolt, turned it, withdrew his arm, turned the handle, and opened the door gently.

“After you,” he said, his straight teeth glinting.

Benno kept his hand over Holes as he stepped around Onus and through the door.

Another large room, this one totally and completely empty, with another fireplace—cold—on the far wall and a row of curtain-less windows overlooking a weedy garden and, beyond it, the stiff, looming penis.

“Still smells the same in here,” Onus said, standing in the middle of the room with his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath. “Like coffee and cigarettes. Speaking of which.” He raised Gemma to his mouth. “Gemma. How about two espressos. And two Pall Malls—” He pointed at Benno and raised an eyebrow.

Benno shook his head.

“One Pall Mall.”

Gemma manifested the espressos, in plane white cups, and the single cigarette. Onus placed the cigarette in his lips, the espresso sloshing over one cup’s rim, and handed the other cup to Benno.

“Being back here—Gemma, fire.” Onus lit the cigarette and breathed deeply. “It makes me so nostalgic. Watching the sun come up over the gardens after a night of reverie. Sleeping late into the afternoons. The lack of rain—why my father chose this place after a lifetime in the paludal Luridia. He gave it to me for my hundredth birthday. A cabin to escape the demands of rulership. He told me to bring friends here, lovers. I only truly had one of each.” He lowered his nose over the espresso and inhaled. “A retired life. All but forgotten. Though never forgotten…” He raised the cup. “To retired lives. Never forgotten.”

I’m always here.

Benno raised his cup. “To retired lives.”

They drank.

“Well.” Onus tossed the empty cup away and fixed the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get on with this. Gemma, I need a marble. Glass.”

Benno watched as Onus plucked the marble—just a normal glass marble like the ones he and his brother used to play with as kids—from the air, surveyed the floor, and set it down at a spot near the middle of the room.

For a few seconds, the marble was still. Then it started to roll. Slowly at first, but faster and faster, in a wide arc, and a narrower arc, until it was circling one point on the floor, no bigger than an inch, and finally slowed to a stop there, at the imperceptible nadir of the room.

Onus stooped, picked up the marble and tossed it away without taking his eyes off the spot on the floor. He knelt, and, with the tip of his long middle finger, tapped thrice—two times quickly and once after a pause—on the spot so gently it was possible he didn’t make contact at all. And again, for a few more seconds, nothing happened.

Then there was a click, and when Benno looked over, a rectangle—a doorway—had opened on the far wall where before there were no seams or apertures of any kind.

Onus stood. “Nothing like a good old fashioned trapped door,” he said, heading for the new passageway. “Just springs and hinges. Edda built it when she was very young.”

Benno followed, balancing his undrunk espresso. The doorway led to a narrow staircase made of—surprise—dark, sooty concrete. Onus held a light outstretched in his hand as they descended. A smell of dust and old wood came up to meet them.

The staircase gave into a small chamber. Benno felt the floor change under his feet before he noticed the layer of wood flooring. Onus tugged a string dangling from the ceiling, and a warm glow replaced Gemma’s glaring light. It wasn’t much: a small chamber, the walls wood-paneled, with a single wooden table against the far wall. It was a normal room. On the table, however, was an object so strange that at first Benno couldn’t even process its dimensions.

A white sphere, it seemed, for a moment, then a white cube, then a cuboid, then a cone, then some multi-angled shape with no name, then a cone again, then a sphere, then something else. It didn’t morph, but rather flickered—spasmed, Benno thought—from one iteration to the next, moment to moment, like a flame fighting through a log. As he peered at it, he noticed that it wasn’t even on the table, but rather floating just over it, mere centimeters. It cast no light. It appeared to be made of plastic, or metal, or flesh, or…

“Thank goodness.” Onus stood over the table, looking down at the object. “I was nervous for a moment, that it wouldn’t be here. But it looks like the ingenuity of a hidden door—tested by time—has proven effective once again.”

“What is it?” Benno asked, wanting to look closer but—inexplicably—afraid to get near.

“This is the Tefached.” Onus said, indulging the pharyngeal fricative, which caught Benno off guard. “It is a weapon passed from father to son, to mark the changing of one generation to the next. It is—aside from the mandate inherent in heirdom—the most useful tool for maintaining order and authority, and what gave Horus and his forefathers their incontestable dominion. I would have inherited it when I inherited the Nation from Horus.”

“And yet here it is,” Benno said.

Onus laughed. “Indeed. Back when things were…chaotic in Luridia, before my father left for Chavanuck to make his unholy pact with Sul, I managed to take part of the Tefached from his quarters. I had a feeling that Horus’ mental state might continue to deteriorate, and I needed some assurance—some advantage—against anyone who might attempt to interrupt my birthright. Unfortunately, my foresight was only partial: I stowed it here, thinking there was time, but was arrested shortly after. So here it’s remained, tucked away. Not even Edda knew I’d taken it.”

There was heat emanating from the Tefached, Benno noticed, warming his face but dissipating almost instantly into the cool, dry chamber. “You said you took part of it. So Horus still has the rest?”

Onus shrugged. “I don’t know what need Horus would have for the Tefached in his current… condition. But yes, in short. The bulk of it remained with him at the time of the War he fought in Chavanuck alongside Sul. Wherever it is now, I cannot say.”

“How does it work?”

Onus grinned. “You will see.” He removed the stub of his cigarette from his lips and stomped it out on the floor, then stood over the table and extended one long hand toward the Tefached. As his fingers neared, it bent and reached back toward him—not unlike the magnetic sand Benno used to give his students to play with—and spasmed faster. Onus gasped as his skin made contact, and the Tefached curled and fit around his fingers. He lifted it, breathing quickly, eyed it for a moment, then stuffed it into a pocket in the chest of his one-piece, tamping it down when it roiled back up briefly and then zipping the pocket shut tight.

“We need to keep moving,” he said, starting back to the stairs. “We are supremely lucky to have not crossed paths yet with the Twins. They are undoubtedly mobilizing to find us, and it is only a matter of time before they do.”

“And where are we going now?” Benno asked, following.

“To recruit another member to the team. Someone I hope can be of use. A bricoleur, she called him. At least that’s how she referred to him in her personnel log. As I said, her journals—as her thinking—are off limits to us, but I was able to squeeze some information out of Gemma.”

Benno shut the trapped door behind him, which vanished seamlessly into the wall, and continued after Onus, who was already out in the hall. “And where do we find this person?”

“He is being held, like I was.”

“Another political prisoner?”

Onus tilted his head this way and the other as he strode down hallway after empty hallway. “Perhaps.”

They passed through another set of curtained glass doors and into a courtyard. The penis cast a long shadow on the dirt and the side of the mansion despite the uniform gunmetal sky concealing any sign of the sun.

Benno navigated the hedges behind Onus. “So we’re off to another prison?”

“It’s not so much a prison as a zoo,” Onus said as the Shenandoah appeared ahead beyond a gazebo carpeted in brittle vines. “Beverly likes to amuse her children with her captives. It isn’t enough simply to collect emolument. Everything is for the Family.” He stopped outside the Shenandoah and fiddled with his Gemstoke. “But you know all about her.”

“I don’t know anyone named Beverly,” Benno said, slightly winded from the quick jaunt back to the vessel.

“Ah, that’s right.” Onus raised Gemma to his lips. “Gemma, open the Shenandoah.” The doorway dissolved from the hull. “She insists on being referred to by that ridiculous moniker. I will never understand the eccentricities developed by those with chronically sublunar clout.” He stopped in the Shenandoah’s doorway and turned back to survey the mansion, his smile faltering as his eyes crawled over the looming head of the penis rearing over the roof. “So yes, you know her by a different name.” He looked at Benno. “But to me she will always be Beverly. Elderly Beverly Everson.”

Onus disappeared into the vessel.

Benno stood on the dirt, staring at the doorway. He was still holding his cup of espresso. He sipped it. It was cold. He saw Edda’s face, her wild blue hair flaring like a wraith.

Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!

The shadow of the penis darkened the patch of dirt.

Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!

He sipped his cold espresso some more.