He was tall, dark, whipcord thin, an anthropomorphized stick of a man. He leaned just outside the door frame, smiling, and Nathan knew instinctively that this man wasn't a man at all.

For starters, he wasn't dressed like a vendor at a renaissance fair. The stranger was wearing a dark green polo shirt, slacks, and a pea coat. Green-tinted sunglasses perched on his shaved head. The loafers were also a big hint.

The shock of the man's clothes barely registered, however. Nathan could tell just by looking at him that despite his winning smile this man could cheerfully kill without a second thought. Jack had told him stories about fellow mercenaries who'd lost all basic humanity, killing simply for the joy of it. There was a look in their eyes, a hollow left in place of a soul. A dark, mottled green the color of wet mold, this man's eyes didn't tell of a missing conscience: it was something simpler and much more terrifying. Here was a killer who worked on so grand a scale he no longer bothered to care.

He couldn't have been more than twenty-five years old.

The stranger smiled cheerfully at Nathan as though they were old friends who’d bumped into each other on the street. "By all means, do stare." He gestured demonstratively at himself and stepped forward, his voice deep and profoundly British. "I imagine I am the prettiest thing you've seen since Maggie.”

"You're here to kill me?" Nathan asked nervously. The man burst into a long, loud belly laugh.

"Dear me, no. I wouldn't hear the end of it." He wiped a tear from his eyes, sniggering. "Forgive me, but−" There was a shriek of grating copper as the sentinel soared past, lunging at the newcomer. The stranger gestured at it without losing stride, as though he was flicking dust from his sleeve.

There was a sound like a tired sigh as wood rotted away to dust, as copper vanished in plumes of verdigris. The remains fell into the depths of the library. There was a cacophony of grating howls as every serpent Nathan could see shook into life, launching into the air.

"I could wither all you like prunes with a thought. Piss off, I mean him no harm."

One and all, the winged sculptures paused, then soared back into the shadows.

He turned back to Nathan, rolling his eyes. "No manners at all. Speaking of which," he gave a theatrical bow. "I am Maggie's uncle, James, and I have been asked to escort you to her."

Jabberwisp brandished his outrage like a gun as he menaced the strange man. "Who-in-the-name-of-all-beneath-the-sky-do-you-think-you-"

"J, it's fine." Nathan interrupted, then turned to the stranger. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

The man reached into his coat and pulled Nathan's guitar from an inner pocket far too small to have contained it. He handed the instrument to Nathan with a smile and then produced a small roll of paper. "And a note. I will admit to writing it myself but she did dictate."

Nathan slipped the guitar over his shoulder, smiling. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. He took the note, keeping an eye on the stranger as he read.

Nathan,

I hope to God you get this. I don't trust this Belias so I'm sending my uncle James to find you and get you here as soon as possible. I'd have come myself but he offered, so I'm taking the time to work out the particulars of getting you home. He's part of the family. He's annoying and British, but he will keep you safe.

See you soon,

Maggie

P.S. We are going to have to talk about this magic business. Just don't expect a trip to Diagon Alley when you get here.

P.P.S. You were right about the bracelet: it helps.

Nathan rolled up the parchment and pocketed it, then peered at James for a few moments. British and annoying. Hmmm. "Which aspect are you?"

James' grin widened. "She did say you were irritatingly perceptive. Why don't you have a guess, young man?"

Nathan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The way you offed the sentinel was kind a giveaway. I'd say 'Decay' but that lacks style." Nathan grinned back. "Have to go with the classics. You're Pestilence, aren't you?"

The other man shrugged and crossed his arms. "What makes you so sure I'm not simply an apprentice like Maggie?"

"You've killed too many people. I haven't seen the look myself but I've been told about it. And you're too old."

"Old?" James spread his fingers across his chest in a pantomime of offense. "I'm only twenty-six, and I rather think you're only a few years younger than me."

Nathan smirked, all alarm forgotten amidst the guessing game. "And how long have you been twenty-six?"

"Several decades, I think." the aspect of death conceded with a nod that reminded Nathan of a fencer's touche. "Frankly, I stopped paying attention after the Second World War."

Though James swore profusely that he meant no harm Jabberwisp insisted on staying between the two men as they left the tower, a gesture that Nathan found both touching and pointless. If the 'dandy,' as Nathan began to think of him, actually meant him harm, then there was literally nothing to do about it. Besides, James was preoccupied with telling them his life story: he insisted, and Nathan was too wary of catching the plague to disagree.

"I was born... oh, a long time ago, I don't remember the year, but I do remember the village. What was left of it, anyway. Imagine this for an earliest memory, young man: staggering about, hardly knowing how to walk at all, the homes of my family and kin burning, those lucky few still alive running from the small child crying red tears for his mother."

Nathan swallowed. "Sounds awful."

"Oh, it was!" James agreed with ghoulish pleasure. "We called it the Last Blood, or something like that. I’ve forgotten the language. It devoured our village like a hungry beast, everybody shriveling up as the blood leaked from their bodies."

Nathan paused as they passed thought a patch of darkness. "And you were uninfected?"

"I was the first infected. It spread from me to my family, then the rest. Precious few escaped the reach of the plague, and fewer still survived it."

The cobbling hung back and tugged on Nathan's leg, whispering. "Young-master-you-would-do-well−"

"No need to whisper, my dear little toy. I can hear you." Nathan could hear James' grin, half expecting to see his teeth shining out of the darkness in a Cheshire smile. "Please do not interrupt."

"Where was I..."

"You caught Ebola." Nathan supplied.

"Is that what they call it these days? In any case, I was one of the few who survived. My predecessor was surprised to find that such a young child had endured and took me in. It taught me what it knew and then retired in the... 1930's, I think it was."

They stepped out of the tower and Cain, waiting beneath a nearby tree, did a slow, grinding double-take. Then the golem shrugged and fell into step with Jabberwisp, between Nathan and the aspect.

"Pestilence retired in the 1930's? Was he muttering about penicillin?"

"Good Omens?" James asked. "Very nice reference. It was not a he. It was an it."

"Seems rude to call your teacher an it."

"It was a sentient, impeccably-mannered cloud of assorted vermin that had been about its business since before the bubonic plague," James said as he glanced about. "What else would you call it? And where is your cart?"

"Through the woods, about a mile that way." Nathan watched as the aspect's nose wrinkled and had to smile. "Don't walk much, do you?"

"Why would I?" James sniffed. "This is going to be hell on my shoes."

Nathan shrugged and pushed ahead of everyone, smirking. It had never occurred to him that a horseman of the apocalypse could be a fop.

Belias rose as Nathan approached, glaring daggers at Jabberwisp. "Back so soon? Why-"

The homunculus took one long look at James, blinked, and sat back down. "Ah."

Nathan laughed. "Yep." He turned with a smile and glanced at James' shoes, dirtied and torn by the mile of woodland hike. "Your poor shoes. Whatever shall you do?"

James narrowed his eyes. "Laughing in the face of death. How very original. You do realize what I could do to you, hmm?"

Nathan's smile widened. "Eh. After the last couple days, well... given the lip I've given some of the things I've seen, it would be rude not to."

The aspect pondered that for a moment and shrugged. "Fair enough. Gentlemen, I will be taking over from here."

"How exactly do you mean?" Belias' voice was so cold that Nathan half-expected frost to coat the homunculus' lips.

"How I mean," James said "is that about ten miles out from here the farmlands start. Three miles past that lie the outskirts of Wyvern's Run." If he noticed the glare Belias was throwing his way, he didn't show it. "How exactly did you, my good relic, plan on escorting Nathan there? Wrapping yourselves up in cloaks and hoping that nobody looks twice? No? Hmph. Three wizard-spawn at least, escorting an actual wizard." James smiled, something unpleasant glittering in his eyes as he stared the homunculus down. "It would be quite the show."

Nathan raised a timid hand, nervous about stepping in the line of fire. "Actually James, I'm not a wizar−"

"Not now dear, I'm in the middle of a confrontation."

Nathan backed away.

Belias shook his head. "What of Nathan's abilities? He turned a band of thieves to ash in moments. What if he loses control in the middle of the town? How will you protect him, aspect? How will you protect the people?"

James then did something very odd. He went still and began mumbling to himself, tracing his hands through the air in little juddering circles. For a moment James slid out of focus, as though he was fading from reality. The air darkened and seethed, as if a thousand invisible things were writhing around him and staining the daylight with their passing.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

A moment later James straightened, his usual empty smile in place as though nothing had happened and doing less than nothing to comfort Nathan. "A sudden bloom of heat, yes? He was present in the shack at the time." James turned his smile on Nathan, who froze in the midst of backing up. "And yet he survived! One surmises he can survive a loss of control on his own, correct?"

"Near as we can figure," Nathan said cautiously. "How did you know?"

"I asked. If he can survive an incident, why worry?"

Nathan scowled at the aspect and opened his mouth to respond but James waved a hand. "I joke, of course. He just lacks refinement, yes? You have been teaching him?"

Belias nodded slowly.

"Then it's his problem, not yours. I'll keep him away from anything liable to explode. Nathan, do you think you can refrain from blowing things up?"

"Well, yeah, but−"

"Then it's settled!" Nathan watched in a puzzled haze as James somehow switched places with Belias and shooed the homunculus off the cart, dismissive and yet irresistibly polite. Belias himself didn't seem to know what was going on. One moment the homunculus was holding the reins, the next he was standing next to Cain wearing a bemused glower. Fighting the urge to laugh, Nathan crossed his arms. "James, hold on."

"Hold on, dear boy?" The aspect cocked his head. "Whatever do you mean? Get in the cart; there's a woman waiting for you."

"Not until I've said goodbye."

James blinked. "Goodbye. Yes, quite right. I'll give you a moment." He disappeared without a sound, the reins dropping from where his hands had been. Jabberwisp let out a rolling stream of curses as he leapt from Nathan's shoulder to grab them before the mule seized its chance, then began stomping on the wheel-brake.

"Irresponsible-unacceptable-I-do-not-care-if-he-is-Death-his-behavior-is−"

"J, it's all right." Nathan climbed up to the driver's seat with a smile. "I need to get there somehow."

"Yes-but... Young master, how can you consent to this? How can you trust him?"

Nathan shrugged. "Maggie sent him, and honestly I don't trust her much either. If I trust anyone, it's you guys. But James is right: you can't go any farther. Without him, I'd have to go alone."

"Yes-but−"

"But nothing, little guy. Right, Belias?"

The homunculus clenched his fist, cutting sparks from his palm as he spoke. "You... are right, Nathan. Be that as it may, surely you see the wisdom of retaining our services."

Nathan shook his head. "Belias, I..."

“I'm leaving,” he tried to say, but the words couldn't make it past his lips. Nathan thought it was because he didn't want to disappoint them, dismissed the idea. Belias would take it personally but pretend he didn't care, he thought ruefully, Cain would simply accept it, and J... well, I dunno what J would do.

God, I haven't thought about going home since... Nathan tried and failed to remember the last time he had even given his old world a passing thought. As far as he could tell, the last time he'd actually brought it up himself was when he'd asked Maggie for ruby slippers in the forest.

Nathan pushed the troubling thoughts aside and turned to Belias. I'll sort that out later. "I may be dead by tomorrow for all I know. Why go through the work?" He laughed. "I'd rather you didn't trouble yourself."

The homunculus was inhumanly still. "It would be a cruel thing, for one such as you to stay with us so briefly only to leave again. Allow that we might give you some small token, at least, that we may know whether you have need."

"Look Belias, I..." Nathan paused and glanced at his companions, then smiled. "Well, if you insist."

His lips twitching in the abortive remnant of a smile, Belias plucked something from the depths of the cart and handed it to Nathan. A moment's inspection revealed a lump of moist clay. "Speak what message you would into this and then hurl it into the air. It will find us. No matter where you are, we will come. We will serve."

"Right." Nathan pocketed the little ball. "Guess... guess we should say goodbye." He walked to Cain and gave him a big hug that the golem returned cautiously. He then turned to Jabberwisp, but the little cobbling had disappeared. "J?"

Belias waved dismissively. "Likely off sulking. I will convey him your regards when he returns."

"Thanks." Nathan offered his hand to shake, but the homunculus only eyed his hand and then raised an eyebrow and his own blade-fingered palm. Nathan laughed. "Fair enough."

Belias nodded, his shriveled smile warm for the first time. "Journey well, artificer, and leave the world better than you found it."

Nathan watched as they turned away and dwindled down the road, sorry to see them go.

"Content with your farewells?" Nathan scowled and turned to James, back in the driver's seat as though he'd never left.

"Is anyone ever?" Nathan quipped as he unlatched the brakes. "You would know."

"I would, wouldn't I?" The aspect flicked the reins and Rupert started forward with a snort. James began prattling but Nathan didn't hear him, lost in his own thoughts.

"What's it like, being Death?"

As James predicted the forest had slowly begun to give way to rolling hills covered in wheat. He could still see the woods whenever they topped a hill far, far off to the west, little more than a green shadow waiting to catch the sun. Farmers littered the fields, cutting the grain and tying it into manageable bundles as they sang snatches of unintelligible bawdiness. When the wind came up Nathan fancied he could hear the sound of waves and seagulls.

When he'd asked about the sound the aspect had brushed aside the question to barrel on about things that utterly failed to register in Nathan's mind. It was like trying to talk to a river: no matter what James said it sounded the same as everything that had gone before, flowing on and on without the slightest sign of stopping. After a few minutes of attempted small talk Nathan despaired of anything like a two-way conversation and busied himself with the scenery, doing his best to ignore the dull ache slowly building in his ears. His question about death had been little more than thinking aloud.

James turned from the road and stared at Nathan. "What about what we were just discussing?"

Nathan blinked, surprised he'd got a reaction. "Honestly, I don't know what you were talking about. Tuned you out after the first hour on the merits of custom-made Italian shoes." He raised a hand for quiet before James could complain. "Now answer the question or please shut up: my ears hurt."

The aspect peered owlishly at Nathan. "Perhaps you could be more specific," he grated.

"Well, I was wondering exactly how you do it. Work, I mean. People die of disease all over the world −worlds, I guess− every minute. How can you be here and there at once?"

"How do you keep breathing?" James replied. "You can hold your breath, stop for a time if you like, but even when you aren't conscious of it your body still does the work, because that's its nature."

Nathan frowned. "Maggie said something similar, but I thought she was dumbing it down form. It's that simple? Just like that?"

"It's the analogy I used when I explained it to her, young man, and hardly an exact one. You do know what an analogy is, yes?" The aspect pushed his sunglasses up, chuckling as Nathan scowled. "I could not fully explain if you had ten lifetimes to hear it, let alone the breadth of consciousness necessary to understand." He leaned forward, eyes twinkling as he whispered. "At times, I hardly understand it myself."

"My body, and by that I mean…" James gestured at himself. "This… is simply a... a manifestation of my consciousness. My work continues whether I think on it or not. At times I attend to it: that is my purpose, after all. Most times, I..."

"Buy Italian shoes?" Nathan guessed, rolling the ball of iron between his fingers and wincing as he fumbled it through the space his pinky used to be. Damn. That'll take getting used to.

"You make it sound so pointless." James sniffed.

Nathan pocketed the ball. "Well, isn't it? Why bother buying anything? From what you said I'm guessing you can appear as whatever you like, probably conjure up your own shoes without the bother of buying them."

"It's the principle of the thing."

"I don't get it," Nathan shrugged. "Maybe it's because you're excessively British."

"I'm not excessively Briti−"

"Say that again with that accent," Nathan teased, "go ahead."

The aspect scowled. “My predecessor was excessively British. I am only exceedingly so. You're very lucky Maggie asked me to get you and not one of the others."

"No doubt," Nathan said. "What are they like?"

"The other aspects? Goodness, there are so many. I've only met a handful and only a few times. I don't know what most of them even do."

Nathan frowned. "But you... what was it, consulted? It looked like you consulted someone about the people I killed."

James pursed his lips. "Not quite the same thing. Don't you know what an aspect is, Nathan?"

"The incarnation of a particular facet of death?"

The aspect began to shake his head, then blinked. "Ah! Yes, exactly. A facet. One side of a whole. We are all part of one being, and−"

"Hold on," Nathan interrupted. "One being?"

The aspect chuckled. "I should think a Christian familiar with the idea. Call it one of the perks of life as someone whose work necessitates the transcendence of time and space." James shrugged. "To sum up, I haven't actually met most of them; I know most of my fellows only by reputation."

"Uh-huh... and, ah... How does Maggie tie into all this?"

James leaned back with a smile that was uncomfortably knowing. "You mean as an apprentice?"

Nathan glanced away. "I suppose."

"Well, I can't tell you what's on her mind, if that's what you're after. She is not yet one of us. Alas, you're on your own." James grinned. "Shame: I do love gossip, especially about young love."

"I don't..." Nathan's argument faltered under James' vulpine smile. "Well, maybe. But... look, you were an apprentice. What was that like?"

The aspect paused. "Honestly, it's most of what I remember. I would recommend putting that question to someone with a little more experience of ordinary life."

"Maggie was only seven when she−"

"Yes, yes, and I was only two." James sighed. "Very well. It was... lonely. Until I was ten I had no lasting contact with anyone but my predecessor, and almost a decade spent with nothing but a seething pile of insects for company is hardly normal."

"Where did you live?"

"Nowhere. Everywhere. Wherever it went I tagged along, learning how to fill its shoes. Many people... Many, many people were frightened by the little orphan wandering cool as you please in the midst of a raging pandemic. Others tried to feed me, clothe me, find my parents. Such people always caught whatever the pile was spreading."

"That's awful," Nathan shuddered. "What happened when you were ten?"

"It sent me to a private school."

"What?!"

That was much more awful, in my opinion," James said cheerfully. "It was the first time I spent more than a week in one place, very exciting, though personally I would have waited. Children of that age can quite the barbarous, petty lot. Granted, my time there was marked by a great many bullies coming down with the most shocking ailments, so I had it better than most."

"Nothing serious," James laughed when he saw the look on Nathan's face. "Usually."

"Then college, and... coming into your inheritance?" Nathan guessed.

"Essentially. I work, I look in on Maggie now and then, I play poker with her father for lost souls, that sort of thing. Enough about me. What do you think of me?"

Nathan chuckled. "I think you're still lonely. I think that's why you like clothes so much: they give you an excuse to mingle with people and forget your work, which I'm guessing you really don't like."

"Hmph. Maggie wasn't wrong: you are irritating. Were you studying to be a psychologist at that college of yours?"

Nathan shook his head. "General studies. I had no idea what I wanted to be. Still don't."

"Mmm. Healthy attitude, I suppose. Oh, you may want to see this." James pointed up the road.

Nathan turned. Night had started to fall as they talked and the first stars were peeking over the horizon. To their right the hills were dropping away to reveal a thin stretch of pale beach. Seagulls milled over the sand and picked it over for scraps, keeping their distance from an odd, blackish lump. Beyond, a dark sea glittered under the last of the sunlight. The road wound along the beach for a way until finally it entered the City of Cutters.

Wyvern's Run looked inviting, though that might have been only the evening light washing it in the colors of a campfire. The city swept out like a possessive arm of planks and shingles, clutching at a forest of masts sheltered in the harbor. The ships were of innumerable sizes and shapes, all sheltered from the waves by a long, narrow strip of gray stone blocks.

Nathan's inspection was interrupted by another a strange cry. He turned and stared at the dark lump as it started to spread wings.

What uncoiled itself was not a dragon by any description. Its ugly head was dominated by a long, beakish snout filled to bursting with broken needle-teeth. Tattered frills that were either ears or a pitiful attempt at plumage crested a head suspended over its graceless body by a gangly reed of neck. The vast, leathery wings looked several times too large for their owner.

It was built vaguely like a bat the size of a middling dog, a messy black streaked with gray. With a few flicks of its wings the creature rolled into the air, a group of seagulls nearby shrieking as it came closer. It was faster than the birds, but clumsier, and snapped angrily at the gulls a few times as it let out another shriek.

The thing made an odd gulping motion and spat a plume of greasy fire from its mouth. One of the seagulls crumpled out of the air and the creature dove after the ashen body, catching its meal before it hit the water.

"An old wyvern, that. Abandoned by his carcass."

Nathan turned. "Carcass?"

"Flock, if you like." James said. "Wyverns move in groups up and down the coast, eating whatever meat they can catch or bring down. Nasty things. See those towers?"

Nathan looked and noticed tall, spindly fingers of wood jutting up from the city at regular intervals. Each was topped by a small room with large windows, space enough for a man and a small fire.

"Archers are posted in the top. A carcass of wyverns will gleefully strip men to the bone in a few moments, but they're cowards: shoot one and the rest will leave."

Nathan glanced at the aspect. "What's to keep them from eating us?"

"My good looks," James said with a grin.

"We're doomed."

James laughed. "I wouldn't worry, Nathan. Carcasses are out of season and catching us would be... well, catching." He patted Nathan's back. "Cheer up: you'll soon be in the city with your own cutter."

Though he thought he knew what it meant, Nathan felt required to ask. "What's a cutter?"

"Several things," James said. "A kind of little boat, I think. A sort of hunting knife, too." His smile widened slowly. "And my personal favorite: local slang for a hired killer. You'll find plenty of all three in Wyvern's Run, I shouldn't wonder."

As James spoke the sun vanished beneath the horizon and the city ahead lost all warmth.

Lit from within, the city looked like the jaw of its namesake; lean and hungry, fire dancing behind its teeth. Nathan shivered and huddled in on himself.

He didn't bother to ask which kind of cutter James meant.