CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nobody
XI
Wilburn’s eyes were open in the darkness. Before him lay the Path: a straight and narrow line of golden light. It seemed to him to be the same light of which the Category-Q had been made, the very stuff of the honey-rain. As he studied it, the golden Path transformed into a golden person flying toward him from the darkness on aquamarine butterfly wings. It was Lieutenant Angel Alfajean, flanked by Iddo and the prophet Buttrom. For some reason, the the angel’s golden light did not illuminate the temple, though it did illuminate the other two. Buttrom, still clutching his bowl, wore the expression of a man who has been kicked repeatedly in the you-know-whats.
Nay, Wilburn, Iddo thought, merely the expression of a man failing to harness the absurdity. A cautionary example for us all.
“Well done, Wilburn,” Alfajean chorused. “On behalf of the PROVED, I’d like to thank you for your cooperation. You have performed a valuable service for the Department. If ever you should find yourself in Higher Astral Sector 7-F Bureauspace, sub-realm Languor, do not hesitate to visit me at my office in the Rictus Complex. Tell the desk troll you’re a friend.”
“Thanks,” Wilburn said. “I didn’t really do anything, though…”
Alfajean smiled several golden smiles. “You did just super. Now it’s time to take you home. Buttrom and I have a few more stops to make before our work is finished, so—”
Buttrom wimpered pitifully.
“—so we’ll drop you off at the Dream Road on our way,” Alfajean continued, ignoring the prophet. “Master Bungflower, it has been… um, an experience working with you, to be sure.”
“The experience was all mine,” Iddo said, fervently. “It’s not every day one gets to witness the creation of a god, is it? The implications… No, I mustn’t speak. My genius seethes with inspiration. I must write—boldly, and at ruthless length.”
“That’s an excellent idea, Master Bungflower. Buttrom, you should consider taking a few notes yourself while the details are still fresh. Just a suggestion. You’ll want to include plenty of accurate information in your prophecy to ensure that it can’t be misinterpreted.”
“I…” Buttrom whispered. He licked his lips. “I just make pots.”
“We’ve been over this,” Alfajean said, patiently. “You’re a potter and a prophet now. Do you need a pen?”
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“I can’t write…” Buttrom’s eyes bugged.
“What was that, Buttrom?”
“I can’t write,” the man repeated. “I’m illiterate.”
“Whoops!” Iddo said, with unconcealed glee. “Missed that little factoid in the pre-op research did we? Well, that’s bureaucratic efficiency for you.”
“I’m sure something can be arranged,” Alfajean snapped. “Someone else can write down Buttrom’s prophecy; all he needs to do is speak it. How’s your memory, Buttrom? Razor keen?”
“I just make…”
“Oh, never mind,” Alfajean said, testily. “Have the others departed, Master Bungflower?”
“Still here,” Iddo said.
“Close?”
“Not particularly. I believe they’re over yonder at the edge of the pavilion.” Iddo gestured with his horns, although there was nothing to be seen but darkness.
“You believe,” Alfajean said.
“Yes, to clarify: the demon is there and I believe the young lady is there too… Color me impressed, Lieutenant Angel; she is making herself almost undetectable in Thoughtspace and Moodspace. Yes, color me a ripe shade of impressed. She’ll be an automatic purple-hat in psychovatry, assuming I can recruit her to Frogswallow’s.”
“From what I know of her allegiances, Master Bungflower, you would do better to assume the opposite.” Alfajean appeared to regret these words as soon as they were out.
“Go on,” Iddo said. “A Guild prodigy, is she?”
“How do you—” Too late, Alfajean realized that Iddo had been guessing. Now his guess had been confirmed. The angel sighed. “I take it you can find your own way home, Master Bungflower?”
“Indubitably.”
“Good. Then stay behind and cover us until you’re sure we can’t be followed. When our telefraction ripples have fully dissipated, you may consider your role in the operation complete. Thank you, on behalf of the PROVED, for your assistance.”
You’re not coming? Wilburn’s spirits took a sudden nosedive.
Cheer up, my boy. It is the Path for me to write tonight, but soon we shall see much and more of one another. Here and now everywhere always, remember?
Right… Wilburn thought. It was well and good to say that, but the truth was he was going to miss Iddo. They had only been friends for, like… well, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed exactly… which sort of went to proving Iddo’s point, he guessed. It felt like they’d been friends forever… But it also felt like they would never meet again.
We’re hanging out right now in myriad moments all across the universe, Iddo thought, gently. This isn’t even see you later, my boy, not in the ultimate sense.
Wilburn nodded and punched the hoof Iddo extended to him. Just then, an extra mighty rumble shook the darkness, followed by a scatter-shot of pops and snaps.
“Time to go,” Alfajean said, whipping out their wizidex and giving it a few taps. “Buttrom, Wilburn, you two know the drill. We all need to be touching when we tele—”
The volcano erupted.