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folded space anymore, like the Chinese guy’s shop. But I’ll be erasure-proof, so it’ll be
worth it. And then I’ll deal with Susan.”
“Wait,” B said. “Didn’t you say that if Susan succeeded in casting her spell, it would
doom your city to destruction? But it sounds like it would only doom you.”
Marla tucked her daggers away. She was sweating now, and her head felt clearer. “It
would bring doom down on Felport. Because I’m the only one qualified to look after my
city. All the other sorcerers, those bitches and sons of same, are incompetent or powerhungry
or paranoid to one degree or another, and if any one of them—Susan included—
took over, the whole damn place would fall apart. No one else can strike the perfect
balance of fear, loyalty, obligations, and threats that I do to keep business and magic
running smoothly. Most other chief sorcerers can’t even leave their cities without
risking a coup, but look at me—I can go away for a few days, and the only thing I have
to worry about is being edited out of existence. Most of the other sorcerers hate me, but
they know I’m the one who keeps things running smoothly, and they accept it. Except
for Susan. She was always too ambitious for her own good.”
“Ah,” B said. “So it’s more of an indirect sort of certain doom that faces your city in
your absence.”
Marla shrugged. “Destruction is destruction. Believe me, I know.” She sat on the bed,
stretching, working the last of the knots out of her shoulders and neck.
After a few moments of silence, B said, “You’re not going to rescue Rondeau, are you?”
“I can’t. If I do, Mutex gets away, and I don’t get the Cornerstone, and I disappear.
Which will be lucky for me, what with a raging frog-monster and resurrected warriors
destroying everything in my absence.”
“Rondeau is your friend.”
“Best one I’ve ever had,” she said. “My brother in arms.” I’m the hardest one of all.
“I’m going to save him, then,” B said.
Marla considered possible responses to that. “Oh, good,” she said at last. “That way two
of my friends will die.”
“I’m your friend?”
“Yeah. For what it’s worth. Which, as you know now, isn’t much, at least not under
these circumstances.”
“It’s a lot better than being your enemy,” B said. “I have to go save him.”
“I’ll bring flowers to your funeral.” B didn’t answer. “Why do you have to save him? I
admire your—I don’t know, your pluck—but why do you have to?”