Episode 108

(New York, September 19, 2019)

Alana’s most difficult encounter with Karkov — or whatever he went by back then — was their first after all that unpleasantness in the old country. The unpleasantness was long past, along with their country, but she couldn’t be sure that he didn’t intend to revive it.

She counted in her head. That must have been seventeen centuries ago. Alana had reason to hate him back then, and not just because of what he had done to her protege. She now harbored a strong suspicion that he would provide ample new cause to hate him — not that there existed any shortage of good reasons already. She briefly wondered whether Rin viewed Finn the same way. Alana’s own distaste for Karkov went back much farther. If Rin had heeded it, maybe things would have turned out differently. For one thing, she probably wouldn’t have decided to kill all her friends. Was that what they were — friends?

Alana had been the high priestess long before Karkov was plucked from obscurity by an infatuated Rin. She had a low opinion of him from the beginning, and doubted his sincerity. Rin was oblivious to reason, lost in love’s fog. Once it had become clear that hectoring her would just drive Rin away, Alana held her tongue.

She now wondered whether her view of Karkov had been tainted by jealousy. He had stolen her favorite. She liked to think she was protecting her inexperienced acolyte from being cynically exploited. However, Karkov had done nothing to merit such suspicion — or at least nothing specific that Alana could recall. Her misgivings were of a more universal nature. What else would one do with an inexperienced acolyte?

Alana had to admit that she herself was not beyond reproach in this regard. Fortunately, there was nobody left to reproach her — or at least nobody who earnestly could. Well, nobody but one — and she had abdicated any right to do so by adopting her present course.

Karkov’s subsequent actions certainly bore the hallmarks of cynical exploitation, but her picture of him now had more nuance — and not just because she needed him at the moment. Despite the things he had done — or maybe because of them — Alana had slowly come to believe that he had indeed possessed some form of genuine love for the woman. Perhaps he even still did.

In truth, she had known him very little in the old days. They both had occupied high stations, but their political careers barely overlapped. Alana had been forced into retirement shortly before Karkov captured Rin’s heart. She had found no evidence that the two events were connected, though not for want of trying.

Despite being driven from the public sphere, she was not displeased with the way things had turned out — at least at that point. Against all reason, Alana had obtained the one thing she truly sought, something far greater than royalty. She was content to watch subsequent political developments from afar. Though, not far enough it would seem. After Rin’s fall, Karkov had claimed the unique power to destroy immortals, and his queen’s demise seemed to corroborate this.

Only later did Alana learn that Rin had survived, and by then it was a moot point. Karkov had accomplished his purpose and driven off the remaining immortals, leaving him the undisputed master of the land — which he promptly lost through the proverbial vicissitudes of fortune and, perhaps, his own ineptitude. Frankly, it remained a mystery to Alana how he had managed to do so. For all his faults, Karkov never struck her as weak or foolish. Perhaps arrogance accomplished what incompetence could not …

Alana had not been as easily deceived by his ruse as everyone else, but she didn’t need to be. She had already decided to leave, and his threats merely fortified her resolve. She didn’t care whether his claim was true, though privately she remained quite skeptical. She was an Eight and doubted the man could do anything to her.

Rin had made herself a Four, for reasons Alana still could not fathom. The surprise wasn’t that Karkov could destroy her, but that he would. The woman was no threat to him and had voluntarily ceded day-to-day control of the country. It was clear to even the dullest observer that she was head over heels in love with the man and would do anything for him.

Despite her disinterest, Alana did design a simple test of Karkov’s claim. However, she never even proposed it, much less attempted the thing herself. There was no need, since her choice would be unaffected. She simply had no reason to remain. The reason for her to be anywhere had vanished, and it was her own damned fault.

If there was one thing Alana had taught Rin, it was that love inevitably led to betrayal. Karkov hadn’t betrayed her, Alana had. She should have taken a firm hand and forced the matter, heedless of whether Rin would hate her for it. This would have been a simple matter back then. The man was still mortal at that point, and almost universally despised. Nobody would have batted an eye if he died, even under questionable circumstances. There were standard ways to attend to such affairs, and Alana had quite the arsenal at her disposal.

That was what love called for. When had she been so pliant and weak as to abandon the obvious expedient? Her youth’s thoughts were strangers to her, and she now struggled to reason it out. Had she abandoned Rin to her folly as some sort of revenge? That sounded like something quite different from true love. Then again, true love would never have let her do to Rin many of the things she had — long before Karkov appeared on the scene.

Alana had evacuated before the others, ostensibly from fear of Karkov and unconcerned whether posterity would judge her cowardly or naive. It was advantageous to be underestimated, and in subsequent centuries she had never revealed the truth to anyone. Nor had she troubled to spare her compatriots their exile at the time. It would have been a simple enough matter to propose her test, but she felt no desire to. She was under no obligation to cure their stupidity. She was sure she would not miss them, and she never had.

Nonetheless, Alana discovered she had been naive about two things. First, she had underestimated immortality. However large the world, the fullness of time would bring immortals together countless times. She would never be free of those imbeciles, unless Rin freed her of them. The only problem was that Rin did not plan to stop with them.

Her second mistake was to imagine she wouldn’t care what posterity thought. She had neglected to recognize that, as an immortal, she would be part of ‘posterity’. Whatever pretenses she evoked, she could not fool herself. If she had departed only after proving Karkov impotent, her reasons for leaving would have been beyond dispute. As it was, she could never be sure of herself. Even if she truly had left of her own accord, it still felt like she left of his. Once again, she had underestimated immortality. Not only did this sting her pride, but it would do so forever.

A stain on the life of an immortal could never be expunged, least of all if it involved another immortal. It would echo through the universe forever. Perhaps the same was true of every deed, but most had the virtue of being forgotten. She would never be able to forget. The mere act of trying to do so would reinforce her memory. Even if she somehow did forget, she would not know it. Knowing required remembering. The absence of pain was not the same as the absence of its memory. She wondered how many disgraces she had suffered and forgotten, or if such a thing was even possible. Worst of all, she could not staunch the wound by avenging herself on Karkov. Heck, even Rin probably couldn’t do that.

The man turned with an impatient look, which changed to something quite different when he saw Alana. She knew that look. Men. He was about to say something, when a voice laughed in Alana’s ear. She spun in irritation, and found herself face to face with a man she had not noticed before, a man who could only be Karkov. He must have been hiding in the crowd, watching. He looked like an even bigger yuppie douchebag than the fellow at the bar.

Karkov smiled. “Aren’t you going to pretend you knew?”

“Knew what?” Alana could barely conceal her ill-humor. She tried to clear her mind. Her train of thought had been interrupted at a particularly inopportune moment. She couldn’t afford to hate him right now. Why couldn’t she have been busy listing Karkov’s virtues? No, she knew well enough why.

“That it was me?” the man laughed. “I watched your whole thought process. You were about to make some sort of scene, I could tell. Then you saw him and were convinced it was me. I noticed him too, the only other well-dressed guy in the room. But aren’t you going to pretend you really knew all along?”

Alana gave him a sharp look. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I thought that’s what priests do. You were the head charlatan. So shouldn’t you have some quick-witted evasion when proven wrong?”

Alana scowled. “That’s rich coming from the worst traitor in history.”

Karkov’s eyes gleamed in obvious amusement. “Oh, I daren’t claim such a prestigious title. Especially, in your presence.”

Alana regarded him coldly. Was he insinuating something? What exactly did the man think he knew? She concluded that he must be referring to their present meeting. After a moment, her eyes squinted. “You hired him, didn’t you?”

“Who?” Karkov seemed genuinely puzzled.

“Don’t play dumb. You wanted to make me feel ridiculous.”

“I would never do something so crass. Besides, you don’t need help. If I were you, I’d feel ridiculous all the time.”

“And for good reason.”

This elicited a laugh. “He does look like me. If your eyesight is really poor, that is. I can see why you’re suspicious, though. Two well-dressed guys in a place like this? But it’s just a coincidence. I wouldn’t waste time doing something like that.”

Alana looked at him, still unsure. “Like hell you wouldn’t. I need a drink.”

“Why? Alcohol doesn’t do anything for you, does it?”

Alana shook her head.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’d have a way to defeat you.”

“With bad booze?” At least he still thought that way. Linear thinkers were the easiest opponents. Or was he just joking? Modern sarcasm was something she hadn’t really mastered, even if Finn accused her of employing it liberally.

“Can we find a quieter place?” Karkov asked with a pleading look.

“Whatever,” Alana snorted. Never trust a man who didn’t like a pub. Or was it the other way around?

Karkov waved at the man at the bar, who had been watching the exchange with interest. His attention returned to Alana. “He’s a good employee, but he dresses like a douchebag.”

Alana rolled her eyes and muttered, “I fucking knew it.” She gestured at Karkov. “Speaking of dressing like a douchebag…”

“What?” He glanced down at his shirt. “It’s Beau Brummel.”

She shook her head slowly.

“By the by,” Karkov asked lightly as he led the way toward the door, “how did you know my name?”