Episode 112

(New York, September 19, 2019)

Alana tensed.

“We’re not collaborating,” Karkov assured her. “This isn’t some trap Rin set. However, she did make contact not long ago.”

If this was a trap, it was more insidious than a simple collaboration with Karkov. Why hadn’t Rin mentioned meeting him? Were she and Karkov secretly buddies? Pen-pals? Lovers? Had they reconciled? If they had, her mission of destroying immortals could very well be his doing. Alana wondered if she had made the mistake of seeking succor from her enemy’s puppeteer. It wouldn’t be the first time she had seen such a folly, but it would be the first time she was guilty of it.

She cringed at the thought but also felt a certain sense of relief. If Rin still loved Karkov, then anything was possible. Maybe she still had feelings for Alana too. Nothing was certain, which meant that everything was uncertain. At least, this present meeting couldn’t be considered a betrayal if Rin and Karkov were already chummy. She would have been spared a lot of angst if she had known that up front. Nonetheless, this brought its own host of dangers. Things had just gotten very complicated. No, not ‘just gotten’. They had been that way all along. She just had taken this long to realize it, and that worried her.

“Was this related to the reason you refused to see me last time?” Alana asked.

Karkov offered a wry smile. “Everything is related to everything in some way. After all, ‘related’ and ‘responsible’ and ‘caused’ are just stories we tell ourselves to ascribe blame or claim credit. Are they related? Sure. Even you and I are related in more ways than I can count.”

“Don’t bother trying to cause me indigestion. I’m immune to it.”

The man studied her for a moment. “It seems that Rin discovered a way to recraft our spheres. Or, more precisely, she discovered that she can bind a second sphere to us, one which both contains and supersedes the original. It must at least reconfer our existing protections, to which she then can add certain compatible new ones. That’s my understanding.”

Alana had already suspected something along these lines and was interested to see how closely Karkov’s account paralleled her own speculation on the matter. Of course, speculation was just speculation, and the mere fact that Karkov’s words adhered to the contours of her own thoughts could not be mistaken for confirmation. Even if he knew the truth, the man was an inveterate liar. Nothing from his mouth could be trusted in the slightest. Alana was puzzled by the vehemence of her disdain. His perfidy was nothing new and had never stopped her from using him before. Why did she suddenly feel so peevish toward the man?

Was it that Rin had revealed so much to Karkov — even after all he had done to her — yet remain tightlipped with Alana? Did the woman view Karkov as an equal but her as a mere tool? If anything, Alana felt she had a greater claim to her affection. She had built Rin up, while Karkov had tried to tear her down. No, it was more than that. This wasn’t mere resentment at being spurned in favor of a rival. It was a matter of survival. Like it or not, Rin’s view of her was of the utmost importance.

As hard as Alana tried to reframe her own feelings as strategic, she could not. It stung, and she was ashamed of such weakness. Despite all Rin’s words, Alana had wanted to believe she still held a place in the woman’s heart. If even Karkov was afforded such trust — no, if the duplicitous bastard had usurped that place in her heart … Alana stopped herself. This was idiotic. What did Karkov have to do with it? She was acting like a jealous teenager and missing the big picture.

If anything, Rin’s trust of Karkov was a good sign. It meant that the woman’s judgment remained poor and her feelings weren’t immutable. Both bode well for Alana. She just needed to dust off her old self and become what she once was. She grimaced. Rin’s judgment was poor? Alana had almost allowed her own judgment to be clouded by some petty, lingering resentment of the man who stole Rin from her. Things were different now. She didn’t want Rin back. Quite the contrary, she wanted Rin to stay away.

Alana composed herself. “Your ‘understanding’ is irrelevant unless it is correct. Did she actually tell you this or did you just read between the lines of ‘fuck you’?”

Karkov grinned. “She didn’t offer, and I didn’t insist. It’s best to ease back into marital relations after an estrangement, however brief.”

Alana rolled her eyes. She should have known better than to expect a straight answer. It didn’t matter, though. Whether Karkov’s explanation turned out to be mere conjecture or a deception or Rin’s own fabrication or the actual truth from her very mouth, it was worth hearing. Alana would assume nothing about its provenance or veracity and merely judge based on plausibility. Rusty though she may be, she at least could do that much — as long as her basic premise was right. There was no escaping this. Without some assumptions, nothing could be posited about anything. That was the nature of science and strategy.

The most dangerous deceptions were always built around a substantial core of truth, embellished or curated. Anything as prosaic as a direct fabrication would easily reveal itself as such. The trick to spotting well-crafted lies was discerning the boundary of their core truth. The best subterfuge involved a thin varnish of poison, a nearly invisible distortion that derailed understanding and thwarted purpose.

From what little Rin had told her, Alana had surmised that the woman could modify protections in some fashion. If she could remove protections or destroy a sphere, there would be no need for ‘encumbrance’. She would just strip her victims and kill them. If that option were available to her, she would take it.

Rin’s biggest failing as a woman, a queen, and Alana’s acolyte was that she never learned to properly hate. Her hatred was tepid and tame, a mere tantrum. It flared and faded quickly, though it was still possible to get caught in the maelstrom. If she could have learned, she would have done so long ago. She simply lacked the aptitude for it. In Alana’s experience, such a failing was beyond repair. The woman would never truly hate. Rin was a blunt weapon and would forever remain one. If she destroyed Alana and Karkov, it would be cold and quiet and for a reason. There would be no gratuitous cruelty.

Alana was confident in this. Rin simply wasn’t malicious enough to encumber immortals if she could kill them instead. However, this didn’t mean that she was unable to kill them. Without fully understanding her motives, Alana couldn’t rule out the possibility that her mission required encumberment even if a more benign alternative existed. More benign? A more benign alternative did exist. Just leave everyone the hell alone.

Assuming that Rin’s goal was permanent incapacitation of every other immortal, the need for encumbrance suggested that she couldn’t simply subvert their protections. She had mentioned that it was difficult to find a merciful solution for the higher numbers. In light of Karkov’s survival, perhaps it was impossible to encumber him at all.

Did this extend to Eights? Rin claimed to have destroyed some, but Alana had no evidence of this. There were few of them to begin with, and she had kept in touch with even fewer — none of which had vanished recently.

Things made more sense now. Most likely, Rin’s threat was idle. If she could destroy Karkov, she wouldn’t need that ridiculous black-hole idea. However, this didn’t change Alana’s course of action. She couldn’t chance being wrong.

Besides, there was no reason not to help Rin. Who knew where such a thing could lead? Alana’s heart had skipped a beat when Rin revealed herself, though she quickly suppressed her feelings since Finn was there. She didn’t want to admit how turned on she was, despite the circumstances — or perhaps because of them.

Then again, what if the threat wasn’t idle and Rin was toying with them? With ‘them’ or just ‘her’? It could still be a trap, with Karkov the mastermind. There was too much she didn’t know.

Alana took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. Her goal was unaffected. She would steer the conversation toward the matter she had come to discuss. However, since an unanticipated opportunity had arisen, she would first learn more about encumberment. If Karkov was feeling loquacious, she would get out of the way and allow him to blather on while she furnished a rapt and deferential audience.

“If she adds protections, shouldn’t that improve us?” Alana asked.

“It can indeed,” Karkov replied. “How do you think she became as invulnerable as she is? She used to have only a few protections. Now she has … more.”

“It’s hardly surprising that she would want more after what you did to her,” Alana pointed out.

Karkov said nothing. He seemed lost in thought, and the silence began to drag on.

“You mentioned only being able to add certain protections,” Alana prompted.

“She doesn’t have unlimited latitude in choosing the new protections,” Karkov replied. “If she crafts an Eight on top of a Four, the first four protections must be the same, and the rest must not conflict with them. To encumber us, as she calls it, she chooses … less helpful protections. Ones that limit or incapacitate us completely. Just as the immortality bestowed by the first sphere is irreversible, this rebinding too is irreversible. Protections can only be added, and they cannot conflict with existing ones.”

This went significantly beyond Alana’s own broad speculation, yet remained consistent with it. So far, Karkov’s details made perfect sense, or as much sense as anything related to Rin and the spheres. That didn’t mean they were right, but at least they were plausible.

Alana wondered why she had failed to make the connection between negative protections and encumberment. She wasn’t exactly a stranger to them. In fact, she was the one who had first suggested the idea to Rin, back when that idiot Prince was making a nuisance of himself. Was ‘encumberment’ just the evolution of what Rin had done to him? Alana felt a certain pride at the thought, though there would be a perverse justice in falling victim to her own device so many years later. It brought to mind the tale of Perillus, burnt to death in the bronze bull he invented. However, there was one small difference: his torment had ended. In the story, Perillus’ master eventually met the same fate, and Alana wondered whether Rin would one day find herself encumbered. If so, it would almost certainly be by her own hand.

Karkov continued. “Once there are negative protections, no larger sphere can counter them. Nothing can save or relieve the damned.”

Alana quietly shuddered. Karkov made it sound so clinical … and consequential. His words drove home just how permanent the thing would be. Alana had hoped there was an escape valve, some means of releasing the encumbrances when Rin inevitably regretted her excesses. Barring that, perhaps there was some imperfection in their mechanism. However, this would call into question everyone’s existing protections as well — and her own immortality seemed to refute that possibility.

There always remained some hope, but it grew increasingly desperate. Karkov’s words could be untrue for myriad possible reasons. Even in the unlikely scenario that Rin had told him the truth and he had faithfully (and completely) relayed it, she could be mistaken. Just because she was the tool of the gods didn’t mean she was privy to their thoughts. A hammer did not require understanding.

Even if this was the truth, it could be incomplete. Perhaps understanding was granted the hammer only in small measure, as needed or at the whim of the gods. Two impossibilities had been discovered in Alana’s lifetime — and she had been unaware of one until a few days ago. A third could be discovered. Unfortunately, the existing two had both been discovered by the very woman who was deadset on destroying everyone. Rin was probably the only person who could discover a third, if such a thing existed.

If she encumbered Alana, she would not be inclined to reverse it. Would she, though? Rin could come to regret eternity alone. Maybe she would decide that her reason for doing all this — whatever it may be — was misguided. Even if such a remote eventuality came to pass, Alana didn’t relish suffering until Rin got around to her epiphany. Would she still be Alana when she was retrieved from perdition? She had seen minor tribulations ruin people. What would a taste of eternal torment do to her?

Alana realized that even these faint slivers of hope were barely sustainable. The reality had been clear from the moment Rin spoke her piece. Alana simply had been unwilling to accept it. There could be no subtraction, only addition. No mitigation, only cooperation. She was forced to confront the naked finality of encumbrance, and the fate which awaited her unless she could find a way to convince Rin before it was too late.

A small part of her still clung to this vanishing ray of hope, despite the repugnance she held for such folly. There had to be a way. How did he remain so calm? He faced the same damnation or worse. Should she clasp onto that? Should she hope that he knew something she did not, and that this something would benefit her as well?