They stood in silence. There should be a feeling of victory here. A crisis surmounted. But there was no triumph. Just something that felt like waiting.
Mari shook it off first. She turned to Lore with a smile that was only slightly strained. “Let’s go, mouse. We need to get Alie back to Dellaire; Finn has agreed to escort us. There will be plenty to do once we arrive, I’m sure, but first you’ll need to rest…”
She trailed off slowly, timed to Lore’s shaking head. “I can’t,” Lore said, not realizing what she meant to say until it was already out of her mouth. “I have to stay.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Val snapped, the same tone she took with poison runners who’d fucked up a drop, though there was less vitriol and more fear behind it. “There’s nothing here, Lore. It’s done.”
“But it’s not,” Lore said. “At least, not forever. Malcolm is right; this could all start over again, so easily. Someone has to make sure it doesn’t. Someone has to make sure the cycle doesn’t begin again.”
“But it doesn’t have to be you.” Mari’s dark eyes shone; her hand on Lore’s arm was gentle and pleading. “You’ve done enough. Let someone else do this part.”
She couldn’t, though, because this part was hers. Gabe had been the catalyst, rushing in to save her like always, freeing her from Apollius but only through the worst circumstances. And Bastian had been the consequence, a sacrifice to close a cosmic door.
And Lore was, as always, the end.
So she just shook her head. Smiled at her mothers, at Alie and Malcolm and Michal. “I have to,” she said simply. Then she turned, headed back toward the Fount. Behind her, she heard the scuffle of Val wanting to follow, of Mari doing the same. The low murmur of Alie, of Malcolm. They both understood. The ghosts of divinity made these kinds of things clear.
Before Lore crossed the tree line again, she turned around. Looked at Raihan. “Come with me.”
He startled back, brows furrowed. “Why?”
“Because things should be written down, and I know you have a notebook.” She pushed through the burnt trees. “We need to make sure it’s only the truth, this time. The truth and nothing else.”
Quickly, quickly; back up the mountain, past the broken settlements, back to the made-whole Fount, gold and shining and singing. Raihan walked with his mouth agape, peering at everything as if he wanted to memorize it, but Lore stalked into the courtyard with the same stance as she’d once stalked into a boxing ring, hands on her hips and feet planted.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” she said to the Fount.
The singing didn’t stop, but it softened, became a buzz of background noise. The Fount’s voice moved sinuous through the air, allowing Itself to be heard. “And what is it that you want?”
“What I want is my men back,” she said, “but I’m willing to talk terms. You need me, still.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Raihan wrestling a notebook of his pocket, hurriedly finding a pen. He looked around for somewhere to sit and write, then decided on the ground.
She let him get settled before continuing. There needed to be a record of this.
“You grow arrogant,” the Fount said. It wasn’t cajoling anymore, not now that It had what It needed from her. Ridiculous to think of a magic fountain as sounding irritated, but at this point Lore was used to ridiculousness. It was rather rude, though, all things considered. “You are not a god, to demand things of Us.”
“I mean, I was up until a few hours ago, by Your insistence. You needed me to bring You back the magic You lost. The magic Youlet Yourself lose.” Lore crossed her arms. “And that really brings us nicely to the crux of my argument: This can happen again.”
Water sloshed thoughtfully. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” Lore said. “I saw Nyxara’s memories. They stole from You, but You let them—gave terms, gave second deaths, allowed Them to become what They did. You could have stopped Them, and You didn’t. Why?”
The waters churned, threads of magic tangling and coming apart as the Fount thought. “We did notwantThem to take from Us, you understand,” It finally said. “But as it was happening, We thought… it was something new. A new world. And new worlds are Our business.”
“So it was just a diversion for You,” Lore said. “You didn’t think of the consequences. How like a god.”
The Fount frothed but didn’t dispute her.
Lore glanced sideways at Raihan, writing so furiously he’d nearly worn holes through the paper. Good. He was getting all of it.
“And that,” Lore replied, turning back to the Fount, “is why You can’t be trusted.”
The waters churned faster now, nearly breaching the sides of the Fount’s walls. “Insolent child. We are not your petty gods, with human wants. We are older. We are unknowable.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Lore said. “And it’s true. You have nothing human in You. This world is of little consequence, since You can just make another. You can spin new existences into possibility on a whim—at least, You can when You have all Your power. You were going to let this world dissolve like… like a child destroying a toy it doesn’t want to play with anymore!”
Glowing waters sloshed in the Fount, but that was Its only reply.
