Chapter #7The Dingus by: Seuzz   "Them's the facts as I see 'em," Nash says, and leans back with a sigh. He pushes his glasses down and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Von Gerssdorff may be a devil, but he's not pointlessly malicious."
"Not pointlessly malicious," Charles emphasizes. His expression is very tight. "And even the devil prefers his malice to have a point."
"If it's malice behind what he done to the sprog, it's well-hid," Nash says. "To all appearances, he's done Will a very generous turn." He takes off his glasses and chews on the earpiece.
It's a little over a week after you dove into the Libra, and you are standing in Nash's work shop with him and Charles. True to his word, the warlock inside the book had told the outer world how to get you back out: Above the moon script new runes had appeared. So Nash had fashioned a golem, and placed the Libra upon it.
And as soon as they had done so, you had appeared where the golem had been resting; and to all appearances you were unchanged.
Which is quite odd, because your mask and all your clothes had materialized alongside you as well. And yet here you are, sporting the face captured in that mask, even as you hold the mask in your hands.
"It's the exact same imago," Nash declares, waving his glasses at your face and at the mask. "Woven into his substantia the same as yours or mine are woven into ours. Von Gerssdorff must've copied that imago onto him from the mask before sending the sprog back to us."
"But he didn't send all of him back," Charles observes with a pained frown. "Not only your substantia--"
"Which doesn't matter," Nash points out. "Substantia is interchangeable, and the golem we made serves him just as well."
"Your shattered imago is gone," Charles continues.
"The devil is very practical," Nash says. "He'd have seen it would be useless out here, so he bundled Will back with the imago he'd made for himself."
"And your essentia, son." Charles's voice sinks into a whisper.
Aye, there's the rub. And Nash has nothing to say about that. "All things considered, sir," you say quietly. "I prefer to look on the bright side. I got out, I'm alive, and I don't need to wear a mask anymore."
Charles smiles grimly. "I'm glad of that too, son."
"There's ways of fixing it, probably," Nash says, and grasps your elbow with a reassuring grip. "And it's not like he lost his connection to both his ousiarchs."
Still ...
You've had a year to acclimate yourself to the remarkable change in your life, going from being a listless, ambitionless high school senior to a novitiate in an ancient order of--
The Stellae don't like the words "magic" or "magicians", and tend simply to refer to themselves as "Stellae": those entangled with the planets and able to use their prodigies. Your prodigies came from Sulva and Kenandandra, and the latter, it was explained to you, explains your talent for sigilistic logic and the creation of useful little toys and devices. Like the self-tying tie you gave Charles for Christmas last year. He'd laughed over it and thanked you for it, and left it to Joe to quietly tell you he had a closet of such things already.
But now ...
"I suppose the sprog had to give up something, if he was to come back with those sigils on him," Nash says. Yes, the part of you that was entangled with Kenandandra is now gone in a clean amputation. In its place--
"What do you make of those sigils?" Charles asks. "And how are they upon him?"
"It's the sigils from the Libra," Nash says. "The first fourteen, the same as we'd unlocked in the book, and I suspect the rest are in there too. And they're carved into his substantia the same as they are in the Libra. Will can execute them now himself without need of the book." He sucks in his cheeks. "Maybe more than that. Have to run a few tests to be sure, and don't wanna speculate too hard--"
"You make it sound as if von Gerssdorff took Will completely apart while he was there," Charles says.
"How else would you fit someone inside a book," Nash retorts. "Will says he met the bastard face to face, but of course it was anima to anima. Whaddaya think, Charles," he chuckles. "Was it worth the experiment to find out where von Gerssdorff's been hiding all these years?"
"No," Charles says bluntly. "If I'd known he was there I'd never have consented to the experiment. And now that we know after the fact--" He looks at you. And for the first time since meeting him, you don't like the expression he wears as he contemplates you.
Nash puts a gentle hand on Charles's arm. "It's Will, Charles," he says gently. "I double checked everything. Anima is identical too." He indicates the special band that you'd made of yourself two days before running the experiment; it looks like a mind band, but the letters of your name glow redly. "I even put it on the sprog. It just refreshed itself, and came back out."
* * * * *
"What do you think, Rick?" you ask.
Rick Bredon looks you up and down in a way that suggests he'd much rather be dissecting the victim of a shark attack. "Creepy, is what I think." He looks away, and gulps down half of his drink.
"Think two Nash Carnes is too much of a good thing?" Nash grins.
You wince. You and Nash are dressed exactly alike, in dirty coveralls, and have equally gray hair cut equally short; you have equally ruddy faces and wear identical pairs of glasses. Only in attitude do you differ. Nash grins raffishly and has his hands on his hips. You've got yours tucked in your pockets, and hunch your shoulders. This is mortifying. Because--
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, son," Charles chides Nash softly. "The trick is not so much more clever than when it is done with masks."
Because Nash is pretending to be you pretending to be Nash, while you are pretending to be the original Nash Carnes. And if Nash thinks you'd be so pleased at being able to pull off this kind of imposture, well, then Nash doesn't know you as well as you know him. Because you've not just got a copy of his body, you've got a copy of his mind.
Your mentor was right: The sigils that von Gerssdorf put on you are themselves duplicates of those in the Libra. And you are not only able to execute them so as to create masks and other objects; you can execute them upon your own golemized body, giving yourself the ability to copy the imago of others and wear it yourself. For a week you and Nash had worked together, discovering and finessing the details. You've only to lay your hands upon another person, and their imago becomes woven like a pattern into your substantia, and you can call it up when you want simply by concentrating. They appear like constellations in your mind when you retreat inside yourself ...
"What I'm asking," you say to Rick, "is whether you get any sense of an imposture."
"Nash hasn't got a twin," Rick retorts. "Ain't hard to figure someone's trying to pull a fast one."
"No, I mean--"
"I get what you mean," Rick says. "Since you ask, I'm getting no flutter off the dingus." His face tightens as he looks between you and Nash. "Couldn't spot the difference if I didn't know there was one to look for."
"Awesome," Nash says, and bounces on his feet.
"Will--" Charles repeats.
"Leave the dingus alone, Chaz," Rick says. "He's acting appropriately. Edison, on the other hand--" He glares hard at Nash.
Your mentor falters. "Wait, you think I'm Nash," he grins weakly.
"Cut it out. You're embarrassing the dingus. Isn't he?" Rick turns to you.
"It's not as bad as you calling me a 'dingus,' Rick," you mutter back. "Can I change back now?"
Nash shrugs. "Knock yerself out. But since we got busted-- Rick, how'd you--"
You fall back inside yourself; constellations show, and you pluck the one you are used to wearing.
"--dingus has got better manners," Rick is saying when you return. "He mimicked you pretty good, Edison. You didn't have him at all."
"Oh well," Nash shrugs. "I wasn't the one auditioning for--"
He stops, and your quartet all look at each other.
"It's the boss man's call," Rick shrugs. "His and the dingus's. What say you," he says to you. "Wanna learn how to use this trick of yours properly? Gonna be hard, gonna be ugly. And if you want my advice--"
"I've already spoken of this with Will," Charles says softly. "Son?"
You take a deep breath. "It seems the logical thing for me," you say. "If you'll take me on, Rick, I'm willing to learn how to--" You break off.
"How to be a spy and an assassin," Rick says bluntly. "Best get used to using the words. It'll make it easier to control yourself." You have the following choice:  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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