The Blade of Shattered Hope (The 13th Reality #3) (11 page)

As for the inside of the house, it was finely decorated. Bookshelves made of a dark and shiny wood were everywhere, some of them stocked with leather-bound books, others with various porcelain sculptures, dishes, and other knickknacks. The furniture all seemed a little fancy, with frilly carvings and flower prints and lacy stuff here and there. But at least the chairs were comfortable, and the soft carpet was easily three inches thick. Over a huge fireplace—which looked like it could burn an entire forest in no time—hung a portrait of an old woman just as tall and awkward-looking as Mothball and her mother.

“So,” Tollaseat said, his voice like a massive tolling bell, “Sato, my friend, I can’t tell you how nice it is to finally meet you.”

“Thanks,” Sato said, nodding with a curt smile. He couldn’t quite settle down, trying desperately to come to terms with his connection to the recently murdered ruler of the Fifth Reality. Why would a fifteen-year-old kid be the leader of an entire planet? It was just too bizarre. And if those Bugaboo soldiers—what a ridiculous name!—really wanted him dead . . .

Rutger cleared his throat. He was perched on a chair, his short legs dangling like a little kid’s. He glanced sidelong at Sato. “You’ll have to excuse our new Realitant friend. He’s not one for a lot of words. I’m sure he’s very happy to meet you too.”

“Ah,” Tollaseat scoffed, waving at the air with both hands. “No bother, really, no bother at all. We’re simply thrilled to have the lot of you come and sit a spell. No need for jabbering and such.”

Sato had to figure this out. “Could someone please explain to me about my Alterant? How could these psycho clown soldiers possibly think I’d come to this world and become the . . . what did you call it?”

“Grand Minister,” Windasill said quietly, as if indulging a child taking a quiz.

Sato snapped his fingers. “Yeah, that. How could they think I’d become the Grand Minister of the Fifth Reality? And why would they want to kill me in the first place?”

Mothball was sitting directly across from him. She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. “We think the Bugs and Mistress Jane have gone off and made some type of nasty arrangement. Mayhaps done it quite some time ago. And we reckon old Jane put out the scoop on you and your friends. Looking for revenge, she was. Just happens that your Alterant became our Minister, and the Bugs thought maybe we’d planted you. Replaced Sato Tadashi in a swap. Like we’d wanna ruddy take over the Reality or some such nonsense.”

“They must be the dumbest people in the universe,” Rutger muttered.

“No, no, my friend,” Tollaseat said, shaking his head. “Crazy, vicious, bloodsucking tyrants, maybe. But not dumb. That I can promise ya.”

Sato ran a hand through his hair, not sure which bothered him more: that his Alterant just happened to be the ruler of an entire planet, or that a group of crazy clown soldiers wanted him dead. Scratch that, he thought. The second one was definitely worse.

“Wait a minute,” he said, just realizing something that should’ve been obvious from the start. “How could they possibly think that guy was me? Wouldn’t he have been way taller?”

“Not really,” Tollaseat answered. “Most of us chaps here in the Fifth don’t hit our growth spurts ’til we hit drinkin’ age. That not the same in your neck of the woods?”

Sato shrugged his shoulders wearily. “This is weird,” he said, as if those three words summed up everything. Maybe they did. “I really feel like I’m missing something. And why’d you guys bring me here if you knew all this?”

Mothball’s face scrunched up into a look of apology. “Sorry ’bout that. Really I am. Never thought we’d run into the Bugs. They ’aven’t been about much lately, according to me parents. Thought their troubles with these parts was quite well and over.”

“Quite true,” Tollaseat added. “Had our wars with ’em blokes back when Mothball was a wee one, but not seen ’em much since. No idea why they’re up in the deadie fields today. Strange, really.”

Sato folded his arms and stared at the floor. Staying here much longer didn’t sound like a good idea. “Well, maybe we should go back to headquarters. If those clowns want to kill me, I’d just as soon not be hanging out a couple of miles from them.”

“Leave before supper?” Tollaseat exclaimed, shooting up from his seat. “Not a chance. I’ve got all three ovens runnin’ top heat, cookin’ a feast like you’ve never seen before, young man. Bugs ’ave no idea you’re ’ere, I’d bet me left shoe. You just sit there and enjoy yourself with me wife and daughter while I go ready things up.”

Windasill reached out and patted Sato on the knee. “I married the best cook in the entire valley, I did. Good thing me blood runs fast and hot, or I’d look like poor Rutger sitting over there.”

Sato felt his eyes widen. He glanced quickly over at Rutger, who didn’t seem fazed in the least by the rude comment.

“I’d rather be down close to the ground,” the man said. “Safe and balanced, fat and happy. Lot better than looking like a bunch of dusty bones with clothes.”

Windasill laughed, the nicest sound Sato remembered hearing in a long time. “Oh, Rutger, we do love you so. Every last inch of you—and that’s saying quite a lot.” Giggling, she left the room, presumably to help her husband in the kitchen.

Once she was gone, Sato sat up straighter and glared first at Rutger, then Mothball. “This is crazy. Is all that stuff true?”

“Right as rain,” Mothball replied. “What’s all the fuss? We’ll have our dinner and be on our way, we will.”

Rutger rolled forward until he plopped off the chair and onto his feet. “If anything, you’re safer than ever. They think they killed you, remember? Calm down, and let’s go eat. I’m—”

“Let me guess,” Sato interrupted. “Starving.”

“How’d you know?”

“Come on, funny bunnies,” Mothball said, standing up on her tall legs. “I could use a bite to eat myself.” She reached down and swatted Rutger on the back before moving toward the kitchen, her best friend right on her heels.

Sato stared at their backs until they disappeared out of the room. How weird had his life become? He was standing in a house that made him feel like he was four feet tall, in an entirely different world, about to eat dinner with three giants and a man shaped like a big beach ball, in a place where his twin had been the leader of the entire planet and had been assassinated by insane men dressed like clowns.

Could it get any stranger?

Refusing to answer that question, he walked quickly out of the room and toward the wonderful smells wafting from the kitchen.

~

Frazier Gunn stared down at the twelfth Alterant of Mistress Jane.

She was huge. And she was the last of them.

This one had been living a normal life in a small village in the Fifth Reality, where quirks of evolution, diet, and climactic factors had led to an unusually large race of humans. He guessed the woman sitting in front of him, now safely chained to the twisty black stone of the twelfth Blade component, had to be almost eight feet tall, and skinny— like she’d eaten nothing but lettuce her whole life. Crooked teeth, no makeup, stringy black hair.

And yet, even then, she was beautiful. Despite the tears streaming down her face, despite the constant begging, despite the disgusting way she wrung her hands and wiped snot from her nose with her fingers, she was beautiful to him. Maybe it was just the resemblance to Jane. He hadn’t seen her in days and missed her terribly. Maybe it was his longing for how she’d looked before the terrible Atticus Higginbottom incident. Maybe it was a lot of things.

But he was wasting time. He had to get back to the Thirteenth.

“Please,” the woman whimpered for the thousandth time since being dragged from her garden. With her size and surprising strength, Frazier had been forced to use the Stunning Rod Jane had created for him, jolting the Alterant every so often to remind her to cooperate. It’d been a long and grueling trip. But nothing could dampen his spirits now—it was over. The hardest mission of his life was finally over.

Now the exciting part would begin.

“Please don’t leave me here,” the Alterant said between loud sniffs. “I ’ave children, I do. Me husband’s away. None to take care of the wee ones.”

Frazier leaned over, looking her square in the eyes. “Please be quiet.” He dropped a pack of food and water at her feet then straightened and turned to walk away, moving as quickly as he could so he wouldn’t have to hear her wailing pleas for help. He knew he should’ve told her what a good cause she was participating in, how eventually great things would come from Jane’s plan with the Blade of Shattered Hope. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was too tired to speak anymore.

He topped a rise and quickly went down the deep slope. The woman’s screeching, painful cries finally faded into the background. Capturing her had been the worst by far, maybe because she was the only one who hadn’t had some kind of criminal or shady background. Of course, the pitiful lady didn’t know this, but she had very good reason to feel such hopeless desperation.

Of the twelve Alterants of Mistress Jane, this one in the Fifth would be the only one to die. Well, this time around, anyway.

~

Mistress Jane stood at her favorite spot in the entire Lemon Fortress—maybe her favorite spot in all of the Realities. The open window of her room overlooked countless miles of forests, fields of green grass and wildflowers, and the snowcapped mountains in the distance. The beauty of it was overwhelming, even as seen through the eyeholes of her mask.

Normally she’d take it off, but she expected Frazier to report at any minute. And despite several months having passed since her entire body had been scorched and mutilated by Higginbottom, she had yet to let anyone see her true self—only her hands, so they’d know something horrible had happened. But she was still too ashamed, too embarrassed to reveal any other part of her now-hideous body.
Especially
her face. A face that had once, she thought proudly, been very, very beautiful.

A face that now looked like the scarred surface of a planet too close to a boiling sun.

At least the pain had subsided somewhat. With her increased powers over Chi’karda, she’d spent many days experimenting until she’d finally been able to manipulate her nervous system, a complex network of seemingly infinite human “wires.” In the beginning she could only reduce the pain when she concentrated, focusing in deep meditation. But as the weeks passed, she’d come to learn to do it on instinct, and life had become much sweeter. More conducive to fulfilling her long-awaited plans.

But, unfortunately, she was still a long way from changing her appearance. For now, she had to settle for the robe and the mask to hide herself from the world, even from her closest friends.

Friends,
with an “s” at the end? She was being far too generous. Only one person in all the Realities considered her a friend—Frazier.

Speaking of the devil, she heard a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she said, sending out a wave of Chi’karda to dissolve the door, something she’d done a thousand times—much more satisfying than merely pulling it open, and a task that was much easier now with her supercharged abilities over the realm of physics.

She looked over from where she stood next to the window, and after Frazier had stepped through, she imagined the billions of tiny particles that made up the wood of the door coming back together. She
pushed
a mental surge in that direction, and with a buzzing swoosh, the door appeared as it had seconds before, unblemished and whole.

With another mere thought, she made one of the eyebrows on her red metal mask arch upward. “Is it finished?”

Frazier walked over, obviously trying his hardest not to smile, but it was there anyway, especially in his eyes. “Yes, Mistress. The twelfth one is in place, secured in the Fifth. All of them have nanolocators and monitoring devices injected within their bodies. The observation area is alive and chirping as we speak. All we need now is—”

“I know what we need!” Jane snapped, flowing her mask into anger. “Honestly, Frazier, sometimes you act as if all this were your idea, your plan. Keep speaking to me like I’m some lowly wretch, and I’ll end your service to me—swiftly and painfully, I assure you. I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done for me.”

She regretted the words even as they flew out of her mouth, hating the look of sincere and utter hurt that melted the poor man’s face. But they had to be said. Once again, Frazier had shown traces of . . . confidence. Too much of it. She couldn’t allow it. Confidence led to insubordination and betrayal. Always.

“I’m sorry, Mistress,” Frazier muttered, his eyes downcast, his hands folded in front of him. “I’m only excited to see our—um, I mean,
your
plan—come to fruition.”

There it was again, even after she’d rebuked him.
Our
plan—he’d actually said it! As much as it would hurt her, and as much as it would cause even more loneliness for her, she had to distance herself from him. Now more than ever.

“Very well, Frazier. Have a seat.” She gestured toward the couch by the fireplace, then followed behind him until he sat down. She sat in the armchair directly across from him. The stone hearth to their right was dark and cold.

Bringing her mask back to a smooth, calm expression, she crossed her legs under the loose folds of her robe, instinctively suppressing the pain with her power the instant she felt it. “Let’s be clear. All twelve of my Alterants are currently chained to the Blade devices, in each Reality, including Prime, within the specified ranges of the needed coordinates?”

Frazier nodded, his face now pale.
Ah,
she thought. She
had
gone too far. When the man got too frightened, he became useless. Somehow she needed to learn how to hold back.

“Are you certain they’re undisturbed?” she asked, trying to speak with a soothing voice. For all his tendency to fear her, he usually melted back to stupefied worship easily enough. “They’re all alive and well?”