Текст книги "Perfect State"

Автор книги: Brandon Sanderson

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a novella

BRANDON SANDERSON

On the three-hundredth anniversary of my birth, I finally managed to conquer the world. The entire world. It had made for a rather memorable birthday present, though admittedly I’d been placed into this world with the intention and expectation that I’d someday rule it.

The next fifty years had put me at risk of boredom. After all, what did a man possibly do with his time after conquering the world?

In my case, I’d developed a nemesis.

“He’s planning something, Shale,” I said, stirring the sugar into my tea.

“Who?” Shale was the only man I knew who could lounge while wearing full plate armor. He hardly ever took the stuff off; it was part of his Concept.

“Who do you think?” I said, sipping the tea and leafing through the letters on my desk, each sealed by a daub of dark red wax. The two of us sat on a large flying stone platform with chairs and railings like a patio’s. I’d Lanced us a barrier over the top to ward off the rainstorm thrumming outside. The Grand Aurora shimmered above—visible even through the stormclouds—illuminating the ground beneath us and painting it faintly blue.

The occasional crashes of lightning from the storm highlighted a hundred other platforms flying in formation around my own. They carried a small retinue of soldiers—only six thousand—as my honor guard.

Thunder shook us. Shale yawned. “You really need to figure out weather, Kai.”

“I will eventually.” These last fifty years spent studying the practical application of Lancing had been most productive, but controlling the weather—at least on a grand scale—eluded me.

I sipped my tea. It was growing cold, but at least that I could do something about. I undid the buttons on my right sleeve, exposing my skin to the blue-violet light pulsing from the sky. The Grand Aurora encircled the entire world, and even the mightiest storms did little more than churn its mother-of-pearl shimmering. The Aurora defeated storms; that was how I knew I’d someday be able to do it too.

I entered Lancesight, and everything around me dimmed. Everything but the Grand Aurora. I basked in its warm light, which I could suddenly feel striking my skin with a pulsing rhythm. I drew the power in through my arm, then sent the energy up out my fingers and into the cup.

The tea began to steam. I sipped it and left Lancesight as I cracked open one of the letters. The seal was imprinted with the symbol of my spy networks.

Your Majesty, the note read. I believe it necessary to inform you that the Wode Scroll has once again—

I crumpled the paper.

“Uh-oh,” Shale said.

“It’s nothing,” I said, dropping the piece of paper and doing up my sleeve. It wasn’t from my spy networks at all; Besk simply knew I opened spy reports first.

The platform shook in another peal of thunder as I looked through a set of reports, each with my imperial mark at the top.

“You can’t make this thing go any faster, can you?” Shale asked.

“Be glad we don’t have to do this the old way.”

“The old way? Like . . . on a horse?” Shale scratched his chin. “I miss that.”

“Really? The sore backsides, riding through the rain, getting bitten, finding food for the beasts . . .”

“Horses have personality. This platform doesn’t.”

“You’re just saying that because it’s part of your Concept,” I said. “The dashing knight riding on horseback, winning the hands of fair maidens.”

“Sure, sure. I had quite the collection of hands. Couple of arms, the occasional foot . . .”

I smiled. Shale was now happily married with five children. The only maidens he spent any time with were the ones who called him Daddy and begged him for sweets.

I continued looking through reports. The next was the preliminary sketch for a new set of coins to be minted later in the year, bearing my image. It was mostly right, depicting my strong features and hair that curled regally to my shoulders. The beard was too big, however. I wore mine neat and squared, kept at a modest finger’s length, to present a strong image. The thing in the picture was far too bushy.

I made notes on the sketch, then continued on, ignoring the crumpled-up note I’d thrown on the floor. Besk was far too clever for his own good. I needed to fire the man and hire a stupid chancellor. Either that or hack Besk and rewrite his Concept.

Rewriting Concepts was a pain, though. And, truth be told, I was terrible at hacking, which was why—despite centuries together—I’d never gotten around to changing Besk. It wasn’t, of course, because I was fond of the chancellor. The troll-like man never did what I told him. I ruled literally billions of people, and only this one ignored my will.

“Here,” I said, holding up a report to Shale. “Look at this.”

Shale sauntered over, armor clanking. “Another robot?” He yawned.

“Melhi’s robots are dangerous.”

“Yawn.”

“You just yawned. You don’t need to say it.”

“Yawn. Whatever happened to the big quests, Kai? Hunting dragons, searching out magical swords? All you do these days is study magic and duel with Liveborn from other States.”

“I’m getting older, Shale,” I said, looking over the report again. My spies had overheard some of Melhi’s men in a Border State bragging about this new robot of his. I shook my head. Melhi was still smarting after what I’d done to him at Lecours, a different Border State we could both access. He’d been so certain his armies would overwhelm mine.

“Getting older?” Shale laughed. “What does that have to do with it? You’re immortal. Your body is young.”

I couldn’t explain it to him. The quests he referred to—building a kingdom, searching out hidden treasures and secrets, uniting those who would follow and conquering those who would not . . . Well, those had been what I’d needed as a youth. They’d made me into the person I was, the person who could rule an empire.

That empire pretty much ruled itself these days. We had imperial senates, diplomats, ministers. I was very careful not to step in unless something grossly stupid needed straightening. In truth, I relished nights spent in my study, experimenting, meditating. Only occasional government functions—like the one earlier today, where we’d commemorated the fiftieth year since the unification of the world—drew me out.

Well, that and the attacks by Melhi.

The churning rain outside suddenly vanished, and the heavens grew bright. The Grand Aurora was still there, but it now hovered in a sky that was blue instead of stormy grey. We’d reached Alornia. I stood up from my desk, walking to the edge of the platform, and watched the near-endless streets of the city blur beneath us.

At least here, at the center of my power, I could stop the storms. Eventually, I thought to myself. Eventually I’ll be able to do it without an Aurorastone affixed to the middle of the city.

Alornia was a place of bulbous golden domes atop finger towers. The platform slowed in its preplanned course and swung down over the city, trailed by the hundred platforms carrying my honor guard. People waited below to watch us pass; my movements were matters of national record. And so, cheers roared beneath us, as if a stream to carry us along.

I smiled. Perhaps I should get out more. At my side, Shale rested his hand on his sword, watching those below with narrowed eyes.

“Nobody’s going to be able to hit me from all the way down there,” I said, amused.

“You never know, Kai.”

The platform descended toward the palace, which sat on the hill at the center of the city, and docked at the side of my large tower, becoming a balcony again. I strode off and into my study as a group of servants in vests, loose pants, and bare chests trotted out onto the balcony and lifted my desk to carry it after us.

Shale stretched, clinking. “That trip seems to get longer every time.”

“It would probably be more comfortable without the armor.”

“I’m your bodyguard, Kai,” Shale said. “One of us has to be ready. Remember when those sky nomads tried to pinch you?” Shale smiled fondly, in the way a man might while remembering a youthful romance. “Or that time when we got trapped in the Tendrils of Sashim?”

“Sure do. You carried me . . . how far?”

“A good fifty miles,” Shale said. “Lords. That was . . . that was over a hundred years ago now, wasn’t it?”

I said nothing. Shale didn’t age—long ago, he and I had discovered a secret draught of long life in the hoard of the dragon Galbrometh. These days, I wondered if that draught had been placed there specifically for me to find, so I’d have an acceptable reason for not aging. I hadn’t known the truth of my nature until I’d reached fifty, the Wode’s Age of Awareness.

Shale stretched again. “Well, best to remain vigilant. It’s when everything is calm that you need to be most alert.”

“Most certainly. Thank you for your help today.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a good thing I’m around, eh? Anyway, I’m going to go check in with Sindria. See what the kids are up to, you know?”

“Good idea,” I said, watching the servants carefully arrange all the items on my desk. Did I have time to file those reports . . . ?

No. I needed to get moving. I walked toward Shale, who was opening the doors that led to the hallway. He gave me a questioning look.

“If I’m quick,” I explained, “I might be able to get down into the lab before Besk can—”

Shale pulled the door all the way open. Besk stood outside.

“Ouch,” Shale said. “Sorry, Kai.”

Besk raised a single painted-on eyebrow. He was like one of those statues that people carved on the outsides of buildings. Limbs that seemed too long, robes too stiff, face expressionless. Long ago, I’d shared a drop of my draught of immortality with him. He’d haunted me ever since.

He bowed. “Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Besk,” I said. “I’m afraid the daily briefing will have to wait. I had some very important mental breakthroughs regarding Lancing that I absolutely must record.”

Besk regarded me for a long, unblinking moment. He carried a distinctive piece of slate in his fingers. As large as a book, yet incredibly thin, there was nothing else like it in the empire. To the side, one of the servants helpfully carried in the crumpled paper I’d left on the balcony, then set it on the desk, just in case it was important.

Besk’s eyebrow rose another notch. “I will walk with you to the lab then, Your Majesty.”

Shale gave me a farewell pat on the shoulder, then clanked away. He’d faced assassins, terrors, and rebels without flinching, but even after all this time, Besk made him nervous.

“You may wish to consider giving Sir Shale a leave of retirement, Your Majesty,” Besk said as we began to walk.

“He likes what he does. And I like having him around.”

“Your will is, of course, law.”

“Yeah. Unless the Wode is involved.”

“In over a century of rule, this is the only time the Wode has called upon you.” Besk held up the piece of slate he carried. The Wode Scroll, the only official means of communicating with the outside.

The Scroll was filled with words, none of which I wanted to read. From the little I saw, however, the tone of the Wode’s letters was growing more forceful. I had been ignoring them too long.

We walked for a time in silence until we eventually left the corridor and stepped out onto a wall-walk between towers. I shouldn’t be so hard on Besk, I knew. He was acting according to his Concept, and was loyal in his own way, even when he was disobedient.

Below, a cheer went up, and I raised a hand absently toward my subjects. Was that a band playing? The Grand Aurora shimmered in the sky, though—for once—its light failed to comfort me.

“Is it such an onerous task, Your Majesty?” Besk asked. “The Wode requests of you only one day, to go and perform a task most people would consider pleasurable.”

“It’s not the task itself. It’s the nature of being . . . summoned like this. What good is it to be emperor if someone else can just call on me as if I were a common cupbearer or messenger boy? It undermines everything I’ve done, everything I’ve accomplished.”

“They merely ask you to do your duty to your species.”

“What duty has my species ever done to me?”

“My lord,” Besk said, stopping on the wall-walk. “This is most unseemly of you. I’m reminded of the child you were, not the king you have become.”

I tried to walk onward without him, but my shoes felt as if they were filled with lead. I stopped a few steps ahead of him, not looking back.

“It is your duty,” Besk repeated.

“I’m a brain in a jar, Besk,” I said. “One of trillions. Why can’t they bother one of the others?”

“It has been determined that you have accomplished great—”

“We’ve all accomplished great things,” I said, spinning and waving my hands toward the city. “That’s the point of all this. How many of those trillions of others are living lives just like mine, in Primary Fantastical States?”

“The programming allows—even requires—that each State be individually tailored.”

“It doesn’t matter, Besk,” I said. Lords! I hated thinking about this.

The Wode had only interfered with my life twice. First at age fifty, to inform me that my reality was a layered simulation.

And now to demand that I procreate.

“It’s meaningless,” I said, stepping up to Besk. He wasn’t of the Wode, of course; I’d never actually met any of them. He was a part of my reality, my State. But he, like everything else in the entirety of my existence, would serve the Wode if required. They controlled the programming and, if pressed, they could change anything in this world—anything but me myself—to force me to obey.

Lords, how it hurt to think about that.

“The requirements are inane,” I continued. “They need my DNA to create new Liveborn humans? Well, fine. They can take it. Stick a little needle or whatever into my jar and withdraw it. Simple.”

“They require you to interact with a woman, Your Majesty. The precepts say you must choose her, and she you, and then you must meet one another and perform the act.”

“Our bodies are just simulations. Why must we meet?”

“I do not know.”

“Bah!” I stalked off the wall-walk and back into the palace.

Besk followed. “I’ve ordered the hunting range filled with wild draklings, Your Majesty. The most vicious we could find. Perhaps destroying them will put you in a more fond mood.”

“Perhaps,” I said.

Even thinking about the Wode turned me into a child again; Besk was right on that count. I’d commanded armies of thousands and I’d single-handedly forged an empire that spanned continents. But this . . . this made a spoiled brat out of me. I stopped inside the stairwell.

“I do not know all the reasons for the rules, my lord,” Besk said more softly, stepping up and resting a hand on my shoulder. “But they are ancient, and have served your kind well. XinWey’s Doctrine states—”

“Don’t lecture me,” I said.

He fell silent, but . . . damn it . . . I could hear his voice in my head. He’d read off these rules to me often enough.

XinWey’s Doctrine states that the most essential morality of mankind is to create the greatest amount of happiness among the greatest number of people while using the least amount of resources.

Turned out, the best way to create greatly satisfied people using minimal resources was to remove their brains when they were fetuses and attach them to simulated realities tailored to fit their emerging personalities. Each Liveborn received an entire world in which they were the most important person of their time. Some became artists, others politicians, but each had a chance for supreme greatness.

All of this took only the space required for a box about the size of a melon—simulation machinery, brain, and nutrient bath all included. Incredibly efficient. And . . . to be honest, I didn’t resent it; hell, I loved it. I got to be an emperor, and while the simulation gave me opportunities, each step—each grueling quest or accomplishment—had to be my own. I’d earned this life.

Thinking of the millions upon millions of others who had done the same, though . . . that unnerved me. Were there millions of Besks, and millions of Shales, millions of mes, all living beneath a Grand Aurora?

Everything else in my existence had taught me I was unique, important, and powerful. I rebelled at the idea that I might just be another person.

“It will not take long, my lord,” Besk said. “Choose one of the women from the list—the Wode ranked them for you with compatibility projections—and send her a request to meet. Perhaps you could dine together.”

“A woman from their list,” I snapped. “A Liveborn woman, with her own world to rule. Lords, she’ll be insufferable.” The closest I ever wanted to get to another Liveborn was across the battlefield in a Border State, and it had taken me some time to warm even to that. My first meeting with Melhi had—

“My lord,” Besk said. “The wall.”

I started, realizing that something had changed the stone wall of the stairwell. Words were appearing in the stone, as if chiseled there, each line sinking in a trough.

CHILD EMPEROR. I HAVE CREATED A NICE SURPRISE FOR YOU.

“Melhi, you snake! How did you hack my palace? You’re violating the precepts of engagement.”

THE PRECEPTS ARE ONLY WORDS. SO ARE SCREAMS. I WILL HEAR YOURS FOR THE INSULT YOU GAVE ME.

“My spies already told me of your robot, Melhi. You should stop sending those. They never work properly in my State.” I didn’t mention that I’d been surprised at how well they did work. Far better than Lancing would have worked in his State, where the laws of physics were different.

YOU WILL SCREAM, CHILD. YOU WILL SCREAM.

I entered Lancesight. Here I could see the Grand Aurora even through the stone of the palace—but I stepped backward anyway, into the doorway, where the Aurora’s light could strike me directly. I drew strength into my arms from that warmth, then pushed it from me in a wave. With Lancesight, I could see the core workings of all things, the very motes of energy—or thought, or whatever they were—that made up my reality.

I could also see Melhi’s hack. It manifested as tendrils of red creeping like venom into my palace. Filled with strength, I cut him off, destroying the tendrils. They hadn’t been strong—he couldn’t accomplish a powerful hack without running afoul of the Wode’s protective programs.

The wall’s surface returned to normal. I melted the stone there for good measure, recast it into a new shape, then blinked my eyes back to my ordinary vision.

“Lords, but that man needs to learn to let go of a grudge,” I said. “He’s never going to beat me. Surely he has to see that by now.”

“Indeed,” Besk said. “He does seem to boorishly continue the same stubborn course, without maturity, and without careful consideration of the best path. Wouldn’t you say?”

“That’s quite enough, Besk.”

“I try to be topical when possible, Your Majesty.”

I took a deep, calming breath. It didn’t work. “Fine. Fine, whatever. Pick one of the women from the list. We’ll meet, get this over with, and I’ll return to my life.”

“Which one do I choose?” Besk asked. “The one the Wode thinks is most compatible?”

“Lords, no,” I snapped, walking away. “Pick the one on the bottom of the list. I might as well have an interesting time of it.”

The meeting was going to happen in a Communal State. Any Liveborn could visit one of those, though I never did. Why would I want more reminders of how normal I really was?

Shale didn’t like me leaving our State, of course.

“I don’t understand why I can’t go,” he said, barring my way to the portal. “I go with you to Border States all the time.”

“Those blend seamlessly with our world,” I said. “They adopt our programming. This is different; it’s a place only Liveborn are meant to visit. Even if we were to somehow get you there, you’d be incorporated into the local programming—you’d be given a life, memories, a backstory that fit the Communal State. It would change your personality—essentially killing you.”

“I’ve always been prepared to give my life for you, Kai.”

“Which I’ve always appreciated. If I were in danger, I’d accept your sacrifice. But I won’t have you giving yourself up so . . . so I can go have sex.”

Lords, but that sounded stupid.

“This is my fault, Kai,” Shale said. “If Molly were still alive, they’d never have chosen you. The Wode only picks the unattached.”

“Yes, well, she’s gone.”

And she had been for . . . what, ninety years now? I should have accepted the advances of one of the willing women who surrounded me. I could have had a harem—Lords, I’d had a harem at one point. Before Molly.

“It’s got to be done, Shale,” I said. “Don’t make me Lance you out of the way.”

He reluctantly lowered his arms. “You won’t be able to Lance on the other side, Kai. You’ll be powerless. Just . . . just a regular person . . .”

“Not entirely,” Besk said.

I turned to find the chancellor entering the large portal chamber. He crossed the floor, which sparkled with twisting churnrock—a type of stone that changed colors with pressure. That had been a gift from the Larkians, right after their king had abdicated to me. I’d had it used in the portal room, where I rarely went. The shifting colors unsettled my stomach.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Besk said, handing me a bundle, “I have been researching in the tomes you discovered in the great hoard of the Lichfather. From what I have read of the seer’s visions of other States, I believe that a few of your abilities will function once past the portal. You will pull some of the innate programming from your State with you.”

“Lancing?” I asked, hopeful. “But . . . no, of course not. There won’t be anything to power it.”

“You could bring an Aurorastone,” Shale said.

“It would vanish as I passed through the portal,” I said. “Anything not part of me, or designed for the State I’m going to, won’t make the transition. But that means . . . of course. My mental boosts, they’ll work, won’t they?”

“Yes,” Besk said. “They speed up processors attached directly to your physical brain.”

“Will the Wode stop them?” I asked, thoughtful. “Clip the processors, stunt my thoughts back to a normal rate?”

“I can’t determine if they will or not,” Besk said. “I don’t think the boosts are given out in the State you are visiting, but bringing them in from the outside might be acceptable. I would limit their use, in case it alerts the Wode to what you are doing.”

“What about my healing boosts?”

“Again, I’m not certain, Your Majesty,” Besk said. “They seem more likely to work. The Communal States are designed to protect the safety of Liveborn, after all.”

I nodded, shifting to Lancesight. Looking internally, I set my mental boosts—which would make everything around me seem to slow—to automatically engage if an explosion happened near me, or if my skin were broken.

“I still don’t like this,” Shale said. “Healing boosts aren’t perfect. If someone in there manages to kill you, you’ll . . .”

I would become brain-dead. Part of XinWey’s Doctrine. A person needed to experience real danger or they would never find joy in excelling. There had to be a risk of failure, the chance to die.

Of course, I wouldn’t simply die from a random fall down the stairs. I was far too important. However, I would eventually die of very old age—I was still hundreds of years from that—and, more importantly, I could be killed, particularly if I were attacked by another Liveborn. Even a Simulated Entity like Shale or Besk could kill me if the situation were right.

Well, I’d just have to be careful. “I assume this is State-appropriate clothing?” I asked, holding up the bundle.

Besk nodded. “It will be placed upon you, pressed and neat, as you pass through the portal. There’s also a State-appropriate weapon, as requested.”

“Thanks.”

“It won’t do anything, my lord. Communal States are not intended to be dangerous, and this one is very well monitored. I suspect that your weapon won’t even fire unless the Wode specifically allows it.”

“I’ll feel better having it,” I said. “Never go on a date unarmed.” Words of wisdom from my father. Well, my foster father. I was an orphan, of course. The best kings always are.

“I will remain in contact, my lord,” Besk said. “Direct mental links are allowed to Liveborn visiting this Communal State.”

“Excellent,” I said, taking a deep breath. I tucked the bundle under my arm, then—with no other good reasons to delay—stepped into the portal.

I passed through a flash of light, then stepped out of a metal door. When I looked back, it appeared that I’d come out of a strange, tubular contraption on wheels. It was like a large number of carriages hooked together, each with its own doors and windows.

It is called a train, my lord, Besk noted to me. I’ve been reading about them. Quite fascinating. You might be able to replicate them with Lancing mechanics. The people would be pleased to have a faster method of travel between cities.

Have the Grand Librarian take notes of their descriptions, I sent back to him. I’ll examine the idea when I return.

The sky was dark, and I found myself on a platform at the edge of a strange city. The buildings were constructed as rectangular boxes rising high into the sky, and lights twinkled in many of their windows. The sky was overcast, and the city looked very busy despite the apparently late hour.

I wore muted clothing. Trousers, black shoes that looked horribly impractical, white shirt, some kind of thin scarf tied around my neck, and a jacket. It all fit snugly and wasn’t nearly as heavy as the clothing I was used to. It pulled at me in strange places, and the collar was buttoned too close to my neck for comfort.

I had an odd, wide-brimmed hat on my head in place of my crown. I took that off and tossed it away. Covering my regal hair felt like a shame. Around me, people moved out of the train I had exited. The men wore clothing similar to my own, all in the same hats with the wide brims. None of them had beards, which made me feel more distinctive.

This city is named Maltese, Besk sent. Though most people just call the State that as well, rather than using its official designation as Nightingale124. The local weapon is stored under your arm in a special hidden sheath. It’s known as a handgun, and works by pointing the tube toward your enemy and pulling the trigger underneath.

Like a crossbow?

Yes, my lord. My research says they’re difficult to aim properly. This State does not have symbiont aiming modifications.

Lovely, I sent, walking off the platform. Where do I go?

Straight down the street ahead. Look for a tall, blue-lit building and speak your name to the doorman. You have a reservation.

I followed the instructions, entering a wide street populated by self-driving metal carriages. I had something similar working in most of my cities, though mine were connected to Aurorastone deposits inserted into the roads.

The air smelled faintly of rain, and the ground was damp. Besk rattled off some information he’d found about Maltese in one of our tomes. This State was set perpetually at night in a highly populated city that was loosely based off what the book described as, “western cultures in early twentieth-century Earth.” Whatever that was. Rain came often, but never in more than a drizzle.

I nodded, curious, listening to the sounds of the city as I walked. This State wasn’t necessarily louder than my own—Alornia could be a clamorous place—but the sounds were different, alien. The carriages made garish honks at one another, and they growled like beasts. Perhaps they contained some kind of living animal that powered them.

A street performer I passed was playing a loud brass horn—as if sounding the call to war, though the song had a slur to it, almost as if the music itself were drunken. I was glad Simulated Entities like my subjects couldn’t travel to States like this; I’d hate for the street performers back home to visit here and realize how effective a horn like that was at carrying over a crowd.

And a chatty crowd it was, all bundled up in their too-stiff clothing as they strolled the streets. I fell in behind a group of men and women as I made my way toward the restaurant, listening to them prattle about local politics.

Elections? I asked Besk.

Indeed, he said. Every two years, the local population chooses a new Liveborn to rule.

That’s silly, I sent back. Many of my subject kingdoms had elections for their officials, though I—of course—could intervene and appoint someone if the masses acted foolishly. Who lets Machineborn choose what their Liveborn do? And besides, what can a king accomplish during such a short reign?

It is likely just a formal title, Your Majesty, Besk sent back. There are no Liveborn native to this State; only outside visitors like yourself are eligible to rule. One of the reasons to visit appears to be the draw of vying against other Liveborn for dominance. Though, since outside armies are forbidden, one must use local Machineborn to achieve one’s goals. He hesitated. You might find it a challenge.

Hardly, I thought back with a sniff. If the title changes so frequently, there can’t be any real power to it. I have no intention of getting involved. In fact, the entire nature of this State seemed to highlight that political power was just an illusion provided to engage and excite us Liveborn.

I followed Besk’s directions toward a particular building, tall and rectangular. The restaurant was apparently near the top. I approached, but then pulled up short. What was that series of popping bangs sounding to my right?

The people ahead of me—who were likely Simulated Entities, judging by their conversation—stopped as well, but then just continued on down the street.

What are those bangs, Besk?

Handgun fire, he sent back.

I hesitated for a moment, then took off at a run toward the sounds.

No intention of getting involved, Your Majesty? Besk asked, sounding amused.

Shut up.

I prepared my mental boosts as I drew near. I didn’t let them engage at the sounds; I needed to hold them in reserve, in case using them drew the Wode’s attention. But I did want to be ready.

I crossed two of this State’s too-smooth stone streets, then entered a smaller roadway where a group of men in hats was advancing on a young woman wearing trousers and a jacket. She fired a small handgun at her attackers desperately from within the faint cover of a recessed doorway, the door at her back apparently locked. Her only companion was another woman who lay splayed facedown on the street, golden hair fanned out around her head, blood staining the back of her dress.