Page 3332

“And what of your plans?” asked Rasalased. “You wished to meet a Primordial, no? What will you do now that you have accomplished your goal?”

Morgunov tittered. “Still not sure I believe that I’ve really accomplished it. I need some type of confirmation that your big sis is really one of ‘em. Do either of you have a means of proving it?”

“If I did,” said the sister, “why would I bother providing it? Your satisfaction makes no difference to me.”

“Aw, c’mon. Don’t be stingy, now. You want the little Lion to keep on breathin’, don’tcha? I’d say that’s plenty reason to be cooperative.”

“You should be more concerned about your own breathing,” she said. “You act like you have full control over your circumstances, when you do not.”

Aha. Finally, they were getting down to it. Morgunov had been wondering when they would start to bare their fangs.

Since the beginning of the conversation, he’d been sending thoughts to his Roberts. He had hundreds of them scattered around the compound, patrolling the grounds, feeding him information via the network of biochips in his brain.

He’d been making more of the Roberts close in, surrounding the forge’s chamber. By now, they were above, below, and all around, waiting to break through the ceiling, floors, and walls the instant he told them to.

“Well, if you’re gonna talk big, I hope you’ve got some means of backing it up,” said Morgunov. “I mean, I’ve allowed you to wrap yourself around me like an angry, little rope via these tattoos, so c’mon. If you think can do somethin’ to me, then do somethin’ already!”

“Let us not be--” tried Rasalased.

The world went white.

Crushing pressure arrived, all over his body but especially on his head. He could feel the intent behind. The desire to render him to dust. To put him in his place.

And it certainly hurt. Morgunov could not deny that. He sensed Bool wanting to numb his body, but he stayed the reaper’s hand. Eheh. Just because he’d been letting the reaper pitch in for a change didn’t meant that he was about to allow Bool to do whatever he wanted.

Because pain was an interesting thing. He didn’t get to feel it very often, anymore. There’d been a time, of course, when he’d greatly feared pain and tried to avoid at all costs. But over the years, as he’d aged and aged, as boredom had started to become his fiercest enemy, he’d developed a certain nostalgic fondness for pain.

Need some extra time again

Yeah, a little more, please. Thanks.

Page 3331

It was supposed to be both the source and ultimate destination of all souls and ardor, which may have been one and the same thing. The Current was theorized to connect countless realms where life existed--and more. Many scholars throughout history believed that, wherever a reaper ferried a deceased soul to, the Current would eventually carry that same soul--or the energy that composed that soul, perhaps--back into this world.

An eternally recurring flow of imaginary power. Unfathomable in its strength and potential.

Morgunov, therefore, understood what Rasalased was getting at.

The ancient mythical beasts of the Sandlords could theoretically reside within a plane of nonexistence. And someone, therefore, might be able to ride the Infinite Current to such a place and meet or otherwise bear witness to them.

A truly ludicrous plan, filled with absurd danger. The Infinite Current, if it did indeed exist, would not be some leisurely route through scenic territory. The Current was supposed to be a force of literally unparalleled soul power and ardor. To endure through the Current, having your own soul constantly pummeled by such a force, while also attempting to guide your own path through it...?

Morgunov was not sure he could imagine a more impossible feat.

But perhaps that impossibility was precisely what made the plan worthy of a god’s time.

He had to learn more.

“What do you want with the arasaba, exactly?” asked Morgunov.

“I believe they may be the progenitors of my kin,” said Rasalased. “And if so, then I must learn more of them.”

“Ahhh,” said Morgunov. “You want their power.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

The emperor snorted, then laughed. “Yes, I’m sure your interest in them is purely academic. Just like me!”

“If the arasaba hold answers regarding the origins of my kin, then they may also hold answers regarding the origins of all mankind.”

Morgunov bobbed his head. “Could be. But is that really so mysterious to you? If your surly sister here is truly a Primordial like she claims, then she should have plenty of juicy answers about all sorts of things, no?”

“Even if that were so,” said Rasalased, “I would not want her to provide them. There comes a point where one should not rely on the knowledge and experiences of another in order to continue growing. One must seek the truth for oneself.”

At that, Morgunov couldn’t help smiling. “A man after my own heart.”