Death Weavers (52 page)

“Ramarro,” Cole said.

Ramarro grinned. “That's right. Please, sit down.”

Cole sat on the unoccupied stone chair. It was warmer than he had expected but not particularly comfortable.

“We met briefly,” Ramarro said.

“When I was under the First Castle,” Cole said.

“You're worried about your thoughts,” Ramarro said. “You're concerned you may reveal something to me. Don't fret. I already know everything in your memories. You unveiled your history by trespassing here. You suspect I'm bluffing. I'm not. I know about Hunter, and Jenna, your family in Arizona, the day you lost your first tooth, your conversation with Dandalus, your hopes of keeping me trapped here—everything. Which means you can relax.”

“I don't feel very relaxed,” Cole said.

“I suppose not. Is there any emotion so terrible as suspense? You and your friends are completely in my power. I can do whatever I choose with you. For the moment I have not harmed any of you. But I could do so many things. Your imagination can hardly begin to envision the horrors that might await. This must produce an awful suspense.”

“What are you going to do with us?” Cole asked.

“What I do depends entirely on you, Cole.”

“Why?”

“It depends on what you're willing to accept,” Ramarro clarified. “You possess an intriguing power. I would rather recruit you than destroy you. Same with your friends. But if you insist on resistance, my retribution will be swift.”

“You're trying to take over the world,” Cole said.

“I have succeeded,” Ramarro clarified. “The echolands and the Outskirts are now mine to claim. You furnished the key to my prison.”

“What do you mean?”

“Destiny's power,” Ramarro said. “Without it, I would eventually have found another way. With it, I am free. Her power will permit me to return to the physical Outskirts. Once there, my portion of the Founding Stone will allow me to exit this prison.”

“Dandalus was right,” Cole said. “You have a piece of the Founding Stone.”

Ramarro's grin made Cole think of a skull. “Your memories are a treasure box of information. So many delicious conversations! Dandalus trapped me here, you know. Gwendolyn as well. She Who Stands at the Summit. I had not confirmed that they remained in the echolands. Thank you.”

Cole broke eye contact with Ramarro. What had he done? Would there be grave repercussions for revealing them to Ramarro? How bad would it be?

“Don't worry, Cole,” Ramarro said. “Both of them expected me to see your mind. They knew I would learn about them through you. I'm sure Dandalus told you he could destroy the Outskirts and sweep the echolands bare in a desperate attempt to intimidate me.”

“Did it work?” Cole asked.

“Dandalus can throw nothing at me that I cannot counter,” Ramarro said. “He could probably damage or destroy the Outskirts. I'll believe that much. It's a fragile world. He might even be able to flush all life from the echolands. But not if I resist him. Not if I stop him. Even if I'm wrong, he certainly lacks the power to remove
me
from the echolands. If he had the strength for that, he would have done so long ago. If Dandalus works some unknowable form of doomsday shaping that I can't counter, if he unmakes the Outskirts and departs with all life, and if I am all that remains, so be it. I will have indirectly destroyed all who opposed me, and I will still remake the echolands as I desire and repopulate it at my leisure.”

“What about Trillian?” Cole wondered.

Ramarro gave a nod. “You have traveled far and wide, Cole. You have met most of the key players in this game. Dandalus can remove Trillian no more than he can remove me. If Dandalus destroyed everything he could, the two torivors would remain. Perhaps Dandalus hopes the prospect of confronting another of my kind would intimidate me. I've never shied away from a fight, Cole. I have every reason to believe that I could either overpower or recruit Trillian. In fact, if he so desired, I might even let him go home.”

“Why don't
you
go home?” Cole asked. “What's the point of taking over the echolands?”

Ramarro's eyes flashed. “At first it was simply for experience. Now revenge is in the mix. How can I explain it? Imagine you went to live in a house full of mice. And somehow, against all odds, the mice imprisoned you and took over the house. How would you feel?”

“Stupid.”

Cole saw a flicker of anger in Ramarro's eyes. “Yes, I suppose so. And frustrated? And wrongfully stripped of your natural right to govern the house? You would sit and watch inferior beings control what should have been yours. If some of the mice decided to cooperate, you might be willing to share the house with them, so long as they never again forgot their place. Especially if some of the mice had qualities that made them more interesting than their more common brethren. You would need to teach the rest a lesson.”

“But what if some old shaper got rid of all the furniture and all the mice?” Cole asked.

“You would have the satisfaction of knowing the mice had been exterminated,” Ramarro said. “And the prospect of doing whatever you chose with the house. You could refurnish it however best suited your taste, and repopulate it with mice if you so desired.”

“I'm an interesting mouse?” Cole asked.

“More than most,” Ramarro said. “You killed Sando, for example.”

“That makes me interesting?”

“Sando was very effective. He commanded my servants in the echolands, just as Owandell oversees my minions in the Outskirts. If Owandell has been my right hand, Sando was my left.”

“And I killed him. Doesn't that make you angry?”

“It makes me curious. Sando was cunning and powerful. You lack his experience, and yet you bested him. I prefer to work with the best. Which is why I now invite you to join the winning side.”

“As your servant,” Cole said.

“You're a human, not a torivor,” Ramarro said. “Would you make a mouse your equal?”

“I wouldn't want to live in a house full of mice,” Cole said. “I'd prefer other people.”

Ramarro stared at him. “I have lived among my kind forever. I departed in the spirit of exploration. It was time for something new. And humans hold more charm than mice. I intend to control this world until I tire of the experience.”

“I have a feeling you're not telling me everything,” Cole said.

Ramarro laughed. “Then trust your feelings. Would you tell everything to a mouse? If a scientist had experiments in mind, would he confide fully in his lab rats? The portion I have told you is all true. Your choice is simple. You can join me, or you can watch helplessly as I do whatever I choose with you and your friends.”

“If I join you, won't I be just as helpless?” Cole asked.

“You'll be helpless either way,” Ramarro said. “But by siding with me you will enjoy preferential treatment. When the outcome is certain, why not join the victors? Defy me and you will wish you had stayed in the slipstream and coasted to your next phase of existence.”

“What about the others?” Cole asked.

“They will have their own choices to make,” Ramarro said. “But if they resist, and you join me, I may show them mercy.”

“What would mercy look like?”

“I may send some to the Other,” Ramarro said. “I may borrow aspects of their shaping power without torturing them. But I make no promises. I will do according to my pleasure. This is not a negotiation. Either pledge to serve me, or refuse and face my wrath.”

“Don't you already know how I'm going to answer?” Cole asked.

“Not for certain,” Ramarro said. “I know how you intend to answer. I also know how you should answer. Humans are so inconsistent that although I could make a very educated guess, I can't be sure about the outcome until the choice is made. You want to deny me. But it would be better for you and your friends if you change your mind. I would prefer it as well. I would rather not torment and destroy some of the most engaging mice. You could pursue a long, appealing life, Cole. I can unlock abilities in you and your friends that you could never achieve alone.”

“Can you send me home?” Cole asked.

“I know of this desire,” Ramarro said. “I would have to study the matter after my release. I expect that I could return you to Arizona, along with those friends who came here from your world. Would I? Perhaps one day as a reward for years of loyal service. There is also a chance you would figure out how to do it on your own while serving me. I will make no promises.”

“Because you can't lie,” Cole said. “And you won't send us home.”

“That could be part of the reason,” Ramarro said. “I find another more compelling. I don't bargain with vermin. The choice is before you. I must have an answer. The fate of many depend on your decision. Be wise.”

“I'm trying,” Cole said. He squirmed on the stone chair. He wanted his reply to come easily. He wanted to turn down Ramarro. Cole hated that he was hesitating. He could feel the finality of this decision. Was he ready to die? To condemn his friends to die? Was he ready to let Ramarro strip his power and shape it into a monster? Was he ready to spend eons imprisoned? Was he ready for long ages of torture? Could he condemn his friends to that fate?

Then again, would he really be condemning his friends? Wasn't it still their choice to make? And hadn't they all made this choice before, in different ways? What would Jace say to this offer? Harvan? Honor? Would they even pause? Wouldn't they have already shot him down? Just by coming here, hadn't they committed to stand against Ramarro?

In one way or another, Cole had been making this decision ever since he came to the Outskirts. Had he been content as a slave, or had he risked everything for the chance to escape? Had he stood against monsters that should have defeated him? Had he risked his life for his friends? Had he sometimes even risked fates worse than death, like when he fought Morgassa, or when he came to the echolands in the first place?

Cole had fought all along to protect his freedom and to free his friends. Would he now surrender that freedom voluntarily? Just because his enemy was calm, eloquent, and powerful, would Cole ignore that he was evil? Would he abandon his beliefs? If he served Ramarro, who would he become? He would end up like Owandell. Or worse. How many people would he harm?

The words Dandalus had shared returned to Cole. If the whole meaning and purpose of life hinged on what he chose to love and who he chose to become, the answer became clear. His heart already knew he should deny Ramarro, and now his mind was fully catching up.

“Dandalus planted those thoughts so you would choose this way,” Ramarro warned.

“Who is trying to save this world, and who is trying to destroy it?” Cole replied. “Who is protecting young girls, and who is stealing their powers? I admire Dandalus! I'd much rather obey his ideas than yours.”

“So be it, little fool,” Ramarro said. “Lamentable but not unexpected. I suppose it is—”

Cole wasn't listening. He had focused on the stone chair where Ramarro sat. He connected to it and heaved his power into it along with an avalanche of angry thoughts.

The chair exploded into fragments.

Howling, Ramarro twisted, landing on all fours. He glared at Cole, a fathomless rage behind his eyes, furious music blaring.

Standing, Cole opened the shutter of the Weaver's Beacon and pushed with everything he had—all the defiance, all the hope, all the protectiveness, all the power. The lantern went supernova, casting a brilliant glare across the misty landscape. Some of the energy from the beacon fed back into Cole, and he increased his output. He kept one hand on the shutter, holding it open in case unseen forces tried to close it again.

The lantern was too bright. He couldn't see anything.

Had Dandalus deliberately warned him about this too? How much of this showdown had Dandalus anticipated?

The light blinded Cole, but he remained unfrozen. Nobody was attacking him. He could no longer hear the music of Ramarro's anger—or any music, for that matter.

Cole didn't want to dim the beacon too much, but he eased back on his effort enough to see.

The misty landscape was gone. The Fallen Temple looked as it had when they had first entered it. Cole stood beneath an eerie sky on a glossy tile floor surrounded by pillars. An altar sat directly ahead of him. He had moved forward from Thunder and his companions, who all remained frozen.

“You made me an offer!” Cole called. “Here is mine. Give me Mira, Tessa, and Durny. Let us depart in peace, and I won't rip this place to pieces.”

“You have chosen to endure my wrath,” Ramarro said, his disembodied voice falling from the sky and rising from the ground.

“Bring it on,” Cole replied.

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