67. THE MAD WIZARD

Thurvishar’s story

Grizzst’s Tower

Three hundred and seventeen bottles of rare alcohol later

Thurvishar thought Grizzst took the news rather well, all things considered.

“Is he going to stop smashing up his own tower anytime soon?” Senera asked.

Thurvishar grimaced. He supposed “taking it well for Grizzst” and “taking it well” might be considered two different things. “We may want to revisit this conversation in a few hours,” he suggested.

“Not happening,” Senera said. “The rest of the group did what they were supposed to while we were trying to contact Tyentso. A few interesting twists, but everything worked out. That means we need to head back.”

That meant Terindel had been recovered and hopefully, with Xivan’s help, was being Returned.

“We’ll talk about that with Grizzst as soon as he’s calm enough,” Thurvishar said. He sat down on a rock across from Senera. They were outside. Rainbow Lake was spectacularly beautiful. It wasn’t exactly a hardship, even if the smell of smoke in the air was a constant reminder of what they’d lost. “We should figure out where we might take shelter next. I don’t believe the vané are terribly enthusiastic to let us permanently move in to the Mother of Trees, even if we are friends with their king. We’re going to need a place…” He shook his head. “I suppose Grizzst will want to rebuild.”

“Will we have time?” Senera asked. “Apologies, I made that sound like a question, didn’t I? You and I both know we don’t have time. Hopefully, if Talea thinks of me fondly, Relos Var will be too busy doing whatever terrible things Relos Var is planning to do to think that he needs to come back to Rainbow Lake and finish the job. And if he does have time to do that, then we’ve clearly failed to keep him sufficiently distracted.” She stared down at her hands. “Don’t think I’m not still going to take you up on that offer of stealing the Academy library when this is all over, though. I think that’s a fine idea. Should have done it years ago.”

“Oh, I just assumed we were still doing that,” Thurvishar said gently. He reached over and pulled a single errant lock of Senera’s hair away from her face. She caught his hand, closed her fingers over his. They locked stares.

He had always thought she was beautiful. From the moment he first saw her, paper white and dressed in silver, trying to embrace winter, ice, and unfeeling cold with all her might so she could deny all the colors that ran through her soul. Like trying to splash white paint over a complicated, brilliant portrait so she could draw something simpler and neater. Easier to recognize, but far less true.

“I don’t deserve this.” Senera wasn’t talking about a burning tower.

“By coincidence, neither do I,” Thurvishar said, smiling. Certainly, he had no claim on sainthood. He’d have nightmares for the rest of his life from some of the things Gadrith D’Lorus had made him do. Perhaps surviving was no crime, but that didn’t make it a heroic act.

She laughed unhappily. “You know what I’ve done. You shouldn’t care about me.”

He nodded. Sadly, he knew every bit as well as she did, possibly even better given how many of her memories she’d repressed. “I do know, yes. And I know you will regret what you’ve done for the rest of your life.”

Senera’s eyes turned sharp and wet. “But I don’t. That’s the thing you need to understand. Don’t try to turn me into something I’m not. I don’t regret—” She choked on the words.

Thurvishar knew it would be easier if he could speak directly to her mind, but he also knew that wasn’t going to happen. It was one thing to learn that you had the power to read minds; quite another to allow someone inside of your own. Especially when you cared how they might judge what they saw.

“You’ve told yourself that for years, Senera,” Thurvishar said. “And you almost believe it. But I think you know better. Relos Var got hold of you when you were a child, Senera. If he groomed Qown, it was no more than what he did to you.”

Her face looked haunted. “Qown hasn’t killed anyone. I can’t say the same.”

Thurvishar nodded. “I’m not saying that you’re pardoned for all crimes, but let’s acknowledge that you were exploited. You and Teraeth have a lot in common, you know. Both taken in by parental figures and turned into weapons, both told that your sins were justifiable because the cause was righteous. Both lied to about so many things.”

She gave him a narrow look out of the corner of her eyes. “And you were different?”

Thurvishar shrugged. “Gadrith never pretended to be righteous. And he didn’t need me to believe I was doing the right thing; I was gaeshed.” He paused. “He took no small amount of pleasure in the knowledge that I found what he made me do morally repugnant.”

“Never thought I’d envy a gaeshed man,” she admitted, “but I find myself envying the ability to say, ‘I had no choice but to follow his orders.’”

“Kihrin’s fond of reminding me that we always have a choice.”

Senera snorted. “Kihrin’s problem is that he’s far too willing to throw himself on the fire. But even knowing what I do, there’s a part of me that doesn’t think I was wrong, just following the wrong person.” She paused. “Which is a problem, because I don’t know who the right person would be. Sometimes when I look at you, I wonder—”

“No. Veils no. Don’t try to swap Relos Var for me. I’m not the right person. The right person doesn’t exist.” When Senera gave him an annoyed look, he elaborated, “It’s true. The Guardians weren’t bad people. But at some point, the reasons for their duty became the justifications for their authority. The excuse for why they had to stay in power. Honestly, the worst mistake Grizzst ever made in his whole existence was convincing the Guardians to call themselves gods. He thought it was hilarious.” He laced his fingers through hers. “But I think you know that trying to tear them down using the bodies of the people they were already stepping on isn’t any better. And you can’t tell yourself that it’s justified just because you’re ridding the world of tyrants.”

“Ridding the world of tyrants is a good thing, though. You know that’s a good thing.” Senera sounded so young in that moment. So lost.

“Power is a mountain, Senera. A mountain that humanity climbs to feel safe or give our lives meaning or, I don’t know, just bolster our self-esteem. People will never stop climbing, never stop trying to be the one who reaches the top. Never stop trying to make sure that no one else can climb up there and throw them rolling back down. And yet, someone always does. I’m not saying it’s wrong to fight them, but keep doing it the way you are, and the inevitable result is that you’re going to look down one day and realize the person at the top of the mountain is you. And then you’ll have to ask yourself if all the bodies you climbed over to get there were justified. If all the deaths were worth it. If the answer is yes, then you’ll have simply replaced what you were fighting. And if the answer is no, then what the hell were you even doing?”

She closed her eyes and put her hand to her mouth. He watched as tears fell in glistening trails down her cheeks. Finally he couldn’t stand it anymore, and he smoothed the tears from her face with his fingers.

“You know this is the part where you should kiss her, right?” Grizzst said.

Senera’s eyes flashed fire as she whirled to face the wizard. “You know this is the part where you should find out if you can go fuck yourself, right?”

“Oh, I would if I could, beautiful, believe me…” The armor shook his head. “Never thought I’d miss being able to shit.”

Senera glanced at Thurvishar. “Are we sure we need him?”

Thurvishar sighed. “We might? Best to play it safe.”

“Hey, fuck you too, kid,” Grizzst snapped.

Thurvishar ignored the insult. That was just a friendly greeting based on Grizzst’s normal behavior. “I’d ask you if it’s really necessary for you to be so disgusting, but I already know the answer. Grizzst, I haven’t needed advice on romance from you for an entire lifetime. If and when Senera decides that she would like to kiss me, that will be entirely up to her. And if she never does, that’s fine too.”

Grizzst didn’t reply for a few dozen seconds, although Thurvishar found it almost hilarious how expressive he was starting to find a faceless suit of armor. Somehow, the way Grizzst was tilting his head managed to perfectly convey “what the fuck” as a sentiment.

“Can we skip all this?” Senera snapped. “Because what we should be doing is returning to the Manol so we can talk with the others, not least of which because it seems someone near Empress Tyentso has Warmonger, we haven’t managed to track her down yet, and we were really hoping you might have some idea how to help with both problems.”1

“What? Warmonger?” Grizzst straightened. “Why didn’t you say something!”

“Oh, someone was too busy smashing all his favorite alcohol, presumably under the idea that if he can’t enjoy impossibly old, priceless liquor, no one else can either.”

Grizzst scoffed. “You’re quite a bitch, you know that?”

Senera stared at the man flatly. “And you are a horrible, disgusting, egocentric cad who has no doubt been improved by your transition into a walking piece of metal, because at least now no one will care that you never bathe. We didn’t center our plans around you, and frankly, had we known you’d found a way to survive, we still wouldn’t have, because of the many adjectives that have ever been used to describe you over the years, not once have any of those words included stable, reliable, or trustworthy. So if you would like to return with us to the Manol where the vané might possibly be persuaded to return you to a body capable of fulfilling your fervent desire for bowel movements, I suggest you make yourself useful and try to fucking keep up!”

With that, she stalked angrily away from them, although where she could possibly go without teleporting was somewhat limited.

For a moment, neither of the two men said a word.

Then Grizzst laughed. “Oh, I really like her.”

“Yes,” Thurvishar said. “Me too.”