Calamity (Reckoners, #3)

I continued to the steps, my feet bare on the saltstone floor. We had to be very careful with water; spill it, and the ground started to rub off on your feet. Even as it was, I woke up in the mornings with salt crust on my legs. Building a city out of something that could dissolve was decidedly worse than building one out of steel. Fortunately I didn’t much notice the smell any longer, and even the dryness was starting to feel normal.

I found Abraham on the middle floor, in the kitchen. He was bathed in the light of his mobile, the rtich on his hands and a large globe of mercury hovering in front of him. The mercury certainly had an otherworldly cast: perfectly reflective, it undulated as Abraham moved his hands around it. He drew his palms apart, which caused the large globe of mercury to elongate like a loaf of French bread. The way reflections distorted and shifted on its mirrored surface made me imagine it was showing us a different, distorted world.

“We must be careful,” Abraham said softly. “I think I’ve learned to contain the fumes this metal releases, but perhaps it would be wise for me to find another place to practice.”

“I don’t like splitting us up,” I said, getting myself a cup of water from the large plastic cooler we kept on the counter.

Abraham spread his palm out, and the mercury made a disc in front of him, like a wide plate—or a shield. “It is marvelous,” he said. “It conforms perfectly to my commands. And look at this.”

He brought the disc down, flat portion facing the ground, then hesitantly stepped onto it. It held him.

“Sparks,” I said. “You can fly.”

“Not exactly,” Abraham said. “I cannot move it far while I’m standing on it, and it needs to be nearby for me to manipulate it. But watch this.”

The disc of mercury rippled, and a piece of it siphoned off, forming steps in front of Abraham. Very thin, very narrow, reflective metal steps. He was able to walk up them, stooping down as he got closer and closer to the ceiling.

“This will be of great use against Prof,” Abraham said. “It is very strong. Perhaps I could use it to counteract his forcefields.”

“Yeah.”

Abraham glanced at me. “Not enthusiastic?”

“Just distracted. Is Larcener still awake down there?”

“Last I checked,” Abraham said. “He does not seem to sleep.”

We’d discussed what to do with him, but had come to no conclusions. So far though, he hadn’t posed much of a threat.

“Where’s Megan?” I asked.

“Haven’t seen her.”

That was odd. If she’d left, she would have had to pass this way—and I hadn’t seen her on the top floor, which was pretty small. Maybe Abraham hadn’t noticed her slipping by.

He continued to work with the rtich, climbing down his steps and creating other shapes. Watching him was hard, but mainly for juvenile reasons. We’d all agreed that Abraham should practice with the device, with Cody or Mizzy as backup. Abraham was our primary point man now.

But sparks, that device looked cool. Hopefully it would survive our activities here. Once we had Prof and Tia back, I could return to running point, where I belonged.

I left Abraham and walked down to the bottom floor to check on Larcener. I stopped in the doorway to his room.

Wow.

The once-bare walls were now draped with soft red velvet. A set of lanterns glowed on mahogany tables. Larcener lay on a couch as elegant as any we’d had in the Babilar hideout, wearing a pair of large headphones, with his eyes closed. I couldn’t hear what, if anything, he was listening to—the headphones were likely connected wirelessly to a mobile.

I stepped into the room. Sparks, it seemed way larger than it had before. I paced it off, and found that it was bigger.

Spatial distortion, I thought, adding that to his list of powers. Calamity, that was an incredible power. I’d only heard rumors about Epics having it. And his ability to materialize objects from thin air…

“You could beat him,” I said.

Larcener said nothing, remaining on his couch, not opening his eyes.

“Larcener,” I said, more loudly.

He started, then ripped off his headphones and shot me a glare. “What?”

“You could beat him,” I repeated. “Prof…if you were to face him, you might be able to win. I know you have multiple prime invincibilities. Add on top of those the ability to create anything, to distort space…you could beat him.”

“Of course I couldn’t. Why do you think I’m here with you useless idiots?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“I don’t fight,” Larcener said, moving to put his headphones back on. “I’m not allowed.”

“By who?”

“By myself. Let others do the fighting. My place is to observe. Even ruling this city is probably inappropriate for me.”

People, including me, tended to work under the assumption that all Epics were essentially the same: selfish, destructive, narcissistic. But while they did share these traits, they also had their own individual levels of strangeness. Obliteration quoted scripture and sought—it seemed—to destroy all life on the planet. Regalia channeled her darkness toward greater and greater schemes. Nightwielder, in Newcago, insisted on working through lesser intermediaries.