Thresholder

Nothing came of the fight in the clinic, at least so far as Perry and Flora could see. Something had changed, certainly, but no one brought the issue before the Jade Council, not of the experiments with blood, nor of the newly-minted osten. It did make the papers, but was written off as nothing more than a sign of turbulent times, wrapped up in the narrative of an end to the Century of Progress. Cormorant Wesley going missing was no longer the top story, but it was still on the front page, and the newspapers would take any chance to tie in other happenings with Wesley’s bloody disappearance.

Eleven days after Perry's last fight with Cosme, the radio lit up. Unlike the previous times, this wasn’t the beeping of wireless telegraphy nor the coded messages from before. Instead, it was a voice, warbling and with a hiss of static, but clear enough to make out the words, especially with Marchand’s assistance.

“I lived, in case you were wondering,” said Cosme’s voice. “I don’t know whether you’ll get this, but I imagine that you have better technology than I do, perhaps far better depending on what’s in that suit of yours. I imagine if you can hear this, you’ll come running, but I should let you know that you shouldn’t bother. I’m not anywhere near the transmitter this time. It was too big of a coincidence that you came to the manor at the same time we got working wireless, I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.”

Perry was, in fact, going to go to the transmitter, and Cosme assuring him that it was a waste of time did nothing to change that.

“I think thresholders should chat more often,” said Cosme. “We could share resources and come off better for it. Obviously you don’t want to tell me about other worlds, your experiences, what abilities you have, or anything like that. You don’t want to give up your advantages. We could talk about other things though, those that aren’t going to be useful for the current fight. Obviously one of us is going to die here, or at least be beaten to within an inch of his life, but the entire idea of trade is that both parties come off better for it.”

It was an unfortunately clear day, which meant that there was no fog to use for cover. Perry hadn’t been wearing the armor when Marchand had alerted him, and it was a choice between hastily donning it — and it was a process that really couldn’t be done hastily — or going without. Without the armor though, Perry would have only the earpiece, and if he had to go further than its range, he wouldn’t be able to listen. In a fight without the armor, he didn’t like his odds.

“I’ll start, of course, as a show of goodwill. I’m hoping you have the capacity to transmit. I’m not at the transmitter, but I’ll be listening on the same frequency, so hopefully I should be able to hear you.” Cosme cleared his throat. “This message will repeat, just in case you miss the first time.”

Perry stilled himself. If the message would repeat, that meant that it was a recording, and that meant that Cosme really wasn’t at the transmitter. Still, it needed to be investigated, to find some clue as to Cosme’s whereabouts. Perry decided that he had some time, and listened more intently, focusing on the words rather than the implication of the message itself.

“Here’s what I’ve figured out so far, after ten cycles,” said Cosme. “We arrive, we fight, someone loses badly enough, and then we leave, one person the victor, the other the loser. There are some constants, and some things that aren’t constant, and I’m not entirely sure which is which. I’m going to go through some of the assumptions and conclusions now, in the hopes that you send a message back to me. It costs you nothing, and like you, I might try to find the source of the signal. You could set up a trap for me, as I assume you’re thinking this is a trap for you.”

Perry considered that. He did think that it was a trap, but not just because it was a transmission whose source he could find. This sort of message was a chance to lay other traps, traps that were hidden within its content. Cosme had more information, had been through more worlds — if he was telling the truth about that — and could lie without Perry being able to check. Everything Cosme said had to be taken with a grain of salt.

“Ten worlds, and I’ve always known the language,” said Cosme. “I’m bilingual, English and Cannalo. Sometimes it’s one, sometimes it’s the other. I’m worse with Cannalo, which makes it harder. Sometimes I’ve got an accent, other times I don’t. My opponent also speaks the language, whatever is dominant in the area we come into.”

Cosme was monologuing, but it reminded Perry of innumerable conversations he’d had with Richter. They’d both been incredibly enthused by the idea of other worlds, and had spun up all kinds of theories about how it had been possible and what it meant. The sample size had been small then, just two, Earth and Richter’s world, which was also called Earth. Obviously there couldn’t be just two worlds, two implied more than two, but their ideas had been that all these other worlds were divergent timelines or something like that. Even once Mordant had shown up, they’d been thinking within the paradigms of alternate timelines, as much as Mordant’s lightning powers made no particular physical sense.

Then he’d been in a land of dragons and magic, and all that thinking had gone out the window. He’d been too distraught about Richter’s passing to spend too much time trying to come up with other hypotheses, and it didn’t seem like it would actually help him. People spoke English. So what? He’d been more concerned with the practicalities, the Adversary, the Ally, the Exit, much more than he’d wanted to spend time on the theology of it all.

“We don’t come in at the same time,” said Cosme, voice crackling. “I think there might be as much as a month between when the two parties arrive. I’m pretty sure that you came in later than I did, possibly as much as three weeks depending on how long you’d been here when you first attacked me. On that day, I had been in this world for twenty-seven days.”

Perry found his notebook, then began writing down what Cosme was saying. It was information, given freely, and Cosme was right that it wouldn’t help this current situation in the slightest, but it might help in the future, when Perry went to the next world.

“I think you can choose whether or not you want to go on, but I’ve gone every time,” said Cosme. “The portal opens, then you have a choice of whether or not to step into it. Why would it be like that if the choice was an illusion? Of course, if you get beaten to a pulp, you don't have much choice but to go through, if the portal shows up at all. And you can lose things, as I have. A whole world of material acquisitions can get lost that way. One of those losses I took, I wasn’t quite dead, just hurt enough that I’d have had a few years of recuperation in front of me and never walked right again. I went through the portal, pulling myself along with my arms, frightened that it would disappear before I could make it through. It was a world with healing, thankfully, freely given, readily available, hospitals that had me patched in within hours. I don't know why it worked out that way, but it did. Maybe we're set up only for challenges we can handle, prevented from losing too much.”

Perry doubted that, but held his pen above the page, waiting, just in case there was something Cosme could let slip that was actually interesting, something that was useful or unknown. Evidence, in another word, rather than supposition. Cosme had data he wasn't sharing, Perry was sure of that. What he wanted most was description of the other worlds and the other Adversaries.

“The uplift thing, that’s new for me,” said Cosme. “I’ve tried it before, but it’s too hard to get anything from just an idea, the wheels of progress turning too slow. The worlds are also too variable. I’m not sure what you’ve gotten — I’m hoping you’ll tell me — but of the ones that I’ve been to, only two had the level of technology that I was used to. Here, automobiles are the realm of the ultrawealthy, and electricity is the product of huge amounts of labor.”

He took a breath. “Look, I do have a proposal here. I want to be upfront about that. So far as I know, there’s nothing that says we have to fight. We’ve gone more than a week without seeing each other. So long as I don’t stick my head out, I’m not sure how you’ll find me, though I have no illusions that I can stay hidden, since in the past that hasn’t worked. But whoever wins, they get to carry some of their power through. Seems to me that we can both gather up as much as we can, go into the next world with gold, equipment, things that we can trade for money, and mutually prepare. Then we can fight. Assuming neither of us dies, that we get beaten soundly enough, mutilated enough for the portal to open, we could both go through with our winnings. I don't know the rules, but that’s what I’m hoping for. I’m not dumb enough to ask for a cease fire, but I won’t be seeking you out, just looking over my shoulder and making sure that you’re not there with a knife. I hope to hear back from you. This message will repeat, should be every six hours if my setup is right.”

When Cosme was finished, Perry looked through the log, trying to pick apart the wording, treating it like a scientific paper that he was reading critically, both in what was said and what wasn’t said. Cosme hadn’t mentioned the Custom or the magical underbelly of Teaguewater, he’d said nothing about Wesley, he hadn’t talked about his own abilities or what he’d be doing during that time … there was quite a lot that was missing.

There was also something about the way that Cosme talked that reminded Perry of their first conversation, and just for the sake of his own memory, he replayed the moment that Cosme had attempted a killing strike with the staff from behind. They were honeyed words, a man playing at being reasonable, and if Perry was going to respond, it would be with calculation and a script, looked over by Flora, the better to not give anything away.

A piece of Perry had to admit that he liked Cosme, or at least something about him. If he was telling the truth, Cosme was the scrappy underdog, kicked and slapped but always bouncing back, doing his best to bring radical advancement in science and technology to whatever world he happened to find himself in. It hadn’t been Cosme who ambushed Perry, it had been the other way around, and while they had tried to kill each other — twice — it hadn’t been like the previous times with Mordant and Pulver.

It was a dangerous way to think about the Adversary. There was a chance that Perry would hesitate in the final battle if he went in with the mindset that he was fighting someone who wasn’t all that bad.

It was late in the day when Flora came back, which was usual for her. She’d recovered from the fight at the clinic, healed by the organs she’d been scarfing down, though she was now running low on her supplies. More would come from a service provided by the Council, but it was uncertain times, and Flora seemed anxious about the prospect.

“If he’s stalling, what is he stalling for?” she asked.

“If Wesley is alive, and if they’ve met back up with each other, then maybe he’s waiting for some kind of miracle invention,” said Perry. “Some use of the rubies, or duplication of them. The gloves were simple, crude, and I don’t doubt that Wesley had something better in mind. He seemed to think that they would replace coal as a power source. And the rubies come from Cosme’s gauntlet, which he can charge up, at least according to Wesley. I expect that he’s got that fully studded by this point, but if he doesn’t, then yeah, giving him a week seems like a bad idea.”

“If you’re stalling, then for what purpose?” asked Flora.

Perry thought about that. He’d been drafting his response when she came in. “I would be helping you to contain the fraying Custom, at least as much as an outsider can.”

“That’s it?” asked Flora.

Perry hesitated. “I know you don’t like it, but there must be some way for me to gain power here.” The glamour was good, but it broke relatively easily, as soon as someone curious came along, or when there was no alternate explanation people could use to convince themselves. There were books from the Jade Scholars, and Perry did feel that she was holding out on him there, but his experience with reading material in Seraphinus had soured him on the idea.

“We never put it in terms of power,” said Flora. “We disdain the arguments of power. Yet … in this past week, it’s been clear that these were empty words, at least to some of us, and if power is only taken by those who wish to violate the precepts of our society, we’ll soon end up under their rule. I spoke with Mercer, asking about the Osten, and he denied everything. If the corruption comes within the Jade Council itself …”

“So you’ll help me?” asked Perry.

“You’re not religious,” said Flora.

“Um,” said Perry. “No.”

This world had its own version of Christianity, in that it was state-sponsored and ubiquitous, much like Perry imagined the Anglican Church had been in his Earth’s Victorian times. Their symbol was a chevron within a circle, which was emblazoned on many buildings, occasionally seen on clothes, and part of the flags that flew outside government buildings. Verstega was their prophet and gave the religion its name, though people mostly just spoke of God, or of the Verse, their holy book being nominally a hymnal, every line of it set to a somewhat monotonous tune. Perry hadn’t interacted with their religion much, hadn’t really had cause aside from slamming into the side of the cathedral on his first few minutes in the city.

“Verstega spoke on the topic of the Other,” said Flora. “There is a corruption that takes place within the eternal essence. We can only move to the Hereafter in a corrupted state.”

“Alright,” said Perry. “That, uh, probably doesn’t apply to me, as a thresholder? Do you believe that stuff?”

Flora gave a nod.

“And that’s part of why you don’t want to turn me?” asked Perry. “Don’t even want to let me know what the process is like? You think it’s a matter of essential humanity?”

Flora nodded again. “You’re a foreigner with strange customs, it’s one of the defining features of a thresholder, but to walk into this life ignorant is not something that I can allow.”

Perry looked at her and tried to imagine what her own transformation had been like. She had been young, he knew, and groomed for her role. For all her loyalty, she had some misgivings about that, clearly. Now she was a different creature, pale and with slender fingers, red lips and straight black hair. He wondered if she'd still have had that same air about her if the vampires had never entered her life. From what she's said, there was a good chance she'd have died.

“I can’t go in with open eyes if you keep me blindfolded,” said Perry. “Aside from your immortal soul, I need to know the process, the dangers.”

“You keep pushing it,” said Flora. “All for power.”

“Yes,” said Perry. “Or … power, as a means to an end.”

“Which is?” asked Flora.

That was the question, and not one that Perry had an easy answer to. For a time, it had been about the resurrection of Richter. Early on in Seraphinus, when he’d still been in shock, he had seen a resurrection of a soldier. It was magic, powerful and expensive, but it had worked, and he had immediately been struck with the thought that Richter could be brought back if he could get to her world fast enough, or with a more powerful version of the spell, or … something. He'd learned what he could from the world, though the path to becoming a healer or a wizard was long and arduous, and it was possible it couldn't be done from books alone, especially the quality of books they had there.

After the final fight with Pulver, he had started to think of it differently, as though he had a duty to find the Adversary and face him down. That it would lead to more worlds, more fights, more powers, was obvious, and if it eventually led him back to Richter’s world, and he had the power to pull her from her grave … but that was far in the distance. The breadth of worlds seemed very wide. Flora’s world offered immortality, of a sort, but nothing like resurrection, at least according to her, and if he was turned into one of them, his life would be complicated going forward, chaining him to needs he found unappealing and that would be hard to satisfy as an outsider to a new world.

“Cosme isn’t the worst I’ve seen,” said Perry. “I’m willing to entertain the possibility that he’s not even a bad guy. But there are others like Pulver and Mordant, the two I fought before, and they’re going to come in like wrecking balls, smashing through worlds as they fight each other. The end, the one that I'm seeking means for, is stopping them, not letting it come to that in world after world.”

“A wrecking ball,” said Flora. “I don’t know that term.”

“A ball, attached to a crane, swung at high speeds to demolish buildings,” said Perry.

“Apt,” said Flora. “And you think that’s … not you?”

Perry stared at her. “Of course it’s not me. Compared to the others? Cosme might be doing it for outwardly noble reasons, but he’s taken a spear to the heart of this world. He introduced magic, gave it directly to Edison, upended everything while half the world was completely unknown to him.”

“I didn’t mean to impugn your reputation,” said Flora. Her voice was grave. “I only know stories of your kind, the most destructive magical creatures known to us. You have power, can cut through vampires as though we were paper, and you want more. That’s what makes me hesitate.”

“Cosme is going to be gathering power too,” said Perry. “If Wesley is alive, and I think at this point we have to assume that he is in spite of his wounds, there’s a good chance that the next fight will be worse than the last one. I have a single good bullet left, and a lot of them that are dodgy. I need something more.”

“I’ll think about it,” said Flora. “That’s all I can promise. Your — you called it an immortal soul?”

“Yes,” said Perry.

“I need my own time to think about imperiling it,” said Flora.

Perry nodded. He thought that was about as good as it was going to get. He went over to the small couch and picked up his notebook from the end table. “This is everything that I think will be helpful. You should look it over and see what you want to be shared with your people. Obviously there are risks. Better to share it now, while I’m still here, so I can answer questions and give some clarification. I'm not a scientist, not an engineer, and I was mostly copying from a site — a book — that was written for laymen.”

Flora took it gingerly, as though it was dangerous. “I’ll read through it,” she said.

“I’m going to take the drone and put it far enough away that we can get some triangulation of the radio signal,” said Perry. “When night falls, I’m going out to track it. I don’t think he’ll be there, but if he is, it’ll be because he’s got a trap ready and waiting for me.”