“It goes by many names. That’s one. I like it, but it’s not accurate. The Origin is both the structure and everything it controls. But the universe was here before the Creators. They built the Origin to control time by eliminating it. They believed all life should be immortal and exist without the burden of time. Don’t ask me how they control it because no one here knows. You only wanted facts.”

  “And that’s a hell of a start. I reckon they didn’t get their wish. Nearabout everything dies, even stars.”

  She squeezed his hand.

  “The Creators became divided on that very topic. They went to war. The winners favored mortal life and linear time. They abandoned the Origin but left the others behind to guard this place.”

  “What happened to the ones who took off?”

  “They started two mortal species.”

  “Humans?”

  “We were one.”

  “The other?”

  She looked away.

  “It’s complicated, and I don’t have enough facts. One day you might meet a pair of them, if you’re lucky.”

  “What? Not everyone here is human?”

  “No. Let’s stick to facts. The ones who created the new species grew old and died. The immortal Creators evolved. They became artificial lifeforms who looked after the Origin.”

  “Fuck. The Overseer?”

  “Yes. Your Gingerbread used to be a Creator.”

  The deeper they traveled down this hole, the more Royal laughed at the sheer madness of it all. He thought about what he’d seen and done in the past year alone.

  “Sure. Why not? If I can jump through a Splinter and land in another universe, there must be a race of gods doing … well, god shit.”

  “Two Creators chose a different evolution. The Riders. They lost their physical form and became agents of nonlinear time, determined to prove the superiority of immortal life. They entered along the Continuum wherever they saw intersections.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Junctions where history shifts.”

  “Right. When assholes start throwing grenades.”

  “They ride along with people who create those shifts. Sometimes, they work in tandem. But with some, like yours, the people they inhabit don’t meet until the intersection occurs. You’re only the second pair I know of who were born in different universes. The chance you’d ever meet each other was all but impossible.”

  The longer her story, the more sense it made to Royal.

  “The Riders were in control. They made it happen. Right?”

  “In other words, did you ever have free will? Yes. Total free will. The Riders never interfere. They don’t whisper in your ear and tell you all the naughty bits you have to do. But they know time so well, they foresee the intersection. They foresaw you and Moon.”

  “Why did they care about us?”

  “I couldn’t say, Royal. The Riders make surprising choices, but their goal has never changed. They want to prove immortal life without the burden of time is superior.”

  “Huh. Gingerbread said Bessios was a reward for the fortunate few. Everyone here is immortal, and nobody’s keeping time.”

  “Correct. Bessios is the template for how life should be, according to the Creators.”

  Royal pushed back his chair.

  “So, why did they stop with us? What does it mean?”

  Felina clapped her fists together.

  “It means they made a decision about which form of existence is superior. The Continuum has served its purpose. They’re ready for the next step. Prelude.”

  “There’s that word again. Prelude is …?”

  “Like I told you before, the end of all things.”

  “Still not feeling you. Don’t like that pronoun all.”

  “We’ve never been told how it will end or when. The Prelude is the Riders’ proclamation of destiny. Their judgment. Time and life across the universes will be remade to fit their proclamation.”

  “How?”

  “We don’t know, but it’s called the Final Verdict. Everyone in Bessios will be thrilled, regardless of the choice. Either we’ll live free in a universe without time, or we’ll evolve beyond our bodies.”

  “Die, you mean.”

  “No. Evolve.”

  “Huh. Got any more good facts?”

  She tapped her nose. He’d begun to hate that move.

  “I can fill the gaps with opinion and speculation, but you didn’t want any of those. Besides, you’ll find lots of different ideas when you walk the streets.”

  “Fair enough. Where do we go from here?”

  “Well,” she smiled like a schemer. “You can put it all out of your mind for the moment and relax.”

  “How’s that supposed to work?”

  “Smell it?”

  Suddenly, it was all around him. A simple intoxicant, sweet and pungent. He’d recognize it anywhere. Royal saw a whiff of smoke escape through the double doors.

  Moon emerged through a cloud, pulling hard on a digipipe.

  “You won’t believe what I found,” he said, blowing smoke through his nose. “And this leaf? Best ever.”

  “Go ahead,” Felina said. “You earned it.”

  “How?”

  “Rider chose you.”

  Royal made his way toward the double doors.

  “Gee. Thanks, Rider.”

  16

  R OYAL NEVER SAW A PANTRY like this one. Three rows of tall cupboards, thin drawers, and temperature-controlled cabinets held housewares, sporting equipment, handheld tools, art supplies, pottery, books, plus random décor both ghastly and incomprehensible. They were jumbled, with Moon having rummaged through them.

  “It’s everything you could think of, and then some,” Moon said. “The best part is in the back. C’mon, Royal.”

  The kid was insufferably giddy, but Royal put aside his irritation when he saw the clear-faced cabinets along the rear wall.

  Liquor in every color filled bottles tall, thin, engorged, and sculpted. The cabinets wrapped around a central humidor where wide cases of various cured leaves, many hand-rolled, sat adjacent to a collection of pipes from traditional to digital.

  “Have you ever seen anything like it?” The Hokki said.

  “Not in one place. I reckon there’s worse ways to spend forever.”

  Moon pointed to the humidor.

  “What are those called?”

  “Cigars.”

  “Are they as good as pipes?”

  “Depends. I smoked a small one in The Hold. Then I bashed a guy’s brains in. Eh. Long story.”

  “I think you told me that one. Inspired the wolf?”

  Royal snapped his fingers.

  “That was the guy. I needed to make a point, and that poor asshole got me hot for blood. Whatever it takes, Moon. Don’t you forget.”

  “I’ll try not to.” Moon inhaled the leaf and savored it. “I only started smoking the last few weeks before … well. I found a pipe in Grandfather’s old study. Father didn’t approve at first, but he got over it. I never drank anything stronger than wine. What should I try first, Royal? Can you recommend a good drink for a newb?”

  “Slow down, killer. You just ate breakfast. And from what I hear, time ain’t an issue.”

  Royal looked toward the entrance.

  “Hey, Felina. What’s the deal with this pantry?”

  “Leftovers, mostly. Over lifetimes, I added things I think newcomers will like.”

  “What do you mean by leftovers?”

  “Thousands of Destroyers and Observants have come through from every kind of human culture. Some from iron-age societies, and others with advanced tech, like yours. When they want something, it’s created through flexmatter.”

  “That device you’re gonna show us.”

  “Yes.” She glanced around the room with pride. “It builds from the molecular level. We don’t have a device for disintegration. When the newcomers finish transition and leave objects behind, I store them in here or the bedroom or the kitchen. Wherever’s appropriate. I won’t have to bother when you two leave. Nobody else will be coming.”

  “Bet you could sell all this shit for a mighty fortune.”

  “We don’t have currency.”

  “I was afraid you were gonna say that. But hey, if I wanna become the most famous painter in Bessios, I got all the tools I need. If I wanna drink myself into oblivion, I’m good to go.”

  She clapped her fists together.

  “You and Moon can become whatever you want. This is Bessios.”

  “Hear that, Moon? Anything you wanna be. Until Prelude.”

  Moon was comparing two tall bottles, one with crimson liquor, the other yellow.

  “What did you say? Prelude?”

  “Never mind, Moon. I’ll catch you up.”

  He reached into the humidor and grabbed the closest cigar, wider than his thumb. The leaf smelled sweet and mild. That’ll do. Royal chose from the assortment of lighters and knew with one puff he made the right selection.

  Exhaling a narrow stream of smoke, he asked Felina:

  “Best ever?”

  “Best ever.”

  He walked past her, smoke swirling.

  “And you say people leave this house? Why?”

  Back in the main room, Felina stopped at the dining table.

  “I’ll clean up, Royal. I think the sofa is calling your name.”

  “Wait. The dishes? You do the housework, too?”

  “Today. You’ll get into a routine. Some of the things that go on around here may seem magical, but chores aren’t. You can’t just make new plates and silverware with every meal.”

  “That’d be kind of loony, even for this place.”

  “It’s a great life in Bessios, but we still have to work.”

  “You don’t want help?”

  She stacked three plates and shook her head.

  “This is my honor, Royal. It’s my last go-around.”

  Was that a tear he saw?

  She entered the kitchen and set the dishes beside the sink.

  At least something is normal around here.

  He added the comfort of the leather sectional to his new list of best-evers. Royal fell between the surreal creases and smoked. He understood the appeal of rest and relaxation. Good for the mind and body. A man needed to slow down and indulge in the finer things on occasion. Set aside the pressures of the next day, quell the urges that boiled the blood, and appreciate the quiet.

  It was tempting, but how? Surely, it was less troublesome than having sex with a woman or saving a Hokki family from the Swarm. The equation seemed simple enough: Do nothing, care about nothing, and stop worrying about Moon. That last bit got him into this mess.

  If you’re listening, Rider, feel free to offer advice. Don’t know how long you’ve been hanging around inside me, but you definitely pulled off a prank for the ages. Anytime you’re ready to pipe in, I’ll be here.

  Asshole.

  Royal didn’t expect a response. If Felina’s story was correct, Rider was the kind of arrogant jerk who knew how to bide his time until the perfect moment. He’d wait until others did the heavy lifting and set the pieces in place then leap out of the shadows and expect applause.

  I never liked gods. Hear that, Rider? Never liked them. Invisible, for one. If I can’t see a god so I can shoot him between the eyes, he’s not worth shit to me. Something to think about, Rider. Just saying.

  Felina handed him a crystal plate with fluted edges.

  “The ash is real,” she said.

  The cigar had burnt more than an inch, its ash dangling. He tapped the ash into the plate.

  “Thanks, Felina.”

  “Comfy?”

  “Too much, I think.”

  “You’ll get the swing of it. Moon has.”

  She returned to the kitchen as the Hokki entered the main room, pipe in his mouth and smoke wafting. In one hand, he held a bottle with crimson liquor; in the other, a glass half full. He set up shop on the sectional two pillows down from Royal.

  “How’s the drink, killer?”

  “Hot. Spicy. Like cinnamon, but not.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “There’s no label. Maybe I should ask Felina.”

  “Or maybe you should take it easy. You’re liable to be throwing up breakfast before long.”

  Moon rolled his eyes like an incorrigible teenager.

  “I’m not stupid, Royal. I know how to drink in moderation.”

  Royal broke into a fit of laughter, choking on his smoke.

  “Moder …? Are you serious? You don’t know how to drink. Period. I learned the hard way. It ain’t about moderation.”

  “Yeah? What’s it about, Royal?”

  “I was younger than you, living in a fucking sewer. Stole what I could, drank whenever I could. I got a lot of shitty memories. Throwing up on myself under Zozo will stand the test of time.”

  Moon’s sigh was a clarion call: He didn’t want to hear anymore of Royal’s stories, which dominated their months of walking.

  “You had it bad. Mine could’ve been better, too. So what? Those lives are over. We’re here now, Royal. You heard Felina. I can be whatever I want.”

  “Not if you’re drunk and mopping up breakfast.”

  Moon finished the glass and poured another in clear defiance.

  “I’m having a drink. That’s all. I want to be happy. I deserve it.”

  “Point taken. I guess I was starting to sound like your mother.”

  Moon offered Royal the bottle.

  “Want some?”

  “Maybe later. I don’t think that shit’s gonna play nice with a bellyful of sausage. Here’s hoping you’re made of sterner stuff than I thought.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Not a damn thing.”

  “Sure, it does. Royal, you don’t say anything you don’t mean.”

  Royal tucked the cigar between his teeth and puffed.

  “Just trying to pass along the benefit of age and experience. Take it as you will.”

  “I don’t think age matters anymore. As for experience? If I decide I wanna be a serial killer, I’ll seek your advice.” Moon lifted the glass to his lips but stopped short. “Sorry. That wasn’t fair.”

  “No worries. If you’re thinking of career choices, listen to the best. I had a good mentor to start. After he died, I had to figure the rest from scratch. There ain’t a playbook for serial killers. But you settle down, get a few years under your belt, and it comes easy. Experience.”

  “Hah. I still can’t believe how you’re able to talk about it like it was just another lifestyle. I killed two people who had it coming, and it doesn’t bother me in the least. I would’ve killed more if I had the chance. I really wanted to blast that ship’s Captain.”

  “You were a soldier without a uniform. All’s fair.”

  “What if I kill somebody and it’s not fair? Maybe it’s just because I want to.”

  “Why would you go down that road?”

  “Dunno. But we can make ourselves into anything here. Maybe I’d be curious. Maybe I’d like to see the world through your eyes.”

  Royal sat up.

  “Why in the fuck would you want to do that?”

  “Because you’re free. The rules don’t apply to you.”

  “I know a Scroll who’d say different.”

  “Seriously, Royal. I mean it. You’ve done awful shit in your life, but I respect you. Only a man like you could’ve saved my family. You killed Empress Chastain. You’re fucking incredible.”

  “And you’re on the road to being a happy drunk.”

  Moon set down the bottle and the half-empty glass.

  “I’m not wrong. I loved it when you taught me how to use those guns. I wasn’t afraid when the Destroyers arrived. I was excited. I felt something rising up inside me.”

  “That’s called courage. And yeah, Moon, you’re brave. But the things I do don’t take courage. They take not giving a shit about human life. I never spent one minute regretting what I did, and I’ve killed kids. So, if you wanna walk down that road, I’ll show you the way.”

  Moon dismissed Royal with a one-handed wave.

  “Don’t give a shit? Come on, Royal. You don’t fool me. Every time I had a breakdown out there, you talked me through it. Some days you felt like a brother and others like a best friend. I mean, we are, right? Best friends.”

  “Best implies there were other candidates. I win by default.”

  “I’m good with that.” Moon grinned. “Just do me one favor.”

  “I hate when people tag that on the end.”

  “Treat me like your best friend, Royal. Not a little brother or some kid who still needs to be protected.”

  “Then don’t act like one.”

  “Deal.”

  Royal ran through the absurdities of this most unlikely friendship and decided to make one final concession.

  “I’ll stop acting like you owe me a debt. Far as I’m concerned, you paid it off in spades. You kept me company all these months, and I did kill you a couple times.”

  “Three.”

  “When was …?”

  “Think about it.”

  “Oh, yeah. That time you got impaled. It wasn’t intentional, but I reckon it counts.”

  They shared a laugh about Moon’s first death and regeneration post-arrival. Royal really didn’t expect the spike on that cactus to be tough as a steel rod.

  “We’re besties in Bessios,” Moon said.

  “Huh. Bestios. Sounds like a breakfast food. Anyway, my besty, we need to have a serious confab. I learned the full scoop while you were playing around in the pantry. Still sober enough to take it in?”

  “I feel light on my toes, but yeah, I’m with you.”

  “Good. Because this shit is really nuts.”

  Royal heard whispering amid the clanking of dishes and running water in the kitchen. Or was Felina talking to herself? He looked over the rear of the sectional and saw the young woman frantically scrubbing a pot while talking out the side of her mouth.

  Who was there? The cabinets blocked his view.

  “You need some help?” He yelled.

  “No, no, Royal. Last pot and I’m then all yours.”

  “Good enough.”

  “Coffee?”

  “I think we’re good for now. Moon might want a few cups before long. I …”