Myron sighed. “I keep forgetting how young and optimistic you are.”
“So what?” she said. “Those are good things.”
He sneered. “Optimism won’t beat a god.”
“But the Spirit of Optimism might,” Shiro said thoughtfully. “Has humanity really advanced that much?”
“I think it has,” Marci said. “Universal literacy, modern medicine and agriculture, the spread of democracy, equality for women—these things bring a lot to the table. We’ve still got our problems, as Myron pointed out, but we’re trying to fight them. That’s why organizations like the UN exist: to foster peace and improve people’s lives. Even when we fail at that, I’d still rather be alive right now than at any other time in history. That has to count for something.”
“It does,” the shikigami said, tapping his chin. “How would you build an army of Merlins?”
“Why are you asking?” Marci asked coyly. “Have you decided to come over to my side?”
“There are no sides,” he said primly. “I care only for what is effective. In my master’s time, that was the seal, and even he admitted that was a defeat. If the situation has changed such that we no longer need such heavy-handed measures, I am delighted to switch course. If it’s true.”
“Oh, it’s true,” Myron said. “I just don’t know if it’s enough.” He glared at Marci. “Our enemies are gods. Even if we can stabilize the crack to prevent a full breakdown, they’ll still be here sooner than we like. How do you propose we handle that? It’s not like we can just recruit Merlins and have them ready.”
“Why not?” Marci asked, glancing at Shiro. “What would you say the chances are for your average mage to become a Merlin?”
The shikigami looked offended. “Such things cannot be measured in chance.”
“On a large enough scale, anything can be measured in chance,” she said. “Just give me your best guess.”
He sighed. “To be clear, I don’t believe Merlins can be accounted in this way, but if I had to give a number, I’d say that perhaps one in a million mages is skilled, disciplined, and lucky enough to find an appropriate Mortal Spirit, forge a bond, and make it all the way through the gate.”
“Fantastic,” Marci said, doing the math. “So if the current world population is nine billion people, and the chances of being born a mage are roughly one in ten, that gives us approximately nine hundred million mages alive right now. If we apply your one-in-a-million guess to that number, we get nine hundred potential Merlins.”
That actually didn’t sound like much for a global organization, but Shiro’s eyes went wide. “Nine hundred?”
“How many did you have before?”
“Never more than a few dozen,” he said, his voice awed. “Nine hundred Merlins would be incredible.”
Marci grinned. “What did I tell you? It’s a brand-new ballgame. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but we are absolutely not out of this fight. I know we can make it, because no matter what Myron says, humanity’s not all fear and death and war, and neither are our spirits.”
Myron shook his head at that, but Shiro was staring at her with new eyes. “Now I understand why the Heart of the World let you in,” he said. “You are a champion of humanity indeed, Marci Novalli.”
“She’s going to get humanity killed,” Myron said angrily, glaring at her. “You’ve won over the shikigami, but I still say we should repair the seal.”
“Are you crazy?” Marci cried. “Even if you don’t care about the spirits or the magical animals or everything else we’ll be ruining, did you miss the part where blocking off the magic will destroy our afterlife?”
“Better than destroying our living life!” he shouted back. “At least fading into nothing would be peaceful. You’re talking about raising armies of Merlins so we can recruit gods to fight against other gods. Even if you can pull that off, which, for the record, I don’t think you can, the results will be catastrophic. Even if you win every conflict, can you conceive of the damage a fight between spirits of that size could do? How many innocent lives would be lost? It’s unthinkable. It’s irresponsible.”
“It’s still better than screwing over every magical entity on the planet,” she said, glaring at him. “Trading our eternity for a little more safety right now is not a good bargain.”
“It is if you like being alive,” Myron growled. “Safety and security are not to be scoffed at. Not everyone has your cozy relationship with death.”
“Why are you so convinced we can’t make this work? Of all mages, I didn’t expect defeatism from the great Sir Myron Rollins.”
“Because you haven’t had to deal with as many disasters as I have!” he yelled.
“Well, maybe that’s the problem,” Marci said. “You’ve had your face shoved into the gutter of humanity for so long, you’ve forgotten the great things we’re capable of.”
Myron looked away in disgust. “Why are you even trying to convince me, anyway?” he said bitterly. “You’re the Merlin. I’m only here on your charity. Pretending you care about my opinion is an insult to us both.”
“That’s not true,” she said, walking around the seal so that he had to face her. “This is a decision that affects everyone, especially you. You’re one of the greatest living mages who also happens to be tied to the only other Mortal Spirit in existence right now. She might not be chained to you anymore, but the link between mage and Mortal Spirit is forever. Until one of you dies, that makes you the closest thing to the next Merlin we’ve got.”
Myron’s lip curled in a sneer. “Don’t act like that makes you happy.”
“It doesn’t,” Marci snapped. “You’re a cynical jerk who wants to wipe out all magic because he’s afraid. But you’re also a mage who wants to save humanity, just like I do. That’s not a lot of common ground to work with, but we have to use it, because no matter what we decide to do in the end, something has to be done about this seal before it snaps, and I can’t do it on my own.”
That was the bald truth. Marci was rightfully proud of her spellwork, but even in her greatest moments of hubris, she’d never claim to be as good as Sir Myron Rollins. He’d literally written the books on ancient casting languages and complex spellwork system modification, both of which were vital if they were going to have a prayer of transforming the cracked seal into something stable.
“I’m not asking you to agree with everything I say,” she said gently. “I just want you to take a chance. You came here ready to give up your magic in order to save mankind. That’s not something a mage would do if he weren’t serious about his convictions. We disagree a lot, but in this at least, you and I are the same. We both want to fix things, so let’s do it, but let’s do it together.”
She held out her hand to him as she finished, and Myron gave her frankly skeptical look.
“Really?”
“Really,” she said sincerely. “We’ve got too many enemies to keep fighting each other. Now are you with me or what?”
She flashed him her best smile, the one she used to close deals, but Myron just smacked her offered hand away.
“Come on!” she cried. “I saved you!”
“Which entitles you to nothing,” he said, crossing his arms tight over his chest. “A shikigami of the Last Merlin flat-out told you that the Mortal Spirits are going to overrun us, and you’re planning to ignore him. Not because of facts, but because you feel different. Because you believe in the power of human goodness. That might make a nice inspirational poster, but it is lunacy to bet the lives of every man, woman, and child on such shoddy logic, and I refuse to ride at your side while you tilt at windmills.” He kicked the broken seal with the toe of his fancy shoe. “You want to destroy the world? Do it yourself.”
Marci was imagining dropping that stone seal on his head. “Why are you so stubborn? It’s like you want to give up your magic!”
“What I want is to ensure the survival of the human race,” he snarled. “You’re the one who cares about magic more tha
n people.”
“But people are magic!” she yelled. “This isn’t humans versus spirits. It’s all of us finding a way to live together without killing each other!”
“Tell that to Algonquin,” Myron said. “She’s certainly made up her mind. And since you were right about me still being bound to the DFZ, I might as well tell you that she’s already back in her city, and it is not a happy homecoming. She and Algonquin are determined to tear each other apart, which means the chaos I warned you about is already happening. You could stop it if you cared to. I’d gladly help you repair the seal and shut all this down for good, but that’s not what you want. You want to fight. You want to have it all, even if it means people die. I can’t allow that, so unless you change your mind, we have nothing further to discuss.”
He turned away after that. Marci turned her back on him as well, grinding her teeth as she fought the urge to throw him off the mountain. Julius made this turning-enemies-into-allies stuff look so easy when he did it, but Myron must have been more stubborn than a dragon, because she was getting nowhere. She just didn’t understand how such a smart man could be so cynical and shortsighted. If he weren’t the only other mage here, Marci would have written him off completely. She didn’t need this nonsense.
Unfortunately, she did need his help. Even if Amelia could translate the words, the crazy spellwork on the seal was way outside Marci’s area of expertise. If nothing else, she needed another pair of hands to maintain the circle that would hold the magic steady while she made changes. Myron might not be able to change the spellwork here, but he could still move magic, and unlike her, he could actually read what the spell did. That was kind of important when you were trying to modify a spell where a single mistake could send a thousand years of magic cascading down on an unsuspecting world.
There was nothing for it. She needed him, and since appealing to Sir Myron’s reason and better nature was clearly a waste of time, Marci decided to try a different approach. “How about we make a deal?”
Myron glanced suspiciously over his shoulder.
“I get that you don’t want anything to do with this,” she went on. “But the seal still has to be stabilized. I can’t do that on my own, so how about you help me figure out a way to jury-rig this thing into letting out magic at a safe, sustainable rate, and in return, I will build you an emergency shut-off.”
“You mean like a kill switch?” he said, turning back around.
“Exactly like a kill switch,” she said. “I’ll even let you design it so you can be certain it works. This way, I can do my thing, and if you’re right about it destroying humanity, you’ve got something you can hit to shut things down anytime you want.”
For a moment, Myron looked as if he was actually giving the idea serious consideration, and then he scowled.
“I see your trick,” he said bitterly. “You’re letting me build a kill switch because you know I won’t be able to use it. Even if you made me a big red button right on top, I wouldn’t be able to push it, because only Merlins can manipulate spellwork in the Heart of the World, and I’m not a Merlin.”
“Of course there’s a trick,” Marci said with a smile. “I’m offering you a deal, not a surrender. Why would I let you build a kill switch if I knew you were just going to mash it the first moment you could? No, no.” She wagged her finger. “Here’s my part of the deal. I will let you make a kill switch, but you’re going to have to become a Merlin yourself if you want to push it.”
Myron stared at her, uncomprehending. “A Merlin?”
Marci, Ghost growled in her mind. What are you doing? You can’t make him a Merlin. He wants to destroy us.
“But that’s just it,” she whispered back, keeping her eyes on Myron. “I can’t ‘make’ him a Merlin. The Heart of the World decides that, not me, and that’s why this is going to work. Think about when the gate let me in. It didn’t open because I was a hotshot mage with a Mortal Spirit. I was only let in after I freed the DFZ, because that was when I’d proved I understood that Merlins are champions for all of humanity. Spirits and ghosts included, not just the physical people alive right now. That’s why I can build Myron a kill switch, because if he can understand that truth to the point where the Heart of the World opens to him, then he’ll no longer be the sort of man who wants to push it.”
That didn’t stop the other Merlins, the Empty Wind argued. They were the ones who made the seal in the first place.
“And considered it their greatest defeat,” she said, raising her voice so that Myron could hear too. “I know it’s a gamble, but it’s a safe one, because I’m right. If Myron can become a Merlin on his own merit, then I won’t have to say a word. He’ll understand for himself just how foolish and cowardly he’s being, or he won’t be a Merlin at all.”
The older mage sneered. “And if I refuse?”
“You won’t,” Marci said confidently. “Refusing would mean you’ve given up on becoming a Merlin entirely, and I don’t believe that for a second. You might have lost your shot at being the first, but this is still something you’ve wanted all your life. There’s no way you’re giving it up now. Not when you’re so close.”
That, at last, seemed to get through. “I’ll never give up,” he said firmly. “I deserve to be a Merlin.”
“Great,” Marci said. “If you can dump that sense of entitlement, you might just make it. In the meanwhile, how about translating this seal? Because I have no idea where to start.”
Myron heaved a long-suffering sigh. Then, slowly, he leaned down over the seal. “For the record,” he said. “I’m only doing this because I’m terrified of what you’d do in ignorance without me. The moment the crack is stabilized, though, you’re taking me back to the physical world. I need to get my body back so I can find another spirit and come back here as a Merlin to do what you could not.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “But before you get your hopes up too high, you’re not getting another spirit. First, the DFZ is the only Mortal Spirit in the world aside from Ghost right now, and second, did you miss the part where you two were bound for life?”
Myron shook his head. “I can’t use her. She hates me.”
“Tough,” Marci said. “She’s your responsibility. You raised her. You pissed her off. Now you have to clean up your mess. Or do you not believe a Merlin should be responsible for his mistakes?”
When Myron flinched, Marci knew she had him. “Just give it a chance. The DFZ is famous for being a place where people start over. Talk to her. Apologize for being a jerk. Treat her like a city instead of a monster, and I bet you’ll be surprised.”
He rubbed his hands over his face. “If she sees me again, she’s going to kill me.”
“Then you’d better make sure she has a good reason not to,” Marci said, joining him by the seal. “Either way, you’ve already said yes, so let’s get to work. I want to get this thing stable pronto so I can get back to the real world, too. I left a lot of irons in the fire when I died. The faster I get back to deal with those, the happier I’ll be. And speaking of…”
She glanced at Shiro. “How do I travel back and forth from here to the real world? Do I click my heels together or spin widdershins or what?”
“What are you talking about?” the shikigami asked, genuinely confused. “This is the real world.”
“I meant I want to go back to being alive,” Marci clarified. “Since I was bound to a death spirit, I had to die to get over here. Now that I’m officially a Merlin, though, I’d like to remedy that. You know, get a new body, return to the physical world, all that good stuff. History’s full of famous Merlins, so I know it has to be possible. How do I do it?”
“That depends,” Shiro said. “Does your spirit have an aspect of rebirth?”
Marci looked at Ghost, who shook his head.
The shikigami shrugged. “Then I’m afraid there is no way back.”
She froze. For a long heartbeat, Marci just stood there like a statue. Then she exploded into motion, gra
bbing the shikigami’s shoulders with both hands as she shrieked, “What?”
Chapter 11
Finding Chelsie was never an easy task. Even when you thought you knew where she was, she had a bad habit of vanishing whenever your back was turned. This was why, even though he’d just left her in Bob’s room, the first thing Julius did when he reached the mountain was pull out his phone to message Fredrick.
And was immediately rewarded. He’d barely hit send before Fredrick messaged back that he and Chelsie had retreated down the mountain to her room in the basement. Thanking him profusely for saving him a long and pointless climb, Julius started down the stairs, using his years of experience in hiding from his family to avoid all the emperor’s dragons and servants as he made his way down to Chelsie’s lair in the mountain’s roots.
Fredrick was waiting when he got there, camped out on the narrow couch in Chelsie’s cramped library where Marci had slept the one night she’d spent here. He rose to his feet when Julius walked in, his false-green eyes worried. “What’s wrong?”
Julius didn’t have time to explain Ian’s ultimatum, so he got right to the point. “Where’s Chelsie?”
“Asleep,” the F replied, tilting his head toward the closed bedroom door. “And before you ask, I wouldn’t suggest waking her.”
“But this is an emergency.”
“So is this,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Chelsie’s a bad sleeper on her good days. Exhausted as she is right now, she’ll take your head off before she realizes what’s going on.”
Julius scowled. Fredrick was always so dry, it was impossible to tell if he was being serious or not. Given that Chelsie herself had warned Julius multiple times never to wake her up, though, he was leaning toward not. He was trying to come up with a plan that would let him get to Chelsie while still keeping his head on his shoulders when Fredrick threw something at him.