Janus

Through one set of eyes, Janus watched long lines of blue-​coated infantry marching wearily down the road. Through another, he saw colonels and generals debating at a map table, and he offered a few choice suggestions. Another, and he could ascertain personally how much progress a flanking column had made, and then back to the map table to update the estimate of their arrival.

It was the dream of every general since the beginning of time. To be everywhere, to see everything, to be able to speak across the miles without delay or fear of interception. To learn things as they happened, not hours later and filtered through the eyes and understanding of others.

He felt like a god.

This is all I would need. All the other powers the Beast possessed—its ability to ​take control of new bodies, the depth of knowledge it had gained from its thousand-​year existence, everything—​were unnecessary. Communication, information, is everything. This is all I would need to conquer the world.

He felt a moment’s pity for poor Marcus d’Ivoire. The man was perfectly competent, and under ordinary circumstances Janus would have enjoyed the chance to match wits against him, though of course the outcome would be a forgone conclusion. But with the near ​omniscience of the Beast behind him, there was simply no contest. It was like fighting a blindfolded opponent.

The only thing that could catch him off guard was the Beast itself. He knew it was watching him, making sure he conducted the campaign in its interest. But he hadn’t expected its sudden rage, pushing all the red-​eyes in Satinvol in a desperate attempt to get to Marcus. Nor had he thought the Beast could capture new bodies at such long range, though he suspected the effort had cost it a great deal of energy. It is not to be underestimated.

Now its primary focus had withdrawn again, back to the north, where the pursuit of Winter Ihernglass was coming to a head. There was nothing Janus could do there beyond what he’d done already, not with the Beast paying such close attention; he could only put his trust in others, and hope. Winter hasn’t let me down so far.

Instead, he took the opportunity to work on his letter. It was tricky work, since the Beast always watched him most carefully when he made use of his original body. A few words here and a few words there were all he could manage, written in haste when the demon’s focus was otherwise engaged. He hoped the result would be legible.

“What are you doing?”

It was Jane’s voice, inasmuch as there were such things in the strange mindscape of the Beast. Janus saw her hovering nearby, another miniature whirlwind like himself, held together by sheer force of will. And, perhaps, madness. What Jane had managed was even more impressive than his own survival—​she’d apparently extricated herself from the Beast’s core. I suppose it no longer cares about her.

“The Beast has found me useful,” Janus said. “It cannot split its attention, so it has delegated some relatively unimportant tasks to me. I am prosecuting the campaign against the Vordanai army.”

“You’re killing them. Your old companions.”

“It is my area of expertise,” Janus said. “If I am not useful, I will be torn to pieces, as you well know.”

“You’ll be torn apart in the end anyway,” Jane said tauntingly. “We all will. Our only peace will be inside the Beast.”

“Perhaps. I choose to delay my fate a little longer, if I can.”

“Why?”

“Why does anyone live another day when they’ll have to die eventually?” If he’d had a body, Janus would have shrugged. “What are you doing, Jane Verity? I thought you had achieved your peace already.”

“Winter will be here soon. The Beast will take her.”

It will try. “I understand that’s what’s consuming its attention.” He paused. “Is that it? You don’t want to watch?”

“It will be... hard for her. At first.”

Janus laughed. “As I thought. You truly are a coward, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You told me this was for her sake. That you and Winter could be together here, and happy. But you know, if you’re honest with yourself, that it isn’t true. Winter would never submit to the Beast, as you and I have. She will fight until there is nothing left of her but scraps.”

“I will find the scraps,” Jane said. “I will find her. I have until the end of time.”

“Of course. Better that than risk her rejecting you again.”

“She only rejected me because of you,” Jane said. “Because you twisted her mind.”

“Deceive yourself if you like,” Janus said. “I know Winter better than that. Better, it seems, than you do, if you think she’ll ever be happy here, as part of a monster.”

“I will have her,” Jane said. “Forever. And that’s the end of it.”

“Whether she wants you or not?”

“She wants me!” The last word rose to a screech, and Jane vanished, her whirlwind self zipping across the non-​space. Janus watched her for a moment, then returned to his task.

In the real world, Janus bet Vhalnich picked up a pen and, without looking, quickly scrawled a few words on a sheet of paper, as though he were afraid someone was watching.