Fate's Edge

and opened the door half an inch. “Hey. How’s it hanging?”
    She blinked. “Umm, is your brother here?”
    Jack braced the door with his foot. If George started mumbling, their lives would get complicated fast. “He’s sleeping.”
    The girl licked her lower lip nervously. “Maybe you could wake him up.”
    “He’s tired. I’m tired, too.”
    “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you woke him up for me.”
    The way she stood, determined, one foot forward, meant she wouldn’t go away on her own. He had to say something mean now, or they’d be stuck here with the door half-opened, and George could start talking any moment. Jack rummaged in his brain.
    “He has a girlfriend. And she’s prettier than you.”
    The freckled girl took a step back. “You know what? Fuck you.”
    “Fuck you back. Bye now.” Jack shut the door and latched it. Phew.
    An hour passed. Another. This was taking too long.
    Finally, George announced, “Okay, I’m through. The room is empty except for the table. On the table there is a square glass case. I see it now. It’s a low-grade Karuman emotional amplifier, level three, standard cloak-chain model, known as the Eyes of Karuman. There is a book in my luggage on automatics; it should have a picture. This item was used by a cult, and it’s been banned in the realms for at least a hundred years. It doesn’t just influence emotions; it cooks your brain until you become a fanatic. Judging by the mineral crust on the lower edges of the disks, this thing has been used a lot. You need to tell Kaldar and Audrey that when the device is active, the people likely think Yonker is a prophet and will defend him with their lives. But the effect is short-lived, so he has to continuously use it to keep the congregation together. The use of the device induces euphoria, and some research suggests that the congregation will exhibit dependent tendencies.”
    “English, George,” Jack muttered.
    “. . . meaning they are addicted to the way the Eyes of Karuman makes them feel.”
    Great. Crazy addicted religious people.
    “The device consists of two golden disks two inches in diameter. Each disk has a dark blue stone, probably sapphire, pillow cut, an inch and a half in diameter. There are five glyphs on each disk, radiating from the stone out. From the top going clockwise, glyph for air, glyph for mind . . .” George launched into a detailed description of the parts.
    Jack memorized it all. Finally, George took a deep breath. “Okay. Bring me back now.”
    Jack grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “Wake up.”
    Nothing. Fear shot through Jack. It was all right. He still had a backup. He had water.
    “Wake up!”
    No response. Crap.
    Jack grabbed the bottle of water, pulled the lid off, and dumped it on George’s head.
    “Anytime,” George said.
    Curse it.
    Jack slapped him. Nothing. Another slap. Nothing. Panic swelled in him.
    “It’s not working,” George said.
    “No shit.” Jack paced back and forth, like a caged tiger.
    “Don’t panic.”
    “I’m not panicking.” He didn’t know why he kept talking. It was not like George could see him or hear him.
    “Try burning me.”
    “With what, George? We have no matches.” With each second, the gulf between his brother’s mind and his body grew wider. They should’ve thought about this. They should’ve brought something, a lighter, matches, something.
    “No wait. We don’t have any matches. I forgot. Jack, you have to hurt me.”
    “You’re crazy.”
    “I know it sounds nuts, but it works. You have to do it, because if you don’t, I’ll be stuck in this rat. Pain, Jack. Severe pain. My body needs to send me a signal that it’s fighting for its life, or it will just go to sleep. You could try breaking my fingers. That works sometimes—”
    Screw it. Jack grasped George’s neck into an armlock and squeezed, hurting but avoiding the jugular. If he put pressure on it, George would pass out. Three seconds, and George gasped for breath. Jack kept squeezing. George’s face turned purple. Jack hauled him up. George made no effort to resist. He just hung there like a cloth doll. Jack kept squeezing. He couldn’t remember how long it took to choke a man to death. Of all the things, how could he, with his perfect memory, forget that one? Was it three minutes? Two? He tightened his hold.
    Please, George. Please.
    George’s hands clawed his arm. Jack let go, and his brother crashed to the floor and sucked in a long, hoarse