Of his three possible ambush points, Nym most wanted the one that took place a hundred years in the future from what he considered to be ‘present day’ to be the one that worked. He was fully aware that what time he struck in the core reality would have no difference on when Myzalik’s existence unraveled in the outer layers, but Nym was far from an expert on temporal manipulation. It just seemed less risky to him that way.
He’d learned as much as he could about all three of the events prior to witnessing them personally, mostly because there was every chance that he could be detected when he went there in person. That was why he didn’t go. Instead, he sent a copy to the weeks preceding the actual confrontation, and then another to the days following it.
Two other pairs went to examine the other possible ambush sites, and the real Nym waited in his sanctuary, impatient and nervous and a bit twitchy. A part of him kept expecting an Exarch to knock down the walls at any moment. Surely, they must have noticed him, must have caught one of his copies, or all of them, and squeezed every bit of information out of them.
That didn’t happen, of course, but the copies took their time coming back. That was a bit of an issue for Nym, since if they didn’t return, and with no scry link, he wouldn’t get their memories, but he would still have spent precious time in the core reality scouting. If things took a turn for the worst, he wouldn’t be able to visit those days again, and he’d have nothing to show for it.
He’d weighed that risk against the risk of going in person, and decided that he could always continue to extend his anchor out and look for new opportunities, even if it would be harder since his target was now aware of Nym. But if he got caught scouting out the battlefield, that was likely it for him.
So he waited, and he worried.
* * *
Past Nym stood in a little town about a hundred fifty years earlier than he’d encountered it in his mortal life. At the time, Thrakus was barely more than a crossroads town with a well-established farmers’ market. Its central position brought in traders, merchants, and tinkerers by wagon, and many a caravan left with significantly less diversity in its loads, having swapped their cargo for grains, crops, and meat.
Somehow, it still smelled just as bad despite being less than a hundredth of its future size. Nym really didn’t get that one, since it wasn’t a market day and there were precisely zero farm animals in sight. The smell just lingered in the air anyway. It should have been impossible. The only reasonable explanation was that the land was under some sort of manure-based curse.
He was sure that he was correct, despite having no evidence to support his theory. Obviously an extremely powerful ascendant had laid the curse down, then made it invisible to all senses, even ascendant-sight. How and why that had happened was a mystery for the ages.
While Nym was standing there, a man walked by and gave him a weird look. Nym’s nose twitched as the aroma following the man wafted past him. He now had two possible theories, both equally likely.
With a shake of his head, he reminded himself that he had actual business to attend to. The fight between the two Exarchs would happen about fifty miles southwest of Thrakus, and would be remembered as the worst storm to ever rock the region. In actuality, it was barely more than a scuffle between the immortals, the ascendant equivalent of throwing a handful of mud at someone’s back. But Myzalik would be there, and that was the important part.
Nym didn’t think it was a good ambush spot. His target would be in an open sky, clearly facing Niramyn, and unless Nym managed to find a way to dual cast a spell he could barely do once at a time, whichever one of them he didn’t target was going to tear him apart. If he could bring his total parallel processes up past forty or so, it might be possible to hit them both at once.
That would require him to get to at least the tenth layer, maybe the eleventh. Even then, he wasn’t completely sure it was possible. Twenty-four was already pushing it. No, if he didn’t want to spend the five or six centuries as a hermit, he needed a scenario that let him come at Myzalik alone, with nobody else ever finding out it was him that had killed the Exarch.
Nym was about to go back to the sixth layer when his nose caught a familiar smell. Just down the street, a pair of entrepreneuring men had set up some kind of grill and were busy roasting meat on it. One was about the same age that Nym appeared to be, and the other was likely a father judging by the fact that he was in his late thirties and looked remarkably similar.
Nym strode over and eyed up the workstation they’d set up. “Steaks?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Yes sir,” the younger one said. “Shield and a half will get you a nice cut.”
He didn’t have any money on him, of course. Nym had stopped caring about gold and silver the moment he ascended, but it was easy enough to cast a quick scry and confirm the shape of the coins, then create a few inside his pocket. He pulled out two shields and laid them into the waiting hands of the father.
“If this is half as good as it smells, you can keep the change,” Nym said.
“Mighty generous of you, sir.”
“Not at all. I think this is going to be worth every last shim.”
“I hope you still think so in a few minutes. This one is almost ready.”
Nym waited near the grill and made small talk while the meat sizzled. “Unusual to smell something this good just on the side of the road. I would have expected you to be working in a restaurant.”
“I wish,” the young one said while he poked at the steak. “Something of a dream for Pop n’ me, you know? But, money…”
“Makes the world go around,” Nym agreed. “What would you call the place if you did ever open your own restaurant?”
“That’s a good question,” the father said. “What was it you said last week, Baram?”
“The restaurant name? Hmm… I had a good one, what was it?”
Nym’s breath hitched. If his guess was right, Baram would have a familiar idea. Oblivious to Nym’s sharpened interest, the boy pulled the steak off the grill and plated it. “Here you go, sir.”
Nym cut a bite off and put it in his mouth. It wasn’t exactly like he remembered, but then, there would be at least six generations between now and when he came back to Thrakus in the future. That was plenty of time for things to change.
“Delicious,” he pronounced. “Food this good brings back many fond memories. I might take another one.”
The father of the duo let out a belly laugh and said, “I won’t turn down the business, but maybe you should finish this one before you decide to buy a second.”
“So what was your restaurant name’s idea?” Nym said as he cut off another piece.
“Slipped my mind,” Baram confessed. “Something to do with horses, I think. Quarter-something.”
“A quarter horse?” Baram’s father asked.
“Might have been,” the boy agreed easily.
“How about Quarter House instead,” Nym said casually.
“Hey, that’s not bad! Yeah, if we had a restaurant, we could call it the Quarter House.”
“If we had the money,” the father said. “Which, that’ll never happen. So we have this grill set up instead.”
“You make a lot of money off this thing?” Nym asked. He was really hoping the answer was yes.
“Nah. It’s hard to gauge how much meat to bring, and if we overstock, we’ve got no way to store it. Most days we make a bit of profit, but a slow day will kill a whole week’s worth of sales.”
Nym chewed his steak thoughtfully, then said, “If that’s the case, why do it?”
“That’s my fault,” Baram said. “I love to cook, but if I didn’t sell them, we’d bleed ourselves dry off the ingredients.”
He could fix that, if he wanted. A whole sack of gold crests would solve all those problems, but he had no idea how to just casually deliver that. He could hand it to them, but there would be questions there. Alternatively, he could hide it for them to find. They’d still have questions, but at that point he wouldn’t be around to answer them. As long as they didn’t connect their sudden windfall to him, it probably wouldn’t screw with the timeline much.
Or he could just thank them for the meal and leave. The Quarter House did exist in the future, somehow, and would continue to do so regardless of his interference, unless of course the very reason it existed was because of his interference.
“What do you think the chances are of you ever being able to open your own restaurant?” Nym asked.
He already knew the answer, but his heart still sank a little when both of them just shook their heads. “It’s a fun dream, but that’s all it is,” Baram’s father said.
“That’s too bad. I’m sure it would be a successful business, the way your son cooks.”
Nym scanned through the future to see where the duo would return to at the end of the day and, after locating the farm, started checking for a good hiding place. There was no way he was risking the Quarter House not existing in his time. Eventually, he found a spot where the wall was going to collapse in three years when one of their goats smacked into the outside of the house. Smiling to himself, Nym deposited a sack of gold crests he conjured up inside it.
He flipped another shield over to Baram, who barely noticed it in time to catch it. “What’s this?” the boy asked.
“Keep the dream alive,” Nym said. “You’ve got talent.”
He made his goodbyes and walked away. Even if there was no opening to get at Myzalik in this time period, it had been worth the trip.
* * *
The original Nym smiled to himself when he finished processing the past copy’s memories. The Quarter House had been a staple of more than a few good memories. Without it, he might not have ever joined up with the Earth Shapers, which had arguably been some of the happiest weeks of his life.
Good feelings aside, he was a bit disappointed to learn just exactly how utterly unsuited for an ambush the encounter between Exarchs in the past was. Hopefully he’d get better news from the other two groups of Nyms, but neither had returned yet. He generously assumed that was because those conflicts were more complicated and there was more to investigate.
Then the future Nyms returned. Both of them had grim looks on their faces. “That bad?” Nym asked.
“It’s pretty rough. We agreed it’s a last resort situation, only if the other two possible attack sites are completely unsuited.”
“We think there’s about a thirty second window, but we’re going to have to majorly brush up on ward breaking if we’re going to take advantage of it.”
“Past Nyms already came back in,” Nym said. “It’s not possible to make it work there unless we get strong enough to dual cast the god killer spell and hit them both at the same time.”
“Let’s hope Present Nym comes back with better news then.”
“Yeah, otherwise we’re screwed for the foreseeable future.”
Of his three possible ambush points, Nym most wanted the one that took place a hundred years in the future from what he considered to be ‘present day’ to be the one that worked. He was fully aware that what time he struck in the core reality would have no difference on when Myzalik’s existence unraveled in the outer layers, but Nym was far from an expert on temporal manipulation. It just seemed less risky to him that way.
He’d learned as much as he could about all three of the events prior to witnessing them personally, mostly because there was every chance that he could be detected when he went there in person. That was why he didn’t go. Instead, he sent a copy to the weeks preceding the actual confrontation, and then another to the days following it.
Two other pairs went to examine the other possible ambush sites, and the real Nym waited in his sanctuary, impatient and nervous and a bit twitchy. A part of him kept expecting an Exarch to knock down the walls at any moment. Surely, they must have noticed him, must have caught one of his copies, or all of them, and squeezed every bit of information out of them.
That didn’t happen, of course, but the copies took their time coming back. That was a bit of an issue for Nym, since if they didn’t return, and with no scry link, he wouldn’t get their memories, but he would still have spent precious time in the core reality scouting. If things took a turn for the worst, he wouldn’t be able to visit those days again, and he’d have nothing to show for it.
He’d weighed that risk against the risk of going in person, and decided that he could always continue to extend his anchor out and look for new opportunities, even if it would be harder since his target was now aware of Nym. But if he got caught scouting out the battlefield, that was likely it for him.
So he waited, and he worried.
* * *
Past Nym stood in a little town about a hundred fifty years earlier than he’d encountered it in his mortal life. At the time, Thrakus was barely more than a crossroads town with a well-established farmers’ market. Its central position brought in traders, merchants, and tinkerers by wagon, and many a caravan left with significantly less diversity in its loads, having swapped their cargo for grains, crops, and meat.
Somehow, it still smelled just as bad despite being less than a hundredth of its future size. Nym really didn’t get that one, since it wasn’t a market day and there were precisely zero farm animals in sight. The smell just lingered in the air anyway. It should have been impossible. The only reasonable explanation was that the land was under some sort of manure-based curse.
He was sure that he was correct, despite having no evidence to support his theory. Obviously an extremely powerful ascendant had laid the curse down, then made it invisible to all senses, even ascendant-sight. How and why that had happened was a mystery for the ages.
While Nym was standing there, a man walked by and gave him a weird look. Nym’s nose twitched as the aroma following the man wafted past him. He now had two possible theories, both equally likely.
With a shake of his head, he reminded himself that he had actual business to attend to. The fight between the two Exarchs would happen about fifty miles southwest of Thrakus, and would be remembered as the worst storm to ever rock the region. In actuality, it was barely more than a scuffle between the immortals, the ascendant equivalent of throwing a handful of mud at someone’s back. But Myzalik would be there, and that was the important part.
Nym didn’t think it was a good ambush spot. His target would be in an open sky, clearly facing Niramyn, and unless Nym managed to find a way to dual cast a spell he could barely do once at a time, whichever one of them he didn’t target was going to tear him apart. If he could bring his total parallel processes up past forty or so, it might be possible to hit them both at once.
That would require him to get to at least the tenth layer, maybe the eleventh. Even then, he wasn’t completely sure it was possible. Twenty-four was already pushing it. No, if he didn’t want to spend the five or six centuries as a hermit, he needed a scenario that let him come at Myzalik alone, with nobody else ever finding out it was him that had killed the Exarch.
Nym was about to go back to the sixth layer when his nose caught a familiar smell. Just down the street, a pair of entrepreneuring men had set up some kind of grill and were busy roasting meat on it. One was about the same age that Nym appeared to be, and the other was likely a father judging by the fact that he was in his late thirties and looked remarkably similar.
Nym strode over and eyed up the workstation they’d set up. “Steaks?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.
“Yes sir,” the younger one said. “Shield and a half will get you a nice cut.”
He didn’t have any money on him, of course. Nym had stopped caring about gold and silver the moment he ascended, but it was easy enough to cast a quick scry and confirm the shape of the coins, then create a few inside his pocket. He pulled out two shields and laid them into the waiting hands of the father.
“If this is half as good as it smells, you can keep the change,” Nym said.
“Mighty generous of you, sir.”
“Not at all. I think this is going to be worth every last shim.”
“I hope you still think so in a few minutes. This one is almost ready.”
Nym waited near the grill and made small talk while the meat sizzled. “Unusual to smell something this good just on the side of the road. I would have expected you to be working in a restaurant.”
“I wish,” the young one said while he poked at the steak. “Something of a dream for Pop n’ me, you know? But, money…”
“Makes the world go around,” Nym agreed. “What would you call the place if you did ever open your own restaurant?”
“That’s a good question,” the father said. “What was it you said last week, Baram?”
“The restaurant name? Hmm… I had a good one, what was it?”
Nym’s breath hitched. If his guess was right, Baram would have a familiar idea. Oblivious to Nym’s sharpened interest, the boy pulled the steak off the grill and plated it. “Here you go, sir.”
Nym cut a bite off and put it in his mouth. It wasn’t exactly like he remembered, but then, there would be at least six generations between now and when he came back to Thrakus in the future. That was plenty of time for things to change.
“Delicious,” he pronounced. “Food this good brings back many fond memories. I might take another one.”
The father of the duo let out a belly laugh and said, “I won’t turn down the business, but maybe you should finish this one before you decide to buy a second.”
“So what was your restaurant name’s idea?” Nym said as he cut off another piece.
“Slipped my mind,” Baram confessed. “Something to do with horses, I think. Quarter-something.”
“A quarter horse?” Baram’s father asked.
“Might have been,” the boy agreed easily.
“How about Quarter House instead,” Nym said casually.
“Hey, that’s not bad! Yeah, if we had a restaurant, we could call it the Quarter House.”
“If we had the money,” the father said. “Which, that’ll never happen. So we have this grill set up instead.”
“You make a lot of money off this thing?” Nym asked. He was really hoping the answer was yes.
“Nah. It’s hard to gauge how much meat to bring, and if we overstock, we’ve got no way to store it. Most days we make a bit of profit, but a slow day will kill a whole week’s worth of sales.”
Nym chewed his steak thoughtfully, then said, “If that’s the case, why do it?”
“That’s my fault,” Baram said. “I love to cook, but if I didn’t sell them, we’d bleed ourselves dry off the ingredients.”
He could fix that, if he wanted. A whole sack of gold crests would solve all those problems, but he had no idea how to just casually deliver that. He could hand it to them, but there would be questions there. Alternatively, he could hide it for them to find. They’d still have questions, but at that point he wouldn’t be around to answer them. As long as they didn’t connect their sudden windfall to him, it probably wouldn’t screw with the timeline much.
Or he could just thank them for the meal and leave. The Quarter House did exist in the future, somehow, and would continue to do so regardless of his interference, unless of course the very reason it existed was because of his interference.
“What do you think the chances are of you ever being able to open your own restaurant?” Nym asked.
He already knew the answer, but his heart still sank a little when both of them just shook their heads. “It’s a fun dream, but that’s all it is,” Baram’s father said.
“That’s too bad. I’m sure it would be a successful business, the way your son cooks.”
Nym scanned through the future to see where the duo would return to at the end of the day and, after locating the farm, started checking for a good hiding place. There was no way he was risking the Quarter House not existing in his time. Eventually, he found a spot where the wall was going to collapse in three years when one of their goats smacked into the outside of the house. Smiling to himself, Nym deposited a sack of gold crests he conjured up inside it.
He flipped another shield over to Baram, who barely noticed it in time to catch it. “What’s this?” the boy asked.
“Keep the dream alive,” Nym said. “You’ve got talent.”
He made his goodbyes and walked away. Even if there was no opening to get at Myzalik in this time period, it had been worth the trip.
* * *
The original Nym smiled to himself when he finished processing the past copy’s memories. The Quarter House had been a staple of more than a few good memories. Without it, he might not have ever joined up with the Earth Shapers, which had arguably been some of the happiest weeks of his life.
Good feelings aside, he was a bit disappointed to learn just exactly how utterly unsuited for an ambush the encounter between Exarchs in the past was. Hopefully he’d get better news from the other two groups of Nyms, but neither had returned yet. He generously assumed that was because those conflicts were more complicated and there was more to investigate.
Then the future Nyms returned. Both of them had grim looks on their faces. “That bad?” Nym asked.
“It’s pretty rough. We agreed it’s a last resort situation, only if the other two possible attack sites are completely unsuited.”
“We think there’s about a thirty second window, but we’re going to have to majorly brush up on ward breaking if we’re going to take advantage of it.”
“Past Nyms already came back in,” Nym said. “It’s not possible to make it work there unless we get strong enough to dual cast the god killer spell and hit them both at the same time.”
“Let’s hope Present Nym comes back with better news then.”
“Yeah, otherwise we’re screwed for the foreseeable future.”
