In Plain Sight

Iggy sat down on the bed, his eyes staring blankly at the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he asked, his voice almost gentle. Alex crossed to the bed and knelt down to look him in the face.

“You know what would have happened if that castle had landed anywhere near Empire Tower,” he pointed out. The old man was far too smart to have any doubts what the result of that catastrophe would be. “If I’d just used my escape rune, I’d have come right back here in time for an explosion more powerful than any in history to turn this house and you and me, Danny, Leslie, Mary, and everyone else into a fine powder.”

Iggy nodded his head, but words seemed to fail him. Alex knew he was living that long moment that Alex had faced in Sorsha’s vault. A moment that led to one, and only one, inescapable conclusion.

“Remember what you told me when I asked you why anyone would ever use a life rune?”

Iggy nodded. “I’d rather lose some of my life, than all of it,” he quoted himself. Alex smiled at him.

“I don’t know how much time I’ve got left,” he said. “But then nobody does really. I could get trampled by a crawler tomorrow. At least, if I do, everyone on that crawler will be alive because Sorsha’s castle didn’t fall on Empire Tower.”

Iggy put his hand on Alex’s good shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You should never have had to be the hero.”

“Maybe they’ll throw me a parade,” Alex chuckled.

“The newspapers are claiming that Miss Kincaid moved her castle out to sea for repairs,” Iggy said. “Apparently the government is hushing the whole thing up.”

“That’s okay.” Alex chuckled again and regretted it instantly, as pain blossomed in his mending ribs. “I hate parades.”

Alex started to rise, but Iggy held on to his shoulder.

“You’re right,” he said. “None of us know what time is left to us. In the interest of that sentiment, there are some things I want you to know.” He paused and blinked, his eyes bright. “I’ve always thought of you like a son. The son I never had.”

“Iggy, you had a son,” Alex pointed out, a little embarrassed. “He paid for this house.”

“Don’t mistake me,” he said. “I loved my son. I couldn’t be prouder of him if I tried. But he didn’t have the gift. I always wanted a son I could share my trade with. Someone I could teach the things I’ve learned, the secrets I’ve discovered. When my son died, I was devastated. No father should ever have to outlive his child. After I came here, I didn’t know what to do with myself, but then I found you hawing runes on a street corner. It didn’t take long for me to know you were worthy to be my heir.”

Alex put his hand on Iggy’s shoulder.

“Thank you, Ignatius,” he murmured. That means a lot.”

“Don’t you see?” Iggy said. “I’ve already lost one son. How can I bear to lose another?”

Alex stood up and pulled the old man to his feet.

“You haven’t lost me yet,” he said. “So, if my time is short, let’s not waste it. Let’s go get something to eat and we’ll go see Father Harry off. Then, when we get back here, we can talk about the rest.”

Iggy hesitated, then he patted Alex’s arm and withdrew downstairs.

Watching him go, Alex felt a pang of guilt. He’d done what had to be done, there was no doubt about that. Hundreds of thousands of people would have died if he hadn’t used his escape rune. It had cost him a good chunk of his own life, but he didn’t regret that. If he hadn’t done it, he would have been dead anyway.

What he regretted, standing alone in his room, was that he had hurt Iggy.

Pushing that thought from his mind, Alex headed for the shower. When he caught sight of himself in the bathroom’s tiny mirror, he jumped. His hair had turned entirely white, like new-fallen snow. Whiter even than Sorsha’s platinum-blonde hair.

“Well,” he said tugging at it. “At least it’s still there.”

That would definitely take some getting used to.

In the shower, Alex examined the place where his escape rune had been tattooed. Only a fading burn mark was left. He’d wait for it to completely disappear before having it redone. That would give him time to design a new one.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Alex arrived downstairs, shaved and dressed. He’d had the presence of mind to hang on to his suit jacket when Sorsha’s castle went down, but his hat had been a loss.

“Here,” Iggy said, pulling a slightly old-fashioned fedora from the coat wardrobe by the vestibule.

“Thanks,” Alex said, putting it on and turning the brim down in front.

They made their way to The Lunch Box and then across town to a cemetery next to a little church on the far side of the Core. Only a few dozen people had turned out for the funeral of a clergyman of no great renown. As the Bishop of the Diocese droned on at the gravesite, Alex wondered if this were the kind of funeral Jesus himself received. It made him smile to think that Father Harry would have liked it. He was a simple man who went about doing what good he could, like his Master before him.