The Dying of the Light. Derek LandyЧитать онлайн книгу.
Tarry nodded. “His work was just … it was far beyond any of his contemporaries. I never liked the man, I was always far too jealous of his accomplishments. That’s something I could never have admitted without this Remnant inside me, by the way.” He chuckled, and didn’t seem to notice when Darquesse didn’t join in. “But his mind was an astonishing thing. His work, his research … Even the questions he posed in his field outshone the answers I got in mine. If you truly wanted to master this thing called magic, if you truly wanted to touch infinity … I would have said talk to D’Essai. Talk to Argeddion. But, of course, now it’s too late.”
“Argeddion is alive,” said Darquesse.
Tarry frowned. “No. He’s dead. Skulduggery Pleasant killed him when—”
Darquesse spoke over him, her words calm. “Officially, Argeddion died following the confrontation with those super-powered hooligans he’d created. Skulduggery finished him off. That’s the story that was circulated.”
Tarry sat forward. “It’s a lie?”
“They couldn’t kill him,” Darquesse said. “They didn’t know how. So they rewrote his personality, convinced him he was normal, and hid him away. Even I don’t know where he is now.”
Tarry was quiet for a moment. “The Hessian Grimoire,” he said. “That should help you find him.”
“How?”
“You have a deep understanding of energy, Darquesse. Your understanding might even surpass my own.”
“Oh,” said Darquesse, “it does.”
A faint flicker of irritation crossed Tarry’s features. Sanguine noticed it. And if Sanguine noticed it, then Darquesse certainly did. That faint flicker of irritation had most likely just signed Mr Tarry’s death warrant.
“But once you read that book,” Tarry continued, “you will know how to detect and track energy. Argeddion found out his true name, the same as you. For all intents and purposes, he is lit up like a beacon – providing you know how to look for him.”
“The Hessian Grimoire sounds like the answer to all my prayers,” Darquesse said. “Thank you, Nestor. You have been most helpful.”
Tarry stood, but wavered. Finally, he plucked up the courage to ask, “Can I come with you? When you find Argeddion, I mean. You’ll need a Remnant to possess him, won’t you? So he’ll talk? I would do anything for the opportunity to peek inside his mind. He is … astonishing.”
“He is,” said Darquesse. “But I’ll just have to use my other Remnant to possess him. I’ve kind of grown bored with you.”
Tarry paled, making his black veins stand out even more. “What?”
“You’ve just rubbed me up the wrong way,” Darquesse explained.
“I … I’m sorry. I apologise. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not your fault,” said Darquesse as she got to her feet. “It’s mine. I’m probably just overly sensitive. I’ve only been studying quantum mechanics for a few days, and … I don’t know. Any kind of criticism or – what’s the word? – irritation shown is just … it’s more than I’m prepared to accept right now.”
Tarry backed away. “I wasn’t irritated. I wasn’t, I swear. And I would never criticise you. Never. The amount you’ve learned in such a short space of time is hugely, hugely impressive.”
Darquesse narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I do not like being patronised.”
She raised her hand and Tarry exploded into nothingness.
Sanguine jerked back in astonishment. No blood, no meat, no bones. Nothing.
“There,” Darquesse said, a smile on her face once again. “I feel so much better now.”
“What did you do to him?” Sanguine asked. “Where is he?”
“He’s still here,” said Darquesse, her fingers playing lightly against the air. “His atoms are spread out around the room. It’s funny, isn’t it? Group all those atoms together and Nestor has a body. Separate them, and you have to ask where he’s gone. I can put him back together, if you’d like.”
“You could do that?”
“Sure. I think. Putting things back together is a lot harder than pulling them apart, but I’ll do my best.”
Darquesse chewed her bottom lip as she focused. A moment passed, and she closed her fist, and Tarry reappeared, blurring into existence. He staggered, eyes glassy, and dropped to his knees.
“He’s in shock,” said Darquesse. “Either that or he’s a vegetable. The brain is tricky. I can see how the body reassembles, how the nervous system fits, but the brain will take a little more practice. Want a seat?”
Sanguine looked at her. “Sorry?”
“A seat,” she said. “You want one? You look tired.”
Before he could answer, she had splayed her hand and Tarry exploded into nothingness once more. This time when she closed her fist, however, a chair blurred into being.
“There,” Darquesse said.
“Did you … did you just turn him into a chair?”
“Yes I did,” said Darquesse, grinning. “Atoms are atoms. It’s all about what you do with them and how you arrange them. Man gets turned into a chair. Chair gets turned into a glass of water. It’s still Nestor, though. He’s still there. I haven’t killed him.”
“You turned him into furniture.”
“It’s just another form to take.”
“I’m gonna have to disagree with you on that one, Darquesse. He’s dead. You killed him. Where are his memories? His personality? Where are all the things that define him?”
Darquesse tilted her head. “None of that stuff defines us, Billy-Ray. Memories can be lost. Personalities can be changed. Who we are, our true essence, is our energy. If I wanted to kill him, I’d just do it.”
She clicked her fingers and the chair was incinerated in a burst of black flame.
“There,” said Darquesse. “Happy now? Nestor is dead. Every last trace of him. His atoms, his energy – gone. He can’t be brought back now. That’s how you kill someone, Billy-Ray. You wipe them from existence. Stopping a heart from beating, cutting off thoughts, turning someone into something … that doesn’t mean anything. Consciousness doesn’t mean anything. Are you any more valuable than a rock, just because you have sentience? No you’re not.”
“But you’re still punishing Erskine Ravel for killing Ghastly Bespoke.”
“That’s different,” said Darquesse. “I’m punishing him out of anger.”
“So what about your friends?” Sanguine said. “Tanith, or China Sorrows, or Skulduggery Pleasant? You’ve formed attachments to them, right? You value them more than you’d value a rock.”
Darquesse shrugged. “Not really. That was my old way of looking at things. Personalities are fun for a while, but when you think about it, and I mean really think about it, they’re just side effects of brain function. I don’t mean I don’t value them at all, it’s just not so much of a big deal to me any more.”
“So … so you’d turn them into furniture, too?”
“Sure. I could turn you into a cushion, if you want.”
“Please don’t. I don’t wanna be a cushion.”
She laughed. “If you were a cushion, you wouldn’t know any better. What would you miss? Your thoughts? Cushions don’t sit there missing their thoughts,