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“Indeed. But they were invested in how the science of the looms could benefit their businesses. They sold us on their concern about the world, the people, their customers. I recognized the greed in them.”
“But you missed their ambition to use the looms as a fountain of youth,” Dante points out.
“Having never been obsessed with such a ludicrous notion, I did. I fancied myself a man of science, not a man looking for glory and immortality. It never occurred to me,” Albert says.
“But how did they do it then? If you didn’t help?” I ask.
“Not every one of the scientists shared my ideals, but many of them shared my intelligence. Men like Cormac and Kincaid hung around asking questions—not to explore how the looms could be used to their advantage, but to ascertain who among the scientists could help them achieve these possible benefits.”
“So one of your men turned on you.” It’s Valery who points this out.
“Yes, my lady. The officials established who would help them in their grand plans and set it in motion in secret laboratories in Arras.”
“And they made themselves immortal,” I say.
“That is not entirely correct.” Albert stops me. “To truly be immortal, you would have to be nearly untouchable. They are still vulnerable to disease and injury.”
“But they have those who can alter and patch them into health.”
“Yes, but their so-called immortality skirts a fine line. It can be taken in an instant.”
“So Cormac can be killed,” I say.
“He can,” Albert confirms. “Do you feel it necessary?”
“How else can we liberate the people? Separate Earth from Arras?” Dante cries, the words a fervent verdict of Cormac’s fate. “The Guild’s time is up.”
Albert holds my gaze. He’s not asking us a practical question, he’s asking me an ethical one. He’s asking me to look inside myself and see how far I’m willing to go.
“If we separated the worlds, Arras would have to learn to depend on its own resources. There would be upheaval. Change,” I say softly.
“The course of evolution would begin again,” Albert replies.
“Does anyone have any clue what we’re talking about?” Erik asks, but Dante tells him to shut up. If the others are having trouble following, they aren’t about to interrupt.
“Where do we begin?” I ask.
“I can guide you,” Albert says, a sad smile peeking from beneath his mustache, “but it will be difficult. Arras is a parasitic universe syphoning Earth’s time and resources, but if the edges of Arras were bound and released, the composition of Earth would achieve critical mass, creating a rift in space-time that Arras could occupy, separate from Earth. It could heal. The looms would be useless then, but Arras would be self-sustaining.”
“And the Whorl can do this?” I ask in a breathless voice, trying to wrap my head around what Albert is telling us. If Arras was separated from Earth, both could survive. I wouldn’t have to choose which world to save, and I could prevent the growing threat of all-out war between them.
“The Whorl can tie the
edges of Arras together, separating them from the looms and knitting Arras’s time into an infinite weave.” Albert knits his fingers together into a circle and holds it to his eyes. “Time will flow from beginning to end in a ceaseless circle of life.”
“That’s why we need you. We need the Whorl,” Dante says.
“Ah, dear boy, I do not have the Whorl.”
“Then where is it?” Jost demands. He’s risen from his seat and he grips the mantel. His desperation to get back to Arras and save Sebrina is written in anguished lines over his face.
“The Whorl is not a thing. It is a person,” Albert says.
“You’re the Whorl,” Dante guesses.
“No,” Albert says with a shake of his head. “She is.”
His finger points directly at me.
