Part 38 (1/2)

I had collapsed upon my walking staff. Under my ”friendly” auspices, it too was spared. Slowly I hauled myself to my feet.

Veruh w.a.n.g Ho was dust at my feet. At least I was reasonably certain it was him... he... her...

Her.

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as I saw the anguish that had been reflected in her face, trying to defy that which the G.o.ds had given her in one of their typically cruel jokes. Yes. Her.

The ground was burned in all directions. I took a few steps and stopped once more. The faint wind was continuing to blow ashes all about, but I saw one thing upon the ground that seized my full attention.

Burned into the ground was a scorched silhouette. A young woman, it appeared to be, embracing what seemed to be the outline of a dragon.

Mitsu. And Mordant. All that was left of them, blasted into the ground by the force of the energies released. I didn't know why they had been singled out. Perhaps because Mordant had magic in him.

Perhaps because of where they'd been standing, or who'd been standing in front of them.

Or perhaps the G.o.ds were even bigger b.a.s.t.a.r.ds than I'd credited them.

I stood there for a long moment, waiting for the tears to start.

Waiting for something.

Nothing came.

Nothing.

And then I started to laugh.

I didn't know where it came from, or why, but I continued to laugh. I turned away from the scene of lethal devastation and started walking, and I kept on laughing until I finally figured out why.

Because I was nothing. Finally and completely, because I was nothing.

That used to upset me.

It didn't anymore. I moved through the city then. The farther I got from the blast point, the more I began to see signs of life. It had been a devastating blast, but it had not torn apart the entire city. There were survivors, many survivors.

Except they didn't appear to be happy that they had survived.

Buildings had been knocked down, flattened. Entire blocks had been obliterated. And the people...

The innocent people...

They wandered about aimlessly, or simply sat in one place and stared off into s.p.a.ce, wondering what they had done to deserve this. Many of them were horrifically burned.

I felt nothing.

I heard the sounds of children crying, of dogs barking. So much pain, so much pain.

And I felt nothing.

When I had been holding the dead Kit to my breast, I thought--in my cries that I did not care--that I had embraced the totality of nothingness. I had been wrong. I had barely scratched the surface, not even begun to realize the remarkable strength that came from utter nothingness.

I had hated the notion that I was known as Apropos of Nothing. I had wanted to have something, love something, stand for something. How typically Apropos, to want to rid myself of that which was, in fact, my greatest strength.

Something makes you weak. Something makes you second-guess. Something makes you doubt.

Something makes you love, or hate, or fear, or make mistakes.

But nothingness... in nothing, there is no love or hate or fear. Nothing never makes mistakes.

”Nothing ventured, nothing gained.””Nothing for nothing.”

”Nothing to fear.” ”Nothing matters.”

In the beginning, there is nothing. We come from nothing, we go to nothing.

The message was clear in day-to-day life, and I had been too blind to see it. Ali had tried to teach it to me, and I hadn't been fully ready to appreciate it or understand it. I had thought the strength I sought from Ali came from the sword.

It didn't. It came from nothing. The sword was simply a tool.

Nothing was impenetrable. Nothing was invincible. I had nothing to fear but something.

Darkness was nothing. One could hide in darkness, strike from darkness.

Something always bogged you down. Be it emotions or sentiment or inordinate possessions. But you were never slowed by nothing. ”What are you doing?” Nothing.

”What are you looking for?” Nothing.

”What are you thinking about?” Nothing.

”What's the matter?” Nothing.

”Ah, that d.a.m.ned son of mine! He's good for nothing!”