Heroics for Beginners by John Moore

Author:John Moore [Moore, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Heroes, General, Talismans, Fiction
ISBN: 9780739448502
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 2004-04-14T23:00:00+00:00

"Yes, that's what Stan said."

"Of course, the production model will be a sealed unit, so dust won't be a problem. But since this is the prototype, we constantly have to open it up and make adjustments."

"Yes, his words exactly. 'Make sure no dust gets into the Diabolical Device,' he said."

Mercredi stood up and fished a brass key from his jacket. "It's a restricted access area. I'll have to let you in." He opened the office door and led Kevin down yet another hallway. Since Kevin had come in through a ventilation duct, this left him even more disoriented. They went around several corners and by the time they reached a heavy set of double doors, the Prince was completely lost.

They were thick, solid security doors, oak reinforced with iron bands, with a heavy lock. The doors alone told you that something important was inside. Then, next to the door, a burly guard sat behind a desk. He looked at their ID badges, noted the time on a nearby clock, and wrote down the badge numbers on a clipboard. "We all have to log in and out of the phlogistocation chamber," Mercredi explained. He unlocked one side of the double doors, entered, and motioned for Kevin to follow him. But Kevin stopped in the doorway. For it took a moment to absorb what he was seeing.

He realized now that he was in the circular tower that could be seen from outside the Fortress.

It rose some sixty feet from floor to ceiling. All around the base were tall windows, so that all of the surrounding country could be kept under observation. The inside of the room held a machine.

In his university days the Prince had been required to take a course in philosophy. The course had touched on Plato's discussion of ideal images. Chairs, for example, came in all shapes, sizes, and styles, yet people were always able to recognize a chair when they saw one. Plato said this was because the mind contained an image of the ideal chair, from which all other chairs were derived.

Kevin hadn't given this much consideration. Now he decided there must be some truth in it. He had never seen a Diabolical Device, not even a picture of one, nor had he even heard one described. Yet he instantly realized that the thing he was staring at—staring at with horrified fascination—was a Diabolical Device.

He blinked and looked away. It's just your imagination, he told himself. The Device is not horrifying. It's just a machine, neither good nor bad in itself, a collection of innocent gears, cogs, and—um—those round spinning things. And yet there was something evil about this machine, something in the streaky blackness of the cast iron, something in the glint of the polished brass fittings, something in the twisted array of copper tubes that told the observer, "This is a machine with a bad attitude."

"See what I mean?" Mercredi tapped an access panel. "How can you expect precision work with all this dust?"

"Yes, I can see that would be a problem.

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