Chapter Twelve, Part Three: No Country For Old MenMature

That smile. The Assassin had seen it consume countless millions on the day Lord Rassilon’s daughter, yet unborn, had perished of the Pythia’s Curse. That Death lies hungry and watchful beneath that gaze is indisruptable, a fact of simple nature. 

“Oh yes, insect. I want you to go back to your cell and ask for the Master. Tell him these exact words. ‘The Other is alive and I know who he is.’ Not only will such an insouciant bluff give you an excuse to be walking around outside the prison, it will get you a position as Cardinal, as well.” 

The Assassin become Cardinal, as well! Oh what a place to plot his mischief!

 “Remember, my little rat with wings, as you are playing house and waiting for your chance to swoop from the rafters, I shall go and listen in the Panopticon. No one minds a fool. They do as they want, and go as they please.” 

“I’ve noticed you around the cells. Also, I’ve fashioned two more teleport-capable micro-shimmers like my own from the bits the brat gave me, as well as two shimmer-enabled slave nodes. One is hidden in my cell; the other is for quick egress off-planet.  He and his Lady are both idiots, of course, but I didn’t want either of them thinking. Therefore, would you be so kind as to gift him one? They should work in the Panopticon… you are aware of the pod stuck in the ceiling? It is still functional. I get a faint reading, even from here. If you place the node on the Seal, My Lord… the rest is elemental.” 

“Of course. How thoughtful of you.”

The End

0 comments about this story Feed