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Stories from the Verse
Con Version
Chapter 100: Brown 317
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Cooper 32
Confronted by the confusion that his New Orleans friends could not see that separate was not equal, that the racial and other divisions in their society inherently created tensions and gave opportunity to the Devil who was trying to destroy what good they had, Derek had prayed. Suddenly the world around him had stopped, and Mister Pierre Hunter was standing in front of him.
“I’m--” He flapped his hands, near weeping.
“I know, I know. You had to come to this moment.” The voice was gentle and warm and the Cajun accent almost impenetrable. Pierre Hunter smiled at him kindly, although part of Derek’s brain recognized that the man cast no shadow.
“I--” He flung his hand back toward the quartet he had just left behind. Pierre Hunter shook his aged head with mild reproof. Derek dropped his hand. “What should I do?” he asked quietly.
“That’s the right question, son. See, God Almighty, the King as you call him, he knows that as a verser, you’re going to obtain vast powers. There are versers, I am told, who have shattered continents, destroyed space fleets, and invaded the very realms infernal. But in order not to wreak harm with these powers, you need to be refined. Know what that means, son?”
Derek’s face fell. “It means pain.”
Mister Pierre Hunter nodded. “The King is not going to force you. You can go on the way you’ve gone and likely enough you could win against the Devil here. Maybe not. I have not been given a look at the Books of the Future so I’m just going with my own guess. But I like what you’ve done.”
Derek could recognize the buildup before one was asked to volunteer for something highly unpleasant.
He prayed again. “I’m scared. So scared. I thought I had everything under control tonight. I thought I had all the answers, and now I find, I find I don’t know what I find.”
I will be with you, until the end of the world, and since it's you, beyond the end of worlds.
The words came, and they brought comfort in that he knew the King cared, but he knew this was going to hurt, and the King was asking him ‘let me toss you in a fiery pot and melt you until your weaknesses are boiled to the top where they can be skimmed off.’ None of that sounded remotely like fun. He opened his eyes, and Mister Hunter was just standing patiently there. He looked over at the four, who still stood frozen.
“I--?”
“Will be returned to this exact moment and place.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Derek said. “Let’s do it.”
As to the old stories that have long been here:
