It was a dream, and dreams had their own rules, which allowed for the possibility of conversations between the seen and the unseen. The first speaker was only a voice, but the other person was visible and familiar, very familiar. It was Professor Malveaux.

“Wealth?” he queried, looking into the distance with his arms folded. He did not look as if he had lost his sanity. He was merely engaged in monologue. “I have more than I need. I am too old and comfortable in my solitude to wish for a companion, however beautiful. And as for immortality . . .” His gesture encompassed the world around him and dismissed it with a quick, careless wave. “Useless! Everything changes, everything dies—peoples and worlds and suns.”

“What if you could be immortal in a place where nothing dies?”

The professor turned his head slightly, betraying a hint of interest and attention. The invisible tempter paused patiently and let the silence do its work on the old man’s mind.

“What could the price for that be, I wonder?” Malveaux asked eventually, shrugging off his temporary lapse into considering the unspeakable. His heavy cynicism was a little too world-weary. It begged to be convinced, and the tempter heard his cue.

“Oh, not the usual at all. You’d get to keep your soul, for one.”

“Really?” The word vibrated with deep sarcasm and distrust.

“And yet the price is higher . . . but it would be paid by others.”

“Indeed? Would I have to sacrifice a few innocents in some kind of disgusting and no doubt meaningless ritual? Is that how you got at poor Walther, promising him immortality?”

“No. His mind barely touches this reality. He tries to find patterns and meanings for his own urges. I am speaking about something entirely different.”

Malveaux balked, shaking his head. “My soul, should you yield it, is not enough. Immortality, could you grant it, is not enough. I want . . . I want to be able to continue my work for as long as I’m needed, here in the City or anywhere else. And I want Walther mended. He deserves a chance to redeem his soul, and he’s never had a moment of clear thought to do so. I want him freed of his demons.”

The other paused for a moment before answering, “Yes.”

The professor’s eyes opened wide in triumph and disappointment. “You lie. There are some things you can’t do. I thought so.”

“I do not lie,” claimed the unknown one. “I cannot.”

“No, no, of course not,” Malveaux muttered. “But that does not mean that you tell the truth.” He sighed deeply. “I will stay as I am. Hallucination, nightmare, or demon, whatever you may be, I have entertained your presence for far too long.”