Page 11 of The Lost Empress

Gen glanced back at Papa Creola’s palette, full of an array of colors. “Oh, he’s got lots of paints. What color are you making him?”

“A brand new one,” Mama Jamba replied. “One that has never existed before. Ever.”

“Of course,” Gen said, realizing that she should have expected this answer from the creator of…well, everything. “I can’t wait to see what it looks like when you’re done.”

“You won’t be able to see it with your eyes, dear,” Mama Jamba stated matter-of-factly. “You might be able to taste it or smell it, but it very well will be outside your sensory awareness.”

“That makes sense,” Gen said, turning her attention to the grumpy Protector of Weapons. “I need your help and I really hope that you can help me.” She withdrew Bellumferrum from her pocket and held it out in her hand for Subner to see.

He flicked his gaze to the small, black cube and shook his head. “I can’t help you to fix that, only you can…”

CHAPTER NINE

THE COOKIE CRUMB TRAIL OF DESTINY

The Fantastical Armory, Roya Lane, London, England, United Kingdom

“What do you mean, I’m the only one who can fix Bellumferrum?” Gen questioned, still holding the small, obsidian cube out in the palm of her hand and staring intently at Subner. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Subner said, returning his focus to his book.

“Of course there is,” Gen argued, holding up the Weapon of War. “It won’t keep a form when I use it. Instead it cycles through several different weapons, shifting at random.”

“Sounds like a personal problem to me,” he said, dryly, his attention all on the pages of his book.

Gen stomped over, slamming the stone cube onto the glass counter, making a loud sound and the surface shake. “What’s wrong with Bellumferrum?”

Unhurried, Subner brought his dark eyes up and met her. “Nothing.”

“Then why is it acting strange?” she questioned through clenched teeth.

“It isn’t,” he replied, not blinking. “It’s doing exactly what it was intended to do and following the intention of its master.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her mouth falling open as confusion settled over her. “What?”

Subner sighed, shutting his book rather reluctantly. “You’re unsettled. You don’t have a purpose. And therefore, Bellumferrum doesn’t have a clear intention to follow. So it’s shifting randomly, following the whims of your confusion.”

Suddenly Gen felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She was out of breath. Light-headed. But what Subner said absolutely made sense.

“My boss won’t let me work any cases and is trying to make me quit because of who I am,” she said. “He’s assigned me tons of training and I feel that I’m never going to be done with it. I feel hopeless.”

“Do you see a couch in here?” Subner mumbled, reopening his book.

Gen looked around, confused. “No, why?”

“I’m not a therapist and I don’t care,” Subner replied. “I’m simply telling you why Bellumferrum is shifting often. It’s you.”

“So what do I do?” Gen asked.

Subner turned the page of his book. “Try getting a life.”

Gen picked up the black cube with symbols and held it up in her fist. “Help me. Tell me how to fix this problem. I need a weapon.”

“It sounds like you don’t, actually,” he said indifferently.

She huffed. “Why do you have to be so difficult? Why can’t you simply tell me what I have to do to make Bellumferrum work properly.”

He glanced up at her, his face like made of stone. “I have tried. You’re not listening.”

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