"Why are you doing this?"

"I told you that."

"Let's try that again. Why you?"

"I'm your father, Jack."

"But you didn't rescue me. Bear and Kun did."

"An act worthy of reward."

"You don't want to reward Bear. I heard what you said about being too late to prevent him from waking. The sorceress Nym woke him and you tried to kill her for it."

"You were overwrought at the time, Jack. I think you misunderstood what was happening. I tell you truthfully that I didn't kill her."

"But you tried."

"I concede that it appeared that way. But you should know that she is a mistress of illusion and has made a career of causing men to see almost anything other than the truth. And it is truth that Artos is a dangerous man."

"He says the same about you, only he doesn't use the word 'man.'"

Bennett shook his head ruefully. "He wouldn't. He has a memory that finds it easier to hold the bad than the good. He will probably have even less kind things to say about Nym when he learns who she is."

"And who is she?"

"Someone who has done you and me a great service. The magic released by Artos's awakening has changed the balance of energies between the realms. For that, I am grateful to her. This new balance allows me to bring you home."

"You didn't look grateful when you were tossing spells at her."

"As I said, appearances can be deceiving. She took no harm."

Could he believe that? Kun had told him that the police had found only one body, a male, the poor guy the police thought was John, But if Bennett hadn't killed Nym, what had happened to her? "So where is she? She must have woken Bear for a reason. Where is she now? Why hasn't she contacted him again? Why isn't she helping him find Cal-iburn?"

"I can't answer your questions, Jack. Nym's mind is not mine to know. She has been a little . . . strange for some years now. I must a.s.sume that she has gone about her business, whatever she conceives that to be."

"Speaking of being about one's business," Dr. Spae said from the door. The open, sunny look on her face didn't look at all at home, but it was undoubtedly genuine. "Pack your bags, Jack. I've finally got those two boneheads to agree to Mr. Bennett's plan.

"We'll leave as soon as you're ready, Mr. Bennett."

"Perhaps now you understand my insistence that we needed to treat the captives less lightly."

Pamela tried to ignore the superior att.i.tude Sorli was taking, but it was d.a.m.n hard. He'd been right and she'd been wrong. Still, she didn't like the way the little man said "captives." It made it sound as though they were engaged in a clandestine war. Which, she had to admit, they were. So what was it about the way he used the word that bothered her? The two individuals he had kidnapped and brought to Advanced Concepts Engineering were captives, prisoners of this undeclared war. They were also prisoners that Mitsutomo had no legal authority to hold. Lack of legal authority was why she had denied his request to use one of the Keiret-su's legitimate holding facilities.

Now, looking at the empty bed in the empty room, she saw she had been wrong. She had placed too much reliance on SQrli's word that the acquisition operation had gone smoothly. Somewhere there had been a slipup; otherwise no one would have known that Reddy and his companion had been brought to the ACE facility. But crying over it wasn't going to help; they had to pick up the pieces and move on.

"What results on tracing the names mentioned on the audiotape?" she asked.

"Bear is the name the sleeper is using, and so we need look no further."

"And Kun?"

"As yet unknown. Since the sleeper could not be versed in penetrating modern security systems, Kun must have led the breakout attempt. From the traces of tampering in the facility's computer system, we know that he is highly trained or has access to very sophisticated expert software, which means that he has backing. We must a.s.sume that he is an agent of an unidentified faction. A powerful one."

"Not an otherworld faction?"

"I do not believe so."

"Are we looking at an ally or an opponent?"

"He stole our captive," Sorli said with a tone that made her feel mocked. "He is no ally."

Sorli's opinion was clear, but Pamela preferred a wider, more optimistic view. If this unknown faction was simply protecting the sleeper and his friends, they might actually oppose the rulers of the otherworld. If so, they were allies of sorts, no matter how opposed to Mitsutomo they might be in other, lesser matters.

Still, she could not ignore Sorli's fears of an opposition faction. If Kun was part of an organization, and that organization was seeking to shift the balance toward chaos, they had to be identified. Immediately. An unknown enemy was the most powerful kind. A known enemy could be watched and steps could be taken to neutralize them. If Kun's organization favored the chaos, they would have to be neutralized.

Sorli's conviction that this mystery organization had no connections to the otherworld was encouraging. Mitsutomo had the resources to deal with a real-world threat, even a rival megacorporation. Pamela knew how those resources could be brought to bear; she had plenty of experience in dealing with the real world. She knew how to pressure organizations, knew how to break them if necessary. A real-world rival was something she knew how to handle.

The idea of taking a direct hand against the chaos was appealing, far more appealing than relying on Sorii and his arcane expertise. She was sure that more direct supervision would get better results from Sorii and his team. She'd be taking a more direct hand now. She would add other teams to the operation as well, separate from and operating independent of Sorii. She would get results.

Dismissing Sorii with an admonition to get something onto her screen within the day, she headed for the office the ACE president had arranged for her. She had planning to do.

CHAPTER.

19.

The journeyers began to gather on the back porch of the safe house about an hour after sunset. The air was chilling fast, the way it did in the late spring, when the land still held the cold of winter too closely for the sun to warm it away during the day. The clothes that had seemed overly warm to John in the house didn't seem out of place in the light evening breeze.

Bear and Kun were already there. Like John, they were wearing dark sweatshirts and cargo pants tucked into high-top hiking boots, outfits that had come from the storeroom of the safe house. Kun's fit perfectly, and Bear's sweater stretched tight across his shoulders but was otherwise a good t.i.t. John's pants barely covered the top of his boots and the sweater's sleeves ended a good two inches short of his wrist Kun was explaining to an attentive Bear about the fme points of handling an H & K 5mm Viper machine pistol. John felt the heavy weight of the gun Kun had issued him hanging at his shoulder; even though he had collapsed the stock and removed the suppressor so that the weapon was barely a foot long, the Viper seemed awkwardly long.

"You ought to listen to this too, Jack," Bear said.

John nodded, but he didn't really listen. The weapons made it seem as if they were getting ready for a war, and that wasn't what they were supposed to be doing. Was it?

No, John.

Ah, Faye. Just what are we supposed to be doing?

You 're trying to help Artos. I'm just trying to help you.

Is it that simple? Why does it feel so complicated?

I don't know, John. It doesn 't feel complicated to me.

Trashcan Harry arrived, maneuvering himself and his crutch through the door with some difficulty. He was looking better and gave John a snaggle-toothed smile; he was clearly weak, worn down by his ordeal in the halls of the Mitsutomo monsters. John thought again about suggesting that Harry stay behind, but the determined way the man clumped across the porch to hear Kun's lecture said that he would be as adamant as ever about going along. John couldn't understand why Kun, who was obviously viewing this adventure as some kind of testosterone-powered fast strike, had backed Trashcan Harry's intent to go along. The battered Harry couldn't possibly match Kun's ideal of a soldier or even a spy. All you had to do was look at the old guy to see he should stay home; even the stealthy aspect of Harry's dark clothes was undermined by the bright white bandages wrapping his hands and head. Kun obviously didn't think Harry was too useful, because he hadn't bothered to give him a weapon-although from the pistol b.u.t.t sticking out from under Harry's sweater, he had found one of his own.

Bennett and Spae were the last to arrive. He wore the same street clothes and trench coat he had been wearing when John had first met him, while she was dressed like a hiker in flannel shirt and jeans. To complete the image, she wore a multipocketed backpack and carried a metal-shod walking stick. They looked as if they had completely different travel plans from each other, let alone the rest of the crew. Neither of them looked weighed down with the gravity Kun, Bear, and Harry were showing.

Kun acknowledged Spae's arrival with a nod. Putting down his weapon, he strapped on a ballistic vest studded with rings and snaps and straps. Bulging pockets and attached packets made it look lumpy. Once he had his vest seated to his satisfaction, he handed similar but unequipped vests to everyone.

"Ballistic armor," he said.

Bear took his and started to play with the Velcro fasteners, opening and reclosing them clumsily. John stepped over to help him. Like a good squire, he helped Bear slip into the vest and fastened it securely on him.

"It doesn't feel much like armor," Bear said. "And there's no protection for the shoulders or the arms."

"Most shots are aimed at the body," Kun said. "Arm's too difficult a target in a firefight."

Bear made a sweeping motion with his arm. "The arm is exposed when a blow is made."

"He's talking about guns, Bear," John said. ltNot swords."

Looking down at his vest, Bear fingered the thickness of the garment. "This protects against guns?"

"Most," Kun said. "You'll still feel like you've been kicked by a mule."

Giving Kun a disbelieving look, Bear didn't say anything more. He headed back into the house. John helped Trashcan Harry into his vest before donning his own. Spae refused the vest that Kun offered her.

"For the record, Doctor?"

"Yes, Mr. Kun. For the record."

Sour-faced, he opened the door and started to toss the vest inside. Bennett, watching the proceedings with an amused air, stopped Kun's motion by asking, "None for me, Mr. Kun?"

Without looking at him, Kun replied, "You can have the doctor's, since she doesn't want it."

"How kind of you." But when Kun held it out to him, he said, "No, thank you. I believe the doctor has a more realistic view of our excursion."

"Suit yourself." Kun dropped the vest at Bennett's feet and went back to his weapon.

Bear came back, wearing his leather jacket. He held John's out to him. "You might be wanting this. It's not much, but it's better than cloth. Not a lot of guns in Faery last I heard."

"Thanks," John said, taking it from him. But he didn't put it on, just slung it over his shoulder. It flopped down, concealing the Viper.

"Well," said Bennett. "Now that we're all here and suitably accoutered, shall we be off?"

Spae was the only one to give an unambiguous a.s.sent, and Kun said nothing at all. Oblivious to the varied level of enthusiasm, Bennett led them toward the woods behind the house.

"Stay close to me or you might go astray," he said as they pa.s.sed through the brush at the tree line. Bear and Kun followed close on Bennett's heels, the three of them moving far more quietly than Dr. Spae, who seemed to stumble over a root or b.u.mble into a bush with every other step. Trashcan Harry had trouble negotiating the terrain with his crutch. John lagged behind with him to help him out over the rougher bits. They hadn't gone more than a dozen yards when Bennett halted and turned to Dr. Spae.

"Are you ready, Doctor?"

"Lord, I hope so," she replied nervously.

"Then we shall proceed."

Bennett held his hand out, palm up, and closed his eyes. In a moment, John smelled ozone; and then faint green light began to flicker around Bennett's fingers with the fitful energy of an alcohol fire. Kun sucked in a breath. Bennett opened his eyes and, reaching out with his luminous hand, grasped the metal tip of Spae's walking stick.

"I don't feel anything," she said.

"Concentrate, Doctor."

For almost a minute nothing happened. The ozone scent increased, and the green light extended its fugitive brilliance down onto the metal ferule. The shifting flashes encompa.s.sed both hand and staff. Bennett took his hand away, trailing silvery streamers that stretched and sagged like half-dried paint before vanishing utterly. He smiled a satisfied smile at the lambent light wreathing the tip of the doctor's staff.

"We may proceed," he said as he turned to lead them on.

They walked on, the light from Spae's staff casting strange shadows on the undersides of the leaves above them. Kun spent as much time casting slit-eyed glances at the doctor's light as he did scanning the woods around them. He carried his weapon ready, which made John nervous. Bear, for all his earlier arguments against trusting Bennett, followed the elf more complacently; his Viper was slung and he appeared almost relaxed, as if the woods were more comfortable for him than urban surroundings. But then, they probably were to him; John tended to forget that Bear came from a more primitive time. In Bear's time they didn't have cars and roads and skysc.r.a.pers and electric lights ...

Electric lights.

By now they should be seeing the lights of the house on the neighboring property, but all John could see was trees. I le looked back the way they had come. Trees. To the left, trees; to the right, trees. For all he could see, they might have been in a forest that stretched around the world. He looked up, searching for a patch of sky through the canopy. He lound one, and in it more stars than he remembered from the cloudy sky under which they'd entered the woods.

Something gave a low, moaning call. John looked around, but he couldn't see what it might be. The call came again; it wasn't a sound that John had ever heard on a nature vid.

The edges of the leaves around them glistened; light reflecting from them shone in pure colors as though it were bent through a prism. Such a rainbow effect shouldn't be vis-ihlc at night, but John saw it anyway. The air seemed charged, and his skin tingled. Ahead, Kun seemed to glance mound with more frantic intensity. Spae turned her head in wider, more regular sweeps, taking in all around her with an expression of wonder on her face. She didn't even notice when the flickering light of her staff faded and died. Bear marched on, neither nervously fidgeting like Trashcan Harry nor rapt in awe like the doctor. He was taking it all in stride, and John tried to emulate his casual acceptance of the odd-ness around them.

After they'd walked for a half an hour or so, the trees thinned, opening into glades and finally meadows. Above them a silver moon shed light that somehow did not diminish the mult.i.tude of stars studding the clear sky. Occasionally, John glimpsed something pale moving among distant copses. Once he spotted dark shapes moving in the sky, occluding stars with their swift pa.s.sage.

Bennett led them on, in more or less a straight line, until they came to a river; John recognized the curves, especially an odd, muddy oxbow he had seen from the highway while they were driving to the safe house. But it wasn't the same river. It couldn't be. There were no houses here, neither the battered shacks that had stood by the riverside for a hundred years, nor the more modern getaway cottages favored by well-off corporates. There were no piers, no weathered skiffs or gleaming pleasure boats, no strip mall at the roadside, no road, even. Bennett headed upriver to a wooden bridge carved with strange shapes. They crossed.

The countryside on the other side of the river was open, rolling hills. It might have been an idyllic pastureland, but no flocks grazed the moonlit slopes. It seemed to John that he couldn't see as far as he should have been able to on such a clear night; it was as though the haze of distance started sooner here. Off to the left, at the edge of visibility, he spotted the dark shape of a tower. A blue light gleamed from slits halfway up its height. The scene was at once strange and familiar. With a shock John realized that he had seen this landscape before. In dreams.

Bennett took a sharp turn, taking them up a slope rather than along it as he had been doing. Ahead, where their course would have taken them, John could see a pool of darkness that seethed and bubbled like a pit of pitch. A waft of air from that direction was filled with the stench of decaying matter and a harsh chemical stink.

"What's that?" he asked.

"A gift from the realm of man," Bennett answered. "Do you recall the Carenelli plant? It is situated about a mile from where Route 44 crosses Sefton Road."

"Vaguely."

"This is what it looks like here."

"How can that be?" Spae asked.

"It is part of the nature of the realms, Doctor. If you have been observing carefully, you will have noted that the land-forms here are almost identical to those in your realm. The ground cover and the living things are perforce different, but there are correspondences which arise from use of a place. For example, your dead buildings cast a depressive shadow into this realm, making some places less than pleasant for my sort. There are, however, things that are even more obtrusive. More offensive.

"The foulness that mankind spews and dumps injures the land simultaneously in both the realms. Surely you've seen the effects in your own realm. Sometimes your kind even does something about it, though you are so deadly slow to notice and slower to react. Here we must accept the damage you cause. Sometimes we can lessen the effects, but only rarely since we cannot attack the cause. The foulness you see below us is a wasteland which corresponds to the toxic dump site that is called the Carenelli facility in your realm. The beauty of our realm is blasted and corrupted by thoughtlessness in yours."