Barryn finally managed to get his legs under him and step forward. Or at least as far forward as the enfolding net would permit. "Look, I don't know who you people are or what kind of lunatic farce Clarity says you've chosen to venerate, but neither she nor I have anything to do with whatever trouble that redheaded offworlder has stirred up." Using both hands, he held up two handfuls of the fine-mesh net in which he was imprisoned. "Just get us out of here and we can discuss whatever concerns you have like civilized human beings. If this Flinx person is mixed up in something illicit, maybe we can help you sort it, and him, out."

Clarity looked at him sharply. She turned toward him just in time to see the woman point the pistol she was holding at the medtech and blow his head off. Not off, precisely. More into glutinous blobs of flesh and bone. In any event the effect was the same. The headless body remained standing for a moment, blood spurting from the severed neck like some perverted fountain. Then it collapsed in a broken heap, not unlike the sunfoils.

Clarity did not scream. Some time ago, Flinx had introduced her to something that was genuinely worth screaming about: the very incarnation and manifestation of evil and annihilation whose approach these people sought to facilitate. So the explosive, messy demise of the man who had been standing next to her did not stagger her. Only filled her with emptiness.

"You didn't have to kill him," she observed in dismay. "He was just a medtech who liked me. You could have let him go. He didn't believe in you even when I explained who you are and what you're about."

"He saw us," replied the rotund speaker through his amplifier card. "He saw faces. You are going to disappear, and it was apparent that he was enamored enough of you to follow up on your disappearance. Above nearly all else, we of the Order value our anonymity. Sometimes distasteful steps must be taken to preserve it."

As the two suited figures reached the net and began working with the folds, Sc.r.a.p kept spitting at them, trying to bring them down. His aim was impeccable, but the caustic venom could not penetrate the multiple layers of the military visors. As the man working the net had foretold, after a while the minidrag's store of venom grew exhausted. At that point they were able to handle the fighting, squirming serpentine shape without concern. Manipulated by four strong hands, Sc.r.a.p was maneuvered into a transparent double-walled box whose airholes were offset to prevent him from spitting his toxin outside. Clarity had her wrists fastened behind her and her ankles secured with flexible straps to a small horizontal crossbar. Thus bound, she could walk but not run.

The forward cabin was large enough to accommodate all six of the boat's occupants. None struck her as experienced sailors, but on central Nur's placid and cultivated waters oceangoing skills were hardly a requirement for operating a watercraft. The boat's integrated automated systems handled any required seamanship, leaving its pa.s.sengers free to enjoy the experience.

A large triangular sprowel sprowel had been thrown over Clarity's shoulders. As the thousands of filaments of the specially treated quasi-animate hydrophonic material reacted to the water on her skin and began to warm and dry her, firm hands guided her toward one of the boat's consoles. Beyond, through the craft's curving foreport, she could see the sh.o.r.eline and in the distance the familiar profile of the rehabilitation facility where she had spent so many months and subsequent visits convalescing, healing, and recovering. For all that she could presently access, its facilities might as well have been situated in a different star system. had been thrown over Clarity's shoulders. As the thousands of filaments of the specially treated quasi-animate hydrophonic material reacted to the water on her skin and began to warm and dry her, firm hands guided her toward one of the boat's consoles. Beyond, through the craft's curving foreport, she could see the sh.o.r.eline and in the distance the familiar profile of the rehabilitation facility where she had spent so many months and subsequent visits convalescing, healing, and recovering. For all that she could presently access, its facilities might as well have been situated in a different star system.

Poor Barryn, she found herself thinking. If she'd had any inkling the Order was still interested in Flinx, she would have shunned the medtech from the first day he had paid any serious attention to her. It had been his misfortune to become infatuated. With a start she remembered what Flinx had once told her: people who found themselves swept up in his...o...b..t often came to an unpleasant end. Exactly that had happened to the well-meaning Tambrogh Barryn. Now it appeared that the same was to be true of her.

Having put away the no-longer-needed amplifier, the deceptively innocent-looking man spoke to her as his hands brushed over the quaint manual controls on the console.

"I'm sure by now you're wondering what has happened to the singular pair of guardians who have been looking out for you these past many months. We're about to find out." His smile was almost regretful. "As I said previously, sometimes steps must be taken."

Even if she could have broken free of her captors there was nowhere to run, and she could not swim with her wrists and ankles bound. She could only stand and watch and listen as the speaker contacted the first of the Order's two specialized a.s.sa.s.sination squads. Outwardly she was as calm and composed as anyone in her situation could be. Inside she was as frightened and scared as anyone in her situation should be.

If not exactly rea.s.suring, the first words to echo through the cabin at least did not send her into a panic.

"What of the old thranx?" the portly man inquired of the image of a slender female shape that materialized above the console.

The attractive woman sounded peeved. "We had him surrounded in Claris Park, but he ran into a drainage conduit. We have both ends blocked. Eventually he'll have to emerge, and we'll be here. Of course, we're not waiting on that eventuality. We are presently a.s.sembling the appropriate materials to allow us to go in after him. One way or the other, the matter will be settled before tomorrow morning."

"Compliments and blessings." The speaker adjusted the controls. This time the image that appeared in the cabin was that of a young man who looked to be barely out of his teens-except for his eyes, which looked older than the rest of him.

"Salutations, pa.s.serby." Like his tone, the youth's expression was gloomy.

The speaker noted both immediately. "The esteemed researcher gave you trouble?"

The younger man's reply was remarkable for its impa.s.siveness. He might as well have been reciting a grocery list. "You might say that. Six of the Order tried and true-dead. As to the target I can report nothing conclusive. He may be dead within the shop. Or possibly wounded and on the way to hospital. I don't know because we as yet have been unable to get one of our own inside to inspect the wreckage. The shop owner and his staff are reportedly traumatized and under constant police and medical watch. The police have also, not unexpectedly, sealed off the location and are proving uninformative. There is a lockdown on the scene that applies to the general media as well. As soon as we have more precise information it will be communicated."

Following a further brief exchange the speaker signed off. It was only when he turned to the eldest of the boat's pa.s.sengers that Clarity realized for the first time that the man with whom she had been conversing was not the leader of the group.

The short, white-bearded senior to whom the speaker now deferred looked physically feeble. Despite the best efforts of modern medicine, he suffered from curvature of the upper spine. He had a long, lined, unyielding face that reminded her of a petulant camel. One hand rested on the rounded hilt of a cane fashioned from a dark copper alloy. Familiar as she was with the fanatical organization that had abducted her, she would not have been surprised to learn that the walking stick contained within its cylindrical body several self-propelled and highly volatile projectiles.

"Orel?" Along with the speaker, the attention of every acolyte on the boat was focused on the cane bearer.

The old man grunted softly. "The thranx is contained. The man is dead, injured, or on the run. There is nothing to be gained by delay. Events are put in motion. We should proceed."

A general sigh rose from the a.s.sembled members of the Order; an exhalation of contented decay. Resting both hands on the top of the cane, one on top of the other, the Elder blinked across at Clarity.

"Since you know who we are, you know that we must deal with the anomaly who calls himself Flinx. We are bound to do this. We have no choice. Personally, I wish it could be otherwise. While the Order antic.i.p.ates and welcomes the Purity that is coming, sometimes there is groundwork we dislike having to lay. The interference aura that has been blocking your communit will be deactivated. You will contact him and supply him with a location we will provide where he can find you."

"So you can kill him," she responded tightly.

The old man nodded resignedly. "Yes. So we can kill him."

"And then you'll kill me."

His response was a shrug. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Your fate remains a matter of some controversy. Once the anomaly has been eliminated, the matter of your continued existence essentially becomes moot."

"Don't play with me," she growled defiantly. "You killed poor Tam just because he could maybe identify some of you later. Why should I think you'll do any different with me?"

Casting an eye in the direction of the speaker, the Leader shook his head slowly. The latter looked abashed. "Poor tactics," the old man murmured as he turned back to Clarity. "Once this Philip Lynx is dealt with, there may be some leeway in options. I can of course promise nothing until then." And then, quite unexpectedly, his creased and furrowed visage broke out into an unmistakable leer.

Ever since she and Barryn had been seized, Clarity had felt a certain degree of fear. This was the first time she had felt as if she was going to lose her breakfast.

"I'm not going to call Flinx," she declared rebelliously. "If you contact him, I'm not going to say anything." She strove her hardest to make the glare she bestowed on the vile Elder actually sear his flesh. "I'm most especially not going to tell him to travel to any coordinates you provide!"

The hoped-for force of her glare had absolutely no effect on the old man. "Yes you are," he demurred gently. Turning, he nodded at the semicircle of acolytes.

A young woman came toward Clarity. In her severe and unadorned fashion, the true believer was almost pretty. She was holding something in her right hand. A device.

"Hold her," she instructed her a.s.sociates. Ready hands moved to restrict Clarity's freedom of movement. Her muscles contracted as she tensed. The device was pushed forward.

Out in the middle of the lake her shrieks went unheard except by a few startled, long-necked pinsoir pinsoir gliders and a helplessly writhing, securely caged Sc.r.a.p. While their volume was muted by the cabin's soundproofing, the pitch of the recurrent screams was shrill enough to make the broad-winged fliers veer off to the west and give the source of the frightful noise a wide berth. gliders and a helplessly writhing, securely caged Sc.r.a.p. While their volume was muted by the cabin's soundproofing, the pitch of the recurrent screams was shrill enough to make the broad-winged fliers veer off to the west and give the source of the frightful noise a wide berth.

According to the readback the call-in was coming from Clarity's communit. But the visage that took shape above his wrist was not that of Flinx's beloved. Instead, he found himself gazing back at the countenance of a pleasant-faced, slightly rotund middle-aged man. Confused, he switched the image from full dimensional to flat.

"Who are you? And where's Clarity Held, the owner of the unit you're calling from?"

"All will be explained," the man replied soothingly. "My name is not important. All you need to know about me is that more than a year ago you tried to kill me at a regional shuttleport. You did succeed in killing or injuring several of my close friends and a.s.sociates. Of course, we were at the same time trying to kill you, so it would be futile to waste time debating the situational ethics. At least, we feel so. We were not at all certain we would have the chance to kill you again. We thank you for returning to New Riviera so that we might have the opportunity to realize our earlier intentions."

Delivered in a calm, all but tranquil tone, this was such a dumbfoundingly frank declaration that Flinx found himself momentarily speechless. When he did finally manage to reply, it was to repeat the name he had already spoken.

"Clarity." This time his tone was ominous instead of uncertain. This time his tone was ominous instead of uncertain.

"Certainly," the man responded briskly. "It is implicit that you will do nothing in the absence of confirmation."

The image rotated as the other communit's visual pickup was realigned. It was plain from the way the viewpoint shifted that the unit itself was being held loosely and was not presently on someone's wrist, least of all that of the portly individual who had greeted Flinx.

Very soon the scene steadied. It was clear and, as verified by his own unit, natural and unaltered. Clarity sat in a chair in the center of the image. Her arms were secured behind her. She looked-bad. Her hair was a mess, the very modest amount of makeup she utilized daily was blurred and streaked in spite of the fact that contemporary cosmetics were designed to prevent such distortions, and her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her clothes were distressed. It was obvious she had been seriously mistreated. There was no blood, no visual evidence of anything as primitive as breaking or cutting. Whoever had abused her was too subtle for that. Her captors' methods were efficient, not prehistoric.

Raising her head from his shoulder, Pip straightaway began searching for the source of her master's sudden distress. That it was nowhere to be sensed only served to unsettle the minidrag further.

"You're from the Order of Null." The accusation emerged from between clenched teeth. The allusion to multiple killings and the shuttleport location also fit the time frame the caller had cited. There was no doubt in Flinx's mind who he represented. The other man proceeded to confirm it.

"We are of the of the Order of Null." More than a touch of self-importance tinged the terse correction as Flinx's view of Clarity was once more replaced by the face of the implacable speaker. "We have neither the need nor the desire to kill your partner. Her location will be provided to you. You will come there now, immediately, without detour or hesitation. If you bring another soul with you, if you attempt to contact anyone for misguided a.s.sistance, if you try to notify the authorities down to and including the city sanitation department, we will cut her throat. Even as we speak, you are being watched and your personal communications are being monitored. You will not attempt to utilize them in any way, shape, or fashion. That extends to and includes the need for you to shut down any emergency beacons or locators." Flinx did not bother to look around. "Your subsequent movements and actions will be recorded to the best of our abilities. These I a.s.sure you are extensive." Order of Null." More than a touch of self-importance tinged the terse correction as Flinx's view of Clarity was once more replaced by the face of the implacable speaker. "We have neither the need nor the desire to kill your partner. Her location will be provided to you. You will come there now, immediately, without detour or hesitation. If you bring another soul with you, if you attempt to contact anyone for misguided a.s.sistance, if you try to notify the authorities down to and including the city sanitation department, we will cut her throat. Even as we speak, you are being watched and your personal communications are being monitored. You will not attempt to utilize them in any way, shape, or fashion. That extends to and includes the need for you to shut down any emergency beacons or locators." Flinx did not bother to look around. "Your subsequent movements and actions will be recorded to the best of our abilities. These I a.s.sure you are extensive."

Another voice reached Flinx via the remote aural pickup. Though dimmed by distance, its source was unmistakable.

"Don't do it, Flinx!" Clarity was yelling. "They'll kill me anyway after they kill you. Call the police and ... !"

Her words were interrupted by a sharp sound. She fell silent. Flinx fought hard to keep his breathing steady. There was nothing he could do from the opposite end of a communications link. He could not reach through the tiny pickup and clutch the self-righteous speaker by the throat.

"Don't hurt her," he swallowed, "any more. I'll do whatever you ask."

"Of course you will." The speaker's voice brimmed with confidence. "You're a young man in love. Your heart and your hormones command your brain. You are convinced that you will somehow rescue her and avenge her treatment-none of which, I a.s.sure you, exceeded that which was necessary to advance the cause of this conversation. Who knows? Perhaps you will succeed. Perhaps subsequent to your arrival here we will somehow find a way to reach an accommodation satisfactory to all." His voice dropped slightly.

"Regardless of future developments, one thing is certain. If you do not start this way the instant this communication is terminated, the woman Clarity Held will be dead within minutes. We know that you have certain perceptive abilities. That you attempt to use them in the service of preventing the inevitable arrival of the cleansing is regrettable. Possibly you can somehow employ them to convince us that you are right and we are wrong. You are certainly welcome to try."

You have no idea, an incensed Flinx thought, what I am capable of and how I am going to try what I am capable of and how I am going to try.

But he could not do it standing there in the lobby, ignoring the occasional curious glances of other patrons of the hotel where he had been staying since his return to Sphene.

"Give me the coordinates," he snarled at the communit.

While they were being downloaded he surrept.i.tiously scanned the lobby's other occupants. That woman supposedly gazing into her private entertainment wraparound. The young couple chatting by the entrance. The preoccupied entrepreneur striding quickly toward the lifts. None stood out as agents of the Order. None were marked by suspicious emotions. Was he really being closely watched or was the threat nothing more than a clever ploy? It was a chance he could not take. No doubt his enemies knew that as well.

There was little he could do, in fact, beyond double-checking the coordinates that had been entered into his communit.

He did not have to announce his departure to the human clerk working the front desk, but it was a reasonable move. As long as he kept the encounter brief, even someone a.s.signed to watch him was unlikely to think he might be using the opportunity to contact the authorities. As he approached the desk Flinx did his best to shield what he was doing with his communit from possible prying eyes.

"I'm in twenty-twenty." As he mumbled to the attentive clerk, he slipped a fragment of dull black memory no bigger than a fingernail paring out of his communit and onto the countertop. "Please hold this for a friend who will come to pick it up."

Before the clerk could respond with a question or reply Flinx had spun on his heel and was heading for the exit. If his actions were were being monitored he dared not risk lingering at the counter to explain further. Any extended conversation might raise the suspicions of the Order's malign agents-a.s.suming any were actually present. With Clarity's life at stake it was a chance he could not take. Just the hasty pa.s.sing of the memory splinter he had furtively slipped out of his own communit const.i.tuted taking a big risk. But he felt he had to do being monitored he dared not risk lingering at the counter to explain further. Any extended conversation might raise the suspicions of the Order's malign agents-a.s.suming any were actually present. With Clarity's life at stake it was a chance he could not take. Just the hasty pa.s.sing of the memory splinter he had furtively slipped out of his own communit const.i.tuted taking a big risk. But he felt he had to do something something. If the Order was indeed monitoring his communications, he could not chance trying to contact Tse-Mallory or Truzenzuzex directly.

Notwithstanding the blunt orders he had been given, he could have delayed. He could have tried to stall, could have waited to see if they would contact him again to voice their impatience. If only it were not the life of his love that hung on such decisions. Despite the speaker's threat, Flinx didn't think they would kill her out of hand even if he was a little late. If they wanted him badly enough they would be hesitant to throw away their bait. But again, he could not take that chance.

Anyway, patience had never been one of his virtues.

He had not heard from his mentors all morning. With luck they would check in with him soon. When he failed to respond, he knew they would follow up in person. The hotel would be one of the first places they would look for him. By the time they arrived, any agents a.s.signed to monitor his movements would have long since left to follow in his wake. Failing to find him at the hotel, Tse-Mallory and Truzenzuzex would routinely query the staff. The memory splinter Flinx had left behind would be handed over to them. Bran and Tru would react accordingly.

At least, that was the scenario he hoped would unfold. Anxiously as he antic.i.p.ated it, he could not waste time or energy hoping it would come to pa.s.s.

Upon arriving in Sphene he had rented a skimmer in order to be able to easily visit Clarity at the outlying medical facility where she was finishing her term of convalescence. Even as he was climbing into it in the garage adjoining the hotel, he was sending the vehicle's AI the coordinates that had been supplied to him. Moments later he was outside the structure and airborne, climbing to the maximum allowable commuter height. Its destination programmed in, the craft turned and headed north out of the city.

Following the instructions he had been given, Flinx deactivated his communit's communications functions. He would speak with no one and allow no one to contact him lest Clarity's kidnappers somehow intercepted such a transmission, panicked, and decided to carry out their threat. His continuing silence would further confirm the significance of the recording he had left behind for Bran Tse-Mallory and the Eint Truzenzuzex.

Given luck and perseverance, he would be able to put off any irreversible action on the part of his expectant a.s.sa.s.sins until his friends arrived. In the absence of any direct communication between him and his mentors, their unexpected appearance would be a nasty surprise for the members of the Order. Everything depended, of course, on a concerned Bran and Tru seeking him out at the hotel, questioning the front desk, and recovering the memory splinter.

His head was pounding. The last thing he needed now was one of his severe headaches. He had only a general idea of how, in the event Tse-Mallory and Truzenzuzex did not arrive in time, he might save Clarity and himself. As their speaker had remarked, the members of the Order now realized he was capable of Certain Things.

With nothing more to do until the skimmer reached its destination, he forced himself to settle back in the pilot's seat. The grand and peaceful surrounds of the city of Sphene disclosed themselves around him, the sun-washed urban serenity in stark contrast to the emotions that were boiling inside him. He was only partly successful in his efforts to calm Pip. Those who wanted him dead would have to cope with her, too, he thought dourly.

As for his ability to do things, the Order of Null was about to find out the full extent of that Talent.

"I'm looking for a friend."

The hotel clerk regarded the visitor equably. "I'll need a little more information than that."

"Of course you will. His name is Philip Lynx. It's possible he is registered under a different name. But I can describe him easily. Quite tall, red hair, green eyes; and he is rarely without his pet: a small, brilliantly colored winged creature that often rides on his shoulder."

The clerk's expression brightened. "Oh, yes. I know the gentleman." He glanced to his left. "His rooms are vacant of life-forms at the moment." The clerk hesitated. "Wait. You are his-friend?"

"Absolutely," declared the stranger with fresh interest.

"Just a moment." Reaching into a drawer behind the counter, the clerk removed a small clear plastic vial. "He said that a friend of his would come to pick this up." One hand slid the container holding the black memory splinter across the polished blackwood. The visitor eyed it thoughtfully. "You are that friend, of course."

The visitor hesitated momentarily, then brightened. "I suppose so." The memory splinter disappeared into a carry pouch. "Thank you for your help. When I see my friend I'll thank him personally for your a.s.sistance." With that, the visitor turned and headed for the front exit.

Always glad to be of help to a guest, the clerk turned back to his work, convinced he had done the right thing.

Not long thereafter a distinctive pair of beings entered the lobby and approached the same counter. One was a burly human, the other an elderly thranx. Looking up from his monitor projections, the clerk smiled at the newcomers.

"May I help you? Do you require habitation?"

"Just information." The human was curt without being impolite. "A friend of ours has been staying here. We've been unable to contact him, which is not unusual. What is unusual is that his communit appears to have been shut down completely."

"Completely?" The clerk was professionally sympathetic. "That is disconcerting."

Tse-Mallory uttered a bad word. "It's worse than disconcerting, I'm afraid. Where our friend is concerned, and based on the kind of day my multilimbed friend and I have had so far, it could be a matter of life and death."

"Our friend does not answer his personal communit and we have not been able to contact him via your interchange." Standing back on his four trulegs, the thranx was just able to peer over the human-height counter. "Can you send someone to check his room, or allow us to go there with a member of your staff to look at it for ourselves?"

Anxious to please, the helpful clerk's right hand hovered over the relevant instrumentation. "What is your friend's name again?"

Tse-Mallory provided the alias Flinx had used when he had registered with Nurian Immigration upon arrival. At the mention of the name the clerk needed to wave only briefly at his instruments.

"The gentleman left here earlier. He did not check out and he hasn't returned."

The two visitors exchanged a glance, the thranx punctuating his look with a sharp gesticulation the clerk did not recognize.

"Did he happen to mention his intentions, or where he was going?" Truzenzuzex inquired tersely. The clerk shook his head. "Did he happen to leave anything behind?"

At this the clerk smiled. "Yes. A memory splinter. A friend would come to pick it up, he told me."

Man and thranx relaxed visibly. Tse-Mallory extended a gnarled hand palm upward across the counter. "That's good. I'll take it now, thanks."

A bewildered expression came over the clerk's countenance. "You can't. That is, I mean-his friend has already picked it up. Quite a while ago, in fact."

The tension among the pair of unusual visitors that the clerk had sensed a moment ago abruptly returned in full. "If you wouldn't mind," the thranx enunciated in perfect, almost colloquial terranglo, "it's very important that you describe this 'friend' to us."

"Everything you can remember about him." The human's stare was so forceful that the clerk found himself awed-and a little frightened.

"Certainly-sure," he stammered. "First of all, it was not a 'he' ...."