"I understand," said Orphu of Io. "The issue is how do you get to the surface to see what's going on. And the question is-why didn't the laser leukocytes fire on the sonie in the first place? It was large enough that it might survive reentry and pose a threat to those on the ground. Why was it spared?"

Mahnmut thought for several seconds. "There were humans on board," he said at last.

"Or post-humans," said Asteague/Che. "The resolution isn't fine enough for us to tell which."

"The leukocytes allow a ship with human or post-human life aboard to pass into the atmosphere," Mahnmut said slowly. "You've known this for more than eight months. That's That's why you had me kidnap Odysseus for this mission." why you had me kidnap Odysseus for this mission."

"Yes," said Suma IV. "The human was going down to Earth with us. His human DNA was to be our passkey."

"But now the voice from the other orbital isle is demanding that we deliver Odysseus to her or it," said Orphu with a deep rumble that may have signified irony or humor or indigestion.

"Yes," said Asteague/Che. "We have no idea if our dropship and your submersible will be allowed to enter Earth's atmosphere if there is no human life on board."

"We can always just ignore the invitation from the asteroid-city in the polar ring," said Mahnmut. "Bring Odysseus down to Earth with us, maybe send him back up in the dropship..." He thought another few seconds. "No, that won't work. Odds are that the asteroid-city will fire on us if the Queen Mab Queen Mab doesn't rendezvous as requested." doesn't rendezvous as requested."

"Yes, it seems a real possibility," said Asteague/Che. "This imperative to deliver Odysseus to the orbital city and the views of a massacre of humans on Earth by non-human creatures are new factors since we planned your dropship excursion."

"Too bad Dr. Hockenberry QT'd away on us," said Mahnmut. "His DNA may have been rebuilt by the Olympian gods or whomever, but it probably would have gotten us through the orbital leukocytes."

"We have a little less than eleven hours to decide," said Asteague/Che. "At that point we'll be rendezvousing with the orbital city in the polar ring and it will be too late to deploy the dropship and submersible. I suggest we reconvene here in two hours and make a final decision."

As the two stepped and repellored into the cargo elevator, Orphu of Io set one of his larger manipulator pads on Mahnmut's shoulder.

Well, Stanley, sent the Ionian, sent the Ionian, this is another fine mess you've gotten us into. this is another fine mess you've gotten us into.

46.

Harman experienced the attack on Ardis Hall in real time.

The turin-cloth experience-seeing, hearing, watching from the eyes of some unseen other-had always been a dramatic but irrelevant entertainment for him before this. Now it was a living hell. Instead of the absurd and seemingly fictional Trojan War, it was an attack on Ardis that Harman felt-knew-was real, either happening simultaneously to his viewing of it or very recently recorded.

Harman sat under the cloth, lost to the real world, for more than six hours. He watched from the time the voynix attacked a little after midnight until just before sunrise, when Ardis was ablaze and the sonie flew away to the north after his wounded, bleeding, unconscious, beloved Ada had been dragged aboard like a sack of suet.

Harman was surprised to see Petyr there at Ardis with the sonie-where were Hannah and Odysseus?-and he cried aloud in pain when he watched as Petyr was struck by a voynix-thrown rock and fell to his death. So many of his Ardis friends dead or dying-young Peaen falling, beautiful Emme having her arm torn off by a voynix and then burning to death in a ditch with Reman, Salas dead, Laman struck down. The weapons Petyr had brought from the Golden Gate at Machu Picchu had not turned the tide against the rampaging voynix.

Harman moaned under the blood-red turin cloth.

Six hours after he activated the microcircuit embroidery, the turin images ended and Harman rose and flung the cloth from him.

The magus was gone. Harman went into the small bathing room, used the strange toilet, flushed it with the porcelain handle on the brass chain, splashed water on his face and then drank prodigously, gulping handfuls of tap water. He came back out and searched the two-story cablecar-structure.

"Prospero! PROSPERO!! PROSPERO!!" His bellow echoed in the metal structure.

On the second floor, Harman threw open the doors to the balcony and stepped out. He jumped to the rungs-indifferent to the long fall beneath him-and climbed quickly to the roof of the moving, rising car.

The air was freezing. He'd turined away the night and a cold, gold sun was just rising to his right. The cables stretched away due north and they were rising. Harman stood at the edge of the roof and looked straight down, realizing that both the cablecar and the eiffelbahn eiffelbahn must have been rising-climbing in altitude-for hours. He'd left the jungle and the plains behind in the night and climbed first into foothills and now into real mountains. must have been rising-climbing in altitude-for hours. He'd left the jungle and the plains behind in the night and climbed first into foothills and now into real mountains.

"Prospero!!!!" Harman's shout echoed from the rocks hundreds of feet below.

He stood atop the cablecar until the sun was two handspans above the horizon, but no warmth came with the rising sun. Harman realized he was freezing. The eiffelbahn eiffelbahn was carrying him into a region of ice, rock, and sky-all green and growing things had been left behind. He looked over the edge and saw a huge river of ice-he knew the word from his sigling, was carrying him into a region of ice, rock, and sky-all green and growing things had been left behind. He looked over the edge and saw a huge river of ice-he knew the word from his sigling, glacier glacier-winding like a white serpent between rock and ice peaks, the sunlight blinding from it, the great white mass wrinkled with black fissures and pocked with rocks and boulders it was carrying downhill.

Ice fell from the cables above him. The turning wheels took on a new, cold hum. Harman saw that ice had formed on the roof of the rocking car, lined the rungs going down the outside wall, gleamed on the cables themselves. Crawling to the edge, hands aching, body shaking, he made his way carefully down the rung ladder, swung to the ice-encrusted balcony, and staggered into the heated room.

There was a fire in the iron fireplace. Prospero stood there, warming his hands.

Harman stood by the ice-latticed doorpanes for several minutes, shaking as much from rage as from the cold. He resisted the urge to rush the magus. Time was precious; he did not want to wake up on the floor ten minutes from now.

"Lord Prospero," he said at last, forcing his voice to be sweet with reason, "whatever you want me to do, I will agree to do it. Whatever you want me to become, I agree to become-or to try my best to do it. I swear this to you on the life of my unborn child. But please allow me to return to Ardis now-my wife is injured, she may be dying. She needs me. But please allow me to return to Ardis now-my wife is injured, she may be dying. She needs me."

"No," said Prospero.

Harman ran at the old man. He would beat the fucking old fool's bald head in with his own walking staff. He would...

This time Harman did not lose consciousness. The high voltage threw him back across the room, bounced him off the strange sofa, sent him falling to his hands and knees on the elaborate carpet. His vision still blinded by red circles, Harman growled and rose again.

"Next time I will burn your right leg off," the magus said in a flat, cold, completely convincing tone. "If you ever get home to your woman, you'll do so hopping."

Harman stopped. "Tell me what to do," he whispered.

"Sit down...no, there at the table where you can see outside."

Harman sat at the table. The sunlight was very bright as it reflected from vertical ice walls and the rising glacier; much of the ice had melted from the glass panes. The mountains were growing taller-a profusion of the tallest peaks Harman had ever seen, much more dramatic than the mountains near the Golden Gate at Machu Picchu. The cablecar was following a high ridgeline, a glacier dropping farther and farther below to their left. At that moment the car rumbled through another eiffelbahn eiffelbahn tower and Harman had to grab the table as the two-story car rocked, bounced, ground against ice, and then continued creaking upward. tower and Harman had to grab the table as the two-story car rocked, bounced, ground against ice, and then continued creaking upward.

The tower fell behind. Harman leaned against the cold glass to watch it recede-this tower was not black like the others, but resplendently silver, gleaming in the sunlight, its iron arches and girders standing out like a spider's web in morning dew. Ice, Ice, thought Harman. He looked the other way, to his right, in the direction the cables were climbing and rising, and could see the white face of the most amazing mountain imaginable-no, beyond imagination. Clouds massed to the west of it, piling against a ridge as serrated and merciless looking as a bone knife. The face they were rising toward was striated with rock, ice, more rock, a summit pyramid of white snow and gleaming ice. The cablecar was grinding and slipping on icy cables following a ridgeline to the east of this incredible peak. Harman could see another tower on a swooping ridge high above, the rising cables connecting this mountain ridge to the higher peak. High above that-on and around the summit of the impossibly tall mountain-rose the most perfect white dome imaginable, its surface tinted a light gold from the morning sun, its central mass surrounded by four white thought Harman. He looked the other way, to his right, in the direction the cables were climbing and rising, and could see the white face of the most amazing mountain imaginable-no, beyond imagination. Clouds massed to the west of it, piling against a ridge as serrated and merciless looking as a bone knife. The face they were rising toward was striated with rock, ice, more rock, a summit pyramid of white snow and gleaming ice. The cablecar was grinding and slipping on icy cables following a ridgeline to the east of this incredible peak. Harman could see another tower on a swooping ridge high above, the rising cables connecting this mountain ridge to the higher peak. High above that-on and around the summit of the impossibly tall mountain-rose the most perfect white dome imaginable, its surface tinted a light gold from the morning sun, its central mass surrounded by four white eiffelbahn eiffelbahn towers, the entire complex set on a white base cantilevered out over the sheer face of the mountain and connected to surrounding peaks by at least six slender suspension bridges arching out into space to other peaks-each of the bridges a hundred times higher, slimmer, and more elegant than the Golden Gate at Machu Picchu. towers, the entire complex set on a white base cantilevered out over the sheer face of the mountain and connected to surrounding peaks by at least six slender suspension bridges arching out into space to other peaks-each of the bridges a hundred times higher, slimmer, and more elegant than the Golden Gate at Machu Picchu.

"What is this place?" Harman whispered.

"Chomolungma," said Prospero. "Goddess Mother of the World."

"That building at the top..."

"Rongbok Pumori Chu-mu-lang-ma Feng Dudh Kosi Lhotse-Nuptse Khumbu aga Ghat-Mandir Khan Ho Tep Rauza," said the magus. "Known locally as the Taj Moira. We'll be stopping there."

47.

The voynix didn't come scuttling up Starved Rock by the hundreds or thousands that first cold, rainy night Daeman was there. Nor did they attack on the second night. By the third night everyone was weak from hunger or seriously sick with colds, flu, incipient pneumonia, or wounds-Daeman's left hand ached and throbbed with a sick heat where the calibani calibani at Paris Crater had bitten off two of his fingers and he felt light-headed much of the time-but still the voynix did not come. at Paris Crater had bitten off two of his fingers and he felt light-headed much of the time-but still the voynix did not come.

Ada had regained consciousness that second day on the Rock. Her injuries had been numerous-cuts, abrasions, a broken right wrist, two broken ribs on her left side-but the only ones that had been life threatening had been a serious concussion and smoke inhalation. She'd finally awakened with a terrible headache, a rough cough, and hazy memories of the last hours of the Ardis Massacre, but her mind was clear. Voice flat, she had gone through the list of friends she was not sure she'd dreamt she'd seen die or actually watched die, only her eyes reacting when Greogi responded with his litany.

"Petyr?" she said softly, trying not to cough.

"Dead."

"Reman?"

"Dead."

"Emme?"

"Dead with Reman."

"Peaen?"

"Dead. A thrown rock crushed her chest and she died here on Starved Rock."

"Salas?"

"Dead."

"Oelleo?"

"Dead."

And so on for another twoscore names before Ada sagged back onto the dirty rucksack that was her pillow. Her face was parchment white beneath the streaked soot and blood.

Daeman was there, kneeling, the Setebos Egg glowing unseen in his own backpack. He cleared his throat. "Some important people survived, Ada," he said. "Boman's here...and Kaman. Kaman was one of Odysseus' earliest disciples and has sigled everything he could find on military history. Laman lost four fingers on his right hand defending Ardis but he's here and still alive. Loes and Stoman are here, as well as some of the people I sent on my fax-warning expedition-Caul, Oko, Elle, and Edide. Oh, and Tom and Siris both made it."

"That's good," said Ada and coughed. Tom and Siris were Ardis's best medics.

"But none of the medical gear or medicines made it here," said Greogi.

"What did?" asked Ada.

Greogi shrugged. "Weapons we were carrying but not enough flechette ammunition. The clothes on our back. A few tarps and blankets we've been huddling under during the last three nights of cold rain."

"Have you gone back to Ardis to bury those who fell?" asked Ada. Her voice was steady except for the rasp and cough.

Greogi glanced at Daeman and then looked away, out over the edge of the tall rock summit on which they all huddled. "Can't," he said, voice full. "We tried. Voynix wait for us. Ambush."

"Were you able to get any more stores from Ardis Hall?" asked the injured woman.

Greogi shook his head. "Nothing important. It's gone, Ada. Gone."

Ada only nodded. More than two thousand years of her family history and pride, burned down and gone forever. She was not thinking of Ardis Hall now, but of her surviving people injured, cold, and stranded on this miserable Starved Rock. "What have you been doing for food and water?"

"We've caught rainwater on plastic tarps and have been able to zip away on the sonie for some fast hunting," said Greogi, obviously glad to change the subject from those who had died. "Mostly rabbits, but we got an elk yesterday evening. We're still picking flechettes out of it."

"Why haven't the voynix finished us off?" asked Ada. Her voice sounded only mildly curious.

"Now that, that," said Daeman, "is a good question." He had his own theory about it, but it was too early to share it.

"It's not that they're afraid of us," said Greogi. "There must be two or three thousand of the damned things down there in the woods and we don't have enough flechette ammunition to kill more than a few hundred. They can come up the rock anytime they want. They just haven't."

"You've tried the faxnode," said Ada. It wasn't really a question.

"The voynix ambushed us there," said Greogi. He squinted up at the blue sky. This was the first sunny day they'd had and everyone was trying to dry clothes and blankets, laying them out like signal sheets on the flat acre of rock that was the summit of Starved Rock, but it was still a bitter winter, worse than any in Ardis-dwellers' memory, and everyone was shivering in the thin sunlight.

"We've done tests," said Daeman. "We can stack twelve people in the sonie-twice what it's designed for-but more than that and the machine's AI refuses to fly. And it handles like a pig with twelve."

"How many of us did you say made it up here?" asked Ada. "Only fifty?"

"Fifty-three," said Greogi. "Nine of those-including you until this morning-were too sick or injured to travel."

"Eight now," Ada said firmly. "That would be five trips on the sonie to evacuate everyone-assuming that the voynix don't attack as soon as we start the evacuation and also assuming we had somewhere to go."

"Yes, assuming we had somewhere to go," said Greogi.

When Ada had fallen asleep again-sleep, Tom assured them, not the semicoma she'd been in-Daeman took his own rucksack, carrying it gingerly away from his body, and walked to the edge of Starved Rock's summit. He could see the voynix down there, their leathery humps and headless, silvery bodies moving between the trees. Occasionally a group of them would move-seemingly with purpose-across the broad meadow on the south side of Starved Rock. None of them looked up.

Greogi, Boman, and the dark-haired woman Edide came over to see what he was doing.

"Thinking of jumping?" asked Boman.

"No," said Daeman, "but I'm curious about whether you have any rope up here...enough to lower me to just out of reach of the voynix?"

"We have about a hundred feet of rope," said Greogi. "But that leaves you seventy or eighty feet above the bastards-not that that would slow them down if they want to scramble up and grab you. Why the hell do you want to go down among 'em?"

Daeman squatted, set the rucksack on the rock, and pulled the Setebos egg out. The others squatted to stare at it.

Even before they could ask, Daeman told them where he'd gotten it.

"Why?" asked Edide. asked Edide.

Daeman had to shrug at that. "It was one of those 'It seemed like a good idea at the time' things."

"I always end up paying for those," said the small, dark-haired woman. Daeman thought that she might have seen four Twenties. It was hard to tell because of the Firmary rejuvenations, of course, but older old-style humans tended to have a greater sense of confidence than the younger ones.

Daeman lodged the glowing, slightly pulsing silver-white egg in a crevice in the rock so that it wouldn't roll away and said, "Touch it."

Boman tried first. He set his palm flat on the curved shell as if welcoming the warmth they could all feel flowing from it, but the blond man pulled his hand away quickly-as if he'd been shocked or nipped. "What the hell?"

"Yeah," said Daeman. "I feel it too when I touch it. It's like the thing sucks some energy out of you-is pulling something out of your heart. Or soul."