Justine was acutely aware of the gravity in the cabin changing somehow. The smartcore reported an alarming outbreak of glitches right across the starship. She didn't pay attention; she was feeling horribly dizzy. Her mouth was watering as a prelude to being sick, and she couldn't focus on the curving bulkhead wall, it was moving so fast. She hurriedly jammed her eyelids shut, which only made the effect worse, so she forced her eyes open again and concentrated hard on the medical chamber directly ahead of her. Secondary routines in her macrocellular cl.u.s.ters began to edit the erratic impulses her inner ears were slamming into her brain, countering the appalling vertigo. The sensation began to abate a little. She checked the sensor images. "Holy c.r.a.p."

The Silverbird Silverbird was rolling as its trajectory curved around; it was caught in the wake of the Skylord like a piece of flotsam. The curving patterns contained within the Skylord's crystalline sheets were undulating wildly as its vacuum wings swirled like an iridescent mist across the gentle glow of the Void's nebulae. All she could think of was a bird flapping frantically. Then the course alteration was over. The was rolling as its trajectory curved around; it was caught in the wake of the Skylord like a piece of flotsam. The curving patterns contained within the Skylord's crystalline sheets were undulating wildly as its vacuum wings swirled like an iridescent mist across the gentle glow of the Void's nebulae. All she could think of was a bird flapping frantically. Then the course alteration was over. The Silverbird Silverbird's sensors reported a noticeable Doppler shift in the light from the stars. They were accelerating at hundreds of gees, just as the Skylord had on their first encounter.

This first encounter, she corrected herself. Or should that be Or should that be ... In the end she decided human grammar hadn't quite caught up with the Void's abilities. ... In the end she decided human grammar hadn't quite caught up with the Void's abilities.

Whatever strange temporal adjustment the Skylord had made to facilitate their acceleration ended soon afterward. Ahead of them, the few stars shining amid the nebulae had acquired a blue tinge to their spectrum, and those behind stretched down into the red. The Silverbird Silverbird's smartcore determined that they were now traveling at about point nine three lightspeed. On board, glitches were reducing to acceptable levels, and her vertigo faded away.

She let out a huge sigh of relief, then grinned ruefully. "Thanks, Dad," she said out loud. Trust him to figure out what to do. Her good humor faded as she acknowledged that others would be coming into the Void; that d.a.m.ned Pilgrimage would also go a-hunting for Querencia. So has the Second Dreamer agreed to lead them? And how the h.e.l.l are they ever going to get past the Raiel in the Gulf? So has the Second Dreamer agreed to lead them? And how the h.e.l.l are they ever going to get past the Raiel in the Gulf?

Gore had told her to concentrate on getting to Makkathran, so she'd just have to trust that he knew what he was doing, which didn't exactly inspire her with confidence. He'd have a plan of some kind, but it probably wouldn't be one she approved of.

No, forget probably; it just won't be.

Not that she had a lot of alternatives.

Once they were under way, the Silverbird Silverbird's smartcore plotted their course vector. Justine examined the projection, which extended a sharp green line past a purple and scarlet nebula shaped like a slipper orchid. The nebula was eleven light-years distant, and wherever they were heading for beyond that was invisible, blocked by nebula light and pyres of black interstellar dust.

After breakfast and a bout of exercise in the ship's gym, Justine sat back on the couch and longtalked the Skylord.

"How long will it take for us to reach the solid world we're traveling to?"

"Until we reach it."

She almost smiled; it really was like talking to a five-year-old savant. "The world orbits its star at a constant rate. How many times will it have gone around by the time we arrive?" Then all she had to worry about was if the Skylord even had a concept of numbers; after all, why would a s.p.a.ceborne creature need to develop math?

"The world you seek will have gone around its star thirty-seven times by the time we arrive there."

c.r.a.p! And a Querencia year is a lot longer than an Earth year. Don't their months last for something like forty days? "I understand. Thank you." "I understand. Thank you."

"Will others of your kind come into the universe soon?"

"The one your kindred spoke to, the one who asked you to let me in; she will lead them here. Listen for her."

"All of my kindred do."

That sent a slight chill down Justine's spine. "I would like to sleep for the rest of the flight."

"As you wish."

"If anything happens, I will waken."

"What will happen?"

"I don't know. But if anything changes, I will be awake to talk to you about it."

"Change in this universe is finding fulfillment. If you are asleep, you will not reach fulfillment."

"I see. Thank you."

She spent a further half day getting ready, checking various systems, loading in a whole series of instructions about what const.i.tuted a reason for the smartcore to bring her back out of suspension. In the end she acknowledged she was just killing time. The last thing she did as she got undressed was shut down the confluence nest, ensuring that there would be no more of her amplified dreams leaking out to warp reality with such unexpected consequences. That brought back the one thought she'd been trying to avoid. Her mind lingered on the Kazimir she'd abandoned on the slopes of the ersatz Mount Herculaneum. All that was left of him now was a pattern in the Void's memory layer. It wasn't fair to have lived for such a short time only to be unmade.

I will make you real again, Justine promised her poignant recollection of him. She lay down in the medical cabinet and activated the suspension function.

TWO.

HUNGER AND A NAGGING pain woke Araminta. At first she was woefully drowsy as she lay on the motel bed. Bright daylight was shining around the window blinds, warming the still air. Her stiff muscles protested as she tried to shuffle herself to a sitting position. Every part of her ached. Her feet throbbed. When she pulled the duvet aside to look at them, she actually winced at the sight.

"Oh, Ozzie."

Well! It was no good just lying about feeling sorry for herself; the first thing was to get her feet cleaned up a bit. She eased her legs over the side of the bed and slowly stripped off her filthy clothes. Without doubt, they were ruined; she'd have to get rid of them.

The room had a cybersphere node beside the bed so old that it was probably the one installed as soon as the drycoral had finished growing into shape. Araminta started tapping away on its small keyboard, using the new account she'd opened at the Spanish Crepes office. Miledeep Water didn't have a touchdown mall, but Stoneline Street at its center had a plethora of small stores that sold everything she needed. One by one she accessed their semisentient management programs and placed her orders, adding the items to the delivery service she'd hired.

She ran the bathwater at just below body temperature, then sat on the side and gingerly eased her feet in. The water soaked away the worst of the dirt and dried blood, leaving them looking slightly improved. She was letting them dry when there was a knock on the door. Thankfully, the motel supplied toweling robes. She'd a.s.sumed the delivery service would be a courier case floating along on regrav, all nice and impersonal. Instead, once she'd hobbled over to the door, a young teenage girl called Janice was waiting outside, wearing a cap with the delivery company's logo and carrying a couple of large shoulder bags.

Araminta was thankful her hair was still all messed up and the threadbare robe was a ridiculous white and red stripe. Even if the girl knew all about the Second Dreamer, she'd never recognize her in this state.

"I think Ranto was pulling into the park out front," Janice said as she handed the bags over to Araminta.

"Ranto?"

"You ordered takeaway from Smoky James? He runs delivery for them."

"Ah. Yes. Right." Araminta couldn't work out if Janice was angling for a tip. It said a lot about Miledeep Water's economy that they used people instead of bots for a service like this. In any case, Araminta could remember how only half a year ago she depended on the tips at Nik's, so she produced the cash coin, which was obviously the right thing to do as Janice smiled in grat.i.tude.

Ranto appeared before the door was even shut, handing over the five thermplastic boxes of food from Smoky James. That immediately kicked up a dilemma. Araminta was desperate to use some of the medical kit she'd bought, but the smell wafting out of the food boxes was too much for her stomach; she could actually hear it churning. She sat back on the bed and kept her feet off the floor as she started to open the boxes. There were pancakes in berry syrup and cream, followed by an all-day breakfast of smoked bacon, local chulfy eggs scrambled, hash browns, baked galow, and fried mushrooms; the drinks box had iced orange juice and a liter flask of English breakfast tea, and she finished with toasted m.u.f.fins. By the time she'd finished eating, her feet didn't seem to be aching quite so badly as before. Nonetheless, she applied the antiseptic cleaner, wincing at how much it stung, then sprayed both feet with artificial skin, sealing in the abused flesh. When she finished, she just curled up on the mattress where she was and went straight back to sleep.

It was dark when she woke, leaving her slightly disoriented. Something somewhere wasn't quite right, and her subconscious was worrying away at it. She didn't think it was another dream connection to the Skylord; at least she couldn't remember having one during the last sleep. But on the plus side, she didn't feel remotely hungry anymore. Time to think about me Time to think about me.

The bath had spar nozzles that didn't work. Even so, she let it fill to the brim and poured in the scented soaps she'd bought. While it was running, she went back to the cybersphere node and laboriously typed in a request for information on Oscar Monroe. The antiquated search software pulled a list of references out of the unisphere; there were eight and a half million of them. The search hadn't gone into deep cache databases.

"Great Ozzie," she muttered, acknowledging just how much she missed her u-shadow, which would have sorted the information down to something useful in half a second. Another minute typing in new parameters and she'd filtered the list down to biographical details verified to the Commonwealth general academic standard-always a good starting point. That took it down to one point two million.

By then the bath was full. She got in and wallowed in the bubbles as the dirt slowly soaked off. Reading up on Oscar would have to wait a while, but at least she knew he had to be important. He hadn't been lying about that. When she got out, she felt a whole lot better.

Araminta tipped the remaining contents of the bags onto the bed and started examining the clothes. Most of them had come from a camping store, which had provided her with practical hiking boots that came halfway up her shins. When she tried them on, they were impressively comfortable. The dark brown jeans were tough and waterproof, which raised some interesting questions given that she was on a desert continent. She shrugged into a simple black singlet, then put a loose burgundy T-shirt on top of that. A navy-blue fleece was similar to the one she'd brought with her, except this one was waterproof and the semiorganic fibers were temperature-regulated. She needed that function; even after sunset Miledeep Water's climate was still baking from the desert air gusting over the ridge. All the other accessories-the knapsack, the water bottle (complete with manual filter pump), solar-store cooker, multipurpose blade, micro tent, gloves, thermal-regulated body stocking, hygiene pack, first-aid kit-meant she could now walk wherever and whenever she wanted. The notion made her smile grimly at the collection. Buying the gear had been instinctive. She knew Miledeep Water was only ever going to be a way station, though Chobamba itself might turn out to be a possibility.

She ran a hand back through her still-drying hair, suddenly unsure once more. Sitting worrying in a motel room wasn't exactly choosing her own destiny. She sealed the fleece and went out to see what Miledeep Water had to offer by way of nightlife.

After half an hour walking along the nearly deserted streets she had her answer: not much. A few bars were open, along with some restaurants as well as several all-day autostores that were handy for people on a strict budget. Despite its location and the charming buildings, Miledeep Water was too much like Langham for her to be at ease. Small town with a matching att.i.tude.

The emotions emerging from the gaiafield of a bar down by the waterfront attracted her. The people in there were rejoicing over something. As she drew close, she could hear some bad singing coming from the open door. The gaiafield emissions were stronger and more defined as she walked up to sparkly holographic light shining through the windows. Araminta allowed the images and sensations to wash through her mind, experiencing Justine waking up back in the Silverbird Silverbird. The essence of her conversation with the Skylord reverberated through Araminta's skull, enhanced by the rapture of those in the bar.

Justine is on her way to Makkathran.

Realization of exactly who was in the bar made the tentative smile fade from Araminta's face: Living Dream followers, celebrating the latest development in their favor. Making very sure none of her bitter disappointment leaked out into the gaiafield to alert them, Araminta turned around and slunk away. That there were followers in Miledeep Water didn't surprise her; they were on every External world in the Greater Commonwealth, and even the Central worlds weren't immune. She wondered briefly what those in the bar would have done if she'd walked in, held her prisoner or fallen at her feet?

Maybe Justine will manage to do something. Araminta couldn't quite recall the last dream she'd had, the one with Gore and Justine in some room. I must see the rest of Inigo's dreams, find out what happened to Edeard, why he inspires everyone so. I have to understand exactly what I'm up against I must see the rest of Inigo's dreams, find out what happened to Edeard, why he inspires everyone so. I have to understand exactly what I'm up against. Then she stopped dead in the middle of the street as her subconscious finally triggered the memory that had been bugging her: the time display on the unisphere node. Araminta hurried back to the SideStar Motel, not caring if anyone noticed her half jogging along the deserted pavements and ignoring the traffic solidos to race across intersections.

As soon as she was in the room, she locked the door and switched the unisphere node on. The central time display winking in the top corner of the screen always ran on Earth's GMT, with a secondary display showing local time. Araminta immediately switched it to Viotia time and then Colwyn City. It took a moment while she did the mental arithmetic, aided by her macrocellular cl.u.s.ters, and then she ran the figures again. If she'd done it right, and the secondary routines in the macrocellular cl.u.s.ters were practically infallible, it was barely fifteen hours since she'd walked into Francola Wood. But that was impossible. She'd spent a whole day and night just trudging over that first wet, cold, miserable valley, then there had been the day by the oasis. The walk across the desert outside Miledeep Water, followed by sleeping the rest of the day away. That was when she worked it out-walking across the desert outside Miledeep Water and sleeping in the hotel accounted for a good twelve of those fifteen hours.

The Silfen paths took practically no time at all. How could that be? I wasn't even on the paths the whole time. Sweet Ozzie, do they manipulate time on the planets as well? But then, who knows exactly where the planets are, what universe or dimension? Come to that, were they even real?

When she looked down at her feet encased in the cushioning artificial skin, she knew she'd walked somewhere and spent hours doing it. What had happened, or rather where and when she'd been along the Silfen paths, was of no consequence. She knew then that the Silfen wouldn't let her use their paths and worlds as a refuge. It was instinctive knowledge, coming right from the heart of the Silfen Motherholme.

I really do have to face this myself.

"Oh, c.r.a.p!" She picked up the bar of orange chocolate that had been part of the delivery and took a big bite before flopping back on the bed. There actually was no escape. So where do I start? So where do I start? Learning about Edeard was the obvious beginning, and to be honest, she was rather looking forward to immersing herself in his life again. But she felt it was more important to find out about Justine. She let her thoughts slow, mildly satisfied that she no longer needed Likan's melange program to achieve the calm alert state required for any serious interaction with the gaiafield-not that the Skylord's thoughts occupied that particular realm. It was to be found in some parallel domain, its thoughts serene and content. Learning about Edeard was the obvious beginning, and to be honest, she was rather looking forward to immersing herself in his life again. But she felt it was more important to find out about Justine. She let her thoughts slow, mildly satisfied that she no longer needed Likan's melange program to achieve the calm alert state required for any serious interaction with the gaiafield-not that the Skylord's thoughts occupied that particular realm. It was to be found in some parallel domain, its thoughts serene and content.

"h.e.l.lo," she said.

"You are always welcome."

"Thank you. And thank you for receiving our emissary. Are you the one accompanying her to Makkathran?"

"I am with my kindred." The Skylord's incredible senses revealed a vast swath of s.p.a.ce between nebulae, devoid of stars. It flew on and on through the emptiness, followed by a flock of its own kind who called to one another across the Gulf. They were all gladdened that minds were once again emerging into the Void, giant somber thoughts enlivened by antic.i.p.ation.

"Oh. Do you know where she is?"

"The one you seek is within our universe. This is known to us all. For that we all give thanks. Soon there will be more. Soon we will guide your kind to the Heart again."

"Can you call to the one who is with her?"

"My kindred are departed across the universe. Most lie beyond my reach. I will encounter them again in time, within the Heart."

"So how do you know one of us has arrived?"

"The Heart feels it. We all know the Heart."

"d.a.m.n. Okay, thank you."

"When will you come? When will you be here with your kind?"

"I don't know."

Araminta withdrew her mind from the connection and permitted herself a brief feeling of disappointment. It would have been nice to talk to Justine. Instead, she had only herself to rely on, a state she was growing accustomed to. Her mind reached out into the human gaiafield again, stealthily, slipping into the local confluence nests like a silent thief. Her thoughts fluttered around the sight, taste, and smell of Edeard, and up into her brain sprang the wonderful lazy awakening on a soft mattress as dawn stoked the sky over Makkathran. A kiss touched Edeard's cheek, the phantom touch sending a delightful tingle along Araminta's spine. A nose nuzzled her ear. Then a hand could be felt sliding down her/his stomach, and her smile widened at the naughty sensation. Jessile giggled close by and thousands of years ago. "Now, that's what I call rising to greet the dawn," she said.

The other girl giggled as well. Edeard's eyes snapped open, and Araminta looked out through them into his maisonette.

The Ellezelin forces capsule slid over the smooth fast-moving surface of the Cairns. Directly ahead was a big old house with walls of white arches filled with purple and silver gla.s.s, surrounded by balconies that overhung a pool whose water glimmered an inviting turquoise. Well-maintained formal gardens flowed down the slope to the southern bank of the broad river. Even under the wan light that filtered through the gray clouds scudding against Colwyn City's weather dome force field, the place looked inviting, a real home.

"Very fancy," Beckia muttered as the capsule floated down onto the broad lawns. "The building supplies game must pay more than I realized."

"In an External planet economy, going multiple is just a smart way of avoiding taxes," Tomansio said dismissively. "Bovey wouldn't be able to afford this if every one of hims paid income tax."

The capsule door expanded.

"Can I trust you?" Oscar asked quietly. The other two froze, then looked at him. Beckia's gaiafield emissions were spitting out resentment. Tomansio was amused more than anything.

"You can trust us," Tomansio said, pushing a warm sensation of confidence into the gaiafield.

"She founded you. You wouldn't even exist without her. And you're all waiting for her return."

"Common mistake," Tomansio said. "We all understand her flaws, but we don't forgive her. We were born out of her determination, but now we have grown far beyond her."

"Pupil and master relationship, huh?" Oscar queried.

"Exactly. She accomplished a lot in her time, most of which was disastrous. We are about the only good thing that ever emerged from the Cat's life." He raised an eyebrow. "Unless she did have children ..."

Oscar simply responded with a wry smile.

"Quite," Tomansio continued. "So her continuing existence, albeit in suspension, is something of an embarra.s.sment to us. It leads to misunderstandings like this one."

"Far Away rioted when Investigator Myo arrested her," Oscar countered.

"Far Away did," Beckia said. "We didn't. By that time she'd grown to a symbol of Far Away's independence. Arresting her was seen as a political act of repression against the planetary government by an authoritarian Commonwealth. I'd point out the riots didn't last long once the details of the Pantar Cathedral atrocity became known."

"But her principles remain with us," Tomansio said. "The dedication to strength. Ever since our founding we have never broken our code. We stay loyal to our client, no matter what. Not even the Cat broke that. And we certainly wouldn't double-cross you you. Oscar, you demonstrated the ultimate human strength when you martyred yourself so our species could survive. I told you before, we respect you almost as much as the Cat."

Oscar looked into Tomansio's handsome face, so redolent with sincerity, a note backed up by his gaiafield emission. He fervently hoped his own embarra.s.sment at such a proclamation wasn't evident. "Okay, then."

"Besides, that wasn't our Cat, not the founder of the Knights Guardian. If we weren't committed to you, I would take a great deal of satisfaction in tracking her down and finding out exactly which faction has violated our Cat for its own ends. Didn't you say they'd cloned more of her?"

"Not anymore," Oscar said flatly, and walked out of the capsule. Beckia and Tomansio shared a quiet smile and followed him out onto the trim lawn.

Mr. Bovey had come out of the house to meet the capsule, three of hims. Oscar hadn't met a multiple before, at least not knowingly. He couldn't ever recall hearing about any on Orak.u.m. The leader of the trio, the one standing in front, had black skin and a face that had even more wrinkles than Oscar's; several gray strands were frosting his temples. To his left was a tall Oriental male, and the third was a young teenager with a thick mop of blond hair. None of them was releasing anything into the gaiafield. However, their posture alone told Oscar they were going to be extremely stubborn.

Oscar's immediate response was to regret wearing the Ellezelin forces uniform, which was a huge visual trigger for any Viotia citizen right now. Then a deeper guilt began to manifest. He wasn't here backed by Ellezelin authority; his sponsor was a whole lot more powerful than that. That was the problem. Marching into someone's home with the authority and force to demand his cooperation was exactly the kind of fascistic repression that had so animated the young Oscar Monroe's political instincts, which in turn led to him joining the Socialist Party at college and ultimately being seduced by radical elements. A journey that ended in the tragedy of Aberdan station.

Talk about going full circle. But we have to find her. Overriding necessity, the siren call of tyrants everywhere. Yet I know she cannot be allowed to fall into the hands of the factions. d.a.m.n, how does Paula live like this?

"What do you want?" the first Mr. Bovey asked sourly.

Oscar grinned, letting his amus.e.m.e.nt free in the gaiafield. "Oh, come on. We know you and her had a thing."

The three Mr. Boveys stared defiantly ahead.

"Look," Oscar said reasonably, and plucked at his tunic. "This uniform, it's a load of b.o.l.l.o.c.ks. We're not Living Dream. I've never even been to Ellezelin. I work for ANA."

"Yeah? And I work for the Raiel," Mr. Bovey replied, all three of hims speaking in concert. "So that makes us both supersecret agents."

"I saw her at Bodant Park. Me and my team here, we covered for her so she could get free. Ask her. We're the reason she's still out there. If she still is."