"Unfortunate is an interesting description of insanity."

"Terrettt is not insane." Kirlll Qandda stood up. "Shall we pay him a visit?"

Across the corridor was a locked door with a crystal viewing panel set into it at eye level. Through it, Kurgan saw a chamber with a large south-facing window overlooking Harborside, the Promenade teeming, the Sea of Blood aboil with Sarakkon ships and fishing boats. On one wall hung a large color topographical map of the northern continent. There seemed to be a number of circles, smears, and scribbles on it, the sure sign, Kurgan thought, of a mad V'ornn.

Kirlll Qandda was saying, "He has scars, as you will see, but they are old. I can control the seizures better now."

Kurgan staring at the photon lock. "But you have been unable to stop them."

"The abnormal outflow from the stimulated sinerea, you see."

Again he heard the Deirus say, Terrettt is not insane. It was then that he caught a glimpse of his brother, and was startled at how alike they looked. Terrettt's eyes were wide and feverish as he came into view. Three paintbrushes were clutched in his fist. With a manic energy that could be felt even through the closed door, a wide-legged stance, and a tensely hunched back he began to apply pigment to canvas.

Kirlll Qandda had only opened the door a crack, when Kurgan said, "No, wait. I ... He is at work."

"Oh, I am sure he will be most pleased to see you, regent."

The muscles in Terrettt's cheeks bunched and bulged like those in his back. "I do not wish to disturb him," Kurgan said.

"If you change your mind, I will be in my office." He was about to turn away when he said, "If I may ask, regent, when did you see your brother last?"

Kurgan could not recall. He was sorry he had seen him now.

The Abbey of Floating White was a spectral stone edifice, with nine slender minarets topped by silver-leaf domes, rising from the bedrock of the Djenn Marre like the very hand of the Great G.o.ddess Miina. It was there that Giyan had been trained as a Ramahan before she and those other few Ramahan born with the Gift had been exiled.

Nowadays, the abbey was overseen by Konara Inggres, a solid piece of carpentry, strong of limb and will, red-cheeked, intuitive, resourceful, gifted. She had resisted the daemons infesting Floating White, and, with help, had ousted them. But evil had many guises, as she was beginning to learn.

At this moment, she was at supper in the large, skylit refectory that she had restored. She sat at the head of a table empty save for her visitors, Giyan, the Nawatir, and a Druuge named Perrnodt. She herself had answered the visitor's bell, welcoming them with open arms as they dismounted the magnificent night-black narbuck, the Nawatir's great single-horned steed.

She looked around the refectory with mixed emotions. There was the relief of being free from evil's clutches but also a deep and abiding sadness that less than half the tables were filled with Ramahan.

Konara Inggres sighed. "It is a great relief to have you returned to us, First Mother."

Giyan smiled. "You have been making excellent progress here since we exorcized the archdaemon and his sauromician minions. We are all very proud of you, Konara Inggres, which is why you have been named head of the Dea Cretan."

"Though our ruling body is but a shadow of itself," the konara said.

"And yet for the first time in centuries it is pure again." Perrnodt was tall and thin, skin pale andtranslucent, and she gave the false appearance of fragility. The traditional Druuge mistefan had to a great extent tamed her night-black hair, though unruly wisps escaped here and there, framing a face severe as a dagger blade. "This is a new beginning. We must rejoice in that."

Konara Inggres shook her head. "In truth, I can feel little joy. I would not believe it, so many of our sisters gone, bewitched by the sauromicians."

"It is easier to believe a fantasy," Perrnodt said, "than to face the struggle of reality."

Konara Inggres nodded. "Miina has been gone so long. Ever since the V'ornn came, ever since The Pearl was lost, many of my sisters have also lost hope. Their faith had been hollowed out, they had begun to worship their growing fears."

"This is what the sauromicians excel at." Perrnodt knew the tastes of the Druuge. "It was how they usurped power over a century ago, how they came into possession of The Pearl."

"And yet now they have enlisted many of my sisters. Their power waxes again. Surely they must have recruited allies."

"Coerced them, more likely," Giyan said, "for that is the Dark League's way."

A soft susurrus, wind through a field of glennan, swept through the refectory, a flurry of furtive glances in their direction and hushed whisperings.

"You must forgive my Ramahan, Perrnodt," Konara Inggres said. "They have never seen a Druuge.

Some may have stopped believing in their existence."

Perrnodt smiled. "It is only to be expected."

"But, after all, the Druuge were the original Ramahan. You were the first to sense the growing evil."

"And for that reason I think there remains a degree of resentment." Perrnodt had finished with her food. "For we Druuge left the abbeys, withdrawing into the Great Voorg."

"Which reminds me." Giyan pushed away her plate. "Are you aware of Druuge in the high Djenn Marre?"

"Well, of course we move everywhere, when the need arises. But I am aware of no particular activity there."

"Still," Giyan said, "it is possible for Druuge to be moving through the slopes and pa.s.ses."

Perrnodt nodded. "I suppose so, yes."

Konara Inggres, refilling the flagons with ice-cold water, was still concerned with the impression her Ramahan were making on her distinguished guest. "Perhaps resentment is too strong a word for what my charges feel. Do not judge them too harshly. I am quite certain they are only curious as to why you did not stay to fight the evil."

"Is that a question?" Perrnodt said with some asperity.

Konara Inggres flushed deeply. "If it would not offend you, I would ask it."

"We each do battle in our own way, Konara Inggres. The Druuge withdrew to the desert so that we might continue our work unimpeded. We did not flee, as some of you might believe. We fought the battle in other ways, by paving the way for the Dar Sala-at, for instance. Among other things, we gave her an ally in the sauromician Minnum."

"One sauromician?"

"Oh, he is special," Perrnodt said. "Yes, Minnum is very special, indeed." She looked down at Konara Inggres' feet, where lay one of the two Ja-Gaar, ferocious sacred felines of Miina, who now helped guard the abbey. "And we had a hand in bringing these to life." She drained her flagon. "There are many ways to join the battle. Raising your fist is only one of them."

"How then will you help us battle the return of the sauromicians?" "Giyan and I have discussed that in depth," Perrnodt said. "It is clear that for years the sauromicians were being aided by the archdaemon Pyphoros. Now that he has once again been incarcerated in the Abyss with the rest of his kind, it would be logical to a.s.sume that we may easily return our sisters to the fold. But as I put no store in a.s.sumptions, the question must be researched further. But fret not. I will come to you just after midnight with the answer."After leaving the pathetic husk of his brother, Kurgan uncharacteristically lost his way. He went down one unfamiliar corridor after another without encountering a soul. He was about to turn around when he spied a set of double doors. Through the barred panes of crystal he saw a number of Khagggun standing guard over a straggly line of half-naked children who stood shivering, silent, and fearful. He looked upon them with a certain distaste. Why the Gyrgon were bothering with such refuse was beyond him. The children were the repellent mixed-race progeny of the thousands of Kundalan females who had been raped by Khagggun packs. He had heard rumors of recombinant gene resequencing experiments being performed on them by the Gen-omatekks at Gyrgon behest. Why not kill them outright and be done with the mess? That would be his solution. The shadowy rumors doubtless made their way to the Resistance, fueling their rage, redoubling their determination.

"Like what you see, regent?"

Kurgan turned to see a Gyrgon in an exomatrix biosuit, his taloned and winged helm completely covering his face and skull.

"I am Nith Immmon."

"Are you in charge of the experiments?"

"The children are in my care," Nith Immmon said obliquely. "Would you care to interview one or two?"

"No."

A slow smile spread across alloyed lips. How they managed to manipulate metal alloy as if it were V'ornn flesh was a mystery. "I did not think so." He pointed a gloved finger. "The recombinant experiments were of particular interest to Nith Batox.x.x. But I suppose being so close to him you knew that."

Kurgan did not, and he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it.

"That being the case," Nith Immmon said equably, "it has become the special interest of Nith Na.s.sam."

Kurgan found this exchange fascinating. Gyrgon did not reveal information without a reason. If Nith Immmon wanted him to know that Nith Batox.x.x and Nith Na.s.sam had been allied, it was because he was their enemy. Sornnn SaTrryn had once told him of a Korrush saying: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. That went so against the V'ornn grain, which was to kill an enemy as soon as he was identified as such, it had made him laugh. In the present situation, however, there was nothing funny about it. It occurred to him, not without irony, that a Gyrgon ally could prove useful, at least in the short run.

"It seems," he said with perfect candor, "that Nith Na.s.sam has a special interest in me as well."

"Doubtless, you would enjoy a stroll through the ward beyond this door," Nith Immmon said as if he had not heard Kurgan.

He pushed open the doors, and they went through. A forest of small cubicles within which Genomatekks were examining very young children. He saw the patients' pale faces fill with fear as he and the Gyrgon pa.s.sed.

"What will happen to the half-breeds?" he said.

"That is Nith Na.s.sam's decision."

"I find it interesting," Nith Immmon said. "No Summoning was scheduled."

"Nith Na.s.sam's idea of a Summoning is that he appears anytime he wants, anywhere he chooses."

Nith Immmon clasped his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. "What was the purpose of this most recent Summoning?"

"You mean he did not report it to the Comradeship?" When Nith Immmon did not reply, Kurgan went on. "He asked me what I knew about Nith Batox.x.x's experiments."

"This Summoning occurred where?"

"Nith Batox.x.x's laboratory."

Nith Immmon stopped and turned to Kurgan. "You mean he took you into the Temple of Mnemonics?"

"Everything was as it had been left. Not even the corpse of the Sar-akkon Courion had beenremoved." Kurgan searched the Gyrgon's eyes beneath the helm for clues. "He is extremely curious about Nith Batox.x.x's experiments."

"He has no authorization to stick his snout into the investigation."

"That fact has not stopped him," Kurgan said.

"It is time to speak of you, Stogggul Kurgan." The Gyrgon's hands were once again clasped behind his back. "Make no mistake. There is a darkness about you. How shall I characterize it in a term you may understand? A penumbra, perhaps. In any event, it sets you apart." Nith Immmon lowered his voice, though every Deirus they pa.s.sed shied away from them. "Though it goes against protocol, I will be candid. There are those in the Comradeship-chief among them the late Nith Batox.x.x-who believe you to be a destroyer, the culmination, so to speak, of the storied Stogggul line. This faction expects a great deal from you. They see you as the great fist of the V'ornn." Greenish ion sparks arced off his upraised forefinger. "But there are others who interpret this darkness in another way. Their faction believes you to be irredeemably tainted by the hand of the Kundalan archdaemon. That faction wishes you dead."

Nith Immmon waited for a moment, then turned to Kurgan. "How does it feel to be threatened by Gyrgon?"

"There isn't a day in my life when I haven't felt threatened by Gyrgon," Kurgan said. "And yet, here I am."

Nith Immmon gave a little chuckle in which rows of very sharp yellow teeth glistered in the fusion lamplight. "You have been taught well, Stogggul Kurgan. I will give Nith Batox.x.x that much."

Three weeks!" Sornnn shook his head. "Three weeks and I have heard no word of Marethyn."

"Ah, yes." Minnum nodded as he brushed grit off Item 358b from their dig. "The regent's wayward sister."

"I should never have allowed her to join the Resistance."

Item 358b was carved into the shape of a figure seated cross-legged. Minnum picked up Item 358a, a head they had unearthed several days earlier, placed it onto the broken neck of the idol. The fit was just about perfect.

"Well, I suppose you could have bound and gagged her."

Sornnn paused, staring at the little sauromician. Then his lips curled in a wry smile. "You are right, of course. There was no way to stop her."

"Precisely. So put it out of your mind."

"I cannot. I worry about her safety."

An idol, no doubt about it, and a most curious one at that. Minnum turned the small, beautifully crafted figure around and around. Half-female, half-male. The b.r.e.a.s.t.s and nipples seemed swollen as if full of milk, the male member long and rigid, curving upward against the idol's belly, like a scimitar. He frowned.

It was not a statue of Miina or any of her sacred creatures. Who was it, then? And what race had left it there in numinous Za Hara-at?

"Then it is well that you are leaving for Axis Tyr tomorrow," Minnum said.

Sornnn stared out into the utter stillness of the night. "Tomorrow is a long way off."

"Ah, love!" Minnum affixed the idol's head to its broken body. "I simply don't understand it. A sauromician's life is a lonely one, and none more than mine. During my long years of exile here in the Kor-rush and then, later, as curator of the Museum of False Memory in Axis Tyr I grew used to my solitude."

"Then I pity you, my friend."

Minnum shrugged. "There are benefits to being alone."

"Name one," Sornnn said shortly.

"You are beholden to no one."

"That is a benefit?"

"You know your problem? You are an inveterate romantic." Minnum started packing up theirexcavation gear. "And don't worry about me. I can manage quite well on my own. I always have."

Sornnn laughed.

Perrnodt was down in the triangular-shaped Kell, one of three such 1 chambers where, in ancient days, the Great G.o.ddess would periodically appear to monitor the holy work of her disciples. Perrnodt had come to this particular Kell because the triangle was Miina's most sacred symbol, representing as it did the three medial points: the Seat of Dreams, at the heart, the Seat of Truth, at the crown of the head, and the Seat of Deepest Knowledge, at the center of the forehead.

These were the body's power spots and she touched them with the forefinger and index finger of her left hand as she knelt in the center of the chamber. Her gaze lingered upon the image of Mima's sacred b.u.t.terfly graven into the stone wall. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to close. Her breathing slowed until it became imperceptible. In her lap lay her closed left hand, and in it an opal nestled. For millennia, the most powerful Ramahan konara had used opals to communicate and to divine the nature of far-off things.

Gradually, after the Druuge retreated to the Great Voorg, that skill was lost. So far as she knew, among Ramahan, only Giyan possessed the skill to cast the opals' power.

A slight tremor had begun to loosen Perrnodt's lower lip. As if it were a creature with a life of its own, this tremor proceeded down her arm, coursing over her breast, through her abdomen, into her pelvis and thighs. When it reached the soles of her feet, it rose, rippling through her body into her shoulders, down her arms, until it reached her left hand.

Her fingers were flung open as if plucked by unseen strings. The opal, vibrating, rose off the palm of her hand and began to rotate. Throwing off sparks-green, blue, red-that bathed her in their milky light.

Flashes of color, winking faster and faster until they blended together.

Perrnodt's eyes opened, but it was with a fixed stare that she peered deeply through the linkage of light into the opal's depths. She was seeking the Ramahan of the abbey who had been lost to the sauromi-cians' pernicious blandishments. To her they were like cor, momentarily led astray by poachers offering the promise of richer food, warmer quarters, and the power to defend themselves against snow-lynxes. She fully expected to find them abandoned and confused, trying to fend for themselves, unsure of the greeting they would find when they returned to the abbey they had so foolishly betrayed.

Through the lens of the opal's light the northern continent throbbed in her head. A pain began just behind her eyes, spreading rapidly to enclose her brain in a vise that exerted an intolerable pressure.