"But we were there. We saw you fall to your death."

"Ah, the power of a.s.sumption." He smiled at her. "You saw us fall-"

"It was a long way down."

"Yes, a very long way down. And so you a.s.sumed we fetched up at the bottom of the caldera, every bone in our body broken. But the truth is it was all planned. We needed to get to the Oppamonifex caldera and we needed a witness-a credible witness, we might add-to report to Courion that we had died." He shrugged. "Who better for that messenger's job than you, Krystren?"

"But you were his lover, our friend."

"True enough. And do not think that we did not enjoy our time with the two of you. But, truth be told, a good part of the pleasure was in keeping our secret, in playing a predetermined role. We are Sintire Ar-dinal. But you have already guessed that, haven't you?"

"All the time you were with Courion you spied on him? You pretended to love him?""Nothing was pretense. That was how we succeeded." He shook his head. "Do not hate us, Krystren.

We do not think we could bear it."

Krystren stared at him silently.

"You must understand. We know everything. We know Cerro charged you with bringing the wand to Courion."

"One of the wands you found at the bottom of Oppamonifex. Why didn't you die?"

"You do hate us."

"You should have died in that fall. Anyone else would have."

"So. We will tell you whatever you wish to know. Do you remember the jacket we were wearing?"

"Vividly. It was turquoise."

"It was made for us by the females of the High Cathedral. It opened up"-he let go of her, threw wide his arms-"into wings that slowed our descent, that broke our fall. And so we landed in the arms of Abrasea."

"So what you want is the wand."

"We have to admit that Courion got under our skin. Poor us. We were unprepared for that. We had to adjust. In retrospect, we should have figured it out sooner. He was unique, your brother. As are you."

Slid the back of his hand along her cheek. "This is all so needless, you know. Join us."

"Join you? You and your sauromician allies have been trying their best to track us down and kill us."

"Not us. Never us. We are not like the others, Krystren. We have been trying to find you on our own."

"You are just like them. Duplicitous, power-mad, evil."

He shook his head. "We are the only one who can protect you now. With us you are safe, Krystren.

Believe that."

"Why should we?"

"Now that Courion is dead, it will be so easy to leave your old life behind. Just take our hand, and we will slip away together. No one will know what happened to you."

"We will know."

"Do you think we enjoy this? Do you think we want to hurt you? We will make it worth your while.

Come with us, and we swear you will not be sorry."

"We trusted you once, and you lied to us."

"Listen to us." Put his lips beside her ear. "You are our only link to Courion. We cherished him."

"Even while you were betraying him?"

"You of all people should understand how that is possible. Can we not love and hate our parents at the same time? Can we not hold two opposing emotions in our hearts? We are made masters of rationalization, are we not? We are trained to compartmentalize everything. In that way, no emotion can overwhelm us. But once in a great while an emotion is so intense it breaks even our bonds. Tell us that is not so. Tell us you have never had it happen."

Krystren, thinking of the love she felt for Courion, for Minnum, said nothing.

"Training-even ours-only goes so far, isn't that your experience? It certainly is ours." He held her now, but not as an enemy. Not even as a friend. "Come with us to the island of Suspended Skull. We want you beside us. We want to take you for our wife, to cherish you, to protect you. Linked this way, we will honor his memory together."

The rain was soft now, tiny pinpoints, gentle as dew. Mist crept through the garden, obscured the five towers. Even the temple looked indistinct, far away.

"How do we know it's us you want and not the wand?" "Your brother is dead, Krystren, your mission no longer exists. Tell us, what is your purpose now here among the Kundalan?" She stood very still, watching him.

"Don't give us the wand." He shrugged. "In fact, don't even tell us where you have hidden it. We need time to win your trust, we know. Let us prove that everything we have told you is true. Let your heart guide you, Krystren. That is all we ask."

"Give us one reason why we should trust you." "We cannot, Krystren. You know we cannot. All wecan say is that the past is the past. Everything else lies before us."

At last, she nodded. "All right. We will allow you to prove yourself. But do not expect anything to change quickly."

"We will expect nothing. Nevertheless, you have made us very happy. Let us make all haste now."

He took her hand, but as they were about to depart, a figure emerged from the mist and called Krystren's name in an urgent tone. "Giyan," she said, turning back. "Where are you going?"

"Do not interfere, Kundalan." Orujo took a step toward Giyan. "This is none of your concern."

Giyan ignored him. "What form of fell coercion is this?" Krystren pushed Orujo back. "We are going with Orujo of our own free will."

Giyan directed her right hand downward, her fingers splayed outward. They heard a deep rumbling, and the ground shook as up from the rock-bed depths arose a column of light force-a sinew of power bourn drawn from its natural course by a powerful spell. It coiled itself around her wrist, flickered from her fingertips, and she held it out, a threat and a promise.

"I do not believe you," she said.

"The truth is we do not belong here. My beloved brother is dead. We belong with our kind."

"But this one-"

"Giyan, please. Do not provoke a needless confrontation." Krystren pushed Orujo back into the mist.

"Our mind is made up. We are going now. We beg you to forget we ever met."

With that she turned and, together with Orujo, vanished into a thick swirl of mist.

Giyan called her name again, but the sound was m.u.f.fled and instantly died away. In any event, there was no reply. Still she went forward a few paces to stand where Krystren had stood, as if there was something in that spot that would reveal the Sarakkon's inexplicable behavior.

In fact, there was. Giyan's gaze was drawn to the ground at her feet, where dark markings mingled with the boot prints of Krystren and Orujo. Dropping to her haunches, she read what Krystren's busy fingers had written in the damp ground.

SUSPENDED SKULL. WHERE THEY ALL ARE.

Immediately, she rushed off, climbing the stairs to the Library, where the Skreeling Engine hulked, waiting.

Eleana, keeping herself well hidden within the crowd along the Promenade, eeled her way toward the Sarakkon ship Omaline, which lay to tied up at the seventh slip, but she stopped well short of her goal.

Her keen Resistance eye noted several Khagggun out of uniform, posing as Bashkir and Mesagggun.

They were keeping the Omaline under surveillance. Sagiira had been right. From the activity of the crew it was clear the ship was making ready to set sail. As she pondered what to do next, she wondered whether Riane and Thigpen lay in its hold, tied up or in irons, or worse.

As if galvanized by the thought, a scheme occurred to her. She pinched her cheeks hard to start the tears flowing, then ran as fast as she could. Looking over her shoulder, she slammed right into one of the out-of-uniform Khagggun, who caught her before she hit the ground. As he looked her up and down, it was easy for her to act terrified, for her to blubber that she had glimpsed a Sarakkon-here she gave an accurate description of Lujon-with a Khagggun weapon hidden under his vest.

Her story was enough to send the already on-edge surveillance team into action. Declaring themselves to the startled Sarakkon crew, they swiftly and authoritatively boarded the Omaline, looking for Lujon.

As their interrogation occupied the crew, it was a simple matter for Eleana to slip through the sea rail, climb down to the dock itself, and from there lower herself un.o.bserved into the water. Swimming under the surface, she soon came to the place on the hull of the Omaline where the bow hawser arced down just above the waterline. Grasping it, she hauled herself hand over hand up its thick, slippery length to the fore-deck, where she hid behind the ma.s.s of a huge iron-and-wood capstan, molding her body to thesculpted bowsprit until, peering through a deadeye, she saw her opportunity. Creeping down into the hold, she shook herself off and began her careful search, hoping to find Riane and Thigpen. In fact, she found nothing, not even a single box or sack. The ship was without cargo, which was extremely odd for a Sarakkon vessel. She was just beginning to ponder this conundrum where she felt the ship begin to move.

Apparently, the Khagggun had found nothing and had no reason to keep the Omaline in port.

Using all the stealth at her disposal, she crept up the steep compan-ionway and dared to look out past the rolling deck. There she saw the Axis Tyr harbor growing ever smaller. There was a stiff breeze, freshening out of the southeasterly quarter. She could hear Lujon calmly giving orders as the ship headed west to its unknown destiny, carrying her along with it.

29

The Shallow Grave

Think of a pinhole in our Realm," Giyan had said. Riane had gone through the pinhole, into the null-s.p.a.ce between Realms. She recalled Thigpen saying, A shallow grave. Nasty, nasty.

Where was Thigpen?

She herself was drifting. Awash on a current slowly moving, dragging her out into the deeps of a bottomless sea.

She opened her mouth, felt as if water had rushed in. Null-s.p.a.ce filling her up with darkness, like a tube expanding in her throat and stomach. It was as if everything she had known or understood to be true had been reversed. Instead of standing on solid ground she floated in air; instead of breathing air, the atmosphere was solid. No wonder Thigpen had called it nasty. It was inimical to life, hence the name null-s.p.a.ce. The interstices between Realms, what kept them from flying apart, was necessarily like glue.

She was aware of nothing save the need to breathe, the sure knowledge that she would not be able to do so. Then her hand floated up in front of her face. It was still clasped tightly around the infinity-blade wand, and her mind flashed. She was somewhere, where?, cold, white. Wind howling. She heard a familiar voice saying to her, "Worlds. . . worlds within worlds ... on top of each other like layers of an infinite cake . . . and in between ..." What? Remembered s.n.a.t.c.hes from Riane's damaged memory, fading in and out like sunlight through a maze of forest branches. "In between there is a way to cut. . ."

To cut? Riane depressed the tiny gold disc. The infinity-blade flamed on, a torch in the night.

". . . there is a way to cut. . . ."

There was a way, Riane knew it. She had to go still, completely still, trusting in the knowledge Riane had been given. She emptied her mind so that the damaged memory could surface fully. She saw her arm at work, moving the infinity-blade. Pure instinct, or rather instinct directed by deeply seeded knowledge.

Light. Pearlescent. A glow, a glimmering rift opening, widening.

Where did it lead? Annon's question, the need to empty her mind again. Nothing would work if her mind was full of questions. The infinity-blade sliced open null-s.p.a.ce, led her on. Floating. Then, all at once, as the rift opened farther, she accelerated through. Out the Other Side, to where?

Face like a crumpled cup, and feeling the same, Ardus Pnin groaned. He rose on one elbow, looked blearily around his bedroom, and spat heavily into a shallow alloy pan, thoughtfully provided. He looked down into a river of spittle, threaded with his own dark blood, and began to piece together recent events.

Leyytey, standing in the hallway just outside his door, turned to Sornnn when she heard her father call her name.

"Come in with me," she said.

He shook his head.

"He will want to see you."

"Time enough for that." Sornnn kind but firm. "First things first."

Leyytey entered the room with her hearts in her mouth. She felt about five years old. Her father was sitting up, arms stiffly at his side, she saw with a shock, in order to hold himself upright. Sunlight spilled in through the open slider, soft rustling of the leaves, bright chatter of gimnopedes. Otherwise, all was quiet.

"I need something to eat."

Not a word about her, or what she had done.A tray with food and drink on a sideboard had been awaiting his pleasure. She brought the tray over, seeing every crease in his face, a victory or defeat, rise up like a monument, like a hand ready to slap her down. As she slid the tray onto his lap, she thought, How will my life change, ever?

"What is this?" Staring down at the food.

"Eat it," she said. "You will feel better."

He did not look at her, took up his utensils. Chewing desultorily, as if what she had prepared had no taste, as if he were eating sand and rock. "Where is Sornnn?"

"Just outside. Shall I fetch him?"

"You know what I hate?" Stopped eating altogether. "I hate that sniveling, anxious-to-please tone."

She stood, stunned, her cheeks flaming. All her stomachs hurt at once.

"And stop looking at me as if I am being dragged to the gates of N'Luuura." He commenced eating again, this time with a fair amount of gusto. "This slingbok stew isn't bad." he said, swallowing. "You make it?"

A favorite of his, remembered from childhood. "Yes." Hard to find her voice. Her head was swimming in a sea of fog.

"Good as it is, I wouldn't want to see you make a habit of it." He finished everything on his plate, drank the goblet of water, and did not, surprisingly, ask for fire-grade numaaadis. "You have more important things to do with your time than cook, or blend into a hingatta, for the matter of that." He sat back, still not meeting her eyes. "You never blended into anything in your life. I always liked that about you. Gave me a little kick, you know, inside." He cleared his throat. "Well."

When Leyytey took the tray from him he turned his head aside.

"Are you tired?" Setting the tray down, old plates, cracked and worn around the edges.

"So now you know," he said gruffly. It was an answer, in its way.

"Yes. I've seen the worst. It hasn't changed anything."