"You can?" I said.

"Why not. But first, for old time's sake, I want you to indulge in the beauty with me. I have perfected the drug to be a hundred times more powerful than it was. The tiniest droplet mixed with water will do the job that an entire syringe of the stuff uncut used to do. If you'll do this with me, I'll tell you anything you like."

I would be a fool if I wasn't suspicious of the deal he laid out for me, but there was no choice. Besides, the day had progressed to the point where I would soon be needing a fix to quell the urge of my addiction.

"Yes," I said. "Certainly, for old time's sake."

The Master seemed a little surprised at my willingness, but with a fluttering of his hands, he conjured two needles. "I haven't lost any of my magic," he said as he passed one of the needles across the table to me.

He immediately went for the vein in his neck as I had seen him do on many an occasion in the past. For me it was more difficult. I had not taken the needle in years, and I had to think for a moment through the process of self-injection. I rolled up my sleeve, bent my arm, and made a fist. The moment I lifted the hypodermic it all came flooding back to me. I got into the vein as easy as putting a key in a lock. In making love to Anotine the effects of the drug were somewhat delayed in comparison to the needle, which deposited the beauty directly into the bloodstream.

When the empty syringes lay on the table between us, and we stared into each other's bleary eyes, Below asked, "How did you know about the sleeping disease?"

"The same way I know about the metal, exploding birds," I said, and laughed at finally having the upper hand on the Master.

"You've been delving into magic?" asked Below.

"Just your mind," I said. "Now, you promised me the antidote."

"I've already given it to you," he said.

"I'm not that high," I said. "What is it?"

"I just gave it to you," he said.

"No …" " I began to protest, but then it came clear to me. "The beauty?" I asked. "Is it the beauty?"

He nodded. "It has many purposes. When you are awake, it makes you forget; but when you are asleep, it reminds you to wake up."

"No," I said.

"Cley, you somehow know about the bird and the disease, so let me tell you the rest. The antidote has to be the beauty, because once I infect the people of Wenau with the sleeping sickness, I can then show up on the scene and become a hero for curing them. They will learn to respect me because I will have saved their loved ones' lives. In addition to this, I will introduce the beauty into the culture of Wenau, and soon I will be a most necessary figure since I am the only one capable of making it."

"Your plan is to spread addiction?"

"Call it what you like," he said.

"But why?"

"I want your people to accept my son, and I know they won't unless I coerce them. I must persuade them to see him as part of your society. I won't live forever, and I need to be sure he will have a normal life ahead of him. If he stays here with me, he'll become as mad as I am, and when I die there will be nothing to stop him from reverting back to his savage ways."

"You mean, you are doing this out of love?" I said.

"He's my son. Not having had any children, I don't expect you to understand the depth of my feeling."

"But there is no need for this. He would be accepted anyway, on his own merits."

"Don't be a fool, Cley. They would drive him out of town, hunt him down, and kill him."

"You speak of love, but your methods are all about tyranny, slavery, murder."

"It's too late for me to change completely. I know now there is a better way, but I am too tired to go back to the beginning. Truth lies at the end of a circle, Cley. We both have learned that by now. It's also too late for you. I can't have you ruining this plan as well. I happened to have forgotten to water down the beauty that was in your syringe. When next you awaken, I will be making a wolf of you. So good to have seen you once more. After tomorrow, you, like the other thieves, will have become my guardian."

He stood up a little unsteadily, walked to the door, opened it, and left. I jumped to my feet, took two steps, and then my head exploded.

29

When next I opened my eyes, I was strapped to the operating table in Below's lab. I could see through the entrance and places where the walls had broken down that it was morning, meaning I had spent the entire night under the influence of the new, more potent sheer beauty. There had been visions, hallucinations more intense than anything I had ever experienced. Of this, I was certain, but exactly what they were was unclear. I vaguely remembered conversing with Brisden about some philosophical point, and at another juncture I had danced with the monkey, Silencio. There were other scraps of images that also returned—a three-masted ship battling high seas, a bitten piece of the white fruit sporting half a green worm, an animated etching in liquid mercury of the Delicate pursuing us. The only part of it that I was sure of was that a radiant vision of Anotine had been with me through it all.

I was dazed and weak from the experience, but I longed to see her and worried about her condition. My promise had been that I would return quickly, and I felt each minute that had passed since I left her side to be another brick in a wall that would separate us forever. Looking to the left of me, I could see clearly the open entrance to the lab, my path to freedom, but try as I might I could not budge the straps that were tightened around my chest and legs. To the right were all Below's bizarre experiments, the tables holding clear jars of heads, jars of gilled fetuses, liquid rainbows, gears made of bone. Every now and then, at odd intervals, the diminutive lighthouse would begin to glow and the lab was filled with the darting figures of birds. These songs, in conjunction with the howling of the prisoners out back in their cages, combined to make a music that was driving me mad.

I tested my bonds again, this time crying out in order to add the force of my voice to my overall effort. When that didn't work, I simply began screaming, because I could think of nothing else to do. Thrashing my head back and forth wildly, I let loose with the sum total of my frustration.

I had nearly grown hoarse when Misrix appeared at the entrance. He stepped into the lab and passed by me, trying very hard not to make eye contact. I turned my head and followed his progress. Walking over to one of the tables, he lifted an object and started back. I couldn't help but smile when I saw that what he had retrieved was the memory book. This was my last chance.

"Misrix," I called to him. "Demon, I have a secret for you."

He averted his eyes from me as he made for the doorway.

"I can tell you the meaning of that white fruit you found in the ruins."

He stopped for a second, his back still facing me.

"I can tell you how it fits into the story of the city," I said. Of course, I had no idea what I was going to say, but I needed to get his attention.

He slowly came around to face me. "How do you know about the white fruit?" he asked.

"It's in your museum, is it not?"

He stepped closer, moving his wings, and their breeze washed over me.

"My father told you," he said.

I shook my head. "I simply know. That fruit is the key to the story you have been piecing together, and I know exactly where it fits in."

"Tell me," he said, using a claw of his free hand to push his spectacles back up the bridge of his thin nose.

"Loosen my straps, here. Let me get up and stretch my arms and legs, and I'll tell you" I said.