Her companions veered aside. Alone, now, the ancient Great One struck the asteroid.

No grazing strike, this; not even a wounding strike. She plunged into the core of the asteroid, in a blow as straight and true and fatal as a sword through the heart.

The asteroid simply… vaporized. There was nothing left but a great, glowing, spreading cloud of plasma and dust.

I hated the new gods, Aide said. But I almost wish…

There are no new gods, Belisarius answered coldly. There never were. And now there is only the memory of demons.

Goodbye, grand-daughter. If I ever meet the ghosts of Leonidas and his Spartans, I will tell them that their blood-line ran true.

He was back in the square at Kausambi, staring up at the sky. It was quite cloudless.

I'm glad. I never much liked clouds. Too messy.

Belisarius couldn't stop himself from barking a laugh.

Look, I'm a crystal, Aide said, a bit defensively. We're just naturally more fussy house-keepers than you protoplasmic slobs.

Tears welled into his ears. Oh, dear God, I will miss you.

Yes, I know. But there was a time I wouldn't have understood that at all-and it was my life here that made that change possible. Made all things possible, for me and all of my children. And that is what they are now, Belisarius, all those untold trillions of living crystal humans. My children. Flesh of my flesh, so to speak, and mind of my mind.

After a moment, in that witty tone that Belisarius would also miss desperately: Of course, we're not as sloppy about the whole business as you are.

For a split-second far too brief to measure, Belisarius felt as if a ripple passed through the world.

It did, said Aide quietly. I love you, grandfather. Goodbye.

Damodara himself was the first to approach Belisarius, still sitting on the bench. The Roman general's eyes were open, and wet, but he seemed not to notice the emperor at all.

Gently, Damodara opened his loosely-closed fist. Then sighed, seeing what lay within. He had seen that jewel, once, in all its transcendent glory. Now it was just a dull stone. No different from any he might find embedded in a cliff, or lying loose on a sandy beach.

Just as gently, he closed the fist. When he straightened up, he said: "See to it that no one disturbs him, for however long he chooses to remain here."

As officer jerked his head. Two of the soldiers who accompanied the imperial party moved forward to take position on either side of the general. But Sanga waved them back.

"Not them. I will do it myself. And his two cataphracts, if they choose."

Anastasius moved forward, saying nothing.

"You've got to be kidding," muttered Valentinian.

He took his position to the right of Belisarius, where Anastasius was to the left. Sanga remained standing, just behind.

Their postures were quite similar. Except that Valentinian, naturally, held his sword in his hand.

"Anybody bothers the general, he's fucking dead."

Damodara heard the mutter. He said quietly to the officer: "Best position a number of soldiers around the square. Some beggar or dimwit might wander by. And, ah, the Mongoose is not joking."

Near sundown, Belisarius emerged from his half-trance. Jerking his head a little, he looked first to the right, then to the left, and then over his shoulder.

Seeing Sanga, his lips twisted. The expression bore no resemblance, really, to the crooked smile the Rajput king remembered. But he was still glad to see it.

"I need to speak to the emperor," Belisarius said, "but I don't want to miss the sunset. Not this one. Ask him if he'd be willing to meet me here."

"Of course." Sanga was striding up the steps a moment later, taking them two at a time with his long legs.

Not five minutes later, Damodara emerged from the palace, with Sanga at his side. When he came up to the bench, Belisarius shifted over, leaving room for the emperor.

"Sit, please, if you would. I realize a dozen courtiers will drop dead from shock at the sight."

Smiling, Damodara sat. "No such great fortune, I fear. But perhaps a few might be struck dumb, for a time."

They sat silently, for a moment, both looking at the sunset. By now, the sun was below the rooftops.

"I am sorry, Belisarius."

"Yes."

Silence, again, for a few minutes. Then Belisarius shook his head.

"Life goes on. As amazing as that seems, sometimes."

The emperor said nothing. Just nodded.

"As I recall, the quarrel was over where to hold the peace conference."

"Yes," said Damodara. "I proposed holding it here, but-"

"No, that won't work. Rao might be willing to come, but Shakuntala would have him chained and shackled. She has no great trust-yet, anyway-for any Malwa."

Damodara chuckled. "That was the gist of it. The young empress of Andhra expressed herself, ah, with more youthful vigor."

"Hold it in Bharakuccha. It's closer to neutral ground than any other. And have the new medical orders organize and manage the thing."

"Bharakuccha…" Damodara considered the proposition. "Yes, that makes sense. But will the medical orders be ready for such a task, on so little notice?"

"My wife Antonina's already there, and she's still officially the head of the Hospitalers. Anna Saronites can get there quickly-trust me on that-and Bindusara is not far away. Meaning no offense, Your Majesty, but I think the three of them can manage the business considerably better than a pack of courtiers and officials."

"Well. True. Good idea, Belisarius."

Belisarius pinched his eyes. "I got it from Aide, actually. Just yesterday."

But when he looked up, there was only a hint of moisture in the eyes. "There is also-always-the memory of angels," he said quietly.

He seemed to be speaking to himself, more than to the emperor. "And what else are we, really, than memories? It took me all afternoon to understand. He came here so that he could have memories also. And, having gained them-fought for them, and won them-he left them behind for me. For all of us."

"I will have a monument erected to the Talisman of God," said Damodara.

"Make it a small one. Not ostentatious. A place for quiet meditation, not pomp and parades. I know a good place for it. A sal grove between the Ganges and the Yamuna, where an Armenian soldier already rests. He and Aide would both like that, I think."

He smiled, finally. "And make sure it's well kept-up, please. He disliked messiness."