“Don’t trouble yourself, sir; I’ll go and deal with it.” He suddenly felt deep compassion for the old man, who had spent so many years holding the power of the Comyn, without even laranto sustain him.
He has had all the troubles of a Hastur and none of the rewards, he thought, and then was startled and shocked at himself. Rewards? This monstrous laranwhich threatened, unwanted, to split him asunder, so that he walked with the terrible knowledge of a power whose forces he could not even imagine?
Gift? The Hastur curse, rather! He felt as if his very arms and legs were too big for him, as if he walked halfway between earth and sky, his feet hardly touching the ground, and all without knowing why. Desperately, he wanted Danilo at his side. But there was not even time to send a message to his paxman, and in any case, if Dyan had flung himself recklessly into the danger and terror of Sharra, Danilo was Lord Ardais, for Dyan was as good as dead, and so were they all; let Danilo stay free of this if he could. He said brusquely to the Spaceforce man who had brought the message, “I’ll come at once.” Dio turned to follow him and he said, “No. Stay here.” He could not encumber himself with any woman now, certainly not when Danilo had been denied the privilege of attending him.
“I willgo,” she said wildly, “I am a Terran citizen; you cannot prevent me!”
It wasn’t worth arguing. He signaled to the Spaceforce man to let her come, and together they clambered into the surface car. Regis had never ridden in a Terran vehicle before; he hung on breathless, as it tore through the streets, men and women and horses scattering as it roared and jolted over the cobbles; he thought irrelevantly, we must forbid this, it is too dangerous on such old and crowded streets. Once through the gates into the Trade City the streets were a little smoother and he hung on desperately, not wanting to show his fright before Dio who was apparently accustomed to this kind of breathtaking transport.
Through the HQ gates, the Spaceforce driver barely stopping to flash a pass of some sort at the guard, then tearing across the abnormally smooth terrain to the very gates of the skyscraper; and up in the lift, Dio doggedly keeping at his heels all the way, then into Lawton’s office.
Rafe Scott, white as death, was there, and Lawton didn’t waste words. He gestured, and Rafe poured it out.
“Kadarin has gone to Hali! I suddenly discovered that I was reading Thyra—I don’t know why—”
Regis did. He could feelSharra, through and around Rafe, a monstrous and obscene flame, unbodied, inchoate… and Rafe was part of that ancient bonding.
Kadarin, bearing the Sword. Thyra. Beltran—
Dyan, who had recklessly flung himself into the volcano.
And Lew, somewhere, somewhere…bound, sealed, doomed…
“Well?” Lawton said crisply, “Will you authorize me to send a helicopter, and men properly armed with blasters, to arrest Kadarin out there? Or are you going to stick to the letter of your Compact, while they work with something which is farther outside of your Compact than a super-planetbusting bomb, let alone a blaster or two?”
Am I going to authorize… who does he think I am? Then, in the sudden humility of power recognized and feared, Regis knew that he could no longer avoid the responsibility. He said, “Yes. I’ll authorize it.” He managed to write his name, though his hand shook, on the form Lawton held out to him. Lawton spoke into some kind of communicator.
“All right; Hastur authorized it. Let the copter go.”
“I want to—” I should go with the copter. Maybe I can still do something for Lew…or his matrix if it’s sealed to Sharra…
Lawton shook his head. “Too late. They’ve taken off. All you can do now is wait.”
They waited, while the sun sank slowly behind the mountain pass. Waited, while time wore away and dragged, and finally Regis saw the helicopter, a tiny black speck hovering over the mountain pass, coming nearer, nearer.
Dio rose and cried out, “He’s hurt! I—I have to go to him—” and dashed for the lift. Lawton simultaneously answered some kind of blinking light, listened, and his face changed.
“Well,” he said grimly to Regis, “I waited too long, or you did, or somebody. They’ve got Kadarin, yes, but it looks as if he’s managed to commit another murder while everybody stood by and watched. They’re going to take him down to Medic. You’d better come along.”
Regis followed, through the sterile white walls of the Medical division. An elevator whined softly to a stop and Spaceforce men hauled out prisoners. Dio had eyes only for Lew, carried between two of the uniformed men. Regis could not tell whether he was alive or dead; his face was ghastly, his head lolled lifeless, and the whole front of his shirt was covered in blood.
Bredu! Regis felt shock and grief surging over him. Dio was clinging to Lew’s lax hand, crying now without trying to hide it. Behind, Kadarin moved manacled between two guards. Regis barely recognized him, he was so much older, so much more haggard, as if something were consuming him from within. Thyra, too, was handcuffed. Kathie looked pale and frightened, and one of the guards was carrying Callina, who appeared to have fainted; they set her in a chair and gestured to someone to bring smelling-salts, and after a minute Callina opened her eyes; but she swayed, holding to the chair. Kathie went swiftly to her and held her up. One of the Medic personnel said something and she frowned and said, “I’m a nurse; I’ll look after her. You’d better look after Mr. Montray-Alton; the woman stabbed him, and it looks as if it may have finished him—he was still alive when the helicopter landed, but that’s not saying much.”
But Regis looked at the long sword Kathie had let slide to the floor; and something inside him, something in his blood, suddenly awoke and shouted inside his veins.
THIS IS MINE!
He went and picked it up; it felt warm and rightin his hands. Callina opened her eyes, staring, a strange, cold, blue gaze.
The moment Regis had the sword in his hands, looking at the curling letters written on the scabbard, all at once he seemed to be everywhere, not just where his body was, but as if the edges of his body had spread out to encompass everything in the room. He touchedCallina and saw her with a strange double sight, the woman he knew, the plain quiet Keeper, still and prim and gentle, and at the same time she was overlaid with something else, cold and blue and watchful, like ice, strange and cold as stone. He touchedDio and felt the flood of her love and concern and dread; he touchedKadarin and drew back, THIS IS THE ENEMY, THIS IS THE BATTLE… NOT YET, NOT YET! He touchedLew.
Pain. Cold. Silence. Fear and the consuming flame…
Pain. Pain at the heart, stabbing pain… Regis spread out into the pain, that was the only way to explain it, felt the broken torn cells, the bleeding out of the life— NO! I WILL NOT HAVE IT SO! The trickling silence that was Lew was suddenly flooded with terrible pain, and then with heat and life and then Lew opened his eyes, and sat up, staring at Regis. His lips barely moved and he whispered, “What—what are you?”
And Regis heard himself say, from a great distance, “Hastur.”
And the word meant nothing to him. But the gaping wound had closed, and all around him the Terran medics were standing and staring; and in his hand was this sword which seemed, now, to be more than half of himself.
And suddenly Regis was terrified and he slid the sword back into its sheath, and suddenly the world was all in one piece again and he was back in his body. He was shaking so hard that he could hardly stand.
“Lew! Bredu—you’re alive!”