 
The First Book of Changes, Commonly Called

SHEN

Published by Heather Douglass

at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Heather Douglass

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

## CHAPTER ONE

When no one was looking, David set off his own ring tone. He pretended it was a call too important to miss, left Alyson talking with his brother-in-law and walked away. He faked some responses to imaginary questions. As soon as he was back in his office and out of earshot, he put the mobile in his jacket.

And he went round the room one more time. The sealant on the window frames, in a few places, wasn't perfectly smooth. A hairline crack had started under the bracket that held the flat panel television to the wall. And when he ran a finger along the back of the radiator it already came up dusty. It all looked old, now that it was less than brand new. When Alyson finally came looking for him, he was crouched under his desk.

"OK," she said, "so you're not Simon's best friend. But that was rude."

He didn't reply. He got out his phone again, and used it shine a light on his chair.

"Send this back tomorrow," he told her. "There's loose stitching."

"I'll call them now."

"Wait. Has Simon gone?"

"Yes," she answered, pointedly. "Was it so bad?"

"Was he impressed?"

"Oh yeah."

He pushed the chair away and crawled out. Halfway to standing he spotted something else. "And there's rubbish," he pointed to underlay trimmings, "there, behind the door."

"Cleaner will get it." But Alyson turned to pick them up herself. She bent deep at the waist so her ass swelled inside her skirt, inches from his face.

"Need you to get me a cab," was his response.

"Now?"

"Problem?"

"No no," she straightened. She dropped the scraps in his bin and picked up the desk phone. While she spoke with the taxi firm he checked his tie in the window, opened his briefcase, dug through his top tray for papers he needed. "Ten minutes is fine if it is ten minutes," Alyson said into the receiver. And when she hung up she added, "I'm just surprised that you're going on time."

"Made a deal," David went back to the top of the tray and started again. "Quality time with the wife. Where's the rest of this?"

"You've got it," she pointed at the document he held. "They're clipped together."

He put them in the case and shut it. Then took one last look over the new office, to regard the built in cabinets, the sofa, the plants, the sculpture. "Could do it all again next week."

"Does she know?" Alyson asked.

"Sorry?"

"Does Lucy know about us?"

"Oh," he said, "thought you meant the decorating." He picked up the case and walked from his office into hers.

"No," she said, following. "I wondered--,"

"She knows nothing."

From the wardrobe near the exit, he took his scarf. But Alyson beat him to his coat. She took it off the hanger and held it open for him. "I'm going to see Falcons tomorrow," she said.

"If you like," David shrugged the coat onto his shoulders. "We have the conference call Tuesday."

"Can't wait." She talked while she got her own coat. "If they don't make up their minds Vosalias may change their price. Oh, and if Gaston is late when you get to Paris don't worry. He's got an agenda with the main points. There's no reason you couldn't cut that meeting by half."

David nodded. "Good."

She did her buttons. "You're sure she doesn't suspect?"

He shrugged. "Even if...,"

"Even if--?"

"It'd be biting the hand that feeds her. Feeds and clothes and don't talk to me about jewellery." Alyson was digging for keys in her bag. "I'll let you lock up," he said, and left.

Outside was cloying drizzle. The cab arrived on time but mired in traffic near the station. Football results on the radio reminded him that Falcons' MD would be presenting trophies to some school team. He emailed Alyson to say she'd better go there early. He thought about emailing again. He even went through his list of restaurant numbers, but couldn't get motivated. Profit figures like theirs deserved celebration, and while the new décor was great it wasn't enough, not given their relationship. Yet somehow it made Alyson look like the one thing he hadn't updated.

A text came from his wife as he walked through the station concourse, which he ignored. He bought a paper and boarded his train. A quick glance through the headlines made it clear nothing new had happened since he last checked online.

New things. That was the issue, not where to go for dinner. Every project, once it cleared the initial hurdles, reached a phase that left him with energy to spare. That drove him crazy. He tried to explain to Simon once, though to be fair it was shortly after he broke their partnership and stole Alyson, their most promising employee. His wife's brother was the kind who made up his mind and kept it made. Inventing phone calls was sometimes the only way to cope.

Not that David was stupid. A certain amount of reliability couldn't be avoided. So he did read his wife's text eventually, after he left the train and before he started up his car. 'Sorry,' it said, 'prayer mtg 4 Sarah Big C dr says 3 mos'. He left her a voice mail to prove he'd made the effort. To rub it in he added, 'don't worry -- I'll feed myself.'

He drove to their village and made a detour onto the high street, where luckily there was a spot for the car right outside the Moonlight Tandoori Restaurant and Takeaway. He tried to recall the last time he'd been. Light from the upstairs windows had turned every puddle in the road lurid blue. He thought nothing of that as he parked and locked the car; it was the style now. Yet oddly, when he reached the door it was dark. The foyer inside was also dark: dark and cold and empty. He swore. It was a ten mile drive to the next easy meal.

And he would have gone back to the car, but the strange blue light made him pause. Out on the street it had been arresting. Other worldly better described it now. It streamed down from the next floor, where the dining room was. If that was emergency lighting, no one could work by it. And yet there had to be something going on if the place was unlocked.

So he started to climb the stairs. Halfway to the top he thought again about turning round, because it became impossible to see. To find each step he had to feel for it with his shoe. He grabbed the railing hand over hand until it ran out and then he put out a hand to find the door frame.

As he did he thought he heard a sound. Feet walked across a hard floor above him, which made no sense because that would be the roof. The noise stopped. David waited a few moments, hoping if he heard it again he'd come up with a better explanation. But nothing happened, and the light began to make his eyes tear. He shrugged, raised his foot to take the last step. And then he remembered, too late, that he'd already figured out there wasn't going to be one.

He stumbled, and as his foot fell it stuck. What caught it he couldn't tell; he could barely push it forward, and couldn't pull it back. The ankle had turned a little, so he had to hop on the other leg to keep his balance. He stayed this way several seconds. Then all of a sudden the trapped foot remembered how gravity was meant to work and it went down hard. The sudden force threw David sideways.

The sensation that swallowed his body, as he fell, was like feeding himself through a shrink wrap machine, or floating in the Dead Sea. Except he didn't float--he sank. A thickness got inside his ears and plugged his nose. It pushed between his suit and raincoat. Last of all, his arms were sucked in, fingers crooked into claws ready to dig himself out, if that's what it came to.

But it didn't. After a few moments the air became its normal consistency and he dropped onto a hard surface, banged his head. He kept his eyes shut until the dizziness passed, and when he opened them the searing blue light had gone. But he was no longer inside the Moonlight Tandoori.

He was in another room, maybe a tank. It was grey painted metal with eight sides. He got up, walked around. He ran his hands carefully over the walls, studied the ceiling and the floor. Everything seemed smooth and solid, with nothing to show how he could have entered.

"Do you speak?"

David froze.

"Do you speak?" the voice asked again. Very slowly, he turned to look behind him, but there was nothing.

"Do you—,"

"Yes," he interrupted.

The blue light appeared again. It started as a pinpoint at the ceiling and flashed down one side of the tank to make the wall disappear. That revealed a hidden compartment, about the size of a wardrobe.

"I think you should come up," the voice advised.

David smoothed his raincoat, put both hands in the pockets. "Why?" The answer was silence. "Who is this?" It kept him waiting. His stomach growled loud enough to make an echo. "I have a right to know what's going on."

There was a sigh—a sigh!—that finally came in reply. And then, "The hold may not be safe."

"It seems fine," David snapped.

"But if we launch—,"

"Launch?!"

"--may happen, the atoms have been instructed--,"

"Launch?!"

"—might not pass through this structure without being hurt—,"

"What launch? What are you talking about?" Then the tank began to vibrate. "What?" David shouted. "What's happening!?"

"The atomic structure is being reconfigured," the voice said.

"Reconfig--," the craziness of it all made him feel odd. He moved closer to the walls in case he needed them for support and noticed the floor had turned sticky.

"Please," the voice pleaded.

"Just let me out of here!!" David bellowed.

"I can't."

Other noises were mixed in with the voice now, beeps and pips and sirens like an arcade.

"Then stop it. Stop the...launch."

"I can't do that either."

"What do you mean, can't? Who runs this? I'll talk to the person who runs this," David yelled, but sweat had gone cold on his shirt collar. He talked more sense in his dreams. The shaking grew stronger.

And as he stood there, trying not to panic, he thought he saw a calendar. It was one of those promotional gifts with a pleat in the back cover so it could stand on a flat surface. The Moonlight Tandoori had their own and this was one of them, floating level with his waist. The corners of it came and went, as if it had existential issues. And then, for just a moment, David saw it resting on a semi-transparent table near a semi-transparent window.

"What...the hell?"

"Please," the voice begged, "please come up."

He lurched toward the compartment. But he couldn't move; his shoes were glued to the floor. He pulled until his feet burst out, and lost his socks in the next two strides. The instant he tumbled into the wardrobe space, the blue light flashed and returned the missing section of tank, sealing him inside. Overwhelmed, he slumped in a corner.

## CHAPTER TWO

The compartment reopened quickly. Outside there appeared to be another room, the same size and shape as the tank but white. Directly opposite, the upper section of two walls was fitted with screens; they made the same noises he remembered hearing along with the mystery voice. Presumably the voice came from the creature that stood in front of them, looking back at him.

It had human contour; that was a strange source of relief. It was taller than David and slender, with skin the colour of a drowned corpse, right down to grey lips. It had a single eyebrow that snaked ornately round its bald head, and gill flaps where ears should be.

A chasm of time passed while they studied each other. David waited for the creature to speak, but it just stared.

"Are you in charge?" he asked it. The alien blinked twice but stayed mute. "Are you the one in control?" David spoke louder.

"No," it replied at last.

"Where is the one in control?"

The creature shook its head. "I don't understand."

"I mean, where is your leader?"

But the alien put up a hand as if to say it couldn't manage more questions. It made David want to shout until a thought stopped him, a realisation so obvious he couldn't believe he'd taken so long to have it.

"You speak English," he said.

The creature frowned. "English...,"

David enunciated. "English -- the language."

"I speak Udoric," it said.

David sucked in a careful breath, let it out. "So what do you want with me?"

"Want?"

"Why am I here?"

"You...came."

"I came for a takeaway." But however they were managing to communicate, that did not translate. The creature shook its head.

"Did you want to take me away?" David asked.

"No!"

"Does someone else want to take me away?" It didn't answer. David noticed how, during pauses, its unbroken brow would twitch. "Can't you let me go back?"

"No," it said.

"You operated this," David pointed at the compartment around him. "You opened it for me, and brought me here, yes?"

"Yes," it said.

"And there must have been another opening, somewhere in that hold, where I came in?"

"Yes."

"And you opened that."

"No."

"Then who did?" Yet more silence. David folded his arms. "Explanations aren't your strong point," he said, but sarcasm got no reaction either. "Can't you just tell me what is happening?"

"I...I don't understand," it said. And then one of the screens beeped. The creature turned its back to him. David stood up and ventured out of the compartment. He saw the screen activate itself, and present an image of Earth from space. He watched. In very short time the planet grew smaller while space grew larger, and he had to concentrate on his breathing.

"Do you have a name?" he asked the creature.

"Brahm," it replied.

"Brahm," he repeated. "And who's with you?"

"No one."

"No one?" Brahm had been touching the screens with his fingers but he pulled the hand back sharply, as if he'd been given a shock. He dropped his eyes to the floor and stood completely still.

"You're alone?" David asked again. The creature swallowed, and barely nodded. "You're alone, but you had nothing to do with me coming inside? Nothing to do with the launch?"

Brahm clasped his hands together. "I...don't understand."

"I do," David said. "I think there's something you're not telling me." And he took a step closer because he was sure, fairly sure, that the alien was afraid.

"I...don't understand," Brahm insisted.

David took another step. "You know I don't believe you."

"Believe?" The filigree eyebrow twitched like mad. David kept coming, slowly, until they faced each other, close enough to shake hands.

"I have said," Brahm told him.

"What does that mean?" The screens chirped away as if they wanted to join in. Brahm still hadn't moved so David leaned forward. "Look," he said, "All these monitors. You couldn't need them unless this...whatever we're on...is pretty big. Am I right?" The alien nodded. "How big?"

"It's an evacuation craft. It can carry the entire population of Udor."

"Udor...is that where you came from?"

"Yes."

"Is it far?" David asked, but Brahm just shut his eyes.

"Please," the alien begged.

"Oh, to hell with this!" David turned to the screens. "You can't possibly have a spaceship all to yourself that you can't control." He started to touch the monitors at random; they were very responsive. Brahm dealt with each one after he'd been, but didn't try to stop him. When he'd interfered with them all, the entire collection suddenly went blank.

"Right," said David. "That should get attention."

A polite tone pipped. Then one by one, each screen came back to life with a different image: him driving up the street in the village, him parking the car, him locking the car, him crossing the street and finally him standing in the foyer of the deserted restaurant.

"You took these."

"No," Brahm insisted.

"You did!"

"I have said."

"I have said, I have said!" David waved both hands in the alien's face. "What the hell does that mean?!" The creature cowered. It tried to back away but David followed.

"So when do you plan to stop messing around?" he snarled. Brahm shut his eyes again, as if that would make his tormentor disappear. David grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Last chance. Tell me what you did."

"I...," it gasped. But after that nothing. David gave him a shove. Then before Brahm could regain balance he came again, put his fists together and slammed the Udoran in the ribs. The thin body curled and rolled across the monitors. With one last lunge David pinned him to the wall. He got his hands round the pale throat and squeezed, squeezed until the eyeballs bulged.

"Tell me!" he shouted.

Brahm had skin so cold and yet his hands felt so warm.

"Tell me!!"

Then pain, like molten pins, drilled through his palms. David shrieked. He let go but the fire didn't stop. It raged over his knuckles and wrists and elbows, scorched up both arms to his shoulders. He felt himself fall but not land. The crown of his spine ignited and the cord burned nerve by nerve. It blazed inside his head and melted his senses; his brain flashed up final memories but all of them charred at the edges.

How long hell lasted he didn't know. Over time the heat died away, though wn his senses returned their ability was patchy. The first thing they felt was the blessed coolness of the floor on the back of his head. Then he heard the chatter of the screens. Still blind, he rolled over and pressed his face against the tiles. Shortly after that there was breathing on the back of his neck, and thin fingers prodded him gently.

"Please...," Brahm's voice, anxious, sounded miles away, "...do you think you might be dying?"

## CHAPTER THREE

When Brahm got no answer, he didn't ask again. No Udoran had ever needed to use his defensive system before now. He watched the pink alien swell, turn red and writhe on the floor making noise he could hardly stand to hear. It was too much, after everything else that had happened to him. When eventually the creature opened its eyes, Brahm was afraid but couldn't ignore suffering. He came as close as he dared.

"What happened?" his visitor asked hoarsely. Then it spotted its own hands, because they happened to by lying near its face. Brahm saw them too, the bloated flesh and oozing sores. The pink alien moaned.

"I'm sorry," Brahm said, "please tell me if you think you'll recover."

Either the creature didn't know, or felt too weak to care. Brahm waited until his back ached from stooping over, then returned to the screens. He asked them for a space configuration. "If I were back home," he said to them, "I would suggest genetic modification. The symptoms are too severe. A fever or itching could be just as effective."

A noise made him turn and see the alien's stare. It made sounds he didn't understand.

"Do you feel better?" he asked. Then Navigation beeped, and his attention was diverted. The screen gave him a view of the space through which they currently travelled. The alien's planet had disappeared, along with its sun. No other objects lay in scope, only a screen full of stars. "Perhaps we will return," he added softly.

"Can't you even turn this thing around?" his visitor asked.

"No."

"So how did you get on board?"

Brahm would have preferred not to remember. He came on board through the hold, just like the pink alien, except without falling on his head or being confused. Confusion came later. "I am the designer."

He heard the alien grunt. "You designed this ship? Designed it but can't control it?"

"I could. I had full access to all systems."

He checked to see if the alien understood. It was sucking the tip of one finger.

"So," it said, "what happened?"

This was the part he hated. He felt so guilty. "I couldn't sleep."

"Okay."

"It has always been a problem. As a child, I would lie awake when--,"

"Yeah, I'm with you," the alien interrupted, "but can we get back to the story?"

Brahm sighed. "The ship had just been finished. A government delegation would be coming to inspect when we woke, so I wanted some time..."

"A final check on things. Just you."

"Yes."

"Then?"

Then? He found nothing out of order, until he came back to this Control Room, and found every screen alive and calling for attention.

"It launched."

"How?"

Brahm lifted his hands and let them drop again to show what he'd been saying all along. "I don't understand."

"Did you try to turn back?"

"Three times. Each time I was denied access."

"Did you check your access level? Maybe it changed."

"No. It was exactly the--," he was so tense the next sound from the screens made him jolt. "Exactly the same. "So I asked for details of the launch--who had authorised it."

"Good idea."

"Someone might have seen me board the ship," Brahm pressed a hand against his ribs where he'd been hit. "And I had broken the rules."

"They'd blast you into space for a little insomnia?"

Brahm waved the other hand. He wanted that gesture to speak for him, though it would have to say a lot. The alien, meanwhile, was trying to sit up.

"So who?" it asked. "Who set off the launch?"

What made it so hard to say? Udorans were not space travellers. Space travel had failed them, stranded them on a toxic planet with a cooling sun. Any resources they found after that, any technology they developed had to keep them alive in a place that hated life. An evacuation craft was the only thing he could get permission to design.

Guilt made it hard. And that guilt was not that Brahm boarded the ship secretly. It was that he wished he could go exploring. Whenever he did sleep, he often had dreams where he clawed his way up from their underground community and speared through space like a comet.

"I did," he said, but he couldn't hear himself.

"What?"

"The commands to launch," he cleared his throat and tried again, "were all in my name."The pink alien, wobbling on its knees and elbows, slipped and landed on its stomach. It left its mouth open without using it for anything.

"Is this a joke?" it finally asked.

"Joke?"

"If you launched the ship, why couldn't--,"

"I didn't launch it."

"But you just said--,"

"I—don't—understand." Then Brahm coughed again, swallowed and neither of them spoke for his next nine difficult breaths.

"You launched, but you didn't launch," the alien said. "Your security access remained the same, but you couldn't make anything work. Oh," it pointed to the compartment, "except the elevator."

Brahm glanced at his visitor hopefully, in case it had another suggestion. While he waited there was time to consider its peculiar face, with so much loose skin that folded and bulged and had so many hair follicles. Its eyes, he thought, were so small. They always felt sharp when they looked at you, the way they did now, suddenly.

"You expect me to believe this ship launched itself?"

"...believe?"

"And that it merrily took itself to Earth, planted itself inside a tandoori restaurant, and snapped pictures of me while I walked into a deserted building?"

"Tan-doo...," Brahm frowned, "I don't understand."

"I bet you don't."

The face might be unreadable, but not the tone of voice. "Why are you angry again?""Because I don't believe a thing you've said. You haven't given me a single believable explanation for why I'm here, or why you're here, or what's happening."

Brahm tried. The problem words were 'believe' and 'believable'. He'd always been a quick learner; he could often guess meaning from context. But no matter how often he reviewed the sentences, this was a concept he couldn't grasp.

"But I have said."

"And I'm bloody sick of your 'I have said'!!" the pink alien shouted.

As a precaution Brahm moved away, but the visitor didn't prepare another attack. It stayed where it was, continued to fuss over its hands. Brahm watched it prod the skin and wince.

"Blasted sores," it grumbled.

"Would water help?" he offered. "External Systems showed your world had abundant surface water, so I wondered--"

The visitor's eyes shrank to ugly slits. Brahm turned, touched the wall so the blue light would open it and get him out of the room for a while. "I will bring you some," he said, and fled.

## CHAPTER FOUR

David woke. The room was brighter than all the previous times he'd looked, up there where the room actually was. He checked his watch and sighed. Udorans, apparently, slept below floor level in trenches roughly the shape and depth of coffins. As tired as he'd been when Brahm showed him this bed last night, he didn't think it would matter.

But it did. Sleep had been sporadic, and today he might have to run on fumes. But before anything else, he brought his hands to his face for inspection. Relief – the fingers were back to their normal size, and when he set them on the floor to help him sit up, he felt no pain. He climbed out of his trough to have a better look round.

Brahm had called this place the commander's quarters, but he couldn't be serious. The sleeping area wasn't much larger than the bed, with a bench along one wall where his clothes and raincoat lay. He now wore ship's standard issue: a grey, featureless shift. He wandered out from that room into a second spartan space with a table and more benches, presumably for meetings. Finally he came to the third and final section. Here was something like a desk and chair, the chair out of character with its surroundings because it had padding and a backrest. He sat in it. He had considered sleeping in it, every time he woke up in his coffin. But he thought that might remind him of his new office chair that was—who knows—maybe light years away.

The desk fit against a wall, over which were screens like the ones in the Control Room, cheeping and pipping and printing out text. Well, he assumed they must be words. How big was a single character? He couldn't tell. And what if they weren't letters, but more like hieroglyphs? Or maybe the whatchama...what did they call that other sort of writing?

He fidgeted against the backrest and found he could make it recline. There'd been a wedding not so long ago, and he had a memory that some relative of the groom bored him silly about ancient languages. One of them had symbols that stood for whole syllables. Udoric might be like that. Not that he'd really followed the conversation; he certainly didn't ask questions in case it kept the bugger talking.

It had been his wife's family--David remembered just as his eyes closed. Lucy's niece and her boyfriend. They had a church wedding, which he thought was daft since his wife had been the only religious one there. Though it had been a pretty church, and a pretty village. Very pretty bridesmaids. What was the tallest one called again? Kyla? Kara? She didn't like her dress because the neckline cut her tattoo in half. Turned out it was a mermaid.

He sat up with a start. He didn't think he'd dozed off but his watch told him, as soon as he could focus, that he'd been out for two hours. He covered his ears to muffle the noise that woke him. And then he uncovered them. He stood out of the chair. Noise? But it was there, overhead. Clanks like jackboots marching over sheet metal and a great roaring in the background.

He listened longer, just to be sure. That's when he made out voices. They sounded more like bellows or croaks but they definitely came from throats. Then a single, explosive crash left his ears tingling. He pushed the chair away. He made the exit walls open with a touch, the way he'd been shown, and turned left immediately to get back to the Control Room. The noise was even louder here. But Brahm stood facing the monitors, and didn't seem concerned.

"Where are they?" David asked.

The alien turned. "They?"

David pointed to the ceiling.

"The others you said we didn't have."

Brahm looked up and back at him, eyes confused.

"On the next level," he pointed more vigorously, "you know, upstairs. I knew I was right. I knew you weren't alone."

The single brow, hovering, crashed to an angry point between Udoran eyes. Not a hint of shame in the expression. "I give up," he said. "I don't know what you want."

"Visible evidence."

Brahm considered this. "Yes," he said stiffly, "I see. Visible evidence." He walked past David and reopened the exit. "Come," he said.

And he set off down a very wide, white corridor. "Look," David said, as he ran to catch up and never quite did, "there's no need to get upset." But Brahm did not slow down; his legs moved like pistons. And the other thing, worrying perhaps, was that the further they went the more the noise faded. By the time they reached the end of the passage it was perfectly silent. The Udoran touched the wall here and a compartment appeared like the one David had used. Only it was larger, and the interior covered with diagrams.

"Are these floorplans?" David asked. "Is this the ship?"

"Yes," Brahm replied. He tapped a location on one illustration and the compartment sealed itself. Then there was sideways motion.

"Look, I apologise," David tried. And he gauged the Udoran eyebrow, whether its tiny movements seemed good or bad. Maybe he stared too hard, because the alien turned his face away.

"Is this all to do with...," Brahm began, then paused. The compartment accelerated, died back before David felt it turn and thrust in another direction. "There was a word I could not understand..."

"Tandoori?"

"Believe." Brahm recalled it just as the enclosure slowed again, stopped, then rose. David felt queasy. "I've been thinking about it since we last spoke. How does it differ from trust?"

In a better state of mind and body he might have tried to answer that. As it was, the compartment came to a sudden halt once more and David needed deep, slow breaths to keep his head clear. Then the entrance wall vanished, and the subject was completely forgotten.

Spread out before him was a round surface the size of a helipad, free floating over a terrestrial landscape. Brahm stepped onto it confidently, crossed to the other side and stood with his feet dangerously close to the edge. He turned.

"Are you coming?"

David ventured as far as the centre, where the white floor had a single black spot.

"We are at the highest point on the craft," Brahm continued, as he walked along the rim. "This is the Observation Room."

"Room?" David asked. And suddenly he noticed the stillness in the air. Defying fear and leftover nausea, he joined Brahm at the limits of the circle and tried to stretch a hand out into the scenery. He couldn't.

"Right," he said.

"We've landed on another world," Brahm said, and pointed ahead. "Can you see?"

Seeing was difficult. It was night in this place. Early light was just a line along some sharp, distant cliffs. David made out the vertical thread of a waterfall that began there. It fed a turbulent river that cut a deep gorge and came at them and passed underneath. Forest covered the banks on both sides; he thought he saw fires burning in the trees.

"See what?" he asked finally.

Brahm waved his hand at a place far upstream. "The front of the ship."

David squinted into the gloom. "I can't see."

"The hold – it's sitting in the water."

His eye traced the river as far as it could. "No, nothing. Maybe if it got lighter..."

Brahm made a peculiar noise in his throat and turned away. David watched as he walked back to the centre of the room and placed his foot on the black spot.

"I assumed a creature asking for visible evidence would have better eyesight," the alien said. "I'll refocus the lens."

All colours of sky, land and water blurred. The scene, like a sheet spread over a glass bubble that he stood inside, was hoisted over his head, zoomed forward. Disoriented, he staggered. His nose bumped the invisible barrier.

Look now," Brahm said.

David peered over the hand that nursed his injury. There was plenty to see. On either bank of the river traffic swarmed. People...hard to know what else to call them. They stood on two legs but were ungainly movers. They had little clothing and a lot of body hair, in various textures and colours. Faces looked intelligent, yet fierce, with more than the usual number of cleft palates.

"Huh," David said, as Brahm returned to stand beside him. "So, do we know where we are?" The Udoran shook his head and for once, David didn't question.

"I was here earlier," Brahm confessed, "watching. I think they are punishing...but then I don't know. They have been violent."

"They look a bit primitive. Less evolved." Without looking, he could tell the Udoran was silent because he didn't understand. "Evolution? Didn't Udorans evolve?"

"Udorans...survived."

"Eh?" But suddenly a new group of creatures emerged from the trees. They marched in formations of three, straight to the riverbank. Magically, when they reached the edge their feet left the ground and they didn't fall. They strode high over the furious rapids with nothing to keep them there, and crossed to the other side. "What are they doing?"

"They are walking on the ship," Brahm replied.

"I don't see anything."

"That's because camouflage is active," he explained, "but look down."

In the middle of the river, the broiling water was displaced by a cylinder of dryness.

"The hold?" David guessed.

"The hold," Brahm confirmed. "Will all this be sufficient visible evidence?"

David rubbed his nose and pressed his fingers into his eyeballs. "Yeah, fine," he said. But when he had finished kneading his face he saw Brahm was studying him.

"Did you sleep?" the Udoran asked.

"Not well, actually."

There was another, incredible blast like the one he heard in his quarters. Smoke billowed up from the trees. Creatures began to run across the river in both directions; some kept formation but most did not. Shaved naked ones dragged sledges piled with bodies and parts of bodies.

"Bloody hell. What are we doing here?"

"I don't know," answered Brahm.

"And how long--," but he put up his hands, "—don't answer. I was thinking aloud. And I'm too tired to think."

"We'll go back," the Udoran said, "and you can rest."

Their return trip seemed to take longer. David put himself in a corner of the compartment to endure the shunt and thrust. As they came out into the long corridor three clear tones sounded, echoing off the white walls. Brahm's eyebrow flew up, and he started to run.

"What's the hurry?" David grumbled, standing where he'd been abandoned. Brahm was half way to the Control Room.

"Something has come in the hold!" he shouted.

## CHAPTER FIVE

David got to the Control Room eventually, and stood beside Brahm to watch live images presented by one of the screens. Six inches of grimy water slopped round the hold. And one of the fur coated natives, legs and arms bound, lay on the floor. Its head had been wrapped in rough cloth, which sucked in and blew out as the creature heaved.

"So..." David said.

"I did not open the hold," Brahm insisted.

"No, I realize."

"I was in the mehltrom with you. There are no controls."

"Yes, all right, all right." But Brahm was poking the screens. "So what are you doing?"

"I want to let it out."

"I thought you couldn't."

"I will try anyway."

"But if you let it out, it will die."

Brahm stopped. "It will?"

"It will drown."

"It can't adapt its respiration?"

"Probably not."

The new arrival was beginning to steady its breathing. And its mouth was moving under the cloth, as if it talked to itself. Then, with its head held stiffly out of the water, it bent its arms and began to pick the cords tying its hands. Each finger was tipped with a thin claw, which could emerge and retract.

The Udoran shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Well," David began, "I think--," But the whole wall of screens started making noise. "Now what?"

Brahm slumped and his forehead fell into a space between two monitors. "The ship is launching," he said.

"Again?"

The image of the new creature was taken away, replaced with script. Lots of script. Brahm wasn't reading any of it.

"Why aren't you trying to stop this?" David demanded. But the Udoran just closed his eyes. He didn't move and the monitors couldn't get his attention no matter how hard they tried. David waited, until he felt the familiar vibration underfoot.

"Brahm," he said, "is this creature in danger?"

The Udoran's eyes opened, but he seemed lost.

"Won't the hold get all sticky? What happens then?"

Brahm rolled his forehead back and forth, as if to get the thoughts working. "There is no temperature control," he said.

"So it will freeze."

The Udoran stood up. He gave one screen a weary swipe and the image of the hold returned. Their new guest was already shaking.

"I can't watch this," David said. But before Brahm could touch the screen he added, "I mean we need to bring it up here."

Brahm frowned. "It might be aggressive."

"I don't see why you should worry."

They went down to the hold together. Numbing water washed into the compartment when it opened, and they waded out. The creature heard them approach. It stopped clawing its bindings and its body tensed. It let out a sound that hurt the air and stopped Brahm dead. But David crept round so he stood behind it.

"It's all right," he murmured. "We just want to help. Get you somewhere warm."

The wrapped head swerved round. The fingers with their fearsome nails clenched and relaxed, clenched and relaxed. They hadn't clawed their way through the ties...yet. The creature wore an apron with straps that came over the shoulders and tied round its waist. David beckoned to Brahm, told him to grab this garment at the back while he took the feet. They half lifted, half dragged their load into the compartment, rode up to the Control Room, carried it just far enough to prop it against a wall. Brahm returned quickly to his screens.

It left David to wonder what came next. The hood. He got down on his knees and felt under the soaked fabric with his fingers. The creature went stiff again, and this time growled.

"It's all right," he said, mechanically. And he held back a moment, watching the muscles twitch along its shoulders and chest. It had very short hair, dappled brown on white, which almost concealed two rows of nipples. Once her breathing calmed down he tried again, found a knot he could loose and gently lifted the cloth away.

The creature blinked. Her pupils shrank to slits within golden irises. She looked at him, then at Brahm, then back at him.

"Which of the gods are you?" she asked.

"We're not gods," David said.

"Gods?" Brahm had found enough courage to watch proceedings. "What are gods?"

"What are gods?" David looked at him. "I might as well explain what believe means. How can you speak English and not understand so many words?"

"I don't speak English."

"You've been speaking it since I got here."

"I don't speak English," Brahm insisted.

"So what language is she speaking?" He pointed at the creature.

"Udoric."

"Then how did she just use a word you don't understand?"

"I speak Kroxan," said the new arrival. She tried again to claw the ties on her hands, but in the position they'd left her it was difficult to move without toppling over.

David went to her feet and searched for a knot in the wet bindings. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Shamana Vavnu," she replied.

The knot was too tight. He got the cloth and pulled, tried to tear it apart. It wasn't as old as it looked. "I don't suppose this ship has anything like a knife?" he asked Brahm.

"Ship?" Vavnu interrupted, "this is a ship?"

"Yes," said David, "we'll have to explain--,"

"A troop barge?"

"I can bring you something from the Medical," Brahm replied.

"No," David continued, "no, not that sort of ship. Though I'm not sure..." He looked to the Udoran for guidance but he had gone, left the two of them alone. Shamana Vavnu was using her claws and teeth to good effect. The fur on her throat and round her mouth had a silver sheen; he wondered if that said anything about her age. Then he saw trails of tears in those hairs. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and pretended to work on the knot at her feet.

"You must be gods," she whispered.

"Honestly,--" began David.

"What else could you be? How could I have been speaking to you, begging you in my heart, while I was in the river? And then, suddenly, I'm here. Unless...unless I have died."

"I don't think so."

"Or gone beyond. This could be the other journey."

"Other journey?"

"Shen."

"Shin?"

"Except all the teachers insist it begins with light, or sometimes fire. Not water. Water is meant for later."

She had punctured enough holes in her bindings for a piece to tear. The loose ends dangled and she stretched her arms towards him. David shifted himself along the floor and began to unwind them.

"How," he ventured, "did you get in the river?"

Vavnu swallowed, and took a deep breath. "The end of a long story," she said.

"Is there a war going on?"

"And on and on and on," she replied. "Sometimes I think the only reason they continue to train shamans is to treat the wounded."

"So you're a doctor?" David pulled away the final strand of the cords and she gasped with relief. She spent several minutes massaging her wrists and flexing fingers. Then she sat up without the aid of the wall and started work on her bound feet.

"But back to how you got in the river," he asked. "Did you fall off the invisible bridge?"

Her nails stopped what they were doing. "You know about the bridge?" she asked.

"It was us. It was this ship, sitting in the river."

When she lifted her head to stare at him her eyes were not the same. Up to that point, she had seemed exotic but personable. Now David felt like a man shut in a cage with a wild animal.

"You've made me a fool," she hissed. And she started to shake all over.

"What?"

She swiped viciously at her foot straps and tore them in several places. David watched. He should do something, run, hide in his bed. Not just stand there.

"I can't believe I let myself trust you." She kicked herself free and stood up. She was considerably taller that he expected.

"We haven't--"

"You have helped my enemies."

He didn't know how to answer that. He glanced behind him, to see how far he was from the exit wall.

"It is powerful magic," her lips curled back and he saw the size of her canines. "But I can do more. Take me to him."

"To who?"

"To the god who made this bridge."

"What?"

"He must be here."

"No," said David, "No. We are the only ones here."

"Only?"

It was too late to regret words. Shamana Vavnu shrank to a crouch, and a shudder rolled under her skin from neck to ankles. He didn't like the sound that came from her throat.

"Then the gods," she marveled, "might only be flesh."

And she sprang. David tried to dodge, but slipped where the floor was wet. As he scrambled to his feet her body slammed into his. The force threw them at the exit wall; he had presence of mind to reach out but not the control to hit target. And she was clawing his clothes, so he brought his arms back to defend his head. That took the impact, whatever it was he hit. At the same time her weight fell away, and she let out the same awful howl she made in the hold. David lay still, just feeling his pulse throb. He uncovered his head enough to peer out and saw Brahm's feet, so he could guess what happened.

"Gods!!" Vavnu screamed. Brahm helped him to stand. "Gods!" she wailed again, and they waited until she stopped thrashing among the pieces of torn cloth and lay with her face pressed to the floor, just as David had done. He didn't remember that he shook so much, but he must have.

"Gods...," she rasped. One last spasm seized her; her ribs heaved and then she went still.

"What is gods?" Brahm asked.

"We're not going there," David said. "The only thing you need to know about gods is that they are not us." He walked up to the prone doctor and leaned close to her head. "Is that clear? We are not gods. There are no gods here."

She began to cry again. After a while she managed to ask, "Then what is happening? Who are you? Why are we here?"

David turned to Brahm. The singular brow wouldn't budge.

"I...have...said," he pushed out each word.

"You have."

"Please could there be no more violence?"

David nodded. "I definitely need sleep now."

## CHAPTER SIX

Simon didn't know about the pothole. It was just as you turned into the car park, and with the dark and rain it looked like another puddle. Lucy forgot to say. So he drove in and the left front wheel plunged. Muddy water slopped her window. Riding in the back seat, Sophie and Elspeth squealed, giggled, and Lucy was glad they did, even though she did not, could not join in.

"Enjoy that?" Simon called over his shoulder.

Lucy pointed at the spot she wanted. "Could we go there, please?" It would hide the car behind trees, but if he got the angle right, leave a view of the front door. She had to ask her brother twice if he would back out and try again, turn the wheel a bit more. It was important – she couldn't bear to be seen. Simon never said one cross word. At the worst times, he could be made of patience.

"Uncle Simon's taking you to rehearsal," she told the image of her daughters in the rear view mirror. "Mummy's got to do some other things."

"Have you put your hoods up yet?" Simon asked. Sophie said she couldn't do up the very last button that fastened under her chin. She didn't need it, but he got out and opened the back door and leaned in and tried.

"Can you put on the light a sec?" he asked. "And remind me who I'm asking for?"

"The Redfords," she said. With the interior lit, she slumped in her seat. She looked for the pastor's old Volvo and thankfully it stood in its usual place, left of the entrance, directly under the sign for Holport Community Church.

"And these two," Simon went on, "what are they doing?"

"I'm an angel," Elspeth announced, "and I have to wear my wings."

"They don't have her wings," Lucy said, "they're going to measure her for a costume tonight."

"I have to wear wings!"

Lucy let a little sigh escape. Then she clapped both hands over her mouth -- that's how sure she was that she would scream.

"Elly will have wings," Simon assured her. "We have to go inside first."

She watched them leave. Simon carried Elly and let Sophie dawdle, stamp her boots in a few puddles. They went through the front door, and she was left with the sound of rain patting the glass. She turned off the light and put the radio on low. The newsreader was talking about a retired couple who had been kidnapped while sailing in their private boat off the coast of Africa.

At least, Lucy thought, they knew where the other was.

A few more cars arrived, the usual stragglers. Last of all came the Chinese lady who always looked like she'd stormed out of an argument. When Lucy first saw her she thought Mai was new. But Susan Redford said she'd been coming to church for eight years; she was just one of those who arrived late and left early. In spite that, someone managed to find out she was magic with a sewing machine and now she was helping them get ready for the Christmas concert.

Mai had two bolts of fabric in her back seat. She pulled out one and handed it to the teenage girl who came with her. As they went in the pastor and his wife came out. Greetings were exchanged in the doorway, but only the Redfords smiled. Lucy switched the radio off and the interior light back on, so they'd see where she was. Gerald let himself in the driver's side, while Susan shifted the girls' toys to make space for herself at the back.

Because Simon agreed to tell them the worst news up front, it was one less thing that needed to be said. Lucy needed this. The police would deal with how and when David went missing; that was their area of expertise. The long interviews she'd had, while they combed over details, had brought her to a point where she had to have her brother with her; she didn't trust herself to keep calm. Now she wanted to talk about why.

"He gets like this," she explained to Gerald. "Everything bores him. We've moved twice since the girls were born. He's moved offices and had them redecorated. He nags me to get new stuff for the house--you'd think it would be me. And you know he used to work for Simon...,"

Gerald Redford nodded. She could never look at him without hearing his catchphrase, 'no relation to Robert, of course'. It's how he introduced himself to strangers, as if they were about to suspect.

"I get the feeling it's happening again. He's been restless. And okay, we're not exactly blissful..." she faltered. Susan's hand came round her seat to pat her shoulder. "But it makes me so nervous. I'm always worrying, what does he want now? Me and the girls, we can't make life very exciting."

"Well, now," Gerald began.

But he didn't follow that with anything. It was Susan who said, "It's his God substitute."

"How do you mean?" Lucy asked.

"Sorry, that's not the right phrase. I mean it's his Grail quest, his pilgrimage," she said. "When you don't really understand inner transformation, you might still go through the motions, but use other things. Like those spiritualists who spend so much time talking to dead people, when their relationships with living loved ones need attention."

Gerald nodded.

"So then," Lucy asked, "if that's what he's doing, what would it take to shake him out? What would have to happen to make him stop throwing out perfectly good clothes and furniture?"

"Don't know," Susan replied, "but I hope it's happening now."

Lucy had to cry a bit, then. The Redfords gave her pocket tissues and talked about other things. About twenty minutes before the end of the concert rehearsal, another car arrived, hit the pothole at speed and braked right in front of the doors.

"Who is that?" she asked.

"Boyfriend," Gerald said, and a moment later the Chinese girl came running out.

"Lucy," Susan said as the girl got in the car, "if you feel you need some time away from your fellow church members, because they'll want to show their concern..."

"Yes," Lucy replied. The Chinese girl was driven away.

"Take as much as you want."

***

While those who needed rest were taking it, every stage of the return journey and descent was managed as it had been before. Once the ship reached lower atmosphere, camouflage was activated. Navigation controls landed the hold on solid ground this time, crushing stalks of harvested wheat in a field. A fox, stalking prey by moonlight, turned tail and ran away.

Then External Systems began to acquire fixed images of the surface. David heard the monitors beep, but didn't open his eyes. The images were transferred to Memory Log. This meant more noise, enough to make him groan and shift position in the upholstered chair. Then there was a third sound as Memory Log sent the pictures to all inactive monitors, along with a diagram showing the system of planets that orbited the same sun.

"Bloody hell--!"

David sat up and glared at the display. Then he blinked a couple of times in disbelief, and moved the chair closer.

"Bloody hell..."

Earth. He was sure of it. He even recognized where they were. The console made a fourth and final noise. On the monitor directly in front of him, as he watched, the picture disappeared and in the top left hand corner Roman letters typed themselves in perfect English: ACTIVATING HOLD ENTRANCE.

The chair went flying. He stumbled out his quarters and ran to the Control Room.

"Brahm--!"

No one was there. But the compartment stood open as if expecting him. He scuttled inside. His hands shook as it sealed itself and he descended. It reopened to nothing but pure, searing light, and he rushed forward with his eyes shut and arms outstretched. He grimaced at the feeling of the glutinous exit when he reached it, but pushed through anyway.

Much later, Brahm stood at the console, playing back the sequence of commands and pictures. He didn't know whether to be pleased or not.

## CHAPTER SEVEN

" **Dear Mnemosyne"**

A Film of Unknown Length

Based on a True Story (some scenes may not be suitable for nice people)

Act 16, Scene 45

INT. front seat of Noah's mother's Audi - It is late at night

NOAH MARTIN ANDREW JAMIESON, eighteen, rugby scrum half and recipient of five A levels from The Ashwalton School, Oxfordshire, is driving. TSENG XIAO XIANG, sixteen, from the same school, is the passenger. Teachers, doctors and people she doesn't like call her CELINE. Friends call her CHA CHA. She is so small that, when unhappy, she can draw up her knees under her chin and fit all of herself on a car seat, which she does now. The CAR STEREO is PLAYING. After a while, Noah reaches over to switch it off.

CHA CHA  
Why did you do that?

NOAH  
What?

CHA CHA  
The music.

NOAH  
Thought you didn't like it.

CHA CHA  
It?

NOAH  
The song, or just music.

CHA CHA  
You think I've stopped liking music?

NOAH  
(wearily)  
No.

CHA CHA  
Hope you never think I've stopped liking food, or air--

NOAH  
I thought you didn't want music playing just now.

CHA CHA  
Why not ask me?

(NOAH puts STEREO BACK ON. CHA CHA turns it off.)

NOAH  
What?

CHA CHA  
You didn't ask.

NOAH  
I didn't ask when you got in the car, either.

CHA CHA  
You didn't.

NOAH  
You didn't mind then.

CHA CHA  
How do you know?

NOAH  
So now I have to ask you every time I want to play the stereo?

CHA CHA  
That's not the point.

(NOAH does not ask the question he should, though it would help if he had access to this script. CHA CHA gets a little more unhappy; I think she may be reaching her limit. Her knees are crushing her ribs and her BREATHING is WHEEZY.)

NOAH  
God, Celine--

CHA CHA  
Don't say that!

NOAH  
Sorry, I mean Cha Cha--

CHA CHA  
I'm not talking about my name.

NOAH  
Then what?

CHA CHA  
You can't say God.

NOAH  
Why not?

CHA CHA  
You don't believe in Him.

NOAH  
It's an expression.

CHA CHA  
Not to me.

NOAH  
Since when?

CHA CHA  
You wouldn't know. You've never asked.

NOAH  
How many things do I need to ask? I'll spend all my time thinking of questions.

CHA CHA  
That's not the point.

(NOAH still does not get it. Close up on CHA CHA. You can see she's had an idea.)

CHA CHA (CONT).  
What if I asked you a question?

(NOAH glances at CHA CHA, and then eyes back to road and shrugs.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
What if I asked you to come to church?

NOAH  
(thinks about it)  
Okay.

CHA CHA  
Okay?

NOAH  
Yeah.

CHA CHA  
But you're an atheist.

NOAH  
Yeah.

CHA CHA  
That's wrong.

NOAH  
I'm not that kind of atheist.

CHA CHA  
Again?

NOAH  
I mean I just don't believe in God.

CHA CHA  
Right.

NOAH  
I don't have a thing about religion.

(CHA CHA looks out the car window a while, because she didn't expect things to get this tricky)

CHA CHA  
What if...I wanted you to go more than once?

NOAH  
Define more.

CHA CHA  
Always.

NOAH  
Every Sunday?

CHA CHA  
Don't forget Christmas and Easter.

NOAH  
I don't know.

CHA CHA  
(Accusingly)  
So you DO have a thing about religion.

NOAH  
That's different.

CHA CHA  
It's not.

NOAH  
It is. That's a lot of time you're talking about.

CHA CHA  
So?

NOAH  
If you're going to give up that much time for something, you really should believe in it. Be wrong, otherwise.

(To avoid having to say anything right away, CHA CHA switches on the STEREO and lets a LONG EXCERPT of MUSIC PLAY. This should not be the song that was actually playing at the time, because it was completely wrong for that situation.)

CHA CHA  
This could be a problem.

(NOAH doesn't reply – he doesn't dare)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
I mean, we're compatible in most other ways.

NOAH  
(hint of sarcasm)  
I guess.

CHA CHA  
Don't you think?

NOAH  
I'm too busy thinking of the next question I'm supposed to ask you.

CHA CHA  
Very funny.

NOAH  
Wish it was.

CHA CHA  
I really don't think my mom and dad would want me to keep seeing you if you weren't a regular churchgoer.

NOAH  
And that really matters to you -- what they think.

CHA CHA  
About that, yes.

NOAH  
They live eight thousand miles away.

CHA CHA  
So?

NOAH  
Okay, look --.if you want to break up, we'll break up.

CHA CHA  
(hurt)  
It would be that easy for you?

NOAH  
No—

CHA CHA  
God, I'm glad I started this conversation, then—

NOAH  
(Interrupts)  
Ah! You just said 'God'.

CHA CHA  
Bugger off, Noah.

NOAH  
And swearing.  
(He laughs)  
That's the real Cha Cha.

CHA CHA  
(shouts)  
Noah!

NOAH  
All right, all right. I just wish you'd tell me why we're having this conversation?

CHA CHA  
Stop the car.

NOAH  
Yeah, right.

CHA CHA  
(acidic)  
Stop the car.

NOAH  
We're just coming to your turn.

CHA CHA  
Stop the car.

NOAH  
I'm not dropping you off in the middle of nowhere in the dark.

CHA CHA  
I feel sick.

(NOAH puts on indicator and pulls over on the hard shoulder.)

NOAH  
You okay?

(EXT. Side of the road, looking out over ploughed fields. CHA CHA opens her door, walks to the back of the car and ducks down. Then she runs away, as fast as she can.)

NOAH  
(getting out of the car)  
Cha Cha! Cha Cha!!

EXT. the fence surrounding a field – night

(CHA CHA jumps over this fence and runs through soft dirt. She loses one of her shoes, but has to keep running because she isn't sure whether NOAH is chasing.)

CHA CHA  
(panting)  
Oh God, oh god, oh god!

Director's comment: In this scene, CHA CHA behaves like a complete bitch. Forget everything she said about church. If you've read this script from the start, you'll know the only reason she goes with her Auntie Mai to Holport every Sunday morning is because she's not eighteen yet. It's a house rule – as soon as the right birthday comes round she can do whaever she likes.

Her parents don't care about her boyfriend's religion. They care that he has rich parents and will go to a good university. They want, more than anything, to be comfortable. They want Celine to be comfortable.

What does Celine want? Apart from a new name (guess who topped the charts the year she was born?), she's not sure. But whatever it is, she wants it very, very badly. The future is a big dark space, much like the end of this scene, where we see her limping down an unlit, narrow country road, unable to see the way ahead.

***

The instant the doorbell rang, Lucy flung back the duvet and sat up. Her toes scrabbled over the carpet, searching for slippers. Please be him, she thought. She hoped the sound wouldn't wake the girls. The bell rang again as she pulled her dressing gown off the door.

"Coming, I'm coming!" she whispered.

She scampered tip toe along the hall and down the stairs, switched on the light at the bottom. The bell went a third time and the sheer impatience of it convinced her. She didn't bother with the dressing gown. She turned the bolt and threw open the door.

"David!"

"You couldn't have looked through the peephole."

"What?"

"You opened the door without checking who I was."

She did take a good look at him then. He was barefoot, with several days' growth of beard and wearing what looked like a glittery bed sheet.

"I just knew it was you," she said.

He put a cold hand on her shoulder and steered her away so he could come inside.

"Lucy, at ten thirty on a Saturday night you can't know anything. I could be any sort of maniac. You check."

Lucy clenched the knob as she turned the lock. She saw her knuckles whiten and stopped, took her hand away and hid it in her dressing gown. She turned, and saw David climbing out of his strange clothes.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly, "I've been so worried."

"Of course I'm all right. Apart from a chill."

"Where were you?"

"In a field. The one near the old mill."

"You were walking?"

"I was flying!"

"Don't shout," she pleaded, "Sophie and Elly are asleep."

"I know that."

"I just want to know what's happened."

Naked, he held out the weird costume as if it were contaminated. "I've been on a spaceship."

"What?"

"Could I borrow your dressing gown?" he asked.

"Did you say spaceship?"

"Or you could fetch mine."

"David, is this a joke?"

"No," he said, "I really would like something normal to wear."

"David, please!"

"If Sophie and Elly do wake up, it'll be because of you."

"Don't be horrible."

He dropped the clothes. "I went to get a bloody takeaway, because you stood me up on the evening we promised to spend together, and I ended up inside a spaceship."

She stood speechless as he walked past her and climbed the stairs. The bed sheet lay on the carpet. She picked it up, felt its texture and tried her best guess. Worn for a bet, bought in a costume shop, put on while drunk and his real clothes stolen? She took it to the kitchen. She squatted in front of the washing machine, opened the door and stared into the stainless steel drum. Would it need a synthetic setting?

Ten minutes later she was still there, rubbing the fabric. She wondered if he would notice whether she cleaned it or not. She let her forehead rest against the door. "Dear Lord Jesus...," she tried. But she had no idea what to ask. She just held the garment up to heaven like evidence. Then she threw it on the floor, went upstairs and tried again.

"Can't you tell me where you've really been?"

He was in his dressing gown, nothing else. He sat on the blanket box at the foot of their bed and rubbed his eyes with both hands.

"David--"

"I've been on a spaceship. Really."

"But you can't have--"

"I've been on a spaceship, but I'm here now. And I just want to forget it."

"Okay," she said. She went to his chest of drawers, took out his folded pajamas and set them on his pillow. "But what are we going to tell the police?"

"You called the police?"

"Of course."

"Damn it, Lucy,--"

"David, you didn't come home. I rang your mobile; I rang Alyson. Simon drove me round the village and that's when we found your car,--"

"Your brother Simon?"

"Of course."

"He came here?"

"I asked him."

"We agreed this." His tone was ice.

"He kept me calm. He was better with the girls."

Lucy watched him stand slowly, like an old man. He shuffled to the walk in closet. But before he entered he turned and gave her the look she hated, like he could spit on her. Then he shut himself away with their clothes. When he came out again, she was sitting on the blanket box. She was trying to remember sermons. Plenty of them were about marriage, and even when they weren't the subject usually got a mention. She always took notes, recopied them for review. But never did it give her the feeling of being equipped for anything that actually happened between them.

He had changed into jeans and trainers and a cricket jumper. "I'm going for a drive."

"The police have your car."

"I'll take yours."

"David, please."

"I need time to think."

"Can't you do that here?"

"Where are your keys?" He walked out the room as he asked the question. She didn't follow. He knew the spare set was always in the cutlery drawer, and so he'd have them before she got downstairs.

***

From the Observation Room, Brahm marveled at the sheer variety of lights in the darkness of David's planet. Some were stationary. He thought it strange how so many stood in linear formations, while others crowded together in no obvious pattern. Then there were lights that moved. These often went in pairs, though he did see a single blue source that pulsed. Patches of vapor had started to collect near the ground in areas of low elevation, but these were not dangerous. He saw three creatures emerge from the fog without breathing apparatus or protective clothes.

Shamana Vavnu, sitting beside him, suddenly sighed.

"You are unhappy," he remarked.

"This place reminds me of home."

"In what way?"

"The trees."

"What is trees?"

She put one of her long nails on the viewing lens, and traced around an object illuminated by a stationary light.

"You do not have trees on your world?" she asked him.

"No."

"Does something else grow on the surface?"

He frowned at the question. "I have been on the surface only once."

A pair of the moving lights drew close enough for Brahm to realize they were fixtures on the front face of a metal projectile. It stopped very close to the tree.

"Space holds so much new," he murmured, "so much." He turned away from it all, to give his mind a rest. He went to the focal adjuster on the floor in the middle of the room, and tried to decide what he wanted to see next.

"It would help if I could understand how I came here," he said, "how the ship functions without me."

"I did make a suggestion," Vavnu replied.

Brahm nodded. "You said it was gods."

"What else could it be?"

He had the toe of one foot on the adjuster.

"When you first arrived, you thought I was gods."

"I don't think that now," she said.

"But why did you? Is gods like me?"

When Shamana Vavnu walked she made faint tapping noises. She came and sat facing him.

"How could it be possible that you have no concept of this?" she asked. But he left her waiting without an answer. "A god may appear to be anything, anything at all. Or nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing anyone can name."

Brahm looked out at the planet's surface. "Most things are nothing I can name," he said. There were creatures like David emerging from the projectile under the tree. They leaned against its exterior, and one of them held a very small object with an orange light at the tip.

"Do gods speak?" he asked.

She responded strangely, by tipping back her elegant head to stare at the stars. "Do they?" she demanded. "Do they?!" She looked expectant, and so he watched the sky with her. Up there, a cluster of five lights moved as a group, slowly gliding through the atmosphere. She did not seem interested in them.

"Doctor?" he asked, when they had been quiet some time.

She sighed again. "I'm sorry. The events that led to my...to my coming on board, have unsettled me. I don't know what to tell you. I would like to say yes, gods speak. I would like to say they've spoken to me."

"But?"

"But it isn't that simple."

Brahm nodded, as the collection of sky lights became blurred and disappeared. "Is it possible you could speak to gods?" he asked, "for me?"

The pupils in her eyes expanded and filled their sockets. "Here?"

He held up his hands. "If the location isn't suitable--,"

"No," Vavnu told him. "It's not that. Not as far as I know. It's just...you don't know what you're asking."

"I don't," Brahm admitted. "I've done everything I know. And not knowing so much, for so long, is becoming difficult."

"I may not be able to change that."

"I only need you to try."

He pleaded, though he expected to be turned down, or at least be told to wait. But instead Vavnu got down in a squat, facing the dark planet outside. She interlocked her fingers behind her neck. "Do not try to copy me," she warned. "If I have any success, it may be possible to teach you and perhaps bring you to a point--," She arched her back, tilted her head to view the stars again. "At any rate, the gods are never obliged to reply immediately, or in a way you expect. You wouldn't be prepared."

Then she shut her eyes. Brahm watched obediently. There wasn't much he could have imitated, because she seemed to be forming words with her lips but not speaking. He wondered how uncomfortable it was to hold that posture. And sometimes his attention was diverted by the continuing light show on the planet. The metal projectile remained by the tree, but it had gone dark now, and he couldn't see the creatures who came out from it. He caught minute, shadowy movements behind trees and where the ground was uneven or textured. They were so quick he wasn't always sure what had occurred. He did think there were fewer moving lights now.

And then they disappeared. The lights, like little solids melting, spread out in the blackness and were swallowed by it. Everything went black, and yet the blackness was not uniform. There was enough variation in color so he could see how it all seemed less like atmosphere and more like water. This fluidity gyrated and fluxed, gyrated and fluxed. Brahm shook his head at the malfunction. Careful not to make noise on the tiles, he went to the screen near the compartment wall and asked it to return the lens to its default settings. He got no response. He tried again. The monitor emitted an extended note and went blank, as if power had failed.

He checked that Shamana Vavnu had not been disturbed. She remained as she was, in the gloom created by the oily backdrop of the lens. "Doctor?" he whispered. And then he couldn't say more. He couldn't feel his tongue. He put a hand to his throat and lips but they were numb.

-COME. SEE.-

He looked behind him, then at Vavnu, all round but he could not see what spoke those words. Yet they were clear, so clear they started vibrations that moved down the muscles on both sides of his neck and along his spine.

-COME. SEE.-

But he couldn't move. It felt as though his skeleton was coming lose, the bones detaching without pain and floating in correct relation to the others. He didn't know what to do. And yet when he thought about being back in the middle of the room, there he was.

-COME. SEE.-

And then he could see himself, the top of his own head from the back, and he was aware that this should be extremely upsetting. But he couldn't react. In his head, he thought, in the head he was watching, the ability to feel those things must have been left behind along with the brain. His brain, sending signals nobody heard, because now he was – who?

And where?

He stood in a dark place. The surface was a black conglomerate pressed flat. The air blew cold. Not far away a light appeared, a bluish glow that illuminated a face. The face bobbed up and down, approaching him, all the while its eyes cast down and it did not see him. It looked distressed. Brahm tried to speak, and maybe he did. It wouldn't matter if he had. He would have been drowned out by the noise that happened in the next instant: the roar, the scree of mechanical friction and a thud. The face disappeared, and Brahm faced two blazing lights.

They were fixtures on the front of a projectile, like the one he'd seen at the tree. And just like that one, it expelled a creature from an opening on its right side. The creature scrambled into the glare of the lights and crouched. And that's when Brahm saw both faces. The face that had glowed with blue light was now connected to a body, sprawled on the ground with its eyes closed. The face of the creature from the projectile was David.

David spoke but they were meaningless sounds. The creature lying down did not respond. Eventually he picked it up, carried it out of the lights and inserted it into the projectile. Then he got inside as well.

-SHEN.-

Vibrations passed through Brahm again, and with the speed of dreaming he found himself standing outside the ship, with his hand resting on the exterior wall of the hold. His touch had activated the entrance so it glowed, but he did not go inside. He waited, watching the familiar radiance of the entrance and knowing. This was not knowing in the sense of being made aware of a fact and adding it to the facts one already had. This was a certainty that couldn't be traced back to learning. But it felt so strong that when David appeared on foot, carrying the creature that had lain in front of his projectile, Brahm was not surprised. And the face of the new creature, when it passed close to his, made him warm with recognition.

He did not know how he returned to the Observation Room. What concerned him, as soon as he recognized the surroundings and noticed that the lens was functioning normally, was that he had not completely returned to his body. He was behind it, not fully outside and not fully in. He could feel blood straining the veins in his temples, and knew he would be dizzy. He thought he heard his mother's voice, coming up from the floor, asking him to come home. As he sank into himself and full vertigo, the pitch and accent changed and became the voice of Shamana Vavnu. And he wanted to turn his head and look at her but it was not possible.

"Are you well?" she was asking, "Are you well?" But it went dark once more.

## CHAPTER EIGHT

He opened his eyes and closed them, not much longer than a blink. It was enough to glimpse the doctor's face and know that she did not look pleased.

"You must keep still," he heard her say. Had he moved? He was the occupier of his body again, the owner of all its pain. Everything hurt. And Vavnu was pressing, pressing along his brow ridge where it hurt most. He tried to look at her again.

"Can you speak?" she asked.

He swallowed and made a noise, but only because swallowing hurt as well.

"Tolerate the pain a while," she urged. "Tell me what happened."

"I don't understand," he rasped.

"You must try." But it took him a long time to describe the behavior of the lens, and the experience of not being himself. Then he asked for a short rest, before he told her about the images and sounds, the words that spoke themselves.

"Who spoke to you?" she asked.

"Who?"

"The god that spoke to you. It will give its name."

And he thought back. "Shen," he said.

"Shen is not a god."

"It isn't?"

"No. Shen is a process. A journey, an evolution."

"Shen," he repeated the word to himself.

"It must have told you."

He was feeling so tired. "Maybe...I haven't remembered."

"You wouldn't be able to forget."

"But what about you?" he asked. "What did it say to you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" The doctor shook her head. "Then why...?"

"Why, how, who?" she said. "I don't know."

Brahm closed his eyes again. He listened to the sound of a single, sharp fingernail tapping the tiles. "Then we failed," he decided.

"Not entirely."

"We still don't know how the ship is controlled."

"No," she said, "but we know David will return." And she was watching him when he opened his eyes, and before he could come up with a question she explained. "You won't understand that, if you have never understood gods. The images you saw are events that will happen in the future."

"When?"

"I don't know that either."

"Can you tell me anything," Brahm pleaded, "about what happened to me?"

The doctor eyed him warily. "Possibly," she began, then seemed to have second thoughts. "I feel...," her tapping nail tapped faster, "...this could be a symptom, but it's too early...."

"Please."

"And the last time it happened was so long ago. Hundreds of years."

"Do you keep records?"

"You saw the fires. We can't rely on writing, so records are memorized and passed on. A few stories come in different versions, so it's hard to know what's true."

"What do your stories say about this?"

Still she rapped her nails on the floor, and Brahm wished she would stop for the sake of his head when suddenly she did. "How do you feel?" she asked.

He frowned. "The pain is bad. How long will it last?"

"Do you think you could move as far as the compartment?"

"Perhaps," he said.

"And if we went to Medical, is there a way I could sedate you?"

"Sedate?" Brahm tried to roll over, but as soon as he did his vision blurred. He had to put his head back on the floor.

"Sedate," Vavnu said.

"I have to sleep?"

"It would be better."

"I don't think I can move."

"I'll help you." He felt her grab his feet and drag him. He entered the compartment on his stomach.

"But the ship...,"

"What could you do with the ship?" Vavnu asked. She must have chosen a destination from the floor plans, because he felt the wall solidify against his shoulder. "The ship will take care of itself."

And he expected it probably would.

***

When David got in Lucy's car her mobile was lying on the passenger seat. He checked her previous calls and found Alyson's number. Four rings and halfway through the voice mail his partner picked up the line but said he hadn't got her out of bed. They met outside the office. Unlike his wife, she didn't beg for explanations. She just handed over her security pass and told him Falcons had signed, which was good, but Gaston wasn't buying the excuse she'd invented for the missed meeting. He promised to send an email.

With that intention he unlocked the door and went upstairs. Alyson's computer was closest so it got booted up and provided the only light. The problem came when he sat down in front of it and tried to compose a message. He got as far as 'Bonjour Gaston' and the words 'I apologize' before he mowed it all down with the backspace key. What he wanted was a fix that didn't imply guilt, since he didn't feel any. Alyson's thesaurus had no better suggestions. He made and drank an instant coffee, hoping an idea would sneak up on him. He put on a desk lamp to read Falcon's contract, looked at the new letterhead proofs, played a game. None of it helped. Finally, he told himself it would all be simpler in daylight and shut the machine down.

It was half past twelve when he got back in the car. He stopped at twenty-four hour services to buy a caffeine drink and sandwich. The drink helped. His journey up the motorway felt fine. But on the slip road, where he saw the first sign for the town, and in town the turn for the village where he lived, only then his mood give way to sleep deprived jitters. Lucy, Simon, Gaston, his daughters, the police – he would have to give them all a consistent story. That didn't seem right when dealing with such different people. Some were easy to work, but others.... He felt worse the closer he got to the house.

So he turned off. At the junction just before the village he took a right instead of left. It led him down a gloomy back road, wide enough for one vehicle with passing places. He had half a mind to pull over and eat the sandwich, but first he needed to satisfy the desire to flee.

The tarmac was lumpy with tractor mud but he reached spurts of fifty, fifty-five. He came to another crossroads and the car had to skid to hold the bend. It was working. Fear faded with each corner, as he worked the gears. Car and road and sky were all black and pretty much a single thing, a void. He laughed when the sandwich packet flew off the seat and dropped between clutch and brake. He reached for it with one hand, but couldn't get a grasp. He tried to dig it out with his shoe.

Most drivers would have hit that girl. That was his thought, when she appeared from nowhere. He swerved, and would have missed except the stupid kid had white ear buds stuck in her head – you couldn't miss them in the lights. She obviously didn't hear a thing until the last second, then panicked and moved the wrong way. What chance did he have?

If he had any thoughts after that, they got away. They left a blank, another void, but he caught up with them around 2am, once Lucy's car was parked and the lights and engine cut. He looked over his shoulder, saw the broken body of this girl that he'd laid out on his back seat. He shouldn't have called her stupid. She would have parents: he knew how he'd feel if the same thing happened to Sophie or Elly. That was why he had to make the decision he did.

Medical—he'd heard Brahm use that word several times. And Shamana Vavnu was a doctor. He was in enough trouble already. There was only one place he dared take his victim.

He carried her across the road and into the field. It was easy to find and follow the footprints he'd made only hours before. He walked to the place where the ship's hold left its mark, like the winter version of a crop circle. There was, of course, every possibility the evacuation craft had gone, gone to find a better planet with more cooperative species. But he didn't give that great odds. This felt fated. He was seized by a sense of gothic helplessness as the blue light began to glow in front of him.

Vavnu met him in the Control Room. "Put her on the bed," was all she said. She pointed at a levitating surf board. He hesitated—no idea why—so she took the body from him.

"I hit her with my car," he said.

"We know," Vavnu replied. She laid the girl on the pallet, felt along her arms and legs for breaks, then opened the wall to the long corridor. "We'll need you to come too," she said to him, "for reference."

***

After treatment was finished the doctor found herself the only one awake. Brahm lay sedated on a pallet behind her. She had to insist. He would have neglected his own recovery otherwise, staggering in and out the room to fetch, set up and tell her about every machine and tool available in Medical. Impressive things, certainly, but most weren't needed.

Because the girl had been interesting. More than interesting. Shamana Vavnu went closer to her bed, lifted the cover away from the naked body to see surgical scars that were already fainter, smaller. Now it was quiet, now that she didn't have two overwrought men rushing around, babbling and needing more help than they gave, perhaps she might consider...

But then she saw David from the corner of one eye, on the bench where she finally made him stay. His head had drooped forward into his chest, but did he stir? As she put the cover back over her patient she heard him mumble something. Then he gasped like he'd been slapped, and when she looked properly he was sat up, wide eyed.

"Are you well?" she asked.

He let out a moan, rubbed his face hard with the flat palms of both hands. "We launched," he said.

They were back where they left off. "Yes," she tried not to sound weary, "we launched." At least this time he didn't flap his arms or shout or punch walls, so maybe she wouldn't need to show her claws.

He sighed. "I thought..."

"No," she stopped him, "thinking isn't going to make sense of it."

"But why let me go?"

"Why come back?"

"I was trying to make things better."

"Maybe you have." He gave her a fierce stare, but she bared her teeth and forced him to drop his eyes.

"So which god is it?" He attacked with sarcasm instead.

"It's not a question of—,"

"Well that's all Brahm could talk about, wasn't it? Gods, gods, gods."

"He doesn't know what the word means."

He mimicked her. "He doesn't know what the word means."

"And neither do you."

"So you're the great authority, then." She tried to interrupt, but he only got louder, "No, wait, I see what's happened. I go away and you fill his head with all kinds of crap -- predicting the future, having visions – all stuff he can't understand. Which is perfect because he'll never be able to argue with you."

She could not believe what she was hearing. She walked away, to the other side of the girl's bed. All her clothes had been washed and lay with her bag on table nearby. The doctor picked up each item and placed it back down in a different arrangement.

"A short while ago you were begging for my help," she remarked.

"Yes, well,..." he said. "Thanks anyway."

Thanks anyway? The hair down her back and tail stood stiff.

"If I was so interested in having authority," she forced herself to keep her voice soft, "I'd only need to slit your throat while you slept."

"You could still do that."

"I could." She came halfway back toward him, and he watched every step. "So if time goes by, and you don't have so much as a scratch, you'll just need to find a new theory."

## CHAPTER NINE

" **Dear Mnemosyne"**

A Film of Unknown Length

Act 16, Scene 46

INT. a room inside 'Medical', or so THEY tell me.

CHA CHA sits on her bed, which weighs less than she does and floats like a magic carpet. She has made short, surreal journeys around this room and into the corridor. THEY have told her she isn't allowed to go further just now and for once, she's not tempted to disobey.

The cast list of THEY:

SHAMANA VAVNU – Cat woman, but nice. Apparently saved me from death by chanting an ancient poem and tracing shapes in the air above my injuries.

BRAHM – Can use some of the medical equipment and did, but insists he isn't qualified to treat his own species, let alone mine.

DAVID – I'm told he gave me mouth to mouth and cut some dressings. Yes, it could be worse; he could be ugly as well as old. Don't know how I'll recover from that.

(THEY are all with CHA CHA as the scene opens. BRAHM has moved her bed so she can touch a screen that's built into the wall and see pictures of herself looking like a corpse. VAVNU is praying over a cup of water. DAVID is quiet. You'll see -- that's just as well.)

VAVNU  
(hands me the water)  
And may it restore you.

CHA CHA  
(taking water)  
Thanks.  
(to Brahm)  
Are there any games on your monitors?

(David snorts at this. Proper farm animal.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
What?

BRAHM  
There are.

CHA CHA  
(to David)  
You thought he wouldn't have games.

DAVID  
I thought he wouldn't know what a game was.

BRAHM  
There are modules for children, so they can continue their studies on board.

DAVID  
See?

CHA CHA  
Better than nothing.

BRAHM  
But you need to read Udoric.

CHA CHA  
Do you have a module that could teach me?

BRAHM  
You could learn to read and write.

CHA CHA  
Cool.

DAVID  
For God's sake.

BRAHM  
Then you could advance to other subjects. There is a history of Udor--

DAVID  
Bet that's fascinating to read. Just like your film script.

CHA CHA  
What? That was private! How much did you--?

DAVID  
Enough.

(CHA CHA mimes strangling him)

DAVID (CONT.)  
What? What else am I supposed to do for entertainment?

CHA CHA  
You took advantage of a sick person.

DAVID  
Oh, get over it. It's teenage stuff in a notebook, not art.

BRAHM  
Celine, I've started the first module for you.

CHA CHA  
Call me Cha Cha.

DAVID  
Special privileges.

CHA CHA  
People who respect me call me Cha Cha. You call me Celine.

BRAHM  
This is the alphabet.

(VAVNU leans in close to watch)

CHA CHA  
(whispering to her, but I don't care if DAVID overhears)  
You can call me Cha Cha too.

Director's comment: So then DAVID leaves the room, because he knows he's not wanted. And it's like the air improves. We're happy, the three of us, learning our Udoran characters. BRAHM has already shown me diagrams of the ship, and it's awesome. I know VAVNU's story and BRAHM's, how they got here. They are both amazing. There's only one way you can look at it: we are meant to be together. Think of what happened to me -- what if I hadn't argued with Noah? I didn't even know I was going to. Or what if he stopped the car earlier? However you look at it, it's incredible.

Act 16, Scene 47

INT. same, but a few hours later

CHA CHA is still sitting on her bed in front of the monitor. To help her memory, she is reciting new Udoric words out loud. There are parts of the body (internal and external), family relationships and a list of opposites. Hot, cold, tall, short, quick, slow, that sort of thing. DAVID enters. CHA CHA ignores him. She bets he was hoping to find her asleep, so he could steal her notebook.

CHA CHA  
(reciting)  
Up – ome. Down – has. Old – nemit. Young—ben. Open – Leris. Closed – bresome.

DAVID  
You learn fast.

CHA CHA  
(still ignoring him)  
Near – ete

DAVID  
Too bad, really, when you consider all the words you won't be learning.

CHA CHA  
Far – ti ete

DAVID  
Because you know what Brahm's planet is like? I thought you might, seeing how you're in with him, and he gets to call you a different name.

CHA CHA  
Many – sahmom. Few – lis.

DAVID  
They live underground, so there's no weather. You won't get a word for rain or snow or wind or sunshine.

CHA CHA  
(having come to the end of the list, she goes back to the beginning)  
Nose – melis.

DAVID  
No plants or animals.

CHA CHA  
Eye – brahm.

DAVID  
And since he still asks me what I mean by believe, it's not a bad guess they don't do anything that's imaginary. So no drama, no games—except educational, of course—no poetry--no song writing. They might have music. No religion—that's one plus. No dancing. That isn't make believe, but I'll bet you they don't.

CHA CHA  
Can you only see the bad side of things?

DAVID  
I'm telling you how it is.

CHA CHA  
I don't need you to tell me anything.

DAVID  
Oh really? So you tell me -- what's the situation?

CHA CHA  
The situation is we're here.

DAVID  
And?

CHA CHA  
And I should have died, because of you. But I didn't.

DAVID  
And?

CHA CHA  
And this is my new life.

DAVID  
What about your old life? The one where you're only sixteen, for God's sake. The one you haven't even started living?

(CHA CHA wants a smart answer. She does know all this, obviously...but she doesn't think of anything to say quickly enough.)

DAVID (CONT.)  
The life where your auntie Mai is probably going crazy with worry.

CHA CHA  
You got all that from my notebook.

DAVID  
I figure we've been gone a week. Your auntie will have phoned the police, your school, your parents. What do you think -- would they have flown to the UK by now?

CHA CHA  
(going back to her lessons)  
Dedu – ear.

DAVID  
And Noah? You were a bitch all right. He'll be blaming himself for this.

CHA CHA  
You should be blaming yourself.

DAVID  
Why do you think I'm still talking to you? I want to fix things.

CHA CHA  
You've fixed them.

DAVID  
Not the way I wanted.

CHA CHA  
Look, if you wanted me to have my old life, why didn't you take me to a normal hospital?

DAVID  
Because I guessed, and I was right, that this ship has some serious technology, stuff you wouldn't get in any hospital. If I hadn't brought you here, you would have died.

CHA CHA  
And that was all down to technology.

DAVID  
Well, of course it—oh, please don't say you think the way she does.

CHA CHA  
'She' has a name.

DAVID  
Yes, Shamana Vanvu has a name. But her thinking is about ten centuries behind the modern world.

CHA CHA  
Then how would you explain why I'm alive? The doctor had never seen any of the medical equipment before.

DAVID  
Brahm knows his stuff. He built this entire ship.

CHA CHA  
You mean designed.

DAVID  
Whatever.

CHA CHA  
Yeah, whatever. So, next time I get sick, I'll phone the hospital's architect. Or are you going to tell me you performed the surgery?

DAVID  
No, I--.

CHA CHA  
(interrupts)  
No, because Vavnu says you were pretty much useless.

DAVID  
I would have been in shock.

CHA CHA  
Recovered yet?

DAVID  
(tries the pleading approach...a little)  
Look, you don't strike me as the New Age type.

CHA CHA  
Never said I was.

DAVID  
Shamana Vavnu means well, but...,

CHA CHA  
(interrupts again)  
Never said I thought it was Vavnu who made me recover.

DAVID  
What are you saying, then?

CHA CHA  
I'm just saying it's all weird. Everything that happens on this ship probably shouldn't.

DAVID  
Yes ...

CHA CHA  
And doesn't it feel incredible?

DAVID  
I wouldn't use that word myself.

CHA CHA  
(throws up hands in frustration)  
Seriously? None of this means anything to you? I got hit by your car a week ago, and now I'm completely okay. No scars, no limp, no physiotherapy. That is not normal.

DAVID  
So?

CHA CHA  
What do you mean, so? Why doesn't it affect you?

DAVID  
It doesn't affect me because I have two little girls, right? Sophie and Elspeth—they are seven and four. I have a wife and two mortgages and a really successful business that isn't going to run itself.

CHA CHA  
Yeah, but--,

DAVID  
But what? It would be OK to dump all that because real life just isn't 'weird' enough?

CHA CHA  
Maybe your situation's different.

DAVID  
Want me to pass on that message to your mum and dad?

CHA CHA  
(fierce)  
You won't get to see my mum and dad!!

DAVID  
Maybe. But weirder things have already happened.

## CHAPTER TEN

Alyson checked her make-up in the rear view mirror. There had been too many cars in David's driveway, so she parked down the road near the church. The rising sun would need a few more minutes to clear the steeple and thaw out that part of the village. Rigid frost covered everything, made the gravestones look like cryogenic experiments, and seemed to sharpen the sound of her door closing and her shoes on the pavement.

A female officer opened the door to the house. She took Alyson's name, let her inside and escorted her to David's study, where more police were going through his desk. Alyson asked about the office security pass. The detective who rang her yesterday said they'd found it in Lucy's car, and promised she could collect it.

But now this woman said she'd have to check. Could she ask some questions first? They were much like the questions that had already been asked.

But that wasn't a real problem. The officer was only doing her job. Enquiries stayed on the same theme: had David done or said anything, anything at all seemed unusual or out of character? Had there been any hints dropped? Had she noticed any change of interests, unusual purchases, times when he seemed distracted? Were there subjects he suddenly wouldn't discuss?

And Alyson worked hard to keep her mind on 'the incident' when replying. She was careful not to hesitate or repeat herself. She set up her laptop, connected to their on-line planner and showed them all his commitments, right down to dental check-ups. It was a disappointment to them, she could tell. Appearances were normal. They showed her papers and objects they'd found in the study, but heaven knew how they thought those would provide a breakthrough.

It used up an hour. When told she could leave, Alyson asked for her pass again. The policewoman threw her colleagues a look that might have meant anything. She took Alyson to the kitchen, switched on the kettle, and told her to help herself to the jar of instant coffee on the worktop. Then she went back to the study.

Well, that wasn't a problem either. The coffee was awful, like the taste of the whole damn weekend. Alyson leaned against the counter, thought about what she hadn't said. That wasn't being deceitful because none of it had anything to do with...it was just him. He went in cycles: hot, cold, hot, cold. Hot used to be reserved for her. No way would she admit to some self-important blond in a bullet proof vest that she'd noticed a chill.

After twenty minutes of waiting, Alyson believed the time had come to stage some kind of protest against her treatment. If the police wanted to speak with her, they'd have to search the house. It made the female officer a little abrupt when she finally found Mr. Travis' business partner in the family room built over the garage, chatting with his wife and two of her friends from church.

"We need to hold the pass," the policewoman said. "Officers will visit the business premises tomorrow or the day after, and they'd like you to meet them."

"Can I ring tomorrow to find out?"

"We'll call you."

Alyson agreed, but as soon as the woman left she muttered, "How they think I'm supposed to manage..."

"Just glad you are managing," Lucy said, "one less thing to worry about."

Alyson thanked her. She took small sips of coffee, now she had no place to go. She allowed herself to enjoy the photographs on the walls: Sophie's first school picture, Sophie and Elspeth on a grey pony, one or the other as bald infants, Elspeth watching Sophie blow out birthday candles. Over the sofa behind Lucy's head both girls wore red velvet and graced a framed 20x30.

"That was done a fortnight ago," Lucy saw her looking and remarked to her friends. "You know the derelict house down Chancery? It's been converted to a studio."

"It's lovely," Alyson said, interested to notice she meant it. She waited a little longer, though the conversation became a run-down of village comings and goings. When her cup was empty she said the necessary things, allowed for tears and gave Lucy David's old mobile, which saved her having to recycle it.

Outside, sun shone on her face. Weak sun, not what it had been, but all right. On the other side of the street the houses looked warmer, more colorful. Only the churchyard remained in shadow.

On the cold lawn, there was a single dark tombstone near the pavement. It stood at an angle on a mound of turned soil, as if the groundsman was preparing to move it. She hated that. Old slabs got stacked in unseen corners, so the dead who were forgotten could be replaced by the dead no one thought they could forget. By the time she reached the car, she could just read the inscription. At first she thought she was seeing things. Then she drew a sharp breath, turned away to unlock her car and shut herself safely inside.

When the passenger door opened she jumped.

"Oh my god!!"

Simon's face appeared in the opening, gave her a worried look. "There's a nice tea room in the next village," he said. And he sat down, buckled his seatbelt.

She struggled a moment with the steering lock. "Where were you hiding?" she asked, when she turned the ignition.

"Hiding? I drove my nieces to school." He pointed at the junction ahead. "Left up there. Got any new furniture you need me to admire?"

She didn't answer. She followed his directions and stopped the car outside another church. The tearoom was a quirky stone appendage at the back, and they had the place to themselves. Alyson took a table while Simon ordered.

When he came to join her she warned him, "Small talk over. Let's establish boundaries," and he had nodded in agreement. "This is all weird, and definitely not like David. But it doesn't mean I'm prepared to tell you anything about the business."

Simon kept on nodding while he arranged his napkin on his lap.

"I hope that won't kill conversation," she said.

"No," he replied.

"Good." A waitress came to set out crockery. Alyson smiled while she did, and thanked her as she left. Then she poured milk in Simon's cup. "So what did you want to say?"

Simon planted his elbows on the table. "Who's he talking to, if it isn't you?"

"I don't get you."

"He told Lucy he'd been on a spaceship." Alyson puckered her lips, and then shook her head. "Well, exactly. When he lies, his lies are usually plausible. Wouldn't you say?" She wouldn't. She glared at Simon.

"And I didn't think he'd have any reason to lie to you," he added.

"He hasn't."

"So what did he tell you when--,"

"He didn't. I didn't ask. I just gave him my pass."

Simon lifted the lid off the pot and stirred the leaves. "There's something we haven't shown the police," he said, as he poured. Tea gurgled, made fragrant steam. Alyson lifted her cup but kept her eyes on the liquid, the pattern on the ceramic. She gave him one glance, as if she just about cared.

"When he came back Saturday night," Simon went on, "he was practically naked, except for this...I don't know, like a hospital gown."

"Hospital gown?"

"Now I remember what he was wearing when I visited you Thursday. New suit."

"New to you," Alyson corrected.

"And watch, shoes, mobile..."

"Obviously."

"So where did they go? Not in his car, not at the office. How, why did he lose them?"

"Didn't Lucy ask?"

Simon snapped a shortbread finger in two. He offered her half. "What do you think?" he said.

"I don't know."

"David likes women to shut up and be grateful for whatever he decides to give them," his brother-in-law said, and dunked the biscuit in his tea. When she didn't reply he added, "discuss."

"I won't."

"It's not a business question."

"It's trying to undermine a business."

"Rubbish," he said with his mouth full. "Do I want my sister short of money? Or losing her home, on top of everything else?"

"What do you want?" Alyson asked.

"You were the best person who ever worked for me."

"Thank you."

"If it came to it, you could run Travistock Wines."

"Boundaries," she warned.

"In fact, given the situation we're in, I'd prefer it."

Alyson put her cup down. "Enough." She would have grabbed her bag, but Simon got his hand there first. "Let go," she ordered, "now."

"I'm trying to tell you something important."

"You're trying to get between us."

"Me? What about the girl?"

"What girl?"

"The girl who – you don't know about her?" Simon let his hand slip away, but she didn't move. "I assumed the police would tell you."

Alyson pictured the tombstone, and the only word on the moldering surface she had been able to read: LOVE. All the questions the officer had asked—had she noticed any change? His tone of voice, now and then, being the same one he used calling home. Hints dropped? He didn't quite forget her birthday, but the flowers and chocolates came late, and that was all she got. Subjects he avoided discussing? Everything except work.

She pushed her cup across the table for a refill.

## CHAPTER ELEVEN

" **Dear Mnemosyne"**

A Film of Unknown Length

Act 16, Scene 48

INT. The feeding station, a short walk down the corridor from the Control Room.

The feeding station is a room waiting to be decorated, like all the rooms on board. The floor space is filled with plain communal tables and benches. There are niches in the walls where smaller groups could sit. And near the entrance is a wall fitted with dispensing units. CHA CHA and BRAHM enter.

CHA CHA has been given a tour of the ship, top to bottom. It's gigantic. She walked some of the way, and when she got tired she rode on her floating bed. The most incredible place, by far, was the Observation Room. The ship is now far from Earth, far from the solar system. When CHA CHA stood under that dome, looking out at so much space, she suddenly became aware of so much space looking back at her!

But this part of the tour, the feeding station, has been left until last. It's very possible this will be less of a pleasure and more of a duty. CHA CHA and BRAHM stop in front of the dispensers.

BRAHM  
Are you ready?

(CHA CHA is about to say something, but decides that might seem too enthusiastic. On the other hand, not speaking would seem sullen. She decides to make a noise no one could interpret.)

BRAHM (CONT.)  
The dispensers are simple to--

(There is a noise from the back of the room, which was supposed to be empty. CHA CHA makes a quick circuit on the floating bed and finds DAVID lurking in one of the niches.)

CHA CHA  
All right?

DAVID  
November 18th.

CHA CHA  
What?

DAVID  
November 18th. That's the date I think it is.

CHA CHA  
OK  
(turns her bed round and floats back to BRAHM)

DAVID  
(calls after her)  
Soon be Christmas.

(If he was hoping for a reaction, too bad)

DAVID (CONT.)  
Remember Christmas? That holiday where you spend time with your family, and there are lots of pretty colored decorations and you get to eat really GOOD food?

CHA CHA  
(to Brahm)  
Just ignore him.

BRAHM  
(worried)  
Maybe it's too soon.

CHA CHA  
I can't do intravenous forever.

DAVID  
I'll take your place.

CHA CHA  
Just shut up, OK?

Director's comment: at this point BRAHM looks sorry he can't offer CHA CHA something else. He likes her. Not the way you might be thinking, but more...well, for example, take the fact that SHAMANA VAVNU is teaching herself Udoric. CHA CHA, on the other hand, gets regular lessons with BRAHM as tutor. The others have seen parts of the ship, here and there. She has seen everything, even dull bits like the motive drives and storage bays and the laundry!

And CHA CHA is the only one who knows that BRAHM has a little sister. She's called Ahmatish. He worries about her; this whole accident with the launch could cause her problems. Udorans take genetics way too seriously. If one of their citizens steps out of line, they blame it on bad DNA. Then the whole family is forbidden to have children.

CHA CHA  
(to Brahm)  
We're going to do this. Show me what I have to do.

BRAHM  
These dispensers  
(points to the left)  
produce liquid food and water. These  
(points directly ahead)  
create soft solids and these  
(points right)  
make textures that will exercise the jaw muscles.

CHA CHA  
OK.

BRAHM  
I will teach you the Udoric words, but for now if you remember that sweeter variations appear lower on each list of selections.

CHA CHA  
Oh right.

BRAHM  
Each dispenser provides a cup and scoop, and these should be placed in the sterilizer  
(he points to the far right)  
when you finish.

CHA CHA  
Good...good...  
(Pause)  
Don't suppose David has a favorite...?

DAVID  
Second item from the middle machine. I can force myself to swallow that. Oh, and there's a thing you get from the 'texture' machine that breaks like a cracker, but nothing to go with it.

CHA CHA  
(bends over the middle dispenser)  
Second item...

(CHA CHA finds the selection on the menu screen, touches it, and watches the white ceramic cup and scraper appear on the shelf below. She picks them up. What's inside looks like wet newspaper turned back to pulp and tastes like slightly sweet mashed potato. CHA CHA smiles, not because it's good, but because she should be able to make herself eat it without gagging.)

CHA CHA  
(chews and swallows one mouthful)  
Not so bad.  
(eats more. Talks with mouth full, as if this will pass for enjoyment)  
Maybe,...like, if we got some, you know, Earth food, could you copy that?

BRAHM  
(walks over to the liquid food dispenser)  
It's possible.

DAVID  
We don't have any Earth food.

CHA CHA  
I have a cereal bar in my bag.

DAVID  
No you don't.

CHA CHA  
Then it must have fallen out when someone HIT ME WITH THEIR CAR. Some rat will have eaten it.

DAVID  
Lucky rat.

(BRAHM is still standing in front of the liquid food dispenser. His hand is poised over the screen, ready to make his choice, but that's where it has stopped. CHA CHA swallows all her food before she notices.)

CHA CHA  
Brahm?  
(He doesn't answer. She puts her cup and scraper on a table, and goes over to him.)  
Brahm?

(She touches his arm. He's stiff and a little hot. She looks into his face, and his eyes scare her.)

CHA CHA  
David?

DAVID  
What?

CHA CHA  
What's the matter with Brahm?

DAVID  
Where do you want me to start?

CHA CHA  
No, something's really wrong. He won't move and he looks...  
(You know the kind of silence that insists that something is bad, even if you can't say how? Insert one of those here.)  
Well? What is it?

DAVID  
(sighs)  
Ask Vavnu.

CHA CHA  
But what is it? Why are his eyes--

DAVID  
She's in the Control Room.

CHA CHA  
(panicking)  
I can't leave him like this!

DAVID  
(leaves his hiding place)  
All right, all right. I'll get her.

(CHA CHA wants to say 'don't strain yourself' but doesn't, in case it makes DAVID change his mind. He leaves the station. While she waits for him to bring the doctor, she squeezes BRAHM's hand and says soothing things...she can't remember what. Moments later, SHAMANA VAVNU enters the station at a run. She grabs CHA CHA's floating bed and drags it over to where BRAHM stands.)

VAVNU  
(lowering the bed so it's closer to the floor)  
He needs to lie down.

CHA CHA  
I'll get his feet.

VAVNU  
You aren't strong enough  
(she runs back to the entrance, opens the wall, calls out)  
David!  
(as DAVID enters)  
Get his feet.

(This time, there is no back chat. DAVID doesn't even smirk, just does what he's told. BRAHM is laid out on my bed, and no sooner is that done when we all hear a LONG, LOUD BEEP. We look up and around, confused.)

VAVNU  
What is that?

DAVID  
(to VAVNU)  
Last time I heard that sound, you came on board.

VAVNU  
It means someone has entered the ship?

CHA CHA  
But we're in space.

(There is ANOTHER BEEP.)

DAVID  
How long before he comes round?

VAVNU  
I don't know.

(A THIRD BEEP)

VAVNU (CONT.)  
What are we going to do?

DAVID  
Why ask me?

VAVNU  
I have a patient to look after.

DAVID  
Celine--,

VAVNU  
(To CHA CHA)  
Is this what your men are like whenever there's a crisis? Whine and shrug and hide in corners?

CHA CHA  
(giggles)

DAVID  
All right. We're going to the Control Room.

VAVNU  
All of us?

DAVID  
Do you want a decision or don't you? I can't read what's on the monitors.

(DAVID leaves the feeding station. CHA CHA and VAVNU follow, pushing BRAHM on his bed. On arriving in the Control Room, CHA CHA picks one of the screens and tries to translate.)

CHA CHA  
Connect...? Something connect.

VAVNU  
(points at another place on the same screen)  
That's the word for Commander. Is that a name?

CHA CHA  
Sesom.

VAVNU  
Or is it a form of 'ses' – so it means draw or draw out?

CHA CHA  
That is the word for planet. Have we landed on a planet?

VAVNU  
Maybe we are getting close.

DAVID  
Bloody hell...

(DAVID leans against a wall between the screens and the entrance to the elevator thing. Suddenly, over his head, a blue glow appears. VAVNU and CHA CHA see it and point. He turns to look.)

DAVID (CONT.)  
What the--

(The glow gets bigger and brighter. DAVID backs away. VAVNU pushes BRAHM's bed close to the monitors, and we huddle together watching the light. Pretty soon we can't see.)

BRAHM  
(weak)  
Cha Cha...

CHA CHA  
Brahm?  
(CHA CHA finds his face by touch)  
I'm here.

BRAHM  
You...haven't gone.

CHA CHA  
Gone? Where would I go?

VAVNU  
Don't tire him.

DAVID  
Tire him enough to find out what's going on.

BRAHM  
Doctor,...where are we?

VAVNU  
We're in the Control Room.

BRAHM  
The light...

VAVNU  
What is the light? Is there another entrance?

BRAHM  
No.

DAVID  
What do you mean, no? It's a wall opening – why didn't you tell us about this one?

BRAHM  
I don't understand.

DAVID  
You must do!

BRAHM  
I saw it. I saw...  
(groans)

VAVNU  
Tell us what you saw.

BRAHM  
This light. I came to the Control Room and saw this light.

VAVNU  
And?

BRAHM  
Cha Cha walked through.

CHA CHA  
I did?

VAVNU  
And then?

BRAHM  
(breathing hard)  
Then she was gone.

DAVID  
She left the ship?  
(Silence, except for BRAHM breathing)  
This is ridiculous.

VAVNU  
Brahm...,

BRAHM  
(weeping)  
Will this happen?

VAVNU  
We are nowhere near a planet. There is nowhere for her to go.

BRAHM  
The voice...

VAVNU  
What did it say?

BRAHM  
(sobs)  
That she must go.

VAVNU  
Did the voice give its name?

BRAHM  
Shen

VAVNU  
I told you. Shen is not a name.

DAVID  
What the hell difference does a name make?

VAVNU  
I'm trying to understand which god speaks to him.

DAVID  
Which god demands a human sacrifice, more like.

VAVNU  
It doesn't make sense.

DAVID  
It does. He's gone insane.

VAVNU  
Was it crazy the first time? When he knew you were coming back?

DAVID  
(angry)  
That...does not make it right to do something as stupid as this.

Director's note: When my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer in 2009, my dad flew me back to Hong Kong. I hadn't seen her for ages, so when I walked into her hospice room, I knew I had to brace myself. She was so different. She was grey, like the dust had already settled on her. Her face had caved in. Her stomach looked pregnant, as if the cancer had stolen all the fat and muscle in her body and hoarded it in one place.

Mostly I held her hand and listened to her breathe. She didn't smell nice, but I tried not to show that. We listened to the radio. Then, in the middle of a talk show, she asked me to switch off that stupid noise and I did. We sat there a while longer and then she said, "It's not so bad."

And I said, "It isn't?"

And she said, "No."

"Why not?" I wanted to know.

"Dying-- (She made me wait ages for the rest until I thought it would never arrive) --is simple. It is just the next thing you will do."

Then I asked, "But aren't you sad?"

And she said, "Unhappiness is strange. I can't remember what that feels like."

Right now, CHA CHA must be channeling her grandmother. BRAHM is crying—she can feel him shake. VAVNU and DAVID argue, because they want to know why this has to be me, why it has to be anybody.

But CHA CHA can't see what all the fuss is about. This is just the next thing she will do. It's true, that doesn't seem sensible. Why is she never sensible? Is that why she's there?

CHA CHA  
I'll go.

DAVID  
(still arguing with Vavnu)  
All of this can be explained by--

CHA CHA  
(louder)  
I said I'll go.

DAVID  
You will not.

CHA CHA  
I will.

DAVID  
Don't let Brahm talk you into--

CHA CHA  
Nobody has talked me into anything.

BRAHM  
(pleading)  
Cha Cha--,

CHA CHA  
(soothing)  
It's okay. It's going to be okay.

DAVID  
You don't know that!

CHA CHA  
And what do you know?

DAVID  
I know it's empty space out there, Celine. You'll explode.

CHA CHA  
Can't you just let this happen?

DAVID  
This? What the hell do you mean by this?

(CHA CHA slips out from behind BRAHM's bed and starts to move towards the light)

CHA CHA  
It'll feel like jelly, right?

DAVID  
Where are you!?

VAVNU  
Cha Cha? Are you sure?

CHA CHA  
Going through.

(Faintly CHA CHA hears SHAMANA VAVNU begin to CHANT. You know how we all understand each other, even though we speak different languages? Yet for some reason her prayers never translate.)

## CHAPTER TWELVE

Minus ninety-five degrees: I woke.

Minus ninety-six degrees: I left my bed and walked through my quarters to the monitors in my office. Memory was active. It displayed the last message we received from my brother: 'Sleep, and then we meet again.' I asked for the date, because the screens were only showing the time.

Minus ninety-seven through plus twenty-two degrees: The date appeared to be a malfunction. I returned to Memory and requested a report of all system activity since we lost consciousness. The volume of data was great--very great. The request had to be aborted.

Plus twenty-three through plus twenty-five degrees: Unstructured time. I sat down in my chair to examine my hands. Why didn't I have wrinkled skin? Why did I have skin at all? I couldn't think how to go on, because if Memory was correct, I was more than a thousand years old.

I went back over all my brother's messages, now artifacts from the distant past. We had ignored so many of them. But did he say...did Arnor ever say how long we would...? No.

This was a perfect example of how difficult it was to work with him. His trances and visions, I don't say they weren't real. If you saw him lying on the ground, possessed by Ahm-Lat, you'd never argue that the experience wasn't genuine. And some of the visions were helpful. But in the end they affected his mind, which had always been weak.

Nevertheless, I carefully reread everything he sent us.

Plus twenty-six degrees: The monitors pipped to get my attention. I read the text and learn that somehow, without anyone to program them, the ship's systems have developed an entirely new function. Revival. Every other Ilaon on board remains in this peculiar non-living, non-dying suspension. Only I am awake and our god, the great Ahm-Lat, seems to have put their fate back in the hands of their commander.

Plus twenty-seven through plus twenty-eight: Tried to decide who to revive.

Plus twenty-eight through plus thirty-three degrees: This was also unstructured. It had been awful, the days leading up to the end, when we could only guess why people fell asleep and didn't wake up. Was it an illness? Tarne called it 'a most convenient one'. We moved more and more people to Medical, but then we stopped, because there seemed no point. I thought it would set off another mutiny. But the rumors fed back to us by Tarne's nephews established a pattern, or a myth, that any person who complained about my leadership was found unconscious the next day. Then my brother sent a message with the real explanation. But we didn't communicate that.

And as Arnor predicted, the contagion got worse. Whole residential sections fell silent, the people shut up in their rooms. I could walk down the corridors thinking how I used to wish they would be quiet, stop resisting me and do what they were told.

In the end there was only Tarne and me. That was when he admitted the first group to fall asleep had plans to kill me.

Plus thirty-four through plus thirty-six: The monitors call to me again, to inform me that the rendezvous has been successful. Both ships are now connected, Control Room to Control Room. They asked if I would open a passage between them.

It was another event Arnor foretold, and yet I delayed. No system could tell me what he might be thinking now, sitting in front of his screens in his quarters. What had he done with all the time that had passed? Had he also been asleep?

Our Systems confirmed that an automatic hail had been sent to the other ship, but no reply received. So I started to compose a message, but I couldn't get past the greeting. I worried about the possessive pronoun. If I said 'my brother' in the intimate sense, I was a liar. If I was more formal, would he think I blamed him? Should I blame him?

Plus thirty-seven degrees through forty: I decided to try a different approach. Leaning back in my chair, so my head rested on the cushion, I closed my eyes and waited.

Plus forty through forty-two: Adjusted my position, and tried again.

Plus forty-five: Banged my fists on the armrests. I don't know which I hate more, when Ahm-Lat talks to me or when he's silent. Father never had this problem. The most devout person in the city, who went to the sanctuary every other day to hear prayers. He wore mountain clogs that never saw mountains, the way the old men did then. And every time he honored the god with a visit, Ahm-Lat honored him in return. He became a spirit in the smoke that rose from the altar or a voice that sang with the chimes at sunset. He'd tell anyone about these experiences. It was never a boast, only something so real he couldn't hold back. Even the priests rolled their eyes at him, but they listened.

That Ahm-Lat, I'm sure, was his invention. I say it with respect because I envied the power it gave him. During his trial, you never saw a stronger man. And he went to his death in peace. Perhaps, if I stumble on the same serenity, I'll be happy to die.

Plus forty-six: The monitors repeated their request to open a passage to Arnor's ship. I asked for images of the vessel and when those appeared, there was no denying. My ship was nose to nose with its identical twin. I approved the request.

Plus forty seven through plus fifty degrees: I did not hurry to leave my quarters. I went back to my bed, changed my clothes. My cloak felt old. It had been waiting for me one thousand and ninety seven years.

When I was a boy, history was the story of seven kings and two wars. Most of my teachers later became my enemies, and I suppose it made up my mind. I was determined to become one of those names school children had to recite--a name that would always get a reaction.

One thousand and ninety seven years. I could not shake off the irritation of being the owner of so much wasted time.

Plus fifty-one degrees: Confirmation came through that someone was using the connecting passage I'd created. I waited until the crossing was made, then a little longer. Whoever it was should come to me. They should find me in my chair, pretending to meditate. It would have to be pretending. But more time passed and nothing happened.

Minus fifty-two: I entered the Control Room to find a small, strange female. Her hair was like the Horbos, black but it looked blue under light. When I greeted her, she replied in Illyon but with an odd accent. I had to make her repeat some words before I understood that she wanted me to come with her, back to the other ship. She did not mention Arnor. When I asked about him, she only shrugged.

I asked again, showed some anger. She apologized but had nothing more to say. So I made it simple, as if speaking to a child. I told her I wanted to see the commander of her ship, and I wanted him to come to me. She began by saying, "There is no--," and stopped. Then she thought a moment, and asked me to wait.

Then she turned and touched the wall. My wall. And my ship obeyed her, opened the passage so she could go back the way she came.

Minus fifty-four to minus fifty eight degrees: She kept me waiting. Voraciously hungry, I left the Control Room briefly to visit the feeding station. The dispensers, in spite their age, worked perfectly. I ate in my quarters.

Minus fifty-nine: I was informed that the passage between our ships was active again. I returned to the Control Room to find the female had brought a medical pallet with her. On it lay my brother. He looked terrible. He was thinner, pale and all the hair had dropped out of his head. His bloodshot eyes stared at me and the fixtures in the room as though we shouldn't exist and when I said his name he didn't respond.

Well, I had feared it might end like this. I asked him if he'd also been asleep, but it was a waste of time. He was obviously insane.

Then the female told me his name was Brahm—The Eye. Not knowing what to think, I told her whoever this man was, he was no commander, no commander at all. She asked me then, as if I hadn't made it clear before, what I wanted. I said my brother, where have you taken him, my brother?

She shrugged again. I said my brother had said he would come to meet me. I told her she was travelling on his ship.

Then Brahm, that hideous cadaver, lifted himself up on his elbows. He started to speak, but the effort was too much. The female caught him so he wouldn't fall off the pallet.

Minus sixty-two degrees: The female seemed agitated and announced that she would leave. As she turned the pallet round, I wasn't sure whether the remark she added said she was sorry about Arnor or curious. She managed a smile before the glow from the wall obscured her.

Minus sixty-three: Unstructured. I returned to my quarters, slumped in my chair and wished for a moment that I could go back to sleep. 'Sleep, and then we meet again,' was all I kept hearing in my head. Said like a riddle, like teasing.

Then I snapped out of it, began to think sensibly. That was Arnor's ship. And whether Arnor was there or not, whether he was sane or not, I could still find data. In either case the ship was mine by right. Maybe I didn't need to sit with my eyes closed and wait for messages from Ahm-Lat. Maybe the god of the Illaons had given me what I needed – complete control over the occupants of my vessel. And why not the occupants of the other?

## CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Omri Date: 8342 (Launch plus 1097) Quarter El, Cycle 15

Minus eighty-eight degrees: After some thought, I decided to revive Tarne and Mab, the men I trusted most. I sent a message to their quarters asking them to come to my office as soon as they could. When they arrived I was composing another message, which I sent to the twin ship.

I was businesslike with them, and read them the relevant facts from a report I'd prepared. We went to the feeding station together, ate in silence. When we returned I checked the monitors, but the occupants of the other vessel had not replied.

Minus ninety-three degrees: I sent a second message from the Control Room, and a third. Mab and Tarne watched the screens with me, still without speaking, until minus ninety-six degrees.

"Are you sure about Arnor?" Tarne asked.

I sighed. "I have been over it, in my own mind, again and again. If that was my brother, who came across yesterday, he didn't recognize me. He didn't know himself."

"Perhaps he's bewitched."

I wouldn't answer him at first.

"You remember the last place he was. With the people who live along the Amosis ridge. All their women are witches."

I assured him that I hadn't forgotten. Whether I believed...the only time Tarne upset me was when he asked whether the nanny who raised my brother and I had put a spell on him. She was not from Amosis. But she was the only person who could calm him as a baby.

Then again, as Arnor got older, I used to wish I could find a witch and pay her to cure him.

"You said the female came alone at first," Tarne said, "and that she could command the systems on our ship."

"She reopened the passage."

"Then she must be in command of the other vessel," Mab said.

"Of course," Tarne went on, "when you asked for Arnor, she had to bring him."

"But she didn't seem to know his name."

Tarne considered this, and could only shrug. "It must be your brother. The ship is identical."

"But how could he survive a thousand years? He must have slept, just like us. How did a witch find him, and how did she stay alive?"

Mab said, "Maybe this is why Ahm-Lat put us to sleep. Maybe the witch is old and weak now, and your brother can be saved."

Minus ninety-nine degrees: Still no reply to my message.

"Let me cross over to the other ship," Tarne suggested. "If I don't return, you'll know it's dangerous. If she bewitches me and I come back looking as bad as Arnor, you can kill me."

We didn't protest because we knew he'd never listen. Tarne always stepped out first. He should have died so many times. "It makes sense," I agreed. "And after all, if Arnor can send someone else to speak for him, so can I. Talk to him about the past, the good things. See what he remembers."

Minus ninety-nine through plus seven degrees: Tarne left. Mab and I went to the Observation room to gaze at the other ship and go over events that were fresh in our minds but we knew, in reality, were ancient history. He asked me if I would be reviving any others. He didn't suggest names, because that would not be Mab. But I knew he was thinking of his family. I stressed the danger we might be in, and that was enough to make him abandon the subject.

I went on talking about my brother. I said the problem with Arnor was that he had always been too open, too trusting. "Remember," I said, "all the non-Ilaons who worked in the factory, and how many he wanted to bring on board? What if, after we left, he was tricked by a witch?"

"But where would he find a female like you described?" asked Mab. "Unless he took the ship to another planet."

"No," I said.

"He might have. He might have settled his evacuees on another world. And then maybe Arnor made an alliance with the people in that place, people like the female. Maybe she and he--,"

Mab stopped when I put up my hand. He apologized, but it was too late. I was left to decide which was more hurtful – the suggestion that my brother had managed to find a new home when we had not, or that he had ever been close to a woman.

Plus eight degrees to plus nine: From the Observation room we saw the passage light up where the two Control Rooms joined. We went back there and found Tarne.

"Commander," he said, "you may come back with me, if you can promise to conceal your real feelings."

Plus nine through plus twenty: It was good advice. Once I'd passed through the connecting wall and saw their identical rooms in identical arrangement with identical equipment, it convinced me. I had to work hard to keep a bored expression on my face. When the female came to greet us, I made my tone of voice convincingly cold, as if I didn't like to be kept waiting. It made her hesitate. She told us Brahm was in Medical, and that he felt better. We let her lead us as if we couldn't find the way ourselves. I watched her back. I tried to decide from her black hair and slender shoulders and tiny feet whether she could be a witch.

All the parts of the ship we saw seemed empty and quiet. Medical also, except for a single room in one ward. When we entered Brahm was sitting up on his pallet. He tried to stand, but a hand caught his arm, a long-fingered, golden hand that came with an owner who looked like she might eat him or us. Tarne nudged me as a reminder – no feelings.

"She is his doctor," he said. But he moved carefully, I thought, as we approached.

I gave Brahm a gift, a stone discus. It was one of a pair that Arnor made to commemorate the building of our two ships. Brahm took it with both hands, turned it over once and then again. I studied him. And I had serious doubts then, whether he could be my brother. There was something Ilaon about him, but not enough. He ran his fingers over the engraving on the stone.

"Do you recognize it?" I tested him.

He looked at me, wide eyed. "This," he pointed at the symbol in the center of the discus. "This is Udoran."

"Udoran?"

He explained the history of his people. He started from the beginning, as he knew it, but it was so obviously not a beginning. I couldn't help myself; I interrupted. What was the name of the ship that carried his ancestors, I asked, and who commanded it? Why did it crash? Where did it come from? Did no one, before now, make any attempt to build another craft so that they could return? I said the name of our home planet Omri, and the city of Usalm. Did these names mean anything to him.

He could repeat them back to me but that was all. When I'd finished I stood back, and I was looking at him exactly the way his doctor was looking at me. I guessed that both of us wanted to impose our will on a situation we didn't expect and didn't like.

Tarne nudged me again. I apologized and let him speak instead. He took the conversation to other subjects, reminding the doctor and the black haired female of things they must have discussed during his first visit. And so our stay ended better than it might have. Brahm thanked us for the gift.

The female smiled as she took us back to the Control Room. Then, as we passed by the commander's quarters, the entrance opened and someone stepped out. When he saw us he fled back inside, but I'd seen enough. He looked my age but wearier, as though he'd slept as long as I had but the rest had done him no good. The female ignored him, and maybe he was nothing more than a servant. But I felt a slight pain, low in my body near the spine. When you've been a soldier you pay attention to those feelings.

Plus twenty-one through twenty-five degrees: As soon as we returned to our ship, we held a meeting in my quarters.

"If this is bewitching," I said, "it's a kind more powerful than we know."

"They must be hiding something," Tarne added, "they say all the residences are empty."

"And Brahm cannot control the ship."

"Not control it?" Mab was amazed.

"He says he did not launch it," Tarne replied, "and can't decide where it goes. He knew nothing about us."

"So whatever happened," I concluded, "Ahm-Lat only knows. Nevertheless, his divine power has brought the ship to meet ours, just as Arnor predicted."

"If bewitching is involved," Tarne said, "you must be careful. It won't simply be a matter of declaring yourself commander."

I agreed. "We must learn more about Brahm and the others. Next time, we all go across."

Tarne suggested we revive more men, to give us the advantage of numbers. Mab said nothing. I went along with this, but added a warning. "We have not told Brahm how many people we have, and we won't change that...yet."

## CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Whenever he woke, for the first few minutes it felt like his eyes had opened under water. The edges of his bed rippled. The counter where Shamana Vavnu prepared his treatment rituals was misty. This time he thought there was there also something else, moving in the space between the furniture, and he couldn't recognize it, though it was true he couldn't think clearly, not since the visions. He'd feel himself come to a conclusion about something and then the idea would go missing, along with everything he'd done to get there. It would take him ages to repeat the process.

As soon as he could be sure of what he saw, he spoke. "David."

The blurry presence near his bed replied. "Brahm."

Then came the effort of being the next person to speak. Brahm had to wait, because words were also tricky. He could hear David breathe. Air going out sounded the same, air going in had a slight wheeze.

"Why are you here?"

"Vavnu needed sleep," David said. "You know she hasn't had any since you...in the Feeding Station."

Brahm tried to work out exactly how long ago that was. Events he could remember, but he was never sure of the order or how long they had taken. And then his head went blank, and maybe he dozed, because suddenly his eyes opened again and his sight was much better.

"I didn't volunteer," David told him, "she caught me wandering around and told me if I was going to be wide awake when I was supposed to be asleep I could do something useful."

"You couldn't sleep?" Brahm asked.

"I am never going to be able to sleep in this place."

Brahm blinked, just to see what that would do. It brought David's hair, the newer hair that grew off his cheeks and chin, into sharp focus. "I used to have trouble sleeping," he admitted.

"Umm...you told me."

"As far back as I can remember," Brahm said. He recalled the earlier version of himself, sneaking around the underground passages of Udor. He knew everything then, everything he thought there was to know. "I felt...confined," he admitted

"Exactly," said David.

"Your world was..." Brahm remembered the colors and light, "so interesting."

"Thank you."

"So large."

"Huge."

Since he couldn't think of more to say, Brahm asked for a drink of water. While David went to get it, he tried to roll onto one elbow and lift his body a little higher. He did it without swaying or feeling dizzy. Even so, when he sat up and got his back against the wall behind him, he felt drained. He concentrated on breathing.

"I'm not saying a prayer over this cup," David warned when he returned. But Brahm took the water and drank. The cold liquid shocked the roof of his mouth, revived him. David's wheezing sounded louder.

"If I could, I would take you back."

David didn't respond. He had a second cup of water for himself and a third filled with food that he ate with his fingers.

"If I could control the ship," Brahm went on. "I would never have taken you away."

"You don't have to keep saying it."

Brahm watched him make faces each time he swallowed. "I thought if you...believed," he hoped he had used the word correctly. "If you believed I did not take you away from home, then you wouldn't be angry. All the time I've known you, you've only been angry."

Yeah well," David put down his food and wiped his hand on his clothes, "that's not really aimed at you. I mean, it probably sounds like it is."

"It does."

"But it's not. I need to be angry at someone. I just haven't figured out who."

"Then why--,"

"I don't know," David growled. "I suppose you seemed like a good person. It's safe to get angry with a good person."

Brahm took three slow sips to finish his water. "Thank you," he said, and held out his cup. David took it, and they remained together while the light came up in the room to indicate that the rest session was over. David had to clear his throat twice. It was a wet, champing sound.

"So," he said in a thin, rough voice. He coughed again, and it went back to normal. "What about your visions. Don't they tell you anything about the ship?"

"No," Brahm confessed.

"But they show you things that happen in the future."

"Yes."

"Ever wonder if there's a connection?"

"Connection?" Brahm asked. "That gods give me visions and---,"

"I never said gods," David interrupted. "Don't mix me up with the doctor."

"But if I hadn't met Shamana Vavnu, I wouldn't have visions."

"Okay...maybe."

"Sesom also has visions from gods."

"Yeah Sesom," David got up suddenly and walked round the room with his eyes on the floor, like he was searching for some small object he dropped. Eventually he came back. "Never mind. You've changed the subject," he complained.

Brahm frowned. "Have I?"

David swung a leg onto the bed and sat beside him. "What I'm wondering is this: if you can know the future, maybe you can change it." Brahm sat in that silence he always left in place of words when he didn't understand.

"It's a theory," David said, "only a theory. But worth a try."

"Try?"

"Instead of waiting for a vision to drop from nowhere and knock you over the head, what if you tried asking for something to happen?"

"Who do I ask?"

"Who--whatever causes the visions."

"But I don't know--,"

"It doesn't matter," David assured him. "Like I said, it's a theory. You try it, and if it doesn't work we come up with a new one."

Brahm stared at his hands in his lap. He felt he should be more afraid. There was fear, but only what had been constantly running inside him since the launch from Udor. If he added all the frightening experiences on top of that, fear became so ordinary.

"What should I ask?"

David went over to the table to put down the cups and came back with a small, black packet. He unfolded it and showed Brahm all the slots and openings concealed inside. Then he pulled out a tiny, oblong panel and held it up so the Udoran could see it was like a screen with an image.

"That one is Sophie," David pointed, "the eldest. And that's Elspeth."

"Children?" Brahm guessed.

"Mine."

"You've never mentioned them."

"This place doesn't make me feel like small talk," David replied. "And what's the point if I never see them again?"

Brahm nodded, then he asked for more water. He could feel himself running out of energy, and wanted what was left thinking, if he could think. When his second cup came he drank it dry before he said, "Shamana Vavnu won't--,"

"You don't tell Vavnu," David said.

Brahm yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Or Sesom?"

David sighed. He took away the cup and gestured for Brahm to lie down. He collected the bed cover that had been pushed away and brought it back over, tucking it in around the Udoran's shoulders. And then he left his hands where they'd finished, on either side of Brahm's neck. They felt cold.

"Sesom," he heard David say. But already objects were blurring, and Brahm's thoughts seemed to sink to the back of his head and leak out. He tried to remember what they'd just been discussing, but couldn't. Then the room grew dark.

"I may not know anything about Sesom, but..." And David went on, but Brahm stopped hearing what he said as words. It was just sound, and then it was fading, and then it was gone.

## CHAPTER FIFTEEN

" **Dear Mnemosyne"**

A Film of Unknown Length

Act 16, Scene 49

INT. Observation Room

CHA CHA enters from the elevator thing—I mean mehltrom (must use the correct Udoran word). BRAHM is already there. He sits on the floor with his back resting against the transparent walls, his head turned away from her, his eyes on the stars. The stone disc Sesom gave him is in his hands; he doesn't go anywhere without it. He still looks tired. But he comes out of his own little world and sees her and smiles. When was the last time he did that?

CHA CHA  
Hi.  
(Because the edges of the room make her nervous, CHA CHA sits in the middle of the floor, facing BRAHM)  
How are you?

BRAHM  
Better.

CHA CHA  
Good. Good.

BRAHM  
Thank you for keeping this secret.

CHA CHA  
I didn't think Udorans would do secrets.

BRAHM  
(looks...yes, I think the word is sheepish)  
Not...as a habit.

CHA CHA  
Humans do it all the time. Well, I do.

BRAHM  
I need your advice.

CHA CHA  
Okay.

BRAHM  
Do you think everyone on the ship is happy?

CHA CHA  
Uh...with one exception.

BRAHM  
David.

CHA CHA  
I mean personally, I think everyone is meant to be here.

BRAHM  
Meant...?

CHA CHA  
Well yeah. See, if your ship hadn't been around when Vavnu was thrown in the river, she would be dead, right?

BRAHM  
She does say that.

CHA CHA  
And I would be dead.

BRAHM  
But if the ship had never come to your planet...

CHA CHA  
There's no point talking about that, is there? Because it did.

BRAHM  
(doesn't look as though he understands)  
I see.

CHA CHA  
And you...you would have been all insomniac and bored. Sesom and his friends might have stayed asleep on board their ship, just floating in space.

BRAHM  
Is David unhappy because Sesom moved him out of the commander's quarters?

CHA CHA  
You know...we don't really talk. But I doubt it. It doesn't matter where you put him because he hates it here. And you can understand, I mean, he's married and has little girls and a business and I guess that's what he wants.

BRAHM  
(nods)  
That is what I thought. And so...  
(he turns his head away, like he's embarrassed? Ashamed? Afraid to disappoint me?)  
I tried to do something.

CHA CHA  
Like what?

BRAHM  
I don't know if it will work.

CHA CHA  
(leans forward with interest)  
What?

BRAHM  
And please don't tell Shamana Vavnu, not yet.

CHA CHA  
Fine, okay. But tell me.

BRAHM  
I have asked gods to keep both ships connected. And I have asked if we may return to Earth, and let David leave.

CHA CHA  
How?

BRAHM  
I believe the doctor knows how this is done, but I couldn't ask her. She would try to stop me. But Sesom also knows about gods. He had experiences like mine. And so he told me what to say and I was able to do it lying down, so I would be safe.

CHA CHA  
And what happened?

BRAHM  
(sounding relieved)  
Nothing. Nothing happened to me. I was safe.

CHA CHA  
But anything else?

BRAHM  
It may be...so far our navigation records show that we are retracing the course we took when we left Earth.

CHA CHA  
Exactly?

BRAHM  
So far...exactly.

(There's something odd about the way BRAHM gazes off into space. CHA CHA looks in the same direction. BRAHM points)

BRAHM (CONT.)  
Can you see?

CHA CHA  
(she really tries, wrinkled face and all)  
No.

BRAHM  
If we are returning the way we came, then the ship will reach Earth at the end of the next rest session. It allows some time...for preparation.

CHA CHA  
Have you told David?

BRAHM  
(a very long pause)  
Not yet. David said...well, this was some time ago, but when I listen to him talk I still wonder...

CHA CHA  
You're not making any sense.

BRAHM  
He thought I knew about believing.

CHA CHA  
And you don't?

BRAHM  
I may have a better idea. But not enough to know when David believes, or when he doesn't.

CHA CHA  
So you would tell David, but you think he won't believe you.

BRAHM  
And then he might not leave. But if you told him--

CHA CHA  
Whoa, whoa -- no. You still need to learn something about believing. If I tell David, he'll guess that you told me. He knows I haven't learned enough Udoran to read navigation records. You need to tell him.

BRAHM  
(Tries to gets up. He's slower that he should be.)  
There is another reason.

CHA CHA  
More secrets?

BRAHM  
(as he walks to the centre of the room)  
I'm going to refocus the lens.

(It's very kind of him to say, because last time CHA CHA witnessed a refocus she gagged and brought up some spew on her floating bed. Seriously embarrassing. This warning means she can shut her eyes.)

BRAHM (CONT.)  
You can look now.

(Director's Note: It's Earth. Somehow he's zoomed in and the planet is the size of the dome. And I have a bone to pick with the Apollo astronauts. Those guys should never have been allowed to take pictures. Not because they got accused of faking the shots of Earth, but because they became so available. We all get to look at our planet as if we're astronauts, when really we're perfectly safe on the ground, probably surfing the internet or flipping through a magazine or watching TV. The thing is, when you actually ARE far away--when you've been in space for days and days where nothing is the way you're used to and the food is weird and the new arrivals keep giving you the evil eye—

And then you see Earth. And it hurts. It hurts like I can't tell you. CHA CHA doesn't know how it happens, but after a minute she is laid out on the floor, shaking and worried that she might be sick again.

BRAHM doesn't say anything. CHA CHA hears him come close. And then he lifts her up. He carries her into the elevator--mehltrom. She's breathing like an asthmatic, and sucking in the sleeve of his clothes with each wheeze like an idiot. His breathing doesn't sound so good either. The mehltrom goes to Medical. He helps her into an empty room, sits her on a floating bed and holds her by the shoulders so she stays sitting. And then he just waits until her breathing finds its way back to normal...almost normal. )

CHA CHA  
What am I--  
(it's too soon. More breathing required.)

BRAHM  
Are you sure you're happy here?

CHA CHA  
I can't leave.  
(more breathing)  
I can't leave you.

BRAHM  
You would stay with me, but be unhappy?

CHA CHA  
I don't know.

BRAHM  
You don't know?

CHA CHA  
I didn't think about it.  
(Breathes)  
Or I thought...I thought...,  
(looks at Brahm and sees how patiently he waits for the answer, not knowing how ridiculous it's going to sound.)  
I thought it was different.

BRAHM  
How?

CHA CHA  
I don't know!  
(CHA CHA starts crying again. Crying! Like a stupid baby.)

BRAHM  
May I tell you the other reason now? The other secret?

(Cha Cha can only nod her silly, wet face)

BRAHM (CONT.)  
David already knows the ship is returning to Earth. I told him.

CHA CHA  
But then you lied to me. Why?

BRAHM  
Because David told me he couldn't leave the ship alone. Because you are here, he has broken rules that apply in his area. He says there are authorities who can force him to live away from his mate and his children. He wouldn't have the same life.

CHA CHA  
(considering, reluctantly)  
Yeah...okay. Probably.

BRAHM  
But if you went with him, it might be different.

CHA CHA  
How?

BRAHM  
He says I wouldn't understand the details. But he has been...planning.

(BRAHM fetches a cloth so CHA CHA can dry her face)

BRAHM (CONT.)

And you have family too. You've told me--,

CHA CHA  
(throws the cloth away in frustration.)  
I know!

BRAHM  
And I never understood why it didn't make you sad to talk about them.

CHA CHA  
Well, it...it just didn't. It was different.

BRAHM  
How?

CHA CHA  
Like I said in the Observation Room—it was meant to be.

BRAHM  
(apologetic)  
I tried to understand...

CHA CHA  
It's all been so magic.

BRAHM  
Magic?

CHA CHA  
Oh! You know, you just haven't got a word for it, probably. All this stuff you don't understand that just happens—it's so brilliant.

BRAHM  
Maybe.

CHA CHA  
(gets off the bed)  
Look, maybe I can't explain it.

BRAHM  
If I felt sure you were happy here, I would tell David.

CHA CHA  
Why didn't David tell me?

BRAHM  
He said you wouldn't believe him.

(CHA CHA walks aimlessly round the room. She finds herself wishing she had a window so she could stand and stare out forever.)

BRAHM (CONT.)  
I've told you everything now. No more secrets.

Director's Note: CHA CHA blanks him: no response, no eye contact. How could he? She thought he was a friend. Turns out he's just another adult with an agenda. Well, surprise, surprise.

Camera switch to time lapse filming, to show her occasional movements—crossing and uncrossing her arms, changing her weight from one foot to the other, twisting a strand of hair, as ages go by. BRAHM gives up waiting for her to talk and leaves. More time lapse. The lights dim -- the signal that it's time to sleep..

My Media Studies teacher would be so proud to know that I've remembered this. Changes of heart are tricky to show on film. You can't have a narrator – that's so nineteen forties. You can't have the actor give a long, heart searching speech—that's so Shakespeare. The only option left is to follow the character as they go and DO something which proves they have made a new decision. And so this scene ends with CHA CHA leaving Medical, taking the elevator (mehltrom!) to the residences and visiting David's new quarters.

But do you see the problem with this? With film, the viewer doesn't know how the decision was made. They can guess. Some movies drop hints but come on, people don't think in hints. They think in haystacks, millions of ideas and feelings and things your mother taught you all tangled together. Too boring for a movie, but still important. Good decisions can be made with bad thinking. Bad decisions can be made with good reasons. Remember that.

## CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Brahm was on his feet, though they were behaving as if they didn't know him. His toes tingled, like they were being pricked, and it hurt to stand. Maybe they would decide they belonged to another body and leave him. He couldn't understand why it was happening. Day by day, he had been getting stronger.

Everyone was gathered in the Control Room, so he didn't need to do any work. He could leave Sesom and Tarne to watch the screens, make sure the ship was prepared for landing and camouflage activated. Mab was on board the other ship, doing the same. Brahm could try and distract himself with the enjoyable images of Earth: the vapors that swirled and swept across the sky, the never ending jagged artwork of blues and greens and browns.

Shamana Vavnu stood beside him. They had argued all the way from Medical, and maybe this was the reason he felt tired. As the ship descended through the lowest layer of cloud and it was possible to see trees and structures and projectiles again, Brahm wiped sweat off his forehead.

David and Cha Cha stood at the wall which had become the connecting passage between their two craft. He heard David say, "Recite it again."

"When I'm in the hold," she replied.

They were very close to the surface now; the screens showed them passing over a gentle, white elevation with a ring of stones at the highest point.

"Look up the news as soon as you can," David continued. "See how bad this snow has been. You need to talk like you've been here all along."

She didn't have time to answer. Sesom announced that the connecting passage was about to open. Brahm watched the light build. It spread over the wall and turned Cha Cha's face blue. Soon he couldn't see her dark eyes, couldn't argue with himself as he argued with the doctor, that she would be happy again once she was back in familiar surroundings. And the reason she hadn't spoken to him since he gave up all his secrets was because she had so many plans to remember.

***

" **Dear Mnemosyne"**

A Film of Unknown Length

ct 16, Scene 50

(INT. the passage between Sesom and Brahm's craft)

CHA CHA swims through blue goo until she breaks the surface and steps into the other Control Room. MAB is there. He throws her a glance, nothing more. She goes directly into the open mehltrom. (Now how's that for pathetic? She remembers to use the Udoran word just when she's no longer going to need it) The mehltrom seals her inside.)

CHA CHA  
(internal monologue played over the action)  
Okay, forget what I said about Shakespeare. This is a soliloquy. I've repeated everything to myself until my brains fall out. I won't forget. This is how it's going to work. Shamana Vavnu used her claws to cut my arm. It's not deep, but I won't have to pretend it hurts! We bandaged it with a sleeve torn off my denim jacket. We are hoping to land in a field again, a very particular field.

(The mehltrom opens. CHA CHA steps out into the hold. She turns in a slow circle, checking all the walls, wondering which one let her out.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
We should be just outside the village where Noah's parents live.

(Finally one of the walls starts to glow. CHA CHA steps closer.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
So the plan is I walk to their house, ring the bell, show them the cut and cry a lot. I beg them to call the police, even before they call Auntie Mai. I need to try and speak with the police at Noah's house, because his dad's a barrister. He'll know how to fend them off if the questions get awkward.

(She puts her hand into the blue light and pokes the exit wall.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
Soon as I can charge my phone I get to work on my alibi -- Our alibi. Tell you what, David should have been a spy. Master of covert operations.  
(sighs)  
God. I wish I could know whether this will be my turning point.  
(pause)  
Is this going to be the experience that pushes me out of adolescence, that makes me grow up? See, if it is, that would be meaningful, and I have to know how all this is meaningful. My sister snapped out of it when she turned eighteen. Her grades got better; she went to university. I got to be her maid of honor, and I'd definitely ask her to be mine. Then our mother could buy another hat and cry and tell everyone she has two good daughters.

(The wall is ready. CHA CHA squints. We see her take a big breath, which she suddenly exhales, and for a moment it looks like she's lost her nerve. Then she inhales again, and it lifts her shoulders, straightens her back.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
Would it help if I got more religious?

***

Brahm watched her on the monitor. She walked down a slight slope, on a surface that gave way under her dainty feet so that she sank with each step. And after every third or fourth stride, she would try to shake off the whiteness that accumulated on her shoes. Her head was crouched low between her shoulders, as if she wanted to appear smaller.

But she was getting smaller anyway. Brahm asked Sesom if he would enlarge the image, but by then she had reached the bottom of the slope where there were squat compartments clustered on either side of a smooth channel. And when that channel curved, she turned with it and disappeared.

"Right," said David, "that's that."

Sesom stepped through the connecting passage to give final instructions. Mab would keep their ship on this spot temporarily, in case there was an emergency and Cha Cha needed to return. Brahm's ship would detach and take David to another location.

There were vibrations as the motive drives started again, or that was what Brahm assumed. Sesom returned. The connecting passage closed. The vibrations became stronger, stronger than usual, but by the time the Udoran realized that the shaking might have nothing to do with the launch, his knees buckled and his hand groped for something to stop him falling. He tried, and failed, to catch the doctor's arm.

She had to treat him where he lay. He heard her ask if someone would please go to Medical and bring back a pallet. But Brahm could also see, through a watery haze, that both Sesom and Tarne were absorbed with the launch and didn't seem to hear.

"The two craft have separated," Sesom announced.

***

Five days after the Chinese girl was found, Alyson's mobile rang around one in the morning. It shocked her out of sleep. She tried to feel for it in the dark, knocked it on the floor, and found it again before her ringtone had finished.

"Can you talk?" was all he wanted to know.

"Oh god, David, where are you?" She stood up.

"Please," he said.

She accidentally pushed one of her slippers under the bed. She left it there, and pulled the duvet off the bed. "Of course I can."

"I'm scared. I've been listening to the news."

"David, what happened to you?" Then it sounded like he hung up. "David...? David!"

No, it was fine. He was still there. "What am I going to tell the police?" he begged.

"What do you mean? You tell them the truth."

"How? Can't you see? That's just going to make everything worse than it already is."

"What's wrong?" she pressed him. "What's bothering you?" She got up, dragged the duvet down the hall into her lounge, switched on a light, sat on the sofa. She listened to him breathe.

"I could leave her for you," he said.

She stopped in the middle of tugging the duvet over her knees. "Leave...Lucy?"

"Maybe I should have...back when we first talked about it."

"Is that what this is all about?"

"She said she'd turn Sophie and Elly against me."

"She knows?" Alyson tried to recall her visit to the house. "You said she didn't."

"She doesn't—I mean—I don't think she's knows it's you. But she is trying to find out. That's why I had to start all that business of going home on time. That's why I haven't been, you know..."

"Right." She found she was kneading the arm of the sofa very hard with the thumb of her right hand. Her attention had been focused on the middle of her back, where there had been a tight, hot pain since she took tea with Simon. It was easing, finally, and her eyes were wet with relief. "Right," she whispered again.

"It made me so angry. That was why I went away the first time. Thought a little cooling off...you know..."

Alyson leaned forward, so she was staring at the rug between her feet.

"Then I get back, and she's straight into me, interrogating. Thought I would go nuts. I came to the office just to get away, but you can't get that kind of thing out of your head. And then when I was on my way back...I don't know...,"

"It's okay," she said.

"I just drove around. Right? I just wanted to get it out of my system. It was so bloody late, I didn't think anybody would be...and then there she was, this girl, out of nowhere."

"It's okay."

His voice was shaking. "I tried to help her. I swear to God, I got her in the car and we were going to hospital. But she tells me to pull over for a second, and before I know it she's out the door and running! And then what? I couldn't go home. How could I go home if I didn't know where she was? She could have been dead, and then what would--"

"It's okay, David," she talked over him. "You know the family isn't going to press charges."

"What?"

"The police told us. Apparently the girl has a cousin in London. She rang him, he drove up and got her, let her hide out in his...workshop, or something. She sounds like a handful. But nobody thinks you did anything wrong."

"It still looks bad."

"It looks bad that she stole your credit card, the little thief."

"She can have it."

"Of course she can't have it. David, you know you're not talking sense now."

"Yeah, okay...all right. Sorry."

She let him, and herself, have a moment.

"So," she began carefully, "where are you?"

"At the cottage."

"Cornwall? How did you get there?"

"Train."

"You can't get there by train."

"Hitched a ride, walked."

"And then?"

"That's it."

"You've been there all this time?"

A long pause, and his voice was a whisper. "Yeah."

She was still bent over her feet. Now she sat up, sank back, and let her head rest on the cushion. "Well, thank god you're all right." And then she thought about it. "So now what?"

## CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Omri Date: 8342 (Launch plus 1097) Quarter El, Cycle 23

Minus ninety-eight to plus one degree (slightly later on Brahm's ship, because his rest sessions are closer to one hundred twenty degrees): I woke. I washed in the nearest hygiene station and dressed. I ate in the feeding station before returning to my quarters. I placed laundry in my private truck and sent that down the chute.

Plus two to plus four degrees: Preparation. I sat in the high backed chair and concentrated on my breathing: four counts to inhale and four counts to exhale. Gradual increase to five counts each, then six.

My brother never needed to do this. He was like Brahm; the visions came to him. But however devoted I might be to our god, I never envied Arnor when Ahm-Lat struck him down. Sometimes, his body was so rigid we couldn't bend his knees. Some might say his way was more genuine, because Ahm-Lat sought him and not the other way round. Yet perversely, the more disabled he was by his trances, the more confusing his pronouncements became.

Plus four to unknown time: I heard Tarne enter my quarters, and take up his position beside me. Shortly after that I descended into full trance.

Unknown time to plus seven degrees: The first image of Arnor that appeared to me did not speak. He was semi-transparent, like something stepping through in fog, yet dressed in his factory-issued work clothes.

This was Arnor barely a man. He could not bear the bright colors at a wedding yet loved the sound of thunder. His eyes always had a look--Tarne and I are agreed he probably received visions when he was a child, but kept it secret. He knew no one would believe him. Why should they when things were good, when Ilaons were full citizens? His father led the government; his older brother was an army officer. He was the only difficulty – the child sent away because he couldn't behave. How else would he expect us to react?

This image faded quickly, and was replaced by an older version of the same face. Still it was silent. Why did he keep coming? His apparition would not look me in the eye.

Plus eight degrees: I shivered and opened my eyes involuntarily. Tarne urged me to settle back down, try once more. I had to resume the breathing exercises.

Unknown time to plus eleven degrees: For a long while my mind remained blank, only littered with phantom residue from my last dream. But the blankness felt full of potential, so I hoped there might be improvement. By willpower I could stir this void like soup, and so I churned from the depths to see what I could bring to the surface. I counted the movements to make it consistent, just like my breathing.

At some point that seemed right, I stopped and let it settle. I heard a tone from one of my screens, and the touch of Tarne's hand on my shoulder became lighter. He was leaning over to read. But it did not disturb my state of mind. The pool of blankness remained still. Eventually I could see a new image, forming as pinpoint dots of color.

Plus eleven degrees to plus thirty one: I sat up, needing to open my eyes but still unable. When Tarne tried to calm me I pushed him away. I stood, still vague with trance and blind. Yet I knew where I needed to go. I had seen a face. I was sick of seeing it. I was going to make it stop.Rage drove me out into the corridor and down to the mehltrom. I slammed the floor plan with a fist because the wall would not close fast enough. As soon as I reached Medical, I started to call out his name. I ran to the ward with my hand on the wall, feeling for the place where the entrance to his room had been fixed open.

As I stumbled inside my eyes opened. I saw him lying still, as though that would fool me. And the doctor was there. She had climbed onto his bed and arched her back to make her whole body a protecting cover. Her lips pulled back to show me how effective her teeth might be. She was shaking. I was shaking.

"Make him talk," I ordered her.

"Make him?!" she hissed. "Can't you see? I can't make him."

"We won't play your game anymore. We won't have more interference. Make him talk."

"Make him yourself," she snapped, "Since you've obviously decided what he will say."

I risked moving closer to the bed.

"My brother--,"

"This is not your brother," the doctor said.

"This is not my brother?" I challenge her. "He has a ship identical to mine. He recognizes the disk I gave him."

"He doesn't recognize you."

"That's because you have emptied him."

"Emptied him?!"

"He is nothing without you. We thought it was the other female, but she's a child. Why did you capture her, or David? Was it just to confuse us?"

"I have not captured--,"

"This is horrific," I pointed to Brahm, "but it's the smallest of your crimes. What have you done with the others?"

"What others?"

"The other occupants of this ship. Where did you take them?"

"Are you mad?"

"Is that what you'd like?" I glanced at the table beside the bed, where all the surgical instruments lay. There was a knife. "You're like all our enemies. People just disappear, accidents just happen,--"

She crouched lower. "You are mad," she snarled. Her tail became a whip, flailing back and forth. She moved her body so precisely; I realized that her weight shifted from hip to hip, as if she were testing the spring. But she never got to attack, because at that point Tarne rushed in and grabbed me, pulled me out of pouncing distance.

"Deal with your commander," Vavnu said. "I won't take orders from a lunatic."

"What happened?" Tarne whispered in my ear. "What did Ahm-Lat show you?"

"His face. Brahm's. The same as before."

"All right," he said, "all right." He patted my arm as he spoke. "Let me talk."

"Why?" I cried out. "What difference will it make?"

But he continued to stroke me like I was nothing more than his little son after a nightmare. He pulled me completely out of the room, to a bench in the corridor. He made me sit down, and spoke to me with more of that sickening, soothing voice.

"All right...all right." I glared at him, but he did not seem to notice. "Commander," he suggested, "you should put your head back against the wall, and rest." And he took my face in his hands, and turned it.

I had every intention of grabbing those wrists and breaking them. I wanted to shout, "We know what's going on here now. We've talked. There is no more talking to be done!!"

But then I noticed, further along the corridor, that Tarne's nephews had come with him. We revived Demos and Lor-Soven because they were strong young men. Tarne said, "Now you see." They were pulling covers out from a bedding closet, and knotting them together at the corners to make a cord. They held up what they had made, and Lor-Soven wound part of it round his neck and tied a knot to demonstrate how it might be used.

"Do you feel a little better?" Tarne asked.

"Yes," I replied. Then Tarne let go of my face, straightened himself carefully, and returned to Shamana Vavnu.

"Doctor," he said, "maybe we both have patients who need rest."

"Maybe," she replied. Even without looking, I was sure she hadn't changed her defensive stance on the bed. "I don't see why either of us should tolerate a temper like his," she added.

"It's...difficult," Tarne agreed. "But you must be able to understand the frustration. Brahm told us he had spoken with--,"

"Brahm does not know what he is doing. I've tried to tell him."

"And yet he got everything he requested. Both our ships returned to Earth. And they detached, so Cha Cha could leave from Oxfordshire and David from Cornwall."

"And?"

"And...," Tarne faltered a second, "and it was hoped,--"

"Hoped?" Vavnu demanded. "The best you had was hope?"

"Brahm had also asked for both vessels to be reunited."

Outside, Demos and Lor-Soven quietly overturned a table and began to remove the fastenings that held the legs.

"It's just unfortunate that Brahm has been so...unwell...since the Earth people left...,"

"It's his own fault," Vavnu protested. "He has no experience dealing with gods. He thinks it's a simple thing, like speaking to a person."

"But the Commander," I turned my face to see Tarne gesture in my direction, "has had considerable experience. It was Ahm-Lat who gave him instructions to launch our ship, and Ahm-Lat who told him we would connect with yours."

Vavnu seemed to consider this. "I have never heard of Ahm-Lat," she replied.

Tarne nodded. "Ah," he said. He folded his arms and walked in a slow, thoughtful circle. "Of course, the Commander knew from experience that there have always been...other powers which might imitate the actions of a god. If, for example, someone wanted to oppose us..."

Hairs on the back of the doctor's neck stood on end.

"Do you understand?" Tarne asked. "All gods have their enemies, and women who serve those enemies." A low, ugly noise started in Vavnu's throat. I glanced to my left. Our men had flattened themselves against the wall outside the entrance.

"You may be angry, but what else could we conclude?" Tarne went on. "Brahm is suddenly ill, so ill he is hardly awake. The Commander tries repeatedly to speak with the god himself, yet it seems, well...,"

"What?" she hissed.

"There seems to be some interference—with the normal process of things."

Tarne stopped and faced her. The room was quiet; even the doctor's growling stopped. She looked beyond Tarne, into the corridor. Her nostrils flared.

"What do you want?" she asked. Her voice finally had some fear.

"Only someone with your knowledge," Tarne said, "could achieve this."

"You," she shook her head, "you don't have any idea--,"

Tarne cleared his throat with two coughs, the second being louder than the first. Demos and Lor-Soven entered the room with their improvised weapons. Once she saw these, she laid herself flat against her patient, and drew Brahm's limp head into her embrace.

"Please don't take me from him. Please."

But there was no option. Not while we knew so little about witches.

"Please," she begged, "give me more time."

Even back home in Omri, the best knowledge was rumors. And so we were compelled to experiment, to see what would happen if she could not see him, could not touch him. We had made a secure room ready to confine her. I got up from the bench and took a table leg from Demos.

## CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

" **Dear Mnemosyne"**

A Film of Unknown Length

Act 16, Scene 51

INT. Holport Community Church)

This is the church CHA CHA and her AUNTIE MAI attend. Set Designers please note, this will not be a location of outstanding natural beauty. Please create a cubed space with magnolia walls, a low ceiling and rows of brown plastic stackable chairs. It used to be a Methodist chapel, but the Methodists had to sell it. Either they took the pews with them or those were removed later, so there would be floor space to rent out to slimming clubs and yoga classes. All the hassocks – the little cushions that some Christians kneel on – remain, and the ushers like to set them out as if they might be used, but this is strictly a sitting down church, with some standing for hymns and prayers.

The service is underway. AUNTIE MAI has decided that CHA CHA will sit in the back row. That way, anyone who still feels the need to turn and gawp at her niece, that crazy girl who got herself hit by a car and ran off to London, would make it obvious they are the kind of person who can't keep their nose out of other people's business.

NOAH sits in the back row with them. Lovely NOAH – the model of chivalry and along with CHA CHA's cousin Han, he's now a big hero in the media. When the BBC interviewed him he told them how he knew she was going through a difficult time but that he intended to support her, because...how did he put it? She wrote it down in this notebook - because 'her heart is really right and whatever it might seem to other people, she's a beautiful person and that will come out in time'. Sweet.

However, being the lady to whom chivalry is done is like being Noah's biology project. He's always checking on you to see if conditions have changed in the last ten minutes. He can't leave you alone. Any little thing about your environment could be crucial, so he has to ask you questions. And yes, before you ask, CHA CHA do remember exactly how much she nagged him about not asking enough.

He'd like to ask questions now, but PASTOR REDFORD is SPEAKING and they can't talk. They can't text because ushers prowl the aisles and embarrass anybody who forgets to switch off their phone or pretends they did. We are left with the old fashioned option. Because she told him to, Noah has brought his own notebook and pen to take notes. If he wants to ask a question, he writes it down and tilts the book so that CHA CHA can read. She writes her reply on her own paper. Assume all diaglogue between them is written, unless otherwise directed.

PASTOR REDFORD  
It's interesting, really, if you ask yourself this question about the Christmas story. What was it like for all those people who weren't visited by angels?

NOAH  
Eh?

PASTOR REDFORD  
Think about it. All those relatives and neighbors and friends of Zachariah and Elizabeth, all those relatives and neighbors and friends of Joseph and Mary. It couldn't have been easy for them. You know that Joseph, before the angel visited him and told him that Mary's child would be the Messiah, he was going to treat her just like any other woman who got pregnant out of wedlock. Which meant he'd never have married her, and she would have been in disgrace the rest of her life. But did Mary's mother, or father, or aunts and uncles – did an angel come down from heaven and tell them what was really going on?

CHA CHA  
How much Bible u know?

NOAH  
Zero.

CHA CHAN  
Long Xplanation 4 Later.

PASTOR REDFORD  
Now it's possible that, in time, they all came to recognize John the Baptist and Jesus and believed they were men of God. But they didn't get any help from angels. And I'm never sure whether God sent the angels to some people because they needed a supernatural experience to help them cope, or whether He would have sent angels to everyone but not everyone was able to deal with an angel.

NOAH  
Bored now.

CHA CHA  
So change subject.

NOAH  
How many here believe - really?

CHA CHA  
No idea.

NOAH  
Guess.

CHA CHA  
Three.

NOAH  
Wht abt yr auntie?

CHA CHA  
Likes God – not believes.

NOAH  
Come again?

CHA CHA  
Also xplain later. One is Mrs.R – pastor's wife.

NOAH  
Not Mr?

CHA CHA  
Only talks in sermons. Two is man in 1st row w beard. Martin. Has to.

NOAH  
Has to?

CHA CHA  
Or kill himself. Or us.

NOAH  
Scaring me now.

CHA CHA  
He's ok -- drugs work.

NOAH  
OMG.

CHA CHA  
Don't see 3rd one here.

NOAH  
Describe.

CHA CHA  
Female, fit 4 age, blond, wears suits. Two girls.

NOAH  
Name?

CHA CHA  
Dunno.

NOAH  
How U know she believes?

CHA CHA  
Guess. Girls R sweet.

NOAH  
Only three – sad.

CHA CHA  
Told u - don't know many.

(At this point AUNTIE MAI COUGHS. CHA CHA knows this means she and NOAH have to cool it for a while because other people have noticed their strange form of conversation, even though it's the back row!)

PASTOR REDFORD  
If it turns out that you are one of those people to whom God does not reveal his true purpose (and that will probably be most of you), if he does not send you angels – be glad. If it turns out that life as you live it doesn't appear to make any sense – rejoice! You join thousands of believers throughout history who were never visited by angels, never carried up into heaven, never saw the Red Sea part.

(From one of the rows near the front A WOMAN suddenly stands, makes her way to the aisle and walks quickly to the back of the church. CHA CHA recognizes her as the 3rd believing person she described to NOAH. She taps him on the knee, but he's already watching. He squeezes her hand really tight and she is momentarily confused. Then he grabs his notebook and pen.)

NOAH  
It's her.

(CHA CHA nods)

NOAH (CONT.)  
No--Wife of guy hit u w car.

(CHA CHA shakes her head, but NOAH nods.)

NOAH (CONT.)  
Watched the news til iballs fell out. IS her. Seen that suit 2.

(CHA CHA turns to look at AUNTIE MAI. She doesn't expect to see the slightest flicker of reaction, whether or not Auntie knows anything about this. And she isn't disappointed. So she leans closer, and whispers in her ear.)

CHA CHA  
I need the Ladies.

(AUNTIE MAI gives her a peeved look, because bladders are things you should take care of before the service.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
(a quieter, conspiratorial whisper)  
Period.

(AUNTIE waves a hand to dismiss her. CHA CHA gets up, shuffles past the other people in her row with smiles and apologies. Once she reaches the aisle, she heads straight to the back, through double doors to the foyer. The Ladies' toilets are on her right, but CHA CHA pauses to peer through the large windows on the front doors directly in front of her, which look out on the car park. The blond woman is standing outside, hugging herself to keep warm, and looking lost.)

Director's Notes: A weird moment, and once again film can't do it. Four weeks ago Cha Cha left David behind—no loss there. She doesn't know where he went. He kept it secret – that way, she couldn't accidentally say something to blow his alibi. So it's over. Normal life should now resume. She never really met his wife, and normal means that shouldn't change. Yet suddenly she's fighting this craving to know, to know, even though she couldn't tell you what she wants to learn. It came over her in seconds, but it feels like she's been yearning for years. She works out that, if she goes into the Ladies' and shuts herself in the disabled cubicle, there will be nothing but a single pane of glass and a venetian blind between her and Mrs. David. She can hear someone else coming from the hall, and that just helps make the decision.)

INT. Disabled cubicle, Ladies' toilets

CHA CHA is leaning with her head as close to the blinds as she can get without touching. Off camera, we can hear a DOOR OPEN and SHUT, and HIGH HEELED SHOES on the ground outside.)

MRS REDORD  
Cigarette?

MRS DAVID  
Shouldn't.

MRS REDFORD  
You'll freeze out here.

MRS DAVID  
Tell Gerald it wasn't anything to do with him.

(MRS REDFORD laughs)

MRS DAVID (CONT.)  
Honestly...,

MRS REDFORD  
Maybe you've come back too soon.

MRS DAVID  
(sighs)  
Angels...he shouldn't get people's hopes up.

MRS REDFORD  
How do you mean?

MRS DAVID  
What if I really need an explanation? Sue, if David's supposed to be suffering from all this stress and overwork, like he says, shouldn't he want to spend some time at home?

MRS REDFORD  
Well...

MRS DAVID  
Elly says, "Daddy's been on holiday, but he's come back all grumpy."

(sympathetic SNIFF from MRS REDFORD)

MRS DAVID (CONT.)  
Alyson says she can cope, tells him to stay away from the office, but he won't listen. And I can't--  
(voice trembles)  
I can't have a conversation with him about anything.

MRS REDFORD  
(blows out smoke)  
There's got to be someone else.

MRS DAVID  
Then where is she? I mean, show me a woman he's ever nice to, you know, over time. Remember you met Alyson, and you wondered...? But he's horrible to her! Rings her up at all hours and sends emails like she's a slave – she's the one who should be stressed.

MRS REDFORD  
Is he coming to our concert?

MRS DAVID  
I've bought tickets, I've told him. The girls ask him; they want to show him their costumes now but I'm making them wait.

MRS REDFORD  
Fingers crossed, then.

(There is a long silence. CHA CHA wants to wait it out, but the length of time she's been away will be making AUNTIE MAI suspicious. Just as she is about to unlock the cubicle door...)

MRS DAVID  
(on verge of tears)  
I just think...he really never wanted to come back.

MRS REDFORD  
Hey, now...Lucy...

(Cubicle door bursts open. CHA CHA charges out, does not stop or lose the enraged gleam in her eyes. It freaks NOAH. As she sits down beside him, he puts a hand on her shoulder and tries to question her with a look. She ignores him for a minute, then suddenly picks up her notebook and starts writing.)

CHA CHA  
Come 2 Xmas concert?

## CHAPTER NINETEEN

The phone rang and her cousin took it. "Travistock Wines."

She got Sam to agree a lower fee, which was taking advantage of family, but they needed someone better than a temp. Sam sat at Alyson's desk. Alyson sat at David's until he came back, and then she bought a mobile workstation and set that up in his office. He reminded her daily that the castors would leave marks in the carpet.

But they were together, heads in the same room solving the same problems. It was the way she first imagined they would work together, when he convinced her to leave Simon's firm. Maybe it would get that way yet. When he rang her from the cottage – rang her first, before anybody else – she'd driven straight down. She knocked on the back door and he literally pulled her inside.

"I thought we were going to send this chair back," he complained now.

"What?" she came out of her reverie.

"Because the stitching, here..."

She had to leave what she was doing, and walk round to the back of his desk, to see him pulling on the seam.

"You'll make it worse," she warned.

"Can't make it worse if it's already bad."

"I don't think they'd take it back now."

Still David kept tugging the leather, twirling the loose thread that dangled. "Umm," was all he said.

"Calculated profit margins on Grady's," she told him.

"Oh yeah." He finally forgot the chair and sat up to look at his computer. "Which is the better option?"

She went back to the workstation. "I've emailed it--you'll see."

She watched him while he read, so her head could return briefly to Cornwall. Feeling his beard against her throat had shocked her. Maybe she should have anticipated the rush but she hadn't. And then she loved it, because it made him more hers, a person only she knew. Of course he had to shave it and she bought the razors, but she relished a snapshot memory of the whiskers up close, the little brown ones and the odd grey.

"It looks fine," he said, "if they keep up those volumes."

"I've drafted a clause in their contract."

"And they'll sign it?" he asked doubtfully.

"If Simon's offered something better, they'd say."

"Or you could probably just ask Simon."

She let that one go. Only time was going to convince him that one pot of tea with his brother-in-law didn't mean she'd been on the edge, about to betray him. Then speak of the devil – she could hear Sam say his name into the phone. She hurried out before she was called.

"Mr Horne is in the lobby," her cousin whispered. She picked up vibes very quickly. "Wants you to see you."

Alyson frowned. "If David asks, say we ran out of coffee. And hide what we've got."

All the way downstairs, she wondered what it would be this time. She'd have to end it. She should have done so straight after Cornwall, but she let it go. Hard to refuse Simon when he observed boundaries so carefully and his only fault was caring too much, protecting a little too much, where family was concerned. But everything was fine now. Alyson stopped at the top of the last flight to choose her words. She would insist he stop inventing reasons to drop by; it wasn't professional. And she didn't need anything else on her mind. It should be smooth sailing until David saw his solicitor, put divorce papers together, and they stopped pretending.

Then she went through the door to the lobby, and saw a glittery little parcel in his hands.

"Simon," she shook her head.

"What?" he asked, and handed her the gift. "You can't retire on it. You've put up with me and my paranoia, so it's just good manners. Happy Christmas."

"Okay," she said, "thank you. But I--,"

"Wait!" he interrupted. "Can I just...not have you say it?"

She couldn't help but smile. "What was I going to say?"

Simon looked like he was digging for something inside his jacket. "I would like us to agree that I graciously withdrew, and not that you beat me off with a stick."

She pretended to think about it. "All right."

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, and then they both laughed. "One more favour," he asked. And before she could protest he added, "Not for me. For Lucy." He pulled an envelope out of his coat and handed it to her.

"Want me to open it now?" she asked, and he nodded. It had a red wax seal on the back, a bit messy with no insignia. She broke it and pulled out a card with a child's drawing of the nativity.

"Other side," he said. She turned it over. It was a printed invitation to a concert at the Holport Community Church. At the bottom, in blue biro, Lucy had written. I know it's a terrible way to ask, but if you come David won't have any excuse. Please help – Sophie and Elly need to have a normal Christmas.

It made her cold. This wasn't smooth sailing. She tried to think of an excuse quickly, but as she was doing that she realised it would look much better if she accepted.

"Sure," she said.

"You won't be working that Saturday?"

"Oh, probably."

"Could you not? Could you...put your foot down or...?"

"Simon!"

"You know what he's like. If he has to come from London he'll be late, and so will you."

"So I'll have to drive myself up there?"

"I could bring you."

She pretended to slap him with the envelope. "I'm going to get that stick."

He turned away. "Okay. Gotcha."

"You're pushing it as it is."

"I know," he said. He bowed his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"We're competition, remember?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. You're right, you always are." And he walked straight to the front door. "Take care," he said, and quick as that he was gone. She stayed in a lobby a while, like she wasn't sure if she'd won that battle. All the while, she gently squeezed the parcel. Finally, she went to the Ladies' and opened it; it was a silk scarf in smoky colours with a hint of silver. She threw the wrapping paper in the bin and draped the scarf round her neck. Then she returned to the office.

***

As soon as David heard her talking to Sam he called, "Alyson!" And he scuffed the corner of the carpet with his shoe until he saw her head come through the door.

"This too. Why haven't we made them come and finish the job?"

"It's just fluff," she said, "I'll leave a note for the cleaner."

"You shouldn't have to do that." But she hadn't even bothered to look, just went straight to her workstation.

Rub it in, he thought. Her powers of concentration were having to make up for his. He glanced round, trying to remember if there had been any other problem with the decorating. He could so easily get on the phone right now and book a new firm, have them rip everything out and start again.

"Blends," she said. "St. Aubyn's have sent quotes."

"Really?" he replied.

"Wonder what their 2009 Shiraz Viognier is like?"

He came up behind her, watched the screen long enough to read a sentence. "Get some samples, if you like." That was all the enthusiasm he could manage. His eyes dropped away to run along the parting in her hair, then down the length of it to the back of her neck where a scarf frothed out the collar of her blouse. Nice, she always looked so nice. And at the cottage, when he'd opened the door to her, all that hair and soft cloth and skin were amazingly powerful, like anyone's first time. And if he'd sounded like a man insane with love, it was also because he was sure nobody else would support him the way he was going to need support, depending on how bad things got.

As it was, things went well, much better than expected. Life got back to normal. And it didn't take long before normal reminded him how much he hated it.

"Shiraz Viognier," she said, typing away, "and Chablis?"

"If you like."

He must have let too much apathy seep into his voice, because she tipped her head back to look at him.

"Their Chablis is good," he added.

"By the way," she said, "Lucy asked me to come to Sophie and Elly's concert."

"When did she do that?"

"Before you came back. I'd just remembered."

He found he was standing behind his own desk without being aware he'd moved.

"You said yes?" he asked.

"I did. So I should go."

"You don't have to."

She leaned over and tapped his pen holder. "It would look better if we did. Yes it would," she said louder, because he'd so obviously waved her words away. "And it would be a break for both of us – unless you had something else planned."

"No," he admitted. He pushed his mouse back and forth, watched her email reappear on his screen. Trapped again. That was the line his mind kept repeating, in between begging him to find something fresh, another way to escape the mundane. But the serious part of him knew he couldn't keep changing. It made no sense. All his experience in wine, and it wasn't as though he had any new career in mind. And there would never be another woman he could meet who wouldn't eventually feel like a cement shoe. No. Maybe all that time in deep space, with nothing to do, had made him worse. He needed to give himself a serious kicking.

He sat down. "But if we're going to lose that working time, I want estimates for St. Aubyn's, DeVries and Spartan Creek sorted. And samples – so everything gets here before the holiday."

That raised her eyebrows a second. Then she shrugged. "Okay," she said, and started typing. So he had no choice but to join her.

At five-thirty her cousin came in to say good night. "Lovely scarf," she pointed at Alyson. And the two women exchanged a wink, which baffled him.

## CHAPTER TWENTY

She had been too busy to notice. There had always been someone who needed a doctor.

Now she was locked in a room with nothing to do but watch how subtly the ship changed its lighting. In the early period after rest session you could look at the walls and the white surface would have the faintest tinge of pink. This would gradually clear, and for a while all colors, such as there were, appeared to be pure versions of themselves. When the screen in her cell was working, she would hear the signal to start the next stage, when everything turned a little golden. The light would grow richer but also duller. As it got closer to rest session again, the walls looked almost mauve.

It was ideal for shamanic devotions. At first she decided to perform five each day, which was more than she'd ever done when her days had been measured by a real sun. What would her family have thought? She had to smile. They would think she was preparing to die, and they would be envious. The war meant almost nobody had this luxury.

And so, each time the light changed, Vavnu sat absolutely still with her tail wrapped round her on the floor and stared ahead, absorbing the whiteness. She counted her breaths. After she reached one hundred and eleven she closed her eyes. After two hundred she opened them and stretched forward as far as she could. Her claws came out from her fingers and grasped at empty air. After the final hundred she stood and pressed herself against the nearest wall.

And while her nose was flattened and breathing hurt, she recited the names. Hundreds of sacred beings from the few worlds she knew. At the end she added the name of Sesom and Tarne's god, 'Ahm-Lat'. She did not ask for anything. When she finished she cleaned the wall where her face had been, ate some of the food they brought her, and tried to access her monitor for images of Cornwall.

She loved this place. She loved the way the land dipped and swelled and swept. She loved the rain driven hard against the ground by the wind, and the snow. She loved the strange little dwelling where David had gone, and carefully studied any similar creature when it came into view, which was rare. She noticed the river which ran nearby, when it froze and thawed and froze again. She could and did imagine being outside, how long it might take her to find food and whether her fur would thicken.

She could fill the waking time with these distractions, some of the sleeping time as well. But lately her monitor had begun to flicker. It started as a momentary loss of picture, the image broken into jagged lines, but as days went by it happened more and more. It was bad today, and the light changes were not working in sequence.

That was hard. It gave her no choice but to remember why she was there. Then she would think of Brahm, and the only thing that would keep her from deciding to kill herself was the chance that he might be alive and need her. So she had no choice. If the screen was faulty she could only increase the number of devotions: she stared and stretched and breathed, stared and stretched and breathed, and recited the names.

***

Omri Date: 8342 (Launch plus 1097) Quarter El, Cycle 25

Plus ten degrees: I took my chair to Medical and sat inside one of the hygiene stations. This is the third in a series of experiments, begun in Cycle 24, which I did not previously record. Meditation in my quarters has become too difficult. Memory has recorded seventeen per cent more system faults as part of its regular audits, including errors in the audits themselves. And regardless of the severity, every fault sets off an alarm in my office.

To get some peace from these disturbances, I moved my chair to the feeding station. But on the three occasions I tried to meditate there, a fault occurred with the sterilizer so that it began to break utensils. It was like listening to bones being broken by giant teeth.

Tarne suggested I try one of the storage bays. This was fine the first time, though the meditation gave me nothing. On my next attempt, in the same location, we are not sure exactly what went wrong. I asked Tarne to adjust the temperature because the room seemed chilly. The controls have Udoric words which sometimes have different spellings. But I cannot find any record in Memory that the wrong command was chosen. Yet I came out of meditation sweating and gasping for air.

And for every fault, there are just as many alarms which turn out to be false. Three reports of lens damage in the Observation Room, and Demos made three inspections. He found nothing. Throughout all this we have tried to remain calm. The issue of witchcraft is frequently discussed. I proposed we should kill Shamana Vavnu. Demos wasn't sure, but Tarne and Lor-Soven disagreed with me. It's not because they doubt her power. As Tarne explained, "What if this spell is something only she can stop?"

If we could search our own archives they might have more information. But they remain on my ship, which we presume still waits for us in the place called Oxfordshire.

Plus eleven to plus thirteen degrees: I opened one of the outlets in the hygiene station. I felt the sound of falling water, going from fountainhead to drain, would be soothing. Then I sat in my chair, closed my eyes and prepared myself.

Plus thirteen to fifteen: Unstructured time. If I were a child I could simply cry. As a man, I have to try and find reasons. Ahm-Lat put us all to sleep. A thousand years later we awoke and nothing made sense. What makes this the better fate? I ask, but Ahm-Lat chooses to be silent. I sit in this chair and ask, beg, argue for guidance. This time I didn't have the patience for any of those, but it wouldn't have mattered if I did. I saw Arnor. His face taunts me, teeters on disappearance from the start. Shortly he goes, and all I see is Brahm. Brahm, Brahm, Brahm. Yet in reality he hasn't been conscious for days. He breathes, his heart beats. Otherwise his body has given up. What am I supposed to get from him?

Plus sixteen to nineteen degrees: Tarne opened the door to the hygiene station, and a rush of water knocked him to the floor. His shout broke my trance. I stood to find myself in water up to my knees. I waded over to the outlet I'd opened. It was shut off, but every one of the others ran hard. Tarne got back on his feet and returned, helped me shut off the supply. Then we checked the drains; every one had been sealed.

"How could it?" I asked. "I didn't..."

Tarne didn't seem in a mood to listen. He trudged to the monitors in Medical Control, asked them to clean the floors and absorb the excess moisture. "There's worse," he finally told me.

"Worse?"

We went back down the wet corridor and turned into Brahm's room. Lor-Soven stood by the patient, as he'd been assigned. As he saw us enter, he looked away.

"Tell the commander what happened," Tarne ordered.

Lor-Soven talked to the floor. "I came here at minus five degrees. Brahm was lying still. Then at plus two degrees he started to shake. And his mouth came open--," Lor-Soven showed us the position, neck arched painfully. "At plus seven the shaking stopped but he was...contorted. He could barely breathe. I tried to make him comfortable, but I couldn't move him. About plus thirteen, he took one heaving breath and went limp."

"He's dead?" I asked.

"He doesn't breathe," Tarne said. "He has no pulse."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

Lor-Soven shut his eyes. "I was afraid to leave."

"Afraid?"

"I went to the monitor, to add a report to Memory. When I touched the screen it stopped functioning."

"Why not go to--,"

"And the lights went out, completely. I thought...I thought the whole ship had gone dark."

Tarne added, "Lights went out in the Control Room also. We think it was the same time. And we lost all systems. When they revived we ran an audit, but found no fault."

"How long did the darkness last?" I asked.

"Maybe a degree," Tarne said.

"Longer," Lor-Soven shook his head, "much longer."

"So," I concluded, "Brahm has been dead since the beginning of the day."

"We're not sure," replied Tarne.

"But you've said--,"

"He doesn't feel cold," Lor-Soven insisted, "and he isn't stiff."

I came alongside the bed to examine the body. I stared at Brahm's chest – the clothing had been stripped but you could not see the lungs fill, not even slightly. I let my open hand hover over his mouth and nose. I could feel warmth rise off the skin, considerable warmth, like a low fever. But no moving air. I picked up his hand and curled the fingers.

"What?" I asked him. I squeezed the hand, hard. "What?"

"Commander...," I heard Tarne say.

"What do you want?!"

Tarne came and put an arm over my shoulder. He leaned in close.

"It has to be her," he murmured.

"What," I snapped, "and she dictates what I see in meditation as well?"

He couldn't answer this.

"Well," I demanded, "does she? Are witches so powerful they shut the mouth of God?"

Tarne knew this was a dangerous question, so he did not answer. "All this has happened since we imprisoned her," he observed instead.

"All this," I let Brahm's hand drop, and swept both my arms in the air, "has been happening since we woke."

We were silent, overwhelmed. Brahm's hand hung over the side of his bed, swaying. Tarne lifted it and laid it across his chest.

"Let Shamana Vavnu go free," I decided at last. I couldn't tell if he wanted to argue.

***

To see him again was having the answer to a prayer she would never have thought to ask. Tarne and his nephews brought her to Medical, watched as she examined him. Were they surprised that she had a procedure for something they'd never seen? She took note of all Brahm's symptoms and they led her to one conclusion.

"Well?" Tarne said when she was done.

He sounded angry but she didn't have anger left. She was enthralled. This was such a rare, rare privilege. Her teachers, and her teachers' teachers had all died believing but none of them had never seen this.

"I can't say yet," she answered.

"What do you mean?"

Then again, they might know. On some worlds, she'd been told, there were stories told to entertain children but they were truths, truths that hardly ever happened so naturally people had forgotten to treat them properly.

"He isn't dead," she said.

"Then what is he?" Tarne asked.

She ignored him. Being rude hardly mattered and she didn't care what they decided about her because of it. The really difficult task was waiting until they got tired of standing guard, and finally left her alone. Then she dressed Brahm. They'd left him naked as if he were nothing better than a corpse. She put the bed cover over him, and went to fetch more. On her world, his head would have rested on cushions. He would have been draped with fur lined kezan for warmth, and the High Shamana would decide which colors should be woven into those quilts, which sigils, and how many stone beads should be knotted into the fringe.

His face would have been framed by garlands of flowers, changed daily. Vavnu had nothing but a bracelet of glittery threads, a gift from Cha Cha. She took it off her wrist and placed it in the middle of Brahm's forehead. She adjusted the circle, to make it as perfect as she could. Her fingers trembled.

When she had finished the monitor in the room toned to announce a change in the light. Vavnu stood straight, took a few steps away and sat on the floor. She curled her tail around herself and began her devotions. When it came time to recite the names of the gods she returned to the bed, pressed her face against the Udoran's and added him to the list.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"I am pink angel," Elspeth in the backseat, talking to herself. "I give you wishes!"

Beside her, Sophie sang 'Away in a Manger'. She seemed happy, though Lucy could not explain why the shepherd's dog, which she would play tonight, wasn't mentioned in the Bible. Everything was going better than she'd hoped. David took the day off. He had packed the girls' costumes in one of his garment carriers so Lucy had time to get ready. They were in the same car at the same time, driving to the church. He looked a little tired, maybe, or just far away. He might be coming down with a cold. But there was no hostility in his distance; it wasn't painful to sit next to him.

And someone had filled the pothole at the entrance, so the car turned in smoothly. They parked, got out, and arranged themselves and their belongings so when they walked through the front doors they were ready to meet Gerald and his camera.

"Here's our celebrity family," the pastor said.

"Celebrity?" Lucy asked.

"Well, you look like you should be famous." He held out a hand to David. "Gerald Redford. No relation to Robert."

"Nice to meet you," her husband replied. They said a few more, neither here nor there things. The girls tugged on their sleeves. Then they excused themselves and went through to the foyer into the main hall.

They didn't need help to find their place, but Martin had been appointed usher and wore a tartan waistcoat and badge to prove it. So Lucy surrendered her tickets and brought up the rear as they went single file down the far left aisle. The plastic chairs had been nicely covered. On each seat there was a program and a cellophane parcel of treats. Both girls spotted the bag on their mother's chair and began to point and beg.

"You can share mine now," Lucy told them, "but you've got to save room because after the concert there's going to be a big surprise." She enjoyed how their faces changed. "It'll be better than these." And while they whooped in celebration she reached for David's arm and asked, "Could I have the garment bag? I'll take them backstage."

He might not have heard her, because of all the girls' noise. His gaze seemed more distant, if that were possible. He stared at his chair. Instead of a parcel he had...well, it reminded her of those little rice bowls they got in Chinese restaurants. This one had no decoration, just white, and a little scoop that fit snugly inside.

"Where did that come from?" she asked.

"No idea," he murmured. Then he seemed to snap out of trance. "Bag," he said, and gave her the costumes. He also gave her a kiss, sweeping and soft, on the lips. Between that moment and the start of the concert she dug around in memory, trying to recall the previous time that happened.

***

" **Dear Mnemosyne"**

A Film of Unknown Length

Act 16, Scene 52

INT. Holport Community Church, aisle 25, seats 1 and 2

Because CHA CHA has agreed to be one of Santa's little helpers after the show, she wears an elf costume complete with jingle bell hat, pointed ears and a beard drawn on her face with eyeliner pencil. Perfect disguise. She watches DAVID. He's seen the cup and scoop she left on his chair, and now he is scanning the room, trying to spot her. NOAH, unaware that tonight will consist of anything more than light entertainment, eats his candy.)

CHA CHA  
(glancing down at NOAH)  
Gotta go.

NOAH  
(chewing)  
Where?

CHA CHA  
Up front. Won't be long.

(CHA CHA heads for a door to the left of the stage. On Sundays, everyone stores their coats and umbrellas there, and Gerald Redford has an office. Tonight it's a dressing room for the performers. CHA CHA picks her spot – on the aisle less than six feet away from DAVID—but every parent with a child has to pass her on their way to get ready. As the first family approaches, CHA CHA swallows her pride and does a stupid dance that jingles the bells on her hat. It does the trick. The children are thrilled, the parents want to take a photo, and the commotion has got the attention of the person it was really meant for.

She pretends she hasn't noticed him, and that feels like drugs (guessing!). She is big now -- big and powerful and in charge of this situation. She smiles for the photo, and then she gives that smile to him. He looks...he...hang on...he doesn't have a look. I mean it, if he stood still inside Madame Tussauds they'd put a name plate on the floor between his feet. CHA CHA stops smiling. It's worse than she thought.

So she reaches into her pocket for the tiny piece of folded paper she prepared for this kind of emergency. Then she bends down, as if she needs to pick something off the bottom of her shoe, and she places the paper against the wall. She straightens up, makes eye contact with DAVID, points at the floor, and then it's time for another stupid dance. Once that is over she makes an excuse to the next parents, to convince them that she's been entertaining kiddies for hours without a break. They are very understanding.

On her way back to her seat, she checks that her mobile is set to vibrate.)

***

Simon and Alyson had seats a few rows back. During the second act, while Sophie skipped faithfully across the stage behind her shepherds in search of baby Jesus, Simon laid his hand over hers. Alyson didn't pull away. She didn't move her hand at all. She stared straight into the back of David's head and wished she could just drill inside to get the information she needed.

Provocation hadn't worked. After days of working with a man who was sluggish, distracted and immune to flirting, Alyson tried lighting a fuse. "Simon rang the other day," she remarked in passing, "asked if I'd like a lift to the Christmas concert." And she waited for the explosion, the rant, hopefully an angry phone call made behind closed doors. A man fights for what he truly wants, and if he'd done that she could have made up her mind.

But he didn't. She would almost have said he looked relieved—relieved! And he muttered a half chewed reply about how Lucy had been dropping hints about finishing work early, et cetera. There was no affection in those words either. She watched them tonight, like a hawk, but they only behaved correctly, not with feeling.

To compensate for the unclear signal her right hand was giving Simon, she took her left one and brought it up to her forehead. She pinched the space between her eyebrows and grimaced. They exchanged a glance. She tried to plead with her eyes, except she had no way to tell him how much more time it might take before she could know for sure. He frowned, took his hand away and folded his arms across his chest.

***

Act 16, Scene 53

EXT. Holport Community Church

Go out the front doors, turn left at the end of the building. It's scrubby round there—a narrow concrete block path is being slowly squeezed out by bramble and nettles. For that reason it's also private. CHA CHA works her way down that path to its end, where she is safe to take off her fake ears and hat and remove the band keeping her hair up. Get a close up shot from behind her head as she takes out her mobile and reads this text message: 'Got it'. She replies, giving directions to this spot. Then she waits, dancing for a different reason now, because the costume isn't very warm.

Cut to a shot that follows DAVID down the path until he is close to her. He will check behind him, to see if it's safe, before he speaks.)

DAVID  
This has to be quick.

CHA CHA  
You look happy.

DAVID  
Thanks.

CHA CHA  
The only reason I let you talk me into leaving was because I thought you wanted to be with your family.

DAVID  
That's rubbish. You wanted to be with yours as well.

CHA CHA  
(resigned shrug)  
I suppose they're all right.  
(walks around, bouncing, trying to keep warm  
But I'm sixteen. I'm not expected to know what I really want. What's your excuse?

DAVID  
There are some things that have to be done, whether you want them or not.

CHA CHA  
I suppose.

DAVID  
Can I go now?

CHA CHA  
I've heard your wife talking. Do you know how unhappy she is?

DAVID  
You know nothing.

CHA CHA  
Better believe it. She says the way you act, it's like you wish you'd never come back.

DAVID  
Marriage counselor now, are you?

CHA CHA  
You didn't have to text me.

DAVID  
(pause)  
I figured you might want money.

CHA CHA  
For what?

DAVID  
To keep quiet.

CHA CHA  
You think I'd do that?

DAVID  
I'm not sure what you'd do.

CHA CHA  
(spins on the heels of her shoes, searching for words)  
I'm a bit...unpredictable, okay, not criminal.

DAVID  
(turns to walk away)  
Fine

CHA CHA  
But if you could –

(DAVID stops)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
If you could go back on board, right now...

DAVID  
(turns to her)  
Why are we even discussing this?

CHA CHA  
Because it isn't enough, is it?  
(pauses, wanting to see that zombie look come back into his eyes)  
Once something like that happens, like it happened to us, the universe is blown open. You can't—I can't—experience that and then just go back to normal.

DAVID  
(quiet for a moment, then shrugs)  
You have to.

CHA CHA  
I can't. I mean, I'll probably be all right now, but what about when I get to your age?

(Oh, gotcha. That hit target.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
How long will you be able to pretend?

DAVID  
As long as it takes.

CHA CHA  
Liar.

DAVID  
I don't care if you believe me.

CHA CHA  
Who said anything about belief? Have you seen your own face lately?

DAVID  
It's a little more complicated...for me.

CHA CHA  
Is it?  
(And then she thinks)  
Yeah, all right, maybe for you it is. But me, I've got to make the right decision now, before I get older and things get more...complicated.

DAVID  
Good luck.

(For a long time they just glare at each other. And then, because the cold has seeped below skin level, CHA CHA'S body goes into automatic shudder. It makes her hunch and grimace, and while it's true she feels sorry for herself, maybe it looks worse than that because DAVID, the bloke not known for his warm, fuzzy side, comes up and puts his hand on her shoulder.)

DAVID  
You've got to try...okay?

CHA CHA  
Yeah.

DAVID  
If we could have it some other way then...maybe...maybe we could have a proper discussion but it's fantasy. As good as fantasy.

CHA CHA  
Yeah.

DAVID  
And it's better we pretend we never knew each other. It was hard enough making up one alibi--,

(A BRANCH from a bramble bush SNAPS. They both turn to look.)

DAVID (CONT.)  
What was that?

CHA CHA  
Bird, maybe.

DAVID  
I've got to go.

CHA CHA  
How was Brahm?

DAVID  
What? No, we're not talking about this any more.

CHA CHA  
Just tell me.

DAVID  
No.

CHA CHA  
If you're not telling me then it's bad.

(DAVID turns and starts walking up the path. He gets his coat caught in the bushes.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
(calling after him)  
If everything was fine you'd just say 'He was fine'. You would...

(DAVID pulls himself free, which causes another SNAPPING SOUND. CHA CHA gets louder.)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
I hurt him, didn't I?

(DAVID gets to the top of the path and turns the corner. Do I have to describe what happens next? No. This is CHA CHA's movie and she'll cut scenes wherever she wants to. Just let it end with this shot -- when she's finished crying, and come out from that hiding place, there was this man and woman in a dark corner of the car park, kissing like they'd just invented it.)

***

Alyson walked quickly back inside, went straight to the Ladies to check her scarf in the mirror. The bush had caught one of the silver threads and pulled. Now the fabric was rutched and warped, with a loose thread hanging. She took a nail scissors from her bag and trimmed it. She smoothed the silk and arranged it round her neck again. She adjusted her hair. She adjusted her emotions.

When she came out in the foyer David was having a conversation with the pastor. Children were running around shrieking, showing off the surprise gifts they'd received. That was how she could view the conversation she just witnessed, if she wanted.

Lucy stood with Simon in the main hall, looking anxious. "Have you seen David?" she asked when Alyson returned. What a question.

"He's chatting with Mr. Redford."

"He'll be there ages," Simon remarked.

"How's your head?" Lucy asked.

Alyson made a 'so-so' motion with her hand. "I got a bit of fresh air, took some tablets."

"That's how it starts, this bug that's been going round."

"Did you want to head back?" Simon asked.

Alyson sighed, as if it was against her better principles. "I probably should."

He put on his coat while the two women embraced. "Thank you for coming," Lucy spoke into Alyson's ear, "thank you for everything."

"It was no problem."

"I think things...are getting better now."

"Good," Alyson held her tighter. "I'm glad." And they kissed on both cheeks.

On their way out, Simon walked in front of her, not beside. David was no longer in the foyer, which was just as well. They continued single file across the car park, but in her private darkness Alyson could smile. The illness she invented, as a way to get some relief from the pressure of making a choice, had turned into something better. She was sorry to cause Simon pain in the meantime; she hoped she could make up for that.

He had taken his car keys out of his pocket; she heard them rattle. She waited until they got closer. Then, at the last second, she ran to overtake him. It took a little shoving, but she got herself between him and the car door.

"Excuse me," she announced, "but there is no headache."

It took him a moment to understand, the time it took for their exhaled breaths to combine in one cloud of vapor. Then he closed the gap.

***

"You're freezing," Lucy said when he came back.

"Yeah, I..." David looked around, but didn't find whatever he hoped to see. "Felt a bit hot, you know, so I stood outside."

"I thought you might be coming down with something."

"Umm," he said, and sighed.

Elly, still in her pink halo and wings, came galloping down the aisle.

"I am the avenging angel!" she cried, and when she reached them she grabbed her father round his knees. She looked up at him and roared.

"What's this?" he asked. "Avenging?"

"The older boys," Lucy said. "I think they teach her all kinds of silly stuff."

## CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The next morning, Lucy woke first She went down to the kitchen, paused at the door. That's where the phone stood on a counter alongside her diary. She tore out yesterday's page, pressed it prayerfully between her palms and stood looking out the window over the sink.

Saturday, December 18th. It could be New Year now, as far as she was concerned. It felt as though a line had been drawn across the past, so that none of it could trouble her in future. And it might, just might, be the start of another...but she'd have to wait before she could know that for sure. Was she stupid to be hopeful?

Gentle snow had sugared the garden overnight. She put the paper in her dressing gown pocket and opened the top of the coffee maker. She rinsed and refilled the filter basket, put water in the reservoir, then listened to the sound of the machine burble. There were no other sounds, no television cartoons or little girl voices, because Sophie and Elly had been invited to stay with the Redfords after the concert.

She put four croissants in the oven. She laid a tea tray with plates, knives and a jar of French jam. She fetched napkins from the dining room and made birds of paradise. The coffee cups were warmed under the hot tap and dried before they received a portion of Sumatran Kopi Luwak.

Then she crept upstairs. Just outside their bedroom she stopped to picture David as she left him: his face in the cleavage between pillows, the duvet completely on her side and nothing but a loincloth of flat sheet on his.

But when she leaned forward to peek round the door, he wasn't there. She went in and then she saw him at the back of their closet, phone in one hand and shirt in the other.

"Gone," he said.

"Gone?" she asked.

He waggled the mobile. "She's gone."

"Who?"

"Alyson."

"Gone where?"

"Back to work for your brother." He came out, tossed the phone on the bed. Then he hung his shirt over the closet door and went back inside.

Lucy set the tray on the blanket box. She dragged the mobile across the duvet to read its display. The email was formally worded, "having accepted an offer of employment with Simon Horne Vintages, I submit my immediate resignation as per my contract terms regarding breach of confidentiality." And under the signature, Alyson listed a few personal items she would arrange a courier to collect.

When she looked up David was zipping the fly on his suit trousers.

"Breakfast?" she pointed at the tray. He made a drinking gesture, and she brought him coffee. He took one swallow.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I have to get to the office."

"Why?"

"Security. She's still got keys, remote access to the computers...,"

"Alyson wouldn't do that sort of thing, surely."

He took a second gulp. "If she could do what she's just done," he handed back the cup, "and I had absolutely no idea--" He returned to the closet and brought out a jacket and shoes. "Absolutely no idea."

Once he'd gone, the quiet house became an annoyance. She switched on the television so that cartoon voices kept her company while she did the dishes by hand, needlessly. She cleaned the coffee maker again and put the napkins in the washing machine. She got the step stool to reach the box of gift wrapping things from a shelf in the utility room. Then she had a shower. It wasn't until she was getting dressed that she saw his mobile.

And she shook her head at herself. She ought to have made sure he didn't leave it behind, put it in his shirt pocket or dropped it in his shoes. Instead it lay half hidden by folds of bedding. She picked it up and set it on their chest of drawers. Then she made the bed, and went to the closet to decide what she should be wearing when he returned.

Alyson's face kept coming to mind, breaking her concentration, but she really didn't know what to think about all that.

Eventually she chose a cashmere twinset, moleskin trousers and red shoes. The shoes were a little over the top but she wanted them. The blow dryer created more essential noise. It gave her the idea to play the clock radio, which they hadn't used in years but never got round to discarding. She listened while she straightened her hair, sang along with the carols. She stood at the full length mirror, comparing a gold chain with a garnet choker when the announcer said the time was twelve minutes past eleven. David's mobile rang.

The garnets were too somber. She went to the chest of drawers and laid the stones back in her jewelry box. The phone rang again, and she glanced down to see that Alyson had sent two further emails: her list of items and another message. The subject line was so blunt and vicious it made Lucy cry 'what?' out loud. She tapped the screen to open it.

The radio announcer was reading emails of his own, from listeners describing the worst Christmas presents they'd ever received. His voice, the jingles, the advertisements, even the faint sound of the television downstairs, suddenly disappeared. All Lucy could hear was pounding, as if her heart had moved behind her eye sockets.

***

" **Dear Mnemosyne"**

A Film of Unknown Length

Act 16, Scene 54

INT. Sitting room, Noah's parents' house

Note to set designers: you will need a twenty-four foot ceiling. Paint the walls carmine red, put nothing but glass on the south facing wall and set up a large tree in one corner, trimmed tastefully in white and gold. Put a white rug in the middle of the walnut floor, and a coffee table where NOAH and CHA CHA can spread out the shopping they bought that morning. Arrange around them the following: rolls of wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, scissors, one tape dispenser and Noah's mother's fountain pen that writes in sepia ink. NOAH wears a Wasps rugby jersey. CHA CHA crouches over a stack of Christmas cards on the table, writing continually, determinedly.)

NOAH  
Can't believe you haven't done those already.

CHA CHA  
Done most.

(CHA CHA pauses to close a card, seal its envelope and take another from the stack)

CHA CHA (CONT.)  
I like to save the important ones til last.

NOAH  
Am I one of the important ones?

CHA CHA  
Have you had a card yet?

(NOAH smiles)

NOAH'S DAD  
(off camera)  
Noah?

NOAH  
Yeah?

NOAH'S DAD  
Ready to go?

NOAH  
(sticks the last piece of tape on a gift)  
Almost.

CHA CHA  
Want me to wrap some?

NOAH  
Do mum's?

(CHA CHA nods)

NOAH (CONT.)  
Cool.

NOAH'S DAD  
How almost? I don't want to miss the first ten minutes of the half, like last time.

NOAH  
(Jumps to his feet)  
Just get my coat.  
(to CHA CHA)  
Gotta convert you to Rugby Union.

CHA CHA  
Two hours in the freezing cold--

NOAH'S MUM  
(off camera)  
I've got his hat and gloves.

NOAH'S DAD  
What about a scarf?

NOAH  
Don't need it.  
(Kisses CHA CHA)  
See you about seven.

NOAH runs from the room. Camera stays with CHA CHA as she watches him go. What is the expression on her face? A little guilty, maybe?

Camera move to reveal the view out the windows. We see a large garden made private by a stone wall. Off to the far left, we see NOAH and NOAH'S DAD inside a car that emerges from a garage. Close up on their tire tracks left in the snow, which are immediately filled with fresh flakes. Return to INT. front room of house. CHA CHA still writes her cards. With one she fills not only both sides within but also the back. When she's done, she splits the envelopes into two piles. One stays on the coffee table. The other she tucks into a backpack. She puts on her coat and hat, hoists the backpack over one shoulder. Camera follow her as she goes out the room into the hall.

CHA CHA  
(Calling out)  
Mrs. Jamieson?

NOAH'S MUM  
(off camera)  
Yes?

CHA CHA  
I'm just going to the post box with my cards.

NOAH'S MUM  
(Cheerily)  
All right.

Cut to EXT. scene that could be straight out of a card -- picturesque English village street. Camera follow CHA CHA walking toward the red pillar box. She feeds her cards into the slot. Then she looks around. Instead of going back the way she came, she carries on along the same road until it has passed the last houses and we see only fields on either side. CHA CHA turns, climbs the fence, and heads up the slope at a run. When she reaches the top and the ground levels, we can see ahead a small patch of ground that has no snow. Cha Cha covers her mouth with both gloved hands.

CHA CHA  
Oh my god.  
(A step closer)  
Oh my god, oh my god.

Camera zoom close behind CHA CHA's shoulder. She pulls her mobile out of her coat, and we see what she texts \--.

"My ship still here. Got 2 go – sorry"

And we see her select David's mobile number from her list of contacts and press 'Send'. Then camera pan back so we see CHA CHA drop the phone behind her in the snow. She hitches up her backpack and walks slowly toward the bare patch of ground. Dramatic pause as she stands within touching distance and stretches out her hand, then takes it back, then reaches out again.

Director's Note: If for any reason it's not there, she won't be able to cope. Never mind what's meant to be or not meant to be. The only thing that helped her pretend to be sane over the last weeks is the hope that she still had another chance. Finally, CHA CHA works up the courage to reach out again and make contact with the invisible side of the hull. Final close up will simply fill the frame with blue light.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Long before his eyes opened, Brahm was awake.

He found himself in a place he hadn't used for a while, the Control Room of his mind. During the construction of his ship, there was a set time every day when he liked to review what had been achieved. And because it was pleasing, he always pictured himself facing a bank of screens, and asking them to report.

Now he saw the monitors again and thought, 'where am I?' They replied with quick chirps, and shortly after that replayed the pictures of Cha Cha shaking the wet, white surface of Oxfordshire off her shoes.

Yes, he thought, that was the last thing he remembered. That, and the parting glance from Sesom as the doctor and David had lifted him off the floor. This should have been the end. But his mental Control Room had more. They showed how he was taken back to Medical. They had time lapse images of his body, lying prone and still while the light sequences changed over and over.

Such a long sleep. But what, exactly, had slept? The screens were eager to show him more. Memory had a whole dossier titled 'Sesom'. Brahm agreed to watch, and was enlightened. He never knew the commander had such precise habits. So many things done at exactly the same time, and all recorded as if he might forget. It explained why the Ilaon always seemed preoccupied, and why his lips were always sucked inside his mouth as if he planned to eat them.

Brahm watched as the dossier showed Sesom communicating with gods, sitting in the high backed commander's chair. Memory activated a second screen to display a series of fleeting landscapes, dark intervals and faces which only made sense when the Udoran considered he might be viewing the activity inside Sesom's mind.

His own face appeared for a few seconds. On the dossier stream the commander stood up suddenly and pushed away his chair. Then all the monitors cleared, and instead of pictures they produced text: the results of twenty-five system audits. Every one recorded a fault with light, heat or water. A few looked like errors made by the Ilaons, but most were inexplicable.

Then Memory made an urgent tone, a request to resume. Brahm agreed with a nod and the screens filled with new images. It took him a few seconds to figure out they were in sequence, telling a story. They had entered his room, overpowered Shamana Vavnu and tied her up like she was tied when she came on board. They dragged her down corridors. They altered the configuration of a residence, so she could not get out. And then they left her—the light sequences changed over her many times as well.

All the while, he'd done nothing. He'd been asleep. Expected feelings came in a hot wave that moved under his skin. They kept coming. Brahm felt as if he swelled, blistered with pain and worry and anger. His inner Control Room continued to show pictures. He saw the doctor alone, sometimes weeping. He tried to call her name. As soon as he did this, her room began to have malfunctions, similar to those mentioned in the audits. Lights flared, changed color or went black.

Brahm felt hot – so hot he brought the Control Room of his mind to critical temperature. Paint sizzled on the walls. The monitors made distressed noises, then went blank, then burst into flame. Sirens wailed. The floor melted.

Then his eyes opened. And he found he was actually lying on his back, looking at the ceiling. He heard a sound to his right, turned his head and saw Shamana Vavnu. Her forehead was pressed into the bend of his arm, and she murmured her mysterious words. Feelings like molten metal coursed in his veins, crashed against the tips of his fingers and pounded on his temples. At the same time he recognized that sensation he'd come to know lately, as if he and his body were moving out of alignment, existing in two different ways. When he got up from his bed, he left the body with her.

The whole of Medical responded to his movements. Lights flared when he came out in the corridor, saturating the walls in primary red. As he passed the hygiene stations their walls opened in unison and water gushed out. The waves crashed against him, but that did nothing to bring down his temperature.

He stopped in front of the mehltrom. The compartment opened but he stayed where he was, regarding the floor plans on its interior walls. In the heat haze that radiated from him, the shapes of the rooms peeled off the map. They floated out to meet him, circled his head. His thoughts returned to Sesom for an instant, and the next thing he knew he stood outside the commander's quarters.

***

Omri Date: 8342 (Launch plus 1097) Quarter El, Cycle 25

Plus six degrees (approx.): I heard Tarne grumble "Not again."

I was half in, half out of meditation. I had seen the usual order of things, first Arnor's face and then Brahm's. Only Brahm had changed. His eyes were missing--that is not a good description, and I have had plenty of time to think of a better one. When my brother would fall into trance...if you looked in his eyes you felt yourself on the edge of falling forever.

"Are you all right?" Tarne asked. "May I leave you a while?"

I could not speak, but I could nod.

"The lights have gone mad. Didn't the doctor promise this would stop? I'll send Demos, if I can find him."

I listened to the sound of him walk away. Problems again, even though our witch was freed. Maybe she was still angry. We didn't know because we'd seen no reason to go near her or the corpse.

And I heard a tone from the screens that I knew I should recognize. It takes so much work, sometimes, to bring simple things out of memory. I can recite pointless passages from texts I learned as a boy. I can name plants my father grew in our garden for offerings, in the order they were planted. And yet there is information I command to come forward that takes its time.

And then I remembered – this was the signal for incoming messages. Back on our own ship we thought the first ones were malfunctions, because they came from Arnor, sent by the device he invented to communicate with the vessel from the ground. We'd flown beyond its range, yet the words kept coming. Those signals we grew to hate; most likely I wanted to forget them.

But those sounds were being made now, over and over. It broke my trance. I stayed hidden behind closed eyes to protect myself from the misbehaving lights. The changes were visible, even through a layer of skin. I saw a painful flash of white, followed by red and black. And then I got the impression that something moved. A draught blew across my face, from left to right.

"Tarne?"

No answer, but it happened again. My skin tingled. I lay rigid while the light flicked on and off, on and off, on and off, so fast. Where was Tarne now?

-SESOM-

The voice! The voice!

-SEE-

No. No no, not this, no. I refused to look. The air drifted past again – left to right.

-SEE-

A touch. It snaps my eyes wide open.

"Arnor?" I gasped. But the question was stupid. Brahm stood looking down, and his eyes contained full dark infinity. And all round his head the light raged. A fever of shame started in my face and moved down until my whole body throbbed. Then he turned away, as if he knew I craved relief, needed to be understood.

Out in the corridor, I heard Tarne scream.

***

His heat, so fierce, had turned the floor of the corridor into white liquid. Yet Brahm could walk, if walking was what he was doing. The walls and ceiling sweated, buckled. He heard and understood a new language, the accent of the particles, writhing under pressure and wondering what might happen to them next. But he didn't know, so he couldn't reply.

This was the scene into which Tarne stumbled. As he came out of Sesom's quarters he threw up his hands against the heat, and the floor caught his feet. When he fell his hair stuck in the ooze, but he tore that off his scalp so he could turn and see what kind of monster spoke his name.

Brahm could not make it any easier. All parts of the passage now radiated with rage, and it seemed right for the Ilaons to fear. His anger defied location: at the same time he was with Tarne he was also with Sesom. He inflicted the same terror in the Observation room, where Demos lay curled on the floor, sobbing. Lor-Soven was trapped with it in the feeding station.

He moved to the Control Room. Burning air went ahead and melted the wall before it could open. In his presence all the monitors blacked out, then revived, but they had nothing to display but a reflection. Was this him? He touched one screen where the eyes were. As the eight sides of the room quivered in heat and lost their sharp corners, he nodded in realisation. Him. Always. Every command and malfunction and launch sequence—all his.

He saw something else in the reflection and turned round. The wall that had connected with Sesom's ship turned blue. This time the light did not get too strong for his eyes. He could see through it, right to the other side where two people had begun their journey across.

Cha Cha arrived first. Of course she wasn't prepared; the shock of the heat made her gasp and pull back her feet. Mab tried to turn around. But there was no escape, not even for a person Brahm was relieved to see. They all had to know. The connecting wall spat them on the floor where they groped for a surface that didn't hurt.

Brahm tried again to speak. But all that projected out from him was more emotion, and it went in every direction, right to the furthest corner of the ship and beyond. It made the room even hotter.

He left, went back to the corridor. The rippling force of his fever seared over Tarne and also Sesom, who had crawled out to huddle with his friend for some kind of safety. Heat refilled the space and strained the walls. The lights strobed. Yet it seemed he had achieved what was needed, and now it should be time to stop. He stayed in one place and asked the Control Room in his mind for some adjustment. He touched the monitors there, but in sickening imitation of the past they denied him access.

He tried again. He could sense that everyone nearby was now struggling to stay alive. Cha Cha had been foolish enough to follow him; she was crying and the tears evaporated off her cheeks. The hot anger still rushed back and forth, back and forth, run out of purpose. The whole structure of the ship called to him, from the storage bays to the residences. Everything begged for mercy.

Then far down the passage he saw the mehltrom open.

Shamana Vavnu stood inside. She lifted both arms and held them straight in front of her; a coil of thread dangled from one of her claws. Directly the light fell still, settling on a pale color. And the heat subsided so the floor cooled and she could safely approach. Every step she took shrank his emotions, reduced them to familiar size. When she was face to face, he bowed to her and she kissed him on the forehead. She spoke the language she used for addressing gods, which finally made sense.

While the ship eased back to its true dimensions, the doctor took him by the hand. She slipped the coil of threads onto his wrist and led him back to Medical.

Eventually the others followed. They came to his room, where he now occupied his flesh and blood, whatever that meant. The Ilaons stood in a corner and said nothing. By contrast Cha Cha rushed to him, embraced him, though at that point he was no nearer to knowing how it felt.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The evening of December 24th - and these were the gifts David had received so far:

-An email from Lucy, which did not say where she or his children had gone or when he might see them. If they weren't back by New Year the girls could lose their places at school. He needed to reply, but hadn't worked out a way to start.

-A voice mail from Simon on his office number, left late at night and offering, reluctantly, to play mediator in the marital dispute.

-A Christmas card from Cha Cha, with endless writing that stopped making sense from the opening paragraph. He didn't read more than that; he burnt it. That was just as well, because it wasn't there for police to discover when they came to question him about her second disappearance.

-A call from Cha Cha's boyfriend. Tense, because Noah had found her mobile and read all their texts. David just kept his voice calm until everything had been denied and no more could be said.

-And two visits from a fearsome oriental woman, who started to scream from the moment he opened the front door and carried on a good while after he shut it in her face. She called him 'bad Christian' and said he would go to hell. That was her mildest threat. He described all this to police, but they said not to worry, they were fairly sure who it was and would have a word.

He didn't know whether to like or hate the fact that Christmas Eve had arrived and instead of wishing he didn't have to spend it with family he wasn't. He drew the curtains and kept the lights off to make neighbors think they'd gone away. He yearned to create a good hangover, a temptation held at bay only by fear of what he might say or write if he didn't remain in control. So it was a long night, with the television doing a bad job of distraction. He was still awake at half past one when his mobile went. It was a text, from a number he didn't know.

'Come 2 cottage can talk if u want. Lucy'

He tried to ring back, but the phone was engaged. He went upstairs to get his warmest coat, gloves, and hat. He tried the number again while he searched the kitchen cupboards for food that would travel. It went to an automated messaging service. He liked the gruff note in his voice as he told her he was setting out now; he hoped it gave her the impression he'd been crying. He made a thermos of coffee.

He saved his calculations for the drive. If she'd changed her mobile, this was probably the first step in a particular direction. She might be ready to consider a trial separation, and he could play along with Simon to make that look good. Maybe book a therapist. Then, after six months, when it did end, people would have grown used to them apart. It would seem that they'd both tried their best.

And he would be free. Free - the thought gave him such a buzz he didn't need coffee. The result of this whole bizarre episode, which had started in the Moonlight Tandoori and now arrived at this point, could be to release him from all the sameness of things, give him a fresh start and keep him from dying inside.

He nearly did cry then, from relief.

He reached the cottage before seven on Christmas morning. The snow wasn't bad, but he left his car at the bottom of the hill where the tarmac stopped and went up on foot. Though he walked the whole way in tire tracks, when he got to the top there was no vehicle parked in the drive, and no lights on in any windows.

He unlocked the door and let himself in, stomped snow off his boots and called Lucy's name. There was no answer. The place was warm, but the heating ran on a timer anyway to prevent damp.

He called again, peeked into the doorways leading off, but the bedrooms and lounge were empty. He got out his phone and replied to her text, just said 'I'm here'. Then he went back to the car to fetch his thermos and shoes. He wondered if they could find a hotel or pub that would feed them lunch without a reservation.

It wasn't until he got back, and changed his boots for trainers, that she sent a reply.

'Meet @ bridge'

He swore. It was a nice walk in summer. He tried to remember where they left the flashlight, but when he found it the batteries were dead. He left it on the kitchen table.

Lucy sent a second text, 'OK?

Holding the phone out in front of him, he said, "getting impatient because it's cold?" But he typed 'coming' and put his boots back on.

He went out the back way. Their little garden lay white and desolate, dead flower heads poking through the snow. No feet had been across there before his own, though the public path on the other side of the gate had seen some traffic. He walked fast along that track, in parallel with the frozen river. The sky had just enough light. Everything was shadowy but distinct. The only noise was the sound of his feet.

Once he slipped. Luckily there was a tree to grab which stopped him sliding down the sloped bank. He clung to it a moment, got his breath back, and tested the ground for a place with better traction. He was facing the water. In his eye line was a spot on the other side where the trees huddled round like a windbreak. Lucy always liked to have picnics there. It was also the place he'd asked Sesom to land the ship and let him out. In the absence of any other thought, in the absence of Cha Cha, he almost let himself wonder if it was still...

But that was as close as it got. He picked himself up, checked his hands for scratches and carried on. The bridge came in sight but he couldn't spot anyone waiting. He tried to see if anyone stood in the trees. He dialed the mobile number, but her phone was switched off.

"Lucy?" he shouted. His voice seemed to freeze before it could carry. He waited until he'd climbed the slope up to the bridgehead. Then he checked the road—tracks in the snow showed that one car had driven by. He went across, though he wasn't pleased to be retracing the steps he'd taken a month ago. If there was a divorce, he would let her keep the cottage.

"Lucy?" he called again, but she wasn't on the other side either. He stood on the verge of the road and glared in the direction of their picnic spot. Dawn, the overcast version of it, was carefully changing the colors of landscape, working with a palette of blues and greys. Tree trunks were charcoal, dead leaves smoky, and the snow muted slate, gunmetal, mauve. And there was bright turquoise—just a smudge where drifts had piled up, as if they'd blown against a wall. An invisible wall. David clenched his fists.

"Lucy!" he panicked. He spun round, desperate, hoping like hell that she hadn't gone anywhere near—

And then he stopped. On the other side of the bridge three men had appeared. They stood shoulder to shoulder, wore hunting clothes and balaclavas. The one in the middle carried a rifle.

"Let's keep it quiet now," the middle one said.

***

From the Observation Room, Shamana Vavnu watched them capture David. They tied his hands behind his back and blindfolded him. Then they led him off the bridge. They went further along the path that followed the bank, where there were more trees. They put their six hands on David's back and forced him down on his hands and knees. They made him crawl through frozen grass to the river's edge. One of them carried a tool that broke the ice.

It made her remember and shiver. Once they had an opening, David's face was thrust into the river. He fought, but he wasn't good at fighting. They eventually drowned him in less water than it took to fill a basin. She saw him go limp. Then they removed the ties, uncovered his eyes and pushed the body under the ice. They concealed the hole with fallen leaves and branches.

She shut her eyes to recite his prayers. She'd seen enough. When she opened them again, the murderers had gone. Fresh snow was falling.

"You would have let Cha Cha see this?" she asked Brahm.

"I didn't know," he said. He lay on his moveable bed, on his side. "I knew that we should be here, and that we would see David come here. I was not shown...this."

"I'm glad I kept her away."

She watched the Udoran's eyes flicker between their normal appearance and the new one. He was asking for more. She waited.

"Nothing," he said at last.

"I'm not surprised," she replied. "He's dead. There is nothing more."

Then his eyes turned dark and stayed dark. While he was possessed, she fussed over him: rearranged his covers where they'd slipped off his back, massaged his neck so it wouldn't be sore. He would have to learn to relax. He came back to himself gasping, as if he'd also been held under water.

"We must return to Medical," he said between breaths. Shamana Vavnu did not ask why. She turned his bed and steered it into the mehltrom.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

When they entered Brahm's room, it waited for them. It looked like so much light boiling on the floor, but light contained, moving within boundaries and turning to reveal various facets. It occupied the place where the Udoran usually slept. Vavnu parked his bed to one side, and lowered it slightly so they both could watch.

From this close she could see there was more to it. The light was a product of innumerable lights that moved with the telepathy that guided schools of fish or flocks of birds. Each time they surged, she caught a glimpse of their intent, the idea they wished to present: five extensions from the center. They did it several times before the doctor guessed they were forming a body.

Gradually they settled on detail. And it was almost as real as flesh, yet the light never quite settled. The presentation would sheen, ripple, reveal a chink of shadow or a reflection. Vavnu could imagine how easily the pieces might choose to be something else. But for now they were David. She reached out carefully and tried to touch his face.

Her fingers passed straight through; she snatched back that hand and held it tight. Any Kroxi shamana would have been thrilled by one miracle, the transcendence of Brahm. Yet here she was, witnessing a second. She looked to the Udoran for confirmation, but he was in an unsettled state, not quite himself and not quite...

"What is he?" Brahm managed to ask.

She was about to say when she noticed David open his eyes, or give the appearance of it. He turned his head in the direction of the question.

"What are you?" was his reply

"None of this is simple to explain," Vavnu interjected.

Then David looked at her. His features were dancing. "I'm on the ship?" he asked.

She nodded. And she wondered what he thought of himself, as he lay there. Perhaps he was remembering how he died; he should be able to do that. But it would be an odd memory, or so she'd been taught.

"How do you feel?" she wanted to know.

"I don't," he said, after a pause. "Should I?"

"Try to move."

It wasn't like moving, he told her. It was like virtual reality, whatever that was. He sat up, mentioned the lack of sensation again. "Weird," he said. In response to the activity, his particles became more restless, and his legs dissolved a moment, returned only in patches. He observed the phenomenon himself.

"Maybe you should start explaining," he said.

"Let's get the others first."

Everyone respected her now. She sent a message to the Control Room and the Ilaons came. And they didn't presume they could just enter the room; they stopped outside and waited for permission. All of them could hear Cha Cha run down the corridor, and she bounded inside carelessly, until she came face to face with David.

Then she screamed.

"That bad?" David remarked. But he was standing now, giving full expression to his new existence. There was no consistent quality; every inch of him came and went and then came back again, but in a slightly different way. He was present only in the barest sense of the word. Sesom and his men, she noted, were terrified all over again.

She raised Brahm's pallet to its normal height, fixed it to the wall and helped him sit up. Then she turned and stood between them, the two marvels.

"What I'm going to say," she began, "some of you might already know. But I can't presume. My people have a long history of trying to understand the stranger things that are seen and heard, in our world and in others. Whatever we witnessed, even if we could not explain it, we wrote down or memorized. And if it seemed there were actions to be taken, we picked out certain children from certain families and trained them so that they would always be ready to carry out those duties. I am one of those children."

David took a step forward. It was too much for Cha Cha; she hurried away to the other side of the pallet, where she could hold Brahm's hand.

"Most of our experiences were rare. A few were so rare that I have not met anyone alive who has witnessed them, or anyone who could remember a witness. The stories were simply passed down to me and I had to trust they were true. That was difficult," Vavnu confessed, "and it will explain why I was not happy when I first came here. I thought all the things I'd learned were a waste, and that I would die without being useful."

She filled her lungs with air. There were tears waiting to come out and express her joy, but she could save them. "Now that has changed. The rarest things are happening, have happened. Right here."

Tarne, the bravest of Sesom's crew, raised his hand. "Excuse me," he asked, "but which one of these is Ahm-Lat?"

Vavnu dropped her head. If she didn't, they would see her stifle a laugh.

"We need to speak with him," Tarne explained.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking up. "I can't make this simple. You don't know how many years of study and practice it takes before you can--,"

"Commander Sesom needs to know how to he should proceed. He needs to know what his next orders should be."

From one side of her, she felt the change. Brahm could now impart a different quality to the air in a room. You could breathe it, but it didn't seem entirely safe, as if too much would kill. The doctor turned to see if he was fine but Cha Cha was in control. She let him lean on her.

-SESOM-

The voice -- who knew where it came from? Brahm never moved his lips.

-SESOM DOES NOT COMMAND-

"Thank God for that," David said.

-DAVID DOES-

"What?" The edges of David's face turned effervescent. "This is really some dream."

"You are not dreaming," the doctor told him.

"I am. I have to be. I'm dying."

"If it helps," she added, "the term I was taught is volax. You are volax."

"Which means?" David asked.

"You are dead."

"Yes..."

"But you are not finished."

He seemed to consider this. "Am I a ghost, then?"

"Ghost?" Vavnu wondered if this word was related to virtual reality. She shook her head.

"Am I a soul--," he saw her frown, and so he tried, "spirit?"

She frowned again. "I don't understand any of those terms."

"Am I a consciousness that can't move on to the next place I'm supposed to be?"

"This is the next place."

"Right...so...what should I do?"

"Command this ship."

"Why?"

"Because Brahm says so."

"Seriously? Because Brahm is...?"

"Brahm is also something else."

"And the technical term?"

"There are at least ten—that I know of," Vavnu said.

"Ten different words for the same--,"

"Ten different things he can be. At least."

It was good to survey the room after that exchange, and see everyone wearing an expression that was better, healthier. That had listened, tried to make sense of her words, and failed. Now all they could do was stand with open mouths and nothing to say.

"Good," Vavnu said. "This is good. Of course, I'm happy to teach you what I know, if you are willing to learn."

No one replied, so she considered the explanation over. Brahm had closed his eyes so she went over to him, pinched the back of his neck to ease the tension and asked Cha Cha to take his feet and help him lie down. They arranged several covers over him, cowled one round his face. And on his forehead Vavnu placed the colored bracelet. Cha Cha recognized it, pointed, and smiled.

David came alongside to watch them work. He didn't look perplexed or worried, though it was also true that he couldn't easily make or hold expressions. Perhaps he'd have to learn. Vavnu wished she could say more to help him, but volax had never been easy to study.

"Well," he said at last, when they were done, "If I am going to command this ship, I'll have to know what everyone needs."

The doctor replied. "Brahm needs me to stay with him all the time."

"All the time? When do you sleep?"

She shrugged. "Now and then."

"Can't anyone help?"

"They could," Vavnu winked at Cha Cha, "if they had training."

And then David turned to Sesom.

***

Then he turned to me, this man who was not a man, yet not a god. This creature of light crossed the room and he asked me, what did I need?

-END OF PART ONE-

## CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Old Her-Bi's house is gigantic. Bigger than I remembered, but then everything looks larger when you spend so much time underground. And it's so vulnerable, out here in the middle of so much open ground. I remember the time when members could visit, once a year. We would leave the tunnels and walk down the mountain together. Adults gathered at the shrine with its torch, right here.

The rest of us, the children, we would wander the grounds hoping to find artifacts, some segment of the factory wall or (my personal wish) a discarded piece of the sacred ship. I used to imagine how Her-Bi would admire me, how the Bormu would look up to me, if I could show them I'd discovered an object like that.

But I wasn't a believer then, not truly. Sesom was a dream person. I imagined him bringing me gifts, touching me, wanting to help me with everything I did, like my father.

But I've changed. And besides, I always felt there was something wrong with this house. When we lived in Usalm, before father died, buildings had smooth, simple façades. That's very Ilaon. Whereas Her-Bi liked these outer walls because they were overlaid with wood, and the surface carved with nooks and crooks and roaring, fantastic faces. We used to find bats nesting in them. I can see one now.

All the faces have open mouths. That's good, because I've come to feed them.

I want you to hear these words, you faces, the words of Ahm-Lat. These are good, strong words; they aren't allegories or metaphors and you don't need to question whether or not they are true. They are history.

And I, Hasi, have memorized and will recite every line written on these pieces of skin that I shove behind your teeth.

THE TRUTH

1. When the city of Usalm was ruled by the dynasty of Gylot, a lie was passed among the people that Ilaons had poisoned the river. This was when the children were dying.

2. Sesom's father was counselor to the king, and he asked Gylot to make a proclamation of innocence, to have it printed on renskin --  
(just like these ones I've made)  
\-- and taken house to house.

3. At first it seemed the king would do this. Ren were killed to provide the skin, hundreds of them. Ink was made. Every man with a license to read and write was summoned, and the proclamations were made.

4. But when Sesom's father read the words, he saw that Gylot had made it a proclamation of guilt. So he called together the most powerful Ilaons in the city, as well as those living beyond the mountains and on the gulf coast.

5. They came with gifts for the treasury of Gylot, but the king would not see them. He sent out a second proclamation, to accuse the Ilaons of creating an army to tear down the city walls and burn all the citizens in their houses.

6. All the people who lived in Usalm now hated the Ilaons. Whenever they saw them in the streets, they attacked them. They set their houses on fire. Sesom's house was burned. Sesom's father pleaded with the king, but he was put in prison and given nothing but poisoned water to drink until he died.

7. Now Sesom was only a young man, but he was an officer in Gylot's army and brave. He took the family of Tarne and the family of Mab and escaped with them by night. They walked all the way up the mountain road: at times they had to hide in holes in the ground because they were followed. They had to kill hibernating bears and drive bats out of the caves to give themselves better places to hide.

8. After six days they met Arnor at the factory. Arnor showed them safe places in the mountain forest, mining tunnels that the factory no longer used. Sesom returned to Usalm again and again to rescue more people. He did this for two years until the safe place was full

9. Then Arnor asked the people to dig deeper into the mountain, but they refused. They were tired of living in holes. A group of men were chosen as representatives, and they met with Arnor to tell him they would rather fight for their lives than hide like cowards.

10. But when Arnor told Sesom what the people wanted, Sesom knew it would fail because Gylot had armed himself mightily. He had called together all the wandering people, the fierce people who herded goats, as well as forces from the Five Allies. They were a great army.

11. So Sesom called for the men who met his brother, and he took them down the mountain. There they saw the armies of Gylot camped round the city walls. They saw how powerful their enemies had become.

12. None of them but Sesom escaped with his life.

13. While Sesom was away, Arnor pleaded with Ahm-Lat. He put himself outside in the full heat of the sun and cried out on behalf of the people, beating his hands against the earth. And when he had done this for a cycle the effort had exhausted him, and he lay on the ground waiting to die.

14. At that point, Ahm-Lat gave him wisdom ahead of his time. Arnor looked up and saw a vessel in the sky, bigger than any ship that sailed in the gulf or on the sea. And Ahm-Lat said to him, 'You will build this ship and take people to sail among the stars.'

15. Seventy times more Ahm-Lat spoke, and gave Arnor instructions to build the ship. And Arnor chose Ilaons to help him. They fashioned the living places and storage bays and the control room which had eight sides to represent the families who did this work.

16. But when Sesom returned and saw the ship, he thought the people had gone mad. He found one of the families doing work that day and he asked them, "What kind of thing is this? What could be more foolish than a ship built at the top of a mountain?" And they told him that his brother had commanded them to do the work.

17. Then Sesom sought out his brother Arnor, intending to kill him. He found him in the open air, lying on the ground the way he did whenever Ahm-Lat spoke to him. And Sesom would have killed him there, except that Arnor turned his face up to his brother and Sesom saw the presence of Ahm-Lat in his eyes.

18. And Sesom was afraid. Only when the presence departed, and his brother could tell him all that had happened, then he understood.

19. When the ship was finished, and all the people ready to leave, Sesom commanded them to come on board. But Arnor would not go with them. Arnor wanted to build another ship, exactly like the first, to take aliens and others who were not Ilaons.

20. And it was then that the word of Ahm-Lat came to Sesom, and he was convinced that the armies of Gylot knew about the safe place, and would march up the mountain to attack. And he got in the ship, along with all the Ilaons, and left his brother behind.

21. After he left, Arnor had these words carved onto pieces of stone, which were to stand at the gates of the factory to shame the armies of Gylot when they came. He said that Sesom had gone away but he would one day return to this world, Omri, and to the city of Usalm. And the sign of his coming would be fire burning in the mountains and in Usalm, and war, and the triumph of Ilaons.

Have you listened to all that, you faces? This is the story of the faithful, those who were chosen by Ahm-Lat to escape death. And of all the people who live on Omri today, no one respects these words anymore. No one thinks they are anything but fantasy, not even Ilaons descended from those who survived the persecution. Only the Bormu have believed, but the saddest thing of all is that the Bormu are changing. All because of you, Her-Bi.

I certainly hope you've been listening, old man. Even though the torch flame flickers in my eyes, I can see your shutters are closed. You're probably asleep on an immense mattress in an immense bed paid for by people who believed you were the preserver of The Truth.

We used to say you were a descendant of Sesom. It wasn't a Bormu teaching, since there is nothing written down to say Sesom had a wife. But everyone believed it, so it seemed right that you lived here instead of with us. It seem right that you wait here for your great ancestor to return.

I get so angry that I could not see what was really happening. You wouldn't live in the tunnels because you hated it. You were drawn to a different world, to the city of Usalm, to the paved square and the government buildings and lunches with the prelate Nahl-Ot. You were drawn to the exotic, the foreign, like the carved wooden faces on this house that are, in fact, the gods of Gylot.

And some of the Bormu have tried to change my mind. They say "the faces don't mean anything now. It's just a very old house, and it's on the site of Arnor's factory. If Her-Bi buys it and keeps it in good repair, that isn't a bad thing." Well, I disagree. If Her-Bi wanted to honor the memory of Arnor, he would have knocked down this house and replaced it with a clean-sided building, one as white as Sesom's ship.

But he didn't. And I believe all the demon faces embedded in this house have worked on him. He is down in the city as often as he can visit. He has friends who hate the Bormu. And so, by the time I become a man and my faith is established, his has died. No one will forget the day he came to address us in the forum, the day he held up a copy of these words I've just recited and told us the time had come for change.

Change?! I couldn't believe what I heard. He wanted us to become like everyone else. He wanted us to come out of hiding, come with him to the city and live like everyone else, everyone who thinks the story of Sesom can be laughed away.

The shock killed my mother. I'm just as sure it will do evil to all of us. The Bormu are no longer one people. Some say they will follow Her-Bi. Some say they will stay underground, though they don't know what they will do. Some just shrug and say, 'oh well', as if it were nothing. But it can't be like that. We have given up everything.

Her-Bi, there are some of your followers who leave the tunnels, but only to meet in the forest so your spies won't overhear them. We know, even if you don't, that this moment is critical, prophetic. The Bormu have never been without a strong leader. We discuss our options, pray for guidance.

I should be with them now, but they are not ready for my ideas yet, not all of them. Maybe Sesom is still a dream character they have carried over from childhood. But I know him as a soldier, a man who could take brave action on his own, whether or not anyone else understood.

And so I lift this torch. Her-Bi, when you built this shrine, did you know you had set up the instrument Ahm-Lat would use against you? Every one of the gaping faces round this house will kiss this sacred flame, because I know it's time. Others might be unsure, might advise caution, but I know the day has come for Sesom to return, and for his enemies to taste the fire that Arnor foretold.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The conference, the conference, the conference...

Nahl-Ot surrendered to his unquiet brain and sat up in bed, and right away he was distracted from the worries that kept him from sleep. A bat had flown into his room.

The prelate of Usalm didn't mind – they often came if he left the shutter open. The creature clung to the edge of the window with four tiny feet, its scaly head twisted so it viewed him upside down. Nahl-Ot got up and fetched his bowl of water. A lot of people were frightened by bats, but they were thinking of the large varieties, a few of which were venomous. Little ones were safe, and he liked their pretty colors.

The prelate came to the window, holding out the water. The bat leaned forward and flared its nostrils. While it worked up enough trust to stretch out a wing and grasp the rim of the bowl, Nahl-Ot looked out over his city. Usalm was quiet, but he wasn't the only one awake. Several houses had light showing, which showed just how many people were hard at work to make everything for the occasion perfect.

Perfect because they knew, just as he did, that Usalm was judged by different rules. It was not the largest city in the empire of Wes, or the richest. It had a wealth of intangibles: history going back as far as history could go, a culture spread by accident across the planet and to other worlds.

This inspired both love and envy. The Emperor himself once called Usalm "the place everyone clipped to their heart". And oddly, this seemed to matter as much to the empire as the regions that grew the most food or had the best mines.

The bat enjoyed a long drink. An idea occurred to the prelate, albeit a disrespectful one, but if the Emperor would visit more and stay longer, he might see how the city with Ilaon habits was actually a richer mixture. He'd see it was a modern, complicated place, not the simple setting for some ancient myths.

Or maybe he wouldn't. Some rulers loved the old tribal contest,because they still needed to prove which people were innately superior. They were jealous of places where that game had been played to exhaustion.

A vapor trail dribbled across the clear sky overhead. That meant another security patrol had returned. As the bat groomed itself, Nahl-Ot caught a smell on the breeze that turned into a flavor, a taste in the back of his mouth.

Then his son marched in. The prelate nearly dropped the water.

"I've sent for Brosomis," Shilane said, "and she's bringing the Prince." And then, just as unannounced, he grabbed the bowl from his father and threw it out the window.

"Eh!?" Nahl-Ot protested.

"Didn't you see? The dirty beast--,"

"I was letting it drink."

Shilane grimaced. "The same bowl! I need to talk before they arrive."

"Arriving where?"

"They are coming to your reception room," Shilane pointed at the door he'd entered.

"Why?"

"To discuss the fire."

Fire. Nahl-Ot swallowed, and tasted his saliva again. "Where?" he asked.

"Her-Bi's house."

Nahl-Ot went to the window and leaned out. "No...,"

"Patrols have been and come back. I sent them."

"Why did you--,"

"It would have taken too long to ask Brosomis."

The prelate took a deep breath, exhaled and wandered back to his bed. He sat down. Shilane came to sit beside him. "What do we do about my bride?"

"Your...was she in the house?"

"You know she wasn't."

"Is Her-Bi safe?"

"Father, listen. Safe or not, I have a problem." But time had run out. They both heard familiar voices drifting through the door, arriving in the reception room. Shilane helped Nahl-Ot put on a robe, and they came out to greet the head of Security and Musgyl the Prince.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," the prelate said. He made a show of offering them seats around his table. "I've only been awake a while. What do we know?"

Brosomis' grey hair was messy. If she was angry that his son had taken charge of her patrols, she kept it to herself. "The fire was no accident," she said. "There are footprints round the house. The torch is missing from the shrine."

"Prelate, I thought you had the Bormu under control," Musgyl growled.

"I am baffled by this," Nahl-Ot replied, sitting himself. But he stopped his son from joining them. "Shilane, would you ask the kitchen to bring a little food?" The young man glared, but had to obey for the sake of appearances. Once he'd gone, the prelate smiled at his chief of security across the table, and she smiled back.

"We don't know," Brosomis stressed, "that the arsonist is Bormu."

The Prince sniffed. "Who else? I gave you a deadline, Nahl-Ot. It passed months ago."

"And yet we were so close," the prelate said. "You met Her-Bi at the engagement ceremony. I thought he made a good impression."

"He did. But surely he's dead now."

"Well," the security chief said, "we--,"

"Assume he's dead. Had he named a successor?"

"No," Nahl-Ot admitted.

"And how many people," Musgyl asked, "might think they are entitled to lead the cult? What about his daughter?"

The prelate felt a little pain as he breathed. Lady Ahma was so, so sweet. Quite apart from the politics of marrying her to his son, he looked forward to having her in the palace. "That would be the furthest thing from her mind," he said.

"The furthest thing from her ability."

"With support," Nahl-Ot suggested, "she might."

"Not good enough," the Prince said. "While the Bormu hide in the mountains, waiting for their beloved Sesom to return and take them away, they give this region a bad name. They give Ilaons a bad name."

"I know you don't like me to disagree, but I've never thought it was that bad."

"As far as the Emperor is concerned, it's that bad."

The mention of their colonial ruler made them all silent. Thank goodness Shilane returned.

"What will we be eating?" his father asked.

"Don't know," the son replied. "I woke my secretary and sent him down."

"I'm not hungry," the Prince said. "Now, if we haven't domesticated the Bormu, we must be sure they don't start a war among themselves. Not during the conference. How can I make a case for our trade alliances? It's hard enough, now that the Emperor has been approached by the Ha."

"It's no coincidence we deal with other Ilaons," the prelate said, "but that doesn't make it sinister."

"The Bormu are his measure of Ilaons. If they get noticed, you know what he'll say."

"The cult has had leadership contests in the past," Brosomis said. "It caused some fighting, small clashes, in the mountains. But we can police that now. It wouldn't disturb the conference."

"And the wedding will help," the prelate added. "Everyone loves a wedding." Very suddenly, Shilane shifted in his chair, made a horrible scrape with furniture against floor. So rude, but the others ignored him.

Then two kitchen boys entered with an urn of cold soup, pickled fern heads and flat cake. For a moment there was no talking, only enjoyment of the careful way bowls and tongs and pots of salt were laid on the table, how evenly cake was sliced.

It was so civilized. Everyone would want to live like this, Nahl-Ot thought, if they had the choice. The Bormu were not savages; they only needed to be given choices. If Her-Bi was dead it might delay the process, but only delay. The prelate was determined, had always been determined, to return the Ilaon religion to its beginnings. It hadn't always belonged to a tiny group of fanatics who lived underground. It used to be in the open, in the city square with elegant rituals and well-spoken priests and splendid occasions for ceremonies and banquets. Nobody was so vulgar as to believe in anything.

As soup was being served, Shilane's secretary came in the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, prelate, but you have an urgent message from the Emperor."

"Now?" both prelate and prince reacted together. The secretary nodded. Nahl-Ot and Musgyl excused themselves, and followed the servant down to the working rooms of city government. They were shown the dispatch on screen and could not believe it. Why the Emperor would order such a thing, they could not understand, unless he knew what they had only just learned. And that wasn't possible.

They dismissed the secretary and went back upstairs. The prelate could hear Brosomis' voice as they approached. She didn't sound pleased, but by the time they got to the table the chief of security had stopped talking and simply glared at Shilane. Maybe she had reminded him that he had no title, therefore no authority and she would take action if he ever presumed to do her job again. Or maybe she just hated the way he ate soup. But she quickly saw how shaken they looked. "What?" she asked.

Nahl-Ot sat down in front of his food. The smell wasn't as good as it had been.

"We are being ordered to destroy the Bormu," Musgyl said.

Brosomis put down the piece of flat cake she held. Except for Shilane, nobody ate. Nahl-Ot noticed that the little bat had forgiven him for being tossed out the window. It was perched on the wall of the reception room.

"Then I will submit my resignation," Brosomis declared.

Nahl-Ot stretched a hand out across the table, but couldn't reach her. "No," he said.

"I may not be Ilaon, but I respect what you have tried to do. And I cannot carry out an order like this. It feels too much like...repeating history."

"Then don't carry it out," the Prince said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Patrol the mountains thoroughly, as you suggested. Prelate, use your contacts. Find a way to warn the Bormu, and keep them in their tunnels. We'll tell the Emperor what he wants to hear."

"What if he finds out we've lied?"

"The leader of our empire is an idiot. He doesn't understand the careful balance we keep, which is why this region has been at peace for the longest time in its history. He doesn't understand that if we were stupid enough to do what he asks, we would be in the middle of a bloodbath when the conference started."

Nahl-Ot sniffed. "Personally, I'm waiting for the Crown Prince to take his place. They say he has his grandfather's sense." That was a problem with hereditary rule, he thought. The best qualities often skipped a generation.

They agreed to meet again in the morning. Brosomis excused herself, and Nahl-Ot asked Shilane to wait outside while he and the Prince had a private word.

"I was afraid you would come down on the Emperor's side," the prelate confessed. When Musgyl only shook his head, he added, "You hate the Bormu."

"I hate how they invent history, how they glorify Sesom. No one, given his situation, could have been so perfect. We know the decisions you have to make when you have power. I was hoping Her-Bi would convince them to bring their hero down to the size of an ordinary man."

"That would only happen if Sesom did return."

The Prince laughed at the joke. He took a piece of flat cake and left Nahl-Ot alone with the bat. It had crawled along the wall to get closer to the table; the prelate shooed it into his bedroom. He came back for something to feed it, and almost collided with Shilane.

"May we talk now?" his son asked.

"Can't it wait?"

"It's about the wedding."

"No," the father put up his hands, "I'll see you at breakfast, and that will be soon enough." He broke off a little cake from the slice he hadn't finished.

Then Shilane said something so shocking the prelate picked up a bowl of soup and threw it at him.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

It rained. When the last mourners had picked their way over wet grass from the church to the graveside, David asked Brahm to adjust the lens. And though the ship was miles away, the view was like being in the midst of them, floating above his former, casketed body. The coffin was covered in flowers.

Elspeth was in Lucy's arms, her toddler gaze lurching from sky to grave and around at the many strangers. She was too young. After a few minutes of nothing but bleak weather and sad eyes, her face screwed up. She cried and Sophie reacted by grabbing her mother's leg. Susan Redford bent down to pry the little fingers free. Then she stood, said something to another woman nearby who lifted Elly. Both girls were taken away.

His wife—his widow—hardly noticed. Lucy moved like a toy on the last of its battery, didn't finish her gestures and when she spoke her lips barely moved. She stared at the flowers.

It was Alyson who surprised him. Simon did not embrace her so much as keep her from collapsing. Her shoulders heaved as she cried on his shoulder. She wore no make-up; her hair had been yanked to the back of her head. Simon's expression, not surprisingly, was stone. He played the part he did best, that pillar of strength to see through what had to be done, protect the weak and weary, forever and ever, amen.

-DAVID-

That voice. You didn't have to look at the Udoran to know whether he was himself or not. You could hear.

-ENOUGH-

"Yeah, no problem," David replied, because it wasn't. Apart from the fact he recognized the participants, it could have been any event. It could have happened centuries ago. Shamana Vavnu told him this was how it would be. He would have memory, even remember what emotions were, but without a brain he could not feel.

Meanwhile, the lens pulled back at a dignified pace, drawing him away. The church grew small, followed by the village, then the county and all of England's greenness. Eventually Earth itself was no more than a cloud rippled jewel shrinking back from a growing volume of blackness.

He turned to face the others. The high backed chair from the commander's quarters belonged to Brahm now. He slumped in it, and Shamana Vavnu stood behind so she could hold up his head. Cha Cha was wiping her wet face with both sleeves of her jacket.

"Look at you," David said, "you're a mess."

"I can't help it," she wailed.

"Are you sure you've done the right thing?"

"I don't know," she sniffed, "how could I? Why does everyone expect me to know?"

"Are you even curious," Vavnu asked him, "about who killed you?"

The funeral faces came to mind again, one at a time. "It's just...," he fished for the words, "Not really. It's there but small. So small."

The doctor nodded. "I wish I could help you more."

"I will get interested in something, won't I?"

"Well...," she began, "you must. One thing I do know -- volax are very active. Always coming and going."

"Speaking of which," David turned back to the lens. He stared into the Observation Room of the other ship, still joined to them like a Siamese twin. "I thought Sesom might be here by now."

***

Mab saw the look. All looks made him nervous now. He had never thrived on tension or danger or the use of power. A steady, simple life – he would have liked that. Good ground under his feet to grow vegetables. But history was unfair; it didn't always breed the kind of men it would need for difficult times, or save the quiet ones for later.

He couldn't admit how much he missed having their ship to himself. There had been no squabbles or problems, and nothing like the malfunctions on Brahm's vessel. There were just enough tasks in a day to make him feel he'd earned his leisure.

He spent his free time in the Observation Room, watching the inhabitants of Oxfordshire. They were short, wore dull clothes and had no effective way to travel over frozen ground. Nevertheless they interested him. He wondered if their dwellings were comfortable. After a long time passed and Brahm's ship did not return, he had to consider the possibility that it never would. And then he began to wonder how difficult it might be for an Ilaon to join these people and live among them.

If he'd done that, he'd have to wake the rest of the evacuees. He couldn't just leave them. They deserved the same choice, though who knew how they might react. Ramis, who should have been related to him by marriage, she'd be the most vocal. She'd probably say, "Why didn't we do this before? Sesom knew us. He knew that all we wanted was a place to settle – why was he so stubborn?"

Then the female Cha Cha returned, and all that exciting possibility disappeared. That she was a witch he had no doubt, because she launched the ship just by walking past the controls. He was polite but kept his distance. Did she discover his secret while they travelled to Cornwall? He hoped that if she saw or heard anything she would understand the difficulty of his situation, and sympathize.

Then the mehltrom opened, and he pushed his thoughts aside. Sesom and Tarne had finally arrived. Neither seemed pleased as they came alongside him, and regarded the other ship.

"I think the new commander is getting impatient," Mab said.

"I was meditating," Sesom replied. Mab only nodded. He knew better than to ask if the effort had yielded a result.

Tarne spoke with his head down, as if he feared David could lip read. "We've decided to ask the commander to return us to Omri."

"Go home?!" Mab's voice broke on the second word.

"To see what has changed," Sesom added. "If Ilaons live in Usalm, or anywhere else."

"But first we must decide what to do about the others."

Mab felt his cheek twitch, but otherwise he managed himself.

Tarne continued. "We suspect Brahm must know. If he hasn't dreamed about them, then David has told him. David doesn't sleep. He can walk through solid walls. He could cross over and count their bodies any time. For that reason, I say we should wake them. We could do it in stages, to help them adjust."

"But if they know, why not confront us?" Sesom argued. Tarne had no response. "Unless David has his own plans for them."

"Why would he?" Mab asked casually. But he was worried.

"He wouldn't," Tarne sounded sure.

"He might," Sesom warned. "Would you be the one to give them to him?"

"If I gave them, he'd soon see they were no prize. With all their leftover fears and complaints, their problems and quirks--,"

"What do you think?" Sesom interrupted, and touched Mab's arm. It seemed he was meant to decide between them. He thought it couldn't hurt to take time and appear to consider the arguments, because he wasn't sure what they knew, and whether they were testing him.

"Tarne might be right," he said at last. "But then...,"

"But then?"

Mab folded his arms. "When we get to Omri it might still be dangerous." Sesom shut his eyes. "Or not," Mab corrected himself. "But for that reason it might be better to wait, just a little longer. Then decide."

That didn't seem to please his former commander. He looked less happy now he had a person on his side. "Yes," he said at last. "We could wait. Tarne?"

Tarne reacted as if he just joined the conversation. "Wait? If you like."

"Good, good," Sesom wandered away. He stopped with his back to David's ship, staring out at a section of empty space. "We agree." And then he half turned. For a moment it seemed he would say more, but instead he walked straight into the mehltrom.

After he'd gone Tarne stayed quiet. Mab asked, "Where are your nephews?"

"We didn't include them. Sesom felt they would bias the decision. And I didn't think I'd need them. I thought you..."

Mab braced himself. Tarne had a way. He used to get anything he wanted from his traders, when he oversaw the market in Usalm. And he was most powerful when he was kind.

"It's just that I don't know any man more devoted to his family," Tarne went on. "How do you stand it?"

"Well," Mab answered truthfully, "it isn't easy."

Tarne studied him a while, then added, "I'm only worried about Sesom. He needs to get used to people, get used to dealing with them again. He hasn't said so, but I get the feeling he prefers things as they are."

They watched until they saw Sesom arrive in the other Observation Room, then they left. Mab talked about Oxfordshire as they rode in the mehltrom. There wasn't anything that needed to be done, so it was important that he appear to need company. He joined Tarne and his nephews in the feeding station and there was more talk

Only when rest session began, and Sesom failed to return, did Mab think he might be safe. He excused himself. He told Tarne to send a signal to his quarters if he was needed. Then he went to residential wing, to the twenty-third section of the second corridor and entered his rooms.

Once inside he tiptoed into the sleeping area and sat on a bench facing the three beds. He listened to the silence. He tapped his foot twice. The lights changed a few shades but apart from the noise he made there was nothing.

"It's safe now," he said quietly.

"How safe?" his wife asked, from below the floor.

"Father, please, please may we get out and stretch?"

He nodded, though they couldn't see. "Quickly," he warned.

His daughter rose slowly, shaking out the yards of fabric in her skirt and raising dust.

"Trena," he groaned.

"Don't scold," Bel-Lat pleaded as she stood. "And before you ask, I have tried. She refuses to wear anything else."

"What if someone came to inspect?" He left the bench, went to his wife and pulled her up by the armpits. She stumbled a little, but he held her fast.

"How would they know?" she said. They kissed. "Did Sesom make a record of what everyone wore when they fell asleep?"

Mab put a hand under her clothes, squeezed the skin he touched first. "Who knows? Anyway, I may have good news." But before he could continue their monitor beeped. "Get back in bed," he said, and let her go.

"Why? They're not coming here, surely?" Bel-Lat left him and went to Trena. "Let's straighten your pleats," she said. Mab sighed. He watched her step down into the bed to tidy the billowing skirt of their daughter's wedding gown. It had been such expensive cloth, and though it still had weight and even some shine, there were little holes where the threads had started to rot. The saddest thing of all, that it never served its purpose.

"A few minutes," he said, stepping round them to get to the exit. "Then please go back." His wife promised.

## CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Dear Mnemosyne (may I just call you Nemo?)

Life After the Film

I just can't keep it going. I don't know what it is. I thought it would be great to be back on this ship, although I don't mean in a sci-fi, adventure girl sort of way...

Well okay, maybe I do. I made up a new name for myself. I was all excited about announcing it until we watched the funeral.

The exercises Vavnu makes me do, they help. I repeat words I don't understand until my brain closes down with boredom. I become still. If it weren't for those, I would go crazy. I should be sleeping now. But it's like when you lose your house keys -- you don't say 'oh well' and wait for them to turn up. Some things are too important for waiting.

Nobody on Earth should cry for me, but I know they will. And because they will, I can't just sit around chanting stuff. I need a proper job, a quest, a mission sized mission, enough good to balance out the bad. I don't know where to look, but then you usually find keys in a place you swear you'd never leave keys. So I'm wandering around, hoping.

The tricky thing is avoiding David. He doesn't sleep. With all that free time I realize it must be nice to have company, any company, even mine. Used to be he was just annoying. Now he's scary. If he manages to stay in one piece, he's too perfect. He's an avatar that's stepped out of the screen. And you know what else? When he passes through walls (because he doesn't need to open them first) his face does this—God, I don't know how to describe it. His features break into pieces and the pieces flip over and over. For an instant you're sure you see a dozen other people in his face, and then they're gone. I've never mentioned it to him.

That's why I'm in the storage bays. It doesn't seem like a place you would find a purpose, but David wouldn't expect me to come here. I'm doing him a favor; he'll have to search the entire ship and that will keep him occupied. Plus I'm hoping the noise from the motive drives will stop me hearing Auntie Mai in my head. She's been in top form. "You such a stupid girl. You go off like a firecracker and then you think, 'Huh? Why everybody burnt?"

***

Soren? Soren, it's me. Yes sweetheart, you've been asleep. We all have. Asleep for a thousand years. Yes! And isn't it incredible, because we aren't any older. You, you look exactly the same; your cheeks so plump and I want to kiss you so badly.

But not now -- not now because we can't stay here. You need to be quiet love, and follow me. I've been awake longer, so I know a few things. Don't elevate your bed. Climb out as carefully as you can, and keep your body close to the floor. Be careful not to catch my dress.

We'll be like moving shadows, you and I. Just follow the edges of the room until we reach the exit. There. Now we can stand—slowly. Hold my hand and we'll go through the wall together, that way the light will be quick, and won't wake my parents.

Ah, you've squeezed my fingers! What? Yes, this is like old times, in a way. But no chaperones! Check the corridor in both directions. It's fine--nobody is here.

Only a few of us are awake. Sesom, my family, Tarne and his nephews. Just wait until we pass Lor-Soven's quarters...there. It was Sesom's decision, who was revived. We met another ship. We thought it was Arnor's—father tells me it looks exactly like ours, except Arnor isn't there.

We'll have to risk riding in the mehltrom, but we'll be devious. Watch my trick. You touch the floorplan there--laundry. My dress will fill one of the trucks by itself. We'll hide under it, and have ourselves delivered to the commander's quarters. No, honestly, it's safe. Sesom is on the other ship right now; that's why I had to wake you. This may be our only chance to get back home.

Yes! Yes, I'm going to tell you everything Soren, I promise. It just takes time. The other ship has a commander. He's not Ilaon; we don't know what he is. He's called Da-Vid, awful name. You wouldn't call a child Da-Vid, would you? Anyway, Da-Vid has agreed that our ship may go to Omri, he...

I know, I know. But we don't have the ability to move our ship. We lost that before we fell asleep. You won't remember. The drives stopped working and we sat in empty space. It was terrible. You know how everyone used to fight? Well, that made it even worse.

But since Da-Vid's ship met ours we could move, as long as we went where he wanted. So we have permission to travel to Omri, but our ship won't be landing. Wait! Check the corridor before you...all right...all right. What was I saying? This ship is going to set itself in orbit round the planet, while Da-Vid's ship goes down to the surface.

Turn round a moment; I didn't hear what you said. Umm...well, I have my own ideas. Of course I have to accept what Father says, because he wouldn't lie. Da-Vid's ship, he says, has a pair of powerful witches. It may be that the ship belonged to Arnor but they stole it from him, maybe killed him. And you know how carefully Arnor kept records. That's probably how they found out there was another ship, and came searching for us.

So Father says Sesom keeps most of us asleep and in orbit to protect us. But I wonder. If these witches are so powerful, there's no point trying to fool them. You couldn't say, 'there are only five of us on board', because they would know a lie. They'd have spells that would tell them how many we are, and what we can do. They could probably wake up anyone they wanted, and make that person their slave.

Here now, we made it. You get in the truck first, and I'll get in next. Can you hear me? I can't afford to be louder than a whisper. I'm stepping in now. Umm? Well, maybe, but if the witches are going to make us slaves then I want to be with you. I could stand anything as long as I'm with you.

You see, my theory is they aren't real witches. You know the women who used to come up river with the herders every dry season, and pitched their tents round the city? Yes, like them. They danced, they did pretty theatres, and they sold portions of luck. We called them witches, but people were more frightened by what they thought could happen. And you know Father, he tries to keep away from trouble even if it isn't trouble at all. If Sesom told him there were witches he'd believe it, and do what he was told.

Although he did disobey when he woke mother and me. Are you ready? I've told the monitor where to send the truck. I'm going to dispatch...now.

No, father wasn't supposed to wake anyone. But he couldn't stand it. You know, we were on Da-Vid's world for a while. We came down to the surface in a very white place, and one of the witches left. Then Da-Vid's ship detached and Father was left by himself aboard this one—yes! Alone for days and days and days with no communication, and you can imagine what went through his mind. He thought he'd been left there to die. Exactly—I would have woken you too.

But see, here's another thing. One of the witches has been on our ship, more than once. Doesn't she wonder why five Ilaons need so much space? You see love, I think Sesom keeps us asleep because it suits him. If we were all awake again, then Da-Vid would know the truth. He'd know why there was a spaceship floating in the middle of nowhere, with a commander who says he speaks with Ahm-Lat, but never has anything to say about it.

Oh, the truck shouldn't brake like that! Are you all right? Let me get out first and make sure Sesom isn't here.

And Da-Vid might ask about me, in my wedding dress. He might say, "Why are you still wearing that?" And I'd tell him. In fact, if I had a chance I'd plead. I'd say 'Commander, I just want to go back home. I want a dress spread out like sunshine, eight pleated trains so heavy with crystal there would have to be an attendant to carry each one. And I want to stand on my platform, so everyone can come and admire me.

But what if I never get that chance? What if Sesom keeps us asleep forever? Oh Soren, that's why I've risked this. We deserve our joy.

It's safe. Come here to his monitors. Father said we should only use this in emergencies. I'm accessing the connection sequence. Now, it might work and it might not. There might be someone in the Control Room who will stop it, or someone in the other Control Room when we get to Da-Vid's ship. It's a risk, so you have to choose. If you're afraid of what might happen, we can get back in the truck. I'm the one who touched the screen – they won't know you were ever here....

...and I want to be with you. Always, no matter what. Gather up my pleats and wrap them round me—not that way. Hold them together but keep one out, because you'll need it when we make the crossing. You might have to pull me through.

And there's another reason we should do this. What if, when Sesom has been to Omri himself, and finds everything is peaceful, what if he forgets about us? He might just leave father alone a second time, with a ship full of sleeping innocents, and walk away from his past. But if we manage this--

Look! It's worked! Help me now. If we do get back home, and get married, we will make sure the whole of Omri knows the truth.

***

Dear Nemo,

David's been and gone, like a beautiful zombie. Didn't ask what I was doing. Or maybe he knows; maybe he's got telepathy too. See, if I'd been made extraordinary in some way, I'm sure that would help. You never hear of superheroes who struggle to find their purpose in life.

Now that I'm her student, Vavnu likes to tell me stories about shamans who devoted themselves to their exercises and became famous in their own way. But it's obvious she means years.

***

Oh, Ahm-Lat is so kind! We could never have got this far without his help, could we? And father was right. This Control Room looks exactly the same. Do you think witches sleep? Ah, yes Soren, you might be right. Well, the best we can do is go deep into this ship, choose a good hiding place and see. I never thought I could be this brave.

***

Nemo, if I'm expecting too much, who can blame me? David, Brahm – it's all been crash, bang here's the ability to see the future, here's immortality. Brahm says he almost misses ordinary days. Almost! Well, sure, if you have regular out of body experiences, a little ordinary must make a nice change.

***

We'll run down the corridor to the mehltrom. Keep hold of my dress.

***

See, what bugs me is the thought that maybe when I came back on board I tried to force the future to go the way I wanted. Maybe that's not right. I say that like I know there are laws about—you know—ultimate stuff. Gerald Redford is in my head now. It's not great, but an improvement on Auntie Mai. He's saying, in his best sermon voice, 'remember Mary and Joseph. Just a normal couple who wanted to get married, and then...,'

***

Where, where to go? Choose one of the storage bays, sweetheart, because they have lots of dark corners and gaps between containers. I feel dizzy. You too? I wonder if we could find water?

***

But then I'd say to Mr. Redford that the Bible isn't just full of people like Joseph and Mary. There was also David: I mean the Old Testament king, not our zombie. He was like me, a kid with attitude, who faced down a giant with only a slingshot. What would Auntie Mai say about a stupid move like that? Or what about Jacob, when he decided to wrestle an angel? Ah yeah, see, it's not only the meek who inherit. This is good. I'm starting to feel better.

***

Ah, thank you, love. Check the corridor, yes—now you're the one teaching me. I just think we must be safe now. We were meant to do this and nothing stood in our way. If we just go down here to the last bay and open the wall...then the rest of our life--

***

Footsteps?

\--begins--

What the...? (Might need a bit of film script just here.)

INT. Storage Bay

CHA CHA is face to face with a GIRL, probably her age, whose arms are filled with an enormous heap of cloth. On seeing CHA CHA, the GIRL gasps and drops what she carries. It turns out to be what she's wearing, a yellow dress that fits her body but gets carried away at the hemline, coils and sprawls all over the floor.

GIRL  
Oh Soren, I'm so sorry.

CHA CHA  
Who's Soren?

GIRL  
Please don't hurt him. Hurt me, if you have to. It was my idea to bring him here.

CHA CHA  
Bring who?

GIRL  
Please, we don't mean any harm. We just want to get back to Omri and be married.

(The GIRL turns aside, and appears to talk to a person only she can see. CHA CHA watches. She remembers a school friend like this, who had a thing for the chemistry teacher. She used to keep a dream diary; she wrote imaginary letters to him. Then her parents split up and her dreams and reality got a bit mixed up.)

CHA CHA  
I won't hurt you. It's okay.

GIRL  
Can we stay?

CHA CHA  
(shrugs)  
If you like.

GIRL  
Can you help us? Are you a witch? A good witch?

CHA CHA  
(has to shake head – never known anybody this bonkers)  
I'm not bad.

GIRL  
We want to leave the ship when it lands. But we don't want anyone else to know.

CHA CHA  
(blows out air)  
Right.

GIRL  
Please say you'll help. You look very...magical.

## CHAPTER THIRTY

Mab ran into the Control Room. He nearly collided with David, who didn't flinch but drifted aside to make space.

Sesom grumbled, "Where were you? I was about to go searching."

Mab fit his apology between catches of breath, and held out a bandaged hand.

"In Medical," he panted. "My own,...clumsiness."

No one asked for details. But David found the variety of expressions interesting. Mab was pale and sweaty--more unsettled than a small injury would justify. Tarne exchanged glances with his nephews before he turned away, in imitation of Sesom, and faced the connecting wall. All the time they waited for it to open Sesom's face remained blank, as if he had already gone through, and accidentally left his body behind.

"You'll be all right?" David asked Mab.

It baffled him why the Ilaons wanted to keep one ship in orbit. He presumed the problem was landing space and put it to them that, if anything, their ship should land while Brahm's stayed back. But they insisted, and even now Mab nodded in response to his question. Perhaps he didn't mind the solitude.

"We'll be back as soon as possible," Tarne added, "once we understand the situation."

"Of course," Mab replied.

The wall was glowing, getting close to blinding point. David went through, since he didn't need to wait, and found Brahm alone at the monitors. It reminded him of the first time they met.

"Where's Vavnu?"

"Getting food," Brahm replied.

"Cha Cha?"

"We don't know."

"Saw her in storage," David came and hovered beside him. "But that was ages ago."

Brahm brought up images from storage as well as the corridors and the holds for the motive drives. "She's not happy," he said.

"Umm," was all David could add. Then Vavnu came from the feeding station and Sesom pushed through the connecting wall.

***

Mab managed to think of encouraging things to say. Small, personal things – he reminded them all about the scent of tamish sap. At one time they hated it, being city people forced to live in the mountains. But now, just the thought of that sharp smell drying their sinuses...it felt like a luxury.

So everyone left looking pleased, or if not pleased, at least less displeased. He rubbed his bandage while the screens confirmed they had all crossed over. Then the wall sealed and the two vessels disengaged. He was alone again. The first thing he did was tear off the fake dressing, his alibi, and use that hand to send a signal to his quarters. Three short tones -- he'd agreed with his wife this was how she'd know it was safe to keep looking for Trena.

***

David listened to Lor-Soven and Demos as the ship descended, and the first aerial images with landscape appeared on screen. They were trying to get their bearings. An argument started about a crescent shaped plain that skirted a range of mountains. Two rivers came down from the slopes and ran over the flatland side by side. Then they met and formed a delta, which emptied into a sea.

The argument focused on the northernmost river. It seemed the streambed had changed, and the coast where the river met the gulf had silted up. Demos searched for two cities that should have been near the sea, but he couldn't find them. Lor-Soven was convinced they'd come down in the wrong place. Then Tarne stepped forward to make peace. He pointed to the mountains where the river had its source, and though these were mostly covered in cloud he could trace the stream down from the heights. It took a sharp bend round foothills before turning toward the gulf. And nestled in that bend, Tarne said, should be Usalm, the city of their birth.

Brahm took the ship down into those clouds. It was a formation that came in two layers. When the ship sank through the higher strata they were in bright, clear space and the lower cloud lay like a blanket below, punctured by mountain tops. And they were not alone. David counted twenty-two other flying objects on screen before he stopped trying. They were much smaller and speedier; their function wasn't clear. As Brahm continued to bear northwest, it became obvious that all this traffic concentrated around one summit. The little craft bobbed in and out of the lower cloud and looked like wasps attracted to jam.

When their ship was directly over the swarm, Sesom blurted out, "We can't land."

Demos murmured, "So many..." Tarne stayed quiet.

"So what do you want to do?" David asked.

"Hold," Sesom said. "Stay where we are for a moment."

"But we're so close," Lor-Soven protested.

The former commander turned his back on all of them. "It gives me a bad feeling." That was all he would say. After waiting, Tarne approached him.

"What," he leaned over Sesom's shoulder, "would make it better?"

"Those machines," Sesom asked, "Why are they flying around Mount So?"

Tarne laid a hand on his arm. "We don't know. It's been a thousand years."

"What if they are guarding the mountain?"

"Why would they need to?"

"Brahm," David interrupted, "are we camouflaged?" The Udoran nodded. "Then why don't we get through the cloud somewhere else, somewhere with less activity, and see how the situation looks on the ground?"

Whether they liked that idea or not, no one disagreed. Brahm went beyond the swarm and brought the ship down through the lower level of mist. Underneath they could see the north slope of the mountain Tarne called So, covered in dusty trees. This forest continued over a broad sweep of level ground before rising again with the next peak.

And now it was obvious what the other craft had come to see. Far off, on the other side of So, there was black smoke rising.

"Do you know what that is?" David asked. Still no one spoke. "Did you want to land?"

He saw Sesom glance at Tarne. Tarne shrugged. "We could..." he came back to the screens to study the land. "If we keep our altitude and come round the mountain this way, there may be open ground. I can't guarantee, but if it's still there it will be enough."

"And the place you were hoping to land? Where was that?"

Tarne pointed at the smoke. David gestured to Brahm. "Let's see how we go."

Eventually the screens showed them a long strip of ground, like a terrace cut into the slope, where the forest had been cleared. Hewn wood from the trees had been taken to one end of the space and stacked.

"There," Tarne said.

They made a slow descent, pausing to adjust the approach and set the hold as close as they could to the cut timber. After touch down, Tarne asked them to wait. He stared at the monitor images, particularly the pile of wood.

"Anything...there?" David asked.

"Nothing," Tarne replied at last, and backed away. "I think it's safe."

Brahm shut down motive drives. But David could not see a single Ilaon face that looked pleased.

Sesom was blunt. "Now what?"

Tarne held up a hand. He went over and stood between his nephews. "I think Demos, Lor-Soven and I should go out. We'll get our bearings. And maybe we can learn something about the smoke. Whatever we find, we'll come back and report. Then we can make our next decision."

It was agreed with grunts. There were few words after that, discussion of the best possible route, whether or not to find the river, how long the journey might take. Then the scouting party went down to the hold. The monitors showed them leave: Demos first, and he stooped reverently to touch the ground. Then Lor-Soven, who tipped his head back and filled his lungs. But Tarne assessed the surroundings without admiring them. He stood at the edge of the trees for some time before he beckoned his nephews to follow him down the slope.

After that more silence. Brahm sighed and rubbed his eyes; as soon as he did there was sudden, insistent tapping--Vavnu's claws on the floor. David made a last request, that the Udoran ask the screens to continue recording images. Then he asked Sesom to excuse the three of them, though he didn't expect and didn't get a response.

"Where is Cha Cha?" the doctor wondered as they walked the long corridor.

"I could look for her," David offered.

"Send her to us. She hasn't sat devotions today."

He went with them in the mehltrom. After they got out at Medical, he went on to the Observation Room. That wasn't where he hoped to find Cha Cha, but he wanted a better look at the planet, by himself. The domed lens gave him a view well above the tree line. From there he could identify landmarks Tarne had mentioned: the river and an area south of Mount So where the trees gave way to several miles of scrubby grassland. It was in the middle of this place where a fire burned and created the smoke. There must have been a building to burn; he'd heard talk about a factory but it seemed an unlikely location.

He tried to fathom their reactions. A thousand years ago they had been in danger, so bad they had to flee. Now they had the chance to return, or at least investigate, and a simple decision like where to land had them hardly speaking.

And for the first time since his bizarre new exitence started, David felt something. It reminded him of that itchy, restless urge he used to have for new things. He wanted to know more. What did the fire mean? Who were the Ilaons, and what happened to them in this place?

But first there was his promise to Vavnu. He returned to the mehltrom, rode to the lowest levels of the ship and combed the storage and drive bays. After that he tried the laundry. He even combed the utility conduits, where all the water and ventilation piping snaked. They were too narrow for a normal person to travel facing forward but he was no longer a normal person. The pipes passed through him.

He went to the middle level and walked through the residential units, fitted out like so many hotel rooms hoping for guests. He found no one.

Then, in case Cha Cha had been unusually obedient, he went back to Medical. But he found only Brahm and Vavnu asleep on adjoining pallets, Vavnu's arm across the Udoran's chest so she'd know if he woke. He stood in the doorway and watched them, trying to think where he'd hide if he were an impulsive sixteen-year-old who seemed at loose ends. It was an impossible question.

Out of ideas, he went to the feeding station and checked the little niches where he used to hide. Then he headed for the Control Room. He thought about whether to invite Sesom to join him in the Observation Room. They could operate the lens, zoom in on the fire and surely, inevitably, it would start a conversation. He had to find some way to satisfy his brand new appetite for knowing, because it would be a while before Tarne returned.

But the Control Room was empty. The latest images were spread across four different screens, so he went closer. In the first he saw Sesom in the hold. Next he had gone outside. Below that, and he stood in the exact spot Tarne had been. The last picture captured only his body from the waist down, as he walked out of shot.

David still couldn't read Udoric, or else he would know how recently these had been taken. But the real mystery, which no image could solve, was why the former commander went the direction he did. David took the mehltrom down to the hold and walked straight through its walls onto the planet's surface.

The air held leftover warmth from a brief spell of sun, but that was cooling. The ground was soft, so it was easy to see the footprints of Tarne and his nephews, headed southeast in the direction of the river. Sesom's went the opposite way, straight up the misty slope of Mount So.

He followed those tracks. They went into trees and climbed for maybe a hundred yards. Then they turned into an old stream bed. Sesom must have carried on because the jumble of stones had a few flipped over to show damp undersides.

David moved up the channel. As the ground rose it got narrower, and when it became too cramped and hemmed in by fallen logs, the footprints appeared again on one bank and took a new direction. But they kept going up, to an elevation where the trees were fewer, and rocky outcrops began to show through the soil.

The air, had David needed to breathe it, would have been cold and thin. He could never have attempted this in a body. Yet there was still no sign of Sesom. He must have carried on, up to where the face of the mountain was bald except for boulders and rubble. David searched for crevices that might provide a hiding place. But everything suggested the Ilaon had gone higher still.

David broke a branch off a dead shrub, poked at the rocks and considered. He could keep going. He could cover the whole damn mountain. But if Sesom put himself through this much strain to get away, he wouldn't want to be found. If found, it would only give him another reason to be aloof, and then there would be no chance of knowing. The need to know had become more than the twinge he felt in the Observation Room. It was getting uncomfortable.

To distract himself he rubbed the branch against stone, and the bark flaked easily. What else could be discovered, if he had to wait? He had recently discovered laboratories, built behind the storage bays. The entrance walls were unmarked. Most likely they did not respond to touch, to keep out the unauthorized. But he could take plant samples back and start a project, some sort of project.

And then a robin landed at his feet. No mistake—it was a plump, English redbreast hopping on the spot, cocking its head side to side, pecking the thin soil.

"How the hell," David said.

The robin turned to give him a tail view, popped to another bit of rock before it flew away. All thoughts of Sesom shifted to one side. He watched the little bird zigzag across the darkening sky before it dived and disappeared in the trees. He decided to follow, heading down the mountain the way he'd come.

## CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Dear Nemo,

I'm in David's bed (never thought I'd say that) all thanks to Trena (name of my new friend). I told her I didn't have anything against helping her, but had to explain the whole zombie thing. I stressed how hard it would be to keep anything secret. Then she made this brilliant suggestion – the one place David would never turn up. And instead of walking to the commander's quarters, we came up in a truck from the laundry—well, two trucks, actually. She said there wasn't room for me, her dress AND Soren.

Soren is (was?) her fiancé. Maybe she invented him. Or maybe he stood her up on the day or she had to leave him but whatever it was, it's pushed her a little off the spot. Not a lot. Well, not too much, though she does believe I'm a witch.

She must be my mission. I wasn't sure at first, especially when she told me about all the sleeping people on Sesom's ship. Seriously, there are hundreds and Sesom can wake them up any time. For a minute I thought I ought to tell David or Brahm. But honestly, can't they work that out themselves? Can't I have a little something for me? Trena is probably my age. I don't think she has any friends. There must have been a time when she was young and hopeful and ordinary and then something must have happened to screw up her real world so she couldn't deal with it properly anymore. I think we have a lot in common, apart from the fact she's bonkers.

Did I just say that? Quick reality check: I'm hiding from the only people who could help me if I were in danger. And I intend to walk off this ship in the company of a girl who talks to her imaginary friend. I expect to wander around an alien world, not knowing where I might end up or what might happen. If that isn't crazy enough, I can honestly say I'm not worried. I feel sure that I'll come back safe, brush the dirt off my hands and be pleased with my adventure.

I think that makes Trena the sane one.

TRENA  
Sha Sha, are you ready?

Director's Note: Oh, and she can't pronounce 'CH'. It's cute.

CHA CHA  
Ready.

TRENA  
The ship has landed, and all the Ilaons have gone. We watched them on Da-Vid's screens. But Soren is worried. What if Da-Vid decides to launch now?

CHA CHA  
(pauses to consider)  
He might.

TRENA  
Then we must try and leave. The Control Room is empty - please will you check the corridor?

CHA CHA  
(climbs out of David's bed)  
What if I meet someone? What's our plan?

TRENA  
(to Soren)  
What?  
(seems to listen a moment, then speaks to CHA CHA)  
Could you get permission to go outside? Just for a while?

CHA CHA  
I'll try. Then what?

TRENA  
You...you will say you need to fetch your backpack. That way, you can come back in here, and we will decide.

(CHA CHA nods, gives TRENA her pack and leaves.)

Director's Note: She'll mess around with that bag while I'm gone, you watch. Seriously, it amazes her. She'd never seen zippers, so I showed her how to open and close them and that was like the greatest thing ever. Then she wanted me to show her how to adjust the straps, and she checked all the pockets. I had a few jelly beans rolled up in their packet. She thought they were incredible. She wants to serve them at her wedding.

INT. Control Room. CHA CHA does not find anyone there, but she does notice the pictures left on the screens.

Dear Nemo,

Why did Tarne go one way and Sesom the other? Sesom looks like he's going to his execution.

(CHA CHA returns to INT. David's quarters. TRENA is standing at his set of monitors.

CHA CHA  
There's no one around.

TRENA  
No one? Oh Soren, this is perfect!

CHA CHA  
Perfect? How?

(CHA CHA watches TRENA touch the screens. She certainly seems to know her way around them, though she can't be old enough to be allowed to operate--)

TRENA  
(stops touching)  
Oh. Of course.

CHA CHA  
What?

TRENA  
We don't have security access here.

CHA CHA  
You had security access on the other ship?

TRENA  
(stress on second word)  
For EMERGENCIES.  
(Points at the screen)  
Would you...?

CHA CHA  
What?

TRENA  
Open the mehltrom and the hold.

CHA CHA  
Me? I don't have access either.

TRENA  
(laughs)  
Ah, no! Why would you need it? You're a witch. Father says you launched his ship from Oxfordshire.

Director's Notes: If I were doing the film script properly, I'd stress how this was a pivotal scene. And if I actually knew anything about making films, I'd be adding loads of stuff about camera angles and lighting, because this needs the right set up to create drama. There would have to be at least one close up on my face, as I consider the fact that my adventure, if I'm to have it, will hinge on what happens when I reach out my hand and pretend.)

CHA CHA  
(touches screen. It responds.)  
Oh my god.

TRENA  
Oh Soren, oh Soren!

CHA CHA  
(disbelieving)  
It worked?

TRENA  
(squeezes CHA CHA's hand)  
Thank you! Thank you so much.

CHA CHA  
(still in shock)  
It worked.

TRENA  
(pulling the same hand)  
We need to go.

(TRENA slings CHA CHA's backpack over her shoulder. Together they exit the commander's quarters, walk into the Control Room and straight into the waiting mehltrom. Without rehearsing it, they both turn and slam their backs against the wall of the compartment. The wall closes.)

TRENA  
(turns to look at me)  
Thank you.

CHA CHA  
I don't know if--,

TRENA  
No one else has ever been this kind to us. Ever.

(CHA CHA opens her mouth to say something, but changes her mind.)

TRENA (CONT.)  
The only problem is, we don't know how to repay a witch.

(Mehltrom opens. TRENA and CHA CHA step out to INT. the holding tank. The exit wall is already glowing blue, but not quite ready.)

CHA CHA  
Why do you think I need paying?

TRENA  
(looks over her shoulder, as if checking with Soren whether to answer my question)  
Well...we only know the stories we heard as children. We aren't sure we've actually met a real witch before. But...

CHA CHA  
(Reaches out to poke a finger into the light)  
But?

TRENA  
All the stories say that witches ask for something in return. Because they have to make great sacrifices to get their powers.

(CHA CHA tests the wall again. Then she signals to TRENA that the atoms are ready and lets her go through first. CHA CHA pauses to take one last look behind them.)

Dear Nemo,

No matter how magical everything appears, I know how this ship works. I can't help thinking I might be caught out any moment.

But I'm committed now. I follow Trena outside.

If Earth ever invents the technology for serious space travel, there might be a market for guidebooks. And if I wrote one, my number one piece of advice would be this: Expect your nose to get its questions answered first.

Mine did. When I came through the hold my foot landed on the ground and raised some dust. The dust had a smell. I couldn't describe it, but my nose demanded I try. It was so nearly like dirt, yet so nearly like mattress foam. And there was a combination of soapy strawberry and ginger. Partly it was like nothing I'd ever smelled. That was just the dirt, right? Imagine how much smelling I still had to do.

With all that going on, my ears just couldn't get any attention. Trena must have said my name several times, and finally had to shout before I looked up and realized that she must have been carrying on the conversation we started in the hold. I said sorry, but she pulled a face. Then she turned to speak to Soren, and that's when I realized.

***

Soren, what did she say?

What did you say, Sha Sha?

Why is she looking at us like that? Did we say something wrong?

Sha Sha, the old stories might not be true. We were only children, and we didn't have any way of proving them.

Sha Sha?

...not understand? Not understand what? Soren, why is she waving her hands? Is that a spell? Why has she suddenly started talking so clumsily? Her pronunciation is terrible.

Not...understand...word...not...understand... Soren, this could be a spell—see how she sticks out her tongue and pinches it between her fingers? Sha Sha, if we made you angry we don't know how. We only hoped you could help us. Please tell us how to repay you. We may not be able to give you anything now, but we promise that when we get to Usalm, we will.

Usalm? Yes, yes, Usalm. Go...Usalm...yes, that's what we talked about, isn't it?

Not...understand...word...

Soren, is she saying she can't understand us?

You...not...understand...us?

Soren, I need to speak with you. Alone.

***

It should have been so obvious. On board ship we've always been able to understand anyone, no matter what language they speak. Writing on a screen, that had to be learned, but talking was translated. Nobody knew how. But you'd think, given how often we've wondered about it, how incredible it actually is, you'd think we would never forget or take it for granted. That's what you'd think.

My great space adventure has stopped dead. Completely dead. My mission can't go anywhere if I only have the Udoric vocabulary of a toddler. It's very close to Trena's language, but not the same. No wonder she's confused.

CHA CHA  
(miming – she pulls out her tongue out with one hand and points to it with the other)  
Not...understand...word.

Dear Nemo,

What else could I say? Fingers, Trena replied and used the word fingers. Then she said 'we don't know', then...no, I don't get that part.

CHA CHA  
Usalm?

Dear Nemo,

She definitely said Usalm. Does she still want to go with a stupid person?

CHA CHA  
Not...understand...word...

Please figure it out. I'm sorry I got your hopes up. I'm a lousy witch.

TRENA  
You  
(points at CHA CHA)  
Not...understand...us?  
(points at herself and empty space beside her)

Dear Nemo,

I nodded. Thank god, thank god. She's got it. Oh bloody hell, how did I ever convince myself I was going to do this? I should just get back inside, apologize to Vavnu and Brahm, sit my devotions, tell David about the sleeping Ilaons and stop moping around. I'm not going to become the next science fiction hero. At some point, I have got to get used to being ordinar--

CHA CHA  
Hey! Where are you going? Hey!!

Dear Nemo,

She can run away if she wanted, but she's not having my backpack!

## CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

David spotted the robin again. It took to the sky and air danced where the trees were thinner, right over his head. It drew ever widening circles that didn't quite include him, so he had to keep moving. It went to the stream bed where it lighted teasingly on stones further down.

But as the forest closed in, the mountain mist and setting sun made the middle distance gloomy. The bird flew away and vanished. David listened, but it was remarkably quiet landscape. Nothing else flew or sang; only a breeze moved the leaves. Then there was one noise, not a chirp but a squawk. It sounded close.

He continued, more slowly, down the slope. In the increasing darkness, darker than the ship produced, he noticed for the first time how much he shone. That, he concluded, would probably scare off anything. So he changed his mind about bird watching. He gathered a few more sticks and leaves instead and headed quickly for the clearing where the ship waited.

Coming out of the trees he heard the same noise, like a chicken with a cough or the horn on a vintage car. He stopped in front of the stacked timber. His glow lit up the ground near the hold, showed up the sharp shadows where feet had trod. Too many feet, he felt. There were small prints the Ilaons could not have made. And they went over each other as if one person had shifted back and forth on the spot. Then they fled, in roughly the same direction Tarne had taken.

As he was checking these, a cock pheasant stepped daintily into his line of sight. Bolder than ones from Earth, it didn't startle when he moved but shook its plumage and continued to approach. And it let out its characteristic klaxon call, the third one, so he suspected it might have been following him.

"Now," he said to the bird calmly, "this is the time to ask Shamana Vavnu if being volax involves hallucinations."

But when he met the doctor in the Control Room, she was far too agitated for questions. "Where have you been?" she demanded. "Have you found her?"

"Found who?" he asked, and immediately felt stupid. "Sorry," he said. "I did look, but Cha Cha's getting damn good at hiding. I came here and saw Sesom had gone--,"

Brahm, who stood at the screens, added. "Cha Cha has also left the ship."

"What?!" He came across and sure enough, the screens had images of two girls – it explained the smaller footprints. "What the hell is she doing?"

"We don't know," the doctor answered.

"And that other one?"

"She looks Ilaon," Brahm said.

"But--," he began. Except there seemed no point mentioning what was or wasn't possible, not after the things he'd seen outside. "I'll go look." Then he remembered his botany samples. "As soon as I put these away."

The doctor growled. He thought she was only venting frustration, until he turned and saw the mehltrom was open. And there was a peacock inside. Its tail, fully fanned, was too wide for the compartment and so the blue-green feathers had to bend round the corners.

"Can you see that?" he asked Vavnu. She answered by baring her teeth. "That's the third bird," he explained.

"How did it get inside?" she snarled.

"I think," he said, "I think I might be making them appear."

"No," said the peacock.

It sashayed into the room, stopped in the middle of the floor. Then it shook its tail and its whole body dissolved into a million color pixels. The doctor fell silent. All the pretty fragments spread themselves out to make a radiant mandala. Then slowly the particles round the edge began to move anti-clockwise. They pulled on the particles beneath them, which in turn pulled the ones below that.

A vortex built. It moved faster, and though the force threw the odd piece out it would always return to the group. It was almost disappointing when the colors began to fade. Then the spinning diminished finally stopped. The many pieces became one.

And the one looked human. It had a plasticine smooth body with basic expressions of head, arms and legs. It wore the same clothes David did. The skin suggested youth, but the eyes said otherwise. Vavnu had moved away, carefully, and drawn Brahm with her.

"Koda, by the way," the human form said.

"David," replied David, warily.

"You must have worked fast on Earth, David," Koda remarked. "I remember my last visit. You'd invented machines that flew but to be frank, they barely got off the ground."

There was no answer to that without questions. "Your last visit?"

"I should go more often. Earth gets left off most travel plans, not just mine. It's such a detour. So," Koda asked, "where have you been lately?"

"Would you mind telling me more about yourself before I answer that?"

Koda nodded. "If you like."

"What are you?"

"The same as you."

"I don't think so."

"He is," Vavnu interjected.

"Thank you, Shamana," Koda bowed. "A Kroxi priestess is always useful. Some people are fooled by how primitive they seem, but what they do know is worth knowing."

"He is volax?" David asked the doctor, and she nodded. "But the bird thing...?"

"She's lucky," Koda said. "We don't often change shape in front of mortals, unless--,"

And then the visitor stopped. Brahm had swooned, stumbled a little. Vavnu was ready to catch him, and she helped him sit on the floor.

Without taking his eyes off the Udoran, Koda's body and clothes erupted in rainbow colors. "Fosani," he murmured.

"I'll get his chair," David said. He dropped the tree pieces and passed directly through the wall to his quarters. He also passed through a laundry truck, which he didn't remember being there before. When he returned, Koda was subtler in hue but no less entranced. They both helped Vavnu lift Brahm's stiff body into the chair, flex his knees and hips to try and make him comfortable.

"Sorry," David apologized, "you were saying?"

"It doesn't matter now," Koda said. "You have fosani."

"What's fosani?"

The doctor chuckled, as though he'd missed the punch line of a joke.

Koda shook his head. "You must be very new."

"So how old are you?" David asked. "If you don't mind me--,"

"No, no" Koda insisted. "I used to be one of the youngest. If I use your timescale, it would be about thirty thousand years."

With no way of processing that, David was quiet. Brahm, with his disembodied voice, broke the silence.

-CHA CHA-

Vavnu stroked his forehead. "Do you know where she is?"

-USALM-

"What can I offer him?" Koda wanted to know.

"We had another person on board," David said. "Now she's gone. We don't know why."

"And she's in the city."

"Is she? Then it's a city she doesn't know. A city we don't know."

"I can help," Koda said.

"If...you want..."

"I may seem unimaginably old to you," the visitor said, "but there are still things I have waited all this time to see." Then he bent over and kissed the Udoran in the middle of his snaking eyebrow. He bowed to Vavnu before turning back to David.

"When would you like to leave?"

***

Omri Date: 8342 (Launch plus 1097) Quarter Sey, Cycle 3

I don't know the time. Once the sun sets in the mountains, darkness is sudden and complete. There are no sounds here, like you hear at low altitudes; no animals call or forage. And there are no tones or alarms, no system audits, no talking.

Right now I need this. Tarne will understand. As soon as he finds I'm gone he'll guess, but I don't believe he'll tell anyone about my cave. David came so very, very close. As soon as I saw him float out of the trees, I got down flat on my stomach. I peered through a gap between stones on the ledge. I watched him search among the rocks. At one point he looked up. He must have seen. The cave has such a distinctive opening.

Or perhaps he didn't need to see. Perhaps he always knew. It may have been a show, to follow me that far, and demonstrate his power. His and Brahm's. This is what I need to understand.

Here—in this cave—here I had my first vision. I didn't come knowing what to do or what to expect. I came because Arnor...Arnor was such hard work.

He wasn't making sense anymore. He would tell me he had become a cloud or a tree. He was so often unwell. And Gylot had planted spies among us, traitors to their own kind, Illayons posing as refugees. And when they had made themselves popular in the tunnels, they began to urge people to get out, go down to the city and fight the enemy.

Tarne was trying to smooth things, to coax and persuade. But I could see that wouldn't work. Always, always there are individuals who don't respond to words, who only understand action. But I didn't know what action to take.

So I came here. I asked Ahm-Lat to help me, and I sat on this ledge for two days. I had no food. My clothes were more suitable then than now, but if I remember correctly the rain soaked them.

This is where the visions started, and the only place they ever made sense. I fell asleep. A while later I thought a noise woke me. But when I looked out over the ledge, instead of the mountain I saw the city. Usalm was directly below me, and I stood at the river, facing the troops that Gylot had camped on the east bank.

In that instant I knew. I didn't hear a voice. I went back to the tunnels immediately to begin recruiting, and I grew more convinced because I was able to persuade the exact men I wanted to trap. Then I marched that army of fools down to the plain. It was a suicide mission, and there was every chance I would die with them. But because I didn't, I had no doubt the vision was true.

And so clear. I didn't get riddles, like my brother.

But I don't expect anything dramatic now. I just need time. In the presence of David and Brahm, I began to doubt what I remembered. Did I dream? Did I know? If I did, then why have I been rewarded this way? Their immortality seems to be a reward, while mine is punishment.

## CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Dear Nemo,

Let's take a moment to describe our surroundings. This is important. I'm sure any captured soldier is trained to keep himself calm and observant. Anything, the smallest detail, might be exactly what he needs to save himself.

The room where I'm sitting is part of a building that must be very, very old. The walls are made of small stones plastered together like houses in Norfolk. The roof, well, I can't tell what that is. It reminds me of macramé, strands of stuff tied in fancy knots. But that's high above our heads, maybe thirty feet. No windows, but near the roof a bit of the wall has been sliced away to make a vent. That's open now. Last night the guards took a long pole, stuck it through the opening and pulled down a shutter. No locks on it or anything, but even if I could climb I'd have to break all my ribs to squeeze through a space that size.

The floor is packed dirt, but not dirty dirt, if you know what I mean. No loose particles, and it doesn't stain my jeans. Maybe it's their version of concrete. And we aren't cramped together, Trena and I. They've given us as much space as we need to lie down and a bit more for standing up without bumping into each other. If we need the toilet, there's a second room with openings in the floor and you can hear water running underneath. It doesn't smell bad.

Then there's a third room, and that's where our guards sit and watch us. They work shifts. This guy watching us now is the one who arrested us. He's not friendly, but he's not nasty either. And you can't blame him for wondering what the hell we were doing.

When Trena took my backpack I thought she'd be easy to chase down because she was carrying her body weight in dress. But you should never underestimate a person on their home ground, and especially that ground. You can't run on it. Like treading marshmallow -- my boots just sank. Whereas Trena, it took me a while to notice, kept close to the trees instead of running in the space between them. That's where the surface firms up.

I got stuck a couple of times so badly that I nearly gave up. But Trena wasn't exactly sprinting, and apart from trees there weren't many other plants. I could see her no matter how far away she got. And it was all downhill. That's why I didn't really think about distance. I had to get my pack.

On my last day on Earth, the day Noah took me shopping, I bought food. I was hoping Brahm would be able to copy it, so we'd have better stuff in the feeding station. So you have to understand that Trena was running away with my only hope of decent meals. She had two packets of crisps (plain and prawn cocktail flavor) chewable vitamins, a real Italian salami, long life milk and granola.

Oh, and a jar of instant coffee. That was for David, in case he came back, but before I knew he was going to be volax. Now I wish I'd got drinking chocolate.

Who knows how far Trena and I ran. She got so tired she was stumbling and dropping her dress. I would lean against trees to catch my breath while she gathered up her skirt. And then, just when I'd started to close the gap, she stopped dead. She looked back and saw me coming, but she didn't move. So I slowed up—I couldn't have run much further anyway.

Closer to her, that's when I saw the drop. Someone had cut a straight sided trench through the middle of this forest. It went down maybe fifty feet, and the bottom looked leveled and packed

I wondered if it was a road. There isn't a Udoran word for that so I pointed and asked Trena "Corridor?"

She started jabbering. I understood Soren's name and little words like 'we' and 'go' and 'feet'. When I shook my head and said I didn't understand she started to cry. She turned away, and when she did she stumbled. Looking back, I suppose I overreacted, but at the time I was sure she was going over the edge. So I grabbed the nearest thing, one of the long strips of fabric on her dress. And I pulled.

Next thing I knew—a tearing sound. If it had been new cloth, we would have been fine. Instead it ripped like tissue paper, with a spray of dust and thread bits that hung in the air between us.

And I could see what it did to Trena. When she saw that single piece dangling free, no longer part of her cherished wedding dress...when she realized that I'd torn away part of her carefully constructed fantasy, you could pretty much guess that memories were coming back, memories she'd worked so hard to forget.

I was glad I didn't understand her then. She started to scream, and I mean foam at the corners of her mouth. Her face turned blotchy, and she didn't breathe properly. What was I supposed to do? I just stood there. It made her angrier and angrier. Then her hands, which were waving around, happened to brush against the shoulder strap on the backpack. She stopped screaming long enough to scowl at it. Then she pulled it off her arm and flung it into the trench.

I think I shouted, "Oh my god!" I threw the piece of wedding dress in her face.

Then I got down on my bum and slid myself close to the drop so I could dangle my legs over. My boots searched for a foothold, or what I hoped was a foothold. I picked my way down the slope; it took ages. Trena was still screaming but I figured she would need to keep doing that for a while. When I got to the bottom I ran across to the pack and opened it, and then I thanked myself for wrapping all the food inside my fleece and for having a fleece, because it was getting cold.

I put on the jacket and my Peruvian hat. Then I had a good look at the mountain, the way we'd come, but the forest seemed unbroken and I couldn't make out the clearing where Brahm landed the ship. After staring and staring at trees, I decided I would have to sacrifice my cache of food in order to survive while I tried to find my footprints and follow them back. They were brave sounding thoughts-- I actually spoke them in my mind with an epic movie voice over. I was trying to hype up all this stupid running around and sell it to myself as a proper adventure.

I didn't notice that Trena had stopped screaming or that she had gathered up her skirts again and eased herself over the edge. When I did look, when she called my name, she was dangling by one hand. Her left foot had the smallest toehold on the slope, and her right foot was tangled up in that bloody dress.

Nobody could have saved her. When she fell she went backwards; the skirt and all its strips of cloth covered her head and left her legs naked. She rolled all the way down. When she hit bottom she landed on her stomach. She lifted her head and one of the cloth strips was stuffed in her mouth.

Now that I'm in prison, with nothing to stare at but stone walls, I swear to become the kind of person who would have behaved differently. If I'd kept my mouth shut, if I'd gone over and helped her up, returned her underwear to the right place and smoothed down the dress, that would have translated. She'd have known I was kind.

Instead I laughed. I cried laughing and so Trena just started screaming again. She rushed me; she tried to get a piece of her dress round my throat. I fought her off and ran away, straight down the middle of this road. It was a good surface but went on for miles and there were no intersections or any way to get back up to the trees. Eventually it seemed stupid; I wasn't getting anywhere except further from the ship. I stopped and waited for Trena. She was limping but she still felt mad enough to try and attack me. I shoved her hard, knocked her down and repeated, "Stop, stop stop!!"in my loudest voice until she nodded to show she got the idea.

And a few seconds after that our guard landed his jet bug on the road behind us.

***

The guard stood out of his chair when the prelate and chief of security entered the cell.

"No problem," Brosomis assured him. "We only want to see the prisoners." And Nahl-Ot smiled, asked how he was, if the arrest had been difficult.

"No prelate," the guard replied. "They are young Bormu. I don't think they understand how the real world works."

"Why were they on the road?"

"We're not sure."

"Come see," Brosomis said. She let the prelate look through the hatch the guard used to watch the confinement area. Nahl-Ot's first glance caused a little panic. Then he looked again. Yes, she wore a wedding gown, and was the right age. But she wasn't Lady Ahma. The dress was filthy and faded.

"She isn't well," the security chief explained. "Though she communicates better than her friend. She talks to herself, to someone she imagines. She thinks we can see him."

"Calls him Soren," the guard added. "All she talks about is getting married."

Hearing the word gave the prelate one of those pinpoint headaches under his eyebrow. He looked at the other prisoner. She was looking back at him, but he didn't think that rude. In her eyes, he might be an unusual sight too.

"We have a problem," he confessed to Brosomis.

"No," she said. "Apart from these two, the forest has been perfectly quiet. And the fire is under control. If you came to the city now you'd never know it happened."

"That's not what I mean." Nahl-Ot turned to the guard, and asked if he could give them a short time alone. "I don't think the prisoners will harm us."

"No prelate," the guard agreed, "but I will lock you in. Knock when you're finished."

Once he'd gone, Nahl-Ot put a hand on Brosomis' shoulder. "It's Shilane. He told me he doesn't want to get married."

It took her a moment, then she banged the nearest wall with a fist. It startled the prisoners, so she moved away from the hatch. "He is the most--,"

"I know, I know," Nahl-Ot said. "I should have taken your advice, when I first told you about the engagement. I always thought I could tell when he wasn't happy, when he was just pretending."

"Why was it different this time?"

"Because," he began, staring at the wall beyond her, "because you couldn't imagine how he'd resist falling in love. Ahma was a little nervous, a little unsure of herself when she first came out of the tunnels. He didn't seem to mind helping her, and that's not like him. And she was...none of us, you know, as soon as we had time to know her...," He couldn't find the right words. But he suspected Brosomis had, because she gave him a hard look.

"And how long before the two of you would have fought over her?" she asked.

Nahl-Ot put threw up his hands. "I shouldn't, I know. I'm an old widower--,"

"Not so old."

"Don't patronize. But I would never have made trouble, never. I would have doted on my grandchildren. But why are we even talking about this? We have a wedding that must happen before the conference. The Emperor of Wes has been invited, and my son wants to call it off."

"We could postpone it."

"No! The whole city is losing sleep, preparing. When the Emperor comes, they want the streets and walls decorated. They want to make a good impression."

Brosomis shrugged. Then she laughed. Then she looked as though she was going back over the joke, to see if it might be more serious than she'd realized.

"What if," she suggested, "we gave him a bride who wouldn't know she'd married him?"

## CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

"She's Chinese," Koda remarked, when he saw the images of Cha Cha.

"From Hong Kong," David replied.

"You took her from there?"

"Took? No. Not that one."

Koda looked at him. "What do you mean, 'not that one'?"

"Sorry. I mean if you met her, you'd know she wasn't easy to take anywhere."

"So true," Shamana Vavnu agreed.

Brahm had revived, and she was struggling to move the chair round so the Udoran could see their visitor. David left the monitors to help.

"Oh," the doctor huffed. "Before you go, I must fetch his bed. This is too heavy."

While she went to get it, Koda alternated between studying the images and studying the chair that was now beside him. He put a hand on the headrest.

"It's not the best solution," he said.

"All we have," David admitted, "and he gets tired of lying down."

"Can you...find Cha Cha?" Brahm asked.

Koda looked back at the screens. "You said she would be in Usalm?"

When the Udoran hesitated David answered, "He doesn't always remember."

"What about the other girl?"

"No idea...must have been nearby."

Koda shook his head. "Not this far up. And not wearing that." He was quiet a while. "But you say Usalm," he resumed, "so we'll go."

When they left the ship together, they shone like two beacons in the blackness. David asked, "Won't we attract the wrong kind of attention?"

But Koda carried on as if he hadn't heard. David followed his lead and ran down the slope, passing through trunks and low hanging branches. They went like this for miles. When the trees began to be smaller and further apart, Koda stopped.

"First lesson," he announced.

"First lesson in...?"

"In what you have become. Being volax means you are no longer a person. You will probably remember being one, be capable of doing some things you used to do. And those who knew you as a mortal may treat you like one. This can slow your development."

"So what am I, then?"

"You are an idea."

"Doesn't tell me much."

"You'll see how much can fit into that definition. But everything is learned one step at a time. Right now, I think you should learn to change shape."

"Do we have time?"

Koda turned and sped away. "Who said we would stand still?" he called.

David chased. His legs moved like pistons, yet they seemed to slow him down. He got behind. Koda kept ahead of him all the way out of the forest onto the open grassland. Now and again he would stop, turn to see where his pupil was, but never waited long enough.

"Come on, David," he said, "what's the problem?"

And the second it occurred to David that the whole premise of running was stupid, things changed. He stopped having legs and travelled much faster. He caught up with Koda, who promptly exploded. His body burst like a water balloon, and David passed through the spray of droplets

He heard a voice ask, "What birds do you know?"

"Well," he thought, "The ones you looked like, obviously. Hard to think."

"Pick the first one that comes into your head."

Koda's vapor shone like beads of mercury against the dark. The contrast brought to mind a magpie. "Got it," he said.

"Then bring it alive," the other volax said. "You'll find you're quite imaginative, even if you were never before. The way it moves, what it looks like in air."

David tried. He thought the first effort might be poor, but he left the ground easily. Then a current caught his wings and swept him higher. He was able to see the last dregs of sunset on the summit of Mount So behind him, and before him the fire that caused Sesom's distress. Koda passed by looking like...well...like a baby dragon. His wings were covered in skin and his serpentine body had iridescent blue scales and four tiny legs.

"Very good," his mentor said. "I'm sure I didn't learn as quickly."

He took them directly over the site of the fire. Whatever the structure had been, it was nothing but a smoking stain with the odd surviving support beam. Koda circled it a few times. Then he dove, taking them into heat that would have fried the flesh off real birds.

"What do you know about this area?"

"Nothing," David admitted.

Koda landed on white hot cinders. "Better add a history lesson then. This region," he rolled his scaly head, "has been a crossroads. Different people came, different people went, a few stayed. I remember when the Ilaons came."

"I've heard of Ilaons."

"Have you?" Koda's little mouth had a forked tongue that flicked in and out when he was quiet. "They weren't a people as such. Up in these mountains, twenty-three hundred years ago, there were dozens of small tribal groups, hunting and foraging. A few probably started to work together, and some must have decided to come down and experience life in the city."

"Usalm is that old?"

"Usalm is older. But don't let me digress. Ilaons did well. Maybe they had a talent for leadership, or you could be nasty and call it ruthlessness. Either way a fair number of Ilaons worked their way into powerful positions in government, military, trading."

"Was that a problem?"

"Same thing happens on Earth, surely. Success attracts enemies."

"Yep."

"As does ruthlessness. So the older ruling clans in Usalm formed an alliance to get rid of the Ilaons, and they had to find ways to leave."

"Including Sesom."

The little dragon gave him a look through half lidded eyes. "You know about Sesom?"

David didn't know why he decided to say, "Just the name," and leave so much a secret. An old gut reaction, he supposed, if volax could have such a thing.

His mentor flexed his wings, as if deciding on his next move. "Not much more to know. He was a young army officer from one of the best Ilaon families, but even Ilaon historians have decided he was nothing more than a figurehead. The escape attempt, if there was one, was more likely masterminded by a businessman named Tarne. He owned one of the trade routes over these mountains. He had the means to smuggle people out."

"So what happened then?"

"I'm sure you'll find out what most people believe, once we reach the city. Sesom probably had as much success as anyone. Thousands of Ilaons fled into the mountains or down river to the gulf. From there they spread all over Omri, and eventually to other planets. In spite their misfortune, they are still very successful. And there may be descendants of Sesom somewhere. But they won't know who they are. That's the story accepted by most."

"But not all?"

"If you belong to the Bormu, for example--,"

"Bormu?"

"A romantic movement. They've existed on and off for centuries. They believe Sesom and his brother Arnor built two spacecraft, somewhere around here. Supposedly Sesom took one, filled it with Ilaon refugees, and escaped."

"Filled?"

"Ridiculous," Koda sniffed, "since that level of technology hadn't come to Omri."

"What happened to Arnor?"

"Precisely. If there were two ships the equivalent of yours, for argument's sake, why is it a mystery what happened to both of them?" Then without warning Koda took to the air again. David followed. They left the scene of destruction and began to descend as the geography did, following the current of a nearby river. The mountains gave way to foothills. Beyond them, you could see the water flow past a walled city.

"You've run out of questions?" Koda asked.

"I needed time to digest all that," David replied. It was true enough. "When we get to Usalm, where do we start looking for Cha Cha?"

"Depends," Koda replied, "because the city gets its share of unusual visitors. But I expect security will be increased because of the conference."

"Conference?"

"It's the reason I came. I travel a lot, as you must have gathered. I like to pick my places. I like to see history in the making."

## CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

In the time it took the sun to sink down and nestle between the peaks of So and Limata, they slipped back easily into old ways.

Tarne led, but as soon as they could no longer look back and see the ship, he stopped. Without being asked, Demos stripped bark from the nearest tamish trees: wide strips from the trunk, narrow from the branches. His hands remembered exactly how to make the flat shoes that would stop their feet sinking. He tossed the first pair to his uncle and started another.

After that they travelled quickly. They headed south west, reached the river at the foot of the Amosis falls before it got dark. The trade route was still there, the road a bit overgrown but still easy to follow.

In case it still mattered, Tarne checked the undergrowth for hiding places. The crook backed trees, the nohen, never stood alone. They grew in groups of three or four, roots meshed together to spread wide and deep. Tap the ground close to a cluster and there would be a weak spot. It would open up a crawl space, enough for a few people to shelter.

But they met no one, not while the road ran alongside the rapids or when the river got wider and slower. Tarne sent Lor-Soven ahead to see if there were still night sentries at the trading post. His nephew returned quickly; he took them to see what was left. There were no sentries because there were no gates, no walls--only sink holes in grass. The memory of buildings was preserved by the odd clump of mortared stones.

They camped among these ruins. Demos found bladeheads under the rocks. Lor-Soven dredged the river with his shoe and caught li. They ate and tried to remember how the place used to be, before taking turns to sleep. Tarne sat the last watch, the very early morning when the ren were brave enough to graze in the open. It was peaceful, but he didn't entirely trust that. He got them up and away before sunrise.

They turned north, back into the forest where the trees were taller and closer, where it was so dark they kept their bearings by noting where the tamish trunks split. They picked coils that sprouted in the gaps and saved them to eat later.

As the day wore on the forest grew warmer and less dull. Anticipating the end of the trees and the start of open land, Tarne decided what they would do. To avoid the attention of small aircraft, he wanted to approach the site of the fire alone. Demos was allowed to follow after the shadows turned five degrees, and keep in his uncle's tracks. Lor-Soven was instructed to dig himself under a nohen tree near the edge of the forest and wait. If he was still alone by sunset, his orders were to return to David.

This close, the air smelled burnt. But as Tarne broke cover and headed across the grass, he could see the smoke had turned grey and spread thin overnight. It made for hazy but pleasant sunshine. In different circumstances he might have enjoyed it, if he knew what he would find and didn't have so many memories of the same journey.

The first time he crossed this flatland, it was only after much persuasion. Sesom had barely been found and given refuge in the forest, yet he wanted to come out here and risk capture. He took Tarne to the factory. It was an enormous place, overseen by a slight, stammering man Sesom introduced as his brother.

Arnor didn't greet them, wouldn't look them in the eyes. But he spread out charts and showed them where they could find the old mining tunnels. Whether to use them was another question. They were extensive, went deep in the mountain, but were never intended for living space. They looked good for defense, poor for escape.

The second journey happened maybe a year later. Arnor sent messengers to fetch Tarne, to persuade him, tell him it was urgent. The factory overseer had been receiving visions, dreams that knocked him flat for days but the result was detailed plans for a machine he couldn't possibly have invented himself. He wanted Tarne to provide a building crew.

Sesom was away. Until then it hadn't been necessary for Tarne to judge the soldier's brother on his own merits. Arnor could stand and stare at nothing all day then work through the night. He never wore his clothes correctly without help from his workers, and only ate food mashed smooth. All the way across the grassland and all the way back, Tarne had to decide whether he could trust this man with the lives of Ilaons he'd worked so hard to save.

Sesom could have come with him the third time, but Arnor wanted Tarne to come alone. The first ship was finished. Sesom wanted to launch; his brother wanted to wait. A second ship would be ready to join them, not soon but before the end of the quarter. And Arnor had a friend, a man from the island of Wes who owned the factory. He wanted to join them but needed time to bring his relatives by sea.

Sesom had been frantic. He said the delay would put them in danger and maybe it would. Either way, there was never a third meeting. Arnor forgot, lost heart? When Tarne arrived he wasn't there, and none of the workers knew when he would return. But they wouldn't hear him criticized. They adored him. They claimed those who thought differently had never seen what he was really like, what happened to him on days when he couldn't leave his bed because the visions seized him. They tried to describe the change in his eyes.

Now Tarne had seen this in Brahm. And he supposed the reason they were allowed to come home must be to atone for their mistake, face consequences that had developed over lost centuries, or something like that. Not that he told this to anyone. He felt guilty in a businessman's way, which meant he accepted his actions might have created debts he would have to pay. But that was as far as it went. No matter what they knew or didn't know in the past, they'd taken pragmatic action, made safety and peace the greatest considerations.

After fifteen degrees of walking, he was close enough to see the fire but far from any people. Tarne stopped and sat down. He had no doubt this was the location of Arnor's factory; the mountains cut the same outline from the sky and the river turned sharply east and back to the west, where engineers had changed its course. But the burned building was too small. And the fences, roads and other structures nearby meant nothing.

When Demos arrived they sat together a while. His nephew shared the coils he had gathered.

"On the way back," Tarne said, "we'll try to catch ren."

"Lor-Soven already has," Demos replied. "He's skinned and gutted two, but he's hanging the meat to dry. We didn't think we should build a fire."

Tarne nodded, while distant people poured water on the burned building. It was still hot enough to make steam.

"What will we do," Demos asked, "once we get back?"

His uncle shrugged. "I don't know."

"I wish we could stay."

Tarne studied the people. "It may be too early for wishes," he said.

"Then why did we come? And why ask David to let us leave?"

"We have to try."

"Try what?"

Tarne gave his nephew a wearied look, and it created a spell of silence. Demos chewed the seed heads off blades of grass. "Sometimes you do things because you don't have a reason. You hope that the doing will show you what to do next." his uncle explained at last. "That was all I meant. Sesom didn't even want to look."

"Maybe Sesom knows something we don't. Maybe Ahm-Lat showed him the fire in his meditations."

Tarne sighed. He put his hand on Demos' arm, is if he might need support. "Sesom has not been meditating. Not really. Not since Brahm...woke up."

And Demos was affected. You could see the shock in his face. Tarne wanted to say yes, it's a terrible thing to be without purpose, gone from the past and excluded from the future. And if it feels like this to us, it has to be worse for our leader.

But instead they endured a second silence, much longer. Late morning changed to early afternoon. Two aircraft landed in front of the burned building. The occupants came out to wander the wider area. At one point it seemed they might spot the two Ilaons. Tarne and Demos lay flat on their stomachs, listened for approaching feet. But nothing came. The craft launched again and flew south, out of the mountains.

Then Tarne stood up.

"Watch a while," he said. "Make sure no one notices or follows me. Then bring yourself."

Yet when Demos did get back to the forest, as the sun coming down, neither his uncle or brother were there. He knew it was the correct place because a piece of Lor-Soven's dried ren still hung from a branch, directly above his new shoes. He went in a wide circle round the area, checking any clusters of nohen trees. He called. But there was nothing.

***

Tarne sensed danger, though at first he questioned whether it was his memory playing tricks. Back when he brought the first Ilaons to hide in the forest, he trained teams of watchmen to conceal themselves where the grassland met the trees, and stalk anyone who approached. Now he entered the same territory and felt sure he was watched.

A few more steps and he knew. A short distance away, he saw Lor-Soven's camp and what looked like a body curled up on the ground. When he paused, to try and decide the best thing to do, he heard a voice behind him.

"Keep walking," it said.

Tarne was thankful just to understand the words. He did as he was told. Each step took him closer to the body; with relief he saw it was his nephew and he was alive. His hands and feet had been tied. There were footprints breaking up the ground around him, enough to suggest the attentions of a group. Tarne stopped in a place where he could face Lor-Soven, but the young man wouldn't look at him, wouldn't speak.

The old ways...Lor-Soven would remember patrol duty. Anyone unknown was captured and bound exactly as he was. Then they would be interrogated, to see what they knew. Even recognized people, factory workers returning home, could be put through the process.

And then curious conversations would take place, where each statement was a form of code, and the respondent had to know the correct reply. It meant a lot of memory work. Some people found it tiresome, but their complaints never managed to change the rules. Tarne had been firm.

"The forest is alive today," said the voice that had followed him.

Tarne's mouth opened from habit, but was too stunned to make words. This couldn't be right, not after one thousand years. No one would remember, and there was no reason why--,

"The forest is alive today." He knew the voice was giving him one last chance.

"Then the hunting will be good," he replied. Lor-Soven did look at him now, just as amazed.

"Did you bring your traps?" asked the voice.

"No," Tarne said. "We forgot. Do you have one we could borrow?"

"Only if you follow me."

"Wait," Tarne said, breaking with code. "The man you've tied up is with me."

"We know," the voice said. "He answered his questions correctly. But he'll need to stay behind. He might have been left as bait."

Tarne nodded slowly. "I understand."

"Then follow me."

He turned to see the owner of the voice. He was not Ilaon. His eyes and mouth had that pinched appearance which came from the gulf coast. But he carried a long blade, just like the ones Tarne used to issue to his guards.

"I follow," Tarne said.

They bore southeast on a slight incline. Tarne was not surprised when they came abruptly on a clearing, exactly the size and shape of the one he located for Brahm and David to land the ship. There was neatly stacked timber at one end. His escort made him stand and face it.

"If you wait here," he promised. "I'll bring traps for you."

This was another test. Tarne scrutinized the pile of logs, but could not see eyes peering between the gaps. Nevertheless, he remained still. The owner of the voice returned shortly and brought company: a woman who might have come from Wes and two men who looked Ilaon with bluer complexions. All carried blades.

"The traps are here," his captor said, "and they've been set. Now we need to know exactly who we've caught."

And they lifted their weapons so the sharp edges met at Tarne's throat. And this could be the end. He knew his own procedures. Whatever he said next would be his personal identifier, and while it seemed his methods had been preserved perfectly so far, that was no guarantee of anything. There was no way to divert them or stall. If he ran there were probably more guards in hiding. His only hope was Demos, that he might escape and get back to the ship with a warning.

So he took a deep breath and said his own code phrase. "I am the one who would die for you all."

The long blades dropped. Literally, every person threw down his weapon down as if ashamed to be caught in possession. And the man from the gulf coast staggered back, with wide open eyes and a hand over his mouth. The woman burst into tears.

## CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

After a few seconds the man recovered. He told the woman, "Go quickly. Make the highest alert." And when she'd gone, he addressed his prisoner. "Commander Sesom, the remnant of your people have waited faithfully for you."

Tarne opened his mouth instinctively, to correct him. And then he stopped. There was an expectant air in the clearing. Lor-Soven was still back in the camp, tied up. Demos might return soon, and then?

So he said, "Thank you." And when that didn't seem enough he added, "You have done me a great honor."

"Commander," the man replied in a trembling voice, "you can't imagine what this means. Personally, I've been waiting fifteen years for your return. But the Bormu--the Bormu have waited centuries."

Tarne wished he could ask why. Instead he nodded. "It has been a long time."

"I am Betalamet, sir" the man from the gulf coast, said. "I lead this patrol. We will escort you back to the tunnels."

"And my companion?" Tarne asked. Betalamet sent one of his men into the forest at a run. They returned with Lor-Soven unbound and baffled by this change in treatment. Tarne smiled, embraced him and murmured in his ear, "Say nothing."

Then the patrol led them out of the clearing and continued southeast. Light was leaving the sky but Tarne knew exactly where he was going. Back to the tunnels...there were still tunnels. As they walked he could make conversation with Betalamet, by asking if they had extended any channels or added entrances, whether they had solved the problems with water supply.

They came to the foothills of Mount So, and the climb began in earnest. They walked single file on a steep path laid over with tiny gravel that got between their toes. The trees thinned. Finally they came to a place where an avalanche had ploughed down the slope and left a bank of broken stones, higher than their heads. A small crowd had gathered there.

"What are you doing?" Betalamet called to them. "No one is meant to be outside without an assignment."

"You can't keep him to yourself, Beta," someone in the crowd replied. "Commander Sesom didn't return just for you."

"More likely," said another, "he came because of you."

Betalamet did not react to this comment, or the laughter that followed. The crowd went quiet as the patrol came past; in the gloom Tarne could still see expressions. Some were clearly awed. Others looked as unprepared as he was. And there was one face—he couldn't be sure because they moved so quickly--one face seemed dismayed.

On the side of the avalanche bank he recognized rocks that had been stacked by hand, rocks that centuries of feet had eroded. They took these steps to the top of the slide and then down again into a crater. At the bottom of the crater stood the west entrance. The gates were replacements, shining new metal, but everything else looked the same. Tarne had to stop, so naturally the patrol stopped too.

"I'm sorry," he said to the guards, "It has been a long time." He swallowed, tried to understand how he felt but it was more than could be understood quickly. Lor-Soven put an arm over his shoulder.

Eventually Tarne told Betalamet to carry on. The gates were unlocked and they entered. The tunnel went down below the avalanche debris, below the topsoil. The walls were a mixture of mud and porous rock. He reached out and let his hand drag along the side. It was full of indentations, places where stone slabs had been fitted and inscribed. He wasn't able to read them all, but enough to realize that people must have lived and died and chosen to be buried here.

Dirt gave way to more and more rock; they were penetrating the mountain. They passed through two more gates, after which the space opened abruptly: higher ceiling, broader floor. The single tunnel branched into three.

A woman waited in this place. She was barely of age, and dressed as if today were her wedding. Her yellow gown was worked with tucks and pleats and stitches in coil patterns. The skirt spread wide and broke into eight strands of train; these had been laid out in a sunburst array.

"Lady Ahma," Betalamet spoke, "This is commander Sesom and his companion."

She lifted downcast eyes to study the two of them. She did not seem interested or pleased.

"Well," she said at last, curtly, "If that's true, then I suppose you have to do what you came to do." She ordered the patrol to come gather her dress, which they did. They turned as she turned, and the whole group proceeded with her along the central passage. Because no one kept watch on Tarne, he held back.

"Thank you," he whispered to Lor-Soven. "Please be brave."

"Why do they think--," his nephew tried to ask.

"I don't know," Tarne interrupted. "I'm just glad Sesom isn't here, that he's safe."

***

Hasi had watched his fire burn as long as he could. He climbed a tree and stretched himself out along a high branch. The blaze was spectacular. It was exactly how he'd imagined the prophecy would be fulfilled, with flames shooting up and dark smoke broiling. When city patrols arrived in their little buzzing craft, he knew he'd done it. Far away, down in Usalm, his handiwork was visible. The feeling of being the instrument, a critical part of the greatest event in Ilaon history, was unbelievable. He shook so hard with excitement he sometimes feared he'd lose his grip and fall.

He knew he'd have to leave before dawn, and look for another place to hide. So he went deeper into the forest, away from Bormu territory. He retrieved clothes and food he had buried at Mount Limata and made camp some way up the slope, because he could still see the smoke from there.

The next morning there wasn't much left to see, only the last breaths of cinders. Flying machines swarmed over the scene. Hasi stared until his neck ached, but he never saw the one ship he hoped to see.

He stayed at Limata all that morning. But by the afternoon he began to worry. The ancient writings about Sesom's return didn't say how much time would pass after the fire on the mountain. Old Her-Bi always taught it would be quick. In forums, he would describe how they would see Sesom's great white ship hovering above the smoke. It was just one more way their leader had been wrong.

He decided to go to the cave on Mount So. He no longer worried about meeting Bormu. His smoke stenched clothes were gone and he'd washed; no one would suspect. He reached the nearest patrol places late in the day but he saw no one, not even a lone sentry. He wondered what it meant. A brief urge to rally his supporters and return to the tunnels tempted him, but he resisted. Something more was needed.

As he walked, he held a one way conversation with Commander Sesom.

"I wish you had left us more information. I realize there may not have been time for writing. Of course, since you've been gone, Ahm-Lat has added things, by way of giving inspiration to the Bormu leaders."

"But we need to know details about the war. We don't know whether you start it, in order to punish our enemies, or if our enemies break into factions and fight each other. We know you take us away in your ship. But we don't know whether you take us to another planet and settle us there, or whether we live in space. Personally, I believe you must make our world a better place first, so that we could be here."

"And now I understand the frustration you felt, when you needed to know what to do about Arnor and the second ship. There was no question that Ahm-Lat instructed your brother to build both spacecraft, and I'm sure the second one had a purpose. But that did not mean both had to launch together. After all, the first was already filled with Ilaons. The second was not. A different man might have assumed that Arnor was the only source of inspiration, and waited meekly. But you didn't. Like me, you knew the integrity of your people was critical."

"And you decided to climb Mount So. You will be pleased to find that the cave you chose has become an important place of pilgrimage for any Bormu who has reached a point of indecision. They journey there on foot. They sit staring at the sky and ask for help."

Hasi reached the foot of the old avalanche, turned and headed south. There were still no patrols anywhere. He went as far as the next entrance to the tunnels, before turning in a wide arc that brought him to the standing stones that marked the start of the ascent.

"This is all I ask for, a brief message. I have served you, Commander--I expect you are already aware. I have killed the heresy that would have destroyed the Bormu, because you know what Her-Bi would have done. He would have made us renounce our beliefs, leave our tunnels and return to the city. We would have lost what made us distinct, and when you returned you'd never find your people because they would look like everyone else."

The forest became patchy as Hasi went higher. There were places where slabs of rock pushed through the soil. He didn't bother to take cover because there was nobody on watch to see him. Then as the sun was setting, he spotted the cave. You could not mistake it. It had a broad ledge, a rough triangle of stone that jutted out from its entrance. Most of it was in shade. But on the sunny side there was a figure, seated.

Hasi took no chances. He swung south again and approached the cave from above and slightly behind, where a few trees had enough dirt to hold their roots. He picked a place where he could lie flat and look down on the unexpected company. While the sun slowly withdrew from the ledge, the stranger never moved.

Hasi took comfort from the fact the man was Ilaon, though his clothes were odd. He had the sudden thought that the visitor might have come in one of the aircraft, perhaps travelled from another planet. It was a thrilling possibility--it answered a question he had always wanted to ask Sesom: what about Ilaons who found their own way to flee the persecution, and don't live on Omri? How will they know you've returned? Perhaps, in those far off places, they had their own version of the Bormu, and their leaders came here to ask for help.

Curiosity won over caution. Hasi broke cover and picked his way down to the rocks that piled up under the ledge. He took care not to disturb small stones and give his presence away. By the time the stranger sensed he was not alone and turned, not much distance lay between them. Hasi stopped where he was, with one foot on the ledge, ready to haul himself up.

"Well," he said, "what do you think? You must have seen the fire. When do you think Sesom will return?"

## CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The stranger on the cave ledge looked shocked, no doubt about that.

"I apologize," Hasi said. Then it occurred to him the other man might be afraid. "I had to sneak up on you, but I wasn't going to hurt you." This didn't seem to make things better. Hasi pulled himself onto the ledge and showed the fellow his hands. "No weapon," he insisted.

The stranger regarded those hands solemnly, and some of the anxiety on his face went away. But not all.

"I disturbed your meditations," Hasi added.

The man shook his head. "I wish you had," he said.

He turned away then, to face the same direction he'd faced all the time he'd been watched. Hasi politely kept silent. The stranger was maybe seven, ten years older—the same age his father would have been when he died. An imaginary man of that age always lived in Hasi's mind, spoke and thought and came with him everywhere. It was a simple, enjoyable fantasy to take this figure squatted on the ledge and pretend he was that father, for as long as his back was turned.

But the illusion, like all illusions, became unsatisfying. Hasi stood and tiptoed into the cave. He wanted to see what the stranger brought with him, but was surprised to find empty space, except at the back where a sleeping hole had been dug. He came out again and sat beside his companion. Sidelong glances relieved his boredom, though he knew they would eventually annoy the stranger. Sure enough, the man sighed, stretched his legs and let them dangle over the ledge.

"I suppose you're waiting for me to answer your question," he said.

Hasi shrugged. "Why else would you come?"

The stranger was quiet again, but you could tell this time he was turning over thoughts, looking for one that answered a question, or maybe several questions.

"It's been a long time since I was last here," he finally said.

"In this cave?"

"Yes. But I was also talking about Omri."

"Ah," cried Hasi, "I guessed that!"

The stranger pointed to his clothes. "What I must look like...,"

"That doesn't matter."

"No?" the stranger asked. "I wouldn't look out of place, if I went to Usalm like this?"

Hasi frowned. "Perhaps."

"I thought so. That's why I came here."

More quiet. You would think this oddly dressed man fed on it.

"My name is Hasi. What should I call you?"

Again the stranger paused to think...about what? "Sesom."

Hasi nodded, as though it was nothing, but secretly he was jealous. He'd never heard of anyone naming their son Sesom; it was one of those untouchable labels that could only be used to refer to the historic person. "When did you get here?" he asked.

"Yesterday."

"You saw the fire?" Sesom nodded. "And you knew it was the sign!" Hasi exclaimed.

"The sign?"

Hasi's broad smile went slack at the corners. "The sign that Commander Sesom is about to return."

The other Sesom's eyes opened very wide. He looked more shocked, just then, than in the first moment they met. "I don't," he said at last, and paused to cough, "I didn't know anything about this."

"I can teach you," Hasi shifted himself closer. "You know the two ships Arnor built?"

"Yes."

"And Sesom launched the first one?"

"Yes."

"After he'd gone, Arnor put a notice on the factory gates. It warned everyone that Sesom would return. They would know when this happened, because there would be a great fire on the mountain, on the site of the factory."

Sesom grabbed his arm. "What happened to Arnor?"

Hasi winced, because the grip hurt. "I...I don't know."

"Does anyone know?"

Hasi grit his teeth. "I don't think so." And then he put his hand over Sesom's, to try and pull it off. "I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I'm sorry," Sesom said, and let go. He stood suddenly. "I need time alone," he announced, and went into the cave.

The sun disappeared and darkness came. No spacecraft appeared in the sky. Hasi ate some of the food he'd brought, put some aside. Then it was time to get down to business, though he didn't know how to start. This was another way Her-Bi failed – he never prepared anyone to succeed him. Previous leaders of the Bormu selected young ones and taught them to meditate. That way they could observe the novices and give more attention to those who seemed gifted, until it was clear which one Ahm-Lat had chosen.

"I've had to believe in myself, Commander," Hasi whispered, "all this time. Maybe because I never had a father, it made me better at doing that. Some people say I'm arrogant, and it's true I've never heard any divine words, actual speaking. I've never had more than...feelings. But they are strong."

He tried lying down, the way he imagined Arnor did, like a man already dead. For a while it was encouraging, how the sound of his breathing was there and yet not, how empty he felt, and ready to receive. Then without trying, he went completely blank. Sesom woke him.

"You have dried ren," he said, pointing to the leftover food. "May I have some?"

"Yes," Hasi snapped. He sat up and glowered while his companion chewed and swallowed, licked the leaves that wrapped the meat and sucked his fingers clean.

"Why were you sleeping out here?" Sesom asked.

"I wasn't sleeping!" Hasi retorted. "I was...trying...to meditate. Like Arnor."

Sesom nodded a slow nod. Was it a comprehending one? Hasi turned his head away so he could agonize about this, and make the kind of faces needed. He was about to take a gamble and ask a question, when his companion spoke first.

"Arnor didn't know that would work."

"How do you know?"

Sesom ignored the question. "He got what he wanted when he stopped trying."

"He never stopped trying."

"I see what you mean, but he did run out of ideas."

Hasi turned back just to glare. "What am I supposed to learn from that?"

Sesom shook his head again, at the same speed. "I don't know."

"Then why say it?"

It was Sesom's turn to have an irritated look. "I came here because this was the last place Ahm-Lat spoke to me."

For a long time Hasi couldn't speak. He put his face in his hands, in case envy turned to tears. It didn't, but his heart ached.

And then the thought came, that if this man had heard Ahm-Lat only once long ago, maybe divine instruction came less frequently now. Maybe (no one had ever confirmed this one way or the other) Her-Bi himself never received a message, so he would have nothing to pass on. This idea changed the shape of reality. What if the Bormu had had a leader without vision, without a divine connection, for all this time? At such a point in their history, he felt, and suddenly it became critical that he--

"What did you do?" Hasi lifted his head. "You have to try and teach me."

"Teach?" Sesom said. "What could I teach you?"

"Ahm-Lat spoke to you!"

"And you think that's something?"

"It's everything. Everyone wants a message." But Sesom just shook his head. It made Hasi furious. "What?!"

"Nothing," he said. "You make me remember how much I wanted."

"So?"

"So." Sesom picked up tiny stones and threw them over the ledge. "I remember the day started like this one, very pleasant. But I didn't care. When it rained later, and the wind was cold, I didn't care."

"You had to hear...?"

"I had to decide. I had relied on the leadership of someone else for so long."

"Yes."

"But that day I decided I could not accept what I was hearing."

"Yes," Hasi agreed. "Yes, yes!"

"But when you believe in Ahm-Lat, what do you do? How can you disobey the one he has chosen, unless you can get an indication--,"

"--that you are the one!" Hasi cried. "That only you can rescue the situation, and do what is needed! But you need to know what--,"

Then Sesom got up suddenly and hurried into the cave. Hasi waited a while, thinking he would return. When that didn't happen he called out, "What did I say?" He went inside and asked again. "What did I say that offended you?"

In the blackness, he could just see that Sesom was curled up in the bottom of his hole. His voice was faint. "You didn't say anything wrong. Everything you said was exactly the way I felt."

"Then I don't understand. Why are you behaving like this?"

"Go to sleep."

"What?"

"Lie down near me and go to sleep."

"What will happen?" Hasi asked.

"I don't know," Sesom replied, "maybe nothing."

"Then why--"

"Just go to sleep," Sesom barked the order. "And when we wake up, we'll see if there's more to talk about."

## CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Of the three passages that branched off from that place, Lady Ahma and her guards took the middle tunnel. Tarne knew it led to his rooms, his former rooms, excavated specially for Sesom and himself. He took a deep breath, clapped Lor-Soven on the back to appear brave. Then they followed the retinue.

At the first bend the way was blocked by another troop of guards. The young bride spoke with them, pointed to her new guests. They were allowed to pass. There were more guards stationed at intervals after that. And when they reached the leaders' apartments, the entrance was protected by a barricade of stones.

More guards had to be appeased before they could go inside. Only then could Tarne get to see the first section of his old headquarters. It had been a receiving room, not large, and he was expecting plain stone walls. Now they were covered in bright draperies. The lampstand stood in the same spot, but also there were smaller versions in the corners which added more light. Carved chairs circled the middle of the floor, draped with more pretty cloth. It seemed less like a refuge and more like a residence.

Lady Ahma and her dress were taken to the nearest chair. When Betalamet and his men let go of her pleats and stood back to receive their next instructions, she asked them to leave.

"I would normally brief your father now," the patrol leader reminded her.

Ahma clenched two handfuls of her gown, and let go. "If you wish."

"We carried out the prelate's orders, as far as we could. All exit permits were cancelled. Of those already in force, most holders have returned to the tunnels. Section leaders have done head counts, and it seems that most--,"

"Who's missing?" Ahma interrupted.

"A hunting party."

"Hasi's gang."

"Yes," Betalamet continued, "but he wasn't with them. He's never come back, not since he left last quarter."

She nodded while looking at no one. Her face was cast down, dappled with lamplight, and she seemed to forget they were there until the patrol leader coughed. Then she said, "Fine."

"We haven't needed to break up any meetings. I expect the news of commander Sesom's arrival is spreading. Probably your rivals will hold back, just to see what might happen. It would help if the Commander could address the people as soon as possible. At the next forum...?"

Tarne thought he heard her reply, but couldn't be sure.

"Lady?" Betalamet asked.

"I said yes!" she snapped. "But leave us for now."

"If you could give me a time--,"

"I'll call you."

"Perhaps I should arrange some food, if you'll be--"

"I will call you!" she shouted.

Betalamet glanced at Tarne then, but the Ilaon did nothing to help. So the guards left. Their footsteps, echoing off the walls, became quieter and quieter. Only after the noise was gone, did Ahma lift her head and sigh.

"Will you punish me now," she asked, "or later?"

Tarne frowned. "I was going to ask if we might sit down."

She waved at the other seats. "But don't expect me to be polite. It's too late for that."

"Why too late?" Tarne took the chair beside hers. "I don't understand."

She put her face in her hands. "You are commander Sesom. You know the things people keep secret."

Unobserved, Tarne and Lor-Soven exchanged incredulous looks. But when Lady Ahma looked up, her eyes were clearly pleading for a response. Tarne gave her a slow nod. He hoped it made him look wise, but would leave her wondering. How could he use her feelings, confusing though they were, to learn more?

"Lady," he said finally, "I don't always punish. I sometimes forgive."

Lady Ahma didn't respond. Tarne waited. He did not pressure her with eye contact, but pretended to be interested in the drapery on his chair. Eventually he said, "Tell me what you want most." And he heard her begin to weep.

"Tell me," he urged.

Between sobs she murmured, "Freedom...just freedom."

He looked at her then. She was using a pleat from her dress to wipe away tears.

"Just like the Bormu," she tried again. "They waited for you to free them from this world, but I waited to be set free from the Bormu."

Tarne leaned forward, took one of her wet hands in both of his. It set off a violent fit of crying.

"Make her gown tidy," he told Lor-Soven. His nephew came and knelt down and fussed over the panels of fabric. He had no trouble remembering a formation. Tarne wondered if he were thinking about another wedding, one that never happened. He turned Ahma's pleats beautifully. They looked like waves breaking against her.

"I never believed in you," she said once she was calmer. "But I had to pretend I did. When you are daughter of the Bormu leader, you have to be more devout than devout. Everyone watches you, and everyone finds a complaint." Tarne said nothing, only stroked her hand. "But then father – Her-Bi – was approached secretly by the prelate of Usalm. He is Ilaon; he wants to revive Ilaon religion, to make it the way it was in your day. That way, the Bormu could come out of hiding."

"And yet this prelate seems to want you hidden now, if I understand Betalamet correctly."

"I don't know what has changed. He says we could be in danger."

"He doesn't describe it?"

Ahma shook her head. "I asked, but he hasn't replied. He won't tell me when I will see...," She broke down again.

"See?" he prompted her. "When you will see...?"

"The city, the city," she wailed. "The first time I saw the city...it was so beautiful." She worked to steady her breathing. Lor-Soven asked if he could look in the adjoining rooms for a drying cloth, and Tarne let him.

"Father took me," Ahma explained. "He offered me as a gift to the prelate, and the prelate gave me to his son. We were going to be married. I was going to live in Usalm for the rest of my life." She took her hand away from him, shook her head. "But it's all gone wrong. Was Father weak?" she asked him. "Some say that. Some say worse. He only wanted to make the Bormu less isolated, less strange. He wanted to move them out of these awful tunnels. Would that have made you angry, Commander?"

Tarne pretended to consider this. "I don't see why."

She pointed through the entrance, to the stone barricade. "But that's why I have so many guards. Betalamet declared me leader when father died--,"

"When did he die?"

She looked surprised. "The fire. Didn't you see?" Tarne sat back. "They burned him in his house. They would have burned me too, except I was here."

"Who is they?"

Ahma shrugged. "I was hoping you would know."

"I'm sorry for what you've been taught," Tarne said, "but I don't know everything."

Ahma smiled. "It's all right. I prefer you that way."

"Who do you think 'they' might be?"

"The Bormu are made from fear. They fear everyone outside the tunnels but that's never been enough. To make up the shortfall, they also fear each other."

Lor-Soven returned with a cloth. "There are still stairs to the lookout," he told his uncle.

"Of course," Ahma replied. "That's why you were brought here."

"To see the view?" Tarne asked.

"To use the artifact." And when Tarne shook his head, she added, "Help me up."

They gathered her train and Ahma led them through to the room behind reception. It was much plainer, with less light, more like they remembered. "We were taught," she explained, "that Arnor brought it here after you'd gone. And when you returned, you would need to use it."

At the back of the room was an archway leading to narrow stone steps. Tarne and Lor-Soven would have been able to climb them easily. But for the lady to come, one of them had to precede her and one follow to help with the dress. Lor-Soven managed to carry a lamp as well.

They ascended in a spiral that drilled its way up inside the solid heart of Mount So. It became darker and darker. Tarne was bent low so he could feel for each new step, and for a while all they had was the sound of their breathing. Lor-Soven kept count as they climbed. He announced the one hundredth step, after which each one became broader and flatter until the final one stretched out before them like a platform.

On their right, there were the same oblong slats had been cut through the stone to show the night sky outside. Lor-Soven, obeying old habit, put the lamp on the floor to hide its light. And he spotted the object first, against the far wall. He pointed, and Tarne looked. It rested on its own plinth.

"Well," Tarne said, and went closer. The screen was dusty, but otherwise it seemed well preserved. He remembered the first time he saw it: Arnor all but jumping with excitement, and stammering more than usual as he explained how critical it might be to send messages from his workshop to the Control Room of the first ship. Tarne had listened politely. He even helped with testing. Then the ship launched and they presumed the link was gone, moved out of range.

How wrong they were. Tarne touched the screen, and it filled with Ilaon characters.

"In case you don't know," he heard Ahma say, "you are supposed to call down your ship now, and take us all away."

"Am I?"

The bride came alongside him. "Everyone believes you will take them to a better place, where you took the other Ilaons."

Tarne shut his eyes. A breeze came through from outside, scented with tamish sap. He felt greedy breathing it. "And what about you?" he asked.

"If you took everyone else, then I'd be free."

He nodded, but not because he agreed. Coming back here—of course he hadn't imagined it possible. And so there was no way to prepare himself for the feelings that had started to lay themselves over him like clothing. He felt like he did one thousand years ago, with the responsibility for the people pressed down on his shoulders. He felt the weight of the Bormu and the weight of all the sleeping ones in orbit.

"But surely," he said, "they will need their leader to gather them, bring them on board."

"You are their leader now."

He felt that too. So much feeling. "And will they believe in me, if you don't?"

Ahma touched his arm. "Please let me go."

"I need to think."

"Can't you find a way—,"

"I need to think," he repeated sternly. He walked away from the artifact, stood at one of the openings. He gazed at the land, his land, land that should have been a joy to see again. Instead he was burdened. Wasn't it horribly unfair, how others could walk away and leave, while he always ended up fixing things? Soothing people, reasoning with them, finding compromises...yes, it was true he was good at it. But didn't good people deserve a rest?

Of course an idea came to him anyway. He wanted to curse it, except it was so elegant and suited so many purposes.

"How much time do we have?" he asked the girl. "When will Betalamet expect me to speak to the rest of the Bormu?"

"We have a forum every morning," she replied.

"Lor-Soven," he called. "Come lift the Lady."

His nephew tried, but Ahma slapped away his hands. "What are you doing?!"

"He's going to place you inside one of these openings."

"Why?"

"To set you free," Tarne explained.

"Are you mad? If you push me through there, I'll fall to my death."

"Not if I put something in the way," Tarne said. Then he returned to the artifact and created the message. He was aware how bizarre his words would sound when they were read. Mab might ignore it, decide the whole thing was a system malfunction. On the other hand, that's how they'd dealt with the last messages they'd received. Perhaps this was how they would atone for past mistakes.

"Come down to Mount So," the text read, "circle the summit until you see yellow. Then approach. We will rescue a bride."

## CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

"Come down to Mount So," the text read, "circle the summit until you see yellow. Then approach. We will rescue a bride."

Mab wept. He never thought he'd be pushed to a point where he couldn't control how he felt, at least enough to function. But he cried so hard he couldn't read the screens in the Control Room, let alone reply. Instead, he stumbled out into the long corridor. He got in the mehltrom, took it to his section of residences, and entered his quarters.

His wife wasn't there. She wasn't in Medical, or the laundry or any of the feeding stations. By that time his tears had dried up with panic. He went up to the Observation Room and down to the storage bays. Finally he asked the screens for the location of all entrance walls that had been opened recently, and found the anomaly. He went back to the residences, but chose a different room.

It was hard to be angry, but he tried. "Bel-lat," he said firmly, as he stared at the two of them on the bench.

His wife had no chance to reply. Ramis, Soren's mother, stood and pointed a finger at him. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare speak to her like that."

"But you," he said, "hiding...,"

"You always follow orders, Mab," Ramis interrupted, "no matter what the consequences. Well, I am one of those consequences, so I hope you're ready." She folded her arms.

His wife wiped her face with her hand. "Mab," Bel-lat tried, "I had too--,"

"She was lonely," Ramis broke in. "Is that so unusual? All alone on a ship full of her sleeping friends and relatives? So she woke me. Who is going to understand a woman who's lost her daughter, except a woman who has lost her son?"

Mab was overwhelmed, reminded of the message that had just come to the Control Room. He started to cry again, and his wife came to hold him. Ramis just went on regardless.

"Is there no end to the injustice commander Sesom will serve us? How dare he keep us all asleep, keep us ignorant. When we left Omri, we never realized we were losing one persecuting tyrant to gain another. But isn't that how it is? Mab?"

Mab had his head buried in Bel-lat's neck, and hers in his. He was trying to get his composure back so he could speak, so he could tell her.

"And what he did to us, to our poor children," Ramis wailed, "he might as well have killed us all. It would have been less painful. Oh Soren--,"

Now they all wept. And it was powerfully comforting, to hear the sadness. Ramis worked her way into their embrace, and they stayed huddled together for ages. Then finally, Mab felt he could speak.

"They've found Trena."

Both women gasped. "Where?" asked Bel-lat

Mab shook his head. "We've received a message."

"From Arnor?" Ramis asked.

"Arnor? No, it must be from the other ship," Mab said. "Commander David wants us to come down to Mount So."

"This new commander," Ramis asked, "is he kind?"

Mab shrugged. "I haven't had much opportunity to find out."

"If he saves our daughter," Bel said, "he must be good."

"If he saved our daughter," Mab warned her, "he'll want to know where she came from, and how many others we haven't told him about."

"I say we take that risk," Soren's mother replied. "He'll soon see. We're no threat to him, we're just families who want a safe home. I'll tell him what was done to my son."

"I'm going back to the Control Room," Mab pulled himself out of his wife's arms.

"We want to come with you," Ramis said. So did his wife. Mab was about to forbid them, out of habit. It was one impulse he could control, and he walked away with the women following.

***

When Demos approached the camp at the edge of the forest, it was dark and he assumed his brother and uncle had burrowed under nohen trees to sleep. Then he saw the abandoned shoes, just one pair. And there were footprints, too many footprints. His uncle's voice, which had trained him since he was carried into the mountains as a small boy, was quick to come back from memory and tell him what to do.

'Never linger in a suspicious place. Move and keep moving.'

So he ran deep into the woods, going back the way they had come. It was hard work in the dark. There was no clear path; ren sprang out of their holes and trees loomed up suddenly. His legs were tired but he pushed himself, until he came out on the road that led to the ruined trading post. He found the place they had camped, two partial walls that met, and he put himself in that corner. He sat watching and listening until he felt satisfied he was alone. Then he lay down and slept.

Voices woke him.

"From the city? They don't wear clothes like that."

"Only a follower of Her-Bi would know."

"I am not!"

"So what is he, then?"

"He's one of the Amosis people, the ancestors, come down from the cliffs."

"Why? Where are his hunting things?"

"Whatever he is, he's ours."

Demos opened his eyes, saw five young men standing immediately in front of him and the legs of several more behind. They'd come from the river. Their clothes were wet and they carried dripping traps that crawled with li and pinchers. "Hello," said the shortest one, who stood near his head. "This is a good day for you. You've met the Select. And you can join us."

Demos sat up carefully. He couldn't see anyone carrying weapons, but he knew the picks they used to get pincher meat from the shell could do damage.

"I'm sorry," he said, "if I've trespassed."

"What a strange accent!" someone said.

"I told you he wasn't from the tribes," came another voice from the back.

"Where are you from?" asked the short one who had greeted him.

"Here," he said. But the young men obviously didn't like that answer.

"He's from Usalm. He's one of the prelate's spies."

"No," Demos replied.

"Then where are you from?" the short one asked again.

"A ship."

"A ship?"

"That came from space. We left Omri, and now we are back."

"Sesom's ship?" someone else asked.

"Yes," Demos said, and felt a little hopeful.

"How convenient," the short one squatted so they were eye to eye. He had a scar that ran into his hair. "We would do anything to find that ship. We are the Select, the faithful. We belong to that ship."

Demos shifted his back against the old stone walls, but it wasn't possible to move away. "Belong?"

"If you could take us to that ship...,"

"It's not here," he told them, "not--,"

"Also convenient," the short one interrupted. His eyes narrowed, and he stood up. "I agree. He's a spy. And he picked the wrong place to sleep."

They tied his arms behind his back and covered his head. In the absence of anything good to think about, Demos wondered if they might take him to Lor-Soven and Tarne, so he could at least have their company.

***

There was more. More! But Hasi didn't wake Sesom. He lay on the floor of the cave, holding himself tight because it seemed he might explode. Joy surged as strong as the first hour after he set fire to the house.

But Sesom must have sensed a change, because when Hasi did decide to roll over and look into the sleeping hole, he realized his friend had already climbed out, and sat on the other side, watching him.

"It happened," Hasi's voice shook.

"I know," Sesom replied. "You were talking in your sleep."

Hasi stood, and saw how his legs trembled. "Oh father," he gasped.

"Tell me," Sesom got up too and came to him. "Tell me what you saw."

"I thought I was still awake," Hasi said.

"Just like me." The visitor touched his arm.

"There was a light outside that puzzled me--I knew it shouldn't be there. So I came to the mouth of the cave, and saw it was dark. And yet the sun was out. It passed directly over my head. It moved like a space ship, leaving a trail of fire behind it. I thought it was going south, but in truth it was coming straight down. Right in front of me." He looked at his friend. "Like you stand here."

Sesom took Hasi by the hand and led him out to the ledge. They stood for a long time in the night, not speaking.

"Did you dream the same?" Hasi whispered.

Sesom's only response was to tighten his grip.

"Right here," Hasi pointed down the slope. "Everything on fire. And in the fire were faces. So many faces. I didn't know who they were but I knew they expected me. Feared me. When they talked, it was about whether I was coming, and what I would do."

Hasi found it hard to breathe. Sesom faced him, laid a free hand across his chest and pressed against the ribs to help him exhale.

"People are waiting for me," Hasi gasped. Sesom nodded, and pressed his ribs again. "After the fire, they wait. Why? Surely they wait for commander Sesom."

Sesom steered him back into the cave. He made Hasi lie down, and lay down facing him. He continued to regulate breathing with his hands by pressing and counting: one to four in – one to four out.

"What...what should I do?" Hasi asked. But his new friend seemed completely taken up with counting. One, two, three, four...and it was too dark to see his face.

"The last thing...," Hasi said, "the fire touched me. Right where you..." But he found it hard to keep his head up, or his eyes open. His nose bumped against Sesom's cheek. "Did you--?"

And then he could feel it. Sesom trembled.

"Yes? The fire." Hasi reached out. He was not sure if he embraced Sesom, or Sesom embraced him. But they were forehead to forehead.

"Fire is my power," Hasi murmered. And he gave a little laugh.

"Breathe," Sesom reminded him.

"Fire," Hasi gasped, "fire is my power over Her-Bi. Over the Bormu, over Usalm."

"Breathe," Sesom insisted. "One, two, three, four."

Hasi obeyed. They were close enough to feel their lungs swell and sink, and the warmth of every place they touched. The cave was black as oblivion. But Hasi saw pictures in the dark, vivid pictures, of all the things that needed to burn.

## CHAPTER FORTY

Down in the valley, Usalm was not a city that had shut down for the night. As David and Koda flew nearer they saw potted fires, like kettle barbecues, burning on top of the walls. Teams of citizens had spaced themselves along the battlements, where they fastened and unfurled streaming banners that went all the way to the ground, outside and in. There was traffic on the road going south, and a market doing trade around the gate they entered.

As they continued up the street, heading to the center, Koda said, "You should learn one more thing, before we start our search."

The street had banners too. They flew from windows and trees. Small versions were carried by children, who surprised David for being awake so late. They played in the road while adults milled in the doorways of houses.

"All this for a conference," David remarked.

The street widened and finally opened out to become a massive public space. The older volax swooped low and landed on the branch of a tree. It had a manicured canopy and grew inside a white tub. And the tub was just one of many that marked out the perimeter of the space.

"What you need to do," Koda explained, "now that you've imagined being something else, is to imagine being nothing."

David argued that it wasn't possible. Koda gave in, but only reluctantly. "Let's try a more gradual approach. Start by trying to be air." And he added a proviso, that it would be the sort of air that could pass through bodies.

"Because I've seen you walk through walls. But you still react to some objects and people as if you and they could not share the same space. This is an old idea—and only useful when you need to carry something. Otherwise, you must learn new habits. You cannot disturb a person any more than you disturb a wall."

This was the theory. Practice, David found, was a little harder. He imagined becoming a breeze and let himself drop out of the tree and waft round the square. He felt the magpie shape go.

Koda followed and urged him to practice with fallen leaves. "Because they're so delicate. If you can pass through without making them move, you're ready."

But it took a few hours. He was more like a small whirlwind to start with, graduating to a stage where the leaves didn't fly about but trembled. As the sun rose on the city he clinched it, but only when he realized that his best attempts were the ones where the experience made him forget what he was doing. To enter the structure of a leaf, pass through the cells like they were rooms storing fibrous bundles he could examine minutely or open up – amazed him. What a sight! If he could have learned biology this way, it would have been his favorite subject.

Once he was confident he was also restless, and asked if he could look for other targets. Koda told him to go anywhere he liked. The square was surrounded by elegant white buildings. One had light leaking through the closed shutters. He went there, passed through the wall as nothing and found a room full of people. They sat round a table fixing small mirrors into the weave of an orange quilt.

Yet in spite all the practice, his first attempt was clumsy. The nearest woman gasped when he plunged inside her, and dropped the work she'd been doing. He stopped a moment between her heart and lungs, waited until they both stopped moving so much. Thoughts arrived. But they weren't his. He had a clear image of someone he'd never seen before, but he knew the person's name was Selhim.

And he understood that the woman was talking about this man. He was her late father, and she missed him. She blamed the strange sensation on him. That got the rest of the room talking. He decided to pass through them all as quickly as possible so there wouldn't be time to think.

The result left him stunned. He learned so much. He now knew they were preparing for a wedding. He got the name of the groom but not the bride. He knew the cloth they sewed would join the others on top of the city walls. Their group was running late; a few expected to finish work on this banner after it was taken to location. The man at the head of the table was also in charge of decorations in the square. He was anxious about how he would manage.

David also understood there were two languages being spoken. The woman whose father was Selhim spoke both. In one language she explained her belief that he visited her, and sometimes gave her a stomach ache. In the other, she remarked to the man beside her that no doubt the rest of them would think she was crazy. And they did.

He rushed back outside, intending to thank Koda. But the other volax was no longer in the square. David made a quick search, wandered down some adjoining streets. Still nothing. He changed himself into a magpie again and perched in the potted tree where they first landed. And he waited.

While he was there a small aircraft arrived, like the ones that had swarmed the scene of the fire. It hovered over the square before choosing a place on the north side where the buildings were large and looked impressive. It touched down gently, cut its engines. Then the pilot got out. She stood by the tail of her craft and seemed to be waiting for someone as well.

Eventually she was approached by a man who walked out from between the buildings. He patted the fuselage affectionately and said something to her. A conversation started. It had David itching with curiosity, so he left the tree, became invisible, circled the pair twice to work up speed and then dove through the clothes and skin of the man. He noted, with satisfaction, that there was no reaction.

And right away he could picture the street plan of the entire city, courtesy of his hos. He saw all the radial roads that went away from the square and the gates, the markets, the connecting avenues and alleys. The man listened more than talked. He seemed to be planning the route he would take in the craft later.

The female pilot was describing a situation at the east wall, where food sellers had set up without permission. Because they fed the volunteers who were trying their best to dress up the decay, she didn't shut them down. She made them share a fire, and nominate a warden.

There was more, but the man was distracted. He was trying to decide whether to fly out of Usalm, to check the road that went to the mountains. David was confused. The picture he got was a deserted track, not much more than packed dirt. Why would it need inspection?

As soon as David thought it, the man questioned himself. What were the chances, he reasoned, that any of the Bormu were going to crawl out of their holes? Quiet, they'd been, before and since the fire. Utterly quiet. Only the--,

Then David caught his fleeting impression. It may have been all his host had got at the time, a glance as he'd flown past on an earlier shift. But he had been patrolling when some people were arrested on the road. David tried posing more questions – how many? What did they look like? He didn't get much. Just a healthy skepticism from the man, because he'd heard a rumor that one of the Bormu they caught wore a wedding dress. Not likely!

Eventually the man and woman had to wrap up their talk, say goodbye and change places. David switched too. He followed the female pilot and got under her skin.

She was pregnant. It caused complete distraction; he didn't listen to her thoughts or notice the direction she walked, not right away. He bounced up and down, face to face with her fetus in its fluid, utterly captivated.

By the time he reminded himself why he was doing all this in the first place, the pilot had passed by the palatial building on the north of the square and gone behind it. Here there was another, smaller square. And it struck him as a preserved area, where slight dereliction was tolerated for sentimental reasons. The building the pilot entered reminded him of a barn: mud walls, timber uprights, dirt floor.

The pilot wasn't pleased to be there but she had to give a message to Brosomis. This Brosomis stood just inside the entrance, already in conversation with someone else. Her voice had that cadence of authority, and she wore more elaborate clothes. David went to her.

That's when he got a result. Brosomis was outlining the wedding ceremony with the same assured tone he might have used with a customer, to make them believe everything was fine. But her thoughts betrayed her. There was going to be a hoax. Everyone who witnessed this marriage would think they knew the bride. And Brosomis was grateful for the Ilaon tradition, which covered the woman in so much cloth and jewelry and stood her on a platform away from the guests and her husband. Back in her home, in Pree (he saw a man and woman face to face, closely circled by loved ones) it was more intimate. You couldn't hope to play the same kind of trick.

And she repeatedly pictured an Ilaon female in a billowing yellow dress, who sat dejectedly in the corner of a room and talked to herself. David recognized her. She'd been the mystery girl in the images Brahm had, the images that included Cha Cha. So he stayed while Brosomis finished talking, received the message from the pregnant pilot and dismissed her. Then she took herself into a small adjacent room. She opened a shutter and looked out on the street.

He waited, though she didn't do much thinking for a while. She was tired and needed to feel breeze on her face. He tried what had worked with the man in the square, and broadcast his own wish to see the bride. Just once—he hoped it would sound like one of those inner voices, coaxing--just to make sure she was all right.

Brosomis resisted, and argued back that she'd only be asleep. And she admitted that frankly, the bride's cellmate made her nervous. David shook his head when he saw how she pictured Cha Cha. That'd be her, he thought.

Perhaps this confirmation pleased her, because this grey haired woman left her resting place and walked through to the back of the barn, where there were a few guarded cells. She took him right to their door.

***

Another quiet day on board – Shamana Vavnu wasn't tired of them yet. But she would have liked to know where everyone was, and what was happening. Brahm had been his normal self lately; she took that as a good sign. He was fascinated by the branches and leaves David left behind. She had to accompany him to the laboratories so he could examine them. It led to many discussions about the structure and function of trees, the many uses for wood, bark, sap, nuts, fruit. He learned the advantages of shade, windbreaks and the difference between trees that shed their leaves and those that didn't. She even ventured outside, under cover of darkness, to steal one of the cut logs so he could see the pattern of rings and guess the age of their specimen.

They kept a slice of that stump. The rest was cut to pieces by the lasers in Medical, and they were taking it back to his room. She had promised to show him how to carve. She was thinking it might be safe to let him handle a knife, for a little while, but he refused. He went straight to bed.

"It's coming," he said. "I can feel it."

So she set the wood aside and waited by his head, watched his eyes darken. He lay on his back with his elbows bent and his hands hovering just below his chin. The fingers twitched.

-I AM TREE-

Vavnu raised her eyebrows with interest. Allegory – this would be challenging.

"What sort of tree?" she asked.

-SMALL-

His hands came up slightly, wrists together to make the trunk, and fingers curled into a canopy.

-DEEP ROOTS-

"I see," she said.

-HIDING PLACE-

"Hiding?"

-WE PROTECT-

"Protect who?"

-NOHEN. I AM NOHEN-

And that was all. Brahm dropped his hands on his chest, closed his eyes and slept. She hoped when he woke he might have dreamed more, so they could make sense of it.

## CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Soren, it's awful here. Do you think Usalm is worse now than when we left?

You would remember – you were old enough to be taught. You studied with other boys—I don't remember all their names. But two died. They died, and your tutor blamed you. I was younger, but I remember mother and father were just as worried about the water. They were boiling it.

I miss them, Soren. I wanted to marry you—I still want to marry you. But now we are here, locked inside this room that smells of old grass. People come to talk with us; I thought that was good at first. Now I fear they are just tormenting us, which is worse than being asleep. What if we can't return to my mother, or yours? What if commander Da-Vid takes the ship away? Because it is his ship now. He doesn't know what happened to us. You can be sure Sesom never told him.

From within her, David could see Soren as clearly as Trena could imagine him. Handsome might be a matter of culture, but Soren was built on a strong skeleton and held himself that way. Whether his eyes normally shone so much -- this was more likely a girl's fantasy. Soren held out a hand, so she stopped speaking. Then his voice continued the story.

I'd tell Da-Vid, if I had the chance. And if I could, if there was a way, I'd take him to meet Arnor. Because Sesom was so tiresome, always saying, 'My brother isn't normal. My brother has been ill since he was born.' But there was nothing wrong with Arnor. Arnor saw more, heard more, tasted more and felt more. If everything in the world could pass by an ordinary Ilaon, he would remember only a handful of things. Arnor would remember it all.

And so you didn't shout near Arnor or make him join war games. You didn't wear bright colored clothes. He was experiencing the world and that was enough. You had to be careful how much you added to that experience. He liked it if you sat near him quietly, and waited until he felt ready to talk.

But he would help anyone he could, and he would hurt himself to do that. Does Sesom know he took no wages during the time the first ship was constructed? He agreed this with Yga, and you know Yga was only a quarter Ilaon. They made a deal – Yga could keep his wages. He could keep all the technical data Arnor received in his visions. In return, Yga did not report him to Gylot, or to Gylot's troops who were looking for Illaons in hiding. He kept his mouth shut.

So it was an extremely important agreement, and Yga could have broken it. He did business with relatives of Gylot in Usalm – what if they had found out about the ship? And he had family across the sea in Wes, who relied on his income.

Arnor built the second ship for Yga. Sesom hated this. All he could think about, all he could talk about was how Arnor could waste his time on some mixed people, when Ilaons were in danger. And Sesom wouldn't talk properly; he would march in, demand what he wanted and get impatient if he had to wait for the answer. Once he came in with blood on his clothes, FRESH blood, because he had to kill someone who tried to break into the tunnels. And he'd push the cloth under Arnor's nose, saying 'this is how close we are to destruction'.

I couldn't stand it, the suffering he caused. Sesom had to stop hurting, because it made his brother sick, and then he didn't have as many visions. So I told Tarne. At least Tarne would listen, and consider everything. And his decisions were usually wise.

But I should have prepared Arnor better. I should have taken him for a walk deep in the forest, because that cured even his worst headaches. When something is good, you think you can just give it, no matter what the circumstances. Not true. If you gave jewels to a man in terrible pain, he'd probably throw them away. Arnor was exhausted. So he talked less, even to me, and this made things worse. Even Tarne began to think Arnor was unreasonable. Sesom began to think he'd become the enemy

Of course, they didn't say it that way. When I met Tarne again, his words were, 'we must find the kindest way to take this out of his control'.

Trena, I will never forgive myself. Arnor can forgive me forever, if he wants, but it won't change my mind.

You know how it went, after that. Tarne gave me instructions, how to keep it all secret. I took Arnor on the longest walk we'd ever taken—several days' journey. We went north through the pass and along the Amosis ridge. He'd always wanted to see the place where ancient Ilaons still lived their peculiar lives and kept their peculiar religion. I could show off my knowledge of history.

We found maybe a hundred people there, still making homes in the cliffs where the wind had drilled its way inside. The old women were busy mixing strange liquids, scraping the walls to get minerals to make ochre dye. But they couldn't waste it on wedding dresses--it was sacred. They soaked wooden beads in it, then left the beads to dry. Only certain people were permitted to wear those beads. We sat and watched them work, and Arnor seemed content.

Then he fell into trance. I was able to catch him, so he wasn't hurt. The women saw it and stopped what they were doing. They gathered round, pointed at his eyes. And they thanked me, in their dialect, for bringing the presence of Ahm-Lat to them. I tried to answer politely, but I was afraid. What would Ahm-Lat need to tell him now? I was sure my deception would be revealed; Arnor would know I lured him away from the factory so that he could not interfere with the launch.

Eventually, word got round to the entire tribe about us. The women brought out every cloth they'd got from traders, or ren furs they'd sewn together. They made sure Arnor was protected from the chill as the sun went down. They made me eat though I wasn't hungry. When Arnor woke he was weak and one of the women fed him by dipping her finger in soup and wiping it on his lips. No one talked or made him talk. They helped us into one of the caves and we stayed all night.

Next morning, when I woke, Arnor was gone. At first I panicked, climbed all over the ridge calling his name and searching for him in the caves. But I found him in the forest, surrounded by the women. They were fitting him with a choker. And I remember the beads: they knotted them into a length of tangled thread so that one sat at the base of his throat, one on either side of his neck and one at the back. Each bead had been carved into a symbol: a torch, a pincher, a bat and a nohen tree. If I'd been happier I might have told him what they meant. But as it was, I sat and waited for him to tell me I was no longer his friend.

Instead, the first thing he did was take my hand and hold it. "Have I kept you too long?" he wanted to know. "Will you still have time to get back to Mount So, and board the ship?"

So you see, not only had Ahm-Lat told him about the launch, but he'd revealed how Sesom would make a brief descent to collect me from the ledge of his cave. And yet Arnor didn't hate me; he worried about you! He wanted to be sure I wasn't left behind, because it would break your heart.

"It has to happen this way," he said. "But I didn't understand that any better than you."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"What it takes to see things," he said.

I wasn't sure if this was an answer, but I was afraid to ask. Eventually he added, "I thought it would be soon. I thought everything I saw would happen soon. But soon will not work."

"And so what should I do?"

"You've got to go."

"I've got to take you back to the factory first."

But he didn't want that. He told me not to worry about him any more. "I have work to do here," he said. He told me I should worry about you. Did I worry enough?

David felt like he did when he watched his own funeral from the Observation Room. He knew there was strong feeling happening all around him, but it was nothing to do with him. This was the closest he could get, sitting inside Trena's stomach while it contracted and filled with acid, sensing her muscles tense and tear ducts open.

You did your best, Soren.

No, I was stupid. I was impulsive -- every name your father ever called me.

That's not true.

In Trena's mind, the image of Soren moved away.

But what if I hadn't rebelled? he asked.

You didn't--

On a ship, in a closed space, it's different. To question the commander's authority, to try and make him admit error...I might as well have tried to kill him.

I was ready to kill for you.

And because of that you were put to sleep. You were the first, and everyone else followed.

He left you behind! The day before our wedding—he forced you out onto a strange planet and left you behind!

And what if I'd kept my mouth shut? What if I'd been more like Mab? We'd be husband and wife now.

The image of Soren faded. Trena wiped her face, lay down on the floor of her cell with her eyes open. Her mind was blank, apart from the pain.

David decided to leave. Not far away, Cha Cha was fast asleep, her head resting on her backpack. He hovered over her briefly to assure himself she was fine. Then he left. He passed through the prison wall and made his way to the front of the building so he could get back to the city square.

On the way, he infiltrated the minds of a parade of men who were going the same direction. Each carried what looked like pieces for a large puzzle. This was their third round trip from the north gate where the parts had been made. And when he got to the front, the leader was gauging the color of the morning sky and asking himself, was it too early? Their orders had been to start work at dawn.

Then they marched into the square, and laid their pieces in front of the large building on the north side. The leader checked the building for any open shutters, any signs of activity within. Then he started to shout out assembly instructions.

David whirled away. He toured the potted trees round the perimeter of the square. He found no bats there, only citizens of Usalm in the branches, draping them with more pretty cloth.

He began to make excuses for what he couldn't know. After all, Koda wasn't obliged to wait for him. They never did discuss how much help David would be given, and what he had got was invaluable. It was just a pity, because his craving to learn was partly satisfied but he still had cravings. He suspected the older volax could teach him more.

"I like to see history in the making," Koda had said. So where would he go?

David circulated among the trees, to visit the minds of the decorators. Their thoughts were sleep deprived, fragmented, interrupted with memories of previous weddings. But they helped him understand that the large building to the north was the prelate's palace. The structure being built in front of it was a platform for the bride. She would come from that building, along with a number of titled people.

He learned the Ilaon word for 'emperor', and it clinched his decision. Unseen, he floated past the construction crew, up the broad steps that fronted the palace and went inside.

## CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Dear Nemo,

You'll remember how, in a previous episode of this life, Trena and Cha Cha were under arrest. They were not able to plead our case because Cha Cha did not speak Ilaon and Trena was bonkers.

This sad situation didn't last long. It got worse. Shortly after our arrival, for no reason I could figure out, Trena got visitors--some old guy and a middle-aged woman who might have been a therapist. But she was no good. She let Trena talk for hours and even I could tell, with my limited language, that she was just yapping about Soren and weddings.

On the next visit, the therapist brought fabric swatches. All of them were yellow with embroidery and beads. They spent the whole time comparing Trena's mucky old dress with those pretty pieces. What good would that do? Got her too worked up. After that, she was really down. She wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep--just sat and stared at the walls.

Then, early this morning, we were woken up by more strangers and they took Trena away. No clue when or if she'd be back. You can imagine how I felt. I seriously thought of trying a hunger strike.

But at my darkest hour (I was missing Auntie Mai, if you can believe it) who should come walking through the wall but David! Never thought I would be so glad to see the beautiful zombie. He asked me what happened, how I was, whether I was being fed well, etc. It took me that much conversation before I realized what was making me shake my head while we talked. And I said, "Hang on. Am I dreaming of you?"

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you're speaking Cantonese."

"I am," he said. He wasn't smug; I guess that's another emotion he doesn't feel anymore. "I want to help you escape."

"OK," I said, "but you could do that in English. I wouldn't mind."

By that time the guards spotted him, and rushed into the cell with their bayonets. So then (this is cool) David turned into a firewall. He burned right up to the roof without igniting anything, but OMG the guards were ready to use their weapons on themselves, that's how petrified they were.

David just kept talking to them, politely and firmly, in ILAON. Couldn't help but be impressed. The guards groveled and pleaded until he put the fire out and looked more human. After that they escorted us out of the prison.

We left through the back of the building, where there was a yard for parking all the little aircraft the police use. The guards let David take one. And simple as you like, he launched it and took us straight up and over the city. Then we leveled out and flew over the walls, past the river and towards the mountains.

Now if all that happened to you in say, twenty minutes, would you have time to think about it? Me neither. We were flying over the road where Trena and I were arrested before I realized how bizarre my rescue was.

"You've...um, changed." I said.

"Yes," David replied. But he didn't take the hint that I wanted to know more. I wondered how it all worked, being volax, where all the knowledge and power came from. Be weird if it just happened – one minute you couldn't speak Chinese, next minute you could. Or could he pick it up from me? That much power seemed a little creepy. I wondered if volax could ever, you know, get carried away with it.

And then we veered away from the road, going up with the mountain. We came in sight of the clearing where the ship had landed. I sighed and said, "Thank god." David said nothing. And the little spacecraft carried on.

"Where are we going?"

David said there wasn't time to explain, but we needed to do this for my safety. I nodded. I wasn't scared exactly but I would have preferred a little time in familiar surroundings. We flew over several more mountains without speaking.

Then I said, "Is Brahm okay?"

David looked at me oddly. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking about what happened the last time I left."

David, being a zombie, can give you plenty of blank looks. I don't know why I thought this was one too many.

"I haven't checked," he said "but I will."

***

Mab made the descent successfully. He got through the clouds undetected, and directed the ship so the hold sank into the lookout openings on Mount So. Bel-Lat and Ramis went down to the hold so they could help Trena come through. Yet the first person who entered the ship was Lor-Soven, feet first. The women grabbed his ankles and pulled. Then they could see, just as Mab could from the screens, that he had his hands full of yellow fabric, the pleats of a wedding dress. It was Bel-Lat who noticed how new the cloth looked. But she didn't think more of it, because there was nothing to think, no other possibility.

***

As soon as his nephew and Lady Ahma were on board, Tarne turned away from the blue light and hurried down the stairs. It was to avoid the temptation to leave himself, though he didn't actually feel any. He felt bound again, bonded, and responsible. And there was a strange pleasure coming with that now.

When he arrived back in his reception room he went out to the barricade and asked the nearest guard to fetch Betalamet. As soon as the patrol leader arrived he was asked, "When will the daily forum begin?"

Betalamet looked round the empty room. "Fifteen, twenty degrees. Where is Lady Ahma?"

"I have detained her on my ship, for her own safety," Tarne replied. "Right now I want to speak with her enemies, in the order you think best."

***

"This isn't her!" Ramis cried.

Lor-Soven helped the strange girl to stand and tidied her dress. Mab could see from the monitor images that she was shaking.

"Where is Trena?" Ramis demanded. "That's who we want. Why have you brought us this girl – is this Sesom's idea of a joke?"

"Quiet," Bel-Lat told her friend. Lor-Soven looked confused. The girl began to cry.

"I think everyone should come to the Control Room," Mab broadcast his voice into the hold.

***

Tarne was taken back to the place where the three tunnels met, and then along the way leading to the east gate.

"Your only hope," Betalamet said, "Is this, I think. When Hasi was younger, he revered Her-Bi. If you could transfer that adoration--,"

"Give him a job with some responsibility?" Tarne suggested.

"Something...," the patrol leader spread the fingers on both hands, like he was trying to get a grasp on a problem too big for him. "Her-Bi was charmed at first, but got tired of the attention. Hasi is hard work."

"And his gang?"

"Young men with energy and no purpose."

"As soon as they return to the tunnels, I want to see them."

Betalamet nodded vigorously, and smiled.

***

Usalm. They forgot all their fears, all their worries and arguments when images of the city appeared on the screens. The walls, Mab agreed with his wife, had been rebuilt, and the gates made wider. Draperies in seven shades of warm streamed down the sides. And the streets were full of people dressed in the same colors: talking, dancing, eating.

Bel-Lat pulled Lady Ahma close. Everything made sense after Lor-Soven explained, and tears were tears. If she could not help her own daughter she would help this one. Then she saw the city square and gasped. "It's beautiful."

"It's what we've hoped for," Ramis said. "Is it peaceful there now?"

"Yes," said the bride.

"All this," Bel-Lat pointed to the platform and decorated trees, "for you."

Lady Ahma showed Mab which building was the prelate's palace. He had intended to camouflage the ship and bring it down just low enough to hover over that roof and help their passenger out of the hold. Now they were here, and the square was crowded with happy people. He could see how their faces, appearing on screen, agitated the women. And he had started to imagine the smell of flat cake, ever since he spotted a street vendor cooking. It filled his mouth with saliva.

Bel-Lat suggested it quietly. "It would be better, don't you think, if she didn't leave alone?"

She didn't want Ramis to hear and start nagging. But in the final moments of their descent, a cheer went up from the square. They couldn't hear it. The screens showed them open mouthed people who threw up their hands to wave and point. They couldn't see what had caused the excitement, but he knew they all wanted to know, badly. Mab asked the monitors to check all angles but they could only give him pictures of houses and sky.

He landed the hold on the roof. Then he turned to Lor-Soven and said, "Would you...," He was ashamed to finish the sentence but thankfully Tarne's nephew understood.

"It does feels like home," he said, and took Mab's place at the controls.

## CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

There was every possibility Koda was invisible too. If he had come to the prelate's palace, and read the minds of its people, would he leave a trace?

David started his search from the lowest level of the building, below ground where there were kitchens and storerooms and laundry. He worked methodically, room by room, one person to another. When he finished there he went up to the next floor, full of offices and reception rooms. Then he went to the highest level, where there were only private apartments

He met Brosomis again. She stood guard outside a closed door.

He settled with her a while. Her mind churned; she wanted the answer to one question: "What should we do with her when it's over?" Fierce opinions about Shilane followed, which were no surprise. Having just examined the thoughts of fifty two cooks, cleaners, waiters, secretaries and administrators, David could conclude they had one thing in common. On this wedding day, they all disliked the groom.

He left her to stew, and passed through the guarded door to discover Trena. She had been transformed, thanks to three people fussing over her hair and clothes. She wore a new dress. The cloth was obviously weighty with a saffron sheen, and inset with the same tiny mirrors he'd seen on the banners. The pleats filled the floor and piled up against the walls. He put himself behind her eyes.

Soren...

The young man she pictured wore yellow clothes too, a long tunic and leggings. He smiled when she spoke, but his face wasn't quite the same.

Soren...at last...

David left her quickly. On his way out, he slipped through the mind of her hairdresser, and that bloke knew. He wove strings of white and gold beads into her braids, making sure there were drooping strands around her ears, but he hadn't agreed to anything without a fight. He argued with the prelate, even went to Prince Musgyl, whoever that was. 'You can't do this to the poor girl,' he tried to tell them. 'She doesn't understand.'

But they sputtered out excuses, the way cornered politicians do. Things must go to plan, they said, mustn't do anything to upset the Emperor. Then the hairdresser said what he thought of the Emperor, and David added it to his list of Ilaon profanities.

And he went on. He passed through a series of interior walls in search of the important people who had been part of everyone else's thoughts. He found two of them in a corner suite, looking out at the finished platform.

"She'll be my wife," argued the younger.

"You've known her for minutes," the older replied.

"How long did you know mother?"

"Things were different then. Shilane, this makes a bad thing worse."

"She calls me Soren. She thinks that's who I am."

"We should never have bothered her."

"But we have."

"Then let's stop. Do no more damage."

"She begged me to make her pregnant."

The older man turned from the window and unwittingly stepped through David. "She shouldn't have children. It would be wrong."

"If it's wrong, then you started it."

David noticed the sharp pain this old man impressed on him, but the feeling was associated with more than one woman. He was making note of their faces when one of the secretaries entered. "Prelate, the Emperor and Prince Musgyl are waiting in your office."

The distraction was a relief. "I'll go there now," the prelate replied. But he was grabbed by the sleeve.

"I become a man today," his son leaned in close, "You won't be able to keep pushing me aside when I'm a problem. How long do you think--,"

"There's time to talk about that yet," Nahl-Ot spoke over him, with one eye on the secretary. "During a break in the banquet. We can come back here." He squeezed the hand that held him and pulled it off in the same motion. Then he left the room.

But David sensed rage coming from Shilane as they followed the servant all the way along the corridor, even as far as the stairs.

Prince Musgyl met the prelate halfway down. "He's in reasonable mood. And Brosomis tells me the night patrols had a quiet shift. Well done."

Both men entered the office in order of rank. They made hand gestures in obeisance to the Emperor, who received them seated. He was ironically small and pale. David left the prelate to take a closer look at his floor length coat. It was embroidered, he felt sure, with oriental dragons. That, or they were the same little flying creatures Koda imitated.

"Your Eminence," Nahl-Ot said, "we hoped to meet the Ha delegation."

"They are here," the emperor replied, "but not in the city. I received a message from their potentate. He is a man of business. He saw no need to arrive before the conference."

David got underneath that coat, and discovered a man with a blizzard of worries. He believed the prelate kept secrets. He thought the prince despised him (which was true). Back in his own country of Wes, there were four individuals who could just as easily become Emperor, if the right circumstances were arranged. The Emperor imagined their faces like carved stone, presiding in judgment each time he thought or spoke.

And if all this weren't enough, the Emperor also worried about the Ha. But who were they? David felt they had to be a group, perhaps a nation, going by the prelate's impression. And yet he couldn't get a mental picture from anyone.

The Emperor, when he thought of Ha, thought of sky. A summer sky with clouds, and every now and then the clouds formed words: 'we represent a trading network of twenty worlds.' or 'we commit to the prosperity of our allies' or 'our technology has no rival'. And so there must be people involved, powerful people. The Emperor had a lot of hope riding on them, hope that the Ha would dominate the conference, bolster his position, stop rumors about the decline of Wes.

Food was brought to the office. The conversation became polite and said so little for so long that David grew restless. He still had no idea where Koda had gone. He left through the open shutter nearby and went back to the square.

It was teeming. The pavement could hardly be seen for bodies, as more people tried to feed themselves into the crowd from the surrounding streets. An area near the bridal platform had been marked out with nothing more than a strip of cloth laid on the pavement, but the boundary was respected. The trees in their pots looked pretty but no creature was perched in the branches. David flitted over each one; he called Koda's name. People looked up in confusion, hearing noise but not able to see what made it.

He was nagged by one reservation, that he might be getting distracted, because his purpose for coming had been to rescue Cha Cha. It was a voice that hadn't needed to speak before. In the city square before dawn, his mind had been a quiet landscape where it was easy to focus. Now a new world had opened up. But this wasn't a place of strangers; it connected. He didn't quite know what he meant, except that Trena had started it. She'd crowded into his agenda. He might not have feelings but he had...connections. He was her commander, even if he hadn't known it.

Then the crowd let out a shout. Trena appeared in the doorway of the palace. Two attendants stepped out from behind her, carrying most of her dress. As they made their way down to the enclosure, David sailed over to meet them. He hovered at the bride's side, level with her flushed cheeks as she climbed the platform. Once at the top, her attendants made sure she was centered on the dais, checked her hair and jewelry. Then they dropped the pleats and let the lengths of fabric roll down the stairs. The crowd cheered this, and again when the women had adjusted them all to spread out evenly.

David didn't need to spend more time in Trena's head; she was clearly overjoyed at the spectacle. She waved to the crowd and laughed with her attendants. Perhaps it could work.

From behind the palace, patrollers came marching single file. They entered the enclosure to form a cordon along the cloth boundary. The next person to come out from the palace was Shilane, accompanied by his secretary, then the Emperor, the prince and the prelate. Finally Brosomis emerged with a group of minor dignitaries. Benches were carried outside by staff so all the officials could sit.

It was a peculiar ceremony. No one presided. The groom began by walking a slow circuit round the platform while the secretary laid an assortment of objects along the bottom step. When Shilane completed his orbit he stopped and faced the people in the square. They cheered him, waved small versions of the bright banners. This was allowed to go on for several minutes, and then out from their random noise David detected regular words, a chant.

"Who is this--who is this--who is this?"

The prelate stood, and the noise died away. The message spread backwards from the closest spectators until the whole square was quiet. Shilane took a deep breath, and projected his voice.

"This is the sun. This is the source of life. The center of all things becomes the center of me. And you are my witnesses."

The crowd replied. "We are."

And when they were quiet again, he added. "I ask you to accept us as husband and wife, to give her all honors due to me, and honor our children. Will you do this?"

The crowd again. "We will."

"Do you confirm it?"

"We do."

Shilane turned to his father. "What the people have joined is joined."

The prelate paused before he responded. "What the people have joined is joined."

General excitement erupted again. Those standing nearest the groom tossed their banners into the enclosure. He went to them, reached over the patrol cordon to clasp hands and speak. Trena buried her face in her hands; her attendants came running to her side with a cloth for her to dry her tears.

It looked like a successful proceeding all round, until the jubilation was cut dead by a scream.

It came from the palace. A second bride stood in the doorway. She hitched up her own skirts and ran outside, leaving her attendants to stumble after her. The prelate jumped from his seat. He wasn't fast, but neither was she. He intercepted her before she reached the platform, grabbed her tight so she screamed again. David took aim and sank into the back of Nahl-Ot's head.

"Ahma," he was trying to calm her, "Ahma, Ahma--,"

"What have you done?!" she shrieked. "Why?"

The prelate pulled her hard against him, and the feelings that rose from their body contact confused David completely. Who was supposed to be marrying who?

Meanwhile the Emperor of Wes appeared between them. "Nahl-Ot," he said coldly, "I am very glad the Ha did not attend this morning. This would not have been a good start." And he stalked off. Prince Musgyl followed him back inside the palace.

David stayed where he was, resisted the temptation to tell his host that no sane person would trade places with him now. Then the bridegroom came. He said nothing but his anger, as earlier, blazed from him. He looked at his father, and then at the woman he held. The prelate was sick with guilt, imagining the words his son might want to say.

Is this how it would have ended up, father?

Then Shilane turned and ran.

## CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Brosomis tried to stand in his way, but he knocked her to the ground. "Shilane!" she shouted, and once her patrollers helped her to her feet, she went after him.

"Who is she?!" Ahma screamed again. She struggled to get free, beat her fists on the prelate's shoulders. It only made him hold her more tightly. But the women who came with the jilted bride were just as interested to know the answer to her question. David was surprised to find he already knew their faces and names. Bel-Lat dropped the pleats she carried and ran up the platform steps.

"Trena!"

Ramis went with her. While the three of them embraced, David withdrew from Nahl-Ot and moved away from the ceremony area to mingle with the watching crowd. Their voices drew him. He sensed tension and wanted to hear them think. Every mind he entered was trying to make sense of what it had witnessed; no one had a theory that worked. So the people argued with each other. The first time David heard the word 'fraud' he felt sure this idea would spread. He dropped in and out of several dozen minds, throwing out the suggestion that it might be better to wait, to be sure. But it didn't stick.

Finally one person cried out, "We were deceived!" and all the individual feelings united. It ran like a shockwave through the square. Women began to wail; men stamped feet. Small stones flew through David and landed in the enclosure. One of them struck the prelate as he tried to steer Lady Ahma out of sight.

Then the stones became larger. David drove himself through bodies until he discovered how the missiles were supplied. Round the eastern wall of the palace, the men who built the platform hammered paving slabs and handed out the pieces. He raced back to the enclosure. Rubble had broken holes in the platform steps and the citizens were aiming higher. Bel-lat, Ramis and Trena had forgotten their joy and stood in a frightened huddle at the top. The patrollers had linked arms but that would be nothing if the crowd decided to charge.

Whether volax had any code of practice was a question David would ask Koda if they ever met again. As it was, he would have to run on initiative. He gauged the best height – he needed to be tall enough for everyone to see him, but not monstrous. And burning – fire would make people worry for their own safety and keep a distance. He placed himself in front of the platform, imagined it and transformed.

The response proved his success. Silence was immediate, broken only by the sound of rocks being dropped. He counted to ten before he spoke to the crowd.

"Go back to your homes."

Very good -- he could match his voice to his size. Those at the back of the square fled headlong. Those closer to him walked backwards, or chose someone to act as rear guard to keep an eye on this flaming guardian of the bride. A patrol craft flew over the roof of the palace but did not stop. It sped over the south gate and into the mountains. David watched it a while, gave the square time to become empty. Then he reduced his body to its default setting: human, with an afterglow.

"Nahl-Ot," he called, and turned. The prelate and Ahma still held each other, huddled against the back of the platform. "My name is David."

He heard whispering from the top of Trena's platform. "Yes," he replied to the question they wanted to ask, "that David."

Ramis bustled down the steps, came to him bold as brass. "Commander," she asked, "isn't this a crime? He must have kidnapped Trena. She would never agree to this...she couldn't. These people have taken advantage of her."

"Ramis," Bel-Lat hurried after her, grabbed her friend by the arm. "He doesn't know who we are."

"I do," David assured them.

"See?" Ramis said. "Then we appeal to you. This is a crime."

Nahl-Ot didn't move, didn't defend himself. When David walked over to him, to get a response, all he could say was, "Are you a god?"

David shrugged. "I'm much better with practical questions."

"Tell him," Ramis followed. "Tell him you have four hundred Ilaons under your command, prepared to fight for their own."

David looked at her. "You think I need an army?"

"No, Commander," Bel-Lat said. She pulled Ramis behind her. "We're afraid you don't need us at all. And where would that leave us?"

"Until this morning, I didn't know you existed."

Bel-Lat considered that, sighed. "We do."

"And what do you need?"

"A home," Ramis said.

"Here?" he asked. The women nodded, so he said to Nahl-Ot. "You've taken one of my people. And I've saved you from a riot. What can you offer me in return?"

The prelate struggled to breathe properly. "We...," he looked at Ahma, who had buried her head in his neck, "This isn't the best time...,"

"Because the Emperor is visiting," David finished the sentence. "Bel-Lat, where's your husband?"

"On the roof," she pointed. "With the ship."

"Ship?" the prelate asked.

"Ship," David said. "I'm afraid Commander Sesom has returned."

"It's true," Lady Ahma murmured. Nahl-Ot stared skyward, utterly lost for words. His chief of security spared him the effort; she came running through the palace doors. She cried, "Prelate--" and stopped. Brosomis looked at David, then round the deserted square, then back at him.

"Shilane?" David reminded her.

"He's stolen a patrol craft," she said automatically. "We're...chasing him."

"Can you track the craft?"

"It was on the west slope of Mount So, over the avalanche path. Losing altitude."

Ahma lifted her head. "He's going to our tunnels."

"Why?" Nahl-Ot asked.

"I'll try and find out, if you like," David said. "But before I leave, I want my people, ALL my people, given safe passage back to their ship. We'll talk again when I get back."

Speechlessness was not just the prelate's problem but also Mab's. He'd watched the whole spectacle from the roof. Probably the Ilaon expected his commander to ask some hard questions. But David told him only to stay put unless there was danger, came aboard briefly to ask Lor-Soven how he could locate the Bormu tunnels. Then he thought himself back to invisibility, and left Usalm.

***

When Tarne finished his speech, he didn't comment on the mute audience or show that he was troubled by them. He guessed that over four hundred people had come to the forum to hear him, but Betalamet would get exact numbers. The floor was full, and the entrances crowded.

Instead he left the stage and engaged the nearest person in conversation. Like so many of them, the woman he met came from another country. She grew up on the Enten islands off the gulf coast. Some of Lady Ahma's opponents came from places he'd never heard of – they had to draw him a map. Yet they craved Ilaon identity, as if that were so self-evidently meaningful.

The woman had even given herself an Ilaon name, Li-Talim. She lost her husband and brother in fighting that regularly broke out regularly between the largest towns. The ridiculous feud made her ill, and when she went to take refuge on the mainland she heard stories about the Bormu, the people who lived in harmony by the power of Ahm-Lat. She learned the story of Sesom, the persecution and the exodus. The stories changed her; made her willing to deprive herself of sunshine and fresh air. She wasn't strong enough for patrolling like the younger ones, but that was fine now because she had hope.

"And do you feel Ilaon?" Tarne wanted to know.

Her eyes shone as she gave the familiar answer. Everyone believed the birthright could be theirs no matter who their parents had been. Yet, when he asked what she expected would happen now Sesom had returned, her dreams were unique. There seemed to be no uniform teaching on this, or perhaps it had been tried and failed.

Tarne found he was collecting a bundle of wishes that no single person could fulfill. So he kept his speech vague, and perhaps they received it in silence because they were anxious, had so much to lose. Yet the longer he spent with them, the more he felt drawn to the challenge.

And many, it seemed, were drawn to him. They lined up behind Li-Talim and waited their turn to share their thoughts. He had conversed with several before he spotted Betalamet, asking people to move aside and let him come through.

"Commander," he leaned in close to speak, "someone wishes to see you urgently at the west entrance. Will you follow me?" Tarne frowned, but he could see his patrol leader was worried. He apologized to the people waiting; he told them to stay if they liked and he would return as quickly as possible.

Then he followed Betalamet. At the entrance to the tunnels armed guards fell in behind to accompany them. And they took a strange route, doubled back on themselves more than once. Keeping his voice calm, Tarne remarked on the fact.

"The person waiting for you," Betalamet replied, "was not in the best state of mind. I'm giving him time to calm down,"

They finally headed west, past the junction of three tunnels and back through the series of gates that protected the entrance. Tarne considered the possibilities. If Demos was the person waiting outside, he would be happy as soon as he saw his uncle was fine. If it was Sesom...Tarne was less sure. Much depended on the commander's mood. Strong feelings made him slow to grasp what mattered in certain situations. And Tarne would not be able to coach him, not even with looks. It could undo everything.

An aura of late morning sun began to coat the walls of the tunnel as they came to the final bend. And then Tarne got first glimpse of his visitor, a complete stranger. And he felt relieved, even though the man's anger was no secret. He shook with it.

"Who is this?" the fellow thrust his arm through the bars of the gate and waved it in Tarne's direction. "Why have you left me here, waiting?!"

"Commander Sesom," Betalamet announced, "this is Shilane, son of the prelate of Usalm."

Tarne admired his bridegroom clothes, and wondered what could possibly make him so unhappy.

"Commander...Sesom?" Shilane pulled back his arm and stepped away from the grate.

"He has returned to us," Betalamet said, "according to the prediction of Arnor."

To break the silence that followed, Tarne stepped forward. "Your grace," he said, not sure if this title was still correct, "I'm honored by your visit."

The entrance opened, and the prelate's son came inside a subdued man. Betalamet turned the guards round and marched them in front, while Tarne put himself alongside Shilane but slightly behind, as a matter of respect. There were only so many people who could have spoken, and all of them were quiet. So the voice Tarne clearly heard, as they tramped through the tunnels, could only have been one he imagined.

"Commander Sesom? Seriously? Tarne, I'm just hoping you've got a good explanation for this."

## CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Omri Date: 8342 (Launch plus 1097) Quarter So, Cycle 3

It may be plus twenty five degrees or later. I feel sun on my back; for the light to get this far inside the cave it has to be mid-morning. My leg aches, but I can't stretch without waking Hasi.

Revelations take so many forms. Of course, I didn't know that a thousand years ago. I was an earnest young soldier, in love with what? In love, maybe, with my generals and their world of structure and discipline. I was determined to make that my world, and excel within it. How odd, that I've had to live this long, come all this way to realize how small that world was.

Cannot, cannot keep still. If I lift my leg carefully...he is fine. He hasn't stirred.

Man for a crisis, crisis fills the man. Saving Ilaons left no room in me, no time to ask if the task had invaded space that I should never have given away. Space for—stupid to remember now, but there were moments I could see but not admit what I was seeing. During meditation Tarne always stood by my chair. And if I looked uncomfortable he would lean over to pick up my head. Even if I was deep in trance, my lips would part. I'd wake up with a dry throat that water could never help.

Now this sweet one has flooded me. In my dreams, and after—he pushed inside and claimed that space for himself. Now it's clear and I might be wrong to say so, but for me Ahm-Lat has spoken. I may have been needed for the short fight, but not designed for the long one. Let Tarne do that. He has always been better with people.

Hasi sleeps like a child. His face is slack, without worry. In his passion he called me 'father', and in return I told him who I really was, which multiplied the joy. It's the only time the sound of my name has made anyone so glad.

Around plus thirty, thirty-three degrees: I crept out of the cave, went no further than the nearest trees to gather coils for breakfast. I startled Hasi when I came back, and perhaps that made him irritable. Suddenly our love was nothing; it was an embarrassment that we'd been awake so late the night before, and slept so long. "Half the day wasted" - he muttered as he dressed. And he didn't want to eat; he felt that would take too much time.

"I have friends," he said, "that you must meet."

So the coils were left behind in the cave, and we went hand in hand down the western slope of So. I didn't tell him how peculiar it seemed to make an old, familiar journey in such different circumstances. Once the trees started to shade us from the sun, I had a sense of haunting, like any moment a sharp image from the past would recur and spoil our walk. To try and dispel my fear, I gave Hasi a kiss on the neck. He smiled.

"My best hopes were nothing like this," he said, and began to walk faster. "I waited, but I never thought I'd be rewarded...you showed yourself first to me."

The trees got taller, leafier. There were nohens in the undergrowth, and I was disturbed again with the realization that we were close to the old tunnels. Hasi, oblivious, stopped now and again to give close study to certain branches.

"Here," he pointed. In the cleft, where a small branch sprouted from a larger limb, there were grooves cut. "My invention, father. This is the year, quarter, cycle. And the branch points the way we should go. Are you impressed?"

I was distracted by the genius of this code, which was enough. We turned south and consulted more markers like the first, until we came to a small gorge that concealed a stream. Hasi showed me the best way down to the bottom, where the bank was narrow. We walked single file against the current. We reached falls, where water streamed down a sheer drop, but soon I could see that the wet and spray formed a curtain which concealed a hiding place, a burrow. Crouched inside, waiting for us, were the men.

A few were older than Hasi, but not by much. "Where are the others?" he asked gruffly.

"The scout will have seen you," one replied. "he'll give the signal."

"Who is this?" asked another.

Hasi gave me a conspiratorial smile. "This," he said proudly, "is commander Sesom."

Of course they were lost for words, incredulous – who could believe? Yet Hasi held them. By some tie they were bound to agree with him. For a moment I thought it might be the same bond we shared, and had to deal with jealousy. My comfort was he never touched them, didn't much look at them. "Why didn't the Bormu have patrols out this morning or yesterday?" he demanded.

"We don't know. We saw the last shift leave in the afternoon."

"No replacements?"

Hasi's friends shook their heads, and this news seemed to worry him. He was quiet. After a while I saw more people come down to the gorge. Not all could fit in the hiding place, so they stood on the banks. I counted twenty. And one of the men in the cave said, "They've brought the hostage."

"Hostage?" Hasi left my side to go see. They presented him with a prisoner, naked except for a head covering. Hasi peeked under the hood. "Is this anyone important?" When they told him how he was found near the river, he railed on them.

"You've dragged some half-wit Amosis tribesman--" They tried to protest. He shouted over their arguments.

Plus thirty seven degrees: debate went on. The hostage was brought inside and made to sit near me, but we didn't speak. Jealousy hurt. I wasn't the only one in Hasi's world, that was clear. But the pain bothered me more because I couldn't see my competition. It clearly wasn't any of these men. When Hasi finally imposed a decision, and gave the order for everyone to follow, I got up worried. Wherever we were going, today or any other day, there would be a point in the journey when I would find out what else he loved.

We followed the stream. The hostage was kept at the back of our parade; I was brought to the front. We came to a place where the water plunged down a hole, a well. I stopped. I bent down to touch the stones that had been cut and set in place around the opening. When I stood, I saw the whole company had halted. Hasi was watching me, amused.

"We have two of them now," he said. "One here, and one on the north side. It's better – no more fetching and carrying, like they did in your day."

I knew what he must be implying, but couldn't believe it. We turned at the well and walked a little more; just where I remembered an entrance had once been it was still there. And it was guarded.

"Hasi," one of the gatekeepers called as he opened up, "didn't think you'd be back."

Hasi approached with a sneer. "I didn't think there would be anything to come back to. Aren't you all leaving for the city?"

"The commander wishes to see you urgently. If you could go directly to--,"

"She can wait," Hasi interrupted. The guard tried to say more, but one of our parade came up and grabbed him by the sleeve. Hasi leaned in close to his face.

"She won't command much longer," he snarled. Then he pushed his way inside. "If Lady Ahma wishes to speak with me, tell her to come to the forum. No—tell everyone!"

Plus thirty five degrees: Jealousy and now shock. From the south entrance we went down deep and took the turning where the tunnel walls are mossy. Every detail remains true, from the timber frames that support the ceiling to the little altars where offerings were left. Was this all unchanged, everywhere? What did my rooms look like?

And as we approached the forum we felt the warmth accumulated from bodies I smelled hot food and heard children cry. We opened the doors (new wood, but the old carvings) and stepped into the dome with its vaulted ceiling. All round, the walls were covered in cloth dyed ochre and orange, and every hearth was burning. A few people cooked and gave out food round these fires, while the rest filled the floor.

It was as though they expected us. The assembled people seemed to turn in unison to see. Hasi took my hand, and together we drove straight into the sea of bodies, parting them down the middle. We crossed the forum, climbed the steps on the north side to take the stage. When we turned to face the people again, the path we'd forged remained; no one reclaimed the floor.

"It has become sacred ground," Hasi whispered. His band of men marched through the same way and formed a line along the floor in front of us.

"Who are all these people?" I asked. Hasi had lost his grip on me. I tried to reach for his hand, but he moved away.

***

It was a profitable meeting. Shilane's grievance was quickly described, apology easy to offer. Naturally it led to a discussion of everything that mattered to the Bormu: the negotiations with Her-Bi, the conference, the extermination order from the Emperor of Wes. Tarne suggested they resume talks secretly, just himself and the prelate's son, which seemed to have a powerful effect on the prince. But then he was easy to understand. Like the rumors Tarne had heard about Hasi, this man just wanted a role that mattered. The commander also offered to take Lady Ahma back, but Shilane didn't like the idea.

"She wants a new life. I won't deny her that. I just don't want to marry her."

Inside his head, Tarne heard that same inexplicable voice say, "The way things looked to me, she should marry his father." It had offered a running commentary throughout the meeting, stating facts Tarne couldn't possibly know. And so he excused himself at that point, left the reception room and stood on the stairs that led to the lookout. Betalamet followed him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Tired," Tarne said.

"You should eat. They are serving meals in the forum."

"Could you bring food here?"

Once he was alone again, he laid his head against the cool stone wall. He didn't feel unwell, though there was something wrong with his vision. The steps appeared to be coated in weird light, pale colored circles of it. They grew. They spun. They traded places, and when he thought it might be wise to sit down, the light settled neatly into the image of a face.

"You're fine," David said. "It's me. Just experimenting."

Tarne heaved a breath. "I...I didn't know...,"

"Are you honestly going to stay with the Bormu?"

He shrugged. "I'm surprised too."

"You must have some kind of rescue addiction."

"They need a leader."

"True. Well, thank goodness I'm looking after the ones you left behind."

"What about--,"

"Sesom? I'd love to know. He's vanished -- any idea where he'd go?"

Tarne thought a moment. "His cave."

"Cave?"

"He used to go there, if he was worried."

"Will he come back?"

"Possibly."

"Perhaps I'll pay a visit," David said, "when things are less busy. And I'll check whether Demos got back to the ship safely—that will take one worry off your mind."

"Thank you," Tarne said. Then they both heard someone shout, "Commander!" and the sound of running feet.

"But first--," David's face vanished, and then Tarne heard the voice in his head. "I can read other minds, if that's useful. Just ask."

Betalamet appeared at the bottom of the stairs, breathing hard. All he could manage to say was, "Hasi."

When they entered the forum, the patrol leader pointed to the lanky boy on stage. But Tarne stopped dead at the sight of the man on his right.

"Sesom?!" David was just as shocked.

"Arnor had these words carved onto pieces of stone," Hasi waved his arms as he preached to the crowd, "which would stand at the gates of the factory to shame the armies of Gylot when they came. He said that Sesom had gone away but he would return to this world, to Omri, and to the city of Usalm. And the sign would be fire burning at the top of the mountain, and war, and the triumph of Ilaons."

Tarne had no idea what he was saying. "Bormu scriptures," David informed him. "I can also provide a pretty frightening apparition. You know, for crowd control."

"We'll see," Tarne replied. He told Betalamet to stay where he was, and keep watch for any trouble. Then he moved carefully along the back of the room. He saw the gap in the audience, as if they knew he'd need one. He studied his former commander's face, recognized that frozen look.

"Sesom has returned," Hasi pointed to his companion. "He met me in the sacred cave, and together we have asked for and received visions from Ahm-Lat--,"

Slowly, but deliberately, Tarne stepped into the gap and walked to the front.

"--And now we come to receive you all, as promised. It is time to go home, time to be taken away--," Then Hasi spotted him. "You?" he pointed and shrieked, "who are you?!"

Tarne reached the stage. He wondered what it would look like if David's light show were to appear round his head.

"All right," came the answer. Then he went up the steps and stood face to face with his little agitator.

"I am commander Sesom," he said. "And I decide what these people will do."

You could hear multiple breaths, taken in short and sharp. Otherwise the forum was utterly quiet. The lights were beautiful, falling in front of his face and over his shoulders like a veil.

## CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

I won't record date or time. For me, history shrank back when Tarne stepped onto the stage, and the present became the only important thing. Tarne had changed clothes, and the new robes filled him out, gave him such presence. And all around his head colored stars danced. I felt small, and out of alignment with my own life. It seemed everything I'd done, however convinced I'd been of my actions, had been slightly mistaken.

Certainly, Tarne shared the blame for those same mistakes. But he'd done the job I ran away from. He'd made some kind of sacrifice to stand where he now stood, staring down Hasi. Whatever that was, I suspected it would make amends. And it would be part of a workable idea, a way to continue history.

This was why Tarne never sought visions. He had natural sight. He was using the same skills that made him the most capable director of the marketplace in Usalm, and the best leader to have in a crisis. He could see into people, and knew how they might be used.

How did he see me? Son of the king's advisor, trained by the right generals, destined for fame. I wasn't glamorous after days of hiding in the forest, when I turned up at his camp in the mountains. But he deferred to me, always. That was for practical reasons – my face was better looking, my reputation and my presence more exciting. For a time he let me, needed me, to play the role of great hero, because someone needed to excite the hopes of the Ilaon refugees and make them compliant.

I believe that lasted until we launched the ship, and for a little while after.

Now my usefulness is gone. He and I both knew that; we simply came to our conclusions differently. Sadly, my darling Hasi still lived in the world where I was a brighter star. He had backed away from Tarne, wary of the colored stars. He turned to me.

"Tell him! Tell this imposter you are Sesom."

His eyes and face were slick with anxiety, like when he begged me to teach him meditation. It made me wish we were back in the cave, lying down together. I could be Sesom there.

"Tell him!"

People in the forum were coming to their own conclusions. I could hear a few, and if I could then so could Tarne. Hasi was not without sympathizers.

"Why won't your friend speak?" Tarne asked. "If he is Sesom, he should prove it."

"We can prove it," Hasi whirled on him, snarling. "We...," he checked one last time, in case he could get something from me, but had to give up.

There were no Bormu patrols," he railed. "We have had to check the forest on your behalf. Enemies are everywhere...enemies waiting for us to make a mistake. You don't seem to fear that."

"Then teach me," Tarne countered. "Tell me about these enemies."

Hasi rushed to the edge of the stage. He crouched and spoke with one of his cohorts, who pointed down the line of men to the far corner of the stage. And Hasi nodded. He returned to face his adversary. "I'll do better than that," he said, "I'll show you."

Jittery conversations in the crowd. They all had fears, it seemed. I heard the names of gods and witches, demons and people. No one would envy Tarne this job. Fearful eyes watched intently as two members of Hasi's gang brought the hostage forward. They led him to the stage, pushed his head forward so his chin rested on the boards. "We found him outside the south tunnels, armed," Hasi claimed as they loosened the prisoner's hood. "We've questioned him. He was sent by the prelate of Usalm to spy on us." And the covering was pulled away.

Demos was thirteen when we first met. After Tarne brought me, ragged and dirty, into his camp, he let me use the boy's room. He had hot water boiled so I could bath and gave me a change of clothes. Neither of us realized that Demos hid behind a bench where my old clothes had been thrown aside. He wanted to see this legend in the flesh. I taught him how to be a soldier, so that when he grew to a man I had a bodyguard. We hunted together.

Pain to him would be pain to me. And now that I saw him I showed it. I sank to a crouch, clamped my arms round me and said his name. And when I looked at Tarne's face there was rage, only rage. His halo of stars turned red.

"This man," he told Hasi, "has come from my ship."

"No," Hasi said. "No, it's not true. You are not Sesom." He came to me a third time, grabbed me by the shoulders, shook me. "Father, tell them. Please. Tell them who you are."

Demos winced, because his minders had his arms twisted behind his back. "Let him go," I said.

But Hasi's men did nothing. Perhaps they only took orders from their little master. "Let him go!" I bellowed, and then they obeyed.

"Hasi," called a voice from the back of the room. "Give yourself up. Sesom has returned to us – isn't this what we've waited for?"

"No," Hasi insisted, and turned on the whole audience. "No, no. I know my dreams." He scanned the crowd for his heckler. "I know my dreams! This man is an imposter. Ahm-Lat has spoken to me. You have seen it! I have been shown it, fire and war, just as Arnor predicted!"

A woman wailed. Chanting of some kind started at the back, accompanied by clatter from food utensils. Another person began to repeat, "Ahm-Lat Ahm-Lat Ahm-Lat" in breathless voice. Tarne called out, "Betalamet!" Hasi, wide-eyed and invigorated by the tension, waved his hands.

"Ahm-Lat has spoken!"

"Liar!" someone yelled. But there were so many voices by then. The crowd shifted and rearranged, filling in gaps, perhaps people finding other people who agreed with their version of hope and fear. I saw a man, perhaps the very one Tarne needed, fighting his way through this turmoil to reach the stage. Hasi saw him too.

"The drill!" he screamed. "Remember the drill!" And he leapt off the stage. His followers broke rank in three groups, so precise I found myself standing up to watch. Those in the middle charged the crowd, started fights. On either end of the stage they ran round the sides of the room, behind the food tables. Each grabbed one of the hanging banners and tore it from the wall, then thrust his cloth in the cooking fires. Flues blocked, and black smoke blew onto the floor.

People tried to retrieve the banners, stamp out their burning. Some were rescued but others were dragged away. I saw one man's hair set alight. Then Betalamet reached the stage. "I've split my patrol and sent them to the gates, to get them open. We must evacuate."

"Shilane," Tarne said, and his halo vanished.

I wanted to help Demos, because he had managed to fight off the one disciple of Hasi who stayed to hold him. I started to move, but Tarne grabbed my clothes and yanked me down. Then he lowered himself to my level and pressed his brow ridge hard into mine.

"If I should be so kind as to let you leave, it will be as my prisoner," he hissed. Then he stood, told Betalamet to take the hood that had covered his nephew's head and put it over mine.

I wanted to say how grateful I was for darkness. "Remember the drill." Hasi's last words were my company while I was jostled and bumped and breathed smoky air. Whatever dream Ahm-Lat had bestowed on my sweet one, he knew its shape before he dreamed it, and had prepared.

## CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

As David sped unseen through the tunnels, he had to think of the best way to approach Shilane. The obvious option was to make himself a replica of Tarne, but he would have liked someone to observe his first attempt and comment. That wouldn't be possible.

Smoke was everywhere. Some of the blazing banners must have been dragged from the forum and whether deliberately or not, set off fires. He passed under burning support beams, saw rooms alight. Guards were herding people to the exits as best they could, and he knew once he saved the prelate's son he'd need to go back.

It wasn't easy, to move this fast while keeping in mind an image of Tarne's whole body. The two things didn't compute. But whatever Shilane saw, it was enough to make him follow David meekly to the west gate. The Bormu he met later were more difficult. Some fainted, which he could handle. Others screamed, tried to run or fight as he carried them to safety. He made trip after trip into the tunnels, and as the smoke became worse he was collecting the unconscious, and finally the dead.

Every corpse had an effect. It wasn't devastating; it wasn't sorrow. He last person he lifted off the floor was a woman who looked Alyson's age. And that was how she seemed, like they'd linked in a way that would remain with him. Where her flesh burned he felt heat. When he came outside he rose over the avalanche debris and landed where Shilane waited with a group of evacuees. They were burying bodies he'd already retrieved.

"Commander," the prelate's son said, "as soon as the smoke is seen from the city, Brosomis will have to send patrols."

David laid the woman on the ground. "Would they...do they have weapons?"

"Lasers. Hardly used, but the Emperor may insist."

And so he left again, to make an aerial survey. There were large gatherings near all four tunnels and breakaway groups in the forest. All of them his – he thought those exact words and it begged the question whether he had concentrated too hard on his impersonation of their new leader.

But he couldn't worry about that now. He went down to each huddled collection of Bormu and spoke to any guards. He told them to get everyone together, keep calm. He located Tarne in tree cover near the north gate.

"Shilane is safe," he said. "If you aren't offended by this poor imitation, I'm going to try and bring everyone we've rescued here."

The commander shook his head. "You are fine from the waist up," he replied, "and thank you."

The round up was a slow process. Already the angle of the sun kept it just above the peaks, and the air was cooling. Tarne told him how to check under nohen trees, and he discovered whole families squirrelled away. He found several of Hasi's gang in the woods, crouched between rocks, smoke stained and despondent. They said they didn't know where their leader was, and he believed them.

Then the first patrol craft flew past. He was supervising evacuees walking from the south entrance. They were so terrified he had to set his face on fire to give them a better reason to keep moving.

Tarne received them all, counted heads before passing them to Betalamet to check if they still had their section leader. They were assigned a place to rest, but it was nothing better than open ground. David was about to leave again, but Tarne called him.

"We've had a boy run from the west gate," he said. "They were spotted by patrols. Shilane has been arrested."

"I can deal with it."

"But before you do," Tarne asked, "I need a favour."

Not necessary to ask. David had piggybacked the injured, cradled children, and all of it had sunk into him. Koda said he was an idea – if that was true it appeared he was the same idea Tarne was thinking right now.

"Take them to the ship," he said.

The Ilaon closed his eyes with relief. "Thank you."

"I'll tell Brahm and the doctor that you're coming. What about your prisoner?" Sesom sat with his back against a tree. Demos stood over him, but he seemed a reluctant guard.

"I don't know if I can trust him."

David regarded the former leader with his drooped, covered head. "We'll have to see."

He left then and flew round Mount So to the clearing with the imprint of the hull. He passed directly into the Control Room, first through the screens and then through something else. He turned to look – it was a stack of bed covers. There were three more stacks on the floor. It puzzled him long enough, so that he forgot to change shape.

"Tarne?" Brahm asked.

And this was another strange thing: the Udoran was in the middle of this stockpile. He reclined on an altogether new piece of furniture. It looked like a cross between a throne and sun lounger. Like the pallets in Medical it could float, but the polished black frame was curved so Brahm could rest while sitting up. And it was generously upholstered. The quilt spread over his legs was thick and the same shade of vivid red David remembered seeing in the Emperor's coat.

"Tarne?" Brahm said again, and then David remembered how he ought to look.

"What is this?" he pointed at the lounger.

"A gift from Koda," the Udoran replied.

"Koda's here?"

"Not now."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"He said he would be with you, most of the time."

David was trying to think of his next question when Vavnu came through from the corridor, carrying more bedding.

"David!" she exclaimed. "Will this be enough?"

"Enough?"

"How many will be coming?"

He shook his head. "It's good to know Brahm's had interesting dreams. And interesting visitors."

"That new bed is only part of it," she said.

"Three hundred and seventeen," he went back to her earlier remark. "We have some injuries, mainly burns."

"Fine."

"Tarne will be leading them."

She widened her eyes. "I see."

"And you remember the cell Sesom locked you in? You'll need to activate it again."

"For who?"

"Ask Brahm to sleep on it."

"Not funny," she retorted. "And where's Cha Cha?"

"Cha Cha," he began. His original errand seemed almost as far away as his mortal life. "Cha Cha is fine, but she knew I was busy. She's in a safe place, waiting for me to come back."

He chose to look like a baby dragon for his flight to Usalm, based on a daft hope it might attract his mentor. But he travelled alone in the sky. He passed over Bormu territory and was pleased to notice there were no more patrol craft in the sky. Several lines of evacuees from the tunnels were making their way up Mount So.

In the darkening sky above him was a solitary cloud. He had seen it earlier, but hadn't thought anything of it. Now he had a second look. Perhaps he put too much confidence in the knowledge he'd picked up, yet he felt sure no cloud like that was normal here.

It stretched from the peak of So to the grassland where he and Koda had walked on the embers of Her-Bi's house. Underneath it was smooth as a brushstroke. It had a radiance, a ripple effect on its edge. And he was sure he could hear it.

Then, in more typical cloud fashion, it started to make weather. Part of its bulk turned dark, and he saw tiny grey slivers fall. They spiralled gently at first, then built up bulk as they came toward him, bulk and speed. They seared past and in that fraction of a second there were eyes looking back at him: eyes in human faces, human faces inside ice crystals that vibrated and roared.

Before he could fathom it, they had pointed themselves in the direction of the smoke that rose from the Bormu tunnels and fired shots into the surrounding trees.

## CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Dear Nemo,

I've walked round the bedroom, the shower room, the little dining room with seating for two. If I'm dreaming, at what point should I be able to wake myself?

I was fine until David flew the small spacecraft into a cloud. It blotted out the view; I couldn't see but he didn't seem worried. Then the vapour found its way inside. The air turned misty all around us, and it got cooler. And it had a funny smell, so maybe I was drugged. Anyway, next thing I knew the craft was gone and we were here, in the lounge. We stood on the rug and every detail was sharp, too real to be real. There was a white sofa in front of me with red cushions, black end tables holding white bowls that contained red pebbles. It reminded me of the Bank of China offices, where I used to see my dad sometimes. But no windows, no doors. No marks on the walls to show where you could get out, or how we got in.

And David said, "I realise this seems strange." I didn't answer. "I'm hoping you'll be comfortable here a while, because I'm afraid I have to leave." Leave. By definition, if you leave you should be seen going. I saw nothing. Before he finished the sentence, he wasn't there.

I put my backpack under one of the tables and sat on the sofa. Then I spent a long time staring at the abstract painting on the other wall and the pattern on the rug. I didn't go exploring because I didn't trust the scenery; I thought it might change. That didn't happen, but after a while I heard a noise. And shortly after that I could smell soy and garlic, which was irresistible, and that lured me into the dining room. I found a table set with chopsticks, a squat tea service and bowls of rice. I found a stranger holding two platters of food.

"Hello," he said. "My name is Gen."

If this was a dream, I could have done better. Don't get me wrong – Gen was my age, wore a jacket and tie and made nice work of his hair. And any man who can get me food as good as Auntie Mai's will always score points. But I was a little disappointed; I'd made him look like Guan You from Mayday, nerdy and thin with funny glasses. Judging from the way his hands shook as he put down the plates, I'd also made him nervous. But he sat in one of the chairs. He beckoned me to take the other.

"I am assigned to be your companion."

Oh right, I thought. Crazy stuff in dreams – what else can you do except play along? "Assigned, huh?" I said. "Just for today?"

He pointed at the plates. "Please eat."

I didn't need encouraging. When I was done, he served himself a few vegetables, but mostly pushed them back and forth with his chopsticks. "You...come from the seed?" he asked.

"The seed? What is that?" But Gen offered tea instead of information. He had two cups set out: white for me, black for him. I didn't ask again. I was entertained by the way he bent over the teapot, stirring the leaves and trying to steal glances at me.

"Would you like to play shen?" he asked.

I took my cup when he'd filled it and sipped. And I wondered what would happen if I played his game, and didn't answer questions. So we finished the tea in silence. Then Gen stood, cleared the dishes from the table onto a sideboard, opened the cabinet doors underneath and pulled out a black chest. He set it in front of me, so I could see the design cut into the lacquered lid.

When he opened it, the lid prevented me seeing what was inside. "I'll need teaching," I warned, but that made him smile. The first thing he removed was a fat deck of red cards. He shuffled them with his eyes closed. Then he counted out the first twenty-two, and arranged them in a circle. Sixteen more were placed in a vertical line that cut the circle in half. Finally he arranged another forty cards so that we had a replica of the mysterious symbol on the chest. The remaining cards were left in stacks that sat inside the two lower sections of the circle.

He gave me a small metal disc with a hole in the middle, like an I Ching coin. While I turned it over and squinted at the designs, Gen took out a similar one for himself and placed it at the bottom of the card circle. He pointed to show me that mine belonged at the top.

Then slowly, ceremonially, he closed the box. "Is that it?" I said, because you wouldn't need something half that size to hold cards and coins.

"The simple version," he explained. But it wasn't simple to get started. Gen put the box on the floor and when he sat back up he did nothing but stare at the table. Once in a while he made a random swap of the cards, which hardly made sense when they looked the same. I tried to pinch one by the corner and tip it up to see the other side. He snatched it away, replaced it with a card from the stacks and shuffled mine into one of the piles.

"You must not. Bad luck."

"Okay," I agreed, and held up my hands. Then all of a sudden Gen stood out of his chair, tipped his head to one side. Focus left his eyes, like he was listening to an inner voice.

"We are departing," he said, "I have to report." I ached to ask, but figured if he didn't say more, he wouldn't say more. He picked up the card that sat directly under my coin. "You may study this one," he told me, "but only this."

He ran to the other room. By then I was getting the hang of my dreams; I knew when I got there he'd be gone. And I knew, even though I searched, that I wasn't going to break free from this prison until I woke up. So now I'm back on the sofa, trying to find some meaning in this picture of a baby dragon.

***

The Emperor stood at the back of the conference room. He gazed out the open window with his head tilted to the sky, as though nothing had gone wrong. Nahl-Ot performed the respectful gestures required and waited at the top of the long table until he was addressed. His head throbbed. His mind flitted from one worry to another: Shilane, Ahma, Trena, the apparition in the square, the reaction of the crowd.

"Prelate," the Emperor's voice broke into that mental chaos, "I'm not a patient man, but I make exceptions."

Nahl-Ot looked across at Musgyl, who'd been there longer. He hoped to get some idea what was coming, but the prince pretended not to notice him.

"I've done this with regard to the Bormu. In fact, before my time the leaders of Wes have allowed them and their fantasies to go unchecked. It's a shame. We should have realized their influence, how their message is spread, and how they affect the minds of people throughout the empire."

The prelate nodded again, not because he believed this conspiracy theory, but because it was what you could expect the emperor to say if he spoke long enough.

"And I know what you've argued, Nahl-Ot. You've argued that they've never been more than a few hundred people, children included, and they hardly stick their noses out from their tunnels. But then you were trying to domesticate one of them...what was his name?"

"Her-Bi," the prelate answered.

"That's right, their leader. But it hasn't gone well, has it?" Nahl-Ot tried to delay comment by carefully pulling out a chair and carefully sitting down. Then his secretary arrived. He laid out panels with the day's agenda, and stylos for taking notes. The one he gave the prelate had an additional message on the readout: 'Brosomis has an urgent update from the patrols. Please may she see you privately?' He shook his head at his assistant.

"Since you don't seem to remember, shall I remind you?" the Emperor offered.

"I apologize," was all the prelate could say.

"You apologize for what? For the failure to turn one Bormu into a civilized person or for disobeying the orders I sent before the conference?" It was a trap to catch its victim cleanly. Nahl-Ot, pinned down, could only lower his head.

"I feel they are my people," he said.

"How?! Maybe a handful of them are Ilaon."

"They want to be Ilaon."

"They want to be in outer space. And I'd be happy to send them."

Nahl-Ot pressed his knuckles into his eyebrows. The message on the panel had also offered to bring him a draught to relieve the pain, so he'd effectively refused that too. Then he heard Musgyl stir in his chair.

"Your Grace," he addressed the Emperor, "We have found no reason to connect the fire that killed Her-Bi to the Bormu."

"And you wouldn't think to ask me. Because I live on a far away island, yes? I wouldn't know what secrets are kept in those mountains?" Nahl-Ot lifted his head, wary of the question. The Emperor smiled to himself. He hadn't stepped away from the window; he preferred whatever was out there to facing them.

"But I know a few things," the little man said. "If you lined up all the Bormu in front of me, I could identify the one who started the fire."

He's gone mad, the prelate thought. And Musgyl had taken in a long breath, as if to get ready for what would follow.

"Not that you could bring them here, of course. I expect by now they are spread all over the mountains." The Emperor did look at them now, and waited for a response. When none came, he added, "I'm talking about the ones who haven't already been killed."

"We don't understand--," Nalh-Ot said.

"Then you should have taken your secretary's advice, and had that private meeting with your chief of security. She'll tell you. There's been another fire." The prelate pushed back his chair, stood up.

"How do you know this?" Prince Musgyl asked.

"Because the Ha know. And they are dealing with it."

***

Somewhere behind him, Tarne heard a wail. He ignored it because it sounded no worse than another tired child crying or bereaved relative grieving. He was in the middle of the convoy Demos led to David's ship.

Shortly after that noise there was another, stranger sound. It made his ears buzz. He ran a hand over the top of his head where he felt vibrations. The noise grew louder and louder; he looked up through the trees but saw nothing, except that the sky was darker. Then there was a scream. He was half turned when a white flash made him blind for an instant. It left spots in front of his eyes and Li-Talim, who had been walking and talking beside him, lay dead.

More white light flared and more people fell. The convoy broke and ran all directions; in the rush he was knocked over. He lifted his head and shouted, "Nohen trees – find nohen trees!!"

Then a clod of dirt hit him in the face; he coughed and cleared his nose because the hairs inside seemed to burn. When he could see again there was a smoking hole in the ground within touching distance. He drew himself onto his hands and knees. The forest had turned twilight dark and the floor was littered with the dead. He stumbled over limbs blasted from the trees, back in the direction of the north tunnel. His ears still buzzed, but not loud enough to drown out screams.

He didn't know what to make of the fog. It came down like dollops of sauce. It made clots in the gaps between trees, then more and more settled until the sky was gone. Tarne tried to walk through it but the vapor became too dense for moving, or for breathing. It it soon pushed him down so the only way forward was underneath. Tarne struggled, half on all fours and half crawling. He was sweating so hard he could drink it.

"Hold still." David's voice in his head again. "I'm trying to hide everyone but it's tricky."

"Wha's happening?" Tarne gasped.

"They're going. Listen."

The buzz that made his head vibrate had faded.

"They couldn't see to fly," David said, "and they couldn't see you.

"But who are 'they'?"

## CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

They took off my hood and the light made me cry, that unforgiving whiteness in the Control Room. Shamana Vavnu was shocked by the sight of me, but she recovered soon enough. Demos had a wound on his shoulder and she couldn't waste time with other kinds of pain. She made me sit on the floor below the monitors, while the Bormu came up in small groups from the mehltrom, were examined, given a blanket and led away.

Beside me, Brahm lay on a beautiful bed, covered in shimmering red cloth. His head had turned aside on its pillow to face me, and he seemed asleep. When I reached out, just to stroke the hem of his cover, his eyes opened.

-HASI-

The voice didn't inflect like a question, or make me think it would say more. I believed it was an invitation.

"He was a boy when his father died," I told him. "It was like losing a backbone, for him. We are all just weak, aren't we, except for someone else?"

Pausing between one group of Bormu and the next, Vavnu glanced our way.

"And so I suppose I gave him the inspiration to light his fires. I will pay for his crimes. But I don't argue, because the fire was good for me. What it burned away needed to be destroyed."

Tarne came up with the last evacuees, and demanded to know why I wasn't shut away.

"When I get time," the doctor said. "He hasn't been any trouble."

But that wouldn't satisfy him. Demos told me, before he brought me aboard, that he wasn't happy to carry out his uncle's orders. Whereas Tarne, I was sure, only regretted that I hadn't been a victim of the mysterious attack from the sky. He came and stood over me.

"No one knows where your friend has gone. Not one of his men stayed loyal, it seems."

I nodded.

"You will be the bait to lure him out. Once everyone is settled, David will take you. You'll search the forest. You'll bury everyone you killed by helping that little demon. And then--,"

-TARNE-

I touched the red cover again. "I don't object," I said to Brahm, "not to any punishment."

-GOOD-

Before I was led to my cell, my hood was put back on. That was not punishment. In darkness I could feel erased, and if erased then what lived on could no longer be bound by the laws of Sesom. No more reporting, no timekeeping. Power would be another man's possession. When the cover came off, as they were about to lock me away, I asked the doctor if I could keep it.

"This?" she asked, frowning at her handful of cloth. But Tarne took it and threw it at me.

***

In the feeding station, the impact was so hard it knocked benches over and Mab with them. Lor-Soven came to help him up and together they rushed to the Control Room. The screens had not reacted; they had to ask for information. And the response was slow. Tarne's nephew thought they might be damaged. They were certainly acting strange: the data focussed entirely on the density and analysis of air outside, when there must have been something solid to hit them so hard.

Still images were worse. Their view of Usalm from the top of the prelate's palace seemed to be slowly disappearing. Lor-Soven went down in the mehltrom and put his head and shoulders through the hold to confirm it. Somehow they were covered by an immense shelf of cloud, which was creeping down the sides of the ship as if it needed time to swallow them whole.

They tried to launch. But the motive drives had no effect, other than to shake the Control Room. When the women came in, Mab told them to wake everyone. "One sector at a time, starting with their marshals. Report to me when they're ready."

He increased motive drives to their fullest thrust, held them there. He and Lor-Soven stared at the monitors, willing the ship upward, clenching their fists. The screens warned them, over and over, that the exterior was under too much pressure. They had to seal off the Observation Room when the dome cracked.

They stopped the launch and checked their surroundings again. The cloud was now in every external image, and it completely cut them off from the outside world. Lor-Soven went outside again while Mab watched him via the screens. He came through the hold and you could see he paused, leaned forward, before he pointed at something in the obscurity and went after it. His moving figure was quickly erased by the mist.

He never came back. When David arrived this was all explained. He listened and made Mab assure him that every opening through which air could pass was discovered and secured. He met the marshals in the feeding station, gave them a display and a short speech he hoped would help make up newly awakened minds in their situation. Then he made himself invisible and went out.

He searched the cloud buffer all round the ship, found nothing. Then he moved up the sides of the exterior, over the top of the Observation Room where the cloud was rippling and passed through a barrier denser than water vapor. And on the other side he found a place.

The first words that sprang to mind were 'mission control in Beijing.' He was at one end of a container the size of a city block, which had rows and rows of curved transparent panels coming down from the ceiling. They erupted data. Each one was watched by a Chinese attendant dressed in crisp black uniform.

David sampled a few of the nearest minds until their language sank in and the displays made sense. But it was a dull exercise. Details of system compliance, manufacturing reports, personnel files that included details of meals eaten...he knew he was dealing with a gigantic complex but could not get any idea why it was here. He passed through an entire section of panel operators, accumulating and dismissing more stuff about internal operations. Then the forty-ninth attendant, responsible for external investigations, had information about the craft they pinned down. David paused behind his eyes, while the man's pupils flicked back and forth, checking the data. Eventually the worker let out a breath, and felt satisfied their captive could not escape.

Then David planted the question – why had they done it?

The man replied aloud. "To please you, shen."

David shot straight up and out, stopping at the top of the data panel to study this attendant. The bloke carried on as if nothing surprising had happened, as if he routinely gave respectful replies to voices in his head. David came slowly back down. He didn't take any shape but glowed warmly. The worker, still unfazed, put his hand right through the stuff of volax to touch his panel. He carried on with data gathering while David slipped past and went through the floor.

He sank through cloud, then through his ship and finally through the roof of the palace. He searched the upper floor for the prelate but found Shilane first. He and Trena stood on a balcony overlooking the square. They presented themselves to well-wishers, such as there were. The cloud complex cast a shadow on the white pavement and few people had been brave enough to venture back after the wedding. And in any case the prelate's son couldn't wave to them; his hands were tied. And in the gallery behind Brosomis waited, with two of her patrollers.

When the couple turned to come inside David put himself between them and the security chief, and made himself visible as Tarne. Trena pulled back, but Shilane laughed out loud. "You...you're going to save me twice?"

"Am I?"

The prelate's son tipped his head toward Brosomis. "She's about to take me away from my wife and put me in prison, just because I left one of her little shuttles in the mountains."

Brosomis blanched, but she didn't flinch. "It may not be a serious crime," she said, "but that is the law."

"I know where the craft is. Why not just fetch it?" David argued.

"We've sent a patroller already. It's the principle – the prelate's son has to accept the same penalty as any citizen--,"

"--What penalty is there for bride swapping?" David interrupted. "And whose plan was that?" There was a nice silence. It allowed him to shimmer, even expand and combust a little, so the patrollers remembered what happened in the square and told their chief.

"I see," was all she said.

"Good. Then I'd like you to pardon the accused. Leave Shilane here, and take me to see the prelate."

But before anyone could move, Shilane called them onto the balcony. They came, and saw two patrol craft heading back from the mountains, flying side by side.

Shilane said, "The one I took is on the left."

"Good," David said. "Now, I--," but he stopped. While the shuttle on the right kept a gentle, descending flight path, the other banked away sharply. Then it dipped. It bore down on the city and shaved close over the tops of buildings. It seemed it would fly directly into the western wall and crash, but whoever worked the controls got the nose up just in time. Then it shot into the sky, almost perpendicular with the ground.

"Brosomis," David said, walking straight through the balcony rail, "if I can get that one down safely, you'll owe me another favor." Then he launched himself in the direction of the rogue craft. It had levelled out about half a mile over the city. But it was hardly moving. When he caught up there was no operating noise, no draft to indicate thrust. And so the body tipped on its bulkier end and dropped.

David raced after it, speared through the hull. The cockpit, with space for two people, held five. One of them was the pregnant patroller

He chose her mind, though her fear had been pressed into her abdomen so it felt like being squeezed and made her baby restless. She fought to control herself because she could do little about the machine. The young man at the controls, who had overpowered her in the mountains and dragged her inside this stolen ship, had no idea what he was doing.

That was Hasi. She didn't know him; she only knew how he could hate. He'd hated how she refused to launch the craft for him; his thugs had to threaten to cut her child out of her. Then he hated having to watch her. He wanted control and he took it, though he allowed her to teach him a few things about steering. When he began to hate taking instruction he pretended not to need her anymore, pretended just to impress his friends. That changed when he nearly killed them all.

Now he was screaming at everyone. She tried to tell him, just the basics. He called her a liar, did the opposite of what she said, and then they stalled. Now they were in free fall.

David took a few more thoughts from her, some ideas for recovery, before he left to immerse himself in the mind of Sesom's protégé.

"Ahm-Lat Ahm-Lat I rely on you only, only--"

He placed himself behind the young man's eyes, and watched the viewing screens on the controls, which showed the ground coming to meet them too quickly. He had to push through a crazy monologue to pass on the patroller's knowledge.

"I am alone I am alone and always have been. Father left me Her Bi left me Sesom left me I will always be alone but alone is how the chosen always--"

Credit to the little lunatic, he did restart the engines, and they could level out if he would just direct thrust to their back. David gave him the facts again.

"Belief belief because I have belief and none of these not even these stupid oafs have it. They are only interested only interested but the belief of one is stronger than the interest of thousands."

He wouldn't listen anymore. David went back to the patroller, but she knew they were past the point of recovery. So he dropped through the fuselage, tore ahead of the craft and stopped. He had a fraction of a second to imagine he was soft enough to absorb its impact and strong enough to withstand the force. It didn't work. The whole mechanism shot past and left him behind.

He could see the city. The square had maybe one, two hundred people. The other patrol craft was hovering over the pavement, and he could hear shouts. They were trying to clear the space. David chased the dive-bombing ship a second time.

But the patroller was one idea ahead of him. He arrived in the cockpit just as she threw herself at Hasi. It knocked him over. That would give her precious little time before someone grabbed her. David didn't want to make himself visible in case she got distracted. He watched her take the controls, redirect and strengthen the thrust. It changed their trajectory slightly. The nose, that had pointed at the square, swung north and aimed directly at the prelate's palace.

Then she was kicked hard in the stomach, and buckled. David dove inside her, saw she wasn't finished, that she needed to make one more change. He knew there was no other option, so he put himself between her and the thug who was going to kick her again and made an appearance.

"Ahm-Lat! Ahm-Lat!" they all screamed. But the patroller, he hoped, would keep her head if she had this far. He looked back at her. She had hauled herself up to the controls, reached out a shaking hand to change thrust a little more. The viewing screens showed them so close to the palace he could recognize Shilane standing on the balcony. They sheared something off the north corner of the roof. Then they went on, beyond it, and he could see the target the patroller had in mind.

They hit the front of the prison. David rose through the top of the craft, engulfed by a hurricane of splinters, stone and dust as the facade collapsed. Then the shuttle exploded. Torn metal, glass and burning flesh all passed through his non-body. Fire went on ahead. He could remember the way to Cha Cha's cell, but there was no interior to recognize, just impenetrable smoke. He slid along the walls, the ones still standing. He reached the back of the building as the ceiling caved in. He had to slither through rubble like a snake.

But the bodies he found were greasy cinders. Nothing could identify them; they had no thoughts left to read. He flew up and away from the destruction.

## CHAPTER FIFTY

Behind the prison stood ranks of grounded patrol craft. Most were buried by the blast and a few were on fire. David, high above it all, watched the tiny figures of patrollers run from the palace to try and get surviving ships off the ground. Not many managed.

And in the city square people began to pull up paving stones again. Underneath there were pumps, some worked by hand and others with outlets that gave water automatically. Water was carried to the flames or poured into tanks on the useable patrol craft. They flew over the blaze and dropped their load in great, singular drenchings.

He stayed and watched until the worst fires were out. People who fled from nearby houses were met by strangers, wrapped in wedding streamers taken down from the trees. The food sellers arrived and set up their equipment; neighbors brought chairs and bedding into the streets and kept the homeless company.

But the oddest thing was his reaction. While he surveyed the damage and considered what it meant, David's thoughts kept returning to Saturday, the 18th of December, and the last time he had sex with his wife.

After the Christmas concert, they unlocked the front door with the happy knowledge that they had the house to themselves. And Lucy pulled him by the hand, because she wanted to show him the lights in the lounge. Her color scheme was red. Chili red lights snaked up the necks of their floor lamps. Round cherry lights blinked on the tree and made pink spots appear on white ornaments. She lit candles inside ruby tumblers that were lined up on the mantle. And, piece de resistance, she'd changed all the light bulbs. It made the room seem like they stood and kissed inside something with a heartbeat.

Why was he revisting this? Why, when Cha Cha was dead? But his mind, however it worked now, seemed on the verge of making a point. Did he remember Lucy made the offer by turning away and lifting her hair off the zipper on her dress? And didn't he think for an instant that she shouldn't, because he'd failed her?

But he had felt a pull. And it was the closest thing he could compare to the grip that got him when Sesom wandered away, when he coaxed and carried the Bormu through the forest, when Trena wept for Soren and when he watched the citizens of Usalm in the square. It hadn't even been two weeks' ago. He had opened Lucy's dress as far as her bra, kissed the freckles on her back and knew there was part of him she could always hold. Whether that would have been enough...well, it didn't matter now.

But being volax still allowed for some strong attractions. They came without emotion: he wasn't sad Cha Cha was gone and it was impossible to say he cared about two ships full of aliens he hardly knew. The drawing power was in the idea of attachment, responsibility, duty. And he could see now it had started growing from the moment he accepted the title of commander.

He saw Brosomis come out from the prelate's palace alone. She headed directly to the remains of the prison, walked round the scene, took it all in. She stopped at the back of the yard and talked with the patrollers who were digging up soil to throw on engine fires.

David came back to ground level, consolidated into the shape of Tarne and stepped up beside her. She startled, but quickly recovered. For a while they stood together without speaking.

"I'm sorry," David said at last. "I tried what I could."

The security chief shrugged. "Terrible to say this, but I've wanted this building torn down since I was a patroller. So old, and we hardly use it."

He thought of one inmate, talked about another. "Good thing Shilane wasn't there."

"Is it?" She looked at him, hard. "By this time tomorrow we'll have a new prelate, perhaps a new prince. Nahl-Ot will be taken to one of the penal colonies, so I don't hold much hope for--,"

"What are you talking about?"

"The prelate has been charged with gross insubordination, for not carrying out orders to destroy the Bormu."

"Where is he now?"

"In the conference room, waiting for the Emperor's bodyguard to arrive. They'll take him away."

David turned immediately. He entered the palace through the east wall and took the most direct route, on a diagonal, straight to the room. But when he got there it was empty. He flew through the building like a mad, invisible insect, drilled into any mind he met and asked for Nahl-Ot, the Emperor, Shilane. No one seemed to know about an arrest. Staff were clearing up in expectation of the conference tomorrow. The fire was a bad thing, but it was only the old prison. They thought it was an accident, and more concerned that it made the city look bad.

Finally, a woman who carried bowls of uneaten food recalled the strange business of seeing the prelate on the back stairs, which were only used by people like her or caretakers if they needed to get on the roof. The walls were so grimy, because there was access to the chimneys. She didn't see why he would risk getting his robes dirty.

David shot straight away, up through all three floors and onto the roof. He was just in time to meet the small party: the Emperor, Nahl-Ot and six men in familiar black uniform. He copied Tarne's form again, but let the edges of his clothing smoulder.

From the cloud complex behind him, he was fired on. The shots passed through to leave a trail of black holes where he walked. The team of bodyguards broke up and surrounded the Emperor. They left the prelate exposed.

"Nahl-Ot," David came and put a hand on his shoulder, like they were old friends. "We still have things to settle."

"Who is this?" the Emperor demanded. He could be heard but not seen, hidden behind his guards. David made a point of vanishing and reappearing inside his protective circle.

"I am Commander Sesom."

The little ruler of Wes tried to take the measure of him. "Commander Sesom is dead," he countered.

David ignored him. "The prelate has agreed to let me evacuate the Bormu from Omri."

"He told me nothing about this."

"There was no point. You wouldn't have believed him."

The Emperor sniffed. "Even if you're telling the truth, what do you think it will change?"

"It means Nahl-Ot obeyed your orders, in principle. If you check the mountains, you'll see the Bormu have gone."

"The Bormu were one of the reasons he was arrested. But only one."

"What were the others?"

"Behind you," the Emperor replied. "I invited the Ha to come here because their trading contacts are well known. Their technology is envied. Yet for some reason the prelate distrusted my decision, and felt it necessary to keep an attacking vessel camouflaged up here. Not good camouflage, I should add—no doubt some junk he bought from Rini or one of his other allies because they happen to be Ilaon."

"The vessel is mine."

The leader of Wes paused. "I see."

"And the prelate had nothing to do with its being here."

"And what am I supposed to make of you? If you are Sesom, you have picked an interesting time to arrive."

"I can see that now," David admitted.

"You are obviously something better than mortal. But whether you are better than Shen...,"

"Better than who?"

The little man looked away from him and up at the sky instead, though it was hazy with smoke. "You don't know Shen. Hmm." He seemed to follow the moving drifts with his eyes. David looked too, but couldn't see what was so interesting.

"The Ha have other names for him," the Emperoro went on. "He is a force to be taken seriously, as anyone who deals with him will know. And this is my other problem, Commander Sesom. Shen wants the prelate arrested."

"Why?"

"For holding one of his people prisoner."

David caught the eye of one Chinese bodyguard. The look didn't make him feel guilty, but he was struggling to think of his next move.

"Shen is speaking to me now," the Emperor said. "Would you like to see?" The little man pointed to the sky. David made Tarne's face frown.

"Shouldn't I be able to hear him?"

Wes laughed. "Come now, he says you don't need a voice. He tells me you know how to enter a mortal mind, and see the world through my eyes." The hand that wasn't pointing beckoned him. So he became invisible, made a second foyer inside the Emperor and suddenly realized what he had seen the last time, the sky with cloud writing. Only this time the air was darker, and the letters made with black smoke.

"Well done David. It was a bit rude not to pay your respects when you came on board, my ship, but I understand you were busy."

The curl of smoke that made the last letter coiled round and round, underlining the phrase. Then it burst, like an explosion of soot. A little dragon flapped the dust off its wings, and swooped down to the city square.

## CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

Fortunately, the tree Koda chose for a perch was surrounded by empty pavement. David nearly broke a branch when his magpie landed.

"You...," he began. "I don't even know where to start."

The bat cleaned its shiny blue belly, digging under the scales with the claws of its foot. It glanced at him, but there was no expression there

"What the hell has been going on?" David demanded.

"You've been...," Koda adjusted his grip on their branch, "observed."

"When? Where?"

"Almost continuously."

"You've been secretly watching everything I've done?"

"I'm afraid I missed the wedding, and your spectacular display. But I read a few minds—the citizens of Usalm will probably tell their grandchildren about you. You're very good; I can see why death was never going to be the end of your story."

David hopped to another perch, then another. "I could really have used some help."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"When I tried to make myself a safety net, and stop the patrol craft crashing."

"Surely not. Not even I could--,"

"—and I made a fog to..." with the new knowledge came a new realization. "Were you there? Did you let the cloud ship attack the Bormu?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because they appeared to be everything the Emperor of Wes said they were: paranoid, unstable, not able to deal with real life. In short, a danger."

"But they are mine."

The bat drew back its lips to show all its tiny teeth. "Really. How sudden! But that's our weakness."

"Sorry?"

Koda sprang from the tree and flew away, back towards the palace. David went after him. He caught up as they came over the roof, which was empty now except for their two ships. "I told the Emperor he should let the prelate stay home tonight and wait for my next instructions," Koda said. Then he banked right and dove into the aura of mist. David followed.

They entered the Ha cloud complex through the room full of data panels. The attendants looked up from their work to watch them sail past, curious but only in a mild way. A few smiled and bowed. Koda went on, passed through an identical room, then one with some kind of storage, then flew along an endless corridor. Finally, when they must have been miles from their entrance point, the older volax angled up and went straight for the ceiling.

Ceiling became floor. David arrived in a small but pleasantly presented apartment. It was good to see color on a ship, color and soft furniture and beautiful items with no other use. Then Koda changed. The baby dragon turned to dust and the dust rearranged itself into a short, chubby human with a moon round face, dressed in nothing but a sarong. He looked like a toddler, or a little Buddha.

"Not so pretty as you were," he said. "You hardly need to change shape."

"You were talking about our weakness," David reminded him.

"Exactly. Come." Koda led him to the corner of the room where there was an alcove, and through there an archway. This led to another room with table and chairs, and what looked like an abandoned game of cards. They went along a connecting passage but the Buddha pulled up short of the next doorway. "She'll recognize you," he said, "but not a magpie."

And he stretched out a dimpled arm, inviting his guest to go first. David took a moment to dissolve the bird shape and, in case appearances meant anything, present his old self wearing a suit. He ducked through the opening and found Cha Cha sitting up in bed, writing her diary.

"Hey!" she said, and jumped to her feet.

"Hey," he said, more to fill silence.

"Am I ever going to wake up?" she wanted to know. "Because that's what this is, right, me dreaming?" She launched into a chatty account of her recent adventures, which did have the right level of weirdness. He listened, even though she got her events out of order and had to backtrack. She was sending out that connecting warmth. Radiating, in fact.

'That's not coming from her.' Koda's words were writing themselves on the wall behind Cha Cha's head. 'That's you. Volax don't have feelings, because that would require a body. But ideas—have you noticed this—ideas can be so powerful. They build their own fire.'

And then the little Buddha appeared beside him. Cha Cha slumped onto the bed.

"No!" she protested. "No more strange stuff. I want to wake up."

"You are awake," David told her.

"Then what's going on?"

"I think we both need an explanation," David looked at Koda, who waddled to the bed and sat down too.

"As I was saying," he smoothed his sarong. "Volax are driven by ideas, and the first ideas they have matter most. Very often mortals provide the inspiration, because they are so needy. So, for example, you decided that a certain group of Ilaons needed your help--,"

"Well," David interrupted, but Koda went on.

"And also the Bormu, who aren't Ilaon but want to be. I don't envy you that task."

"It's not as simple as—,"

"But then it gets stranger. You've also got the Kroxi shamana. Though she makes sense, I suppose, because you have Fosani."

"Fosani?" Cha Cha asked.

"He means Brahm."

"But it's so messy," Koda exclaimed. "All these different people. Very unusual."

"I don't understand," David said.

"I'm saying you're the first volax I've met whose ideas have attached you to such a variety of mortals. I'd expect you to be more...well, tribal."

"Is that how it should be?"

"Should? Funny question. That's how it has been."

Cha Cha looked amazed at the whole conversation.

"And so," David went on, "you're attached to the Ha?"

"I have looked after them wherever they settled. Including Earth."

"Earth wasn't the first place?"

"Earth is never the first place. Didn't I say? You're out of the way."

"What were we, then? An accident?" Cha Cha asked.

Koda glanced at her, bit his lip, then looked away. "Another time, maybe. David, it isn't often a new volax comes along. Never mind a volax with Fosani."

"Does that mean something?"

"It has to." The little Buddha spread his plump arms. "That is how the universe changes."

David frowned and shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Maybe you don't," Koda said, "maybe you don't. But I couldn't be sure, when I found you. And even if I was, there's still the future."

"I've got no hostile intentions, if that's what you're worried about. None. And that's in spite the fact you've killed people I was trying to save." The older volax looked unconvinced. "And I'm grateful you rescued Cha Cha."

"Not rescued," Koda corrected him, "claimed."

***

Dear Nemo,

After all the negotiating was over and they'd gone, a new person magically appeared in my dining room. Very nice this time, cheeky grin and a fringe falling lightly over his eyes, a strong jaw. I said hello and he said, "My name is Junjie. I am assigned to be your companion."

Like a fool I asked, "What happened to Gen?" But Junjie just went to the table, where the game was waiting.

"We can play shen, if you like."

Well, I know a little more now, don't I? David made sure. I know where I am, and I know Koda. Quite obvious that he took advantage of my ignorance when he brought me here. And yet he had to visit Brahm, because I asked, and he had to lay out his reasons in full and he couldn't play tricks. Brahm heard it all and was fine. What does that say? Far as I'm concerned, that makes it a risk I should take.

"All right," I said to Junjie, "let's play."

We sat down. While he poured fresh tea, I showed him the one card Gen let me turn over. He grinned. "A good start," he said enthusiastically, "a very good start."

I fanned myself with the baby dragon, pretty sure that whatever he thought, I thought the same. Wouldn't it be cool if it turned out I already understood this game? If I really was a witch?

"Here's how I see it, Junjie," I told him. "David and Koda aren't enemies, but they aren't friends either. They can't afford to trust each other, so they have to keep some kind of link. That's what I am. Like a diplomat."

Or a spy. But I didn't say that. I blew on my tea and took a sip. Junjie's cup waited; he held it under his chin, and I guess he was thinking. His free hand, hung limp over the cards, suddenly twitched. It dropped down and two fingers went for a walk over the table. They picked up my metal token, fetched his, and closed them into his fist. He shook them. He watched me as the coins chattered; he watched me as they fell. One hit the table with a hard noise, spun. One made a dull thud.

If Junjie's token had gone any further, it would have been on the floor. Mine landed on one of the stacks of extra cards, inside the shen circle. Junjie...I am probably putting thoughts in his head, that he cared about the distance between the two coins, and that was the reason he lost the pretty dimple in his cheek. But he might have changed his face for another reason.

"That will be your next future," he said, tapping the card under my token. So I lifted the little disk and drew out the card it covered. I flipped it to look at the picture side, shrugged, and showed it to him. He cared then.

## CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

He wouldn't call it 'doing the rounds' He never felt the need to plan which parts of the ship he visited or even which ship. Today he spent with Mab. The Ha cloud complex finally left the palace roof so they could assess the damage caused by the impact. They invited the prelate on board to see the vessel that had been relegated to myth, and meet his new citizens.

That took most of the day. David flew back to the mountains at dusk. On board Brahm's ship it was later. He passed through an empty Control Room, through the commander's quarters where Tarne had dozed off in the black chair in front of his screens. Coming out to the corridor he saw the mehltrom entrance flash.

"When did you last rest?" David appeared beside Shamana Vavnu in the compartment.

"Brahm's been...active," was all she would say.

"And you've lost your assistant."

She huffed one of those dry laughs, all that a tired head could manage. "I have this fear you'll suggest I pick a new one."

"Really?"

"You'll say 'what about Sesom'?" Since she was still laughing, he took it she gave him more credit than that.

"Sesom," he stressed anyway, "is not staying."

"Where will he go?"

The mehltrom opened at Medical. The doctor spoke with Demos, doing night watch, but there were no real problems. The worst burn victims needed pain relief; they were dosed cautiously and Tarne's nephew kept notes. Once they'd moved on, out of earshot, David took up the subject again.

"He wants to find his brother."

"But Arnor would be dead."

"He's had dreams, he tells me."

"Brahm has been dreaming about holes in the ground," the doctor said absently, "very deep holes."

Turning down the corridor where the patients' slept, you could tell which room belonged to the Udoran. The entrance wall had been built over, enclosed by a portico that extended into the passage and went right to the ceiling. It was solid gold.

"A bit...," David searched for the word as they approached. "Unless Brahm likes that sort of thing."

"It's not decoration," Vavnu insisted, "it's recognition."

They stepped into the porch. Light from overhead swept down the pillars either side and left a sheen. And when the wall opened it dazzled. The doctor had to cover her eyes.

There was more gold within. Shelves had been fitted to either side of the entrance and a gold table faced them. There was dense rug underfoot. And the whole space had been divided in half by curtains that went from ceiling to floor. The fabric was heavy, weighted with more glittering embroidery. They both took a moment to notice the air, but it was quiet and unexceptional.

"There," David said, "nothing. Your pendant does work." Vavnu shrugged, fingered the chain round her neck. Another gift from Koda, it connected with Brahm's sedan to monitor his heart rate and temperature. She didn't quite trust it. "Now get some sleep. I'll stay."

He seeped through the curtains. The Udoran could steer his new bed, and had angled it so he could reach the monitor. He was scrolling through a list of their new passengers. David stopped thinking of three dimensions, painted a moving image on himself down the wall beside the screen.

"Who would have thought?" he said

Brahm looked at him quizzically. "Is that a question?"

"I was just remembering the first time we met. That was only a month ago."

The Udoran took his hand off the display and touched the wall instead. He watched the light and color of David flicker over his own skin. "Time," he confessed, "has a different quality now."

"Everything has--," David didn't bother to finish. "It went well in the city, by the way. You should have seen the Ilaons. Every family wanted to meet the prelate. They lined up in the feeding station so Mab could introduce them. Shilane came with Trena, and oddly enough they seem to be—ah, see, what do I sound like?"

"Your voice is the same as it--,"

"No, no--," David peeled off the wall, walked straight through the sedan and into the curtain. He made the hem quiver. "How can I act like this? Two months ago I would never, ever, on pain of death--,"

And then he stopped again. Brahm said, "Two months ago you were not volax."

"Even so," he went on, "how am I managing to treat this as if it's ordinary life? I left ordinary life only days ago -- and frankly I have no idea what I'm doing or why."

Brahm lifted a hand off his satin quilt, and let it drop. "I am the same."

"But you see things."

"Some things."

"But you must feel...," He waited, but just could not come up with a way to talk about what he wanted Brahm to explain.

"I feel," Brahm began. Then his head rolled to one side, and he seemed to take refuge in the list of names on the screen. He scrolled through it a bit too quickly. David waited for the air to change, but that didn't happen. "I don't understand," the Udoran said at last.

"What if it's true, what Koda says? What if you and I are meant to change the universe?"

"I hardly know the universe," Brahm replied.

"Exactly. And it's larger, I'm sure. Judging from what I've read...," David pictured the Ha complex, and the data he'd got from their panels. It was eye opening, the number of planets with life and things that weren't planets exactly, or life...exactly.

"Has there been anything good about all this weirdness," David asked, "for you?"

Brahm had deactivated his monitor. He drew the quilt up around his shoulders and sighed deeply as he sank into his pillows. "I sleep better."

-END OF THE FIRST BOOK OF CHANGES-

## About the Author

Heather Douglass would love to have more to brag about in this section, she really would. Truth is, she just loves writing in general and Shen in particular. She was born in Canada but lives in England with her husband. This is her first published novel.

You can meet her on Twitter by following @HeatherDouglass

## Sneak Preview: Shen, Book Two
Chapter One

Urine in the pot had turned grey, just like her. But it was also cloudy. A single bubble swelled on the surface, making room for itself with the others already there.

So Omrah called for her girl, who carried the pot from the cave. It was taken outside, where a lip of rock stuck out from the mountainside, and at its furthest edge was an altar of stacked stones. The pot would rest there.

The old woman followed as quickly as she could. She stood over the brim and waited until the liquid stopped sloshing, waited more until the surface did not so much as tremble.

Beside her the girl swept yesterday's ashes from the pit. She made a new fire. She fetched the long handled skillet and two jars from their stores. In the pan she put three beads of tamish sap, a measure of donated breast milk and her own spit. These were combined by swirling the mixture until the sap dissolved, but nothing else changed. So the girl spat again. Then the milk curdled, and when she placed it over the heat, it turned black.

"A man," Omrah said as she watched the procedure. "I sense a man approaching."

And the old priestess thought about men she knew. Like the census takers, dozens of them -- they were always young and completely unprepared for what they found when they came to the Amosis ridge. You never saw the same one twice.

There was also the prelate's Envoy for Primal Societies. Omrah had known the last five holders of that job, but two were women and three were surely dead. She thought of the prelate himself, Nahl-Ot. They'd never met, but the reports of him were good.

But it did not feel like any of these. It could be another prospector, but they came in pairs. They broke the law in every nation whose borders met here, but the legends always drew more. Two people were essential – it was dangerous work.

Omrah's mind rejected all these ideas, and had none left. On rare occasions, a visitor would come out of sheer curiosity. They had to be discouraged, by whatever means.

The girl had finished her cooking. The old woman backed away, so she could lift the hot skillet over the pot and pour. The piss boiled up. Then the girl moved too, holding her nose, because the steam could not be breathed.

While the mixture cooled, they observed the land beyond the ledge. Below them were the lower caves, and then the terraces. Omrah waved when she recognized the girl's mother and sisters, up early to dig their plot. Their land was level with the tops of the trees that grew in the gorge. Down in the forest there would be more women, foraging or setting traps or fetching water.

And one of those must have spotted the man Omrah foresaw, because a cry went up. The old woman responded with a cough and waddled back to the pot. The contents had thickened but not gone hard. She could ask now and get a quick impression. The better information might have to wait for later.

"Get my chair," she said.

The girl went into the cave and came back with a high stool. She had to help her mistress climb on it and then hold her round the waist so she couldn't fall. Omrah spread her legs and bent deep so her eyes looked straight into the glassy surface of dark urine.

"Ahm-Lat leris nila-bardo."

Behind her, the girl repeated the phrase. She was good; she had the right intonation. Omrah felt surer every day that the girl would take her place, when the time was right.

"Ahm-Lat leris nila-bardo," they chanted in unison. Omrah began to rock, and her vision blurred. The yellow beads round her neck slapped her on the chin. She felt for the girl's hands in the folds of her stomach and gripped them tight.

"Ahm-Lat leris nila-bardo." Ahm-Lat, open our illusions.

She said it to confess that nothing they saw was anything. The forest, the mountains, the caves – that reality was meant for others. Their world was hidden beneath that, never far but it had to be coaxed. Three more times they recited the words, before the old woman got a glimpse.

"Arnor!!" she howled.

She sat up so fast the stool toppled backwards. The poor girl's body was the only cushion that kept her ancient bones from breaking. Her apprentice cried out too, partly from the impact but partly from shock, because she had heard the name. Omrah alone could pronounce it, but never in the open.

The old woman apologized instinctively.

"It's fine," the girl assured her.

She rolled her mistress over so she lay on her side. She checked first that toes and fingers could be flexed, elbows and knees bent. Where Omrah felt sore she checked the skin under her clothes for bruises. Then she took the stool back into the cave, returned with a sturdier chair and put that near the fire. She helped the old woman sit in it.

Without asking what was wanted next, she fetched a jar of nohen leaves and two cups. She scraped the skillet clean and filled it with water. Omrah watched the water boil, then the tea brew. She could hear women calling their names from the forest.

But it was difficult to talk. The priestess knew the sound of Arnor's name rang inside the girl's head. That had been her ordination. The baffling thing was why no warning came first, why the pot chose to frighten the word out of Omrah. If it happened because two priestesses were needed, then the situation was very grave. And this man who came to visit must be like no other.

They poured and drank tea while the calling went on, and word was passed from the forest to the terraces and from cave to cave. Eventually they heard gravel scattered by feet that climbed the narrow path to their sanctuary.

Omrah asked the girl to turn her chair so she would face him.

But the person who lowered himself onto their ledge didn't touch the ground. He didn't have feet. His cloak was hooked with the government clasp of Five Allies and the sash was highest rank. But this wasn't Prince Musgyl; it wasn't a man at all. Omrah felt a moment's doubt of her intuition.

This apparition bowed at the neck. "High priestess," he said, "I am David."

"David," Omrah repeated the strange sound. "I don't know any god by that name."

"Neither do I," he replied. And then a second man appeared on the ledge. His clothes were plain; he might have been a servant.

The old woman tapped the girl's arm. "Help me up." Omrah rose, albeit stiffly, and came closer to the important one. "Who are you? Why have you come?"

"I'm only a chaperone," David told her. And he pointed to the servant. "This is the man who wants your help." And he moved aside. She gave them both long and suspicious stares.

"If you mock me," she warned, "you mock more than me."

"No," the servant insisted. He turned to David. "Could you leave now?"

The cloaked one shrugged. "Okay."

"And you must go. Not turn invisible."

"All right." David's cloak billowed out like wings and he wafted up, going over the altar. Omrah watched, intrigued. The apparition rose until it was level with the top of the ridge. Then it began to drift with the prevailing wind and floated away south. Now and again it met a crag of rock along the uneven summit. It simply passed through.

A very peculiar thing. A god who was not Ahm-Lat had blown in and left her with a stranger, an Ilaon. The old woman went back to her chair.

"Why have you come?" she asked.

"I am Sesom," he said.

The girl rushed over. She raised a hand to slap his face and he would have blocked her. At the last instant he dropped his guard and took the punishment.

"Mother, he should die!"

"He should," Omrah agreed.

"I can prove it," the man said.

"Show your proof, then."

He reached inside his robes and offered the girl a stone discus. She took it, read the inscription herself before she showed it to her mistress.

"My brother made two," the man explained. "And I know he came here. It was a long time ago, but--,"

Omrah patted her lips to make him stop talking. "Give this back," she instructed the girl, "and pour him tea."

"I'll need more water."

"I know."

Of course the girl was wary about leaving them alone. But the old woman wasn't afraid. This man, this Sesom, was nothing like the description that had been passed down from priestess to priestess over the generations. This man looked tired and pale.

"So," Omrah said, "you have returned." She put her cup on the ground and wiped her mouth. "Your brother hoped it wouldn't be like this."

"What did he hope?"

"That the sleep would be short."

"I had no control over the sleep."

"Perhaps not."

"Is Arnor alive?" he asked.

"Not to the living."

"I don't understand."

"I mean he lives in the opposite."

"I still...don't understand."

She could hear how that sentence broke in two, how in the second part he tamed a voice that was starting to sound impatient.

"Didn't he prepare you for this?"

Sesom sighed. "He said 'sleep, and then we meet again'."

The high priestess blew out a long breath. Then she saw humor in it, enough for one short sniffy laugh. "He never told us he thought so much of you."

"What do you mean?"

"To ask you to travel so far to find him."

"I've only come from Mount So."

Omrah shook her head. "Consider that the easy part of your journey."

The girl returned with more water. As the skillet was heating, the old woman said, "We can add something to your tea that will help you stand the pain."

"Pain?"

"Pain," Omrah stressed. "Because my girl was right. If you are Sesom, you must die."

She didn't add the fact that Arnor would allow him to flee, right now, if he wanted. She certainly couldn't stop him. And none of the other women would think twice if they saw a stranger run from the sanctuary. It was her job to keep outsiders afraid.

The fact that he stayed there, accepted and drank his tea, then waited inside while the girl prepared for the rite of passage and Omrah changed clothes -- this convinced her more than his stone discus, if that were needed.

They took him to the back of the cave, to the space between the two stalactites, whose accumulated dripping over centuries had extended them to the floor and thickened them into pillars. They wrapped him in layers of fur and cloth, whatever they could spare. When he couldn't stand up for the wrappings they helped him lie down. He asked why they dug away at the mud on either side of his neck.

"To collect the blood," Omrah said. "The blood is important."

Then he did ask for the drug. He took it in water, and while they waited for his eyes to glaze over the old woman told him things only the priestesses knew. Arnor oversaw the building of four ships in total, before the persecution made it impossible. He travelled to many places—some he would talk about, others not. He came back to Omri a wiser and stronger man, and he married. His wife and his daughters were founders of the priesthood.

To distract him while the girl sharpened the knife, Omrah showed him Arnor's discus, kept where an indentation had been cut into the left stalactite. "We will make a space for yours," she assured him.

"I see him in dreams," he slurred.

"He is dreams."

And then it was time.
