It had been silent for sixty years. Then, above the receiving stage in
the laboratory tower of the royal place of Toromon, the great
transparent crystal sphere glowed.
On the stage a blue haze shimmered. Red flame shot through the mist, a
net of scarlet, contracting, pulsing, outlining the recognizable
patterning of veins and arteries. Among the running fires, the shadow of
bones formed a human skeleton in the blue, till suddenly the shape was
laced with sudden silver, the net of nerves that held the body
imprisoned in sensation. The blue became opaque. Then the black-haired
man, barefooted, in rags, staggered forward to the rail and held on for
a moment. Above, the crystal faded.
He blinked his eyes hard before he looked up. He looked around. "All
right," he said out loud. "Where the hell are you?" He paused. "Okay.
Okay. I know. I'm not supposed to get dependent on you. I guess I'm all
right now, aren't I?" Another pause. "Well, I feel fine." He let go of
the rail and looked at his hands, back and palms. "Dirty as hell," he
mumbled. "Wonder where I can get washed up." He looked up. "Yeah, sure.
Why not?" He ducked under the railing and vaulted to the floor. Once
again he looked around. "So I'm really in the castle. After all these
years. I never thought I'd see it. Yeah, I guess it really is."
He started forward, but as he passed under the shadow of the great
ribbon's end, something happened.
He faded.
At least the exposed parts of his body--head, hands, and feet--faded. He
stopped and looked down. Through his ghost-like feet, he could see the
rivets that held down the metal floor. He made a disgusted face, and
continued toward the door. Once in the sunlight, he solidified again.
There was no one in the hall. He walked along, ignoring the triptych of
silver partitions that marked the consultant chamber. A stained glass
window further on rotated by silent machinery flung colors over his face
as he passed. A golden disk chronometer fixed in the ceiling behind a
carved crystal face said ten-thirty.
Suddenly he stopped in front of a book cabinet and opened the glass
door. "Here's the one," he said out loud again. "Yeah, I know we haven't
got time, but it will explain it to you better than I can." He pulled a
book from the row of books. "We used this in school," he said. "A long
time ago."
The book was Catham's _Revised History of Toromon_. He opened the
sharkskin cover and flipped a few pages into the text.
"... from a few libraries that survived the Great Fire (from which we
will date all subsequent events). Civilization was reduced beyond
barbarism. But eventually the few survivors on the Island of Toron
established a settlement, a village, a city. Now they pushed to the
mainland, and the shore became the central source of food for the
island's population which now devoted itself to manufacturing. On the
coast, farms and fishing villages flourished. On the island, science and
industry became sudden factors in the life of Toromon, now an empire.
"Beyond the plains at the coast, explorers discovered the forest people
who lived in the strip of jungle that held in its crescent the stretch
of mainland. They were a mutant breed, gigantic in physical stature,
peaceful in nature. They quickly became part of Toromon's empire, with
no resistance.
"Beyond the jungle were the gutted fields of lava and dead earth, and it
was here that the strange metal tetron was discovered. A great empire
has a great crime rate, and our penal system was used to supply miners
for the tetron. Now technology leaped ahead, and we developed many uses
for the power that could be released from the tetron.
"Then, beyond the lava fields, we discovered what it was that had
enlarged the bodies of the forest people, what it was that had killed
all green things beyond the jungle. Lingering from the days of the Great
Fire, a wide strip of radioactive land still burned all around the lava
fields, cutting us off from further expansion.
"Going toward that field of death, the plants became gnarled, distorted
caricatures of themselves. Then only rock. Death was long if a man
ventured in and came back. First immense thirst; then the skin dries
out; blindness, fever, madness, at last death; this is what awaited the
transgressor.
"It was at the brink of the radiation barrier, in defiance of death,
that Telphar was established. It was far enough away to be safe, yet
near enough to see the purple glow at the horizon over the broken
hills. At the same time, experiments were being conducted with
elementary matter transmission, and as a token to this new direction of
science, the transit ribbon was commissioned to link the two cities. It
was more a gesture of the solidarity of Toromon's empire than a
practical appliance. Only three or four hundred pounds of matter could
be sent at once, or two or three people. The transportation was
instantaneous, and portended a future of great exploration to any part
of the world, with theoretical travel to the stars.
"Then, at seven thirty-two on an autumn evening, sixty years
ago, a sudden increase in the pale light was observed in the
radiation-saturated west by the citizens of Telphar. Seven hours later
the entire sky above Telphar was flickering with streaks of pale blue
and yellow. Evacuation had begun already. But in three days, Telphar was
dead. The sudden rise in radiation has been attributed to many things in
theory, but as yet, an irrefutable explanation is still wanted.
"The advance of the radiation stopped well before the tetron mines;
however, Telphar was not lost to Toron for good, and ..."
Jon suddenly closed the book. "You see?" he said. "That's why I was
afraid when I saw where I was. That's why ..." He stopped, shrugged.
"You're not listening," he said, and put the book back on the shelf.
Down the hallway fifty feet, two ornate stairways branched right and
left. He waited with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking absently
toward another window, like a person waiting for someone else to make up
his mind. But the decision was not forthcoming. At last, belligerently
he started up the stairway to the left. Halfway up he became a little
more cautious, his bare feet padding softly, his broad hand preceding
him wearily on the banister.
He turned down another hallway where carved busts and statues sat in
niches in the walls, a light glowing blue behind those to the left,
yellow behind those to the right. A sound from around a corner sent him
behind a pink marble mermaid playing with a garland of seaweed.
The old man who walked by was carrying a folder and looked serenely and
patiently preoccupied.
Jon waited without breathing the space of three ordinary breaths. Then
he ducked out and sprinted down the hall. At last he stopped before a
group of doors. "Which one?" he demanded.
This time he must have gotten an answer, because he went to one, opened
it, and slipped in.
* * * * *
Uske had pulled the silken sheet over his head. He heard several small
clicks and tiny brushing noises, but they came through the fog of sleep
that had been washing back over him since Chargill's departure. The
first sound definite enough to wake him was water against tile. He
listened to it for nearly two minutes through the languid veil of
fatigue. It was only when it stopped that he frowned, pushed back the
sheet, and sat up. The door to his private bath was open. The light was
off, but someone, or thing, was apparently finishing a shower. The
windows of his room were covered with thick drapes, but he hesitated to
push the button that would reel them back from the sun.
He heard the rings of the shower curtain sliding along the shower rod;
the rattle of the towel rack; silence; a few whistled notes. Suddenly he
saw that dark spots were forming on the great fur rug that sprawled
across the black stone floor. One after another--footprints! Incorporeal
footprints were coming toward him slowly.
When they were about four feet away from his bed, he slammed the flat of
his palm on the button that drew back the curtains. Sunlight filled the
room like bright water.
And standing in the last pair of footprints was the sudden, naked figure
of a man. He leaped at Uske as the King threw himself face down into the
mound of pillows and tried to scream at the same time. Immediately he
was caught, pulled up, and the edge of a hand was thrust into his open
mouth so that when he bit down, he chomped the inside of his cheeks.
"Will you keep still, stupid?" a voice whispered behind him. The King
went limp.
"There, now just a second."
A hand reached past Uske's shoulder, pressed the button on the night
table by the bed, and the curtains swept across the window. The hand
went out as if it had been a flame.
"Now you keep still and be quiet."
The pressure released and the King felt the bed give as the weight
lifted. He held still for a moment. Then he whirled around. There wasn't
anyone there.
"Where do you keep your clothes, huh? You always were about my size."
"Over there ... there in that closet."
The bodiless footprints padded over the fur rug, and the closet door
opened. Hangers slid along the rack. The bureau at the back of the
closet was opened. "This'll do fine. I didn't think I was ever going to
get into decent clothes again. Just a second."
There was the sound of tearing thread.
"This jacket will fit me all right, once I get these shoulder pads out
of it."
Something came out of the closet, dressed now: a human form, only
without head or hands.
"Now that I'm decent, open up those curtains and throw some light around
the place." The standing suit of clothes waited. "Well, come on, open
the curtains."
Slowly Uske reached for the button. A freshly shaven young man with
black hair stood in the sunlight, examining his cuffs. An open brocade
jacket with metal-work filigree covered a white silk shirt that laced
over a wide V-neck. The tight gray trousers were belted with a broad
strip of black leather and fastened with a gold disk. The black boots,
opened at the toe and the heel, were topped with similar disks. Jon
Koshar looked around. "It's good to be back."
"Who ... what are you?" whispered Uske.
"Loyal subject of the crown," said Jon, "you squid-brained clam."
Uske sputtered.
"Think back about five years to when you and I were in school together."
A flicker of recognition showed in the blond face.
"You remember a kid who was a couple of years ahead of you, and got you
out of a beating when the kids in the mechanics class were going to gang
up on you because you'd smashed a high-frequency coil, on purpose. And
remember you dared that same kid to break into the castle and steal the
royal Herald from the throne room? In fact, you gave him the fire-blade
to do it, too. Only that wasn't mentioned in the trial. Did you also
alert the guards that I was coming? I was never quite sure of that
part."
"Look ..." began Uske. "You're crazy."
"I might have been a little crazy then. But five years out in the tetron
mines has brought me pretty close to my senses."
"You're a murderer...."
"It was in self-defense, and you know it. Those guards that converged on
me weren't kidding. I didn't kill him on purpose. I just didn't want to
get my head seared off."
"So you seared one of their heads off first. Jon Koshar, I think you're
crazy. What are you doing here anyway?"
"It would take too long to explain. But believe me, the last thing I
came back for was to see you again."
"So you come in, steal my clothing" Suddenly he laughed. "Oh, of course.
I'm dreaming all this. How silly of me. I must be dreaming."
Jon frowned.
Uske went on. "I must be feeling guilty about that whole business when
we were kids. You keep on disappearing and appearing. You can't possibly
be more than a figment of my imagination. Koshar! The name! Of course.
That's the name of the people who are giving the party that I'm going to
once I wake up. That's the reason for the whole thing."
"What party?" Jon demanded.
"Your father is giving it for your sister. Yes, that's right. You had
quite a pretty sister. I'm going back to sleep now. And when I wake up,
you're to be gone, do you understand? What a silly dream."
"Just a moment. Why are you going?"
Uske snuggled his head into the pillow. "Apparently your father has
managed to amass quite a fortune. Chargill says I have to treat him
kindly so we can borrow money from him later on. Unless I'm dreaming
that up too."
"You're not dreaming."
Uske opened one eye, closed it again. And rolled over onto the pillow.
"Tell that to my cousin, the Duchess of Petra. She was dragged all the
way from her island estate to come to this thing. The only people who
are getting out of it are mother and my kid brother. Lucky starfish."
"Go back to sleep," said Jon.
"Go away," said Uske. He opened his eyes once more to see Jon push the
button that pulled the curtains. And then the headless, handless figure
went to the door and out. Uske shivered and pulled the covers up again.
* * * * *
Jon walked down the hall.
Behind the door to one room that he did not enter, the red-headed
Duchess of Petra was standing by the window of her apartment, gazing
over the roofs of the city, the great houses of the wealthy merchants
and manufacturers, over the hive-like buildings which housed the city's
doctors, clerks, secretaries, and storekeepers, down to the reeking
clapboard and stone alleys of the Devil's Pot.
The early sun lay flame in her hair and whitened her pale face. She
pushed the window open a bit, and the breeze waved her blue robe as she
absently fingered a smoky crystal set in a silver chain around her neck.
* * * * *
Jon continued down the hall.
Three doors away, the old queen lay on the heap of over-stuffed
mattresses, nestled in the center of an immense four-poster bed. Her
white hair was coiled in two buns on either side of her head, her mouth
was slightly open and a faint breath hissed across the white lips. On
the wall above the bed hung the portrait of the late King Alsen,
sceptered, official, and benevolent.
* * * * *
In a set of rooms just beside the queen mother's chamber, Let, Prince of
the Royal Blood, Heir Apparent to the Empire of Toromon, and half a
dozen more, was sitting in just his pajama top on the edge of his bed,
knuckling his eyes.
The thin limbs of the thirteen-year-old were still slightly akimbo with
natural awkwardness and sleep. Like his brother, he was blond and
slight.
Still blinking, he slipped into his underwear and trousers, pausing a
moment to check his watch. He fastened the three snaps on his shirt,
turned to the palace intercom, and pressed a button.
"I overslept, Petra," Let apologized. "Anyway, I'm up now."
"You must learn to be on time. Remember, you are heir to the throne of
Toromon. You mustn't forget that."
"Sometimes I wish I could," replied Let. "Sometimes."
"Never say that again," came the sudden command through the tiny
intercom. "Do you hear me? Never even let yourself think that for a
moment."
"I'm sorry, Petra," Let said. His cousin, the Duchess, had been acting
strangely since her arrival two days ago. Fifteen years his senior, she
was still the member of the family to whom he felt closest. Usually,
with her, he could forget the crown that was always being pointed to as
it dangled above his head. His brother was not very healthy, nor
even--as some rumored--all in his proper mind. Yet now it was Petra
herself who was pointing out the gold circlet of Toromon's kingship. It
seemed a betrayal. "Anyway," he went on. "Here I am. What did you want?"
"To say good morning." The smile in the voice brought a smile to Let's
face too. "Do you remember that story I told you last night, about the
prisoners in the tetron mines?"
"Sure," said Let, who had fallen asleep thinking about it. "The ones who
were planning an escape." She had sat in the garden with him for an hour
after dark, regaling him with the harrowing details of three prisoners'
attempt to escape the penal mines. She had terminated it at the height
of suspense with the three men crouching by the steps in the darkness
and the drizzling rain, waiting to make their dash into the forest. "You
said you were going to go on with it this morning."
"Do you really want to hear the end of the story?"
"Of course I do. I couldn't get to sleep for hours thinking about it."
"Well," said Petra, "when the guard changed, and the rope tripped him up
when he was coming down the steps, the rear guard ran around to see what
had happened, as planned, and they dashed through the searchlight beam,
into the forest, and ..." She paused. "Anyway, one of them made it. The
other two were caught and killed."
"Huh?" said Let. "Is that all?"
"That's about it," said Petra.
"What do you mean?" Let demanded. Last night's version had contained
detail upon detail of the prisoners' treatment, their efforts to dig a
tunnel, the precautions they took, along with an uncannily vivid
description of the scenery that had made him shiver as though he had
been in the leaky, rotten-walled shacks. "You can't just finish it up
like that," he exclaimed. "How did they get caught? Which one got away?
Was it the chubby one with the freckles? How did they die?"
"Unpleasantly," Petra answered. "No, the chubby one with the freckles
didn't make it. They brought him, and the one with the limp, back that
morning in the rain and dropped them in the mud outside the barracks to
discourage further escape attempts."
"Oh," said Let. "What about the one who did make it?" he asked after a
moment.
Instead of answering, she said, "Let, I want to give you a warning." The
prince stiffened a bit, but she began differently than he expected.
"Let, in a little while, you may be going on quite an adventure, and you
may want to forget some things, because it will be easier. Like being
the prince of Toromon. But don't forget it, Let. Don't."
"What sort of adventure, Petra?"
Again she did not answer his question. "Let, do you remember how I
described the prison to you? What would you do if you were king and
those prisoners were under your rule, with their rotten food, the rats,
their fourteen hours of labor a day in the mines ..."
"Well, I don't know, Petra," he began, feeling as if something were
being asked of him that he was reluctant to give. It was like when his
history teacher expected him to know the answer on a question of
government just because he had been born into it. "I suppose I'd have to
consult the council, and see what Chargill said. It would depend on the
individual prisoners, and what they'd done; and of course how the people
felt about it. Chargill always says you shouldn't do things too
quickly ..."
"I know what Chargill says," said the Duchess quietly. "Just remember
what I've said, will you?"
"What about the third man, the one who escaped?"
"He ... came back to Toron."
"He must have had a lot more adventures. What happened to him, Petra?
Come on, tell me."
"Actually," said Petra, "he managed to bypass most of the adventures. He
came very quickly. Let me see. After they dashed across the searchlit
area, they ducked into the jungle. Almost immediately the three got
separated. The black-haired one got completely turned around, and
wandered in the wrong direction until he had gone past the mines, out of
the forest, and across the rocky stretch of ground beyond a good five
miles. By the time it was light enough to see, he suddenly realized he
had been wandering toward the radiation barrier; because in the
distance, like a black skeleton on the horizon, were the abandoned ruins
of Telphar, the Dead City."
"Shouldn't he have been dead from the radiation?"
"That's exactly what he figured. In fact, he figured if he was close
enough to see the place, he should have been dead a few miles back. He
was tired. The food they'd taken kept him from being hungry. But he was
definitely alive. Finally he decided that he might as well go toward
the city. He took two steps more, when suddenly he heard something."
There was silence over the intercom.
After he had allowed sufficient time for a dramatic pause, Let asked,
"What was it? What did he hear?"
"If you ever hear it," Petra said, "you'll know it."
"Come on, Petra, what was it?"
"I'm quite serious," Petra said. "That's all I know of the story. And
that's all you need to know. Maybe I'll be able to finish it when I come
back from the party tonight."
"Please, Petra ..."
"That's it."
He paused for a minute. "Petra, is the adventure I'm supposed to have,
the war? Is that why you're reminding me not to forget?"
"I wish it were that simple, Let. Let's say that's part of it."
"Oh," said Let.
"Just promise to remember the story, and what I've said."
"I will," said Let, wondering. "I will."
* * * * *
Jon walked down a long spiral staircase, nodded to the guard at the
foot, passed into the castle garden, paused to squint at the sun, and
went out the gate. Getting in was a lot more difficult.