Ciaran stroked the harpstrings. "Wait...." It was all humanity crying
out of the harp. Little people, lost and frightened and pleading for
help. No voice could have said what it said. It was Ciaran himself, a
channel for the unthinking pain inside him.
"Wait--You were human once. You were young. You laughed and quarrelled
and ate and slept, and you were free. That's all we ask. Just those
things. Remember Bas the fisherman's son, and help us!"
Grey eyes looking at him. Grey eyes looking from a boy's face. "How
could I help you even if I wanted to?"
"There's some power left in the Stone. And the androids are your
creatures. You made them. You can destroy them. If you could do it
before they finish this thing--from the way they spoke, they mean to
destroy you with it."
Bas laughed.
Ciaran's hand struck a terrible chord from the harp, and fell away.
Bas said heavily, "They'll draw power from the gravitic force of the
planet and broadcast it the same way. It will never stop as long as the
planet spins. If they finish it in time, the world will live. If they
don't...." He shrugged. "What difference does it make?"
"So," whispered Ciaran, "we have a choice of a quick death, or a
lingering one. We can die free, on our own feet, or we can die slaves."
His voice rose to a full-throated shout. "_God! You're no god!_ You're
a selfish brat sulking in a corner. All right, go back to your Marsali!
And I'll play god for a minute."
He raised the harp.
"I'll play god, and give 'em the clean way out!"
He drew his arm back to throw--to smash the crystal web. And then, with
blinding suddenness, there was light again.
They stood frozen, the two of them, blinking in the hot opalescence.
Then their eyes were drawn to the crystal web.
The Stone of Destiny still fluttered like a dying heart, and the
crystal rods were dim.