The Dance of Time

Will it. .

Yes. Destroy the girl's body and you destroy Link. It does not 'die,' exactly, for it was never alive at all. But it will be gone. It will no longer exist.

Still, he hesitated. Whatever he knew, his emotional reactions could not avoid the monster's form.

True enough, Belisarius had slain young girls. Many times, in fact. Just recently, his burning and destruction in the Ganges campaign had condemned many such to death. Damodara had agreed to send relief expeditions, as soon as possible. But with the inevitable chaos attendant upon a successful rebellion, no expedition could possibly arrive in time to save everyone.

Dozens of seven- and eight-year-old girls just like this one-more likely hundreds, or possibly even thousands-would be dying soon. Some were dead already. Each and every one of whom could, rightfully, have had the words Murdered by Belisarius engraved on their tomb markers.

Still, he hadn't done it personally. And if that difference might be meaningless, on a philosophical level, a man does not hold and wield a spatha using philosophy. He uses muscles and nerves and blood shaped and molded by emotion from the time he is born.

Don't be foolish, Aide said softly. You know the answer. Why be proud, at the end, when you never were before?

He was right, of course. Belisarius stepped back.

'Valentinian. A last service, if you would.'

'Sure, General.'

The cataphract came forward, his spatha flashed, and it was over. A spray of blood across shattered machinery, and a small head rolling to a stop in a corner. The gag never even came off, as neatly and economically-as miserly-as it had been done.

'Thank you.'

'My pleasure.'

Belisarius turned to Damodara, whose shoulders seemed slumped in relief. 'And now, Emperor-'

Do that later, Belisarius. Please. I want to go outside.

Belisarius hesitated, for a moment. There were the needs of politics, but. .

This was Aide's great triumph, not Damodara's.

Certainly, if you wish. I can understand that you find this chamber unsettling.

It's not that. It's just a cellar, now. That blood is just blood. That severed head just one of many I've seen. But I still don't want this to be. .

He hesitated. Then: It's not where I want to leave. I want to see the sky over India, when it happens.

A great terrible fear clutched Belisarius' heart.

What are you talking about?

Again, that crystalline sort of sigh. I've been glad, these past years, that you never figured it out. I was afraid you would, and it would just cause you pain-since you could have done nothing else anyway. But the time is here, now.

Softly, gently: The moment Link was destroyed, the future changed. Not in all ways, and-it's too complicated to explain, and I don't have much time left-the people alive there now won't be destroyed. Time is like a flowing river, and if you shift the banks it will still most likely end at the same delta. But I live here and now, not then and there, and the timeline that created me-the need for me-has vanished. Will vanish, at least, very soon.

'You're dying?' Without realizing he'd done so, Belisarius cried the words aloud. Then, frantically, scrabbled to bring the jewel's pouch from under his tunic.

It's more like I simply become impossible. But I suppose that's all that death is, in the end. That point at which the almost infinitely complex interactions of natural forces that we call a 'life' just becomes too improbable to continue.

'He's dying,' Belisarius choked. He had the pouch out, finally, and spilled the jewel onto his palm.

Aide looked. .

The same as always. Glittering, coruscating. Beautiful.

Please, Belisarius. I want to see the sky over India.

He took the stairs three steps at a time. Never even thinking about the emperor he left behind, open- mouthed.

Chapter 41

Kausambi

Belisarius knocked down two courtiers in the palace's corridors and rolled another halfway down the steps leading to the main entrance, before he finally reached a place on the square fronting the palace that was sun- drenched. He had no memory of it, afterward. All he remembered was the all-consuming, desperate hope that exposing the jewel to full daylight would somehow change things.

A stupid hope, really, on the part of a man who was anything but stupid. As if light rays and summer heat could alter the nature of space and time.

Sit down, will you? said Aide. You're gasping for breath.

Belisarius was winded. Winded and half-exhausted. Even for a still-young man in very good physical condition, that long race up the stairs from the deep cellars had taken a toll.

He more or less collapsed onto one of the wide stone benches that lined the square in front of the palace. Dully, staring at the blue sky above.

Why? he asked, and began to weep. You knew all along, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?

Actually, I didn't know at the beginning. If you remember, I didn't know very much, then. But I realized within the first year, yes. First, because it was obvious. And then, because I remembered.

Belisarius lowered his head and pinched his eyes. Remembered what?

My last conversation with the Great Ones. Just before they sent me here. Well, 'sent' isn't exactly the right word. Neither is 'me,' for that matter. I wasn't really me, when I left, and I wasn't sent here so much as they made it possible. .

He was silent, for a moment. It's really hard to explain, Belisarius. What existed then-in the future-was nothing you would have recognized as 'Aide.' I emerged here, over time, where I had only been faceted crystals before. What was sent here was not a 'me' that had never existed before, but more in the way of the condensed facets. A package of potential, if you will, not a real person.

Apologetically: I know it doesn't make much sense to you. But it's true. The Great Ones told me I would change, and they were right.

His eyes still pinched, Belisarius shook his head. Those bastards. They sent you here to die, is what they did.

Yes, in a way. But it's not that simple. If I didn't die-volunteer for it-my people wouldn't live.

Angrily, Belisarius dropped his hand and slapped his thigh. 'Bullshit!' he shouted, aloud. Don't tell me they couldn't have handled those so-called 'new gods' on their own-without this.

Yes, but-

The crystal's flashing image in Belisarius' mind seemed to freeze, for an instant. Then, sounding very relieved, Aide said: They're coming. I hoped they would. I will let them explain.

For the second time in his life, Belisarius felt himself swept away into the heavens, as if blown there by a giant's gust.