can always try this again later, when we've got more time. What do you say, Investigator? I'll step back if you will.'
'Never,' said Frost. 'I'm an Investigator. The Empire made me what I am. I'll never give up, never give in. Kill me if you can, rebel.'
'It doesn't have to be this way,' said Owen.
'Yes it does,' said Frost. 'This is my life. My meaning. My purpose. I'll never back down. It's not in me. Kill me if you can.'
Hazel lowered her sword. 'I can't. Not like this.'
'I can,' said Kit SummerIsle. And in a movement so fast no one recognized it till it was too late, he drew a hidden dagger and threw it at Frost with all his strength behind it. She turned slightly as he spoke, and the knife took her in the throat. Blood spurted thickly, running down her chest in streams. She dropped her sword and clutched at her throat with both hands. Blood welled between her fingers. She started to pull the knife free, and then sat down suddenly as the strength went out of her. Silence was quickly there at her side, holding her in his arms. She shuddered uncontrollably, and he held her tighter. She looked shocked, confused, as though she couldn't believe this was happening to her.
'Stupid way to die,' she said, her voice thick and labored. Blood sprayed from her mouth in a fine red mist. 'I feel cold. So cold.'
'I've got you, Frost,' said Silence. 'I'm right here.'
'Never thought… it would end like this.'
'Hush,' said Silence. 'Save your strength till we can get a medic in here.'
'No,' said Frost. 'We never lied to each other, Captain. Don't start now.'
'Then heal yourself! I did!'
'Too late, Captain. Too late.'
'You were a good soldier,' said Silence, his voice breaking. 'The best, right to the end.'
'Of course. I'm an Investigator. John…'
'Yes?' said Silence, but the breath just went out of her in a long bloody sigh, and she was gone. Silence hugged her to him. 'Good soldier. Good soldier.' Eventually he let her go and got to his feet. His uniform was soaked with her blood. He looked at the SummerIsle, who smiled back at him.
'Why?' said Silence. 'Why her, and not me?'
'You killed my David,' said Kit. 'Now you know what I felt. Want to try and kill me now, old man?'
'Not right now,' said Silence. 'There's been enough killing here. And she never would have surrendered. Just stay out of my sight, killer.'
He turned away to face Owen and Hazel, as though he didn't know what to do next. Stelmach and Frost were dead, and he had repudiated his Empress. It didn't seem possible that his whole life could have been destroyed in such a short time.
'I'm sorry about the Investigator,' said Owen. 'Sometimes, it just isn't possible for everyone to win.'
'You loved her, didn't you?' said Hazel. 'Did you ever tell her?'
'She wouldn't have known how to answer me,' said Silence. 'She was an Investigator.'
There was nothing more to say, so they all turned to look at Lionstone, alone on her Throne. She glared back at them defiantly. All her champions were dead or defeated, but she still hadn't given up. It was an almost perfect moment of opposition, and it hung endlessly on the air, as though neither side wanted to break it. Hell had grown very quiet. The angel guards were dead, the maids-in-waiting were human again, and even the hologram illusions were still, as though waiting to see what would happen next. Owen moved slowly forward to stand alone at the foot of the Iron Throne. He'd come a long way to reach this place, this moment. To stand before the woman who'd destroyed his life and taken away everything he'd ever had or cared for. Because of her he'd been sent wandering through the Empire, always running from the hounds on his trail, never to feel safe or secure again. Because of her he'd been forced to become someone he still wasn't sure he approved of, the kind of man his Family had always wanted him to be—a warrior. Fighting for a cause he wasn't always sure he really believed in. But every time he wavered, all he had to do was remember a young girl lying bloodied on the Mistport snows, crippled by his sword, crying helplessly till he killed her out of mercy. Time to end it all, now. He nodded almost familiarly to the Empress.
'It's over, Lionstone. Time to go. Step down.'
'No,' said Giles. 'Not yet. It isn't over till I say it's over. Step away from the Throne, Owen. This isn't your moment; it's mine.'
Everyone turned to look at him. The old warrior in his barbarian's furs, the legendary hero of centuries past, stood calmly a little distance away from the others, his sword in his hand. He smiled at them, and something in that smile made them all shiver. He lifted his blade and set the edge against his mercenary's scalplock. He sawed through the thick hair with ease, and then held it thoughtfully in his hand for a moment, before throwing it away.
'That's it,' he said calmly. 'No more a mercenary. No more fighting for other men's causes. I am my own man again, the Deathstalker, and I will take the crown now, as it was always meant I should. I will be Emperor, and put things right again. I'm the only one who understands what needs to be done to restore the Empire. To make it strong again, before the aliens or the Hadenmen or Shub rise up to destroy Humanity. The people will follow me. They've always had a soft spot for heroes and legends. I will remake the old Empire, as it was a thousand years ago, before the rot set in. No more clones or espers or other genetic abominations. It was always meant that the Empire should be a human Empire.'
He smiled at Owen in a fatherly fashion. 'It was always meant to be me, Owen. I knew when I went into stasis, 943 years ago, that I would have to plan for the long term. Step outside of time, so I could wait to return till the odds were in my favor again. All during that time, the computers in my Standing monitored events and maintained contact with my Clan. They planned and plotted, shaping events, preparing for my eventual return. Your father was the last contact, Owen. A very adroit agent. He set the final plans in motion—funded the rebels on Mistworld, created the Abraxus Information Center, and was finally planning a trip to Shandrakor to wake me when he made a misstep, drew attention to himself at just the wrong moment, and the Empress sent Kid Death to put an end to his intrigues.
'It was a major blow. Your father had always been meant to be the leader of the coming rebellion, a warrior-politician with the legendary Deathstalker name. The people would have followed him, as he prepared them for my return. But then he was gone, and I had no choice but to replace him with you, a feeble historian who never even wanted to be the warrior his inheritance demanded.
'To temper the steel that will become a sword blade, you beat the hell out of it and test it almost to the point of destruction. So I tempered you. It wasn't difficult for some of my agents to convince Lionstone to outlaw you, and thus set you on the path that would eventually bring you to me. The Maze… confused things. It was only ever intended that I should pass through the Maze and gain the powers it promised but under the pressure of events I had no choice but to allow you and your companions to pass through, too. You were never meant to become superhuman, like me. Still, you haven't turned out too badly, Owen. I've made you a warrior in spite of yourself. A credit to your Family name. But now it's time for you to step aside.
'It was never meant to be you, boy. This is my moment, my destiny. I will be Emperor, as it was always meant I should.'
Owen stared at Giles for a long moment, and then shook his head. 'To hell with that. I didn't come this far, spill this much blood, just to replace one tyrant with another. Even if he is Family. Put down your sword, Giles. You left it too late. Your time is over; we do things differently now. The rebellion grew from the clone and esper undergrounds, not your meddling. We've had enough of Families and Emperors. It's time for… something new.'
Giles slowly advanced on Owen, who raised his sword warningly. Giles stopped. 'Don't do this, boy. Don't make me kill you.'
'You wouldn't really kill me,' said Owen. 'Not your own Family. The last of your descendants. The last Deathstalker.'
'I can always start a new line,' said Giles calmly. 'I never promised you wealth or fame or an easy death, Owen. Just a chance to be a legend. Whether that's a living legend is up to you. I am… fond of you, in my way. The last of my original line. My child, in every way that matters. Don't get in my way, boy. I've done… awful things, terrible things. I created the Darkvoid Device and put out a thousand suns. This is my chance to atone, to put
