exploits fighting in the streets hadn't gone unnoticed, and some people made a point of seeking them out to reminisce and congratulate them, but on the whole most people preferred to idolize the larger-than-life Jack Random.
At Random's side stood Donald Royal, his ancient frame full of new life and good wine, revitalized by battle and feeling like a new man again. He'd been a great hero in his younger days, and had never been really happy leading a peaceful life. Now he felt like himself again, full of piss and vinegar, and if he was almost certain to pay dearly for that feeling tomorrow, well, he'd think about that tomorrow. People roared his name along with Jack Random's and toasted him like the warrior of old. Random put an arm across his shoulders and wouldn't be separated from him. Madelaine Skye stuck close, too, and tried to tell herself it wasn't just jealousy that made her distrust the legendary professional rebel.
Over by the bar, Cat and Cyder were making serious inroads into the champagne. They always believed in indulging in the best, especially when someone else was footing the bill. As the level in the third bottle dropped, Cyder became increasingly philosophical about the loss of her tavern.
'We'll build another Blackthorn,' she said to Cat, with only the faintest slur in her speech. 'We can live off the insurance money for a while, and I'll set up some easy burglaries for you. Bound to be lots of good stuff lying around relatively unguarded, after all this. The old team rides again. What the hell; maybe you and I were never meant to be respectable.'
John Silver came over to pay his respects to Owen and Hazel. He was wrapped in so many bandages he could only bend in certain directions, but he seemed cheerful enough. Owen decided to be diplomatic, and excused himself for a moment, so Silver and Hazel could talk in private. After Owen had moved away, they stood in silence for a while, meeting each other's gaze steadily.
'I don't suppose there's any way I could persuade you to stay in Mistport?' said Silver.
'No. I go where the rebellion takes me, and it's all over here.'
'You need a little Blood, to take with you? I could always…'
'No thanks. I don't need it anymore.'
'I thought not. You don't need me, either.'
'It was good seeing you again, John, but you're my past. I've moved on since then, and where I've gone you can't follow. What will you do now?'
'Help rebuild the starport. If we can.'
'The Golgotha underground will supply you with whatever high-tech you need.' She sipped her wine to indicate she was about to change the subject. 'You don't know what happened to Chance and his kids, do you?'
'Oh, they'll come through all right,' said Silver easily. 'His kind always do. The esper union is looking after the children, here in the Hall somewhere. I think the powers that be are feeling a bit guilty about abandoning them to someone like Chance, just because they didn't want to be bothered with children who reminded them of the dark side of esp.' He looked round. 'Owen's coming back. I'd better make myself scarce. Look after yourself. Hazel.'
'You too, John. From what I hear, you were quite the hero, out fighting in the streets.'
Silver grinned. 'Yeah. I don't know what came over me.'
He gave her a bow and a wink, and moved off into the party.
Not that far away, Investigator Topaz and Typhoid Mary were talking quietly. Neither of them cared much for parties, as a rule, but after the death of so many people; they both felt a need for the comfort of a crowd. When the thousands of minds in Legion died, they had felt each one through the Mater Mundi's link, and some of Death's cold hand had brushed against their souls. So they came to the union esper hall, to warm themselves in the presence of friends.
'I still don't know if I did the right thing,' said Mary, looking down into her wineglass.
'Of course you did,' Topaz said briskly. 'Anyone who died on the
Mary frowned. 'I'm not sure. I'm already beginning to forget it. I think my mind is protecting me from things I'm not ready to deal with. I felt… larger, more real, somehow. As though the whole of my life was a dream, from which I awoke for a short while. Part of me wants it again, but the rest of me is scared shitless at the very thought. That business with the control words worries me as well. The Mater Mundi contact wiped out the controls Razor activated, but who knows what else the mind techs might have planted deep within me?'
'Worry about it when it happens,' said Topaz. 'After the way the Empire got its ass kicked here today, I think we can safely assume it'll be some time before we have to worry about Imperial agents again. And you're a lot stronger than you used to be. When you focused the Mater Mundi, it changed you. Your mind is more powerful now. I can feel it. When I look at you with my mind, it's like staring into the sun.'
'I know,' said Mary. 'That's something else that worries me.'
'Hell,' said Topaz. 'You wouldn't be happy if you didn't have something to worry about. It's in your nature.'
'True,' said Typhoid Mary.
Jenny Psycho watched them talk together, from a safe distance, but felt more numb than jealous. She still couldn't get over the fact that the Mater Mundi had chosen to manifest through someone else this time, not her. She'd called for help in the streets of Mistport, and the Mother had ignored her. She was slowly beginning to realize that she'd have to find a new purpose in life, that she wasn't who she'd thought she was.
Councillor McVey cornered Gideon Steel, who was sulking quietly by the punch bowl. The Port Director was rather upset that he didn't have a starport to be Director of anymore.
'Snap out of it, Steel,' said McVey. 'With Magnus and Barron dead, Castle out of his mind with grief, and Donald Royal telling anyone who'll listen that it's his destiny to fight alongside Jack Random, wherever he goes, that only leaves you and me as city Councillors. And there's a hell of a lot of work to be done in putting this city back together. I can't do it on my own, Gideon.'
Steel sighed heavily. 'I suppose you're right. But I was happy being Port Director. It was the only job I was ever any good at.'
'It was the only job where you could syphon off a lot of money on the side.'
Steel looked at McVey. 'You knew?'
'Of course.'
'Then why didn't you say anything?'
'Because you were a good Port Director. It's a hard job, and no one else on the Council wanted it. So, are you going to help me rebuild Mistport? Think of all the work and construction contracts you'll be in charge of. A man with his wits about him would be in a position to steal himself a fortune.'
'You talked me into it,' said Steel. 'When do we start?'
Back on the other side of the room, Neeson the banker had come to pay his respects to Owen Deathstalker. He looked battered and tired, but surprisingly happy.
'You look like you've been in the wars,' said Owen.
'Damn right,' said Neeson. 'Most fun I've had in years. I started out as a mercenary, you know. This sword for hire, and all that. Your father brought me into the business world. Said someone with my instincts would go far in banking. And how right he was. Anyway, I came to tell you that my associates and I have decided to reactivate and maintain the old Deathstalker information network.'
'How very public-spirited of you,' said Hazel. 'What brought that on?'
'Well, partly because of the gentleman standing at your side, partly because everyone on Mistworld is now part of the great rebellion, whether we want it or not, and partly because we all feel more alive now than we have in a long time. Business has its own rewards, but it's not exactly exciting, you know. It's a poor life when you're reduced to getting cheap thrills from foreclosing on someone's mortgage. No, being a rebel sounds much more fun. See you around, Deathstalker.'
He nodded briskly to Owen and Hazel, and wandered off in search of food and wine and someone else to whom he could boast about his transformation. There's no one more enthusiastic than a middle-aged convert. He was replaced by the journalist Toby Shreck and his cameraman Flynn. Their press credentials had saved them from the general slaughter of the invading forces, but now they were stranded on Mistworld until they could beg, borrow, or steal passage off.
