this room, in these same damn chairs. You were a firebrand then, so young and alive and full of hope and vinegar that I couldn't resist you. Gave you all the gold I had on me, and the names of everyone I could think of who might listen to you. I'd have gone with you myself, but even then I was getting a bit too old and fragile for adventuring. You had the gift of words, Jack, and I never could resist a plausable rogue.'
'You were one of the first people to really believe in me,' said Random. 'I never forgot that. Though it's just as well you didn't come with me to Lyonesse. Things went badly, from start to finish. I was young and inexperienced, still learning my way. We had some victories, but in the final battle we were thrown back and routed. I had to run for my life, while good men and women died to buy me time. But we still struck a blow for freedom, and made the Iron Bitch afraid, if only for a moment.'
'I remember Lyonesse,' said Madelaine from the doorway. 'Your army was cut to ribbons, one in ten of the population was hanged for supporting treason, and the survivors had their taxes doubled for the next ten years. There are those who might say Lyonesse was better off before your rebellion.'
'Don't mind Madelaine,' said Donald. 'She doesn't believe in luxuries like optimism and virtues. She's never happy unless she's seeing the dark side of things. She persuaded me to come out of retirement to work with her as private investigators. I provide the brains, and Madelaine sorts out the bad guys. I have to say, I've felt more alive this last year than I have for ages. I was never meant for retirement. She still insists on acting as my bodyguard, even though I haven't forgotten how to use a sword.'
'I'm sure she's very proficient,' said Random. 'Donald, I need to talk to you.'
'Of course you do. Jack. We have a lot to catch up on. Twenty-two years since I last saw you. I've followed your career as best I could. News takes a while to reach Mistworld. You haven't changed a bit. Jack. Unlike me. How have you stayed so young? You must have been in your late twenties when I first met you, and you don't look as though you've aged a day since then.'
'I have several heavy-duty regenerations to thank for that,' said Random. 'And a little cosmetic surgery. People won't follow an old rebel. It's no secret that I've been pretty badly messed up on more than one occasion. I may be young on the outside, but my bones know the truth. But I'm still me. Still the professional rebel, ready to fight for truth and justice at the drop of a hat. My cause hasn't changed in twenty-two years, Donald, and just like then, I need your help.'
Donald sighed, and settled back in his chair. 'Afraid my help's rather more limited these days, Jack. I'm still on the city Council, but I don't take much interest in politics anymore. Which means my influence is pretty much nonexistent. I stick my oar in now and again, just to remind them I haven't died, and I try to do my own small bit for truth and justice as a private investigator, but truth be told, on the whole the important life of the city just passes me by. I can give you names and addresses of some people who might be willing to listen to you, but my name isn't the recommendation it was the last time you were here. Times have changed, Jack, and not for the better. Mistport is a colder and far more cynical place than you and I remember.'
'You can still vouch for me to the Council,' said Random. 'There seems to be some question as to whether I really am who I say I am. If you were to speak up publicly to confirm my identity, it would help a lot.'
'No problem there,' said Donald. 'I may not be as young as I was, but there's nothing wrong with my eyes or my memory. You're Jack Random. No doubt about it. I'd stake my life on it.'
'Don't be so quick,' said Madelaine. 'Looks aren't everything. You said yourself he looks far too young. How do we know he isn't a clone?'
'A gene test would answer that,' Random said easily.
'Unfortunately, we don't have access to tech like that here in Mistport,' said Madelaine. 'Convenient, that.'
'Hush, Madelaine,' said Donald. 'Easy enough to test the man. There are things only Jack and I would remember. Things we talked about, people we knew, back then. Right, Jack?'
'Of course. Let me think for a moment. It was a long time ago.' Random pursed his lips and rested his chin on his fist. 'I remember some of the people you sent me to. There was Lord Durandal, the adventurer. Count Ironhand of the Marches. Is either of them still around?'
'No,' said Donald. 'They're both gone now. Ironhand drowned, saving a child who'd fallen into the River Autumn. He was a good swimmer, for an old man. Got the child to safety. But the shock of the icy waters was too much for him. He knew it would be, but he went in anyway. He was that sort of man. Durandal disappeared into the Darkvoid, years ago, on some damn fool quest to find the Wolfling World. Don't know if he ever found it. He never came back.'
'Pity,' said Random. 'I admired them both. I was hoping they'd vouch for me, too. We still need some proof, don't we? How about this; you gave me all the gold you had on you, twenty-two years ago. And that was exactly seventeen crowns. Am I right?'
'Exactly right!' said Donald, slapping his knee. 'I remember now. Seventeen crowns. No one else could have known that, Madelaine.'
She shook her head stubbornly. 'An esper could have got it out of Jack's head, or yours.'
'Oh, don't mind her,' Donald said dismissively. 'She was born suspicious. Had her mother's milk tested for steroids. You're the real thing, Jack; I can feel it in my bones. I'll vouch for you. And maybe this time you'll listen to me before you go haring off to fight for truth and justice with too few troops and no proper backup.'
'I'll listen this time,' said Random. 'I've learned from my mistakes.'
'You've had enough opportunities,' said Madelaine, but both Donald and Jack ignored her.
'We've got a real chance this time, Donald,' said Random, leaning forward. 'An army of clones and espers, and powerful allies beyond anything you've ever dreamed of. I won't throw it away because of my pride.'
'Good man,' said Donald. 'Get your people together and set up a meeting with the Council. Madelaine and I will be there.'
'Thank you, Donald. This means a lot to me.' Random rose smoothly to his feet, then waited politely as Donald struggled up out of his chair. They clasped hands again, and Random strode out. Madelaine followed him to the door, to be sure he didn't steal anything, and then came back to stand in the doorway and glare at Donald.
'You think he's a fake, don't you?' Donald said calmly, as he eased himself back into his chair.
'Damn right I do. He's too good. Too perfect. Great-looking, muscles to spare, and all the right words and phrases. Like a popular hero designed by a committee. And I don't buy that regeneration story for one moment. I mean, technically speaking I suppose it's possible, but where would a rebel on the run gain access to that kind of tech? Last I heard, regeneration machines were strictly for the aristos. No, Donald, you only believe in him because you want to. Because he's one of the few good memories from your past that's still around.'
'Maybe,' said Donald. 'I don't believe he's telling us everything, or that everything he told us was true. But every instinct I have says it's him. He's just the way I remember him. A larger-than-life hero and a plausible rogue, all in one. He's passed the only tests I could think of. What else does he have to do to convince you, walk on water?'
'If he did, I'd want to check his boots afterward,' said Madelaine.
Jenny Psycho made her way through the streets of Mistport, the crisp snow crunching under her steady stride. Her breath steamed thickly on the air before her, but she was pleasantly warm inside her furs. Heat and cold and other vagaries of the world had lost all power over her. According to her briefing, the espers' union had their own hall in Guilds Quarter, but she needn't have bothered with the directions. She could feel it in her mind, like a great searchlight stabbing up from the center of the city. There were people bustling everywhere she went, but they all gave her plenty of room, even if they weren't always sure why.
The hall itself turned out to be modestly sized, set back in its own grounds. Jenny was a little taken aback to see it standing plainly sign-posted and apparently unguarded. Anywhere else in the Empire such a gathering of espers was punishable by death or mindwipe, depending on how valuable their services were. The simple openness of the espers' union cheered her greatly, and she strode up the graveled path to the front door with something like a swagger. There were no visible guards anywhere, but she hadn't expected any, even in a cesspit like Mistport.
Espers had their own, subtler ways of keeping watch and seeing off the uninvited. The great front door looked imposing and impressive. Jenny looked for a knocker or bellpull, but there wasn't one. She raised her hand to knock, and the door swung open before her. A tall slender man in formal evening wear filled the doorway, staring haughtily down at her. His head was clean-shaven, showing small surgical scars here and there, and his eyes were just a little too wide. His smile was formal and entirely meaningless.
