Brain Plague

'The nanos in his brain would alert us to emergencies.'

She didn't trust the sub-intelligent nanos. 'Suppose I go back. I could handle him when I'm awake, but asleep, I don't know.'

'He's restrained. You'd be safe, either way.'

For a while longer she waited, listening in the silence. Remembering back to the time when she had overslept and Poppy took over. Daeren had watched her with the doctor then, and stayed with her till she chose. At last, she stepped quietly back to his room.

Daeren was asleep, the restraints securing his limbs. Humans could look so peaceful, yet who knew what went on inside. Chrys put a patch at her neck. 'Fireweed, find out what happened.' Hesitantly she transferred the patch to Daeren, then took it back.

Forget-me-not returned, with Lupin, accompanied by several blue angels. 'We promised to serve the Lord of Light as our own god,' Forget-me-not reminded her. 'So we gave him what he asked.'

'What?'

'We gave him your pictures from the world of Endless Light. And the odors; the taste that made you sick.'

She gagged just thinking about it. From the wall, a shelf extended with a glass of water. Drinking, she managed to steady herself.

'We have learned something,' flashed yellow Lupin. 'We have learned at last why we must never touch the fruit of the gods. We'll never ask again.'

With a deep sigh, Chrys fell back on the bed. She lay next to Daeren but carefully avoided touching him.

In the morning, she awoke refreshed. A bright morning light played across the sheets; she had slept late. By her feet sat Daeren, free of restraint, watching her quietly. She drew back her feet, tense and wary. He turned his head away. Then without a word he left the room.

'How is he?' Chrys asked the house.

'Better. He had his first quiet night.'

If that was quiet, she shuddered to think what had gone before. No wonder Andra was discouraged.

The house set out breakfast in the kitchen. As Chrys ate, Daeren worked at the holostage, scrolling through some interminable legal document. She stole a look at him now and then, but if he wouldn't speak, that was fine with her.

She found another holostage to catch up with her own correspondence from clients and gallery directors; the volume overwhelmed her. The price of fame, she thought ruefully. If she answered everyone, how would she get any work done?

Recalling Merope, she checked in at her house. 'The cat's fine,' Xenon promised. 'I made her a plump new armchair to curl up in. By the way, I enjoyed your news story. I had no idea artists were so ... interesting.'

The story of 'Azetidine' began innocuously enough with Yyri's rhapsodic comments on her upcoming exhibition. Chrys's image had been caught outside, her face lost in thought, her red-black hair enhanced to the color of flame. Then came the pinwheel windows of Silicon. 'Like the Comb in its day,' said the snake-egg, 'Silicon promises to explode with the shock of the new.' Chrys winced at that. It had been one thing to watch Arion glower, but to offend all Elysium was not to her liking.

'The personal history and private life of Azetidine remain a mystery, but sources reveal tantalizing clues. Indeed, Azetidine appears to have inherited her mentor's predilection for well-connected women. Rumor links her with ...' There followed a montage of herself meeting various women, especially Opal clasping her hand, but also Lady Moraeg, then Ilia, then a couple of other Great House ladies whom she had never met but whose images were spliced to hers.

The blood drained from her face and hands. She sank into a chair, completely mortified. The one consolation was they had missed Topaz. At least her former lover would be spared the indignity.

Chrys called for Opal. On the holostage Opal was shaping her atomic models, the virtual molecules jointed into multilegged dragons. 'The masters' defectors revealed a new class of peptide toxin.' When at work in her lab, Opal had a one-track mind. 'False blue angels use the toxin to overwhelm a native population. What puzzles me is how they can produce it so fast.'

Chrys smiled. 'I'm sure you'll figure it out. Opal, about the news—I'm so sorry.'

Opal shrugged. 'Better linked to you than Titan.'

'I could just die. I hope Selenite wasn't upset.'

'Selenite's doing better,' Opal told her. 'She reached a truce with the minions. No more executions. Instead, exile.'

Chrys smiled. 'Well, that's progress. Give her my apologies too.'

'Andra will file an injunction, and the snake-eggs will back off. But you know, Chrys, you could manage the media better. Pick one, and give her exclusive rights to your story. Then she'll have a stake in the truth.'

She grimaced. 'They all look alike.'

'Then you should look closer.' Opal moved toward Chrys. 'How is Daeren? We miss him so.'

Chrys wished she could say. After Opal signed off, she stood there, lost in thought.

'Oh Great One,' came Fireweed's infrared, 'isn't it time to visit our sisters? Send a new group to spell them.'

Daeren was still at the other holostage, reviewing legal briefs. Chrys asked the house, 'How is he today?'

'He's gone back to work for the first time,' said the house. 'Now that he's calm inside, his brain can heal.'

Chrys rose and approached him from behind. When she reached him, she let her hand rest upon his shoulder.

Daeren stopped and shuddered slightly. 'Chrys. I thought you'd never ...' He fell to his knees and embraced her ankles.

She whispered, 'Daeren.' She bent at the knees to put her arms around him, though he would not meet her eyes. 'It's okay. Please.' She caught his head gently in her hands, running her fingers through his hair.

His eyes flashed blue and yellow. 'I'm no longer worthy of you.'

'Then why did all those people invest their lives in you?' She gave him a patch to retrieve Forget-me- not.

'We've been busy,' reported Forget-me-not. 'Rebuilding infrastructure, bringing things up to code. Putting up a few nightclubs.'

Hesitantly, he stroked her hair. Her eyes half closed, and her fingers dug into his back, remembering. His face drew so near that she breathed his scent. Then his lips were on her again, meeting her hunger until she was satisfied.

At last she lay beside him again, quietly. Her hand caressed his chest, wondering at his strength. 'You've certainly got the touch, Daeren. As good as a woman.'

He raised himself on one elbow. 'Chrys, do you like women better? I'll get changed, to please you.'

She stared, overcome by the need in his eyes. Then she let out a long, shuddering sigh. 'Daeren, please yourself. I'd love you even as a worm-face.'

He paused as if considering. 'I don't think Plan Ten has that option.'

'Well for heaven's sake, don't give them ideas.' Cradling his head, she whispered, 'Just get better.'

'What if it's too hard?'

'You have to try.'

'I'm trying. It's the hardest thing I ever tried.'

Another afternoon of swimming amid sapphires, pulling weights in Andra's gym, and hiking the virtual trail up to an endless scarp stretched beneath a tree-lined sky. Chrys leaned on Daeren's shoulder and watched the sunset. 'Lawyers and doctors sure know how to live.'

'When they have time.' Andra and Sar spent all their time getting people and hospitals out of one scrape or another.

That night Daeren again tossed in his sleep, struggling with unseen demons. At first he subsided, as if