They were nowhere. A void, a black and lonely place. At first Corwin was alone, but then there was a shimmering light and Lyta stood beside him, light flashing around her, embracing, protecting her.
'Where are we?' he asked. 'How did you...?'
'Your body is still where it was. Our minds.... we are inside the
'Who? Lyta, we don't have much time. Who are you talking about?'
'You can't see her yet. Are you sure you wish to do this? It will.... not be easy.'
'Yes, I'm sure.'
Gently, Lyta took his hand. She was surprisingly warm to the touch.
A great light appeared before them, wings of fire flickering and dancing. At the centre of the ever–changing pattern was a woman, her mouth open in a silent scream, the flames crackling around her body. She was trapped in an orb, no, a column, a lantern.... an infinity of shapes, each one trapping and binding her.
And elsewhere, all around them, above, below, in front, behind, there were tiny pin–pricks of light. Corwin could dimly see others, some near, some impossibly far.
'Who is she?' he asked, Proxima momentarily forgotten beside the majesty and terror of the scene before him.
'She is the power source of your ship. There is one like her in every ship in the
'Her name is Carolyn. Carolyn Sanderson.'
'Can she hear me?'
'Yes.'
'Carolyn,' he said, softly at first, but he repeated the name more loudly. She turned, and in her eyes he saw a reflection of the scene around him, an infinite pool with a million sparkling lights. And a million reflected screams. 'Can you hear me, Carolyn?'
'Keep saying her name,' Lyta whispered, the words hoarse and pained. 'She must remember who she was.'
--Help.... me--
'What do you want me to do, Carolyn?'
--Free.... us--
'We will try,' said Lyta. 'We.... will.... try. But, first.... we need your help.'
'The Proxima defence grid is being trained on the planet. There are millions of people there. They are going to die. We have to destroy the defence grid, but we can't....'
--Cannot.... Light will not.... let.... us--
'Light?' Corwin whispered. Then came understanding. 'The Vorlons. They want this to happen.'
'A tragedy,' Lyta said. 'A disaster they plan to spin and weave, creating a world of dead souls to cry out in revenge and set all worlds against the Enemy. Hurry, David.... I can't.... maintain this.... much longer. They will.... find.... me.'
'Carolyn. Please. Help me here, and I promise. I will free you. All of you. I give you my word.'
--Free.... us? - -
'Yes.'
--We can.... give you.... time.... little... - -
Corwin's heart leapt. 'It'll be enough. Thank you, Carolyn.'
--Light.... strong--
'I will help you,' said Lyta. 'David, come and see me afterwards. You must. Don't let anyone stop you.'
'I promise.'
Lyta stepped forward and reached out her hand. Carolyn turned to face her and stretched out one arm. Lyta's hand passed through the flames of light and an expression of great pain crossed her features. Then she touched Carolyn, and the pain ceased.
The flames died down. Lyta turned back to Corwin. 'Remember.... come and see me....'
'I will,' he replied. Lyta's hand slipped from his, and the void faded.
Corwin sat bolt upright in his chair. 'Captain. We can....'
'I know,' he said. 'Take the grid out. As fast as we can.'
Was there enough time? Proxima held its breath.
Somewhere on Proxima, in a hidden, underground world, a trapped telepath's screams grew less for a moment, and his head bowed.
'Dare I ask?' said Morden.
'It seems the network is being disrupted,' said the old man pensively. 'Temporarily, only, I am sure, but.... I do not like this.'
On a passenger freighter somewhere away from Proxima, Mrs. Tamara Winter woke from a troubled sleep, holding the blanket tight around her. For long minutes she trembled, hearing once again the voices speaking to her, begging her for help. This time, however, there seemed to be a hint of hope in them.
Her sleep was troubled.
Marrago felt the reassuring weight of the maurestii in a secret pouch by his leg. Many scorned the maurestii as a weapon for women and children, but it had certain advantages over the kutari, not least that it was much easier to conceal. Of course many courtiers would not dream of hiding their noble weapons, but then they tended to be the sort who visited taverns and waved their unbloodied blades around to gain mock renown. True soldiers knew that survival was always better than honour.
Besides, Durano would notice a kutari. He might not notice a maurestii.
The Minister for Intelligence was standing quite still in the corner of the study. Marrago had to admire his patience. Another man might have feigned interest in a painting, or a book, or a statue, but not Durano. His glass of water was on the table before him, completely untouched.
'It is not poisoned, you know,' Marrago observed, gesturing at the drink.
'I never thought it was,' replied Durano in his natural, dry monotone. 'Poison is not your way. However, it is more that I am not thirsty.'
'Ah. Well, welcome to my estate. I do not think you have been here before.'
'I did not think I would be welcome.'
'All friends of the Republic are welcome here.'
'I have always been a loyal servant of the Republic.'
'As am I.'
Durano sighed. 'Lord–General.... let us eschew this banter. We both know why I am here. You have left a trail a blind man could follow, would he dare but look.'
'What are you referring to?'
'Please, Lord–General, do not insult my intelligence. You remember the meeting with the Emperor and his Council. You remember, I am sure, the situation with the alien Shadows. I am equally sure you remember the three possibilities we discussed. The documentation given to us by the United Alliance is a forgery; the Shadows are involving themselves in our affairs with the Narns for the purpose of spreading dissent; or someone has requested their aid.'
'I remember.'
'As I said, Lord–General, you have left a trail a blind man could follow. It is fortunate for you, perhaps, and unfortunate for many others, that our Court is filled with blind men these days, the Emperor among them. Who would be better able to co–ordinate our battle plans and to arrange for the assistance of these Shadows than our Lord–General? I have spoken with your captains, reviewed evidence about the Narn assault here last year....
'In short, you are the one who made this alliance. Am I correct?'
'It is.... a theory.' Marrago's hand clenched in his pocket, feeling the cold hilt of his knife.
