Prophecy

with a smile. She turned back to Tallyn.

'When do we leave?'

'The Shrike will not see you.'

Rayne was tired of hearing that proclamation, in various forms, and gritted her teeth. She had been waiting on his base for two days. Tallyn's smuggler friend, a middle-aged Atlantean with a scarred face and bad halitosis, had dropped her on Ironia before beating a hasty retreat, and she was glad to be away from his lecherous looks and smutty talk. He had kept his deal with Tallyn, however, and delivered her into Tarke's territory. Now she faced an unexpected obstacle, one she was beginning to think was insurmountable.

Tarke would not see her, and nothing she said seemed to make any difference. Rayne glared at the black- clad woman who faced her, a blank-faced Erdorian whose rather sullen expression suited her office as bearer of bad news. Rayne recalled the unpleasant fourteen-hour journey she had endured. The smuggler had spent only four hours linked to the net before taking a six-hour nap. Mercifully, she had not been linked to a neural net, but now found herself barred on Tarke's doorstep for her trouble.

'Does he give a reason, or is he just being bloody-minded?'

'He's not currently on this base,' was the tart reply.

'And is he planning to come here any time in the not too distant future?'

'I don't know his plans.'

'All right.' Rayne forced a stiff smile. 'Would you give him a message then?'

'Certainly.'

'Tell him I know what happened on Elliadaren.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

Rayne shrugged. 'He'll know.'

The woman snorted and spun on her heel, marching off down the corridor. Rayne watched her until she turned a corner, then decided to go for a walk in the garden in front of the building. Two guards kept an eye on her from the doorway. They followed her everywhere, and sometimes prevented her from entering certain areas. She was not being treated exactly as a prisoner, but that her host did not trust her was abundantly clear. She had been scanned upon arrival, and since then her keepers had treated her with deep suspicion. This time, she had her own clothes, and wore a dark blue one-piece suit that stood out amongst the monotony of black-clad people.

Rayne glanced back at her guards, who followed her, laser rifles held across their chests. At first she had thought the guns were meant for her, which seemed rather paranoid since she was unarmed, but now she suspected that the weapons were more for her protection. Several times she had encountered people whose eyes had glinted murderously and whose glares had only been deterred by her guards' hard-eyed presence. She had no idea what she had done to deserve their animosity, for she had been studiously polite to everyone she met. These people, it seemed, were as strange as the man they served. She sighed and headed back towards her apartment.

The following morning, just as she finished dressing in a pale blue one-piece suit trimmed with grey, the apartment door chimed. She hurried to press the button that opened it, and found the two guards on her doorstep.

One stated in a gruff voice, 'The Shrike will see you now.'

Rayne wondered if the thrill that raced down her spine at his words was terror or excitement, deciding it was probably a bit of both. She followed them along several uniform grey corridors at a brisk march before being whisked up several floors in a high-speed lift. It seemed that she was in the same building, but she was not sure, for the route was confusing and the scenery monotonous.

The guards stopped outside a door and stepped aside as the portal slid open. She took a deep breath and walked in with all the confidence she could muster. Most of it drained away at the sight of the tall masked man who stood gazing out of a massive window. When he turned to face her, she found her mouth dry and her knees weak. Her eyes flinched from the mask.

The Shrike gestured to a chair with a gloved hand, and she sank into it. Four soft cream chairs were arranged around a low, polished red wood table in the centre of a plush room decorated in pale grey and soft blue. A bank of huge windows overlooked the gleaming white and green city. Tarke walked over and sank into a seat opposite, the table between them.

'So, the frightened slave girl has now become what? An Atlantean messenger? A spy?' His soft voice made her shiver. 'Few dare to seek me out, and even fewer have the temerity to come to one of my bases. What makes you so bold?'

She gulped, brave words dying on her tongue. Several seconds passed in silence, while she cursed her blank mind.

'What happened to Elliadaren?' he murmured.

'It was attacked… by an Envoy.' To her relief, his words kick-started her brain, and her voice was steady.

'Who told you that?'

'My guide, an entity called Endrix.'

'Go on.'

'I've been there. I've seen the remains of the Crystal Ship that carried the Envoy to your world.' Words tumbled off her tongue in a nervous flood. 'Your people were suffering terribly when you found them. You were forced to kill them. There was nothing else you could do. The Envoy came from another universe. He fed on your people's suffering. Another is coming to Atlan, and I have to stop him.'

The Shrike was silent for several moments, his emotions guarded. 'I never had a name for the monster that tortured my people. What else do you know about this Envoy?'

'Not a lot. They're patriarchal, cannibalistic and sadistic. He controls the Crystal Ship, and forces it to use its telepathic ability to inflict pain on his victims. He and his minions feed on the pain of others.'

'But you didn't come here just to tell me this.'

'No. I need your help. Endrix told me to seek you out. He said you would help me.'

He tilted his head. 'Why should I help you?'

'You don't want the Atlanteans to fall. You said so yourself.'

'That's true, which is why I killed Drevina and her brother.'

She gasped. 'You did that?'

'I thought it would throw the Draycons into confusion long enough for this situation with you to blow over or resolve itself. Otherwise they would have tried to interfere again, and next time they might have succeeded.'

Rayne stared at him, longing to tear off the horrible mask. He seemed hostile, and she knew she trod on thin ice, for he could have her removed from his base any time he chose. She decided to be blunt.

'Will you help me?'

'That depends. Who is this Endrix, and why did he tell you to come to me for help? What do I have that Atlan can't offer?'

'I don't know what, or who he is. I've never seen him. All I know is he's in the huge black ship that can use the transfer Net to transport itself instantly. He saw what you did to Elliadaren. He understood why you did it, as I do. I saw it through his memories. I can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like to be forced to make that kind of decision, and I'm sorry about what happened.'

He stood up, making her tense, but he only walked back to the window and stared out. 'That was a long time ago.'

'I'm sure the memories haven't faded.'

'No, they haven't. I knew they were all going to die, but to share in that wordless agony was a thing no one should have to endure. The silence that fell after the bombs exploded was like… paradise, after the torture of their pain.'

'You should have told the Atlanteans why you did it.'

He gave a soft snort. 'Do you think they would have believed me?'

It all made terrible, tragic sense as the last pieces of the puzzle fell into place. 'So you became a slaver, because you were already condemned to death, and nothing mattered anymore.'

'Don't try to analyse me.' He turned to face her. 'What do you want?'