“No!” Varian pulled the hand away. “All right! Not here, please. I believe you.” He drew a breath to keep away the dizziness. He felt weak.
With a studied casualness, Kartaphilos tucked the synthetic flesh beneath his robes. “It is not the first time I have resorted to such a demonstration.”
“How old are you? How could you still be . . . be working?”
“You have no conception of the skills of the men of the First Age. I am nothing to their science.”
“It’s so incredible. . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“You sound more the fool than you are, Varian Hamer. I have shocked you, but you will collect yourself. Say nothing. Only know that you are special. It will take a special man to find the Guardian. Perhaps, it is you.”
“Stay with me! Help me find your Guardian!” Varian’s mind raced ahead. Half-imagined thoughts told him of the power and the wealth which would come to a man who found the Guardian. The secrets of the First Age would lie at the man’s feet. The World would be again renewed to its prior greatness . . . under the direction of that special man.
Kartaphilos shook his head. “No, I cannot stay with you. Just as I can feel it within my body, my pathways, that Guardian still functions—for I would cease to function should Guardian fail—so also can I feel the need for me to continue my mission.”
“Why?”
“Because there is no warrant that you will succeed, Varian Hamer. Your bones may lie bleaching in the Manteg while I repeat my story to another young sailor like yourself. It might be said that I am . . . doomed, or cursed perhaps, to wander the World, telling my tale.”
Varian understood what the machine was telling him. “But how will you know if, or when, you ever succeed?”
Kartaphilos shrugged. He was a perfect mimic. “I will know.” He straightened himself, eyes glancing to the docks below.
“What’s the matter?”
“I will leave you now. There’s nothing more to tell. It is up to you now. Either you will search for Guardian or you will not. Either you will find it or you will not.”
“Where will you go?”
“I don’t know. There are many places I have yet to see. It is still a big enough World. Good-bye, Varian Hamer.”
Varian wanted to say more, but his mind seemed to seize up. He was shocked with the knowledge that he would never see the terrifying messenger from the First Age again. “Wait. Please, is there nothing else you can tell me? Where should I begin my search? Any clues? Can’t you remember anything else?”
Kartaphilos smiled. “There is one last thing. I was saving it for last. . . .”
“What? What is it?”
“Sand.”
“What’s that? ‘Sand’?”
“There was lots of sand. I remember that. But nothing more definite.”
“That narrows it down a bit,” said Varian seriously.
“Does it really? I don’t think so. You can be relatively certain that the Citadel resides nowhere within the civilized World, else it would have been discovered, by now. Which leaves the more desolate parts—all of which have sand.”
Something jumped in Varian’s heart. Kartaphilos was correct. “Still, it is something.”
“Make of it what you can. Good fortune, Varian Hamer. I envy you.”
“Me? Why?”
Kartaphilos smiled again. A very human smile. “I envy all of you. You humans. It must be a different thing, a marvelous thing to be alive, to be an organic entity. I wish that I could know it.”
Varian nodded, understanding. “It is a good thing . . . sometimes.”
“Yes, I’m sure it is.” Kartaphilos turned and adjusted the cowl of his cloak. “And I leave you, and I wish you success.”
Varian could say nothing. He watched as the . . . thing called Kartaphilos walked slowly to the gangway and shuffled down its incline. His drab clothing was soon lost in the eddying swirls of color in the marketplace. Varian strained to follow his path until it became totally lost in the constantly changing network of the crowd.
Turning his attention back to the ship, he was relieved to see that no one had taken great notice of his conversation. It was not unusual to have visitors upon a ship so grand as The Courtesan. If anyone asked, he would tell them that Kartaphilos was an eccentric old uncle, bearing a personal family message. It would suffice. No one who knew Varian Hamer ever questioned his word.
The ship would be weighing anchor soon, and Varian now viewed the voyage in a different light. So much to think about. So much to do. He would now be forced to plan his life as he had never planned it before.
Eleusynnia. Their first port of call—would it be a good place to jump ship? To begin the search? Maps. He would need maps and charts. He must study everything. There could be no snap decisions in something like this. He would go to Eleusynnia at least. From there, perhaps into Voluspa to consult the ancient texts at the Great Library. There might have been a germ of truth in Kartaphilos’ suggestion. A careful eye, a careful mind, might find something of use in the old writings.
Something burst into life deep in his being. He could feel it, but he did not yet recognize it. It was something more than the mere joy of being alive. It was the first spark of purpose in his life that had ever truly meant something to him.
The sun was burning brightly in the sky now. It was a brassy disk eating through the haze. Somewhere its light burned down on a place of sand . . . and other things.
And I shall find it, he thought.
Chapter Two
Despite her present situation, Tessa was a woman of character and determination,
