She would have done it herself, because … because …
“What is it?” asked Danivon. “What is it, Fringe?”
She shook her head. What was it? It would have been good to give Souile comfort and joy, but not good enough to have been the Professional-class daughter Souile had dreamed of. It would have been good if Char had loved her, but not good enough for her to become the daughter he had wanted. Even during their sentimental clinging, she’d realized they were playing at reality, making promises neither could keep….
Because of this longing. This need. Which Char may have had as well as she. Though with a tragic difference, for he had dragged others into his dream and then hated them for being there, burdening him.
Anyone had the right to dream. But only free beings had the right to go questing. Only beings unenslaved by anything, unencumbered by anything, wearing no label.
As she was. Unlabeled. Not daughter. Not lover. Not Enforcer.
Certainly not a contented part of the Arbai Device.
She put her hand between her breasts, where Zasper’s pendant had hung. Just as she is. Had he known what she was, what she wanted to be? Had he known she needed to be an unlabeled thing?
“Not tied by anyone’s love,” she said, seeing how the words tasted. Were they true? “Not even Zasper’s. Not any longer.”
“Oh, Fringe,” said Bertran.
“Not even our friend, Fringe?” asked Nela.
“Always your friend,” she said. She had sworn so. As for the rest, she didn’t know. She drew herself up and away. Something pulling at her. Something picking at her. Not letting her be. Denying her peace. Nibbling at contentment.
“What is it?” Danivon asked again, startled by her expression.
“I want … I want to go. Away.”
“You ridiculous woman.” He shook his head, shaking her. “How will you go anywhere? You think you can find a safe way out of this? Where is there to go?”
“Yes,” cried Nela. “Where is there to go!”
She came to herself, owl-eyed. “Well, maybe nowhere,” she admitted, surprised at this intrusion of reality. “But still, if I could find a way, I would go. I needed to tell you that, Danivon. I would go!”
Danivon shook her again, wryly angry. “You mean without me, of course. Curvis told me I wanted you mostly because you wanted something else. Maybe he was right.”
Nela looked up at Bertran and said anxiously, “There is no one right way to be. There are always some who want something else. Even if they’re not sure what it is.”
Fringe saw the anxiety, and met it with a rueful smile. “You’d be happier with someone more … settled, Danivon. People like me may be interesting for an occasional passionate encounter, but we’re too prickly for comfort. We’re hot and we’re cold, we’re sharp and we’re dull. One minute we’re sweet, and the next we’re bitter. And when you think we’re here, with you, we aren’t. We’re always somewhere else, dreaming something else.”
“I’m glad we have that settled,” said Nela in an amused voice. She stood up and brushed herself off, feeling through the silkiness of her shirt the sensuous swelling of her breasts. She put out one foot to admire the shiny short boots and the flowing skirt that lashed at her calves. She pushed at her hair, throwing it into charming disarray, and offered a soft delicate little hand to Bertran. He stared at her for a moment, then took her hand in his own larger, calloused one, and pulled himself to his full height with a great swelling of muscles and tightening of rugged jaw beneath his virile beard. He was a full head taller than she. He looked at Fringe and she at them. They seemed to shine.
The twins, Danivon thought, were like campfires, warm and comforting. But Fringe was a light so distant it could hardly be seen. She shone like a diamond one might set upon a finger. One might want to touch it. One might want to possess it. But if one came close enough to hold it, one would be burned to ash.
And given the choice, he admitted ruefully to himself, he would pick another fate. Given the choice, he would sit beside the campfire, telling tales of the marvels he had seen—other places, other times.
“I wonder if Zasper knew about me?” Fringe asked the air. “I wish I could ask him … ask him what I’m supposed to be.”
Somehow Danivon managed to smile as he held out his hand to her. Indeed. Zasper had known about her. Had known and had longed after her with his last breath, wanting her to be … whatever she was.
Jory and Asner sat upon the terrace, holding hands.
“I don’t like this ending,” she said. “It’s not a happy ending. I like happy endings. If I’d known it would end like this …”
“We don’t have to stay around for it,” he told her gently. “We don’t need to take part.”
“I know,” she said angrily. “But I brought all these people here. I will not run. I will not refuse to share what I’ve brought them to.”
“Of course not,” he said, trying to think of something that would change the subject. The trouble was, there was only that one subject left.
“What will happen to Great Dragon and his children,” he asked. “The Arbai Device has never managed to touch him, has it? Surely he will escape the Brannigans.”
She said pensively, “I know he can escape them, if he will. He has stayed here such a very long time. He should have gone out exploring once more, as we did together. Or returned to his old homeworld long ago, to dance with his fellows in the moonlight.”
Great Dragon had stayed for reasons of his own, as Jory well knew, but Asner ignored this. “After all this time, does he still remember his home?” he
