Part 27 (1/2)

Only Dougal retained the power of movement. He reeled forward and dropped to his knees. His face was contorted with pain and joy and tears flowed down his cheeks. ”It's you!” he cried. ”It's you!”

The brief flash of uncanny power shut off as though it had been only inadvertently manifested. The little man in the golden leather suit stood there, leaning casually against the throne, his aspect quite normal.

”Not to brag,” said Aiken, ”but Marc Remillard may discover a nasty surprise if he attempts to invade this continent.

Remember that his power during the Metapsychic Rebellion rested in a vast a.s.semblage of minds, which he directed in aggressive metaconcert. Here in the Pliocene he's handicapped.

A lot of his old cronies are worn out. Others are unreliable-or their metafunctions aren't suited to offence. It seems very likely that if he comes against Me, he'll have to come alone. His people will try to help him, but their efforts will be piddling compared to the kind of fighting that went on during the Rebellion. We can lick 'em-and we can build that gate! The job will be easier if you help. Will you?”

Dougal had both hands pressed to the leonine charge embroidered on his new surtout. Still weeping, he spoke in a low voice.

”Before, with your glory masked, I did not know you. None of us did. But now I see you, Asian, came to save Narnia just as I prayed. You will not abandon us to pa.s.s through the dread doorway. You will not let the dream die-”

”Be quiet,” said the King sharply; and although he withheld his coercive power, the mad medievalist subsided, sinking down with his face to the marble floor. Aiken stepped around him to survey the others.

”Will you help me freely?” he asked, and his voice was strangely dulled.

There was a brief pause. ”Yes,” said Basil at last. ”Those of us who would stay in the Pliocene will cooperate for the sake of our friends who wish to leave.”

Aiken sighed. ”Thank you.” Behind the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, the doors of the grand salon opened. Parthol Swiftfoot stood there, this time attired in full armour that blazed blue-green in the dusk.

Beside him was Ochal the Harper. Their minds said: You summoned us High King.

”These friends are to be conducted to rooms where they can rest,” Aiken said aloud. He turned to Basil. ”Tomorrow, we'll confer about an aircraft salvage expedition to the Alps. My Deputy Lord Psychokinetic, Bleyn the Champion, will lead you.

You'll leave as soon as possible.”

”As you like, sir,” Basil inclined his head slightly and sent a brief telepathic image to the others. Those who were still sitting arose. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds began to drift toward the doors.

Dougal roused and climbed to his feet. He pulled a linen mouchoir out of one mailed sleeve and blew his nose. The dreamy look was gone as he eyed the King and said, ”If you plan to whip up Guderian's Gazebo from scratch, Asian, take my advice and get hold of my old master, Tony Wayland. I mean, extruding that b.l.o.o.d.y niobium-dysprosium wire for the tau-generator alone will call for world-cla.s.s boffinry, to say nothing of refining the stuff from ores. Tony ran the barium works in Finiah ... Really knows his metallic stuff, old Tony.”

Aiken was urgent. ”Where is he now?”

Dougal rolled his eyes heavenward. ”Alas! He was n.o.bbled by wicked dwarfs in the Vosges woodland, and only I escaped to tell the tale!”

Aiken shot a telepathic instruction to Parthol, who came up and put a gently coercive hand on Dougal's shoulder and suggested, ”Why don't you come along and tell me all about it?”Dougal suffered himself to be guided toward the door, but as it was closing, he said over his shoulder, ”And thou, Asian, in thine own hand bear the power to cancel his captivity ... a parlous exchange, yet necessary, I ween.” And he was gone.

Aiken shook his head and the expression he showed to Ochal was almost helpless. ”I suppose Parthol will make sense of it.

Creator ingenuity ... but dammit, Occy, there's something uncanny about that big gomeril.”

”I sensed it too, High King.” Thinly veiled anxiety hovered behind his social screen. ”Is it well with you? We could have the North Americans wait longer-”

”No. There isn't time. Dougal was right ... 'twere well it were done quickly.”

”They have followed our instructions with complete docility and await your pleasure. Would you believe that they've brought five tiny toddlers along with them?”

”I'm ready to believe almost anything these days,” Aiken remarked. ”You got the big sigma from Hagen Remillard without any ha.s.sle?”