Part 28 (2/2)

You'll have to lead us.

Warmed by the alcohol, Andrys Tarrant s.h.i.+vered.

Thirty-eight.

Images cascading one into another, too fast and furious to separate. Visions and sensations tangled together so tightly there is no way to pick one out from all the others, no means of absorbing the storm of images except as one chaotic whole. one into another, too fast and furious to separate. Visions and sensations tangled together so tightly there is no way to pick one out from all the others, no means of absorbing the storm of images except as one chaotic whole.

Stars.

s.p.a.ce.

Fire.

Blackness.

”What the vulk... ?” Damien's throat was raw and his lungs constricted from sulfur fumes. The words made it past his lips just long enough for him to hear them, then they, too, were drowned in a deluge of alien sensations.

Loss.

Despair.

Fear.

Desperation.

Oh, my children, my children....

”Karril?”

No answer.

The s.h.i.+p hurtles through the blackness of s.p.a.ce like a spark of life, its substance hot in the emptiness. Its walls are not flesh but a living equivalent, energies bound in the place of matter, the skin of a sentient creature that knows nothing of blood or of bone or even of material tools ... but a creature nonetheless. Born for this mission, raised for it, trained for it, the creature-that-is-a-s.h.i.+p hurtles through the wasteland between the stars, her precious children gathered inside her....

”Karril!”

Each child bred for a single purpose, focused and pure in its substance. One to read the stars and choose a course. One to gather up the thin energies of the void and and make food from them. One to steer make food from them. One to steer and and one to record one to record and and one to dream one to dream and one and one-moreprecious than any other any other-tocarry the patterns of inheritance of their race, so that when the time is right, a whole new world can be peopled with her children.

He had a spasm of coughing and for a moment the images scattered. His lungs were refusing to admit enough air. The images that reformed in his head when the spasm was done were swimming with black spots.

How fragile they are, are, her children, her crew! How they struggle to her children, her crew! How they struggle to adapt to adapt to this new place, how they fight to serve this new place, how they fight to serve her . . . all her . . . all in vain. They were not made for this strange planet, where forces that have no name wreak havoc with every living process. First the seeker dies, in vain. They were not made for this strange planet, where forces that have no name wreak havoc with every living process. First the seeker dies, and and then the dreamer, then the dreamer, and and the gatherer, the gatherer, and and so on through so on through all alltheir number number Child Child after afterchild submitting in his turn, either to anatural anaturaldeath or to such muta mutation that she herself must kill them to keep the family pure.

The veil. It had fallen from his face, leaving him exposed to Shaitan's poisons. With a shaking hand he pushed it back into place, praying that it would ease the constriction of his lungs as well as protecting him from fresh a.s.sault. And it seemed to. Thank G.o.d, it seemed to.

The death of the breeder is the most devastating loss of all. Without his storehouse of reproductive patterns of all. Without his storehouse of reproductive patterns she will live out eternity on this hostile planet without hope, without purpose, her only comfort the memories that slowly fade she will live out eternity on this hostile planet without hope, without purpose, her only comfort the memories that slowly fade as as year fades into year fades into year, year,century into century. Periodically Periodicallyshe wonders if it might not be more peaceful to follow them all into death, to end her more peaceful to follow them all into death, to end her suffering suffering forever. forever. But though the fantasy of suicide is tempting, it But though the fantasy of suicide is tempting, it isn't really a isn't really a choice for choice for her. her. Like Like all all her people she has been born for her people she has been born for a a purpose, purpose, and and hers is to give life to others, not to take her own. hers is to give life to others, not to take her own.

And then, when hope has been lost for so long that she's all but forgotten the flavor of it, she becomes but forgotten the flavor of it, she becomes aware awareof something new on the planet. Not a acreature born to its hateful currents, but a astranger, like herself. A traveler. traveler. In joy she reaches out to it, to the thousands of individuals that make In joy she reaches out to it, to the thousands of individuals that make up up its its racial racial consciousness ... consciousness ... and and comes comes up up with silence. Painful, hateful silence! The newcomers can't hear her. They with silence. Painful, hateful silence! The newcomers can't hear her. They lack lack the senses. The structure of their life is so different from her own that interface between them is the senses. The structure of their life is so different from her own that interface between them is all all but impossible. but impossible. Sur Surrounded by a ahost of creatures who would welcome her as a fellow explorer on this hostile planet, she is more alone as a fellow explorer on this hostile planet, she is more alonethan ever. ever.

The images were all over him. Not only before his eyes, but in his brain as well. Images so alien that at first he could hardly interpret them, but one by one they sorted themselves out so that he could understand. And he trembled inside, as that understanding came.

She will try one last time. In the period before she came to this planet she had given birth to children who would serve her needs: she will do the same here, in order to reach these people. She has to wait long years for one to come close, for the place that best supports for one to come close, for the place that best supports her own life is hostile to theirs. But her own life is hostile to theirs. But at at last one comes, last one comes, and and she lifts the pattern of his soul from his flesh with a she lifts the pattern of his soul from his flesh with a mother's mother's sure skill, sure skill, and and uses it to make uses it to make a anew kind of child. Half-breed, Half-breed, maverick, enough like her to maverick, enough like her to understand her need, enough like this new species to com understand her need, enough like this new species to communicate with it directly. Alas, though the theory is sound, the result is disappointing. Her first Her first child is so like her that its father-species child is so like her that its father-species can't can't even see it. The second is the same. The third is even see it. The second is the same. The third is apparent apparent to them, but can find no common to them, but can find no common language language with which to communi with which to communicate. Again and again she tries, using those creatures that approach her resting place as templates for her experiments. She gives birth to children so like herself experiments. She gives birth to children so like herself that they share her own limitations, and to children so that they share her own limitations, and to children so like their fathers that they like their fathers that they lack lackthe ability abilityto see her at all,and at all,andto dozens who have qualities of both, but never in the correct proportion. She gives them the ability abilityto alter alterperception, so that they can bridge the vast conceptual gap between their parent races, but the vast conceptual gap between their parent races, but the ones who ones who are arestrongest in that area areahave no realun realunderstanding of what she sheis, or why they have been born. Still she tries, over and over, each time new material born. Still she tries, over and over, each time new material makes its way to her domain, hoping makes its way to her domain, hoping against against hope that someday the right combination will be found.... hope that someday the right combination will be found....

And it has been found, but not as she had imagined Not in the soul of one child but in the presence of Not in the soul of one child but in the presence of many, many, each one interpreting for the brothers most like each one interpreting for the brothers most like him, taking her memories and her hopes andher fears and him, taking her memories and her hopes andher fears andclothing them in a aframework of alienunderstanding-of human understanding alienunderstanding-of human understanding-untilat last, in the brain of the brain of a adying sorcerer, they aretranslated aretranslatedso that men might comprehend them- He pushed himself up onto his elbows and stared toward Shaitan's peak. The mother of the Iezu had completely enveloped Gerald Tarrant's body. Images played along her surface and throughout her substance, human and alien both. Stars, faces, mists and darkness, color and light and a thousand shapes without form or name. An attempt at some kind of visual language? Or perhaps simply the reflections of all the humans she had courted, as she plucked from each a single strand of consciousness to guide her procreative efforts.

He looked at Karril, kneeling by his side, and saw in the Iezu's expression such unadulterated shock that only one interpretation was possible. He didn't didn'tknow. None of them knew knew ”You're human,” Damien whispered. The words made his throat burn.

The Iezu nodded slowly. ”Half,” he agreed, in a voice that trembled with awe. ”And half...” He looked up at the mother. ”Something else.”

And then suddenly, with frightening clarity, Damien saw the last image again. This time the detail that had almost escaped him didn't.

... in the brain of a a dying sorcerer ... dying sorcerer ...

He struggled to his knees; the motion set off a fit of coughing so violent that it almost knocked him down again. But that wasn't going to stop him. The living circuit the Iezu mother had described was clearly using a man's brain for its receiver, and since that wasn't him and there was only one other man present- ”He's alive?” He struggled to his feet as he gasped the question, and started to stagger toward Tarrant. ”I felt him die!”

A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back, roughly enough that he nearly fell. ”And so he did. Does your kind never start up a man's heart once again, after it falters? Is the brink of death such an absolute place that no human soul is ever rescued from it?” Damien tried to pull loose from him, but the demon (no, not a demon, something strange and alien and terrible and wonderful, but not a demon) wouldn't let go. ”Don't,” Karril warned. ”She saved him for her purposes, not yours. If you get in her way now, there's no telling what she'll do.”

”So she can use him as a translating device? Is that her purpose?”

The Iezu shook his head. ”She doesn't need him for that. Now that she understands the pattern, and her children know how to help her, any human will do.”

”What, then?” He stared up at the mother's fluid form, trying to catch some glimpse of the man inside it. ”What does she want him for?”

The Iezu turned his attention to the creature as well, and for a long moment said nothing. Damien saw that many of the other Iezu had gathered near the mother, as if to intensify their bond.

”She says that he killed her child.” Karril found the words with effort; clearly the Iezu bond was less than a perfect translator. ”She says that the right to do so is hers and hers alone, and not even an alien may take it from her.”

”So she's punis.h.i.+ng him? Is that it?”

But the Iezu shook his head. ”Not punis.h.i.+ng, exactly. More like... using him.”

”For what?”

Karril hesitated. Damien could see his brow furrow in concentration as he struggled to find the proper words. ”To replace what was destroyed,” he said at last. ”To make her family whole again.”

To replace-?

Oh, my G.o.d.

Hundreds of men and women had come into this valley in past centuries, courting the wild power of Shaitan. From each she had taken one seed, one spark of consciousness, never realizing that a man was made up of a thousand such elements and her Iezu children inherited only one. What happened to those men? he wondered suddenly. Did Karril's human father leave this place in the same condition he had come to it, or did he leave behind him that capacity for pleasure which made human existence bearable? What would be left of Gerald Tarrant when the process of replacement was over?

As if in answer, the mother of the Iezu rose from Tarrant's body and withdrew to the lip of the crater. Damien had no eye for her, but made his way as quickly as he could to where the Hunter lay. ”Dying” was the image the mother had chosen. Not ”alive, ”alive, ” but ” but ”dying. ”dying. ” That meant the man wasn't out of danger yet. Damien put a hand to Tarrant's face, and even through the silk veil he could feel its uncommon heat. Its human heat. If he did die, even for ” That meant the man wasn't out of danger yet. Damien put a hand to Tarrant's face, and even through the silk veil he could feel its uncommon heat. Its human heat. If he did die, even for an aninstant, then his compact is broken. He's free. He put his hand above the man's mouth and felt, even though the silk, a thin stirring of breath. ”You son of a b.i.t.c.h,” he whispered hoa.r.s.ely, ”you're alive!”

The Hunter's eyes fluttered weakly open, and for a moment it looked as if he was going to say something typically dry in response. But then the strength left him and he shuddered and closed his eyes, never having made a sound.

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