The flier came smoothly up, its shrouds stripped away by Ikanom’s surrogate hands; there was a blue-black sheen to its sleek sides, a grace and fluidity of line that was close cousin to the grace and fluidity of the androids. *Lovely, isn’t it? Should be a dream to fly.*

  Harskari wasn’t willing to be distracted by aesthetics. ‘If you can fly it. You can’t ask kephalos to instruct you in its capabilities.*

  *No, obviously not. I suppose we’d better get busy finding out what I can do with it and what happens when you turn the diadem loose on it.*

  The flier was as responsive as a well-schooled horse, stopping, turning, dropping, darting, maneuvering through the treetops. There were no attack missiles; Aleytys could almost feel Synkatta shuddering at the thought. There was a strong defensive screen and a laser that seemed more suited to slicing stone samples to study in the laboratory than to defending the flier. Harskari held the stasis about it and they found it could make a creeping progress, enough to take it through the dome without alerting kephalos. They tried tuning it to the diadem; the propulsors didn’t work at all, but Aleytys found she could move the flier a short distance by willing it forward. When they phased back into the original reality, she sat with eyes closed, shaking with exhaustion, almost unable to move body or brain. Roused by acerbic prodding from Harskari, she reached for her power river and drew in energy to replace what she had expended. After a careful look at herself, she was content to find she hadn’t lost significant flesh this time. As she stepped off the landing disk onto the grass, she said, “A very pretty ship, yes. I wonder what Hyaroll did with the starship.”

  *Kephalos might know. If you care to ask. I think I might be expected to ask. Aschla curse all this fiddling around; as soon as I leave the dome kephalos is going to know something funny is happening. Leave the key strip here.*

  Ah. She chuckled as she started for the house. Tucked in my bed with a blanket dummy. Makes me wonder what you were like when you were a kid.

  *None of your business. I was a very proper child. Hmm. That’s open to some interesting interpretations. Hahh! go play your game with kephalos. Seriously, when do you think we should leave? It would be a good idea to reach him about an hour or so before the local dawn; his dawn is about thirteen hours ahead of ours. What’s the local time? Fourth hour after noon, plus a handful of minutes. Traveling time, giving ourselves some play for emergencies, five hours … I’d say we should leave here no later than the first hour after noon.*

  *Tomorrow? Aschla’s stinking hells, Harskari, you mean I have to wait a whole damn day?*

  *Up to you. We could leave earlier, get there earlier. Or leave now get there around first or second hour after dawn. For more precise timing you’d have to check with kephalos.*

  *And wouldn’t that be a great idea. Hunh.* She leaned against the door, frowning up at the faint shimmer of the dome. *I’m hungry. Let’s make it tomorrow noon—that’d give us an hour to play with. I think we’ll need to get past the outer rim of his defenses without tripping alarms.* ,

  Good. The amber eyes closed.

  Aleytys laughed and pushed open the door. “Ikanom,” she called, “I’m hungry.”

  The rest of the day crept along as she sought for ways to make the time pass. She had a long rambling chat with kephalos about Synkatta’s starship and found that Hyaroll had indeed taken it somewhere, but kephalos had no idea where that was; moved on to ways of strengthening the dome where everything she came up with either had already been done or was unworkable; went from that to talking about ways of pinning Kell down so she could do some attacking of her own rather than spending all her time and energy defending herself. “Think you can do that? It doesn’t have to be precise, just give me the general area.’’ That ought to stir his juices, she thought.

  She left kephalos humming contentedly to itself; she could feel a strong glow of pleasure from it as it sank metaphorical teeth into the first hard problem it had had in years. Remembering her impressions as she drifted through it when she was searching for the bomb, she decided that the kephaloi could end up being the true immortals of Vrithian. Long after the last Vryhh succumbed to the crushing weight of the ages, kephaloi in empty domes would be talking to each other and forming a society that could last as long as the world itself. She thought about that awhile, speculating on the nature of that society, until her meanderings became so absurd she laughed at herself and went looking for a book to read among the many shelved in Synkatta’s library.

  About an hour after midnight she closed the book, a novel by a writer exiled from Shiburr. The Vrya were a darkly threatening thread through the narration, though they were seldom mentioned directly. The native Shiburri went about their lives in the shadow of the domes, always conscious of the undying, a consciousness that seemed to intensify all emotions, all struggles, all relationships. The characters in the novel could not escape from that awareness, though some tried to deny it; others shriveled into futility; a few retreated so far they denied the world as well as the Vrya; some laced themselves to the Vrya, letting the undying use them in return for power over their own kind; the strongest concentrated resolutely on getting the most out of their day-to-day lives, treating the Vyra like a storm or earthquake or any other force of nature they couldn’t control but had to cope with. The main character was one of these last. It was a depressing novel, a catalogue of the disasters a good man could suffer, and it ended without hope, Shiburr unchanged and without possibility of changing. She pushed the book off the bed and turned on her back, lay staring into the darkness. After some minutes of chaotic thinking that led only to knots in her stomach, she began the calming exercises Vajd had taught her an eternity ago, cleared her mind and bludgeoned herself into a heavy sleep.

  Aleytys … leytys … eytys … tys … tys … Aleytys … tys … tys … tys. She woke with Ikanom’s slender hand shaking her, its voice echoing hollowly in her head. The nightmare-ridden sleep still clogging her thoughts, she pushed its hand away and sat up, scrubbed at her eyes, then emptied the cup of cha it handed her. “What time is it?”

  Ikanom took the cup and refilled it. “Almost the ninth hour of the day, Archira. Five hours till noon.”

  Aleytys sipped at the cha, feeling some of the haziness warming out of her head. “Ninth hour? Why’d you wake me before the time I set?”

  “Shareem anassa waits outside the dome, Archira.”

  “What? Let her … no … ahh.” She rubbed at her temple. “No, let me talk to her first. Take this.” She handed him the cup and tossed the covers aside, threw on one of the houserobes and padded across the room to the comscreen. “Reem?”

  Shareem’s face filled the screen. She looked weary and strained; her eyes had gone dull. “Loguisse came through,” she said. Her voice was as lifeless as her eyes. “Lee, don’t leave me out here ….”

  “You look tired.”

  “I haven’t slept ….”

  “Just a minute.” She blanked the screen. “Ikanom, is there anyone in the flier with her?”

  “No other brain patterns register, Archira.”

  “Good enough. Let her through and fix us some breakfast, you decide what. We’ll eat in the bookroom, um, yes, a fire, please, and get a bath ready for her.”

  She touched the image back on. “Come on in, breakfast’s waiting, a bath and bed.”

  Shareem said nothing, just nodded and cut the contact.

  Aleytys shook her head, pulled the robe tighter about her and tied the belt. What miserable luck. Why couldn’t she stay with Loguisse one more day? She ran down the flow-way and into the hall. Good thing she’s so tired, she’ll be sleeping when we go, I suppose it won’t matter leaving her alone, Kell will be too busy … ay, Madar, I wanted her with Loguisse just in case … hah, better not think of that, I just have to win, that’s all. She pulled the door open and stepped out. The flier was quiet on the landing disk. Shareem hadn’t come out yet. Aleytys ran a few steps, then walked more slowly, frowning. The lock iris began folding open. Harskari, she said, *I think I’ve done something really stupid this time.*

  Harskari’s eyes open, the diadem begins singing.

  Shareem appears in the lock, a massive dark shape behind her; she moves like an automaton. Aleytys remembers what her mother said an eternity ago: “If he gets close to me, I’ll do just about anything he tells me no matter how I hate it.” And I sent you out to him, she thinks, I was being so clever …. The thoughts pass across her mind in a blinding instant, then she is screaming and running at the flier in a nightmare of slow motion, Shareem has come awake, suddenly, terribly, as the dark form’s arm lifts she folds herself around it, fire explodes through her. No. No. No. The words scream in Aleytys’s head, her mouth is open but no sound comes out, she runs and runs through the eerie outphase world as the fire burning through her mother’s body passes through her without touching her. She runs up the flame as if it were a rope and drives her arms into that massive black form. It is like trying to feel about in cold bottom-of-the-barrel molasses, he has protected himself against her gift, the batteries are welded into their slots, if her tractor fields would work in this outphase world, she still would not have the strength to break the welds, the connecting wires are etched into the substance of the armor, paint on high-density metal like that used for the outer walls of starships, her hands scrabble about in him, there is nothing she can get hold of, she starts to panic, remembers the shattered body of her mother, cannot let him win, cannot, never, no, she finds the tiny drivers that power the joints, Harskari half-phases her hands, she snatches anything she can, breaks it, pulls it out, destroys those drivers, shoulders, elbows, wrists, down, hips, knees, ankles, oh Kell oh Kell oh cousin, I can do this to you because you forced me to learn it, up again, destroy the weapons, pull their packs, you weren’t so careful here. Harskari there beside her, white hair whipping about her dark worried face, Lee, she calls, Lee, enough, tend Shareem, Lee, get away from him, I’m taking you back, Lee do you hear me. Harskari’s voice finally is more than a mosquito whine in her ears, she finally comprehends what those words mean, she backs away, out the lock onto the landing disk and falls on her knees when the world moves at normal time about her.

  Shareem’s body completes its fall, splatting down beside her. The weight of her flesh is back on her bones, so heavy she almost cannot bear it. The stink of her mother’s flesh is in her mouth and nose, she reaches for the power, fumbles and cannot find it, this has happened before, calm, calm, be calm, reach slowly and carefully, you’re just tired, let the water come in, let it pool deeper and deeper in you, this is taking seconds, that’s all, it’s not wasting time, you can do nothing without the black water …. She moves on her knees to her mother’s body, reaches out. Shareem seems to see her, or feel her, the residue of life in her flinches away from the hands that want to heal her, flinches, then flows away and there is nothing Aleytys can do to stop it. She wants to die, she refused to let me make her live. She is dead. My mother is dead.

  Harskari was shouting at her. Something. For what seemed an eternity she couldn’t take in what the old one was saying, then she did and was appalled. “No! You can’t expect me to … No! it’s grotesque, I won’t … I can’t … you can’t be serious. No. Never. I won’t do it.”

  Why?

  “This is my mother, it isn’t stray meat.”

  Is it?

  “What?” Aleytys looked down at the cooling body; already it had the empty flattened look the dead acquire. “No,” she said, “no, not any longer, never again.” She began crying. For the second time her mother had abandoned her, and this time was far worse than before, this time she knew her.

  *I want that body, Aleytys. You swore you’d give me the body I chose. Keep your word, it isn’t that much I’m asking ….* On and on Harskari kept yammering at her; for some ghoulish reason she had to have Shareem’s discarded flesh. On and on until Aleytys felt like screaming, until she knew if she didn’t do this, she’d never again have a moment’s peace. And there wasn’t time for her to grow accustomed to the idea, already the brain was decaying and there was massive damage to the chest cavity that would have to be repaired. Either she acted in the next few breaths or it would be too late. Let it be done, she thought, let me be.

  She bent over her mother and laid her hands on the chilling body. Ignoring everything about her, she poured into it that power she’d been born to use, brought the body to a pseudo-life that halted the decay. Harskari gathered herself into a compact ball, wadding up the web of forces that was all the life she had. Aleytys caught hold of it and flung it into the empty envelope as she had done on Ibex with Shadith; no one to steady her this time, she had to do it alone, weary and unhappy. When what was empty was filled, what was on hold an instant before began to change. Stirred by the touch of Aleytys and the lapping flow of Harskari’s minute fields, bones began to knit, seared flesh sloughed away to be replaced by new healthy flesh, organs began to rebuild themselves, the gaping wound closed swiftly, healed from the inside out, new skin spread across the muscle, alabaster-white like the rest of her, other cuts and bruises and burns healed, hidden by the remnant of the robe Shareem had worn. Harskari was dimly aware of these, though Aleytys wasn’t, she was focused on rebuilding the damaged brain, a long and tedious task with no allowances for error. Minutes drifted by, an hour passed. The brain was more complex than the one Shadith had inherited, the damage was more comprehensive. There were places where there was so little left intact Aleytys had to use her own brain as a template, patching the new in with the old, working with hope and a prayer the new sections would meld with the old. When there was no more damage that she could find, she flooded the body with her power water, kicking it over from death into life, then she sat back on her heels and waited, ready to help if Harskari ran into difficulties. The blaze of the old one’s spirit grew stronger as she slid more deeply into the body. She blinked the eyes, moved the mouth, sucked in a long breath and let it trickle out. She lifted a hand, wriggled the fingers, let it fall back onto the grass, bent the knees, straightened them out, twisted both feet from side to side. The mouth curled into a small smile. She braced the hands against the grass and pushed herself up, straightened her back, squared her shoulders, lifted her head. The small smile broadened into a grin. “You’ve done it again, daughter.” The voice was a little mushy and held to a deeper register than Shareem was accustomed to using, but there were enough similarities to make Aleytys wince.

  “Don’t,” she said.

  “What? Oh. Sorry, Habit, I suppose.” With every word Harskari’s control improved. She began a series of pulling, twisting, stretching exercises.

  Aleytys watched for a breath or two, then was aware of a weight circling her head. She reached up, touched it, traced her finger about the delicate cool wires of a flower petal. The diadem, gone inert when the last of its captive souls escaped. She lifted it off, held it in front of her, draped over her hands, flexible, fragile, lovely; a circlet of jewel-hearted lilies spun from gold wire. She touched one of the jewels and felt somewhere deep within her a single shimmering note. Jewel flowerhearts catching the sunlight and splintering it into a thousand tiny gleams, it began to sing to her, weaving a spell of longing about her; it was waking again, calling out for new victims. With a cry half of pain, half of desire, she flung the diadem away from her. It landed in a heap on the grass, gone inert again when it no longer fed off the heat of her hands.

  A pall settled over her mind. Hard to think. Her eyes blurred. What … Her symbolic black water seethed within her; she flushed the fatigue poisons out of herself, but that didn’t help, the pall grew heavier, pressing in on her; her head felt like a pumpkin someone was stepping on. Someone … she slid around, frowned at the inert lump of armor blocking most of the lock … squeezing her brain … Kell … trapped in the metal that was meant to protect him … memory: Kell, wasted from disease, sprawling in the heavy embrace of his exoskeleton … she could feel him now, feel the malevolence pouring out of him, he’d tripped a switch, one she’d missed, and cut out his mind shields, the shields that convinced kephalos there was no one in the flier with Shareem, he’d cut them out and was attacking her. His body was prisoner but his mind wasn’t. A massive blow shook her. She was pinned, she couldn’t answer it. She wrestled with the hold he had on her. Stupid, stupid to forget him, to concentrate so completely on Shareem’s body and Harskari’s transference. She fought him, managed to move her arms, hugged them across her breasts, bowed her head. She knelt in a silvery bubble, fragile as smoke, inside swirling battering forces … no escape … no escape … no … no … creeping in like oil smoke … hate … anger … tendrils of noisome smoke brushing against the bubble … it sagged … she pushed against the weak spot … she was slow … heavy … without the diadem, weaker, sluggish … the bubble began to crumple as fear distracted her … no … no! Fighting the pressure meant to snuff her like a candle flame, she raised onto her knees, brought one leg up, put the weight on the foot, leaned forward, laid one hand on top of the other on the knee, pressed down, brought the other foot forward, pushed slowly up until she was standing, leaning a little forward. Step by step, driving herself against the hurricane wind of his will, she moved toward him. He took the pressure suddenly away. She stumbled, nearly fell, ran on two steps, whimpering; instead of steady pressure, he was pummeling at her, punishing blows that kept her off balance, staggering. She tripped over the rim of the landing saucer, jarred onto her knees; she could feel his triumph as he drove in, smashing her defenses down, squeezing her smaller and smaller. She curled up, knees to chest, strength draining from her as he bore in and in.

  Abruptly the pressure was gone. Only for a second. Something had distracted him. She didn’t care about that; she built her bubble back, struggled onto her feet and started for him again, seeing nothing but him, that black beetle carapace crouching inert and broken in the lock. A flash of red. His head and shoulders were free. Another streak of red. Harskari in Shareem’s body kicking at his head from behind. Aleytys ran three steps closer, plowed into the hate wind, leaned into it, fighting toward him, one foot sliding forward, then the other, closing faster whenever Harskari could break through the wind and jar him with a kick or a slap before she was flung back again, disappearing into the interior of the flier. Anger turning to desperation, Kell writhed about, fighting to trip the half-destroyed latches manually so he could free himself from the armor, slamming brute mind-blows at her as he worked. She staggered, crashed to her knees, fought back onto her feet; she was on the disk, only two long strides from the flier, but she couldn’t cross that tiny space. Couldn’t. Driven by hate, using a skill he had honed through centuries of killing, he was stronger, harder, faster; without Harskari’s intervention, she’d already be dead. He drove her back, knocked her feet from under her; she crawled toward him, he flung her back, she floundered, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Harskari dragged herself to him and slapped hard at his head; he struck at her, knocking her into a sprawl. While he was distracted, Aleytys surged onto her feet and dived at him, landing splayed out across the massive legs of the battlesuit. Mind-fire seared her nerve ends, she screamed, wept, clawed herself along. Behind him, Harskari pulled herself onto her feet, stood leaning against the side of the lock, a hand pressed to her stomach, breathing rapidly and shallowly; she lifted her foot, pressed it against the wall. Her face went blank with the intensity of her concentration, then she uncoiled from the wall, one stride into a leap, a kick to the head; in almost the same breath Aleytys was up and surging forward; the kick drove his head forward and to the right; Harskari twisted away, slamming into the side of the lock before she could stop herself; the heel of Aleytys’s hand hit his jaw, drove his head back the other way; he was tough, it only dazed him, he shook his head slightly trying to clear it, but for the first time she was free enough to use her talent, the talent muted by the discarding of the diadem; she reached, put pressure on nerves until he stopped struggling, until he almost stopped breathing.