The Last Aerie (70 page)

Yes
, Nathan thought,
and now I have another brother who is also Wamphyri
, but the thought was entirely his own. While out loud: “No.” He shook his head. “The Dweller is no more. And my father’s dead, too. I remember Lardis talking about it. It was a weapon out of Perchorsk that killed them: “a breath of hell”! It also killed off the rest of the old Wamphyri, as they were at that time. But the new Wamphyri… they are different.”

“How, different?”

“They’re clever.” Nathan thought of Maglore of Runemanse, and automatically touched the golden sigil in his ear. “They’re more devious, more devilish! They pretend civilization,
sophistication?
But that only makes them worse.”

“I know what you mean,” Trask nodded. “In this world, some years ago, we had a man called Hitler. He was civilized, “sophisticated”, too—as were his ideologies, his machines of destruction, and the genocide which he would have turned loose on the majority of the human race!”

“What happened to him?”

“We killed him, and his army. But his ideas … are taking a little longer. We are winning, though. In this world, anyway. And we can win in yours, too.”

“Not if you can’t reach it.”

“Give us a chance. Now that we know Turkur Tzonov’s plans, or believe we do, we’re working on it. We’re working hard.”

“Doing what?”

“Before we built the Refuge, and while we were building it, we tried to get up the river. Harry had done it in stages, making what he called ‘Mobius jumps’ from point to point. Also, he had help from a dead friend or two, Romanian potholers who had tried it before him and failed. So, we brought in some experts of our own and equipped them with the best possible gear.”

“Potholers?”

Trask explained, and finished: “Oh, yes. There are people in this world who explore caves for pleasure! As for the people we used … it was strictly business.”

Nathan gave a grunt. “Huh! In Sunside they do it to hide—and to live!”

“Our people tried to reach the Gate much as your father had done,” Trask continued, “by moving up the underground river in stages. Except they were handicapped; they didn’t have Harry’s special talents, deadspeak and the Mobius Continuum; they only had aqualungs, powerful lights, prop-driven towing torps …”

Again he must pause to explain. For while Nathan had read the pictures in his mind, still the technology was way beyond him.

“Since then,” Trask went on, “there have been a good many developments. The design of exploratory equipment has improved. But up until now we felt we no longer needed it. After the Refuge had been built we felt safer—the whole world was safer! Nothing was going to come out of that subterranean river without us knowing about it and how to deal with it. Anything that got itself caught up in the sumps under the Refuge was either harmless or … or it was dead. Or soon would be. Our systems are at least as good as those in Perchorsk, if not better …

“So the Russians had their Gate closed off and we were in control in Romania. We no longer had any requirement to reach the Gate itself; everything would be fine as long as we, and the Opposition, were able to guarantee that nothing was going to—escape?—into our world and society …”

“Except now something has escaped,” Nathan nodded. “Me!”

“You are not what I meant.”

“I know. So what’s next?”

“I promised you we’d help you, and we will. But … what’s it been? Four days?” Trask shrugged, however ruefully. “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to put up with your frustrations a little longer than that, Nathan. Maybe for as long as four months!”

“Four months?” Nathan made a conversion. “Sixteen sunups? But if your equipment is that much better now, why delay it?”

Again Trask’s shrug. “It’s a combination of knowhow and opportunity. That river is subject to flash floods. Even without them it’s a tricky enough proposition, else we’d have been in there long ago. But any sudden increase in the pressure or the depth of the water … would spell disaster! Four months from now it will be spring going on summer —” And again he had to pause to explain the seasons. “And our weather forecasting will be that much more reliable. As soon as we know it isn’t going to rain, we’ll send a team up. Then, depending on their report…”

“You’ll send me?”

“That’s a promise. Meanwhile, we learn a little from you, and you learn a lot from us.”

“Four months,” Nathan said again, his voice very small. “And all that time I won’t know what’s going on back home. I won’t know what’s happening. To Lardis, the Travellers, Misha—won’t even know if she survived.”

Trask felt helpless. He shrugged again, sighed and said, “Son, I don’t like saying this, but you’d better get used to the idea: it will take as long as it takes. And I repeat, in between times you give us a little help, and we’ll give you a lot. It has to be the easiest route. The other way means sullen silence, solitude and sheer boredom—for you. Oh, we’ll still get you back to your own place eventually, if that’s at all possible, but you’ll miss out on a lot of good friends you could have made along the way.”

Nathan had finished with his food. Looking thoughtful, he sat back and toyed with a small jade green clasp, turning it in his fingers. It caught Trask’s eye. “I’ve seen you playing with that before. A keepsake out of Sunside?”

Nathan shook his head. “No, out of Perchorsk.” For a moment he looked wistful. “It belonged to Siggi.”

His words hit Trask like a slap in the face, but he kept it hidden. This was something new, the first time Nathan had mentioned Siggi’s name to anyone. “Siggi Dam, did you say?” Trask was alert now. He reached out and was handed the clasp. And as he examined it he asked, “Er,
why
did she give it to you?”

Nathan glanced away, shrugged. “A keepsake, as you said.”

“And does David Chung know about this … keepsake?”

Nathan looked puzzled. “Why should he?”

Trask nodded and smiled, however tightly. “Well, he should, that’s all …” He gave the trinket back, and finished the rest of his meal in silence. It could all be perfectly innocent, of course, but on the other hand Chung wasn’t the only locator in the world. And as long as Nathan persisted in carrying that clasp around with him …

Did Turkur Tzonov know where Nathan was—his
exact
location—even now? But if that was the case, why hadn’t he picked him up west of the Urals? Trask let it go for now and finished his meal…

They had talked pretty much in circles and Trask couldn’t be sure if anything had been resolved. But he hoped so. Finally he pushed his plate away and watched Nathan drain the dregs of his beer. Then he said: “You were telling me about the new Wamphyri, out of Turgosheim?”

Nathan looked at him. “Turgosheim lies in the east, beyond the Great Red Waste. They live there now, but very soon they’ll move west; and there are a great many of them. The Lady Wratha and the others who have already fled west, they’re only a handful …” Then, pausing to reflect upon his own words, he gave a rueful snort.
“Only a
handful, yes, but they’ve devastated Sun-side! Only Lardis Lidesci has the measure of them, but for how long? I suppose he knows they’ll get him in the end, and he’ll pay for his defiance and the damage he’s caused them in hell!”

Trask was eager for all of this. He knew that the men who were debriefing Nathan probably had it on tape, but he hadn’t had time to listen to it in detail. And anyway it came better from Nathan himself. “Wratha and these others: they’ve established themselves in the territories of the Old Wamphyri? But I thought that Harry Keogh and The Dweller had destroyed all of the old aeries?”

Nathan nodded. “Destroyed them, yes. All except one. And that’s where they live: in the last aerie of the Old Wamphyri, called Karenstack upon a time.”

Trask snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes! I remember! Harry let that one stand, because in the last battle Karen sided with him and The Dweller and his people.”

Nathan shrugged tiredly. “The last battle? Not quite; there have been others since, and there will be more. But I know what you mean. Anyway, you’d know more about that than I do, for it was before I was born.”

Trask knew even more than Nathan thought he did. Looking back on it, he remembered Harry’s debriefing:

The Dweller had let Karenstack alone for his own reasons, but his father the Necroscope had a different reason entirely. The Lady Karen was Wamphyri, as was The Dweller. If Harry could find a cure for her, he might eventually free his son from the curse of vampirism. He’d tried it; it didn’t work; Karen died. And The Dweller had known what Harry had done. Then, because he feared that his father might try a similar “cure” on him, he took away his metaphysical powers and returned him to his own world. And that had been the beginning of the end for Harry Keogh.

Nathan read all of this in his mind. “The Dweller was that powerful?”

Standing up to take out his wallet, Trask answered, “Yes, he was. He knew stuff his father couldn’t even begin to understand. How to get from here to Sunside/ Starside, for example, without using a Gate.” He paid for their meal.

“A powerful… weapon?” They headed for the exit.

“I won’t lie to you,” Trask answered. “You, too, are a son of Harry Keogh. It’s possible you have the same kind of potential. We had hoped to give you the clues to open it up. We still have hopes that you’ll join us, see this thing through with us against Tzonov, maybe even stay with us and help us to build a better world here. I mean, when all of this is over.”

“Misha is in Sunside. And that’s where I belong, too.”

Passing out into the noisy street, Trask’s look was intent, urgent as he turned to Nathan and said: “Then make Sunside
safe
for her, for yourself, for all of the Szgany! And at the same time make this world safe, too.” Then, seeing the other’s reticence, his uncertainty, he turned away and hailed a taxi. Now he must leave it to Nathan to make up his own mind.

But in the taxi on the way back to E-Branch HQ, Nathan told him: “Very well, Ben, I’ll give it a try. Turn me into a weapon if you can. But I’ll warn you now: there will have to be a very good reason before I’ll let you use me against ordinary people. Against the Wamphyri, that is something else. But not against ordinary people.”

Trask sighed his relief, nodded and answered: “Judge us as you find us, Nathan. And if we don’t measure up, you can always wave us farewell as you enter the Gate.

But I think you’ll discover that ours is a worthy cause. In the long ago, Sir Keenan Gormley had just as much trouble recruiting your father. But it was worth it in the end.”

Nathan looked at him. “To you, maybe. But what about Harry? Was it worth it to him?”

Trask remembered the Necroscope as he had last seen him and couldn’t repress a shudder, however slight. But the fact of it was, he knew that Harry wouldn’t have had it any other way. And so he answered: “I think it was, yes. Anyway, that’s the way it was and no one can change it now.”

“Fate?” Nathan was quiet, thoughtful. “Destiny?”

“Something like that. Your father had a saying: “What will be, has been”. And we have another: ‘Like father, like son.’ ”

Nathan thought about that last, thought about himself and about Nestor, and said nothing. There was nothing to say, for Trask’s maxim held true on both counts …

Back at HQ Trask had a word with David Chung, and Chung broke into Nathan’s session with a maths instructor to ask him about Siggi Dam’s clasp. The session came to a halt as Chung examined the clasp and felt for its aura. Strange, because there wasn’t one. He asked Nathan if he could borrow the trinket; he would return it undamaged, of course; it could be that the clasp was a sort of locating device and dangerous as such.

Mystified, Nathan let him take it and returned to his basic maths lesson. Ten minutes later Chung burst into Trask’s office without knocking, to tell him: “Ben, this is weird!” He tossed the clasp onto Trask’s desk. “You were right to put me onto it. First, this piece is entirely free of psychic probes; it’s not being used to locate Nathan. Next: I tried using it to locate Siggi Dam. Now, I know she’s good and has this psychic mind-smog. But with a locator mind-smog works two ways. If I wasn’t able to find her, still I’d find the smog! Except I can’t. She isn’t there.”

“What?” Trask had been busy with paperwork and his mind was only just beginning to focus on what Chung was saying. “She isn’t where?”

“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Chung threw his arms wide. “She isn’t anywhere! It’s as if … it’s like Jazz Simmons all over again. I mean, Siggi Dam is one of two things: either dead or disappeared. And … you know what I’m thinking? Ben, this thing feels just like Jazz, and like Harry.
That
kind of disappeared!”

“What!?”
Now Trask was all of a hundred per cent with him. “Disappeared into the Perchorsk Gate? Is that what you’re saying?” He got to his feet, came round the desk.

Chung picked up the clasp. “That’s how it feels, yes. Not that she’s dead—though she could be; I haven’t enough experience of her to be sure—but rather that she’s … gone!”

Trask found himself wondering about Nathan and Siggi, about what else had passed between them other than her clasp.

And remembering what he knew about Turkur Tzonov’s psychological profile, he couldn’t help but wonder how the telepath would repay that sort of treachery.

Taking Chung’s arm, he said: “David, not a word of this to Nathan—not yet—but it could be our ace card. We have to be careful how we play it, that’s all.”

They were still like that, facing each other—wondering what had happened, what was happening even now, in Perchorsk—when suddenly a babble of excited voices reached them from the corridor. The door stood ajar just as Chung had left it. Trask threw it open and both men looked out.

Halfway down the corridor, Ian Goodly and a group of espers had gathered in a huddle. They were crowded round a door to one of the rooms, looking in. Others were running to join them. Trask glanced at Chung, and queried: “Harry’s room? I had the name-plate taken down. When Nathan starts reading … it might have proved a distraction.”