The Nonborn King (23 page)

You like it It's what you are, where you came from, what you're made of.

Stop Don't stop Let me die rather than know The agony of realization The reaming, refining pain burning through the brain along the channels opened by fury Stop Don't stop.

Scream, he invited Only scream for an end.

But she would not, and the wheel, come full circle, earned her down again into the feculent trough Her soul shrank, her identity hid away in the liny mental sanctuary that remained buned in contradictions of pleasure and pain, humiliation and rapture, love and hate He was destroying her, creating her Demolishing her, perfecting her Driving her insane as he unwittingly .set free her superhuman metapsychic potential Killing her in the act of love

Stop Don't stop Torturer Beloved

The raven flopped weakly under the enormous blood-sun The disk was spinning, throwing off foul-smellmg drops that bumed her, extruding a kind of jet, a vortex that sought her out and tried to pierce her again

You will not, she told it There is no pleasure in the pain anymore None ever again until I invade and break you, 0 Beloved The passive earth was not enough.

At length, the sabertooth cats finished and sal in the sun, licking theu paws and washing their faces They were magnificent things, patterned with marbled squares that merged into dark stripes and spots at the head and extremities The male strolled over to sniff the moribund raven But the bud was a repellent object, exuding suffering, and the cat merely gave it a contemptuous swat before turning away and leading its mate off for their afternoon nap.

The bird roused from its stupor and called Culluket.

Felice.

Is that you Beloved?

No it is I Elizabeth My poor Felice Let me help you.

Help? Stop?

I can help you Stop the nightmares and the misery.

Stop? Stop painpleasure?

It's not really pleasure. That part is gone What's left is only pain. A mind full of pain and guilt. A sick mind Let me help

Help? Only he can help By dying.

Not true I can help Wash away all the filth forever Make you bright and clean and new. I can never be I am only fit to be despised shunned execrated shit upon.

Not true You can be healed Come to me

Come? But they are coming' Coming to me' To bow down and give homage and follow To gift me with my heart's desire Come to YOU? Stupidstupidstupid,

They are liars Felice They will not give you what you need They will only use you to gain what they seek

They seek my Beloved To please me To restore my joy'

No They lie to you

Theydonotcannottheyaredarkangels,

They are human beings Operant metapsychic humans

Not devils?

Humans They lied Listen to me Felice You know that I was a powerful mmdheater in the Milieu I will heal you if you only come freely to me I will ask nothing in return I will not seek to bind you I am constrained by superego block never to harm a thinking being I only wish to see you healthy in mind and free and at peace The others cannot do this for you

Perhaps they can'

Ask them

I will' And I'll find out soon enough if they're lying about bringing me Cull

Test them

Yes Yes Elizabeth? Could you really erase the nightmare? It's the wrong kind of pain you know

I know It's part of your sickness To perceive pain as pleasure sometimes Your mental circuits are dislocated It happened when you were very young But you can be healed if you open to me admit me freely Will you come ·'

Come? Stop the pain? Don't stop' Yes? No' CULLUKET' CULLUKET' CULLUKET'

The raven took wing, crying harshly Down below on the Spanish steppe, the sabertooth cats dozed and the herd of gazelles grazed unmolested.

HIGH ON AFALIAH'S SOUTHERN RAMPART, LOOKING DOWN UNseeing upon the tumult of the afternoon fighting practice, the two old First Comers quarreled.

"Principles! Principles'" raved Aluteyn Craftsmaster "Hungry people will tell you where to stick your principles' Celo, the Flood's unhinged your wits!"

"Should I have remained a hostage to Lowlife gadgetry?" Celadeyr demanded rhetorically. "The thing was a symbol of everything Nodonn warned us against. Only human operators understood it' It was a tool of soulless Milieu technocracy!"

"Well, it's nobody'stool now, you bungling idiot Why didn't you exercise your high-minded idealism on something less vital to the local economy? There can't be two weeks' worth of flour left in the southern warehouses! Sweet tittuping Tana, every city between here and Amalizan depends on your mill. Are we all supposed to eat parched groats and mush?"

"Why not?" the Lord of Afaliah shouted. "They'd be-a damn sight more healthy for you than the sissified pastries and croissants and Gil Bias pancakes you usually stuff yourself with' Just look at yourself, Al. You're toting more lard than ever A fine excuse for a city-lord! If the Foe attacks your Catamosk. you'll look like a hippo in emerald armor leading the battlecharge! A diet of honest, old-fashioned food would do you good "

"Thank you very much for the advice " The Craftsmaster's voice was silky He thrust his face with its silver-gold mustaches and bushy brows nose to nose with that of his old friend. "Odd, isn't it, but I had the mistaken impression you called me down here to ask my help. not to read me a health-food lecture and insult my physique! Well, live and leam. And fix your bloody flour mill yourself!" He whirled about and went stomping toward the stairway

"Al, come back." The words were forced out. The mindplea was desolate. "I am a bungler. All I intended to do was disconnect the mill's robotics- Go back to direct control by people Modify the operation so that we weren't so dependent on the Lowlives."

The Craftsmaster paused at the head of the stairs and waited for Celadeyr to come to him. "Did you think you were tinkering with some hydro-powered grist mill back home on Duat? That was your speed, Celo' Primitive machinery for a primitive mind."

"This contraption . do you know it yields forty-three different milling products? Everything from silk-sifted cake flour to the red-dog chaff we feed the hellads. Tracing the circuits of the flour-stream blender to allow for manual operation seemed straightforward enough, but I forgot about the sample analyzer with its additive-injection unit for quality control Bypass that and you get raw stuff with a funny color and unpredictable properties that brings the bakers screaming- Try to inject the additives manually and you end up with half-poisonous crap contaminated with benzoyl peroxide and potassium bromate and Tana knows what else."

"This could be tncky, Celo, even for me. Where's the technician who supervised the robotics before?"

"Jorgensen drowned, with most of his senior staff. They were great sports fans. The fellow that took over was an insolent bastard. Bareneck, untorcable. according to the redactors Tried to pressure me Me! I zapped mm to a greasy smut."

"That's useful."

"Should I have compromised my authority?" Celadeyr bellowed. His face glowed incandescent and his hair crackled with static charges. "That wretched Mukherji thought he had me over a barrel! Said he'd do his job only if I granted him the privileges of a gold-tore! And his seditious trickery was beginning to spread among the other human technicians- Oh, they know very well that Aiken Drum has promised golden tores to every human who's compatible, and full civil rights to those who aren't- I've had Boduragol and his redactors deepreaming alt the barenecks and the human golds in Afaliah, weeding out traitors."

"But I'm a traitor, too, Ceio," The Craftsmaster's smile was sardonic- "I'm attainted! A deposed High Tabler who shirked his death-offering,"

"Don't be ridiculous, Al, You chose death over exile voluntarily and then you un-chose it when circumstances changed. As far as I'm concerned, you're still Lord Creator. And to hell with Aiken Drum's redheaded Lowlife quim!"

Aluteyn laughed. "Oh, no you don't. You don't rope me into your traditionalist suicide corps. I've learned too much about Aiken Drum in the past months to go against him! I'll dance at the little gold rapscallion's wedding in May and drink Slonshal to him and Mercy-Rosmar."

"You'd accept him as kingT'' Celadeyr cried.

"Why not? Minanonn's the only other possibility, and he won't play. I'll take the kid over Sharn-Mes and Ayfa any day."

Celadeyr gripped the Craftsmaster by both upper arms. Overflowing psychoenergy enkindled a furious aura about both of them. "It's the Nightfall War that's brewing. Al! Can't you see. Creative Brother? What's coming is the final conflict between us and the Foe, the one we were about to begin when the Galactic Federation denied us our heritage and hounded us to Void's Edge! Brede forestalled the Nightfall that time when she carried us here with her Ship. But Brede's gone now, and this poor fool of an Elizabeth can never take her place. You belong with me, Al! We're of an age, coming up ors three thousand orbits from our birth on poor lost Duat. Pace the Nightfall with me!"

"Celo, "

The Lord of Afaliah gestured down into the courtyard of the citadel, where an armed free-for-all was under way. "We're getting ready for it! All of the Tanu who are faithful to the old traditions. The loyal members of NontusvePs Host are here. Sixteen of them, including Kuhal Earthshaker."

Aluteyn gave his old comrade a pitying glance. "Low-power hotheads, and I know all about poor Kuhal."

"More people join us every day," Cetadeyr asserted stoutly, but his hands fell away from the Craftsmaster and the glow paled.

"And the wild Firvulag in the mountains are sharpening their blades and stealing your chalikos and wailing for Sharn's reinforcements before they pounce!.. .Who's running your plantations now that you fired the human administrators? Quite a few of them stopped off in Calamosk on their way to join Aiken Drum."

Celadeyr looked away. "My son Uriel and daughter Fethneya are installing Tanu overseers. As we had in the beginning."

The Craftsmaster snorted. "And don't I know how much the younger generation's worth when it comes to hard work! When I ran Creation House, it was all we could do to find candidates for the practical disciplines. For agriculture, husbandry, game management. You'll find that your children's cronies are marvels at giving feasts and composing ballads and riding to the Hunt when the quarry's flea-bitten Lowlife refugees. But to depend on them for production of your staple commodities, ? Goddess give you the brains of a nit! This broken-down flour mill will be the least of your worries if the plantations fail."

Celadeyr's face was as lusteriess as the parapet stones and his mind had gone shut. He said. in tones of utmost formality, "Aluteyn Craftsmaster, I adjure thee by our sacred Creator Guild kinship to come to my aid. The Nightfall War approaches and the Adversary is nigh."

The First Comers faced each other unmoving. Then Atuteyn's ice-blue eyes misted over and the thoughts came tumbling out: Celo Celo lads we were together fellowimtiates under old Amergan (Goddess grant him rest in light) creators makers doers workers' Never faltering even in pain caring ourpeople's welfare building sheltering affirming life I chose Retort when death was proper but now it is right I live castmgaside weariness embracing duty As you must'

"My vision is of the Nightfall War'" Celadeyr said "Or do you think I've gone mad'?"

I think Flood loss sorrow ascendence of Foe rage at Ravensdeed have brought you to your own VoidsEdge Perhaps beyond We need not accept this as Nightfall' If we swallow pnde unite humans we can restrain Foe renew Many-ColoredLand

So many colors And now all dark

Celo our elder generation may not force end when young would choose life.

The Adversary comes' Humanity' Alken Drum'

No Celo no He cannot be Not the Kingmaker's Chosen.

I had forgotten that.

"Then it's time you remembered," said a loud voice from nowhere.

A dazzling point of light hovered a few meters beyond the southern edge of the parapet, where the wall of Afaliah dropped off into the precipitous gorge of the Proto-Jucar The spark expanded into a radiance surrounding a crystalline sphere Inside. seated upon thin air with his legs crossed, was a small human wearing a golden suit all covered with pockets.

"You," said Celadeyr of Afaliah

The sphere drifted toward them and descended, shivering to atoms as it touched the stone pavement. Alken Drum doffed his plumed hat.

"Hail, Creative Brother of Afaliah I've been eavesdropping on you for the last ten minutes or so You really ought to listen to the Craftsmaster's advice He's a touchy old coot, but sensible in the main "

The old champion was suddenly transformed into a jovian apparition that towered hugely against the sky with one hand portentously upraised "Die. upstart'" he bellowed in a voice of thunder, and hurled his most potent mindbolt The resultant detonation and blast of green light caused all the knights down in the courtyard to freeze in their tracks, their mock battle forgotten

"Battle companions' To me'" Celadeyr called but the voice of the hero was now as weak as the whisper of leaves, and his mind's cry of balked wrath seemed to echo futilely within the vault of his skull Celadeyr cast off his illusory aspect and strained to seize the usurper in his physical grip Not a muscle would respond He was immobile, helpless, and so were the stricken knights below

"And we were such good friends on the Deibaeth Quest," said Alken regretfully "Don't you remember. Creative Brother^ Chasing the old Shape of Fire up one Betic and down the next, afraid to take to the air for fear he'd fry our glass-armored scuts?" The Shining One chuckled "If we hunted Deibaeth now, we'd have no such worry My powers have come on nicely, as you can see One of these days, I hope to have Dionket Lord Healer do my mind-assay right in front of the lot of you, so you can see what manner of lad aspires to be your king "

Celadeyr's incandescent face had gone chlorotic In a raspy whisper, he said, "Free me Fight like a true wamor "

"Fight you?" inquired the trickster lightly "Not bloody likely I don't take on cowards "

"Cowards, '"

Stepping close to the statuesque Tanu, Alken floated up until the two of them were eye to eye "You're a washed-up, worn-out, sad old death-seeking coward I'm willing to take on the Firvulag Who cares if they outnumber us ten to one1? But the great High Table Lord of Afaliah would rather lie down and die Or rather, march into the teeth of a mounted ogre battalion with a dotted line drawn on his throat and a tag that says CUT HERE''