The Shadow Matrix (80 page)

their silence, he suspected they were afraid of him and Marguerida, too.

Marguerida
—
we have to get them functioning.

Yes, we must. You take that man that dropped the crystal, and I'll start on the woman.

Mikhail stepped over the unconscious Keeper, and walked over to the man beside the

screen. He was a little afraid, for while he had learned how to clear Marguerida, he had

never done any healing on another person. She had her own matrix to protect her, and

he was concerned that he might kill the man with intended kindness. Still, it had to be

done, and quickly.

He lifted his hand slowly, and felt warmth begin to pulse along his muscles.

Marguerida had told him as well as she could how it felt to clear him back in the

deserted kitchen, and he could only hope he had understood her. A flush of well-being

coursed along his veins, and he felt as if he glowed. Then he extended his hand and

tried to perceive the man's own distinct energy, tried to mesh with it. It was very

difficult, and he could feel sweat popping out on his forehead. He did not know the

man as he knew his wife:

All his awareness narrowed to a single point, and he channeled energy through it. It

felt peculiar, and he wanted to pull away. It was intimate, more so than working in a

circle, and with a complete stranger, it aroused something distasteful in him. Then he

realized it was too much like sex for his own liking. Mikhail had never been with a

male, and had never wished to be.

Then he felt a surge from himself, and the man gasped. His pale face went rosy, and he

gave Mikhail a look that spoke volumes. He must have felt the same way—it was not

rape, but close enough to it to be embarrassing.

"Whoever you are, thank you. I am Davil Syrtis."

"What should we do about
her,"
asked the woman Marguerida had helped. "I'd like to

break her neck," she added viciously, "but killing is almost too good for her."

"Now, Betha—hasn't there been enough killing?"

"She let my sister Clarinda die of burns," Betha replied, baring her teeth. "And she

kept us here, pulling up that dreadful yellowstone, and did not care if we lived or died.

She is a monster."

"Amirya is a problem, but not the greatest one." It was

the gruff man who had spoken before. Marguerida was just stepping away from him,

and had apparently done some quick work. "We are trapped here, and we have to

escape. And we cannot leave the yellowstone just sitting in there— because it is too

dangerous." He looked at Mikhail, then at Marguerida. "I hope you have not gotten us

out of the cookpot and into the fire, strangers."

The woman called Betha feebly chuckled. "Don't mind Marius—he always looks on

the dark side. But, what are we going to do?" She put a hand to her forehead. "My

mind feels as if it was stuffed with Dry Town cotton, and not the finest sort either!

Ever since they dragged us here from Hali, they have been giving us something filthy.

Some
aphrosone,
and something else, too. But she found out we could not really work

with it—it made us too stupid to be useful! So there has been less of it, but I still feel . .

. feeble-minded!" There was no mistaking the outrage in her voice, and the way in

which she looked at the unconscious Keeper did not bode well for Amirya.

Mikhail hesitated now, still discomforted by his healing of Davil. These folk were

looking to him and Marguerida for rescue, and they did not have a plan. He felt the

stirring of his doubting self, his unloved shadow, so full of despair. Would he ever be

free of his fears? What could they do? They were both younger than several of the

men, and most of the women. They were out of place and out of time, and both now

had powers they had hot learned to use completely. But they must not fail these people.

Somehow, they had to think of a way to save them and themselves as well.

Mikhail forced himself to focus. He started checking off on his fingers. "We have to

neutralize Amirya, destroy the Screens completely, and get rid of that yellowstone. And

escape from here." He added the last, but he despaired of reaching that stage.

Marius cackled. "We can hardly stand up unassisted. She has kept, us weak, even

though she needed us to be strong enough to work."

"What manner of
laran
is this?" Davil asked. "Are you a healer or an angel?"

Before Mikhail could think of a reply, he noticed the flutter of Amirya's eyelids. Her

hand moved toward the starstone dangling between her breasts. The gesture was

one he had seen before, and Mikhail had a sense of his own fate so strong it nearly

made him sick. He had prepared for this moment without ever guessing it. If he had

never met Emelda, he could not do what he must.

Mikhail swallowed his revulsion as he reached out and took the leather thong in his

fingers. For a second Amirya's eyes met his, pleading, demanding. There was a brief

struggle of wills as his hand closed around the narrow leather and pity warred with

fury within him. She was very young and foolish, but he could not let that stop him.

Then he yanked the lace sharply, and felt it give between his fingers.

Amirya gave a thin cry, a wailing note of despair, and slipped back to the floor. Her

eyes rolled back in her head, showing the whites, and then her entire body began to

convulse. Sickened by what he had done, Mikhail could only, stand over her, the

matrix dangling from his hand, hating himself and knowing he had had no choice.

"Why do you weep for that creature?" Davil's question brought him back, and to his

surprise, he found that tears were running down his face.

"I don't know," Mikhail replied, wiping away the wetness with his sleeve. And he did

not, for his feelings were almost overwhelming. He had to get himself calmed down,

and quickly. Later, when they were away from this hateful place, he would curse

himself and Varzil and fate. But not now.

"It is no worse than she has done to us," Marius muttered bitterly.

Betha had turned toward one of the working screens, while Marguerida continued her

way around the circle of workers, clearing their drug-drenched cells. Mikhail watched

Betha, who was probably a mechanic, study the screen knowledgeably. Then she began

to displace the crystals, working with care, the thick gloves impeding her efforts. One

of the men who had not spoken yet joined her after Marguerida had done her work, and

between them they had the screen disabled quite quickly.

Mikhail was still extremely upset, and he felt remote and distant from the movements

of people around him. He tried to bring himself back to the task at hand, knowing that

what he had done to Amirya was actually the easiest item on his list, and dismantling

the screens, in the hands of

competent technicians, was not very difficult. But the hard parts lay ahead, and he

almost despaired.

What could he do about the yellowstone? And how were they going to escape this

dreadful place? Ten exhausted
leroni
were no match for the barrack full of armsmen he

had discovered in his mental wanderings, even with Marguerida's restorative abilities.

He shook himself, forcing his fears down in his mind. These people were looking to

him for leadership, and he was sure none of them guessed how inadequate he was for

the task. Mikhail realized he must risk it, that he must be cunning as he had never been

in his life.
Laran
was all very well and good, but this needed something more—like a

hundred mounted men attacking the keep. He laughed at himself a little.

"That room beyond—I can sense yellowstone in it. How is it contained?"

Mikhail found Davil looking at him with interest. "There are screens in it, holding the

stone in place, but it still leaks, and we have lost several people from the poison of it.

No one, not even the woman," he said gesturing toward Amirya, "can enter it without

hazard, and we all feared the day when it will exceed the power of the screens to hold

it safely."

"So you worked from this room to draw the stuff from the earth?"

"Exactly."

Marguerida, will fire destroy . . . whatever it is?

Hardly. I suspect it must be low-grade uranium, which is a yellow ore, if I remember

correctly. I suppose we ought to be grateful it is not radioactive cobalt, which is even

nastier. I am stunned that anyone would think they could play with this stuff safely.

Yes. What about compressing it?

Bad idea. The only thought I can come up with is reinforcing the stasis field that

already surrounds it
—
and I have no clue as to how one might do that. I mean, when

they put Dio into stasis, Uncle Jeff tried to explain the process to me, but I confess I

did not really grasp the concept. Like so much about
laran,
there was a great deal I did

not understand.

I wish we could just send it back where it came from.

We should have thought about that before they started dismantling the screens.

Damn!

Marguerida had finished her work now, and looked rather pleased with herself. She

had a slight sheen on her brow, and her curls were damp against her pale skin. He

watched her sit down on a low bench close to the wall and draw her mitt back on,

apparently unaware of the uneasy glances she was getting from the people she had just

aided.

She went into the trance state he was now familiar with, her face empty of all

expression, her eyes hooded. What she saw when she entered this state of mind he

could only guess, but he trusted her to know what she was doing. And he felt himself

become calm as he watched her, his own roiling emotions flowing away.

After perhaps a minute she straightened her back, and the empty look vanished. Her

gaze was lucid and golden.
It's about time!

It's about time you figured out the answer?

No. Time is the answer.

I don't understand
—
if time is the answer, what is the question?

Sorry, Mik. I don't mean to be obscure, but this is very hard to explain. I don't have the

vocabulary, and neither do you. All I can say is that we have to think of a way to

remove that yellowstone from this present
—
and where or when it will go I cannot

think.

You are not making a whole lot of sense,
caria.

I
know. It is something to do with the nature of my shadow matrix. In a sense, this

pattern is neither here nor there. I mean, it is part of the overworld and part of the

material world at the same time. And Varzil said time is something I can. . . .

manipulate. I wish I had been able to manipulate more time with him! But if his words

mean anything, and they must, then my peculiar ability is to be able to fiddle with time.

That's a big assumption,
caria.

Yes, it is, and I would not be making it, if I had not done the healings I have.

Now I am really lost
—
what does the healing have to do with time.

Everything! Damn, this is difficult! It is not just clearing

channels
—
that is the mechanical part. The real healing comes from the memory of

wellness, for getting the body back into a time when it was fit.

Mikhail weighed this idea. He remembered how Marguerida had helped him through

the matrix shock, and realized that it was almost exactly as she had just said. He just

could not see how this had anything to do with the problem of disposing of the filthy

stuff in the adjoining chamber.

"Is there, nearby, a Forbidden Place?" Looks of incomprehension met Marguerida's

question for a moment. Then Davil nodded slowly.

"To the west, about ten miles, I would guess, there is an old glow, where one dares not

go. It is a small one, and there are things growing around the edges of it that are very

strange."

"Ten miles." Marguerida looked very thoughtful. Then she shook her head. I
wish I

had been able to pay better attention to my matrix mechanics class at Arilinn. Or that I

was telekinetic
—
not that I want more
laran,
but it would be useful.

Mikhail watched her, admiring her steadiness. The room grew very quiet, as if the

leroni
knew that something was going on that demanded silence. He waited for her to

continue.

Suddenly he felt as if someone had grabbed the back of his neck and thrust his head

downward. Mikhail stared at the ring glittering on his finger. It danced before his eyes,

shifting and changing, the facets shrinking and growing. At one moment, his own

smaller matrix was a shadow within the greater one, and then they seemed to change

places, and Varzil's was the nearly invisible portion. The effect was dazzing, and his

mind quailed. He seemed to lose all sense of himself, of the present, and was lost in the

contemplation of the object.

What did he know about Varzil's stone? Mikhail racked his brains. He knew it had

been used by a great empath to heal Lake Hali. Those two elements seemed critical,