He shut down his presence and was suddenly just a man again, standing in front of a viewscreen. He nodded amiably to Captain Price.
"John Silence will be your admiral. He shall lead the fleet, under Lewis Deathstalker. I trust this is acceptable."
"Of course, Lord Deathstalker," said Price, inclining his head in Silence's direction. "Everyone remembers John Silence, and his heroic journeyings aboard the Dauntless.
Welcome back among us. Admiral Silence. And Lewis Deathstalker is still an honorable man to everyone here, despite what others may have said."
"There's a man who can tell which way the wind is blowing," muttered Brett. "Think I'll keep an eye on him."
Owen gestured sharply to the robots, and they shut the viewscreen down. He then wandered off a way, to think and brood in silence, and no one at all felt like interrupting him. After watching him respectfully for a while, the others gathered together to talk quietly among themselves. Lewis looked apologetically at Silence.
"You're the only one here with any real military experience. Not to mention being a living legend. You should be giving the fleet its orders, not me."
"No," said Silence. "It has to be a Deathstalker. That name will command obedience, where even my legend would not. I can live with just being an admiral. And besides, I always worked better when I had clear instructions to follow. So, Sir Deathstalker, where do we go first?"
"I still say Mistworld," Brett piped up immediately. "If anyone's going to supply us with a rebel army, it's them. I mean, Imperial ships are all very well, but when it comes to down and dirty street fighting, no one does it like the Mistworlders. They've been practicing it enthusiastically on each other for generations. And they have a long tradition of conflict with the Empire. Even when they were supposed to be in it."
"More so now than ever," said Silence. "I picked up some more bad news, on my way here. The Paragon Emma Steel is dead, and the whole of Mistworld is hopping mad about it. Officially, she was executed as a traitor, but since there was no public trial and execution, no one believes that. Finn is a great one for showing off the trials and deaths of his enemies. Emma Steel was much respected; even a few months ago there would have been riots in the streets in her name, but Finn's cracked down so hard now that no one dares."
"Emma's dead?" said Lewis. "Another good friend gone. Finn must have had her shot in the back. No other way he could have taken her down. She was always so alive…" He sighed heavily, and this time let Jesamine put an arm around him. "She was the last honest Paragon on Logres. God help the people now."
"Mistworld shares your opinion," said Silence. "They've called Finn a liar to his face, and declared themselves a rogue world again, outside of Empire control, and threatened to shoot down any ship that approaches without permission. They might just be able to pull it off too. They may not have their fabled esper screen anymore, but they're supposed to have all kinds of entirely illegal planetary defenses."
"The Emperor has already decided to test Mistworld's resistance," said the nearest robot. "According to comm traffic we intercepted, after dealing with the situation here, Captain Price was to take ten of his ships to Mistworld and attempt a scorching."
"The more things change, the more they stay the same," said Silence. "No doubt Price would have got around to telling us that. Eventually."
"Oh, yes," said Jesamine. "When enough snow had fallen to put out the boilers in Hell. I think we'd do well to keep a sharp eye on that man."
"I said that!" said Brett. "Look, we need an army, and Mistworld needs a way to strike back at Finn. We were made for each other. And where else are you going to find such an experienced force of throat-slitters, backstabbers, thugs and scum, and hardened criminals like the Mistworlders?"
"He may be an appalling little man, but he has a point," said Jesamine.
"Hey, what do you mean, little?"
"Mistworld should be only too happy to join up with us," said Jesamine, ignoring Brett with the skill of long practice. "Especially when we point out we've just saved them from a scorching."
"I really don't think we should mention that," said Silence. "We want them to be able to play nicely with the fleet personnel."
"They'll jump at the chance to take on Finn!" said Brett. "And we won't have to pay them after all!"
He'd come out from behind Rose Constantine now, and was looking much happier, if not a little cocky. There was nothing like the prospect of other people fighting so he didn't have to, to put him in a good mood. Besides, just get him to Mistport, and he'd disappear into the city's fabled fogs so fast it would make everyone else's head spin. No more living on the run and being hunted; no more death and danger. Let the others do the hard work; there was serious money waiting to be made in Mistport, for a man with an eye for the main chance.
"Get that glint out of your eye, Brett," said Lewis. "Wherever we end up going, you are staying where I can keep an eye on you."
"I don't know what you mean," Brett said innocently. "It just seems to me that I am now surplus to requirements. What need has your great rebellion for a reformed thief and confidence trickster, now that you've got the blessed Owen himself to lead you?"
He shut up in a moment as Owen turned suddenly and looked right at him. "No," said the Deathstalker. "I won't be going with you. This is your war to fight. I have something more important to do."
"Everything else can wait!" Lewis said angrily. "We have to bring down Finn Durandal before he destroys the whole Empire!"
"I have to stop the Terror," Owen said calmly. "Because no one else can. I'm going back in time, into the past, after Hazel. I'm going to follow her trail back, find out when and how and why she became the Terror, and see if I can stop it. Hazel d'Ark is my responsibility. She always was."
Lewis actually sputtered for a moment, lost for words. He was astonished and shocked and terribly disappointed that Owen wouldn't be leading the rebellion after all. He'd secretly wanted, needed, Owen to take charge so that he wouldn't have to. He'd never wanted, or felt easy with, the burdens of responsibility. He'd never even wanted to be Champion, and look how that turned out. Lewis felt almost sulkily let down, that after all he'd done and all he'd been through, he wasn't going to be allowed to rest. But of course he couldn't say any of that, so he just spluttered and waved his hands about, until Owen stepped forward and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"I know, Lewis. I never wanted to be in charge either. I never even wanted to be a warrior, but events had their way with me anyway. You don't need me, Lewis; you're a Deathstalker. Just listen to your heart and your honor, and you'll be surprised how far that takes you. You'll do fine. My destiny lies in the past. The Madness Maze engineered my return, with your help, for a specific purpose. It could have found a way to bring me back long before now, if it had wanted, but I wasn't needed until now."
"Hold everything," said Lewis. "Are you saying everything we've been through is down to the Maze manipulating events?"
"More likely the Maze responded to events, to get what it wanted," said Owen. "It's always known about the Terror. It probably even knew who and what the Terror was, but couldn't tell me until now."
"Is the Maze… alive?" said Jesamine.
"That's a good question," said Owen. "I hope to find out the answer someday."
And then everyone turned sharply to look at Brett Random, who had suddenly started shaking and shuddering as though he'd just put his hand on a live wire. His whole body shook in the grasp of an invisible force. His eyes were very large and his teeth were chattering. Everyone backed away from him except Rose, who grabbed hold of him to steady him, and then seemed to catch some of the condition herself. Her head snapped back, her eyes went wide, and then she let go of Brett and stood back. Her stance changed, in subtle but unmistakable ways. Brett abruptly stopped shuddering and started speaking in tongues, gabbling first nonsense and then a strange mixture of obscure dialects and dead languages. Rose's head swiveled slowly back and forth, her teeth g
rating together. By now everyone else had their guns out. They knew the signs of possession. Brett let out a great sigh, relaxed all over, and turned to look at Lewis. And someone else looked out of Brett's eyes.
"Hello there," he said in a voice that was nothing like his own. "I speak for the oversoul, through Brett Random. He is an esper, after all, even if he's not much of one, and we all drink from the same pool. We're linked into Rose Constantine too, through Brett, and you've no idea how unpleasant that is. Welcome back, Owen, Lord Deathstalker. Don't know if you remember me; this is Crow Jane. We did meet briefly, back in the day… No? Well, never mind, I'm sure you met a lot more important people than me. Now, we need to talk. We—"
And the voice snapped off abruptly, as Brett forced his mouth shut. He reached out a hand to Rose, and her hand came up jerkily to clasp on to it. Their faces contorted with a shared effort.
"Get out of my head!" said Brett. "Get out!"
There was a perceptible change in the tension on the air, and then Brett's and Rose's faces suddenly looked like their own again. They both let out great sighs of relief, and clung to each other for support. Sweat trickled down their faces from the effort of what they'd done. Lewis didn't lower his gun. Something was coming. He could feel it. There was a shimmering on the air, as of something far away coming into focus, and then images of the esper Crow Jane and the Ecstatic called Joy appeared suddenly out of nowhere.
Crow Jane was a strapping brunette in a long, wine red coat, with a bandolier of throwing stars stretched across her impressive chest. Everyone recognized Joy, the last of the Ecstatics—religious extremists who'd had their brains surgically altered so that they existed in a perpetual state of orgasm. Ecstatics were famous for their expanded consciousness, prophetic statements, and extremely disturbing smiles. Joy was the last of the Ecstatics because Finn had had all the others hunted down and killed. Quite possibly because he didn't like the idea of anyone knowing more than he did. Joy wore a simple white tunic—badly—and his gaze looked slightly out of focus. Crow Jane looked disgustedly at Brett and Rose.
"This would have been so much simpler if you'd just let us speak through you. Would it have killed you to be cooperative, for once in your nasty little lives? Do you have any idea how much effort and power it's taking out of New Hope to send our mental images this far?"
"Oh, pardon me while I weep bitter tears!" said Brett. "I already told you once, I want nothing to do with the oversoul! I am not the joining type. And stay out of our heads! You're no better than the ELFs!"
"You always did overreact, Brett." Crow Jane looked at him and Rose thoughtfully. "You've changed, both of you. Your minds are… bigger, more complex. Still pretty unpleasant, though. I feel like I need to take a bath in liquid soap."
"We've both been through the Madness Maze," Brett said pointedly. "You just watch yourself, oversoul."
"Oh, we will, Brett," Crow Jane said kindly. "We must have a nice little chat later."
"Do lunch!" Joy said suddenly, and everyone jumped. "But I get to choose the menu. Fish, eh? Bastards!"
"What is he doing here?" Brett said plaintively. "Isn't the situation complicated enough as it is without bringing a bloody Ecstatic into it?"
"Weasels," Joy explained.
There followed a long and rather confused conversation as people took it in turns to try to explain to Owen what an Ecstatic was, and why, and then why anyone had ever thought they were a good idea in the first place. Joy's attempts at explaining were particularly unhelpful. Silence finally finished it off by growling Because people are weird, and Owen accepted that.
"So, the espers are now the oversoul, except for the bad ones, who are ELFs," Owen said, some time later. "I can't help thinking things were so much simpler in my day. All right, Crow Jane and Joy, what are you doing here?"
"We felt your return, Lord Deathstalker," said Crow Jane. "Like a great voice, crying out in the night. You shine too brightly to look at; that's why we originally chose to contact you through those two inferior minds."
Brett made a rude noise. Everyone ignored him.
"You must come to Mistworld," said Crow Jane, now looking at Lewis Deathstalker. "The esper city of New Hope is currently in orbit above Mistworld, and the oversoul wishes to offer its assistance in the war against Finn. We could not face him and his armies alone, but we would make formidable allies."
"Mistworld is looking more and more like our best option," said Lewis. "A solidly defended base for a gathering of allies. Just like the old days, eh, Owen?"
"You won't be there," Joy announced suddenly, walking in circles around the bemused Owen. "I see the past and the future, often more clearly than I see the present, but then, it's a poor memory that won't work both ways. I see you, Owen, plunging back into the past, into worlds and Empires long forgotten. And then you're somewhere else, somewhere outside or inside the universe, and I can't follow you there. You have a long journey ahead of you, Deathstalker."
"Can you tell me how it ends?" said Owen.
"Journeys end in lovers' meetings. And then you both wake up, and it was all a dream. Or something like that. Has anyone got any chocolate?"
They all waited a while, but he had nothing else to say. He just wandered over to one of the robots and tried to unscrew one of its legs. Crow Jane looked back at Owen.
"Are all the dead coming back, Lord Deathstalker? Will all the legends be returning, to help us in our hour of greatest need?"
"I doubt it," Owen said kindly. "Dead is dead. I'm only here through a technicality, because no one else can stop the Terror. This is your war. You have to win it for yourselves, or the victory will mean nothing. This is your time. The past… belongs in the past."
"Yes," said Joy, giving up on the robot's leg. "That's it exactly. Has everyone got their coat?"
He and Crow Jane disappeared, and everyone felt a little more at ease. Owen turned to Lewis to make his goodbyes, and then stopped as he suddenly noticed the black gold ring on Lewis's finger. He held out his own hand to show the ring he wore, and the two men held their hands side by side to compare the two rings. They were, of course, identical. Everyone looked on, quietly awed. The black gold ring was famous, as much a part of history and legend as the man who'd worn it.
"The Family ring," Lewis said softly. "Sign and symbol of Deathstalker Clan authority."
"And there has only ever been one such ring," Owen said. "That's the point."
"But it's the same ring," said Jesamine. "You only have to look at it to see that. How is this possible?"
Owen looked at Lewis, who shrugged uncomfortably. "A gray-clad leper called Vaughn gave me the ring," said Lewis. "He said it came from you. Except I'm pretty sure it wasn't really Vaughn, on the grounds that he's been dead for years…"
"I smell the interference of a certain shape-changing alien," said Owen. "But there's no way he could get the ring, unless I chose to give it to him. So perhaps I will, at some time in my future and your past. Time's a funny thing, with a distinct preference for circles."
Brett rubbed hard at his aching forehead. "Can we please go to Mistworld? It's only full of terrible things like crime and intrigue and thuggery; things I can understand."
"Shut up, Brett," said Jesamine, not unkindly.
"Are you sure you really want to do this?" Lewis said to Owen. "Time travel, going back who knows how far into the past, just so you can go head-to-head with the Terror, alone? Couldn't you take some of us with you?"
"No," said Owen. "I wish I could. The whole business scares the spit out of me. But you're all needed here, just as I'm needed there. I have to be going now, before I start coming up with some really good reasons to put it off. So much to do, so much time to search through to do it in. I'm sorry we couldn't find the time to get to know each other better, Lewis. Do your best, and try not to worry so much. You'll do fine. You're a Deathstalker."
"You can't go," said Lewis. "I only just found you…"
"We've been waiting so long for you t
o come back, Owen," said Jesamine. "All Humanity is waiting to welcome you back. You have always been our greatest hero…
Everything we did, we did for you. We built a Golden Age, just to be worthy of you."
"Stick around," said Brett. "Give the worlds a chance to get to know the real Owen."
"No," said Owen, grinning suddenly. "I'd only be a disappointment."
And just like that, he was gone.
Owen had been feeling much stronger since he'd come back from the dead. Power seethed within him, demanding to be used. He didn't need the help of the Madness Maze— or more properly, the baby at its core—to travel through time and space. There's nothing like dying and being reborn to open your eyes to new possibilities. The shape-changing alien who served the Maze had once told Owen that all his powers came from a single base: the ability to change reality through an effort of will. Owen wasn't entirely sure he believed that, but there was no denying he felt almost giddy with power and possibilities. He started with teleportation. Jumping from one planet to another, just by thinking about it. He didn't need to search within himself for the power; it was as though he'd always known how. It was just a matter of letting go of time and space in one location, and stepping back on again somewhere else. And so in no time at all, Owen Deathstalker was back on Logres, in the city known as the Parade of the Endless, for the first time in two centuries.
Owen had picked Lewis's mind for the exact location of his destination before he left, and he materialized exactly where he needed to be: deep beneath the city, at the entrance to the Dust Plains of Memory. In Owen's time the planet had been called Golgotha, and this had been the central computer Matrix. Standing alone at the gates to this gray mystery, Owen wondered if things had really changed much at all. The Dust Plains were staggering in their size and complexity, but he'd felt much the same about the computer Matrix.