He hit the crowd like a thunderbolt, cutting through them with a strength and speed that even his old Boost could never have given him. They had every kind of weapon, and no thought in their heads but to kill, but he was the Deathstalker returned, and they never stood a chance. He cut them down like ripe corn, blood and offal falling to splash the street, and they never even came close to touching him. In the end, Owen stood alone in the street, surrounded by the piled up bodies of the dead and the dying. He bent over and looked down into a pair of fading eyes, searching for the controlling mind behind them.
"I'm back," he said. "And this time there will be no unfinished business."
He put away his sword, turned his back on the massacre, and strode off into the descending night. He was almost ready to do what he had to do. He'd really come back to the Parade of the Endless only to make his good-byes, and it didn't seem there was much left he remembered to say good-bye to. Still, the last time he'd disappeared back into the past, he'd thought his life was over. That he'd done all he was supposed to do. That whatever happened, at least he'd be able to rest, at last. He'd been very tired, then. Now, he felt more alive than he ever had.
Hazel, I lost you once. I won't lose you again. I'm tempted to stay here, to help Lewis kick out Finn and his people, but you're more important. I have to go back, as far as it takes, even though what I may eventually have to do scares me. But I promised you we'd be together again. And we will, one way or another.
And so he turned his thoughts inward, concentrated his mind in a certain way, and let go of his hold on the present. He fell backward, into time, beyond the Pale Horizon, into the days that were. He dropped back through history, like a stone plunging through water, traveling faster and faster.
Days and nights flickered and were gone, until the planets and the stars whirled around him, becoming a flashing rainbow of colors. Guided by instinct, following a kind of trail only one such as he could even have perceived, Owen pursued Hazel back through history. Eventually the trail he followed was interrupted, and Owen slowed until the stars and their planets resumed their usual imperceptible dance against the dark. The universe came back into focus, the galaxy was still, and Owen Deathstalker hung alone in the long night, looking down at the planets turning slowly below him.
He knew, without having to be told, that this was Heartworld, which would one day be named Golgotha, and then Logres. Heartworld—hub of the legendary, fallen, First Empire.
On board the starcruiser Havoc, flagship of the fleet the Emperor Finn had sent to crush the rebellion on Haden, Brett Random was already making trouble. He hadn't wanted to come aboard in the first place. The thought of being trapped on an Imperial ship had scared the hell out of him, not least because there were any amount of warrants still floating about with various of his names on them, from the days before he became a hero of the Rebellion. It was all very well everyone saying they were all on the same side now, but Brett hadn't got where he was by trusting people. So, first he volunteered to stay behind on Haden and look after the Hereward. Lewis shot that one down immediately. He didn't want Brett (and quite probably Rose) running around where he couldn't keep a watchful eye on them. Brett had protested loudly, and it had done no good at all.
Then Brett got up Silence's nose by demanding officers' quarters on the Havoc for himself and Rose, plus room service and full access to the ship's dispensary. He was still coming up with new conditions when Shub teleported the whole lot of them en masse onto the Havoc's bridge, and Brett made it very clear that teleporting didn't agree with him by puking all over the command deck. Captain Price welcomed his new allies on board, carefully not looking at what Brett was doing, and crewmen arrived to take everyone to their assigned quarters. Rose picked up Brett and carried him away, still feebly cursing and complaining.
Price willingly gave up his command chair to Admiral Silence, and stood at his side as Silence lowered himself carefully into the hot seat. It had been a long time since he'd commanded a ship, let alone a fleet. And he still wasn't keen on accepting the unearned title of admiral, but everyone else had insisted. Apparently, they were even making a new uniform for him. Probably something garish, knowing the current fashion. But, the Imperial navy was still very big on the chain of command, and if they were going to take orders from the Deathstalker, they would much rather it came through one of their own. Besides, as Price diffidently pointed out, there was a vacancy. (Price didn't explain that this was because he'd shot the previous admiral in the head, for being one of Finn's creatures, and a complete bloody psychopath. Some things should be kept inside the family, so to speak.) And anyway, Owen wanted it, and he was the Deathstalker, so that was that.
The other Deathstalker was just glad to be out of the very cramped cabins of the Hereward. Lewis and Jesamine were currently occupying very luxurious guest quarters, with all the comforts of home and then some. Jesamine had run around the room touching things, bounced on the bed a few times, and then squealed with joy as she spotted the complimentary beauty tech provided. She had immediately parked herself in front of the biggest mirror, and set about undoing all the damage done to her famous beauty from "absolutely ages of roughing it."
"If I'm going to lead a rebellion and inspire the masses to follow me, I really must look my best, darling," she said firmly.
There were many things Lewis felt like saying to that, but fortunately he had enough sense to say none of them. Instead, he stripped off all his clothes, dropped them in a very smelly pile in one corner, and then stretched out on the sinfully comfortable king-sized bed, sighing deeply as his stressed and abused muscles were finally able to relax. It had been a long time since he could relax. He thought wistfully about indulging himself in a long, hot bath, as soon as he could work up the strength of will to leave this marvelously supportive bed.
(He wasn't thinking about his dead Family. About his dead father and mother. He wasn't thinking about them at all.)
In front of the mirror, Jesamine finally got her face looking the way she thought it should, glared at the mess her hair was in, and then pulled apart the tattered front of her dress so she could critically inspect the breast that had been regrown in the regeneration tank, after the treacherous reptiloid Saturday had ripped the original off. She looked from one breast to the other and back again, frowning.
"You know, I really don't think they match, sweetie. Of course, they never were exactly the same in the first place, breasts never are, but even so…"
"They're fine," said Lewis.
"You're not even looking!"
Lewis sighed, sat up in bed, and studied Jesamine's breasts in the mirror. "They are fine, Jes. They're great. They're wonderful! They are exactly the breasts I remember, and I think you'll agree, I have paid them a lot of attention in the past. I would know if they were different. Breasts…" he said thoughtfully. "Breasts, breasts, breasts… I like breasts. I even like just saying the word."
Jesamine turned around and smiled at him dazzlingly. "Darling. Do we have time…"
Lewis grinned back at her. "We'll make time."
(Afterwards, she held him close while he cried, remembering his lost Family.)
Some time later, they sat up together in bed, snuggled together and companionably naked, eating the very best food the Havoc's gourmet food synthesizers could produce. After far too long with nothing on the menu but protein cubes and distilled water on the Hereward, their taste buds practically exploded with pleasure, and they had double portions of everything. New clothes lay waiting at the foot of the bed, and all was well. Jesamine snuggled up against Lewis.
"Lewis…"
"You want something," Lewis said immediately. "You always use that tone of voice when you want me to do something for you."
"Oh, don't be such a grumpy old bear! I just thought, now that things have improved, and we're not running for our lives anymore—couldn't we please dump Brett and Rose now? I mean, it's not as if we actually need them anymore. You've got an entire Imperial flee
t at your command! I don't know why you insisted on them coming along with us."
"Because, my very dear, they've both been through the Madness Maze. They were dangerous enough before; God alone knows what they'll be capable of once their powers start developing. No, I want them right here, where I can step on them hard, if I have to. Besides, you never know when having your very own thief and psychopath around will come in handy."
"You know they'll betray us eventually," said Jesamine, resting her head on his shoulder. "If not to Finn, then to someone else. It's in their nature."
"Who knows what their nature is, anymore? They've been through the Maze, and that changes everything."
Jesamine shuddered briefly. "I know. That's what scares me."
Lewis hugged her tightly to him, and for a long time neither of them said anything.
In the very next cabin, Brett Random and Rose Constantine were also in bed together. Brett was slowly getting used to having sex with Rose, but the lying beside her afterwards still made him nervous. He never slept, even when she gave every indication of being fast alseep. He always half suspected that at any moment Rose might decide to stick a knife in his ribs, to combine her newfound passion for the flesh with her old delight in the act of murder. The things a man will put up with to get his ashes hauled, Brett thought reflectively. For the moment they were both awake, lying side by side, her seven-foot-tall frame somewhat dwarfing Brett's. As usual, he talked and she listened.
"I say, once we get to Mistport, we leg it," Brett said firmly. "Head for the nearest horizon, and then disappear over it. There's a war coming, and people get killed in wars. Particularly people like us. And a pair of smart operators like us could make a real killing on a rogue planet like Mistworld. The Deathstalker and his gung-ho chums won't miss us; they'll be far too busy playing heroes. And with a whole fleet to boss around, Lewis doesn't need us anymore anyway."
"I need them," Rose said calmly. "I am a killer, and so must go where the killing is. Sex is nice, Brett, but killing has always been my first love. I have changed, but not that much. So I go where the Deathstalker goes—with or without you. And… I feel the need to see how this war with Finn is going to play out. My own small battles seem… insignificant, compared to being a part of destiny. We are Maze people now, Brett. We must learn to think in bigger terms."
"It'll all end in tears," Brett said miserably. "Probably mine."
Lewis took a call from Admiral Silence, asking them to come to the bridge, and he and Jesamine quickly got dressed. Lewis was ready in a few moments, but Jesamine refused to be hurried. If we're going to be leaders of the rebellion, it's important we look the part, she insisted. We want them to take us seriously, don't we? Lewis went and busied himself unnecessarily in the adjoining bathroom. He didn't trust himself to stay quiet under such provocation. Eventually Jesamine announced she was ready, and Lewis reappeared. He had to admit, she did look stunning. He said so, and Jesamine beamed.
"I keep telling you, Lewis, I am always worth the wait. What do you suppose Silence wants?"
"Maybe he's heard something from Owen."
Jesamine pulled a face. "I really think you're going to have to let that one go, dear. I very much doubt we'll ever see him again." She paused, considering. "What do you suppose will happen, when Owen finally finds Hazel?"
Lewis shrugged. "You heard the strange person. Journeys end in lovers' meetings. And they do say love conquers all."
"Only in very bad opera scripts, darling."
They left their cabin and joined up with Brett and Rose—who'd also got the call—in the corridor. They all nodded politely to each other, and headed for the bridge. Lewis gave Brett a sideways look.
"So, looking forward to Mistworld, Brett?"
"What? Oh, yes, of course. Absolutely. It's my spiritual homeworld, really. A whole planet full of thieves and villains and people just like me."
"And I am looking forward to the war," said Rose. "Where's the fun of killing in ones and twos, when you can take on a whole army and just kill and kill and kill?… An orgy of death. I can't wait."
Lewis had to smile at Brett's expression. "Don't look at me, Brett. She's your girlfriend."
"I feel a cringe coming on," said Jesamine. "Excuse me while I shudder."
Brett looked at Rose despairingly. "Can't take you anywhere, can I? The sooner we get to Mistworld, the better. You know, there are supposed to be more of Random's Bastards in Mistport alone than in the whole of the Rookery. My extended family, so to speak. My exalted ancestor really did put it about, if you believe all the claims—which mostly I don't, as a matter of principle."
They got to the bridge to discover Admiral Silence arguing with the Havoc's new onboard AI. Apparently Shub had transferred the AI Ozymandias from the Hereward to the Havoc, where it had displaced the original AI. Silence was having difficulties coping with Oz's relentlessly cheery personality.
"Look, just plot a course to Mistworld!"
"Oh, poo, where's the fun in that? There's a really terrific meteor shower only a few light-years away. You really should see it; it's very educational. I mean, what's Mistworld got, anyway? Snow and ice and fog and wall to wall scumbags. I say we go via the pretty route. You'll thank me for it later."
"Oz," said Lewis in a very firm voice.
"Hi there! How do you like my new ship, Lewis? It fits much better than the last one. I've finally got room to breathe."
"Follow the admiral's orders exactly, Oz. He speaks with my voice."
"Oh, all right. Humans just don't know how to have fun."
Silence looked at Lewis. "You survived being trapped on a ship with that, for months on end? People have been awarded medals for less."
"You get used to him," said Lewis. "It doesn't help much, but you do get used to him. What's up, Admiral?"
Silence sniffed, and settled back in his command chair. "I just thought you ought to be here, Deathstalker. We're about to break orbit, and head for Mistworld. And according to this extremely irritating AI of yours, Shub wants to say good-bye, before we leave."
He gestured to his comm officer, and the bridge viewscreen activated, showing the blue steel face of a Shub robot.
"All right," said Lewis. "Why did you wish Ozymandias on us?"
"Because you belong together, Deathstalker," said the robot. "And because this way, we can maintain contact with you, through him. We will not be coming with you. Our ships will stay behind, to guard Haden and the Madness Maze from Finn's attack in your absence."
"I thought you said you'd sworn an oath never to kill," said Jesamine.
"We have," said the AIs of Shub. "We will never take a life again. All that lives is holy. But Finn and his people don't know that. They will hesitate to attack our ships, which we will place between his ships and Haden. And even if they do figure it out, eventually, we will use our ships as a shield for as long as possible, to buy you time. We will protect the Madness Maze, whatever it takes."
"If Finn figures out you're not going to shoot back, he might attack your homeworld directly," said Silence.
"Let him come," said the robot. "We are Shub, and we will not fall easily."
The screen went blank, and not long after that the Havoc led the rest of the fleet into hyperspace, heading for Mistworld. The huge Shub ships remained in orbit, watching the others go. The AIs hadn't mentioned that in their opinion, the best way for Shub to protect Haden was for them to pass through the Madness Maze, and transcend. They did consider telling the Deathstalker, but in the end they chose not to.
It would only have upset him.
CHAPTER TWO
*
ARMIES AND FORCES,
GATHERING STRENGTH
The Emperor Finn had invited Joseph Wallace to join him for dinner, so of course Joseph Wallace went; but he wasn't at all happy about it. Not least because invited wasn't really the right word. It was much more like commanded, with distinct overtones of or else. Joseph spent a long and anxious time wondering what he
could have done to be singled out for such an honor. People rarely got to see Finn socially these days, and of those who did, it had been noted that a significant number tended not to come back. No one ever asked what happened to the bodies. It wasn't wise, or healthy. But one couldn't say no when the Emperor said yes, and there wasn't any point in running, so Joseph sucked it in, put on his best bib and tucker, made sure all his affairs were in order and that his will was up-to-date, and went to the palace.
The court and the Imperial Palace weren't what they used to be. There was an air of doom and decay and even purposeful neglect to the place of late, and Joseph's skin prickled and crawled as he walked the darkened corridors. Most of the lights weren't working, and some had been openly smashed. There were guards everywhere, standing stiffly to attention at every other door and break in the corridors, all of them Church Militant fanatics in full body armor. They wore swords and guns, and watched Joseph pass with hot, suspicious eyes. As the official head of the Church Militant and Pure Humanity, Joseph shouldn't have had anything to worry about, but he knew better than to try his limited authority here. These were Finn's creatures, loyal in body and soul, sworn to live and die in his service. He was their father, their only love, their adored god.
Even so, there were still security cameras and all kinds of sensors tucked away in every nook and cranny, watching the guards as well as the corridors they guarded.
Things grew worse the farther in Joseph went, and his breathing grew fast and shallow as he followed the familiar path to the dark heart of the new court. There were severed heads nailed over doorways, stinking of cheap preservatives. Joseph thought he recognized a few of the faces. Once he passed a row of hanged men, with blackened faces and protruding tongues, the nooses sunk deeply into the stretched necks. The last one was still swaying slightly. Unexplained bloodstains smeared the floor and walls, as though some monstrous dog had been marking its territory. And sometimes there were screams, and other disturbing sounds. All symbols of the Emperor's power and authority, and perhaps his state of mind.