Lewis cried out, and ran forward. He cut at the animals with his sword, but they didn't feel it. He kicked and hit them, but they didn't know he was there. Owen was sitting in the blood-soaked snow now, his chin resting on his chest, the last of his blood running out of his mouth along with the last of his breath. Someone stole his sword and ran off with it. Lewis fell to his knees, crying angry helpless tears. And on his knees, in snow he couldn't feel, he watched Owen Deathstalker die. After he was dead, they stole his boots.
Lewis cried hot, heavy tears. His sword hung uselessly in his hand. "It's all been for nothing," he said finally. "All of it. He really did die here."
"Yes, he did," said Roland. "But the story isn't over yet. Keep watching."
Time speeded up, in that squalid little dead-end square. The animals stripped Owen of everything worth stealing, and then they disappeared back into the night. The mists eddied this way and that. Owen lay dead in the bloody snow, his noble body gashed and punctured in many places, and soaked in his own gore. And that was how the organleggers found him. In Mistport there was always a thriving business in spare parts for transplant surgery, in those long ago days. Body banks were of course illegal, but then so were a great many other everyday activities in Mistport. The body snatchers took Owen's body away, and Lewis and Roland followed them, unobserved.
The organleggers' warehouse wasn't far. They took Owen's body inside, locking the door carefully behind them. Lewis and Roland ghosted easily through the locked door, and watched as Owen's body was dumped into a refrigerated tank, to preserve it. Within a few hours, automated blades and saws would render the body down into its component parts, ready for marketing. The body snatchers laughed together, and walked away. Lewis and Roland watched them go. Lewis felt drained, worn out.
"And still the story isn't over," said Roland. "When those two gentlemen return, they'll find Owen's body gone. No trace of it will ever turn up anywhere, and no one will ever know what happened to it. It becomes just another of Mistworld's little mysteries. Well, the answer is: you happened. Or at least, you will. Time travel can play merry hell with your tenses."
The scene disappeared, and Lewis and Roland were back in the heart of the Madness Maze again. Lewis wiped at his face with his sleeve. Roland smiled at him.
"You're going back in time, Lewis, courtesy of the Maze and the baby. To put right an old wrong. You're going to bring Owen back to life, rescue him from the body bank, and then you and he will be brought back here."
"Just like that?" said Lewis. "The man is dead! They cut him to pieces! Even a regeneration tank couldn't save him now."
"Owen's been through the Maze. He's really very hard to kill. All he needs is a nudge from the Maze, and you."
Lewis thought about it. "You can send me back, in person this time? Back two hundred years?"
"Time is just another dimension," said Roland. "Just another direction to move in. With enough power behind you, you can go anywhere and anywhen."
"And I'll be able to save him? To… bring him back to life?"
"Never underestimate the power of the Madness Maze, boy. I didn't build it to human specifications, so it doesn't have human limitations. We'll send you back to Mistport, past the Pale Horizon, and you'll appear there just as Owen breathes his last. And then you'll do what you have to do, because the Maze has already changed you, even if you haven't realized it yet. You will collect Owen's consciousness, or his soul if you prefer, at the moment of his death, and hold it safe within you. Only a Maze-altered Deathstalker could do this. You then go to the warehouse, reunite the soul with its body, and it will repair itself. And Owen Deathstalker will live again. When you're done, the Maze will bring you back here again. I won't be here; my part in this is over. Which is just as well, as the whole business freaks me out." Roland smiled suddenly at Lewis. "Say your good-byes now, Lewis. Because you won't be able to later."
"All right," said Lewis. "Good-bye."
"Good-bye, son." Roland took Lewis in his arms and hugged him briefly. "Never doubt that your father was always very proud of you."
He disappeared, leaving Lewis with empty arms and the puzzled feeling that the alien had been trying to tell him something. Then the light at the heart of the Maze changed suddenly, Lewis felt the world shift under him, and he saw a whole new direction he could travel in. He let go of the present, and fell back into time.
The universe blurred around him, all the colors at once, like running through a rainbow. The colors were vivid, overwhelming, intense almost beyond bearing. Lewis could hear a million voices all speaking at once, and he burst out of the rainbow into the deep dark sea of space. Planets whirled around him, and he saw the stars turn slowly in their endless dance, sparks of hope in the long night. Lewis supposed he should be feeling scared, or awed, but he was too busy concentrating on where he was going. He was going to save Owen Deathstalker.
Lewis materialized in a Mistport back alley. The cold hit him like a fist, as all his sensations returned to him. He leaned against a nearby wall to steady himself, breathing hard as though he'd just run a long race. And then he heard the baying of the animals as they took Owen down, and Lewis forced himself away from the wall. He lurched unsteadily through mist-choked alleys, following the sounds of battle, and got there just in time to see Owen die again. Lewis hid in the shadows, and reached out with his mind, almost instinctively. One Deathstalker, calling to another. And Owen heard him.
Hazel?
No, Owen. But I'm family.
He gathered Owen's fading mind to him, held it safe while the body died, and then jumped a little forward, in space and time. In a moment he was back in the gloomy warehouse of the body banks. The place was deserted, the only light radiating from the ranks of refrigerated tanks. Lewis walked over to one particular body bank, swept a layer of frost from the transparent lid with his hand, and looked inside. Owen's dead body stared sightlessly back at him, the death wounds still livid. The automated knives and saws hadn't started their work yet. And somehow it was the easiest thing in the world for Lewis to take the soul that had been entrusted to him, and tenderly put it back where it belonged.
A blast of light filled the tank, and Lewis staggered back, temporarily dazzled. He heard a door slam open behind him, and spun round, blinking his eyes furiously to clear them. Two armed guards came rushing towards him, determined to protect their merchandise. Lewis smiled savagely, and went to meet them sword in hand. He killed them both, cutting them to pieces with cold, vicious skill. Because he hadn't been able to punish the animals who killed Owen, and someone had to pay. The fight was quickly over, and Lewis turned his back on the twitching bodies to look at the refrigerated tank again. A fierce light was blazing up through the transparent lid. The steel sides burst apart, and the lid blew up into the air. And Owen Deathstalker rose up out of the ruins of the body bank like some ancient King rising from his tomb.
He stepped regally out of the wreckage, shaking off the last of the frost from his bare skin, disregarding it like the cold of death he'd just escaped. He stood tall and proud, breathing deeply, every bit as impressive as Lewis had always known he would be. There werent even any scars on Owen's body to show where the dozens of wounds had been. He turned his dark gaze on Lewis, who immediately sank to one knee and bowed his head to his revered ancestor.
"Welcome back, Lord Deathstalker. I am your kinsman, Lewis, of Virimonde. And I have come a very long way, to bring you back."
"Good for you," said Owen. "Now please get up. I've never liked being knelt to, especially by a kinsman. I don't suppose you brought any spare clothes with you, did you, Lewis? I'm freezing my nuts off, here."
Lewis blinked a few times, and then scrambled to his feet. He took a heavy cloak from one of the dead guards, and wrapped it round Owen's shoulders.
"Thank you," said Owen. "Now, I think you have a lot to tell me, kinsman. Starting very definitely with why I'm not dead after all."
"It was the Maze," said Lewis. "It sent me back thro
ugh time, with the power to rescue and restore you."
"I should bloody well think so too," said Owen. "It was the Maze that got me into this mess in the first place, when it stranded me here. You didn't happen to encounter a certain shape-changing alien along the way, did you… Yes, I thought so. This has his fingerprints all over it." He stopped, and studied Lewis thoughtfully. "Can't say I recognize you, Lewis. Are you kin to David? Never really got to know his branch of the Family."
"No… Sir Owen." Lewis hesitated, and then decided to just go with the truth, because he really didn't feel up to breaking it slowly and gently. "David is dead, long dead, and all his line with him. A lot of time has passed since your… death, Sir Owen. King Robert and Queen Constance raised a cousin branch to take over as Clan Deathstalker, and my father Roland is its current head."
"Just call me Owen, please. How much time has passed, since my battle with the Recreated?"
Lewis met Owen's gaze squarely. "It's been two hundred years, Owen. I am the first to have reached the heart of the Madness Maze in two centuries."
Owen didn't flinch, but his lips formed the name Hazel… "Why did the Maze send you back for me, after so long?"
"Because you're needed."
Owen smiled sourly. "That always was the problem. But how can I be needed, after so long? Lionstone's dead, Shub had a revelation, and I defeated the Recreated. What's left?"
"The Terror," said Lewis. "The Terror has come to the Empire, and threatens the existence of Humanity. We've already lost two planets to it."
"Oh, hell," Owen said tiredly. "It's always bloody something, isn't it? Look, can't you handle it? You're a Deathstalker. Why does it always have to be me? I died once for Humanity. I shouldn't have to do it again. I need a rest. Dying really takes it out of you, you know."
Lewis looked at Owen uncertainly, taken aback. This querulous, annoyed tone wasn't at all what he'd expected from the blessed Owen. He fumbled for a reply. Owen saw the look on Lewis's face, and chuckled suddenly.
"You've been listening to the stories about me, haven't you? Never believe what you see in the docudramas. If I did half the things I'm supposed to have done, I'd need to be twenty men. And I certainly never saw myself as any kind of hero. Just a man who knew his duty. The right man in the right place at the right time. If it hadn't been me, it would have been someone else… Oh, hell, let's get out of here. I'll do what I can. I always do. Two hundred years… Be interesting to see what you've done in my absence. Maze, I know you're listening. Bring us back. Now."
Power flared up around Owen and Lewis, and time poured past them. And then they were back, at the heart of the Madness Maze. There was no sign of Roland anywhere, or any of the alien's other shapes. Owen walked over and looked at the baby, still sleeping peacefully in the shining crystal.
"Looks like I'm not going to be allowed to ask any awkward questions of our shape-changing friend," said Owen. "Ah, well. I've no doubt there will be other occasions…" He looked sharply at Lewis. Who's waiting for me, out there?"
"Some new friends, and one old one."
Owen smiled suddenly. "Then we'd better not keep them waiting."
They walked out of the Maze together, side by side. The corridors still branched and turned, but the way out was always clear. As they neared the entrance, Lewis looked at Owen.
"I don't feel any different. I thought I would, once I'd been through the Maze."
"It's a slow process," said Owen. "Maybe because if it all happened at once, you'd go crazy trying to cope with it. Trust me, you'll start noticing things soon enough."
Lewis and Owen Deathstalker walked out of the Madness Maze, and everyone waiting for them, including John Silence and the Shub robot, sank to one knee and bowed their heads respectfully. Owen sighed heavily.
"Is this going to happen all the time now?" he said, just a little waspishly. "I never did go in for all that bowing and scraping stuff. Everybody up!"
They all got to their feet again. Most of them looked confused. Silence was smiling. The blue steel robot stepped forwards, and Owen looked at it with interest.
"I represent the AIs of Shub, Lord Deathstalker," said the robot. "No longer your enemy, now your most trustworthy servant. Welcome back, Owen. We have waited so long for this moment. We never stopped believing that someday you would return to us. We have dedicated our life to the service of Humanity, in your name. Ask anything of us."
"You can start with filling me in on what's happened while I was away," said Owen. His voice was courteous, but distinctly cool.
"In the past two hundred years, you have become a legend," said the robot. "And much has changed."
"Tell me," said Owen. "Tell me everything."
While Owen listened to the robot describe recent history, Lewis and Jesamine moved a little aside to hug each other tightly.
"What happened, Jes?" Lewis said finally. "You were right there with me when I went in…"
"The Maze separated us," said Jesamine. "Seems only Deathstalkers are allowed to know the secrets of the Maze, after all. So I'm expecting you to tell me everything later. Do you feel any different, Lewis? I don't feel any different."
"Apparently it sneaks up on you," said Lewis. "What do you make of Owen?"
"Well he certainly looks the part, darling, but he's going to have to brush up on his people skills."
Owen finally dismissed the robot, and turned to Silence. "Good to see one familiar face, Captain. The years seem to have treated you kindly. What happened to everyone else? What happened to Hazel?"
"Of all of those who went through the Maze, only you and I remain," said Silence. "Hazel is… missing, presumed dead. She disappeared after the last great battle against the Recreated, when she heard you were dead. No one's seen anything of her since."
Owen nodded slowly. "Was it worth it?" he said finally. "All we sacrificed? All the good people we lost? Did we buy anything worth having with the precious coin we paid?"
It seemed everyone heard that, and they all hurried to reassure Owen that there had indeed been a Golden Age, for well over a century. Until one good man went bad, and the Terror arrived.
"It's always something, isn't it?" said Owen. He smiled at Jesamine. "Don't look so impressed, lass. I put my trousers on one leg at a time, and leave the toilet seat up, just like everyone else." He looked at Lewis. "I trust someone is going to supply me with trousers at some point?"
"I played you, in the opera Deathstalker's Lament," Jesamine said abruptly. "And Hazel d'Ark too, of course."
"There are operas about me now?" Owen raised an eyebrow. Maybe I should look into the royalties situation, when I get back. Now, who are these other two people, and what is that?"
Lewis introduced Owen to Brett, Rose, and Saturday. Owen sniffed briefly. "So, a con man, a psycho, and a reptiloid. Ah, well, if I can get used to Ruby Journey, I suppose I can get used to anything."
"You knew my ancestors, Jack and Ruby," Brett said hesitantly. "Can you tell me… what were they really like?"
"Canny fighters," said Owen. "And good friends. I'm glad you're here, Brett. I'm sure you'll make your ancestors proud in the battles to come. Now, let's get out of here. Lead me to your ship, find me some clothes, and we'll start making plans. I'll bang the necessary heads together and put things back in order, because that's what I do, but afterwards… I'm going to find Hazel."
"Trust me, Owen, we looked," said Silence. "We looked everywhere."
"She isn't dead," said Owen. "I'd know if she was dead."
Shub found him some clothes, and then they went to the annex containing the twelve monstrous survivors. Owen stopped while their nature and situation were explained to him. Lewis added what he'd learned in the heart of the Maze. They'd expected Owen to be appalled, but his white-hot anger surprised them. He strode up and down the aisle, staring into each cell in turn. The twelve survivors watched him silently, in their own way. Lewis shrank back a little as Owen turned his cold glare on him.
"This is intol
erable," Owen snapped. "They belong in a hospital, not a zoo! I won't have this!"
He gestured sharply with one hand, and all the force shields closing off the cells disappeared. Jesamine shrank back against Lewis, and Rose grabbed Brett's arm to keep him from bolting. Owen ignored them, concentrating on the twelve survivors as they emerged from their cells for the first time in two hundred years. The man and woman joined into one huge insect-like body. The one who had been turned inside-out all down one side had finally stopped crying, and was trying to smile with its half a mouth. A man who had once moved impossibly quickly slowed to a blur, kneeling before Owen. A man who had torn out his own eyes to keep from seeing, now looked at Owen with tears in his new eyes. An ever-changing shape settled for a while into an ordinary woman, wringing her hands together in joy at seeing Owen. A man who had slept for two hundred years woke up, and came out of his cell to kneel before Owen. A woman who had smiled endlessly for two hundred years sobbed quietly in relief. A great fleshy mass that had once been human threw aside his extra bulk like a shell and came out to kneel in his turn. A woman stopped fading in and out of reality long enough to kneel before Owen. Someone who looked just like Owen came out to kneel before the original. And a man who had done nothing but commit murder for two hundred years had to be coaxed out of his cell by the others. He showed Owen the blood dripping from his hands, and asked pitifully if he could stop now, at last.
"It is over?" he said. "Please, I want to go home. We all want to go home."
"Of course," said Owen. "And you will. None of this is your fault. Go back into the Maze, and it will heal you. Because I said so."