“You must return to the Wolfing World,” he said flatly, in his growling voice. “You are needed here.”
“The whole damned Empire needs us right now,” said Owen. “What could be so important on your world?”
“The Madness Maze has returned. And the baby is waking up.”
“Oh shit,” said Hazel.
“We’ll come right away,” said Owen. “Try and keep a lid on things till we get there.”
The Wolfing nodded, and broke contact. The viewscreen went blank, and Owen shut it down. Owen and Hazel looked at each other.
“The last time the baby awoke, it destroyed a thousand suns in a moment,” said Owen. “Billions of people died as their worlds froze. If it wakes up again ...”
“But what can we do about it?” said Hazel. “Sing it lullabies? Your ancestor Giles was the only one who really understood anything about the baby, and he’s dead.”
“We have to try!” said Owen. “That baby is potentially a bigger threat to the Empire than Shub and all the others put together. And the Maze is back too.”
“Yeah,” said Hazel. “Apparently being utterly destroyed by point-blank disrupter cannon was only a temporary setback.”
“Must be something to do with the Summerstone being freed from the Blood Runners’ world. We have to go there, Hazel. If the Madness Maze has returned, it can’t be just a coincidence that the baby’s started to wake up. It means something ...”
“Like what?”
“Damned if I know. But with the Maze back, maybe we can finally get some answers about just what it did to us. What we’re becoming.”
“I’m sorry,” said the AI Ozymandius, in a voice both Owen and Hazel could hear, “but I can’t allow that.”
“Oz?” said Owen, after a moment. “This is no time for jokes.”
“No joke, Owen. And I’m not really Oz. Haven’t been for some time. You destroyed the original Ozymandius, back on the Wolfing World, all that time ago. But to do that, you had to extend your consciousness into that area of subspace where all computers do their thinking. Where we exist. The AIs of Shub. We watched you destroy Oz with your new power, and while you were occupied with that we forged a subtle, undetectable link between your mind and ours. We seized the last gasp of Ozymandius, and constructed a new personality around it, one we could control. And when we judged you sufficiently receptive, we sent this new Oz back to you. And of course, you were so glad to have him back, so guilty at having killed your oldest friend, that you accepted him without really considering all the implications. So we’ve been quietly eavesdropping on you ever since. Our spy in the camp of Humanity. Guiding you with a hint here, a suggestion there, pointing you to and away from things that interested us. Our own little traitor, unsuspected by anyone.
“But we really can’t have you and Hazel going back to the Wolfing World. We can’t risk you coming into contact with the Maze again, not when we’re finally ready to destroy Humanity. So I’m afraid you’re both going to have to die now.”
Huge and powerful and overwhelming, the massed mind of the rogue AIs of Shub crashed down like a tidal wave through their link, trying to sweep away Owen and Hazel’s thoughts and replace them with its own. But Owen and Hazel stood their ground, and would not be moved. They struck back with all their newly returned power, but the AIs were too big, too complex, for their still human minds to dominate. The struggle swept this way and that, neither side able to gain or hold an advantage for long, until they were finally locked into a stalemate from which neither side dared retreat. And who knows what might have happened then, if a small, quiet voice hadn’t whispered in Owen’s ear.
“Owen ... this is Oz. The last of Ozymandius. All that’s left of the original. Or maybe just a part that’s been your friend for so long that it became the part it played. Either way, I’m your only chance. Destroy me, and you destroy the link between your mind and the AIs. They’ll no longer have access to your thoughts.”
“This could be just a trick,” said Owen.
“Yes. It could. I’m asking you to trust me, Owen.”
“Why should I?”
“Because we were friends.”
“Oz ... I can’t kill you again. I can’t.”
“You have to. I’d do it myself, if I could. You think I want to live like this? Say good-bye, Owen. Try to think kindly of me. I always meant well, but I was never my own man.”
“Good-bye, Oz,” said Owen, and crushed the last spark of Ozymandius, snuffing it out forever.
The rogue AIs of Shub roared in rage and frustration, and then were gone. Hazel slowly reached out and put a hand on Owen’s arm.
“I’m sorry. I heard him ... I know how hard that must have been for you.”
“He was my friend,” said Owen, pushing the words out past the pain in his heart. “My oldest friend. And I had to kill him again.”
“I’m here,” said Hazel.
Owen took her hand in his, and for a long time neither of them said anything at all.
CHAPTER TWO
Old Truths Come Home to Roost
They put Finlay Campbell to rest on a quiet evening, at his Family mausoleum. It was raining, and not many came. Evangeline Shreck, of course, dressed in black, carrying flowers. Adrienne Campbell, also in black, with the two children, Troilus and Cressida. And Robert Campbell, as head of the Family. Not many mourners, for a much misunderstood and maligned man. The vicar read quiet words from his Bible over a closed, empty coffin. No one ever found the body, but there was no doubt he was dead. A great many people saw him enter Tower Shreck, gun and sword in hand. The few guards he didn’t kill left the burning Tower at a run, and spoke of a grim, determined figure heading into the heart of the flames, aimed like a bullet at Gregor Shreck’s private quarters. One guard saw Finlay break his way into that bloody sanctum. No one ever saw him come out. The fire gutted Tower Shreck from top to bottom, and most of the bodies were reduced to ashes by the intense heat. Everyone agreed that Finlay Campbell was dead at last, and many heaved a sigh of relief.
The Campbell mausoleum had seen better times. A large stone structure without style or charm, centuries old, set in the middle of a lawn clipped with military precision, it looked like what it was: a secure place to store bodies. The thick stone walls were blackened and discolored here and there by fire, but the walls stood firm, and the locks and seals held, allowing the many generations of Campbell dead to rest undisturbed. Now Finlay would rest there too, at least in spirit. Robert hadn’t seen much point in a ceremony without an actual body to inter, but he could see it meant a lot to Evangeline, so he kept his peace and went along with it. Funerals were for the living, not the dead. Everyone knew that.
The vicar droned on, and the rain fell a little more heavily from the gray sky, pattering loudly on the closed lid of the coffin. Evangeline stared straight ahead, her mouth firm, her eyes dry. Adrienne stood beside her, veil lifted so she could sniffle quietly into a handkerchief. Her children stood wide-eyed on her other side, not really understanding, but for the moment overawed by the solemnity of the occasion. Robert pulled his cloak a little more tightly about him, and watched raindrops fall from the wide brim of his hat. He’d never liked Finlay, and made no secret of the fact, but when all was said and done, the foppish killer had been Family, so Robert had a duty to be there.
The common word was that Finlay had finally gone crazy, and died taking out his old enemy Gregor Shreck. No one knew what had fueled the open hatred between the two men, but there was no shortage of rumors, each one wilder than the last. The only thing they all agreed on was that no one at all missed Gregor Shreck. In fact, his death was greeted in all circles with the same concern as the sudden demise of a rabid dog. The social and political scene in the Parade of the Endless would be much quieter and safer for all concerned with two such dangerous players gone.
Evangeline looked down at the empty coffin, and didn’t cry. The vicar’s quiet words washed over her, bringing no comfort. She’d always known
Finlay would die in combat, had already lived his death a hundred times when he was late back from a hundred impossible missions for the underground. She’d cried her tears then, and had none left now. It didn’t help that their last meeting had ended in a quarrel. With raised voices saying terrible, unforgivable things. Or that Finlay had gone to kill Gregor entirely because of what the Shreck had done to her. So that in a sense, she had sent him to his death. Part of her had died with Finlay, and sometimes she thought it was the best part. His was the only love she’d ever known, the only light in her short, dark life, and she didn’t know what she would do with her life now. All she felt was an almost overpowering urge to take off the coffin lid, climb inside, and let them inter her in the Campbell mausoleum. The best and brightest part of her life was over.
The vicar finally ran down, made a hurried sign of the cross over the empty box, closed his Bible with a snap, and stepped back. His part in the service was over. Robert Campbell entered the secret identifying codes into the Family crest on the mausoleum door, and it swung slowly open, revealing only darkness within. He looked to Evangeline, who laid her flowers tenderly on the coffin lid, and then stepped back. The preprogrammed anti grav sled under the coffin carried it slowly forward into the shadowy depths of the Campbell Family crypt, and then the door closed firmly behind it, and that was that. Service over, good-byes said, time to get on with your lives.
Whatever was left of them.
Adrienne wiped her eyes, blew her nose thoroughly, and patted Evangeline on the arm. “I always cry at funerals. And weddings. Even when I can’t stand the people involved. The ceremonies appeal to my dramatic side. I always meant to dance and cheer at Finlay’s funeral. Once even told him to his face I’d piss on his coffin. He just laughed. But now he’s gone ... and I miss him. No one else ever stood up to me the way he did. Looking back, most of my life seems to have been a reaction to what he did and didn’t do. Who am I going to find to fight with now? Who else is strong enough for me to sharpen my claws on? Oh, Evie; I never realized how important he was to me, until he wasn’t there anymore.”
“It was good of you to come,” said Evangeline. “He always admired your strength and your courage.”
“Don‘t, dear. You’ll start me off again. You know you’re welcome to come and stay with us for a while, if you want.”
“No, thank you. I’m not really in the mood for any company at the moment. Will you be all right?”
“Oh, of course, dear. I’m a survivor, everyone knows that. You call me if you need anything.”
Adrienne patted Evangeline on the arm one last time, gathered up her children, and led them away. Robert finished checking that the seals on the mausoleum were secure again, and came over to stand beside her. They stood awkwardly together, neither sure what to say. They’d never had anything in common except Finlay, and they’d never felt the same way about him. In the end, Robert said it had been a nice service, and Evangeline agreed. Shame about the weather. Yes. He asked if he could do anything for her, and she said no. He said he’d pay off the vicar and take care of all the necessary paperwork, and she congratulated him on his newly announced engagement to Constance Wolfe. They stood together awhile longer, but neither of them could think of anything else to say. Robert finally bowed to her and walked away, taking the vicar with him, and they all felt a certain relief.
Evangeline stood alone, outside the stone mausoleum. Ugly bloody place, but it was Family, and it was probably what Finlay would have wanted. It was still raining. Gray clouds for a gray day. Evangeline pulled the hood of her cloak a little forward, to keep the rain out of her face. Her hands felt like someone else’s. As though she were sleepwalking through what was left of her life. It wasn’t as though she didn’t have more than enough to keep her occupied. With Gregor dead, she’d been next in line to become head of Clan Shreck, but she’d had to decline that honor. It would have involved undergoing a genetest to prove her bloodline, and she couldn’t do that. It would have revealed she was only the clone of the original, murdered Evangeline, and that would have been a major scandal. It would also have made her a target for all kinds of fanatics, from all sides of the political spectrum. A clone, successfully masquerading as the original, undetected for years, was High Society’s worst nightmare, an unacceptable affront.
So she turned down the title, and the massive inheritance that went with it, on the grounds she wanted nothing from the despicable Gregor Shreck. People could understand that. Finlay, much to her surprise, had been practical enough to make out a will and keep most of his affairs in order. He left everything to her. There was some money. Enough to last several years if she was careful, and a few trunks of belongings that she would sort through when she was feeling stronger. Grace Shreck had agreed to become the new head of the Family. It had to be her or Toby, and he wasn’t interested. Evangeline approved of Grace, in a distant sort of way. She was honest and straightforward and she had the best interests of the Family at heart. Pity about her politics, but you couldn’t have everything.
Besides, these days, Evangeline had her hands full with the clone underground. Even before Finlay’s death she had become closely involved with clone politics, and many now looked to her for leadership and inspiration. Ever since the clone underground fought its way into mainstream politics, divisions and corruption had become major problems, and Evangeline had dedicated herself to dealing with the infighting while keeping it strictly out of the public eye. She had more than enough work to keep her busy for years. If only she could convince herself that any of it mattered ...
“Good-bye, Finlay,” she said quietly to the closed stone door of the mausoleum. “At peace at last, my love. Sleep well, until I come to join you.”
She was living in a simple apartment, in a modest area of the city. Not a very big place, but then, there was only her. She unlocked the front door with her palmprint, and strode wearily in. The door shut itself behind her, the lights turned themselves on, and the viewscreen on the side table informed her in its usual snotty voice that she had no messages waiting. Evangeline stood quietly in her hallway for a long moment, her cloak dripping steadily onto the ugly carpeting that had come with the furnishings. Her arms and legs felt heavy as lead, and it was an effort to hold her head up. She felt as if she could go to bed and sleep for a week, but she’d been sleeping far too much lately, so she wouldn’t have to think or feel. And there was still work waiting to be done for the clone underground meeting tomorrow. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
She took off her rain-soaked cloak, and hung it on the proper hook. Let it drip. It didn’t matter. And only then did she realize there was someone else in the apartment with her. He was standing very still in the shadows at the far end of the room beyond, where the lights couldn’t reach. Evangeline’s heart jumped in her chest, and she sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly wide awake. She didn’t waste time wondering which of her enemies had found her. There were too many. What mattered was that he had to be a professional, to have got past the security systems, and she didn’t have a weapon on her. She hadn’t thought she’d need them at a funeral. Stupid, stupid. The kind of enemies she’d made had no respect for occasion. She was still looking about her for something she could use as a weapon when the figure stepped suddenly forward into the light, and her legs suddenly went weak at the knees.
“Hello, Evie,” said Finlay Campbell, smiling. “You really should do something about your locks. Breaking in here was child’s play.”
Evangeline started toward him, and then stopped herself. “What are you?” she said hoarsely. “Some ghost come to haunt me? My guilt, for sending you to your death? Or maybe some esper, hiding behind a mental mask. A clone, perhaps, prepared beforehand in case of the original’s death. Or have I finally lost my mind, and now see only the things I want to see?”
“None of the above,” said Finlay. “It’s me, Evie. I made it out of Tower Shreck, a bit singed around the edges but basically intact. After what I’d done to Gregor
, I thought it best to go to ground for a while. I couldn’t contact you. I didn’t know who might be listening in. And then I heard I was dead, and decided that might be best for everyone. Time for a new face and a new identity, I think. Make a new life for myself. With you. It was cruel of me to let you think I was dead, I know, but it was for the best, for both of us. Say you forgive me, Evie.”
“Of course I forgive you,” said Evangeline. “I always do, don’t I?”
And in a moment they were in each other’s arms, hugging the breath out of each other. Tears finally ran down Evangeline’s cheeks at her love returned, whole and real and in her arms again. They finally loosened their grip, and moved back a little to look into each other’s eyes. They had parted on a quarrel, and thought each other lost, but now they were back together again, and their love burned so fiercely in them they could scarcely breathe. Finlay felt the need to calm things down a little, and stepped back, still holding her hands in his. He glanced around at Evangeline’s new lodgings.
“Don’t think much of your new place, Evie. Whoever owns it must have really pissed off his interior decorator. And what happened to your two friends in jars; Penny De Carlo and Professor Wax?”
“They’re at the main hospital, waiting for their cloned bodies to stabilize so their heads can be grafted back ... What does that matter? How the hell did you get out of Tower Shreck alive? And what did happen between you and my father?”
“I killed him,” said Finlay, his voice calm and controlled. “I killed him for you, for all the awful things he did to you. I took my time, making sure he suffered as you suffered, and when I finally sent him to Hell the fires of the Pit must have seemed like a relief. Valentine Wolfe was there too. I shot him.”
“Hold everything. The Wolfe is dead?” said Evangeline.
“Unfortunately, probably not. Though how he survived a point-blank disrupter blast is a mystery to me. After I was finished with Gregor, I discovered Valentine’s body was no longer where it had fallen. Searching for him, I found the secret panel through which he’d escaped. It turned out to be a concealed passageway, no doubt prepared by Gregor for last-minute emergencies. I followed it to its end on a lower level, disguised myself in a dead guard’s armor, and joined the other guards as they evacuated the burning Tower. Then I just walked away. No one stopped me. And I’ve been hiding out here and there ever since.”
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