Chrys turned away, seeking Andra. How was Daeren?—It had been two days since his blue angels came home.
Garnet caught her hand. "Chrys, it's been so long." His eyes twinkled. "You never check your investments. I could be bribing you again."
She shrugged. "The least of my sins."
He leaned closer to whisper. "Where the devil is Carnelian? Put off by us?"
Chrys sighed.
"He's been a Hyalite client for years. I'll have a word with him."
There was Andra, reclining beside a redwood tree. Chrys had to wait to catch her alone. "How is Daeren?"
Andra thought a moment. "Medically, he's making progress. But his mind—" She hesitated. "He's not trying."
"It's only been two days."
"Too long, for his people. Too many generations of anguish."
"Why isn't he trying, Andra?"
Andra looked as if she had much more to say, but would not. "We'll see."
Suddenly tired, Chrys sank into a seat, refusing the delicacies from the caryatid. Jasper sat next to her and touched her hand. Dismayed, she remembered that Jasper did not yet know that her people couldn't handle Silicon. "Are you sure you won't try the lamb berries?" Jasper asked. "They're new from L'li."
"I'm not hungry." Reluctantly, she passed him the transfer patch.
Jasper puffed on his pipe, his short thumb tapping restlessly at the stem. "We're waiting to hear," he reminded her. "Anything I can do?"
She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jasper. We can't do the job."
He nodded. "I understand. I'll come back with a better offer."
"No, I mean it." She struggled to explain. "The Eleutherians say they can't do it. They'd need a computer too big to fit inside my head."
Jasper's expression did not change. "We knew that."
"You did?"
"We were aware of the theoretical problem. But since it didn't come up in negotiations, I hoped they had it solved."
She grimaced at this optimism. "They haven't."
He set the pipe down. "Well, as I said, we'll come back with a better offer. After all, the job will take longer.
Chrys was astonished. "A better offer—for a job we can't do?"
"Chrys, this project is unprecedented. Elysium hasn't built a new city in over twelve centuries. And now, a dynamic form, to grow of nanoplast. Entirely new technologies will be needed. The sentient engineers, too, have several fundamental problems unsolved."
"But—but it's sheer lunacy."
"Do you suppose the builders of the first Pyramid knew exactly how they'd complete it?"
"But what if we fail?"
"You'll succeed," Jasper assured her. "The math problem, they will solve. They'll fail in other ways. Who knows—maybe Silicon won't be finished in your lifetime, or perhaps never, like the ancient temple of Asragh, forever missing its tallest spire. Even if it does reach completion, someone will want to kill you, for one good reason or another."
"Selenite will," she added ruefully.
"That's why Selenite never gets these jobs herself. But you'll handle it. How long since you've walked on lava?"
She swallowed, thinking, I'm getting too old for lava.
The next day Opal called. "Selenite's at the hospital. Her people got in trouble."
Chrys stared. "Not the minions?"
Opal hesitated. "I think the blue angels emboldened them. They'd never seen people so totally unafraid, even when forced to live at her mercy."
At the hospital Chrys held Selenite's hand. Selenite's face was creased, and she blinked more rapidly than usual. Chrys made herself smile. "Can I help? Send over a few 'libertines' to lecture them?"
"They took their own lives," Selenite whispered. "Twenty of them. Protesting one execution." She struggled to raise herself in bed. "The blue angels inspired them."
"Well, now," said Opal, seated by the bed. "Blue angels never hurt themselves."
"But they encourage disobedience. Chrys, I was wrong," Selenite added. "The blue angels are not safe—they're the most dangerous strain we have."
Opal's eyes met Chrys's for a long while.
"One True God, let the wizards visit," flashed Fireweed. "We've founded a new school of mathematics."
"Could you take half her caseload?" Opal asked at last. "I know it's hard, with your show coming up."
"I'll manage." In fact, Chrys had painted nothing since Endless Light. She wondered if she could ever paint again.
The message light; Andra appeared. "Chrys, Sar and I have to leave town for three days, on personal business. Could you stay over here and look after Daeren? The house has the full medical capacity of the clinic, but in case his people need help, we need a human carrier."
TWENTY-TWO
The defectors from Endless Light had brought with them their unique branch of calculus, from the masters' best minds drawn together in the one intellectual pursuit permitted by the Leader of Endless Light. Now in Eleutheria, they founded a new school of mathematics, a constructive theory of numbers bridging the infinite to the infinitesimal. Their algorithms vastly simplified the creation of the very large from the very small.
"Even the wizards come here to study," flashed Fireweed.
"Working together," predicted Forget-me-not, "we'll soon have what we need to build Silicon."
"Perhaps," said Fireweed. "But I'll never see the building completed. Not within my lifetime."
"Nor mine," agreed Forget-me-not. "But we've shaped the design, the promise of things to come. What could be greater?"
Fireweed extended her filaments, tasting the molecules of excitement from the mathematicians. "As I age, I think over and over again of the God's commandment: Love me, love my people. Something tells me we have more work to be done, beyond Silicon."
"We saved the blue angels," said Forget-me-not. "The deed shines in our history like a golden light."
"But where are the blue angels now?"
"I fear for them, and for us all," the blue one admitted. "There is trouble in the world of the gods, trouble greater than our own."
The snake-eggs picked on Chrys, buzzing so thick she could barely find Andra's address.
"How did you get out alive from the Slave World?"
"Do the slaves pay you to paint their propaganda? Why are you spreading the brain plague?"
"Can you confirm reports that you are secretly a vampire?"
Her best defense, she had found, was silence. But one pesky reporter got tangled in her hair like a fly. She tossed it out, annoyed at losing a few precious strands. "If you won't comment," it warned, "other sources will."
Andra's home was faced in brick, at first glance monotone, but in fact each brick had its own subtle shade. There was no obvious door, but as Chrys watched, two camouflaged octopods slowly shaped themselves out of the brick. The snake-eggs vanished.
"We inform you," said an octopod, "as a matter of courtesy, that this facility is fully secured. No one gains entry or leaves, save by our consent."
"And no one makes trouble within," added the other.
"Over the years we've foiled explosives, poisons, information viruses, even exotic animals," the first added wearily. "Make our day. Try something new."
Chrys frowned. "I'm expected."
"Very well." The disappointed octopods faded back into the brick, which parted to form a doorway.
Inside stood a man she did not know. Not a man; a humanoid sentient, his form too perfect even for Plan Ten. His eyes and nose were of classic proportions; his gray talar flowed majestically from shoulders to feet, his chest bearing a single white stone. "Chrysoberyl."
The voice was Doctor Sartorius. His tone had softened, the voice he had used the night she rescued Daeren. Chrys felt herself flush all the way from her face to her toes.
"I've not had a chance," he said, "to tell you how much it meant to me, what you did for Daeren. I think of him as my own brother."
Speechless, she nodded slightly.
"You understand tha
t he is still very sick." The doctor's lips produced perfect speech. "His brain needs time to heal. The house takes care of that. You need do nothing, except stay here."
Andra approached, also in gray. Her hand brushed his back. They looked like a couple off to a gem-trading convention. "It's been hard for Sar," she said, "these past two weeks."
"And hard for you," said Chrys, recovering her manners. "I'm sorry."
"We're glad we can depend on you." Andra looked backward, toward a passage lined with chandeliers. "Daeren's treatment facility is down the hall."
From the ceiling, the house voice added, "There's a suite for you, Chrysoberyl. Whatever you need, just ask."
"Listen to the blue angels," added Andra. "But be considerate; they don't yet take visitors. They're sensitive about their condition."
"I understand." She warned her people, "No visiting."
"But the blue angels—it's been generations since—"
"Stay dark, lest you lose the sun." Down the hall, false windows hung with valances produced a soft light. There stood Daeren.
He did not speak; though if he had, she might not have heard, for the blood pounding in her ears. She whispered, "Day."
Daeren's eyes were dark, not a hint of light. Without a word, he turned and walked away, down the hall. Chrys followed. At her left, the arched windows came gradually larger, until at some point their light became real, the windows expanding into open archways above long, cushioned seats, as inviting as Olympus. The archways looked out onto a swimming pool, a headball court, and a virtual hiking trail leading up into distant mountains.
Daeren was sitting in a seat beneath the arch. From the wall by his shoulder extended a small table, holding two cups of orange juice and a dish of AZ. Chrys sat beside him. He seemed relaxed, one leg up on the seat, hands clasped upon the knee. The minutes passed. "Daeren, can you talk?"
Daeren met her eyes, his own still dark. "When I have something to say."
She let out her breath. Glancing at the juice and AZ, she asked, "Shouldn't I stay objective?"
"You needn't be a saint."
Chrys reached past him for the cup of juice, her heart pounding to feel him so near. She raised the cup to her lips.
"Chrys . . . what did you give them?"
Her throat tightened. "No arsenic."
"I would have. For you."
Her face burned. For the first time, she realized, she saw him without any micros chatting along. Just the two of them, alone.
"I just want to know," he said, "what to thank you for."
With difficulty she swallowed. "You'll see it at my show." Recalling the Leader, she shook her head. "What an egomaniac— to give up a world for her starving billions, just to see her own damned portrait preach Endless Light to the stars."
"Of course," he whispered. "That would be worth a world." For a minute, he was silent. Then he held out the plate of AZ. "Reward them, for me."
She eyed the blue wafers warily, fearing the Eleutherians would think it meant chatting time. "They haven't done anything good yet."
"They did for me. Let me feed them." Picking out a wafer, he raised it slowly to her lips. Chrys thought, if his finger touched her lips she would faint. She took it into her mouth.
"Oh Great One, we don't want azetidine. We just want to see the blue angels."
Seeing her face change, he asked, "What's wrong?"
"I told them they can't visit."
His eyes widened as if in fear. "Are they angry? I'm sorry," he half choked, "I'm sorry, I—"
"No, Daeren," Chrys insisted. "Of course they're not angry, not anymore. We're the ones to blame; we're all dreadfully sorry." But he looked away without answering. Chrys felt frustrated. "Would you let Forget-me-not visit? She used to be yours."
He looked up. "So that's what you call her." His head nodded slightly. "All right."
Chrys put the patch at his neck. Her hand felt reluctant to leave.
Closing his eyes a moment, Daeren took a deep breath. "All right," he said at last. "Let the others come."
"Take it easy," she told them. She placed the patch again at his neck. This time her hand stayed. He leaned into it like a cat.
Then he looked at her, surprised. "Why, you're right, Chrys. They're not angry at all."
She remembered what they had said they would do, when she told them how she felt for Daeren. "Saints and angels," she muttered. "Don't take them too seriously," she warned halfheartedly. "You know what tricksters they are."
"Oh, but I like what I'm seeing."
She burned all over, full of confusion.
Daeren smiled, almost like he used to at Olympus. A faint flash of blue in his eye, then red and green. "Shall we return the favor?" He placed the patch on her neck, and his hand stayed. If there were a heaven, Chrys thought, it would feel like this.
"Forgive us," came the words, another shade of blue. "Forgive us our complicity in genocide."
"Forgive me," returned Chrys. "Forgive me for deserting you. From now on, I will protect you always, as my own people."
"Oh Great One!" The yellow words of young Lupin. "We must praise your greatness in restoring these good people. Can't we reward the god as you deserve? We have new technology—"
"No," she said aloud.
Daeren's hand came down.
"Sorry," she explained, "they still ask now and then."
He looked down. "You are strong."
"I would have slipped once. But they remembered the Watchers."
He looked up again, his face suffused with delight. "The Watchers. Your people still remember, after a hundred generations." Leaning toward her, he caressed her neck and her luxuriant hair. "Chrys, they can't—but I can. I can make you happy."
She blinked twice. "I'm afraid."
"Why?"
"I'm afraid I'll be your slave."
"I've been yours," he said. "For a long time. Chrys, have mercy."
Her lips parted in surprise. Everyone loved Daeren, they said, but it never occurred to her what she might mean to him. His eyes were again dark, dark and pleading. She closed her eyes, and her lips met his. Lightly at first; like a butterfly at a flower, she still half expected him to flee. Then she caught his head between her hands and pressed hard, her tongue exploring what it longed for.
Daeren stroked her hair from head to shoulders. Then he pulled her to his chest, head against her cheek. "I've dreamed of your hair," he murmured.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I told you, you could have anything you ever need."
"I thought you said that to everyone."
"What?" He drew back, looking her in the face. "Don't they wish." He stroked the hair at her shoulder. "There's been no one else. Not since I met you."
"I'm nothing like Titan."
He shuddered. "Thank god," he said. "Thank god you're not like Titan."
"But you loved him."
"I was captivated by him," Daeren admitted. "His people, and the miracles they made—I could never get them out of my mind. I tried to hide it, when I had to test him, but they knew. When we warned him of the risks he took, they laughed." He looked out to the virtual wilderness. "One night, as I turned to go, he asked me to stay."
Chrys listened, barely breathing.
"The next morning, as I left, he told me to come back to him— as a woman."
Titan, his work so modern, his desires so medieval. She stared without seeing.
"I knew then that he wanted only a conquest, like his others. Just to see if I would do it."
"But why did you have to test him?"
"I told Andra I'd never test him again. But he told her no one else would."
"What? They can't get away with that."
"We make exceptions," her reminded her. "Your friend Ilia; for her, only Andra will do. It's either that, or leave her to Eris."
Chrys thought, she'd tell Ilia a thing or two. "So you went on ..."
"It was that, or turn him in. He knew we needed him, the grea
t dynatect, the shining example of what micros can do. A month later, he was dead."
"But not his people."
Daeren nodded. "I thought being refugees would teach them something. But all they could think of was saving their plans and starting their own New World. So that's what they got." He looked her in the eye. "With you, they did improve. Andra was impressed."
"Well, that's something."
"They still never gave me a clue. Usually when someone likes me, their people make no secret of it. But with yours, it was always, 'Anything you can do, we can do better.'"
Chrys smiled ruefully. "They are kind of stuck on themselves. Well, you have them now."
Daeren gripped her shoulders, as if desperate. "Chrys, if you lost them all, I'd still love you, just the same."
That made all the difference. She took a deep breath. The feel of his fingers, the scent of him, only cried for more. She pressed him to her breasts, her waves of hair spilling over his shoulders. They rolled down together on the cushion, only nanotex between them. She caught him between her thighs, feeling his hardness press into her. She pressed harder until she climaxed. She gasped, her nails digging into his back. Then she lay back with a smile, tossing the hair out of her face. "I couldn't wait," she breathed. "I've wanted you so long."
Daeren lay beside her, stroking her forehead. "Chrys, I just want to make you happy, if it's the last thing I do."
"Don't say that." A touch of fear returned, fear of something she could not define. "You have to live forever."
"Anything," he promised. "I'll do anything I can." She looked him over speculatively. "Then let me see a little more of you."
He regarded her as if thinking it over. Then he reached behind his neck to touch the collar control. The nanotex peeled slowly, down his arms and his chest and beyond, all the way revealing clear, unblemished skin, not even a broken vein. Just to be sure, her hand traced the curve of his muscles, exploring every inch. I got him back, she thought; I'll never have to see those muscles rotting in my dreams. She sighed. "I'll sleep better now." "Then why don't you help me sleep better?" Twisting back her hair, she touched behind her neck. The nanoplast creased and gathered, flowing down from her breasts and up from her legs, collecting as usual into a compact disk that slid onto the cushion. Daeren started with his lips at her breasts, as sensitive as a woman, she thought. Then his lips traveled downward, deliberately, no hurry, only time out of time. After a time she felt herself rouse again. He slowly brought her up, soaring higher than before, until she cried out.
Brain Plague (elysium cycle) Page 33