by Timothy Zahn
Fierenzo grunted. "Maybe." He nodded past her. "Nikolos and Aleksander don't look happy at all.
That's probably a good sign."
Caroline followed his gaze. The other Greens' expressions seemed to be hovering somewhere between furious and apprehensive, with a large helping of disbelief thrown in. Cyril, in contrast, looked merely thoughtful. "Maybe," she agreed cautiously.
Abruptly, the conversation ended. For another moment, Sylvia and Velovsky stood staring at each other in silence. Then, very deliberately, Sylvia bowed her head toward him. "I hear the Leader," she said in a clear voice. "And I obey."
Aleksander took a step toward her. "Sylvia, don't be ridicu—"
She silenced him with a look. "I have heard the Leader's words from within Otto Human Velovsky," she said. "Those words order me to withdraw my Warriors from their attack positions and to return them to their homesteads." She looked over at the two Grays. "I have given that command."
"No!" Nikolos snarled, flashing a look at the Grays.
"You'd leave us open to our enemies?" Aleksander agreed tensely.
"Yet we know now what Leader Elymas wished for us," Cyril murmured.
"We know nothing of the kind," Aleksander snapped. "That Human is not our Leader."
"The Leader within him has spoken," Sylvia repeated, turning her back on Velovsky and walking back to face the others. "I have no choice but to obey his order."
"This is insane," Nikolos snarled. "What kind of Green are you?"
"She's a Green who knows there's nothing here to fight about," Roger put in. "That there never was anything. Most of the Grays in New York weren't even born when you escaped from the war, and the rest were only children. You can't ask them to pay for the mistakes of their parents, any more than they can demand that kind of payment from you. You can put all that behind you and start again."
"It's what both of your leaders wanted," Caroline added. "You know that's true."
"We know nothing of the sort," Aleksander bit out. "This is nothing more than a pathetic trick."
"So don't believe it," Roger said. "Why not try it anyway? What have you got to lose?"
"Our lives, perhaps?" Aleksander countered sarcastically.
"They can't destroy you, even if they wanted to," Roger insisted. "You've got the superior firepower.
You can afford to back off and see if you really can live in peace together."
"Unless you're willing to admit that a couple of twelve-year-olds can do what you can't," Caroline added.
Aleksander shot a glance at the two Grays, his forehead wrinkling uncertainly—
"No," Nikolos ground out, taking a step forward to put himself and Sylvia face to face. "Our murdered dead will be avenged."
And suddenly, through the tension in the air, Caroline could feel a pressure against her mind. The same pressure she'd felt outside Lee's market, when Cyril had tried to order her to give up Melantha.
Only this time it wasn't directed at her. It was focused full-strength on Sylvia.
"What's going on?" Fierenzo demanded quietly from beside her.
It took Caroline two tries to find her voice. "Nikolos is trying to persuade her to change her mind," she said. "He's trying to make her order an attack."
She thought she'd been keeping her voice low. Apparently, not low enough. "So much for trusting the Greens," Halfdan said, his voice brittle. "Torvald, this is our chance."
"Our chance for what?" Torvald asked.
"What do you mean, for what?" his brother bit out. "Can't you see they're completely locked up? She can't give any new orders."
"You wouldn't dare," Aleksander rumbled, starting toward him.
"Come closer and I'll break your neck," Halfdan warned. "Roger was right, Torvald—they have overwhelming force. If we don't take those Warriors now, when they're out of position and off balance, we may never have another chance."
"Aleksander?" Nikolos muttered from between clenched teeth.
Silently, Aleksander stepped to Nikolos's side; and as he did, Caroline felt a sudden increase in the pressure on her mind. "They're double-teaming her," she breathed to Fierenzo. She took a step toward them—
"No," Fierenzo said quietly, putting a hand on her arm. "Let them work it out themselves."
"But they're ordering her to start a war."
"I know," the detective said, his voice grim. "But if they can really make her do something like that, I want to find it out now rather than later."
"Torvald," Halfdan said urgently. "There are too many for my men. We have to do it together."
"You can't," Roger said, his voice pleading. "Please."
"What about the guarantee my daughter asked you for?" Torvald countered.
Roger seemed to brace himself. "There are no guarantees in this life," he told the Gray. "No one can make promises for the future. But if your two peoples are at peace when the next Leader arises, what reason would he or she have to want to make war against you?"
Torvald didn't answer, his eyes seemingly focused somewhere beyond him. "Torvald!" Halfdan repeated, all but snarling the word.
And then, Torvald's gaze came back, and he turned to his brother. "You're right," he agreed. "This is our chance." He lifted his hand to his cheek. "This is Torvald," he announced. "All Grays, withdraw immediately and return to your homes. Repeat: all Grays withdraw to your homes. It's over." He lifted his eyebrows at his brother. "Halfdan?" he invited.
Caroline looked back at the frozen tableau of Sylvia, Aleksander, and Nikolos, locked in their silent combat. It all looked just like it had a minute earlier... and yet, through the pressure still flowing past her mind she suddenly sensed something was terribly wrong. Her eyes searched Nikolos's face, found no clue there, and drifted lower to his jacket.
His trassk was gone.
Her eyes darted lower, to his hands. There it was, the copper-colored filigree clutched almost hidden in his right hand.
And even as she caught her breath, his left hand dipped into his right palm and pulled the trassk into the shape of a wide, short-bladed knife. With the blade still half-concealed, she sensed him brace himself—
"No!" Caroline cried. Shaking off Fierenzo's hand, she leaped forward, reaching desperately for Nikolos's arm.
But as she had sensed his preparation, so he had apparently sensed hers. She had barely covered half the distance when he turned on his heel, swinging around to point the knife directly at her.
She gazed at the glittering weapon as she moved toward it, time seeming to slow down as the inevitability of what was about to happen flooded across her mind. It was far too late for her to break off her charge toward him now... and even if she could, she wasn't sure she would want to. All of her time and conversations with Sylvia flashed back to mind: the Command-Tactician's quiet pride in herself and her Warriors, her quick and supple mind as she planned her stratagems, her earnestness when speaking of the safety of her people. In spite of all the lies and deceptions, Caroline had no doubt that Sylvia's acceptance of Velovsky's word meant a genuine willingness to make peace with the Grays.
If she died on Nikolos's blade, that chance would be gone.
Distantly, she was aware of other activity beginning to erupt belatedly around her. She felt Fierenzo's hand as it grabbed at her arm and then slid uselessly off her sleeve. From the corner of her eye she saw Torvald start to stretch out his hand toward Nikolos, but she could see that even if he could get his hammergun ready in time Sylvia's body would be blocking his shot.
And she heard Roger's gasp of fear and horror as he realized he was too far away to do anything at all to help. To do anything except watch her die.
Nikolos's knife was in motion now, still in the dreamlike slow motion created by her enhanced mental state. The pressure on her mind changed subtly as it came up toward her....
And suddenly a hand appeared from nowhere, grabbing Nikolos's wrist and twisting the knife to point away from her. Another hand simultaneously slammed palm-first into her chest
, bringing her mad rush to an abrupt and painful halt. Her breath went out in a huff, and for a moment she teetered on the marble floor as she struggled for balance.
Then Roger was at her side, gripping her arms tightly as he pulled her back to stability and safety.
Blinking away sudden tears, she tore her eyes away from the knife and looked up at her rescuer's face.
It was Aleksander, his throat rigid, a stunned and almost terrified disbelief in his eyes as he stared at Nikolos. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice the darkness of a graveyard. "You would kill one of our own?"
"She's a traitor to the Greens," Nikolos snarled, his voice trembling.
"Not to the Greens," Caroline corrected, fighting to get air back into her lungs. "Only to you."
"And to a needless war," Sylvia spoke up, her voice calm and steady, with no sign of the mental battle she'd just gone through. "I have heard the Leader's words. The Warriors will stand down."
Reaching over, she deftly wrenched the knife from Nikolos's hand, collapsed it back into copper filigree, and handed it to Cyril.
"Then you condemn us all to death," Nikolos accused.
"Do I?" Sylvia looked at Torvald. "One Gray leader has already shown himself willing to try the path of peace."
"Halfdan?" Torvald prompted, and ominous edge to his voice.
For a moment Halfdan stood motionless, his throat tight, his scar standing out whitely against the redness in his cheeks. Then, with a frustrated hiss, he lifted his hand. "This is Halfdan," he growled.
"All Grays, go home.... Yes, Bergan, that means you and Ingvar, too.... Just go home." He waited for acknowledgment, then dropped his hand back to slap against his side.
Sylvia turned back to Caroline. "Thank you," she said.
Caroline licked her lips. "Thank you," she murmured back.
"Okay," Roger breathed, and Caroline could hear him struggling to get his mind back on track again.
"Okay. Then there's just one more thing." He looked past Caroline at the S.W.A.T. cops still lined up at the far end of the Winter Garden. "Sylvia, is it possible for you to give them just enough of a Shriek to scramble their perception for a couple of seconds, but without startling them enough that they'll start shooting?"
"It's possible, yes," she said. "You want it now?"
"Please."
She nodded. "Everyone, brace yourselves." Crossing to the far end of the circular platform, she opened her mouth and gave out a sound that sounded like a prairie dog yip. Caroline jerked in spite of the warning—
The three closest palm trees seemed to bulge outward; and suddenly there were three figures walking across the marble floor toward them: a man and two women, one of the women noticeably shorter than the other. Caroline blinked, forcing her eyes back to focus; and to her surprise and delight, she saw that the shorter woman was Melantha. "Melantha!" she gasped, crossing the platform and hurrying down the steps toward the girl. Melantha gave a delighted squeak of her own and broke into a jog.
They met in the middle of the first set of stairs, and for a long moment teetered there precariously as they hugged. "I'm so glad to see you," Caroline murmured, holding the girl tightly. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Melantha said, her voice muffled in Caroline's shirt.
"Thanks to you," the other woman said.
Caroline looked up to see the two adults coming up to her. "I'm sorry," she apologized, suddenly feeling awkward as she released Melantha. "You must be...?"
"We're Melantha's parents," the man said. "Zenas and Laurel. And there's no apology needed."
"More like thanks," a new voice came from behind her.
Caroline turned. Two more Grays had suddenly appeared, a man and a woman, coming down the upper stairs. "I'm sorry—I didn't see you," she said.
"That's okay," the Gray man said with a smile. "We weren't exactly trying to be seen."
"These are Ron and Stephanie, Jordan's and Jonah's parents," Melantha explained, gesturing to them.
"They were hiding masked up on the wall."
"Are you here to gloat?" Nikolos demanded, glaring at Melantha's family.
"Not at all," Roger assured him. "They're here to make a point. Melantha?"
Still standing beside Melantha, Caroline sensed the girl brace herself as she turned to face the other Greens. "I state here and now, Persuaders Cyril, Aleksander, and Nikolos, and Command-Tactician Sylvia," she said in a clear voice, "that I will not use my Groundshaker Gift to help any of you in an unprovoked attack against the Grays."
Nikolos rumbled in his throat. "So we have two traitors—"
"Quiet," Cyril ordered. "Let her finish."
"I also state to you, Torvald and Halfdan Gray," Melantha continued, turning to face them, "that I will not hesitate to use that same Gift in defense of the Greens if they are attacked."
"In other words, Melantha is on the side of peace," Roger said. "And she'll use or withhold her Gift however necessary to make sure that peace is maintained."
"The Peace Child," Caroline murmured, the irony of it suddenly striking her. "Whichever of you gave her that name knew what he was talking about, after all."
Halfdan muttered something under his breath. "Is that it, then? Can we finally go?"
"That's it," Roger said, nodding. "Except for the details of how we go about integrating your peoples into the same areas. But that can wait till tomorrow."
"Why not start now?" Torvald spoke up. "There are a number of fine trees that have been going to waste in Washington Square since the Greens pulled out." He looked questioningly at Zenas and Laurel. "There are also a pair of vacant apartments across MacDougal Alley from my home. Either one would make a good homestead for any Greens who wanted to repopulate the park."
Laurel looked uncertainly at her husband. "What do you think?"
"You know, I've always wanted to live in Manhattan," Ron spoke up before Zenas could answer.
"You said there were two vacant apartments?"
"You can move right in," Torvald said.
"Wait a minute," Aleksander objected. "Melantha's not going to live in the middle of Gray territory."
"That's rather up to you, isn't it?" Roger told him. "If you can get enough Greens to move back to Washington Square, it won't be Gray territory anymore. It'll be Gray and Green territory."
"I'm not sure how well our people would take to such a suggestion," Cyril said doubtfully.
"I'm sure some will be interested," Sylvia spoke up smoothly. "As a matter of fact, I was just thinking that I'd like to try city life for awhile."
Halfdan snorted. "Together with all your Warriors, no doubt?"
"No, just the few necessary to protect the Greens who'll be living there," Sylvia assured him. She lifted her eyebrows at Torvald. "With your permission, of course?"
For a moment, Torvald hesitated. "Are you really ready to trust the Greens with your life?" Halfdan murmured.
The uncertainty in Torvald's face smoothed away. "You don't start by trusting all of them," he told his brother. "You start by trusting just one."
He inclined his head toward Sylvia. "You and your Warriors are welcome, Command-Tactician," he told her. "As far as I'm concerned, the more the merrier. From both sides."
"And with that, I think that we are done," Fierenzo said. "I'll go talk to Cerreta, tell him everything's been cleared up, and send the S.W.A.T. team home."
"You think they'll just let us go?" Sylvia asked, frowning. "I assumed we'd have to Shriek them and disappear before they recovered."
"I'd rather not do that if we don't have to," Fierenzo told her. "Unsolved mysteries are very upsetting to the brass. Still, as I understand it, you showed no actual weapons, did no lasting damage to either personnel or property, and had Mr. Galen's permission to borrow his yacht." He lifted his eyebrows toward Nikolos. "You did have his permission, didn't you?"
"Don't worry," Cyril said. "I'll make sure we did."
"Then I think we're clear," Fierenzo said, offering his
hand to Ron and then Zenas. "I trust I'll be invited to visit you both once you're settled into MacDougal Alley?"
"Absolutely," Zenas assured him. "As Torvald said, the more the merrier." He smiled at Caroline.
"From all three sides."
49
"So what exactly did Cerreta want from you?" Fierenzo asked as he maneuvered the car through the late-night Manhattan traffic.
"Mostly, he just wanted to yell," Roger told him, sitting close beside Caroline in the backseat. "In a quiet and very civilized sort of way, of course."
"Yes, he's good at that," Fierenzo acknowledged ruefully.
"But there were a few actual questions thrown in, too," Roger went on. "Mostly concerning our precise involvement in this."
"I trust you didn't tell him?"
"We pleaded ignorance and stupidity of the highest rank, which annoyed him no end," Roger assured him. "He got particularly miffed when Caroline tried to explain that it was all a mistake, that she hadn't really been kidnapped."
"He was a lot more than just miffed," Fierenzo told him. "He was aching to find something—
anything—he could charge Nikolos and Sylvia with that he could make stick. But half the Greens had already vanished, and the half who were still there didn't have any contraband or weapons or anything else he could use against them. Not even those metal disks that Messerling and a dozen cops swore had been thrown at them during the fight. Apparently, no one could find anything but some bits of really nice-looking jewelry."
"Amazing," Roger agreed. "And of course, Shrieks don't leave any marks, either."
"Or even any aftereffects, at least not at the levels they were using," Fierenzo pointed out. "Cerreta was so desperate he was actually talking about putting some divers into the Hudson to see if they could find whatever had made those big splashes."
"There's a great use for taxpayer dollars," Roger murmured.
"Yeah, and I think Messerling realized that," Fierenzo told him. "Either that, or he decided it would be better to just let the whole thing die as quiet a death as possible."
"Getting S.W.A.T. butts kicked by a bunch of unarmed men and women will do that," Roger said, gazing out the window at the lights and the people of his city. All the accumulated tension of the past week had drained away, leaving him unutterably tired.