The Nonborn King

by Julian May

  The Interrogator bowed his head. "My former loyalty to the usurper has been shaken since his alliance with Abaddon. You know the role that those two have forced on me ..."

  Aluteyn uttered a short laugh. "And we also know what your loyalty's worth compared to your own precious skin! Poor Cull. Whipsawed yourself properly this time."

  "I know Culluket hates Nodonn." Mercy's mind was icy. "But they are Host Brothers. And Tanu. And now there's a fine expedient reason for Cull to turn his coat again! Isn't that so, Redactive Brother?"

  "The Great Queen is wise," said Culluket, without emotion.

  "Well, then!" she exclaimed, the old wildfire in her eyes. "If we can't fly to Nodonn now, then let's think about how we might use Felice to kill Aiken! Shall we warn her of his impending raid on her treasure-trove?"

  "Elizabeth has Felice inside the room without doors," said Aluteyn. "She might not hear. And if she did, we can't count on her sparing us."

  Kuhal's face had gone livid. "For the love of Tana—don't think of summoning that elemental female, my Queen! Cull can tell you what she's capable of!"

  "Even the worthy Abaddon holds Felice in respect," said the Interrogator. "And may I suggest, as we mull over possible plans of action, that we don't forget that Abaddon has unexcelled directorial powers in metaconcert. He can smite us with a psychocreative blast at any range—I know that for a fact. He can't coerce us from the other side of the world, but he does possess stupendous farsensing power."

  "Then why the hell didn't he finger Nodonn for Aiken?" Celo puzzled.

  Culluket gave a mental shrug. "My dealings with this mysterious person have been peremptory in the extreme. I'm less than a thing to him. Abaddon seems indifferent to our petty politics. He's a manipulator, but only on a grand scale—"

  "As opposed to you, Brother," said Kuhal.

  "—and it's very possible that he doesn't care who rules the Many-Colored Land. He'd use Nodonn as readily as he now uses Aiken."

  "The bastard!" hissed Mercy. "Who can he be?"

  The four Tanu men regarded her in amazement. "You don't know, then?" asked the Craftsmaster. "Oh, lass. No wonder you've been so full of mad plans." And he told her, beginning with the events he himself had witnessed twenty-seven years before, when he and the old Lord Coercer and Gomnol and the Lord of Roniah first encountered Marc Remillard and his party of exiled metapsychic rebels.

  Mercy seemed turned to marble inside her silver-lustre armor. "Then there's no hope at all of halting the Quest. No hope." She turned away from them. "But, if Aiken gets the Spear, then Nodonn will have no advantage over him in the final Duel of Battlemasters."

  "No." Culluket smiled at her back. "Nodonn will have to meet Aiken fair and square if he wants to be king. And maybe lose."

  "Brother—enough!" Kuhal struggled to a sitting position. "There is no honorable escape from the present peril, no way to abort the raid. We must cooperate fully with Aiken Drum, and the Good Goddess alone knows how this affair will end. She may use Felice as her agent to destroy the usurper ... or she may grant him success. But if we survive, then there may still be time for us to rally round the true king as he leads us in the Nightfad War!"

  Kuhal fed back, his face twisted in pain. Culluket bent over him with his palms pressed to his brother's temples. Kuhal relaxed, instandy asleep.

  Mercy turned off the little sigma-field generator and handed it to the Interrogator.

  "So that's that," Celadeyr remarked. "But poor Kuhal was right. We'd have to give Aiken Drum and his North American evil genius our very best shot in the Quest. Whether we like it or not." He and Aluteyn saluted Mercy briefly, then pushed aside the door-flap of the pavilion and went out into the loud night.

  She stood close to the ruby-clad Interrogator as he replaced the screening device in his sabretache. "You knew about Nodonn all along, didn't you, Death? My announcement was no surprise to you."

  "I am the greatest redactor of the Host. I would have felt my eldest brother's extinction."

  "And yet you didn't warn Aiken."

  "He knew. I showed him where the proof lay, within you."

  "Machinator!"

  "As you, my Queen. But I think my game at last reaches its climax."

  He smiled down at her before covering his beauty with the red-glass helmet. She let her gloved hand rest lightly above his armored heart, touching the transfixed death's-head that was his heraldic cognizance. She had never noticed before that the skull's eyes were sapphires, like his, and that there was a flaming halo about it that mimicked his hair.

  "Do you mean you're finally afraid?" she inquired archly.

  "Yes."

  "Ah! Well, so am I. Again. Will you take my hand, Death? Will you comfort?"

  Nodding, he closed his visor and drew her to him. The tad red-armored form and the smaller one of emerald and sliver faded together like wraiths and were gone, leaving Kuhal Earthshaker alone in dreamless sleep.

  ***

  Dawn mist clung to the Hidden Springs evergreens like trailing scarves as Amerie walked by herself toward the little log chapel, carrying the bread and wine. The roosters had crowed and the penned goats and picketed chalikos were making low sounds; but the villagers and their guests still lay abed after the impromptu party of the night before.

  Amerie thought: It's just you and me this morning, Lord. I'm glad.

  She lit the two altar candles and prepared the offerings, then went into the tiny vestry to remove her wimple and veil and put on the scarlet chasuble of Pentecost. Singing her own entrance song, she came into the sanctuary.

  Veni Creator Spiritus,

  Mentes tuorum visita:

  Imple superna gratia,

  Quae tu creasti pectora.

  She said the prayers at the foot of the altar with bowed head, then turned toward the dark interior of the chapel to give the first blessing.

  "Dominus vobiscum."

  And Felice said, "Et cum spiritu tuo."

  The priest stood frozen in place with her hands raised as a girl in a long white gown came up the aisle and stood before the altar step, smiling.

  "I'm back," Felice said. "Elizabeth's been working on my mind, and she's reamed all of the old garbage out. I'm sane now, Amerie. Isn't that wonderful? I can love properly now, without the pain detour. I can make a free choice of who to love, and how. I can give you joy just like mine! Elizabeth told me to choose, you see, and there was you and there was Culluket. You remember him, don't you? I did love him more than you before, when I was mad. But now I know better. So I've come to fetch you."

  Amerie said, "Felice ... my vow. My choice."

  "But it's me," said the girl reasonably. "Not just any woman—me! You love me and want me just as I want you. So come."

  "You don't understand. My renunciation is my gift to God. My body offering, like the bread and wine I'll consecrate in the Mass. I gave it away long ago—"

  "You can take it back." Felice stood in front of the half-log benches, luminous in the light of the two candles, swaying as if she were a thing cut from fragile tissue set in motion by the priest's own accelerating breath. Her eyes were like wells. "Come away now. We'll fly together! I'm a white gyrfalcon now, and you shall be a cardinal-bird!"

  "No," Amerie whispered. "Felice, I can't. You still don't understand. This is where I belong, serving these people who need me. I'm their priest and their doctor. They're good for me and I love them—"

  The girl in white interrupted. "You love me more."

  "Yes," Amerie admitted. "I do and I always will. But it changes nothing. I can't help the love, but I can choose not to consummate it. And I do."

  Slowly, Felice's expression changed. There was puzzlement, surprise, hurt, frustration, fury. "You won't?"

  "No."

  "It's your God, isn't it! He's locked you up! Trapped you in this stupid web of self-denial!"

  "I haven't denied myself. You don't understand."

  "Stop saying that to me! I do understand! You choose him and not
me! You still think my love is filthy and sinful!" Tears poured from the black holes of her eyes. "I'm no good after ad. I can see into your soul, see that you're still afraid of me. You won't go with me and you'd never let me stay here with you. Oh, no! I'm not human enough to be one of your little flock, am I, Good Shepherd? I'm a Goddess! But you'd rather have your damned old mean-spirited, jealous God."

  Amerie sank down onto her knees. "You are human. Dear Felice, you are. But so different from the rest of us! Go back to Elizabeth. Let her teach you how to live in your world of the mind. That's where you belong."

  "No," Felice wept "I belong with you."

  "I can never enter your mind-world, Felice. I'm only a normal woman. I can't help but be afraid of people like you ... just as I can't help loving you. Felice, let me be. Go to your own people."

  "I won't!" the girl screamed. "I won't go without you! If you won't come with me willingly, I'd force you!" The two altar candles were suddenly extinguished. Only the wan mist-light from the two little windows and the garnet sanctuary lamp gave illumination.

  Felice's hands seized Amerie by the shoulders. Psychoenergies flowed from the girl's brain and Amerie was wrenched by shock. "You'd do as I say!" Felice cried, terrible in coercion. "You'd stay with me for as long as I want you. Do you hear me?"

  Racked by clonic spasms, her vocal cords paralyzed, Amerie felt herself lifted. There was a smell of burning fabric as her vestments smoked beneath Felice's grip, and then the priest's own flesh burned and her heart stopped.

  Sursum corda.

  "Choose me, Amerie!" The one elevating her was now incandescently nude. "Do it—and I'd start your heart again. Just say you love me."

  Dignum et justum est.

  Felice flung the body in its red vestments to the floor and loomed high, dimming. Hoc est enim corpus meum. "Choose me! Please, Amerie!" Per ipsum et cum ipso ..." Please!" In saecula ...

  Amerie's dying eyes shone. Her mind told Felice: No. I love you. This Mass is for you.

  And then the mind escaped, leaving the girl to rage and mourn and finally shape-shift back to the old raven form. In this Felice set off for Spain, to give the other lover his choice.

  9

  SHE'S LOOSE. She's loose. Felice is loose ...

  The dumb refrain played over and over in a subliminal stratum of Aiken's conscious, a piping discordancy over a sustained drone of fear. The bad news hadn't come from his incompetent spy in Black Crag but from Elizabeth herself, who farspoke him shortly after dawn, when his fleet was less than an hour from its rendezvous with the Koneyn land force and the three North American operants:

  She's loose Aiken! Felice is loose. I let her get away from me ... and she's killed Amerie.

  God damn.

  Amerie's death is my fault mine. I could have taken Felice out during redaction. Let her sink into aphanisis. Ego demolition. She would have become veggie Creyn&Dionket urged it I could have yes nonaction in such complex case wouldnot violate ethic. But no! I was so certain I could save her! I did make her sane ...

  Sane ≠ altruistic. Right?

  Felice remains totally selfcentered. Dedicated to doing exactly as she pleases above all things. She made complete fool out of me.

  Elizababe innocent.

  I worked with children in Milieu! And Felice is child. If only she had stayed had let me educate her mature her O Aiken she may never grow up now a childelementalforce on loose! She's loose ...

  Damnyou. Damnyou! [Spinechill genitalshrink heartrace.] Madmonsters can be tricked through own delusions. Sanemonster ≥ Me + AngelAbyss!!

  And she's loose ... loose. I don't know where can't track. Her mental-screen perfect. You must ask Remillard try physical scan with enhanced farsight. Certain: Felice will look for Cud. Rejected by Amerie she goes for other loveobject Don't have to tell you what happens if she finds him. You must shield Cullmind with everything you've got.

  Cull has job to do for Me.

  No no hide him some deepcavern get him out of Europe altogether as soon as possible! You must abandon notion raid Felicelair Betics. Suicidal!

  Got to have Spear Babe. Photocannon + psychozap concert we cooking tips firepower balance My side. And not only vs Felice ...

  Aiken you MUST NOT continue Quest now that she's loose.

  We're ad set. Postponing won't help. Maybe we have chance grab loot before she realize what makes. Her farsight 2ndrate.

  Don't fortheloveofGod don't.

  Must. (Looseloose Felice is loose! Looseloose Felice is loose!) Shit now you got Me looping—

  Felice capable of destroying you + entire force.

  I'll win! [Panic. Temptation abandon. Resist! Slam on it!] Looseloose Felice is loose! Looseloose ... SHUT OFF THAT DAMN LOOP ELIZABETH!

  If you go you'll die I'd have your deaths on my conscience as well as Amerie's!

  Youyouyou! Too fewkinbad for you! And fewkinconscience! Quit BLEEDING on me! Go make good actcontrition or something.

  Please ...

  GET GONE.

  ...

  As he sent an additional fusillade of curses at her, Elizabeth's thought pinched off. She had retreated to the sanctuary of the room without doors.

  "That's it—hide!" he yelled. "Leave me to shovel up the shit you bungling do-gooder! Well, if I have to, I will!"

  He shot a carefully guarded cad to North America. Even though Felice emitted no mental aura that a farsensor could detect she still possessed physical mass impossible to disguise. The augmented ultrasenses of Abaddon, scanning southern Spain, had no assurance of finding the girl—but they could determine where she was not. After a suspenseful interval, Aiken was reassured that Felice was not at that time physically present within an 80,000-square-ktiometer area centered upon Mount Mulhacén.

  The intelligence was sufficient to put a "go" stamp on the raid.

  ***

  The 75 sailing vessels of Aiken's fleet, which included every seaworthy craft in the Many-Colored Land, moored just off the mouth of the Río Genii at 0530 hours. Some 2000 humans of the elite guard, who served the expedition in a support capacity, made haste to unpack, inflate, and launch a flotilla of 180 pneumatic rivercraft and guide them to the base-camp where the Spanish forces waited. Each solar-powered barge could carry 20 Tanu knights and their chargers, together with field rations and a spartan quota of supplies. Two of the craft had been fitted out as primary and backup laser repair shops, so that there would be no time lost getting the Spear operational.

  Shortly before 0800, when everything was in readiness, Aiken mounted his own black chaliko and levitated to a commanding height before the ranks of waiting combatants. Unlike them, he was not wearing glass armor, but rather his golden suit of many pockets, the glittering jet cape, and the broad-brimmed hat with black plumes, now surmounted by the regal circlet He saluted the knights and nobles, the High Table Exalteds and Queen Mercy-Rosmar with the small, gold-plated laser-truncheon he had taken to carrying as a baton of office.

  "Battle-companions! We're ready to raid the monster's lair. Up on Mount Mulhacén, inside Felice's cave, is the holy Spear of Lugonn that was torn out of my hands during the Great Flood. The Spear is a sovereign symbol of our Tanu heritage. It's also a weapon that can be our ultimate defense—not only against Felice, but against the Firvulag Foe or any other enemy that dares to challenge us. In addition, the cave holds a treasure-trove of golden tores. Since the equipment for manufacturing tores was destroyed when Muriah flooded, it is vitally important that we seize this supply so that we will be able to raise our children to metapsychic operancy during the years before natural operants are born to us. The sacred Spear and the cache of tores represent nothing less than survival insurance for our Tanu race! This is the true objective of our Quest.

  "I won't minimize the hazard. We are all in danger of death. Felice's mind is more powerful than any in the Many-Colored Land, more powerful even than any mind that will exist in the Galactic Milieu six million years from now. But we can stand up to her! We can unite
in a true metaconcert—and under my leadership vanquish the female demon once and for all. Believe this!

  "Let me tell you what we will do. This Genii River is navigable for about one hundred and thirty-five kilometers, ninety Tanu leagues. We follow it to Mulhacén, where it has its source. There'll be rapids, but the best skippers in the Pliocene will be doing the driving, so have no fear. Certain of you psychokinetics have been assigned to add auxiliary power to the boats, to insure that we reach the head of navigation by 1400 hours. Then we take to the saddle. We'd be out of the jungle by then and into open savanna, and we'll ride hell for leather for another twenty-five or thirty kloms. A little over an hour and we should be at the base of the Sierra Nevada massif, where a dense forest begins and we're in the very shadow of Mulhacén.

  "All of the way up the river and ad across the savanna you will have your minds in linkage, forming a protective umbrella of psychoenergy that will hide us from the monster's sight. At the foot of the mountain, you'll take your stand, waiting in a well-sheltered spot with perfect line of sight on the region around Felice's lair. I alone will fly to the cave. You'd extend your defense to cover me while I abstract the Spear and the tores. Since I'm able to lift more than four hundred tons, I should have no trouble making off with the loot. However, that time when I'm flying back with it does represent the most hazardous period of our raid, since I'd be using most of my brainpower in the levitation. I'll maintain my direction of our offensive metaconcert—but minus my usual share of the psychozap potential. If you ever plan to pray for us, pray then ...

  "Once I'm safe at the foot of the mountain, I parcel out the treasure and we ad haul ass back to the riverboats. We'd turn the mounts loose. That'll give us added speed back to the gulf, since the boats will be lighter. We'd also be traveling with the current instead of against it. As we sad downriver, our hard-working technicians under Pete Carvalho and Yuggoth McGillicuddy will fix the Spear. Again, let us pray! I will lend them my royal assistance unless I'm occupied battling for our lives.