by Titan Books
Virdon let the young man go. Dalton stepped out into the clearing; the others remained where they were, watching him.
Dalton waited as the sound of the galloping horse was almost upon him. Suddenly, Irnar emerged from the trees, into the clearing. He pulled his horse to a halt when he saw Dalton who walked up to him.
“What of my father?” he asked.
“He was a brave man,” said Irnar simply.
Dalton studied the prefect’s face. “And the games?”
Irnar sighed deeply. “I’m afraid they died with him. Perhaps there is a better way to govern.”
“There must be,” said Dalton.
There was a long moment, of silence as they looked at each other. “Tell your friends that I have never met them, and they have never met me,” said Irnar.
“Yes, Prefect.”
Irnar reached into his pocket, extracted something, and handed it to Dalton. “And wish them good luck for me,” he said. He suddenly wheeled his horse around and rode back down the path. Dalton stood watching him go and then glanced down at the object in his hand. Resting in his palm was the magnetic disk on its leather thong.
Later, after some walking through the woods guided by Dalton, the party stopped at a fork in the trail. “You sure you won’t go with us?” asked Burke.
Dalton nodded. “There’s so much for me to think about. So much I still don’t understand,” he said. ‘
“It could be dangerous here for you,” said Virdon.
Dalton paused, thinking hard. “That isn’t important,” he said. “What is… important… I think… is that killing should stop.” He paused again, having difficulty articulating his feelings. “People should know that. Killing should stop. Well, I guess I won’t be seeing you. Good luck.”
“You never know,” said Burke. “We may pop back in on you sometime.”
“I hope so,” said Dalton. He turned and walked off in the direction of his home. Virdon, Burke, and Galen watched him go.
“A beginning, I guess,” said Burke.
“Who can tell?” asked Virdon, smiling. “The world seems to be able to use all it can get.” He pointed off down the right fork, which Dalton said went on almost due south. With an audible sigh from Galen, the three fugitives shouldered their packs more comfortably and continued their march.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A winner of the Hugo and Nebula Awards, George Alec Effinger was the author of What Entropy Means to Me and Schrodinger’s Kitten. He died in 2002.
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