The coachman nodded and slapped the reins; the horses trotted off down the road.
Dirk looked around. “This should be high enough.”
“And dark enough,” Gar agreed. He touched his medallion and said, “Let it come down, Herkimer.” Then he looked out over the lights of Quilichen, the castle on the hilltop in its center almost garish with the lamps of the celebration. Even at this distance, they could hear the music and the noise of revelry, though it was faint.
“You have a lovely town,” Gar told Magda. “You have made it into something of which you may be proud.”
“I am,” Magda said, and reached out to take his hand. “Are you sure you won’t stay in it with us?”
“I thank you,” Gar said gravely, “but I have work to do in this life before I may settle down, and it’s not done.”
“It has to end sometime and somewhere,” Dirk said. “Why not here?”
“Because I haven’t found what you two have,” Gar said, struggling for composure. Magda saw, and let out a little cry, reaching up toward his face, but hesitating.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Dirk asked.
Gar managed a sardonic smile. “I traveled alone before I met you, Dulaine. Don’t worry about me—just do the best you can to take care of each other, and of your world.”
The couple exchanged a glance that lingered, then smiled and turned back to Gar, holding hands. “I hope you will find what we have found,” Magda said.
“A woman with the key to a golden box,” Dirk seconded.
Gar looked up in surprise, almost alarm, then frowned. “That’s right, I did tell you about that dream once, didn’t I? Well, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. After all, I have Herkimer for company.”
“Who is this Herkimer?” Magda asked, frowning.
“That.” Gar pointed upward.
Dirk had told her about it, warned her about the impact, but still Magda cried out and clung tight to him as she saw the huge golden disk falling out of the sky.
It landed on the hilltop, and the ramp slid down. “Ready to board, Magnus,” said the resonant voice within.
“Good-bye.” Gar clasped Magda’s hand, then leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Best man’s privilege,” he explained, then turned to clasp Dirk’s hand and arm with both of his own. “Good-bye, my old companion. Fare you well.”
“Oh, fare you well!” Magda cried, tears in her eyes, and Dirk blinked once or twice himself as he said, “Fare you well, old son. Stop by to visit someday.”
“I will,” Gar promised, then grinned. “Probably with pursuit hot behind me.”
“I shall have the porters ready to open the gate, and the archers ready to fire,” Magda promised.
“I thank you,” Gar said softly. He pressed a quick kiss on the back of her hand, clapped Dirk on the shoulder, and turned to mount the ramp, alone.
He came into the control room, sat in his acceleration couch, and fastened his shock webbing across his body, not speaking. The computer read his presence in the acceleration couch and rose. Gar felt the weight press down on him as the ship hit escape velocity. Then it eased off, and Herkimer’s voice said, “We are in orbit, Magnus. You may move about.”
Gar unfastened his webbing and stood up, feeling the persona of Gar fall from him like a travelworn cloak, becoming only Magnus again. Slowly, he moved to the shower cubicle, undressed, stepped under the ultrasonic beam, waited as dust drifted from him, then hit the spray and let himself linger under the warm water for a good half hour.
Finally, cleaned, dried, and wrapped in the sybaritic luxury of a soft white robe, he stepped out, dialed a drink from the dispenser, and sat down in the acceleration couch again, to sip and contemplate the image of Durvie on the viewscreens. Herkimer, correlating his needs from his unusual silence and Dirk’s absence, kept soft music and the sounds of distant chatter going on, careful not to let the ship seem too empty. Finally he asked, “Where shall we wander, Magnus?”
“Oh, choose a planet at random,” Magnus said carelessly. “Just take the next one down that index of human misery Dirk worked up.”
“As you wish, Magnus.” The computer was quiet for a few minutes, then said, “Course plotted. Leaving orbit.”
There was no change in weight, no sensation of movement at all, but Durvie began to shrink in the viewscreen, very slowly at first, then faster and faster.
Gar watched the planet recede and whispered softly, “You lucky knave, Dirk. You lucky, lucky prince!”