The last months rose in his mind, a bewilderment of memory. After the surrender of the Anvardian fleet, the Imperials had gone under their escort directly to Canopus and thence through the Anvardian empire. And chief after chief, now that Ruulthan was dead and Taury had shown she could win a greater mastery than his, pledged allegiance to her.
Hunda was still out there with Belgotai, fighting a stubborn Anvardian earl. The Dreamer was in the great Polarian System, toiling at readjustment. It would be necessary, of course, for the Imperial capital to move from isolated Sol to central Polaris, and Taury did not think she would ever have time or opportunity to visit Earth again.
And so she had crossed a thousand starry light-years to the little lonely sun which had been her home. She brought ships, machines, troops. Sol would have a military base sufficient to protect it. Climate engineers would drive the glacial winter of Earth back to its poles and begin the resettlement of the other planets. There would be schools, factories, civilization. Sol would have cause to remember its Empress.
Saunders came along because he couldn’t quite endure the thought of leaving Earth altogether without farewell. Vargor, grown ever more silent and moody, joined them, but otherwise the old comradeship of Brontothor was dissolving in the sudden fury of work and war and complexity which claimed them.
And so they stood again in the old ruined castle, Saunders and Taury, looking out at the night of Earth.
It was late, all others seemed to be asleep. Below the balcony, the black walls drooped dizzily to the gulf of night that was the main courtyard. Beyond it, a broken section of outer wall showed snow lying white and mystic under the moon. The stars were huge and frosty, flashing and glittering with cold crystal light above the looming pines, grandeur and arrogance and remoteness wheeling enormously across the silent sky. The moon rode high, its scarred old face the only familiarity from Saunders’ age, its argent radiance flooding down on the snow to shatter in a million splinters.
It was quiet, sound seemed to have frozen to death in the bitter windless cold. Saunders had stood alone, wrapped in furs with his breath shining ghostly from his nostrils, looking out on the silent winter world and thinking his own thoughts. He had heard a soft footfall and turned to see Taury approaching.
«I couldn’t sleep,» she said.
She came out onto the balcony to stand beside him. The moonlight was white on her face, shimmering faintly from her eyes and hair, she seemed a dim goddess of the night.
«What were you thinking, Martin?» she asked after a while.
«Oh—I don’t know,» he said. «Just dreaming a little, I suppose. It’s a strange thought to me, to have left my own time forever and now to be leaving even my own world.»
She nodded gravely. «I know. I feel the same way.» Her low voice dropped to a whisper. «I didn’t have to come back in person, you know. They need me more at Polaris. But I thought I deserved this last farewell to the days when we fought with our own hands, and fared between the stars, when we were a small band of sworn comrades whose dreams outstripped our strength. It was hard and bitter, yes, but I don’t think we’ll have time for laughter anymore. When you work for a million stars, you don’t have a chance to see one peasant’s wrinkled face light with a deed of kindness you did, or hear him tell you what you did wrong—the world will all be strangers to us—»
For another moment, silence under the far cold stars, then, «Martin—I am so lonely now.»
He took her in his arms. Her lips were cold against his, cold with the cruel silent chill of the night, but she answered him with a fierce yearning.
«I think I love you, Martin,» she said after a very long time. Suddenly she laughed, a clear and lovely music echoing from the frosty towers of Brontothor. «Oh, Martin, I shouldn’t have been afraid. We’ll never be lonely, not ever again—»
The moon had sunk far toward the dark horizon when he took her back to her rooms. He kissed her good night and went down the booming corridor toward his own chambers.
His head was awhirl—he was drunk with the sweetness and wonder of it, he felt like singing and laughing aloud and embracing the whole starry universe. Taury, Taury, Taury!
«Martin.»
He paused. There was a figure standing before his door, a tall slender form wrapped in a dark cloak. The dull light of a fluoroglobe threw the face into sliding shadow and tormented highlights. Vargor.
«What is it?» he asked.
The prince’s hand came up, and Saunders saw the blunt muzzle of a stun pistol gaping at him. Vargor smiled, lopsidedly and sorrowfully, «I’m sorry, Martin,» he said.
Saunders stood paralyzed with unbelief. Vargor—why, Vargor had fought beside him; they’d saved each other’s lives, laughed and worked and lived together—Vargor!
The gun flashed. There was a crashing in Saunders’ head and he tumbled into illimitable darkness.
He awoke very slowly, every nerve tingling with the pain of returning sensation. Something was restraining him. As his vision cleared, he saw that he was lying bound and gagged on the floor of his time projector.
The time machine—he’d all but forgotten it, left it standing in a shed while he went out to the stars; he’d never thought to have another look at it. The time machine!
Vargor stood in the open door, a fluoroglobe in one hand lighting his haggard face. His hair fell in disarray past his tired, handsome features, and his eyes were as wild as the low words that spilled from his mouth.
«I’m sorry, Martin, really I am. I like you, and you’ve done the Empire such a service as it can never forget, and this is as low a trick as one man can ever play on another. But I have to. I’ll be haunted by the thought of this night all my life, but I have to.»
Saunders tried to move, snarling incoherently through his gag. Vargor shook his head. «Oh, no, Martin, I can’t risk letting you make an outcry. If I’m to do evil, I’ll at least do a competent job of it.
«I love Taury, you see. I’ve loved her ever since I first met her, when I came from the stars with a fighting fleet to her father’s court and saw her standing there with the frost crackling through her hair and those gray eyes shining at me. I love her so it’s like a pain in me. I can’t be away from her, I’d pull down the cosmos for her sake. And I thought she was slowly coming to love me.
«And tonight I saw you two on the balcony, and knew I’d lost. Only I can’t give up! Our breed has fought the Galaxy for a dream, Martin—it’s not in us ever to stop fighting while life is in us. Fighting by any means, for whatever is dear and precious—but fighting!»
Vargor made a gesture of deprecation. «I don’t want power, Martin, believe me. The consort’s job will be hard and unglamorous, galling to a man of spirit—but if that’s the only way to have her, then so be it. And I do honestly believe, right or wrong, that I’m better for her and for the Empire than you. You don’t really belong here, you know. You don’t have the tradition, the feeling, the training—you don’t even have the biological heritage of five thousand years. Taury may care for you now, but think twenty years ahead!»
Vargor smiled wryly. «I’m taking a chance, of course. If you do find a means of negative time travel and come back here, it will be disgrace and exile for me. It would be safer to kill you. But I’m not quite that much of a scoundrel. I’m giving you your chance. At worst, you should escape into the time when the Second Empire is in its glorious bloom, a happier age than this. And if you do find a means to come back—well, remember what I said about your not belonging, and try to reason with clarity and kindness. Kindness to Taury, Martin.»
He lifted the fluoroglobe, casting its light over the dim interior of the machine. «So it’s goodbye, Martin, and I hope you won’t hate me too much. It should take you several thousand years to work free and stop the machine. I’ve equipped it with weapons, supplies, everything I think you may need for any eventuality. But I’m sure you’ll emerge in a greater and more peaceful culture, and be happier there.»