“Yes.”
“Would he know who he had been?”
“Judging from the amnesia he has already experienced, I would say not.”
Lydia turned to Ambry. “I couldn’t bear to lose you again. The first time was hard enough.”
Ambry nodded. “Not only for you, my love. Dr. Sid, what do you suggest?”
“That you trust me. Tell me why you are fleeing. I may be able to suggest alternate ways for you to protect yourself—ways that will preserve your base integrity.”
“The knowledge may endanger you.”
“I can accept that. I’ll even admit to rank curiosity. You see, the name of Lydia Hazzard is familiar to me through one of my other areas of interest.”
“Oh?”
“The study of the phenomenon where virt participants become lost in uncharted territory. I saw some of Dr. Hamill’s early, unpublished notes on your case—notes from before the court decision was handed down and forced him to refer to you as Patient F17.”
“Ah
“And I can deduce that Mr. Ambry here may have had some role in that disappearance.”
Lydia glanced at Ambry. He nodded.
“The probability is high.”
“And the interesting question of your daughter…”
“Parthenogenesis.”
“Of course. What else could it be?”
“What else?”
The three studied each other. Sid with hands folded in his lap, Lydia somewhat anxious, Ambry guarded—even dangerous. After a long silence, Ambry nodded sharply.
“Very well. I will trust you. I only hope that you will not regret your choice.”
Sid smiled. “Me, too.”
“No publishing this material.”
“No.”
“No prying into Alice’s life.”
“Very well.”
“And if you must consult with a colleague, you will do so with utmost discretion.”
“I have no problem with that.”
Ambry relaxed slightly. He reached out and took Lydia’s hand.
“I am the Piper.”
Sid started.
“Sir?”
“I am the Phantom Piper who once played for the legions of Skyga. He has reawakened my regiment and seeks to draw me to them again.”
Sid’s brown eyes were wide. He looked as if he would kneel, shout, run about the room. He settled for juggling his notebook from hand to hand.
“The Piper! The Phantom Piper! By all the gods on Highest Meru, that explains it! I had wondered when you mentioned the machine, but…”
Lydia and Ambry stared at him.
“Would you please explain to us?” Lydia said dryly. “Apparently you are privy to knowledge that neither of us share.”
“You mock me!”
“No,” Ambry said. “As far as I know, I am Wolfer Martin D’Ambry, the Phantom Piper of the fabled Regiment of Skyga. That is all—I thought it was quite enough.”
Sid calmed himself with visible effort.
“Although it is little known beyond ourselves, there is a theological tradition held by many of the aions.”
“I have heard something of that,” Ambry said, “but never cared to pursue it.”
Sid shook his head in disbelief. “In that tradition, the Piper is one of the incarnations of a Veritean scientist named Warren Bansa.”
“Bansa,” Lydia said. “I read about him. He was the one who jumped from a plane claiming to be performing a skydiving act. He vanished and was never seen again.”
“Yes. That’s the man. To us, however, his more important role was as the primal mover in the creation of the Genesis Scramble. Tradition says that he is the one who overloaded the World Net so that it crashed.”
Ambry spoke softly. “And when it awoke, all was changed and Virtu was born. I remember nothing of that.”
“I cannot say why,” Sid continued, “but our traditions hold that Bansa—alone among the three sanctified Veriteans—has multiple forms. One is the Phantom Piper, one is the Master, and the last is the One Who Waits.
“The Master was recalled to me when you mentioned coming to yourself over a strange piece of equipment—for our traditions say that the Master is the geometrician who had a major role in the creation of the universe. In our iconography, he is often portrayed carrying a strange machine. The One Who Waits has a scar that runs from the top of his head to the sole of his left foot. Legend says that he will figure in the closing—or perhaps only the change—of Virtu.”
“It is almost too much,” Ambry said, and Lydia squeezed his hand in agreement. “I thought I was one legend—now you tell me I am three—or is it four? I resisted Skyga rather than join his battles again, but now you tell me that I have a fate that seems to insist on even greater things.”
Sid nodded. “This is more than an overwritten psyche proge—let me tell you that. Still, I believe you when you say who you are and, if our theology is correct, then the rest follows.”
“Oh.”
Lydia frowned. “And what happened to Warren Bansa?”
“I have no idea,” Sid confessed. “Our legends never dealt with that. His vanishing seemed just a part of the legend—like Arthur going to Avalon and promising to return someday.”
“And what can we do for Ambry?”
“Can you stay with him?”
“I will need to contact Alice, but I believe so. The clinic will function without me.”
“We can even arrange some extra medical help through the Donnerjack Institute,” Sid offered. “I think the best thing that can be done for Ambry right now is for him to keep to the wild lands and for you to stay with him. If he begins to change, you will need to protect him—to keep him from doing anything crazy—and, if you don’t mind, to contact me.”
“You?”
“I would gladly put myself at the service of one of the sanctified Veriteans. And if I am with you, I may be able to deduce what is causing the alterations.”
Ambry released Lydia’s hand, rubbed his eyes.
“Skyga’s pursuit may be the proximate cause, but you believe that there is something more—do you not?”
Sid folded his hands prayerfully.
“Legends say that the One Who Waits will figure in the closing or change of Virtu. You speak of rumblings among the Great Gods. I think that the waiting is ended—be it closing or change, I would play a part.”
“Lydia?”
“He has a good point. I can work with him.”
“Then it is agreed. If the need comes, we will call on you.”
“Thanks. Ill give Lydia my beeper number.”
“And nothing of this to anyone.”
“Nothing. I swear, unless…”
“Yes?”
“Would you let me confide in Paracelsus? He is the coordinating aion for the Donnerjack Institute—and my closest friend. He has a deep interest in the cult of the Sanctified Three.”
“Does he?”
“John D’Arcy Donnerjack is one of that number—we call him the Engineer, the counterpart to the Master, and the Guide.”
Lydia touched Ambry’s hand. “I have a feeling we should.”
“Ayradyss?”
“It does seem like fate.”
“Very well,” Ambry said. “Tell Paracelsus, but keep your counsel close or those changes may happen sooner and less fruitfully than they should.”
“Very wise.”
Without further leave-taking (Sid was too shaken, Ambry and Lydia too thoughtful), all departed the consulting room. Lydia left Alice a note saying that she had been called away for an undefined emergency. Then she used the virt transfer facility at one of the Hazzard family ski resorts (closed for the season) to join Ambry.
Returning to the land behind the North Wind, Ambry perched on a high crag and played the salute he had composed for the birth of John D’Arcy Donnerjack, Junior to amuse the genius loci. When Lydia walked up the path and seated herself near enough to listen in comfort, he finished his piece and let the mouthpiece drop.