“You—you and Prince—want to control the internal flames that run worlds against the night. There, the fire has broken out. It’s scarred this world, this city, the way Prince scarred you.”
“To bear such a scar,” Prince (Lorq felt his jaw stiffen; muscles bunched at temple and forehead) said slowly, “you may have to be greater than I.”
“To bear it I have to hate you.”
Prince smiled.
The Mouse, Lorq saw from the corner of his eye, had backed against the doorjamb, both hands behind him. Slack lips had fallen from white teeth; white encircled both pupils.
“Hate is a habit. We have hated each other a long time, Lorq. I think I’ll finish it now.” Prince’s fingers flexed. “Do you remember how it started?”
“On Sao Orini? I remember you were as spoiled and vicious then as you—“
“Us?” Prince’s eyebrows arched again. “Vicious? Ah, but you were blatantly cruel. And I’ve never forgiven you for it.”
“For making fun of your hand—“
“Did you? Odd, I don’t remember. Insults of that nature I rarely forget. But no. I’m talking about that barbaric exhibition you took us to in the jungle. Beasts; and we couldn’t even see the ones in the pit. All of them, hanging over the edge, sweating, shouting, drunk, and—bestial. And Aaron was one of them. I remember him to this day, his forehead glistening, his hair straggling, face contorted in a grisly shout, shaking his fist.” Prince closed his velvet fingers. “Yes, his fist. That was the first time I saw my father like that. It terrified me. We’ve seen him like that many times since, haven’t we, Ruby?” He glanced at his sister. “There was the De Targo merger when he came out of the board room that evening.., or the Anti-Flamina’ scandal seven years ago … Aaron is a charming, cultured, and utterly vicious man. You were the first person to show me that viciousness naked in his face. I could never forgive you for that, Lorq. This scheme of yours, whatever it is, with this ridiculous sun: I have to stop it. I have to stop the Von Ray madness.” Prince stepped forward. “If the Pleiades Federation crashes when you crash, it is only so that Draco live—“
Sebastian rushed him.
It came that suddenly, surprised all equally.
Prince dropped to one knee. His hand fell on the quartz lumps; they shattered with blue fire. As Sebastian struck at him, Prince whipped one of the fragments through the air: thwik. It sank in the cyborg stud’s hairy arm. Sebastian roared, staggered backward. Prince’s hand swept again over the bright, broken crystals.
…thwik, thwik, and thwik.
Blood dribbled from two spots on Sebastian’s stomach, one on his thigh. Lynceos lunged from the pool edge. “Hey, you can’t—“
“—yes he can!” Idas grappled his brother; white fingers tried and failed to tear the black bar from his chest. Sebastian fell.
Thwik …
Tyy shrieked and dropped to his side, grabbing his bleeding face and rocking above him.
…thwik, thwik.
He arched his back, gasping. The wounds on his thigh and cheek, and two on his chest flickered.
Prince stood. “Now, I’m going to kill you.” He stepped over Sebastian’s feet as the stud’s heels gouged the carpet. “Does that answer your question?”
It came up from somewhere deep below Lorq’s gut, moored among yesterdays. Bliss made his awareness of its shape and outline precise and luminous. Something inside him shook. From the hammock of his pelvis it clawed into his belly, vaulted his chest and wove wildly, erupted from his face; Lorq bellowed. In the sharp peripheral awareness of the drug, he saw the Mouse’s syrynx where it had been left on the stage. He snatched it up—
“No, Captain!”
– as Prince lunged. Lorq ducked with the instrument against his chest. He twisted the intensity knob.
The edge of Prince’s hand shattered the doorjamb (where a moment before the Mouse had leaned). Splinters split four and five feet up the shaft.
“Captain, that’s my …!”
The Mouse leaped, and Lorq struck him with his flat hand. The Mouse staggered backward and fell in the sand-pool.
Lorq dodged sideways and whirled to face the door as Prince, still smiling, stepped away.
Then Lorq struck the tuning haft.
A flash.
It was reflection from Prince’s vest; the beam was tight. Prince flung his hand up to his eyes. Then he shook his head, blinking.
Lorq struck the syrynx again.
Prince clutched his eyes, stepped back, and screeched.
Lorq’s fingers tore at the sound-projection strings. Though the beam was directional, the echo roared about the room, drowning the scream. Lorq’s head jarred under the sound. But he beat the sounding board again. And again. With each sweep of his hand, Prince reeled back. He tripped on Sebastian’s feet, but did not fall. And again. Lorq’s own head ached. That part of his mind still aloof from the rage thought: his middle ear must have ruptured. … Then the rage climbed higher in his brain. There was no part of him separate from it.
And again.
Prince’s arms flailed about his head. His ungloved hand struck one of the suspended shelves. The statuette fell.
Furious, Lorq smashed at the olfactory plate.
An acrid stench burned his own nostrils, seared the roof of his nasal cavity so that his eyes teared.
Prince screamed, staggered; his gloved fist hit the plate glass. It cracked from floor to ceiling.
With blurred and burning eyes, Lorq stalked him.
Now Prince struck both fists against the glass; glass exploded. Fragments rang on the floor and the rock.
“No!” from Ruby. Her hands were over her face.
Prince lurched outside.
Heat slapped at Lorq’s face. But he followed.
Prince wove and stumbled down toward the glow of Gold. Lorq crab-walked the jagged slope.
And struck.
Light whipped Prince. He must have regained some of his vision, because he clawed at his eyes again. He went down on one knee.
Lorq staggered. His shoulder scraped hot rock. He was already slicked with sweat. It trickled his forehead, banked in his eyebrows, poured through at the scar. He took six steps. With each he struck light brighter than Gold, sound louder than the lava’s roar, odor sharper than the sulfur fumes that rasped his throat. His rage was real and red and brighter than Gold. “Vermin … Devil … Dirt!”
Prince fell just as Lorq reached him. His bare hand leaped about the scalding stone. His head came up. His arms and face had been cut by falling glass. His mouth was opening and closing like a fish. His blind eyes blinked and wrinkled and opened again.
Lorq swung his foot back, smashed at the gasping face. …
And it was spent.
He sucked hot gas. His eyes raged with heat. He turned, arms slipping against his sides. The ground tilted suddenly. The black crust opened and heat struck him back. He staggered up between the pitted crags. The lights of Taafite quivered behind shaking veils. He shook his head. His thoughts reeled about the burning cage of bone. He was coughing; the sound was a distant bellow. And he had dropped the syrynx …
…she cleared between the jagged edges.
Cool touched his face, seeped into his lungs. Lorq pulled himself erect. She stared at him. Her lips fluttered before no word. Lorq stepped toward her.
She raised her hand (he thought she was going to strike him. And he did not care) and touched his corded neck.
Her throat quivered.
Lorq looked over her face, her hair, twisted about a silver comb. In the flicker of Gold her skin was the color of a velvet nut-hull; her eyes were kohled wide over prominent cheekbones. But her magnificence was in the slight tilt of her chin, the expression on her copper mouth, caught between a terrifying smile and resignation to something ineffably sad; in the curve of her fingers against her throat.