There was a murmur of fear from among the captives. The cruiser had been unlit; had been like a giant beetle, whirring across the sky. A dark, malignant thing, heavy with threat.
"Go!" Ben said, turning to her again, and shooing her away. "For God's sake get out of sight! It'll be back any moment!"
This time she went, crouching between the sloping walls, halfway down the cobbled ramp, the dark edge of the river only yards below. But what about Ben? What was he going to try? To bargain with Virtanen? To make him confess to what he'd done?
Madness, she thought, not for the first time that day. Ail of this is madness. Our lives are in danger, and all because my brother wants excitement!
It was not strictly true. Virtanen had started this. But Ben could have wrapped things up much quicker if he'd wanted. If what she suspected were true, he had gotten his evidence against Virtanen long ago. All this was simply games.
The murmur of the cruiser's engines had faded, now it came back, stronger than before, and, from the disturbance of the water below her, she could tell that it was hovering out there, above the river.
Slowly she crept up the ramp again, until she could poke her head above the brickwork and look across.
The captives were still there, huddled together tightly now, every head turned to face the threat of the cruiser. All about them, the morph-sailors stood impassively, their weapons raised, their faces vacant.
There was no sign of Ben.
She turned her head, trying to make out the cruiser. At first she couldn't see it, then, with a suddenness that surprised her, it turned its searchlight full on, the beam's brilliance startling her, making the captives cry out with fear.
For a moment everything seemed superreal, picked out in stark relief, heavy with shadow.
"Shepherd!" a voice boomed down. "Ben Shepherd! Are you there?"
Don't answer, she pleaded silently, staring across at the cruiser as if mesmerized. For God's sake, Ben, don't answer.
"I'm here, Major Virtanen!" came a voice from the far side of the river. "Down here at the water's edge!"
She watched, her heart hammering, as the cruiser slowly turned, its lamps sweeping across her and out, searching the far bank. And as it did, she noticed a tiny speck—one of Ben's remotes?—float up, away from the passageway beside the Customs House, lifting rapidly toward the hovering cruiser.
Slowly the cruiser turned back, the brilliant light from its searchlight scouring the quayside. "Why the games?" the voice asked from within that glare. "We came to help you, Shepherd. To save you from the raft-men."
There was a moment's silence, a moment's utter stillness, and then laughter. Laughter that grew in volume until it seemed to fill the Domain, echoing back and forth between the hills. Ben's laughter.
The detonation was unexpected. She felt herself thrown back; found herself rolling, tumbling down the slope until she hit the coldness of the water. Heat... the air had been full of heat. And the light. For the briefest moment the light had intensified, as if...
Her ears were ringing. She sat there, waist deep in the water, and understood. Virtanen had fired a missile.
And Ben? Where was Ben?
She pulled herself up and hurried up the slope. Through the swirl of smoke she could see that the quayside was a ruin, as if a great chunk had been bitten from the stone. Beyond that, where the captives had been, was nothing. Nothing but a charred depression. She stared at it, numbed, then sank down, her knees giving way beneath her.
"God help us. . ."
Smoke swirled in the beams of the cruiser's lights. From the darkness beyond that great circle of light, a figure emerged, moving slowly through the veils of smoke until it stood there, at the center of the charred and smoking depression, its arms and legs, its chest and head, encased in shimmering silver. It was Ben, the rocket launcher held loosely in his artificial hand, as if it weighed less than an old man's cane.
No.' she wanted to scream, but her mouth was dry, her throat constricted with fear. No! She could barely look she was so afraid for him.
"Virtanen!" Ben called, his voice cold, unlike she had ever heard it before. "Why don't you come down here and face me? Or are you afraid of that? Do you always prefer to kill people without warning?"
There was silence, and then a background muttering, which cut out quickly.
"Rockets not working?" Ben inquired, coming forward a few paces, and hefting the launcher. "I wonder why that is?"
From the craft there was silence. A heavy, brooding silence.
Ben was looking down, studying the launcher, then, slowly, almost lovingly, he lifted it to his shoulder, eyeing along the sights. "It's a little trick of mine. Or should I say ours. You see, we Shepherds have been expecting this for years now. Preparing for some evil-minded bastard like you to come along."
Meg stood, knowing what he was about to do, knowing also that even if it were justified, it was wrong to do it this way. Trying to keep calm, she began to walk toward him.
"Ben! You can't!"
"Stay there," he said, raising a hand to stop her. "I wasn't going to do this. But the bastard killed her. Without a moment's thought. He just went and killed her."
She stood there, in the shadows, looking across at him, surprised by the intensity of emotion in his voice. It was as if Virtanen had killed the real Catherine. As if...
She licked at her lips, then spoke again, trying to keep her fear for him out of her voice; to bring him back from the darkness where he suddenly was. "Maybe so, Ben, but this isn't right. Let Li Yuan sort this out. Let him make the decision."
He looked at her, meeting her eyes in a long, clear gaze, then returned his left eye to the sight, tilting the mouth of the launcher up toward the cruiser.
"Be-enn!!"
The explosion knocked her off her feet, throwing her back against the low wall that surrounded the ferry ramp. No, she kept thinking as she lay there. No, it wasn't the way. But in that last clear meeting of their eyes she had understood. He was mad. Her brother Ben was mad.
PART 3 SUMMER 2210
The Coast of Darkness
Thither he plies
Undaunted, to meet there whatever Power Or Spirit of the nethermost Abyss Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies Bordering on light; when straight behold the throne Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread Wide on the wasteful Deep! With him enthroned Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things, The consort of his reign; and by them stood Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name Of Demogorgon; Rumour next, and Chance, And Tumult, and Confusion, all embroiled And Discord with a thousand various mouths.
—John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book II [^954-67]
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Circles of Light
IT WAS DAWN in Kamak and Wang Sau-leyan, T'ang, mler of City Africa, stood on the broad and deeply shadowed balcony, his back to his two companions, looking out across the wide, slow river toward the Valley of the Kings. Early sunlight lay like a stain on the clifrtops opposite, a band of reddish-gold atop the blackness below. To the south lay Luxor, ancient Thebes. There the City began again, its walls, smooth white cliffs of ice, lifting two li into the morning sky. On the river a bird circled low above the surface, dark against the dark, then dropped soundlessly into the water.
Wang Sau-leyan turned, leaning lazily against the rail. Chi Hsing, T'ang of the Australias, was to his right, staring downriver toward the City. Hou Tung-po, T'ang of South America, stood in the arched doorway, looking back at him, smiling. They had been talking all night, but now it was done; the matter agreed among them. Tomorrow they would begin their campaign.