The window was empty. But he had seen Kullervo: Kullervo. Kullervo was here. He bit his lip to keep himself from shouting out the name, interrupting the pattern again, inexcusably. He forced his emotions back under control, recognizing the significance of the pattern, the importance of not breaking the surface tension of the group’s concentration…. Holding to his own place in the ritual, while at the same time his mind scattered clues like gaming pieces and read their pattern…. Kullervo had been here tonight; had been here before, disguised. But Kullervo was in the Brotherhood… Survey corrupted by the power of knowledge, using its secrets and its influence to destabilize and poison societies, feeding off the chaos they created, profiting off of it. The ones who had turned the values and beliefs of the guild’s original members inside out … who had murdered his brothers, and tried to keep him from returning to Tiamat.
Why had Kullervo come here tonight, and deliberately—he was sure of it—tried to attract his attention? He remembered the vial on the mantel suddenly. Even if Kullervo had not put it there, he had made Gundhalinu notice it. Why? Kullervo worked for the Brotherhood; Kullervo was a bioengineering genius, who knew more about technovirals than any living human being in the Hegemony….
And suddenly he understood: It was about the water of life. The Brotherhood was already at work here, insinuating itself into the fabric of the new society, as if he had set up no safeguards at all to prevent it. They wanted the water of life for themselves… . and Reede Kullervo was here to give it to them.
But then, what had Kullervo been doing here tonight? Spying, possibly; gathering data on the strength and organization of his enemies. Except that he seemed to have been deliberately drawing attention to himself, intentionally placing clues in the path of the one person who would understand them… .
The gaming pieces rattled for the final response; Gundhalinu stared at the element that completed the pattern, the forms which he had graven on his mind.
“Are there any questions which must be asked to be answered?” Kitaro murmured, glancing around the circle of pensive faces.
“Yes,” Gundhalinu said. “There was a man here tonight, passing as one of us. I just realized who he is. He’s one of the Brotherhood—the man who stole the stardrive from me at Fire Lake. His name is Reede Kulleva Kullervo.”
Vhanu started, across the table from him. “The Smith?” he murmured. “Ye gods—they say the Smith’s responsible for everything from the illegal stardrive market to half the drug trade coming out of Ondinee. He’s linked to Thanm Jaakola—”
Gundhalinu stiffened. “I hadn’t heard that. For how long?”
“Since the stardrive incident,” Vhanu said.
Gundhalinu grimaced, and frowned. “Vhanu, you have scanner data on his bionomes. … I had him investigated through official channels once; what I got didn’t satisfy me. I would like to put our resources to work on revealing who and what he really is. I think it could be vital to us to know exactly what he wants.”
“Let the Police pick him up, then, BZ,” Vhanu said with sudden eagerness. “Deactivate him, put him through deep questioning. Gods, to capture the Smith! It would be a phenomenal victory for us—for the Golden Mean.”
“No,” Gundhalinu said, filled with sudden repugnance. Vhanu stared at him. “No, NR,” he said again, less abruptly, and shook his head. “I think … I think the consequences would be too unpredictable.” Because Kullervo was too unpredictable. He tried to imagine the effect deep questioning would have on Kullervo’s unstable personality. It could easily cause him to have a complete breakdown. He wasn’t even sure exactly why that mattered te him, after what Kullervo had done to him at Fire Lake. Only that he wanted that mind intact … and, perversely, the soul of the man it was attached to. “We’re better off just watching him discreetly, now that we know he’s here; seeing where he leads us. There’s time enough to short-circuit him, if that becomes necessary. He isn’t going anywhere. I’m sure of that much.”
Vhanu nodded reluctantly.
“We’ll run a search on him, then,” Kitaro said. “As soon as possible.” Gundhalinu nodded, barely listening as the next question was brought up by Abbidoes… as his mind sank into memories of Reede Kullervo, the mystery, the contradictions of the man. Realizing suddenly how deep his need to have the answers was… how deep his need to see Kullervo again, and confront him, really ran. The pattern between them was incomplete: they had unfinished business….
TIAMAT: Carbuncle
Sparks Dawntreader entered Tor Starhiker’s new gaming club, feeling an unnerving flicker of déjà vu. Nothing had changed. His memories told him so, even though his eyes said that this club did not really resemble anything he had seen in the old days, when he had roamed the Street with a bottomless credit rating, playing the decadent jade as if his life depended on it; secretly Starbuck, sniffing out information to help Arienrhod keep on top of the offworlders.
But the feel was right; his inner eye knew this place. Tor Starhiker had once run the best club on the Street, and she had the best club now, even it was only by default. He saw her across the room—recognizable, at least, not transformed completely as she had been in the old days. Then she had been decorated like a puppet, to suit the bizarre fantasies of the offworlder who had really owned the club, the living nightmare they had called the Source.
Tor lifted a hand, acknowledging him. He nodded, but stayed where he was. He had not wanted to come here, had told himself he would not come… . But still, like a man sliding helplessly down a muddy slope, he had found himself stepping through the doorway….
“Hello, Sparks.” A hand took hold of his arm, drawing him around.
“Emerine,” he said, only half surprised. She smiled at him, and he saw the age lines that bracketed her full-lipped mouth deepen. He hadn’t looked at her closely in a long time—the changes in her face were startling; unlike the changes in his own, which had crept up on him day by day over the years. But she was still a beautiful woman, with her hair dark and long, her eyes the color of the sea. “All alone—?” she said, with gentle reprimand. “Join us, and you won’t be.” She drew him after her.
He followed her willingly across the room to the secluded corner where Kirard Set Wayaways and half a dozen of his other friends from the old days were sitting He noticed without really thinking about it that Kirard Set’s wife was not among them.
He sat down with them, feeling his sense of having slipped outside of time deepen as he sank under the weight of their welcoming hands, the spell of the hypnotically strobing lights and bizarre sound effects of the games that were the backdrop to their spoken greetings.
“Have some of this.” Kirard Set pushed a bottle of tlaloc at him, and a cup. “A survivor of the time before, just like we are. Hard to believe, isn’t it?” He gestured, filling the air with a cloud of cinnamon-scented smoke. “Seems just like old times… .” His smile turned rueful, and genuine. “I feel young again—reborn. Gods, I never realized how miserable I was, lost in the void, until now, when I have something to look forward to again besides my own death.”
“Yes ” Sparks nodded, feeling an unexpected pang of empathy as he echoed the murmured sentiments of the others around the table. He sipped the tlaloc, its bittersweetness vaporizing as it touched his tongue, filling his head, matching his mood. He sighed.
“Tor Starhiker has done all right for herself, for a common deckhand, I must say.” Kirard Set raised his head again, looking away into the room. “She’s made good use of the Queen’s favor, and a certain native shrewdness.” He rested his chin on his palm.