CHAPTER III


CHIEF GUILLEN ENTERTAINS

The dagger came to rest half a fingernail from his face,
trembling in the wood panel like a needle sculptured from
ice floe. Trajan clasped his left cheek. There was no blood
and in a moment the sting and the mark would disappear. He
felt a stab of shame that he had not been fast enough.

The enormous hall was suddenly suffused with a fierce glare
and through shafts of radiance slanting from the ceiling a
tall figure manifested himself and advanced with no-nonsense
briskness of authority. Trajan immediately stiffened to
attention. "Chief Guillen."

Commander-in-Chief Guillen closed his hand around the hilt
of the dagger and looked hard at his Captain. "I see no cut
only a faint mark. Do you know what this means, Captain
Schurell?"

"I am not in form, I suppose," Trajan said humbly.

Chief Guillen frowned, his darkgrey on light-blue eyes as
sharp as the glinting blade in his hand. "You have put
yourself in danger unnecessarily. Your aural sensors lie
dormant because you thought it was safe to enter my
chambers. Am I not right that you have already broken the
first rule of self-preservation, you have lowered your
guard, you have allowed self-satisfaction to take hold of
you. You are faulty, Captain!"

"And you are not really angry."

"And I hate the way you can so easily see through the true
state of my mind. Don't you have respect for your Chief?"

"Chief, I am at your disposal."

Chief Guillen softened his severe face with a smile. "At
ease now, Captain, are you well? I must say that you look
fit in spite of what I have heard you've gone through. You
have come out of it with full marks, but you have a problem
there. You were able to retract only just in time, but you
heard the swish of the dagger a tiny fraction of a second
too late, and only just in time is not damn well good
enough!"

"Chief, I will enter the retraining program."

Guillen countered gruffly: "I have already arranged it for
you. Come, I'll take you to your quarters."

Trajan considered such foresight of his decline in vigilance
was a bit demeaning but he thought it wise not to argue. A
Calidan born and bred, Chief Guillen possessed the sturdy
and sinewy physique and the rugged humour of his people.
Already renowned for his sense of foresight, epochs of
taking charge of the Spacio Command's outer borders
operations had sharpened the Chief's percipience to nearly
infallible judgment. To his commanders he was the epitome of
Supreme Larship and the Tres-Tiorem respected him highly.

Trajan discovered with great surprise in the afternoon that
Chief Guillen had taken personal charge of his retraining
program. He felt his blood warming in his veins and his
nerves and sinews tingling with anticipation as he faced the
Chief as sole opponent across the practice ground in a
hand-to-nerve exercise. The Chief had the reputation of
being a merciless instructor. This afternoon he scored a new
level in his record and emerged as the ultimate taskmaster
and tormentor.

"You're much too clumsy with your knee and your fist, boy. A
quick and combined thrust like this. See? Ramming it into a
nerve, in this way. And watch your ankle, don't expose it
like that. An improper posture and you are liable to be
floored like this. Look your opponent in the eye while you
speculate what his next move could be. You should be better
than most people in the art of forestalling but not good
enough, I gather, look, now I am the one who has forestalled
you!"

"You obviously think that I deserve this," Trajan
complained, panting heavily.

His Chief's sharp eyes drilled him with such determination
that Trajan looked aside embarrassed.

"You are good, Captain, but merely good is not good enough
if you want to go into the unknown which lies beyond
Iucari-Tres. You must be the best, faultless in every
respect, second to none, and I am giving you the best of my
experience and my skills even though I doubt whether that is
enough. I have to keep my promise to your father, Trajan.
Let it not be said of me that I have not prepared his son
for the battles still to come."

Without speaking Trajan adjusted the protective blisters
around his vulnerable parts. The next stage of the exercise
would go down in the history of the Command and its academy
as the most brutal confrontation that had ever occurred
between a tutor and his student; he would give the best he
had, and far more, he was ready to beat his old teacher in
the next bout, something he would not even dream of
accomplishing since he had become a cadet.

* * *

Chief Guillen lifted his glass of golden wine against the
soft light, studying its sparkle like some exotic precious
stone. Out of the corner of his watchful eye he observed his
Captain lounging in the most comfortable armchair Trajan
could find in the room, feet stretched out on a low stool.

"I have been pushing you too hard, Trajan. You have barely
recovered from your wounds and here I am, like a butcher,
drilling you to pieces. Is your shoulder still giving you
trouble?"

Trajan rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly. "No, not at all.
It is a bit stiff, nothing that a good exercise can take
care of."

"You get tired easily. Several times you have to pause for
breath, something you can do completely without in the
past."

"Oh well, considering that I have just arrived from a long
journey over the sea and instead of taking a well-earned
rest I had to go straight to the most harrowing practice
training in my life." He grinned. "I am still going to beat
you, Chief."

Guillen shook his head, his face darkening as he swirled his
undrunk wine.

"You have not fully recovered your strength. That is clear,
I have been too severe. Tomorrow I order you to take a day
of rest and physiotherapy. I want you to regain the peak of
your performance, Trajan. It is just as important as your
mental state of fitness."

"My mental state of fitness?"

"Let me put it more subtly. There is a dangerous tendency of
sliding down the path of luxurious complacency. Admit it,
Trajan, you have achieved the goal for which your family,
your grandfather most of all, have so long strived for, and
you are beginning to like it. Threats of unknown forces,
mysteries beyond our star system no longer seem to count. It
is a perilous mood.

"Here you are, a Lar mind you, a Lar Protector administering
great measures of wealth and a huge estate. Nobody would be
able to guess that only a couple of seasons ago you led the
life of a fighting warrior. But the warrior has become the
prince of his lands and nothing else matters any more."

Trajan straightened up and shoved the stool aside. With a
deep frown of uneasiness he walked with hands clenched
inside his pockets towards the other end of the room where
the bay windows stood. From his vantage point he could see
the lights of villas in the valley beneath him, twinkling
like clusters of colourful gemstones imbedded in robes of
white down, resplendent with life, warmth and harmony
amongst the perpetual snow pillars of Mount Argento.

Was it true? Had the laps of comfort and luxury taken the
fight out of the warrior? He remembered the dinner gathering
he had held in his own sumptuous dining-room just a few
nights ago, revered by his guests amidst an atmosphere of
friendship and goodwill. It was an evening he would not want
to forget: Aunt Clarya's trivial gossip, his grandfather's
face flushing with pride, the blossoming affection between
Maea and Terglyn, the grave respect of Eugene Trevarthen--a
king couldn't have asked for more. Sensations of well-being
brought to pass by that memorable evening had worked like a
subtle net pulling tighter and tighter as the days wore on.
Starglory seemed just like a dim spark fading fast in the
tunnel of history.

He felt his Chief's light touch on his shoulder and as he
turned round he could feel Starglory vibrating in the
grooves of his palm like a persistent allergy. Chief Guillen
clasped his shoulders with persuasive authority.

"Maybe I am a bit too harsh on you but I made a promise to
your father. How I wish it could have been otherwise, to see
you instead firmly established in your protectorate, as head
of such an illustrious dominion."

"You knew my father very well, didn't you Chief?"

"He was my friend."

"Did he ever tell you what his objective was in coming and
ultimately staying here, how did he arrive? Who, and what,
was he?"

"Trajan, from the very first moment he reported to me, or
gave himself up in his own words, he was quite candid of
what he was, a being from another realm which he could not
describe without breaking his code of ethics. We accepted
him because of the simple fact that he respected our customs
and had accepted us. At that time his physique in his
present Essence, as he so called it, resembled ours closely
save for some minor differences, of which he took care of
rather effortlessly in the cycles to come. And he was deeply
in love with your mother."

"Would you believe me if I told you that I have found what
he was looking for, that I have accomplished part of his
mission?"

"Yes," Guillen said woefully, "that is why you are here with
me tonight."

"Did he also tell you about the forces of this object he was
searching, the nature of this entity that has now entered
me?"

While they spoke both had not moved from where they stood,
gazing into each other's eyes impassionedly, as if the
secrets they were carrying were too great to just impart in
simple words.

"He told me much about himself and why he was here for, but
on the other hand he told me nothing, what his true purpose
was. That is for you to find out."

Trajan said in a low voice: "Are you aware of what I have
become, what this thing has done to me? If I allow it to go
into my head, I need only to point my finger to beat you on
the exercise ground. It is a frightening thought and there
is no place here for such forces. The longer it stays within
me, the more we will become One. It is only my sense of
right and wrong which prevents me from using it, but for how
long?"

Guillen said firmly: "Your sense of right and wrong will
stand firm because I have drilled that into you! The time
has come to talk about your father, but not tonight. It has
been a long and tiring day. Retire to your room and take a
good rest. Tomorrow morning you will attend your therapy
sessions and we will meet again at dinner. Do as I tell you,
Captain!"

After Trajan had left him, Chief Guillen poured himself
another glassful of wine and settled in his armchair with
brooding melancholy. Trajan, a boy no longer but in so many
ways still a boy, a young Lar who had tasted the sweet fruit
of a rich, fulfilling life and was hurting inside knowing
that life might never be his to lead.

Chief Guillen felt his duty and the promise he had given
pressing heavily upon his heart; he had to prepare Trajan
for the tasks ahead and help him make the correct decision.
Trajan Schurell was destined for remarkable deeds and not a
normal life.

* * *

Trajan tossed about on his bed and could not fall asleep.
His mental processes were pulled again and again to the last
dinner gathering.

"TRAJAN." After dinner Eugene had put a hand on his arm and
drawn him away from the cheerful group around the fireplace.

Trajan had briefly caught Eugene's eye and understood. He
had taken hold of his chamberlain who had been fleeting in
and out the living-room like a merry pronager of a brasserie
and asked him to serve refreshments in the study.

Eugene was suddenly at a loss for words when they were left
in each other's presence in the study. He had first tramped
about the room in distraction as if summoning up his courage
and finally seated himself amongst the cushions on the sofa
nearest to the fireplace. There was nothing wrong with him
physically, but a cloud of worry shadowed his high brow.

"I don't know how to begin, Trajan," he said. "I am very
troubled."

"There is nobody else here than you and me," Trajan
persuaded him gently.

Eugene raised his eyes and threw him a short, intense look.
"I have lost my purpose in life."

It did not come as a definite statement, more like a plea,
and Trajan was amazed. In that moment when Eugene shot to
him that brief and poignant glance, it seemed as if a crack
had appeared in Eugene's mental defences, a slit through
which he could catch a glimpse of the essence of Eugene
Trevarthen. And he was puzzled; he was unable to fathom the
Praecel. There was a jumble of contradictions determining
one side of uprightness and decency, and another, darker
side of anger and resentment, and floating on yet another
plane, transient moods of love and affection. Eugene turned
away to the fire and the moment of revelation was cut
brutally short.

Trajan sat down at the opposite armchair and said carefully:
"Is it a girl, Eugene?"

A spasm of secret sorrow flitted through Eugene's face. "How
perceptive you are, Trajan! Yes, she is one of the reasons
why I wanted to have this private talk. She is a lovely girl
but she is also my conscience. In spite of what people
think, expect, talk of me, I am a shameful failure."

"Eugene," Trajan said, "What happened is not a failure on
your part, just a consequence of a chain of strange events.
Believe me and leave it at that. You should try to put it
completely behind you and start again. Your love for the
girl can help you start afresh."

Eugene's retort was loud and bitter: "You don't understand,
Trajan, maybe never will! The girl is one aspect of my
distress but only a tiny aspect. I only know her innocence
can never become part of me."

"What is it that is holding you back?" Trajan enquired with
growing uneasiness. "Why can't you make a clean breast of it
all. Who, or what, is holding you in such a stranglehold?"

"Myself, Trajan, I am my own worst enemy. But enough of this
talk, we are getting nowhere on this subject. Let us speak
about the girl. I can talk more freely about her. I don't
want to see her harmed but by the cruel hand of destiny she
had been thrown into a company of people I wouldn't want her
to be with least of all. Her name is Eirini Vrillenar, the
only decent element left in my disgrace and I am powerless
to help. I have pressed upon her to come to you if she finds
herself in any kind of difficulty. Help her if she should
come so far, Trajan, I beg of you."

Eugene pushed to his feet and started for the door.

"Do you love her?" Trajan asked.

"Love is no more in me," came the curt answer as Eugene
merged with the shadows in the corridor BEYOND THE STUDY.

* * *

"EUGENE!" he kept calling, "Eugene!"

The tall figure of Eugene Trevarthen was becoming fast an
elongated blotch receding into a tunnel of swirling mist.
Trajan ran after him, running as if his life depended on it,
tumbling through a macroscopic vault spinning with the
crimson, silver and blue-black of colliding and dying
galaxies.

"Eugene?" Was that him? A room where the pungent smell of
antiseptics perpetually pervaded the bloodless tiles. A
horror room of surgery where a body was submerged in a tank,
water splashing on the floor and streaming into corners in
red rivulets and fumes of putrefaction hanging thickly in
the air. The body slowly turned his head in the turbid
water, teeth gleaming in the sickening yellow light and eyes
blazing like exploding rubies. Please, please don't let it
be Eugene.

Someone was tugging at him from behind. A girl, her face
hidden by cascading auburn hair, clawed her fingers around
his arm. Her eyes glittered through that glossy veil with
the brightness of emeralds. Her mouth was wide open with
screams he could not hear. He yelled back at her: "Who are
you? What is going on here!" His eardrums nearly imploded
with the fury of his own frantic shouts.

She changed shape right there and then in front of his
perplexed eyes. Her hair streaming away from her face like
tattered banners at the mercy of a wind, hair paling in
colour and face altering form and substance in simultaneous
rhythm. Her eyes widening, losing colour, glazing, becoming
opaque, a face turning into a blur, a patch of night.

Someone was hoisting up something at the end of a long rope.
Through the haze of drifting strips of fog the face of the
Knell Toller floated into perspective, an oval blank shaping
with each throb of the pulse into distinctive features. Even
with his eyes closed Trajan would recognize that face
anywhere, at any time, even when panic and horror was
distorting it, even when the teeth were bared in savagery
and the eyes WERE INSANE.

* * *

Trajan twisted free, sitting upright in his bed, the name he
had screamed out still warm and twitching on his lips. The
bedsheets were damp with the sweat of his labouring body,
and for prolonged minutes his mind felt like a heavy mass
and his temples were painfully throbbing.

Slowly like waves rippling to the shores, fragments of
reality returned as his nostrils caught the smell of his
sleeping quarters and his skin pimpled in the coolness of
the room. Like one long deprived of sustenance he breathed
in deeply the air mixed with the scent of sandalwood and
fresh linen. He swept the blanket aside and exposed his
aching muscles to the welcome chill. Staring into darkness
he gradually recovered his mental balance although he could
not easily cleanse his mind from the terrible visions of his
dream and that sense of dissociation again.

Trajan stood up and began to dress. The Simu-fire had long
since faded into pinkish floating bubbles, but it was much
colder outside where the night had not yet completed its
cycle into day. He decided to take a walk. A film of frost
coated the lawns surrounding the Physio Resort of the Spacio
Command and the air was nippingly fresh.

Mount Argento protruded in a two-pronged peninsula
southwards into the Greater Odur from the Northern Poles,
and a creative mind had constructed an elevated covered
walkway sailing down from one prong of towering ice
palisades and rotating along the surface of the sea in a
sweeping arc to the other prong. The body of Argento was a
conglomerate of extremes: the face presented a grim skyscape
of sheer snow cliffs, the heart hosted basins teeming with
villages and holiday resorts, the spine soared northwards
into a caudal fin of ragged bluffs, its crown was for all
times stuck in the clouds and its feet immersed in icy
waters.

During his whole service with the Command, Trajan had come
to their mountain resort only once, when he sustained a
minor back injury on one of his patrols around the asteroid
belt. The resort's objective was to render therapy and
rehabilitation training to sick and injured members of the
Command, but it would not with bureaucratic inflexibility
bar the door to civilian members of the public who only
wished to avail themselves of the comforts and the stylish
decors of the resort for a holiday of ski-jetting on the
frozen surface of the sea in times of harsh seasons, or in
milder weather skigliding around the ice pinnacles of Mount
Argento, or just enjoying the cyclorama of the Dancing
Lights of Dawn across the icy sky.

An odd admixture of the perfectly healthy and the nearly
recovered was thus constantly present, never lacking in
camaraderie and cheer, and the resort could by right boast
of full occupancy season after season. Here old friends
would meet or strangers make new companions but Trajan kept
his distance. After his long solitary excursion from prong
to prong which took about three hours even by automated
walkway, he did as ordered, going into his physiotherapy
session, then an afternoon of solo slow-muscle exercise in
the gym and a few hours spent in quick view and target
practice, in the process driving from his mind the terrors
of the night.

The grey sky throughout the day was hanging heavy with snow
and evening came with a veil of snowflakes. Trajan entered
the self-contained chambers of Chief Guillen for his dinner
appointment.

The Chief had a secret passion for cooking, abhorring the
dubious imitations of food modulars, and it was hardly
surprising to know that the various dishes on the table had
been home-cooked with all the diligence and fuss of culinary
obsession. The quality of the taste was however surprising,
a meal prepared by a genius in more ways than one. Trajan's
enthusiasm by which he emptied all the plates was more than
adequate praise for the efforts of his Chief cum Chef.

"So," Guillen said, pleased with the empty plates on the
table, "shall we go to the sitting-room for more
refreshments?"

"Gladly," Trajan said and composed himself at once. The
excellent dinner was only a precursor for other, more
serious, discussions.

It was not in Chief Guillen's character to delay matters,
particularly when they were heavy on his mind, and he came
to the point immediately: "What do you know about your
father?"

Trajan already seated raised his eyes to meet those of the
Chief's across the rim of his glass. "Very little, maybe
more accurately I never really know him. How could I? He was
snatched from me when I was only two cycles old. Of course I
do have memories, vague impressions. I have kept his memory
dear but did he love me? Instead of Adilar, his eldest, he
has given me his task to complete."

"You were always foremost in his mind." Chief Guillen gazed
about the room. The curtains were drawn across the windows
and the Simu-fire gyrated in golden blue fractals under the
shadow of the mantelpiece. Outside, the snow was filling the
valley and carpeting the grounds of the resort.

"It was just on a white evening like this, in Cycle 153 of
Fourth Radix," Guillen began, "after I had my dinner and I
was enjoying, like at this very moment, a full glass of
crystalcrest wine when I heard my front door chimed."

* * *

"KRYSTAN!" I exclaimed, "what a pleasant surprise. Do come
in. What brings you so late in the evening to Mount
Argento?"

He declined to answer but honoured me with his mystifying
smile. His coat was thickly covered with snow and he shook
the flakes off in the front hall with absent-minded
fastidiousness. I thought he was looking a bit weary and
offered to heat up the leftovers of my private dinner. He
was inclined to decline again but I pressed upon him: "I
cook my own meals. Surely you won't let such a rare
opportunity pass you by."

He laughed and he looked like his old self again, vibrant
and filled with good spirits, but a tinge of uneasiness was
never very far away. He took his dinner on his lap on the
very same chair you are sitting now and I toned up the fire
because his hand felt like an icicle when it brushed mine
when taking his plate. Afterwards I refilled his glass and
mine, and he looked quite relaxed and content. Naturally my
invigorating food had done him a world of good but he didn't
linger long to state the purpose of his unexpected visit.

Krystan said: "You already know my story, Berin, why I chose
your star system, and this planet, to settle down."

"You came here on a mission, but a mission that has been
pre-empted, I understand."

"Pre-empted by a will stronger than mine and so it has also
changed the nature of my mission."

We gazed at each other, I in wonder and he in serious
contemplation--how your brother has his eyes!--and I said:
"I am not sure I follow you."

"The quest to find Starglory is ended, it has been found.
But this quest is only the first stage of a long and painful
process."

I looked at him without speaking, without even understanding
what his words meant.

"Yes, it has been found and long before I even managed to
reach your world, but although it has been found, it has not
been Absorbed and it can still fall into the wrong hands. In
its raw state it is an instrument of great doom and only
through Absorption can it be safeguarded."

"There must be something you can do," I persuaded, "you
could--absorb it yourself."

Krystan sighed and smiled a little sadly. "I have my own
Core already. A Peregrinator, a traveller, or Lord Laris as
some people prefer to call us, but in truth, and I reveal
this to you in deepest confidence, a Süryaril, Blood and
Starlight Born, cannot assume control of two Cores at once."

I felt in my guts that something seemed not altogether
right. There were pieces missing in the sequence of time and
place, and I questioned him urgently: "How did you know
Starglory has been found and who found it?"

"I have been informed of it during the first cycle of my
Descent Peregrination into your Iucarian system but I cannot
tell you more, my astute friend, because I am bound by the
Peregrinators' Caelovar's Ethic of Non-Contamination. But I
had to remain because Starglory was still out there, in its
original state and dangerous. And I had other priorities, of
course."

I grinned. "You wedded Norielle Trevarthen, a most lovely
lady."

There appeared a look of such sorrow on his face that for a
moment I thought that I had said the wrong words but Krystan
had immediately recovered himself and said: "Yes, to be with
Norielle always, my dearest lady, but more importantly I
stayed for Trajan.

"Trajan, even so young, has remarkable powers of Noetic
Transmittance which he must learn to suppress before using
them. His education will be vexing and painful but I have a
feeling he will make things right again. If I fail tonight
he must take control of Starglory as its rightful guardian."

I was both dismayed and thunderstruck. "He is but a little
boy, Krystan!" And I added anxiously: "What are you going to
do tonight?"

"What I have to do tonight makes my mission even harder
because Trajan is still a child. Supposing something goes
wrong, what can an untutored child do? But he will reach his
second maturity in less than two epochs of your reckoning."

I put my glass down in great alarm. "By the HeliĆ Krystan,
that is a long time, two epochs! A lot of disastrous things
can happen in the meantime. Is there absolutely nothing you
can do? Where is Starglory now?"

Krystan fixed his eyes on me, bright and so mysterious. He
then spoke, slow and calm, articulating every word, as if to
imprint his message into my mind.

"Tonight I will try to bring my mission to a close, with the
aid of Starglory preferably but if that is not possible with
the aid of my Core. Then I will be free of my obligations
and can choose to become entirely Iucarian and remain in
your realm. Then it does not matter who possesses Starglory
at the moment. But the face of the future is dark, the
wounds inflicted deep and festering. Two cannot become One
with mere words of persuasion. I am daunted by the burden of
this task.

"Berin, I cannot foretell what will happen if I fail, but
you will have a period of two epochs during which time you
can train and steel Trajan into a commander of the
Interplanetary Spacio Command. His destiny can be no other.
Promise me that if something happens to me, Berin, that you
will be personally involved in his education, that you will
teach him all your knowledge and your skills, and mould him
into a warrior, not just for the sake of slaying enemies but
for the sake of defending and fighting for what he thinks is
right. Teach him to know what is right and what is wrong
according to your Iucarian principles which are one of the
highest although you have your frailties too. Teach him to
distinguish between friendship and treachery. Above all,
strengthened his spirit with the honour of your species.
Teach him never to use the powers that he may develop until
he can control them. When he has reached his second maturity
give him this sealed note that will tell him the Custodian's
name and when he finds Starglory he will also find himself.

"I have sent a message and tonight I will make contact, but
there are others who are watching me."

I became very uneasy and urged him to elaborate what he
precisely had in mind, whom he was meeting on that cold and
dark night and whether he needed protection from the
Command, or at least an escort to guide him to the point of
rendezvous in the thickly falling snow.

"No, Berin," he said gently, "I have to do this without your
involvement. This is a matter between him and me. Berin,
what I have told you cannot be imparted to your authorities.
Promise me also to keep it a secret forever, and only Trajan
is to be told, and not until the time is ripe. Don't forget
me and take care of Trajan, for the sake of our friendship."

"I promise," I said frantically, "but what then, what will
happen if Trajan finds Starglory?"

"His decision will be equally hard for if I fail tonight he
must continue where I have left off, and he may not know
what to do."

"Give me an indication!" I cried out to him. "Guidance of
some sort! What do I tell him when the time comes?"

"Tell him to retrace the path of Starglory's coming into
Iucari-Tres. You can only guide him, Berin, but he must make
the decision on his own."

"As Lord Laris, or Traveller," I said deeply distressed,
"you must be capable of great powers yourself. You can
prevent catastrophe. Yet, you choose not to do so."

"Berin," he replied gently, "a Lord Laris can never enforce,
only guide, but experience have taught us that by guiding we
can also instil corruption. The means of our Power is far
more tempting than its purpose. And I fear Iucari-Tres has
also been contaminated. No, when I come back I will come
back unelevated, an ordinary being like you. That is my
ultimate wish. Wish me luck."

I wished him good luck, with all the warmth and friendship I
was feeling for him, but there was such an expression of
infinite sadness on his noble face. A premonition? Because
that night WAS THE LAST I SAW OF HIM.

* * *

"It couldn't have been Dama Lisaloran he was meeting,"
Trajan said, unsealing the note.

"Definitely not," the Chief said softly, observing how the
Captain's eyes grew misty as he read the note, "it was a
'he' he was speaking about, someone more of his own calibre
I would think than a wandering lovesick Praecel Dama."

"If Dama Lisaloran pushed him over the cliff before he could
make his appointment then the meeting never took place."

"We don't know, Trajan, if the accident happened before or
after his appointed meeting. It could have been well after
because nobody came forward to report him missing, or it
might well be that they wanted to keep the meeting a
complete secret. I did send out a search party when he
failed to turn up in the morning but traces of frozen blood
along the glacier slope of a deep abyss were all we were
able to find and we feared the worst. I called off the
search party for, as you well know, the depths of Mount
Argento are too treacherous and I couldn't risk other
people's lives."

The Simu-Fire crackled with the merry voice of real wood and
for moments it was the only sound to be heard in the hushed
room.

"My great-grandfather," Trajan said after a long pause, "Lar
Irwain, was he a Lord Laris too, or Starlight Born? Did he
also come from an unknown Beyond. 'I brought you here,'
Starglory seemed to have imparted to him."

"The only positive thing we know of your great-grandfather,
Trajan, is that he was the sole survivor of Aberon and as
you are aware, it is difficult to retrace his history from
that point in time. He might be a lucky Aberonian but he
could also be Someone Else. The people remember him as a
great Lar and a magnificent administrator, revered by the
Tres-Tiorem. He almost became a chancellor of the
Tres-Tiorem but that's another story. In short, Trajan, the
subject of Lar Irwain is a very delicate one. Unless--"

Guillen studied the Captain with glinting eyes. "You want to
make sure who is buried in the Trevarthen Mausoleum. His
purported disappearance and then, the finding of his remains
on Evening Star seems to me an extraordinary sequence of
events. No other Noble House than the Trevarthens has such a
complex history, but the only one who can order an
exhumation is your grandfather, the older surviving son."

"Then it is a definite no, Chief. I don't want to burden
Grandfather with more heartache such as this. Lar Irwain is
dead and buried, let's leave it at that."

Guillen went on gravely, "When I read your report I realized
it was rather Starglory, assumed to be the Hexstone, who
found you. What happened when you stood before it. Did you
find your true self as your father had predicted?"

"Well," Trajan said, scratching his head, "not in such a
prophetic sense. I certainly didn't know what I'd come up
against, a thing that was spitting light with such fury. It
was drawing me like a magnet. Something in my
subconsciousness seemed to recognize it and it certainly
recognized me. Lar Wryn, as he lay dying on the floor, said
to me that the Hexstone was not evil, that it was only
defending itself. It wanted no one else, only someone
special, a leader to be one with. It wanted me and in a
bizarre way I allowed it to come into me and the next moment
the danger had passed. On the surface you are unable to tell
that I have changed but I have and I am changing still into
what I still do not understand."

"Do you know what you have to do, Captain?"

"I now have a hint but I fear to take that course."

"Before you make a decision let me tell you something. This
invisible invasion which has occurred right under our noses,
almost successfully with the collaboration of fellow
Iucarians, is like a poisonous dagger thrust into our
hearts. There is a painful lesson to be learned from this.
We can no longer assume ourselves absolutely safe from
intrusions. There are means other than physically breaching
our spatial borders for invaders to take us by surprise
because the greatest danger lies within. The disaster in
Myaron was a bitter lesson but at least it has made the
Tres-Tiorem come round to view things from my perspective,
to lift the moratorium imposed on star exploration."

"We are going to venture outside the asteroid zone?"

"Not immediately but we will in the near future. To explore
is a means to study the unknown and by doing that we will
also learn how to counter threats posed against our
civilization. The mere contentment of being highly evolved
and scientifically advanced leads to stagnation which can
become a disease, and explorations will hopefully open the
mind. The other phenomenal change in policy is that the
Spacio Command will come under the sole ruling of the
Tres-Tiorem and no longer be subjected to planetary
authorities. Maybe for the Federation of Calitre it won't
make so much difference but it will make a lot of people
unhappy in Phylee-Patre because nearly all of the commanders
are Phycels. And what's more, we are going to consider
establishing a Ground and Sea Command to complement the
Spacio Command."

In these changing times we will have need of your expertise
and your unique status, Trajan. In other words, you could be
a stabilizing force but now that you have absorbed Starglory
you have also become the Someone Else your father was, and
if I understand his words right, he wants you to take
Starglory back to its source, meaning you have to leave
Iucari-Tres. Do you know the way to that source, Captain?"

"Yes, Chief," Trajan said, gazing at the note in his hand.
"I think I do."

"Once there your task will be to destroy the Other End of
the Equation. Do you want to go, Trajan?"

"Are you ordering me to go, Chief?"

"If a vast enemy fleet were approaching our gates, yes, I
would order you but for now we are still in a stage of
damage control. Not only are people beginning to ask
questions, by and by they will demand more action and more
public knowledge."

Chief Guillen paused and clasping his hands behind his back
he paced the room. He strode to a halt before his Captain.
"When Doctor Reball told you that the Iucarian prototype of
the IsoMén Equation was his design, he was not exactly
telling you the truth."

Aberonian scientists had been experimenting with a device
that they called the Starstream Conduit. Much like the
IsoMén Equation it was a shortcut through time and space but
the device was highly unstable and there had been nasty
accidents, more like mini disasters. The Stewardship then
ordered a halt in experiments. Not long after came the
cataclysm that nearly destroyed a whole planet. We had then
assumed that all plans, blueprints and research material of
the Starstream had been wiped out and we did not make the
connection between the recent spate of so-called natural
disasters and the workings of a Starstream device. It
appears now that some of the data had been downloaded to
other computers off planet when the Stewardship made the
order and the material of a highly classified project had
been revealed to the eyes and minds of other scientists
without the Stewardship's knowledge. It was the
configurations on the parchments that provided Doctor Reball
with the missing elements and his achievement was that he
could combine Starstream and IsoMén and so built a conduit,
an Equation that did work after a fashion but with terrible
side effects."

"It had a faulty Soul," Trajan said and suddenly felt as if
a brilliant light was turned on in his mind. Starglory and
the parchments came from the same source. Crossing into the
other Sphere he would find the designer of the IsoMén
Equation and the thought filled him with the same wrenching
emotions as when the Equation diagrams first came into his
hands.

"Trajan, what is the matter?"

Trajan wiped a hand over his eyes. "Nothing, Chief, the
night is late, I suppose."

Chief Guillen agreed. Trajan was not able to make a decision
but there was still plenty of time.

"All right," he told his Captain briskly, "Go to bed, and we
will restart our exercises tomorrow morning. And I expect
only your true physical self standing opposite me. No fancy
things of the psyche or high-flown mysterious forces, if you
please."

"Granted, Chief," Trajan said smilingly, putting Krystan's
note in his pocket, "I am looking forward to the exercises."