CHAPTER VIII


TRAJAN'S FOLLY




	With his good looks, refined manners and keen eyes Arthvirian Terglyn could easily pass 
himself off as a Praecel.  The citron-yellow tint of his Insta-fund slip, in contrast with carmine 
gold, however would deny him certain privileges in travellers' and entertainment houses.  On the 
other hand, as Commander he was afforded the same comforts and luxuries as his Captain, no 
questions asked.  In the end, from whichever angle one would consider Sergeant Terglyn's 
dilemma he came up brighter than most.  

	The passing of the previous night was an affair of the macabre cold with angry dry winds 
without the moistening reassurance of snow as one would expect at this time of the Small 
Eclipse.  The streak of early dawn was like a skeletal finger creeping along the persistent sable of 
the night, and when at last day emerged from the long and dark chill it did so with a face of 
disease.  

	Terglyn turned up the collar of his coat as he stood beside his SpanRacer and waited for 
his Captain.  Energy was partially restored in Larkae and he had acquired the booster needed to 
magnify the pulsers guiding the half-crippled Affra over the ground surface into town.  

	He was the only person out on the sidewalk, the other denizens of Larkae preferring the 
half-warmth of their villas than the cutting cold on the streets.  Looking up at the sky, Terglyn 
stamped, first his left, then his right foot on the frosted pavement.  He hoped it would be snowing 
soon.  Born and bred in the tropical coastal lands of Estelmar he nevertheless adored the sight of 
first snow, the crisp scent of the first wintry fluffs swooning down from the sky. 

	The grey of the sky turned a deeper shade when the Affra wobbled around a corner and 
with a few jerks swayed to a halt behind the SpanRacer.  Terglyn walked across and with arms 
akimbo inspected the ruin, shaking his head.  The Sergeant also observed his Captain had 
experienced a tough glide into Larkae with cold winds buffeting through the gaping windows 
and looked as if he was in desperate need of warmth.  Like Terglyn before, Trajan stamped his 
feet on the pavement, flapped his arms against his sides, cursing loudly. 

	"Come inside the House, Captain," Terglyn urged, "I have already asked the pronager to 
prepare some warm drinks." 

	It was only after he had guzzled several cups of fuming herb concoctions and tumblers of 
strong mindopeners that Trajan was able to stop his shivering.  He felt the urgency to move fast 
and enquired of the pronager whether the communication centres were functioning to which the 
pronager of the Travellers' House replied that even though Larkae was still limping to complete 
recovery, there should be no problem in getting connection to the outside world through the 
Information Exchange.  He added with a flourish of the hand that even some of the art and craft 
shops would be open if the commanders were so inclined as to buy a souvenir or two for family 
and friends, to which Trajan replied that he would certainly go and browse the artistic products 
of Castelmoer.  If time would permit.  

	"I am bothered by something I can't put my finger on for the moment," Trajan confided 
in Terglyn as they drove in the SpanRacer to the Exchange.  "While I try to get through to 
Myaron, could you go through the logs and find out whether Larkae has suffered a similar 
blackout in the past.  Go as far back as seven cycles."

	Trajan took his seat before the SpanRacer's microcom while Terglyn went into the 
Exchange.  Through the Stewardship's secure channel it took him only a few minutes to connect 
with Wryn Manor

	"How are you, Doctor?" Trajan asked as a cautious opener when Doctor Reball appeared 
on the screen, looking sedate, healthier and fuller in the face than when he last saw the scientist.  

	"I am doing fine, my boy," the Doctor replied, putting a glass of juice on a side table, 
"and I must say you're looking well too."  

	"Is Lar Wryn treating you all right?" 

	The Doctor wiggled his neck and gave a brief grin.  "I have no complaints.  Young Rylan 
is an excellent host and I have a whole pavilion to myself, and a little patch of garden too."  

	Trajan took a thoughtful pause before he continued, "I hope the Board of Stewards 
wasn't too harsh in their investigation."  

	Doctor Reball heaved a sigh and with a napkin brushed off some lingering cookie crumbs 
from his shirt.  "Not at all.  I was actually somewhat surprised by their leniency.  Of course there 
are certain restrictions.  Although I am not actually under house arrest I may not leave Myaron 
without their permission.  I had put in a request to return to Orbit Base CI-ô, but it seemed they 
want me stay here and help rebuild the principality.  All in all, I am not unhappy and I have made 
good friends within the inventors' community in Myarvil." He took a sidelong look from the 
screen.  "But I gather the prime reason for contacting me is not for news of my new social 
activities."

	"No, Doctor, my prime reason is to gather information about the project of the Starstream 
Conduit." 

	The Doctor looked as if a rotten egg had landed on him.  "I don't think I can help you 
there, Captain.  There were mixed reactions when the Stewardship shut the project down, but I 
for one was glad that they did so because there was more grief than joy coming from that project.  
Of course there were scientists who continued their research in secret and I was one of them.  
The diagrams in the old parchments provided a more solid structure of Equation Dynamics, an 
Equation of time and space.  Even so, it was not perfect." 

	"Was Professor Moritz one of the scientists who continued the Starstream research?"

	"Professor Moritz?"  Doctor Reball narrowed his eyes.  Of course, my erstwhile brilliant 
young colleague!  We don't often see eye to eye I must confess.  We fell out before his tragic 
accident." 

	"I was told that you consulted him on the diagrams of the parchments." 

	Doctor Reball scraped his throat.  "Yes, he was an expert Complexor of computer 
language and I wanted to hear his second opinion."  

	"An opinion that obviously didn't sit well with you since you didn't part with him on the 
best terms."  

	Doctor Reball heaved a weary sigh.  "I was convinced at the time that Body and Soul of 
the IsoMén Equation would work together perfectly to open a portal, not a conduit, but a portal 
but he clung to his belief that to open a portal you need a conduit and an equilibrator to stabilize 
the Equation.  I thought at the time that such a stabilizer was superfluous and that the parchments 
had made no mention of it.  Maybe he was a genius after all or that he must have some inside 
knowledge no one else had.  

	"Yes, he was a genius and he knew too much and thought he could accomplish something 
no one else could." Trajan told the Doctor in succinct terms what had brought about Professor 
Moritz's accident and Doctor Reball was horrified.  

	"He tried to manufacture an experimental device of the IsoMén Equation!  I did think that 
he was sometimes reckless, highly intelligent yes, but confoundedly reckless! And why was 
there never an enquiry initiated into his accident?"

	"It occurred on the private grounds of the Dama Protector at that time and while it was a 
tragedy for the family it was generally regarded as an experiment which had just gone 
disastrously wrong.  Doctor Reball, I must know how the parchments came into Byrull's hands.  
You said he never told you about it but in your capacity you can make enquiries, find out who 
had the parchments in the first place." 

	"I have been asking myself the same question. Although it is hardly relevant now, I am 
curious nonetheless, you know.  And one day talking to Lar Wryn's mother going over past 
events, I stumbled upon the truth."

	Trajan frowned and bit his lip. 

	"It was Dama Lisaloran who gave the parchments to Byrull in the first place.  When the 
remains of Lar Irwain Trevarthen was brought back to Trevarthen Hall for entombment in the 
family vault she went through what was left of him and found the parchments inside the clothing 
in which he was first buried on Evening Star.  She must have her own reasons to commit 
desecration on the remains of a noble Lar but he left no letter or explanations how he had come 
by them.  Or presumably, he always had the parchments but told no one about it, a secret that he, 
as sole survivor of Aberon, took to his grave in the hope no one would ever know, and no one 
would have known but for the Dama."  

	"So it leads back to the Dama who thought herself above others and the Phycel who 
aspired to be emperor."

	Doctor Reball nodded, taking in thoughtfully Trajan's sombre, pondering face.  "There is 
presently a lot of talk, gossip, speculations doing the rounds about this conspiracy starting high 
up in government, even as high as the Tres-Tiorem.  Let me tell you, my boy, it's nothing that 
deep and sinister.  It all boils down to simple greed and ambition.  Dama Lisaloran had the 
privileges of her class and Byrull had the money.  I had aspirations of succeeding where the 
Aberonian scientists failed.  Byrull's crew and technicians were blinded by the riches he waved 
before their eyes and, yes, for a time they lived like Praecels in villas and mansions.  The public 
and politicians were dazzled by the palaces Byrull built and no questions were asked since if he 
was so successful then others could be as well."

	"I couldn't have said it better myself, Doctor."  --No, Doctor, there is one thing you 
haven't mentioned, or wouldn't mention, the aspect of Carlomon.  You opened the door and 
invited him in and he is the deep and sinister factor that you conveniently forgot.--  

	Trajan blanked the screen after thanking the Doctor for his assistance and sat before the 
monitor wrestling with his thoughts.  The gate at the other end of the Equation is still open and 
that gate must be shut for the conspiracy had been hatched long ago at the Other Sphere and, for 
all he knows, the conspirators are still biding their time for another chance.

	Terglyn burst out of the Information Exchange in a flurry of excitement.  "You are right, 
Captain, there has occurred a similar energy drain though not as extensive as this present one.  In 
the Great Eclipse Season Cycle 163 of Fourth Radix on the thirty-fifth day of the eleventh 
cextrum."

	Trajan jerked around in his seat. "That is the same day of Professor Moritz's accident. 
But--."  An expression of sudden awareness, of acute apprehension passed like a cloud over his 
face.  "It means that--"

	Trajan clutched his head and gave out a loud, frustrated groan. "I am a fool!  He is right.  
I am an utter fool!"

	"Captain?" Terglyn ventured tremulously.  

	"Get in! We don't have a second to lose.  We have to go back to Casteltheyne!"

	With swift steps, almost skidding on the slick pavement Terglyn skirted the SpanRacer 
and took position behind the controls.  With a slight hum the aero glided out of Larkae.  As if to 
thwart their exit an onslaught of needle-fine precipitation blotted out the visual field of the 
windscreen.  Terglyn cursed fiercely under his breath; it was clean snow he was hoping for, not 
treacherous sleet.  

	"This may make manoeuvering a bit tricky," he told Trajan.  "The trajectory's magni-
pulses are only at minimum magnitude."

	Trajan reassured him:  "I am counting on your skills, Terglyn.  As long as you keep your 
course and speed steady and don't fly off at a tangent I'll be perfectly happy!"

	"Captain," Terglyn went on cautiously, "are we going into a Code Three situation in 
Casteltheyne?"

	Trajan made a disgruntled snort.  "Let's put ourselves at Code Four for the time being, 
reconnaissance, for what it's worth.  I've made the wrong assumption.  When Dama Edina 
described the accident as a detonation, I thought the experiment was totally destroyed but in her 
own words it was a detonation of light and I didn't grasp the full meaning at the time.  The 
device could still be intact and workable."  A detonation of light when Starglory killed the Soul of 
the device just as it out of its own volition killed the Soul of Reball's IsoMén Equation in Byrull's 
underground fortress.  

	He thumped his fist in frustration against the side panel of the aero.  "I should have gone 
to the shed and made sure.  I should have done a hundred other things as well, I suppose, before 
being so easily ensnared into their game of deceit."  

	Terglyn was not sure whether he could understand or sympathize with his Captain's 
aggravation but the worsening weather conditions commanded his full concentration on steering.  
After the initial outburst of sleet, a wave of hail came charging behind the offensive of the 
northern winds and contours of air and ground partially disappeared under a swarm of flying ice. 

	The microcom installed in the Command's SpanRacer provided a more enhanced range 
for visibility and manoeuvering than an ordinary aero but with outages still plaguing the area 
Terglyn took no chances.  Despite the abominable weather there were a couple of aeros roaming 
above and below and he kept a careful eye on them.  He activated automatic steer control only to 
a half degree; should the magni-pulses of the flytrajectory stop to function unexpectedly aeros in 
the vicinity might lose pulser direction and he needed all manual leverage to pilot out of the way 
of blundering aeros. 

	"Look," Trajan pointed to a silver shimmer in the streaming haze, "you have achieved the 
impossible, Terglyn.  There is Casteltheyne!"  

	The SpanRacer swung first around the castle's turrets in a semi-arc before gliding 
gracefully over the pathway to a silken halt before the marble staircase.  Terglyn was renowned 
throughout the Command for the artistry of his manoeuvres and once again he made a superb 
performance of his navigating skills.  

	Trajan commended his Sergeant with enthusiastic patting on the back.  They got out of 
the aero and rushed up the steps while a treacherous mixture of fine rain and wet snow covered 
the grounds in a grey shroud blending with the pallor of a blighted sky. 

	The two commanders entered the faintly illuminated front hall when so swift that 
seemingly it had taken only a snap of a finger, day turned itself off and night plunged in.  They 
were momentarily stunned by the sudden blackout in the castle.  The gleam of Trajan's stylet 
torch pierced the pitch blackness in the hallway while Terglyn was still groping under his jacket 
for his.  Voices from the far depths of the edifice reached their ears, shrill with fear, echoing 
hollow and sepulchral as if they were disgorged from an abyss of endless night.  

	Terglyn shuddered with sudden dread.  In front, nearly five paces away, he could see the 
slender shaft of Trajan's torch dancing to and fro and he dashed forward almost bumping into the 
Captain when two, then three and more, illuminants on the ceiling flickered back to life.  

	"Scruts," Terglyn wheezed, "I wouldn't go through this experience again for a second 
time!"  

	"Sergeant," Trajan said, "go up the stairs and find Vitor Olyn.  He has youngslady 
Vrillenar with him.  Stay with them both until I come.  I have to find someone else first."

	He told Terglyn the way to his suite and while the Sergeant stormed up the escalator to 
the upper floors of the castle Trajan raced along the dim hallways to the library.  He sensed 
nothing coming from Eirini, no eddies of distress or surges of alarm.  This void frightened him; it 
foretold more than the most jarring cries of help.  

	The temporary drain and only half-hearted restoration of energy were tampering with the 
programmed mechanizations of the castle and clamped the library doors into trismus.  No sounds 
filtered from beyond and as he stood listening and inwardly debating whether he should 
command the doors to fission Trajan caught a movement at the far side of the passageway.  He 
drew out his rephar and trained it on the shapes staggering out from the gloom.  

	"Hold your fire, Captain!" Deyron waved his hands.  Huigo emerged from behind the 
Superpre's stout back holding a remote device in his hand and without further ado impelled the 
library doors to part.  The spaces of collected knowledge revealed only absolute midnight as if 
they were staring down the blackwashed walls of a deep ravine.  

	With some sarcasm Trajan said to Deyron:  "Still about, Superpre?  Can't make yourself 
to leave Casteltheyne?"

	 Deyron twitched his great lipfleece in an effort to look important and he grumpily 
retaliated, "I still have a perpetrator to catch.  In spite of what everybody is thinking it is my 
view the perpetrator is still loose on the grounds of Casteltheyne.  I am not returning to Larkae 
without him, or her."  He grinned sardonically.  "I see that you have made it to Larkae and back, 
Captain, through the wind and the rain.  My compliments to you!  Are the lights still out in 
Larkae?"

	"Larkae is slowly returning to normal while I think you here in Casteltheyne are 
beginning to experience the same problems."  

	Huigo returned from his short excursion through the hallway fissioning all lockjawed 
doors at random and said: "We have activated the auxiliary energy system.  For the moment we 
have light, to a sparse extent, but maybe not enough heating.  I am going to assemble everyone 
into the dining room and concentrate all energy flow there for the time being, as we are trying to 
stimulate the main control system."

	Trajan cut in quickly: "Huigo, before you go meandering around the castle first tell me: 
have you seen Eugene?"

	Deyron and Huigo looked at each other.  The uncertainty stabbed like a knife. 

	"Well," Huigo replied, "we met after mid-meal.  You briefly questioned him in my 
presence, didn't you Superpre?  When you went out to get some drinks he slipped away and I 
was not noticing." 

	"And Nagus," Trajan pressed on anxiously, "have you seen him?"  

	"I am myself looking for the one everybody calls Nagus, Captain," Deyron answered.  
"Although except for some subtle differences I reckon he might call himself Lar Trevarthen as 
well in time.  I came upon your comnager Wakren, Lar Moritz, a few hours ago, looking scared 
out of his wits, and he told me the mismatched twins left in each other's company."

	While Deyron spoke the feeble lighting began to waver and flicker threateningly.  Trajan 
fingered his optic strip.  "Sergeant, are you in my suite?"

	Terglyn's voice answered his summons, not through the optics but from the end of the 
hallway.  Whirling round Trajan's eyes widened in dismay as he saw Vitor groping his way 
towards them, with Terglyn closely at his shoulder.  Vitor's eyes, two dark whirlpools in his lean 
face, singled out Trajan with an air of defeat.  "Eirini's gone.  Lar Trevarthen has taken her with 
him."

	Trajan's pale face belied the calm of his voice:  "How did it happen?  Which one of the 
two?"

	"Eugene Trevarthen requested entrance and Eirini let him in.  He wanted to talk in private 
and Eirini asked me to leave.  She locked the door herself while I stood outside the suite and 
waited.  Then blackout fell upon us and the doors could not open.  When the chamberlain came 
to manually open the doors they had already gone."

	Huigo explained, "All suites have interconnecting exits with other suites.  They must 
have gone through the inner alternative door."

	Trajan's voice was low and held a tremor of approaching danger. "I must go to the shed. 
He is going to reactivate the Equation.  I must stop him."

	"Come with me!" Huigo ordered resolutely. "I know a shortcut through the southern 
wing from where you can reach the shed quicker than from the woods."

	All agreed to follow the lead of Lar Moritz who evidently knew the labyrinth of his own 
castle better than the rest of the group.  Vitor made a limp move to follow his cousin but Trajan 
gently restrained him.  "Rest here, Vitor, don't go along.  You have done the best you could and 
I am grateful for all you've done for me and Eirini, but I don't want any harm to come to you.  
Things in the shed might turn ugly."

	Vitor's tired eyes momentarily flared up in protest but he quickly looked away and Trajan 
sped after the others.  

* * *

	Huigo led the group into his private study where a second door parted upon a small 
hallway.  Nearly every room in Casteltheyne was furnished with at least two exits, like a front 
and back portal of a simpler house, each of them leading to diverse avenues of the grand castle 
complex.  Trajan wondered whether such fluidity of movement had been designed out of a wise 
precaution and decided in the end that wisdom and folly were like two doors leading separately 
to one destination.  He considered his own actions and pondered what went wrong and why it 
was not possible to get an image from Eirini.  Eirini was his folly; it wrung his heart for an 
intense moment.  He was convinced she trusted no one in Casteltheyne but he had overlooked 
one factor:  she trusted Eugene, he was still her friend.  

	Trajan strode to the front of the line until he came shoulder to shoulder with Huigo. 
"Have you seen Dama Anjelie?" he asked. 

	Huigo answered moodily:  "Only for a short time before the hour of mid-meal.  She has 
retired to her suite and for all I know she is still there."

	What can Anjelie do, Trajan pondered.  Nothing, he decided bitterly.  The issue, through 
her devious interventions, had culminated into a confrontation between him and Eugene. 

	"I must commend you," Trajan told Huigo, "for your fortitude in enduring Nagus' 
presence in your castle.  Most of us would have thrown him out."  

	Huigo gave him a sidelong smile.  "If you were me, you would have done the same, 
Trajan.  But I feel our ordeal is coming to an end, just as it had begun on an afternoon like this, 
dark as night, winds and rain raging outside and a damp cold rising because the heating failed 
like it is failing us now." 

	Huigo guided them into the old banquet hall that had been modified in a crude attempt to 
render Dama Edina the necessities of domestic bliss.  From here Trajan knew the way and he 
hurried through the gap that had been cut into the walls, down the short flight of stairs and was 
yanked to a halt by Dayton's furious hand.  He nearly stumbled on the floor and glared round at 
the Superpre.  Deyron was contemplating the locked wooden door.  
	Three steps above him Huigo said: "I would rather that you don't go in.  There is nothing 
to see."  

	Curtly Deyron made his desire known:  "I want to see what is inside.  I request you to 
open it, Lar Moritz."  

	Huigo resignedly ambled down and unlocked the door with a key, and the door creaked 
open on hinges.  

	Without entering Trajan knew the room's measurements and its clinical nature.  The 
sour-sweet odour of anti-septics was no longer prevalent although the square water tank still 
stood in the centre of the bare room.  

	"I have my perpetrator," Deyron suddenly announced in a hard voice tolerating no 
objection.  From a dusty corner his fingers picked up the missing shoe for which he had been 
hunting high and low.

	"Don't be too hasty in your conclusions," Trajan said from the doorway.  Huigo likewise 
had not entered the room but he held Trajan's attention with his eyes.  

	"Don't follow us to the shed, Huigo," Trajan said, clutching his rephar.  "Stay inside and 
leave the rest to us professionals.  I know the way from here."

	Huigo stood framed against the light of the naked bulb above the staircase, emotionless 
and still as hewn in stone and only slightly nodded.  Taking that as some sort of concession from 
the Lar of Castelmoer the threesome tore along the low adjoining passage to the low heavy door.  
They could hear hail pitapatting against the front side.  Trajan pushed the door open and a second 
later the outside haze had swallowed him up.  Deyron hesitated, looking uncertainly at the 
bleakness of the cold, grey sky.  He gave out a yell as he was suddenly propelled into the wet 
open.  

	"Forgive me," Terglyn murmured, "but you are blocking the exit."  

	Terglyn chased after his Captain, quickly receding further into a veil of mist and flying 
rain-snow, and Deyron thundered closely behind him.  Three figures fleeted through a white 
haze-land where only the perigreens stood darkbrown and square and everything else had lost 
colour.  Their breathing puffed little circles in the tightening cold and their feet slipped on the 
frozen mixture of hoarfrost and drizzle.  

	Trajan waited for them at the front of the brick wall and the steel gate was wide open.  
Through a yard of tangled shrubs a rectangular blotch, the shed, which was more to the truth a 
barn like Dama Edina said, loomed through the shreds of fog.  "I am going to enter the shed 
alone," he told them. "Follow me only when I tell you so."  He glanced at them sharply.  He 
knew he could count on Terglyn who stood, legs slightly apart, unblinking in the rain.  Deyron 
stood next to the Sergeant, hunched under the cold but Trajan could count on him as well:  
Deyron's preoccupation with prestige would not suffer him to fall short of a commander's 
staunchness.

	Trajan went forward, swiftly brushing a way through clumps of shrubbery sagging under 
pockets of rainspit.  The barn was a two-storey building of whitewashed brick with walls grimed 
and spotted by the workings of age and nature.  The oval-shaped roof flexed upwards like a fist, 
faintly aglow with an inside light which gave the fist the appearance of sporting a reddish eye.  
The light inside compounded his wariness.  When a figure shambled from around the corner, he 
pointed his rephar at the intruder.  A bedraggled face materialized from the mist with rainwater 
dribbling from the soaked hair along the pale cheeks to the tense line of the mouth. 

	"Vitor!" Trajan rasped.  

	Vitor breathed heavily and did not speak.  He was shivering in the cold. 

	"Come," said Trajan and grabbed him by the arm, "stay close to me."  

	The barn had no windows and there was only one door.  With his foot Trajan shoved the 
door open.  They stood on the wooden lower floor of the structure, strewn with debris and dust.  
Feeble lighting trickled through a charred hole in the ceiling, carelessly mended by a crisscross 
of wooden planks.  A retractable ladder supplied access to an upper platform. 

	"I have told you to stay in the castle!" Trajan berated harshly.

	"I have to come," Vitor pleaded.  "I must make things right again." 

	"This is not the time to feel guilty, Vitor.  It is not your fault, it is entirely mine.  I should 
have taken Eirini with me to Larkae."

	"But I am glad you did not." Vitor spoke rapidly and feverishly as if he had waited long 
enough to get it off his chest.  "I am so happy you have given me some time together with Eirini.  
Life for me has been an ongoing show of false starts but for those precious moments with her.  It 
has given something back to me I thought I have lost altogether."  

	With rising alarm Trajan gazed at him.  Was there something he had overlooked, again?  

	Touching his arm but avoiding his eyes, Victor continued as if he had read his thoughts:  
"No, Trajan, don't misunderstand me, there is nothing between Eirini and me except friendship.  
You have given her something that no other can give and I am so grateful.  It is the reason why I 
want to be here; I have to be here for you both." 

	Trajan chewed his lips in frustration. "Since you're here, stay here but don't go any 
further."

	A shaft of light overwhelmed them with sudden brilliance and a fallen body obscured by 
the shadows in a corner came forth in the brightness.  The Phycel sprawled on his back, out cold 
but breathing, cradling his stingthruster in the crook of his elbow.  Trajan recognized him 
immediately as one of the twosome who had previously attempted to force Eugene to leave 
Myaron in their company.  His gaze shifted from the body to the platform. 

	The wood panelling at the back of the platform had slid apart and sculptured in the light 
stood Eugene's tall, elegant figure.  He had bathed and was dressed in woollen shirt and trousers, 
fur jacket, and high turned-up boots, appearing and acting in manner like the old Councillor 
Sharys.  His features had smoothed out, the madness was gone, colour had returned to his face, 
his eyes were bright as the glint of a sharpened knife; he had changed in many ways.  

	The ladder slid to the lower floor without a sound.  

	"Come up, Trajan," Eugene said.

	When Trajan arrived on the platform, Eugene pulled the ladder up with one hand while in 
the other he was holding a stingthruster. 

	"Throw your rephar over to me."

	"No, Eugene.  Lay aside your stingthruster and I will do the same."  Eugene gave a shrug.  
He was at pains to keep a safe distance from Trajan but while he looked fit and dry, Trajan was 
in a sorry state, soaked by the rain and numb with cold.  "I won't start a shooting match but if 
you think we could achieve more with arms, then so be it.  Eugene gestured with his 
stingthruster.  "Let's go inside."

	The upper structure of the barn gleamed white and painfully clean under the brilliant 
lights and Trajan blinked his eyes against the hurtful glare.  Some scorching scarred the face of 
the walls but apart from those vague and random traces nothing else alluded to the occurrence of 
a past tragedy.  

	The IsoMén Equation occupied the centre of the floor, not as grand and imposing as the 
one he had previously seen, but he was not deceived by the smaller size of this design.  In its 
power to cause destruction it was on a par with its larger successor.  

	"I was wrong from the start.  Professor Moritz's experiment was never destroyed." 

	A touch of amusement briefly thawed the icy hardness of Eugene's face.  "In this 
instance I was lucky you were a bit slow in hitting upon the truth.  In spite of what you are, you 
are so damned weak and vulnerable, Trajan!  You can't even bring yourself to do the right thing 
about Nagus."

	"What you have done with Nagus?" Trajan asked fiercely.

	Eugene scornfully cocked an eyebrow.  "What do you think I did with him?  Done him 
in?  No, of course not.  You taught and showed me how to deal with him.  As soon as I acted on 
him like he did on me, give him a sneer and show him my teeth, he turned tail like the rest of 
them.  Perhaps he is me after all!"  He made a beckoning gesture to someone hidden behind the 
monitor of the Equation.  "Come, Eirini, it's time for our presentation."

	Eirini came into view.  Although her face was pale and her eyes dull, she looked sober 
and unharmed.  She looked at Trajan without speaking and held his gaze.  He was groping to 
fathom her thoughts when Eugene waved his stingthruster and stepped swiftly between them.  
"Don't try anything foolish, Trajan.  Eirini, you stay with me."

	"Eugene," Eirini said.  Her voice was calm but her hands were clenched into fists.  "I am 
standing by my word and I expect that you stand by yours."  

	Eugene scowled: "I want to see your reaction, Eirini dear, what you would do standing 
face to face with him in this situation and you have not disappointed me.  You have not buckled 
to theatrics like a youngslady would.  There is obviously more in you than meets the eye."  

	Laughing bitterly he stretched his arm and pointed his stingthruster at Trajan.  

	In the same quiet voice, Eirini admonished, "Eugene, if you harm him, then everything 
what was said between us is a travesty."

	"Eirini!" Trajan cried out. "What is the meaning of this?  What was said? What have you 
promised him!"

	"Eirini has made a decision," Eugene said, "As you have stated earlier you took 
advantage of her unhappiness.  She now feels she has made a grievous mistake.  It is me she 
values, not you.  She understands my need of going into the Sphere and she has agreed to 
accompany me."

	"No! No! That is not possible!  Eirini, tell me it is not true!"  The rephar was still 
clutched in his hand but Eirini stood too close to Eugene.

	"Tell him!" Eugene yelled, shaking Eirini's shoulder with one hand, while with the other 
he pulled a switch.  "Tell him it is true!  It is me you have chosen!"

	The Equation commenced to hum and shudder but no shine was sparked in its bowels; it 
was a Body from which the Soul was ripped out.  Nonetheless it still had the power of a beast.  
The walls shook and the floor heaved.  A dust of plaster fluttered down.  Trajan summoned 
Terglyn, then reached at a railing when with a loud crack the wood panels of the platform burst 
open.  Vitor stood in the smoking gap, trailing a stingthruster. 

	A sudden hush silenced the voices while in the background the Equation droned on with 
the noise of warring wasps as Vitor and Eugene levelled their weapons at each other.  

	"Vitor!" Trajan cried out, "get away from there! Eugene, don't--."

	'--take another life.' The firecracker thrusts of Eugene's stingthruster drowned out his 
cries, string after string after string of acid yellow spirals popping and crackling like flames 
eating up wood.  Through the smoke warping around the mouth of the wooden screen Trajan saw 
how Terglyn already had one leg hooked on the edge of the platform.  He signalled the Sergeant 
to keep his head down and Terglyn promptly vanished as Trajan rushed to the crumpled figure 
on the floor.

	Vitor had fallen where he had broken out on the scene, his weapon unfired, his chest 
scorched and smouldering from the radiation of the thrusters.  Trajan fell on his knees beside 
him.

	"Why," he whispered, "why do you have to do this?"  A smile shivered on Vitor's 
bloodless lips, his eyes gazing with serene detachment as if seeing visions far ahead.  "This is 
how I have chosen to die, by the hand of another."

	"You don't have to die to prove yourself."

	"I have never had a meaningful life," Vitor said in a voice becoming more indistinct by 
the moment. "I die happy for dying meaningfully.  I am blessed for knowing you and ..."  

	With her name softly nestling on his lips, Vitor faded away without further protest or 
hesitation. 

	Slowly Trajan got up on his feet.  Eugene stood motionless with stingthruster still hooked 
to his fingers.  Eirini had pressed herself against the monitor of the Equation, her eyes vividly 
green, her face sickly white.

	"Was it necessary?" 

	"I have done him a favour.  He wanted to die."  

	With a scornful snort he flung his stingthruster away.  "There now, it's done.  Let's 
proceed with our business.  The machine is ready.  Do your part, Trajan."  He swung an arm 
around Eirini's shoulders and pressed her close to him.  

	"Eirini," he said, with a voice suddenly croaking with emotion, "I have loved you.  
Although I have been unable to express myself in words and in deeds I have loved you and still 
do.  But you must understand now how hard it had been for me to make a commitment, any 
commitment, after what happened.  How could I have explained to you that I am only half of 
what I was.  How could I have told you that half of my life is gone and forgotten except my love 
for you."

	"No more lies, Eugene."  Eirini attempted to swing round but he held her so tight, she 
could only turn her head to look at him in the eye. "No more meaningless sweet words.  You 
could have started afresh.  You could have cut the chain that shackled you to Nagus and made a 
beginning as someone different and follow in your famous father's footsteps.  But no, all you did 
was look back and bemoan what was gone.  And you are capable of doing great harm."  She 
wriggled in his grasp until she stood stiff with her back against him to face Trajan.  Trajan with 
his face white and tense, his eyes darkly burning and watching for an opportunity to spring into 
action and save her at all costs, even at the cost of his own life.  She will not allow that.  

	"Trajan, please, please don't try anything.  He has rigged the whole place with explosives 
and would not hesitate to blow us all sky high.  I too can make the sacrifice, I too can safeguard 
our world, Iucari-Tres.  I--."  The words stuck in her throat and she could only mouth, find me, 
you must know where to find me.

	Only looking at Eirini Trajan tossed the rephar and then the stylet torch to her.  She 
caught them nimbly with both her hands.  "Use them sparingly," he told her, "use them only in 
extreme necessity." In another blink of an eye Starglory sparkled in Trajan's hand.  He sensed 
both Terlgyn and Deyron faltering behind his back.  Without turning he warned:  "Do nothing, 
the machine is highly unstable.  You will cause an explosion.  Go outside and wait for me there."

	The taste of blood was on his lips and he felt himself going numb as he addressed 
Eugene: "Starglory will not harm you this time.  You have chosen your moment well, Eugene, 
and understood my weakness.  You are using Eirini as a shield and to force me into safeguarding 
your passage."

	"Trajan," Eugene rebuked him almost gently, "I wish it could have been different but you 
refused to understand or maybe you are unable to.  In any case, Eirini and I have made our 
decisions.  Now it is your turn." 

      "It is my turn." Starglory burgeoned from his palms and cloaked him in a bluish sheen. 
Through its scintillations his eyes sought to see Eirini once again and he saw how she stretched 
out a hand to him, her slender face harsh with anguish, tears welling in her eyes.  "I did it for 
you," he seemed to hear above the roar of the Equation.  "I did it to keep you safe. --I am still on 
fire.--"  

	The Equation went through a series of convulsions and Trajan stretched his arm forward 
to propel Starglory's light into its Body.  From the guts of the Equation a new brilliant Soul 
dazzled forth with great strength, floodlighting the whole ceiling, and through the aperture in the 
roof it showered the ashen sky above with a kaleidoscope of dancing colours.  Starglory blazed 
ahead flooding the whole interior with blue fire. --'She has made the sacrifice for you'.--  The 
message floated like a bubble in the air and burst when the blue sheen slowly receded into his 
palm and vanished.  

	Nothing else was before him, only a machine labouring with heavy grunts.  A void before 
the monitor where the two had once stood without so much as a mark or a scent as if they had 
never breathed, talked, had never lived, had never been born.  He felt as he himself did not exist, 
no sense of living or of death, only a pit of emptiness ending nowhere.  Approaching the monitor 
he switched off the Equation with one hard pull of the lever.

	"Captain?" Terglyn's voice trembled in the background.

	Without looking at him, Trajan ordered:  "Take Cestor Olyn's body and get out, as far as 
you can.  Don't wait for me."

* * *

	The deceased light of the afternoon had finally succumbed to darkness when Terglyn and 
Deyron stood by the steel gate surrounded by silence now that that the hail and the rain had 
stopped.  Not far from their feet a shrouded bundle lay on the moisture laden grass.  The Phycel 
domestic who had been overcome in the barn had long since recovered his senses and sneaked 
off during the melee.  

	"What happened?" Deyron croaked.  "What happened in that shed?  That blinding light 
that suddenly appeared.  And then, poor young Olyn, first suspected of a crime and now himself 
a victim.  Scruts the skies, now I have two unsolved crimes on my hands!"

	Terglyn did not speak.  He was looking at a red glow emanating from the roof of the 
barn.  The Captain was doing something inside as if he was waging a war on his own.  Following 
orders he and Deyron then carried Vitor Olyn back to the castle.  Night deepened and chilled.  
Still Terglyn attempted to seek contact with his Captain through the optic strip that had been 
delivering nothing but static; still he waited for his Captain to return to Casteltheyne.  Only in the 
small hours was the Sergeant told by the Command that Commander-in-Chief Berin Guillen was 
en route to Castelmoer.