BOOK FIVE


CONVERGENCE


CHAPTER I


THE SWAMP OF OSTRACIS




	A half hour had passed since the sirens had howled with grim ultimatum across all 
perimeters of the city, and curfew spread like black blood from the heart of the spiderweb 
that was Ostracis, reaching with its long tentacles even as far as the shores of the Atlantic 
Main.  

	Maykin pressed herself against an alley corner, the wall of rough brick as icy as 
the fear that gripped her.  She had missed the time, and the blackout had caught up with 
her.  It did not necessarily mean that no one dared to venture outside at this hour.  There 
were still plenty of folk around careering along the fast emptying streets, dawdlers like 
herself caught unawares, and others.  But soon the decent would disappear safely behind 
doors and the others would rule the night. 

	If that one apothecary in the neighbourhood had not closed shop early with the 
notice "Insufficient Merchandise", she need not wander around so long in search of 
another one.  She ought to pay heed to the sun's position, but Eirini needed the medicine 
and, not for the life of her, would she return empty-handed and see the disappointment in 
Eirini's beautiful eyes.  

	But at the moment her life balanced on the edge of hell and purgatory.  Darkness 
hung like a scarecrow's cloak over the sullen deserted streets, shunned in fear by most 
folk except for knots of shadows here and there lurking in dark corners.  Ostracis's 
Citizens of the Night: army deserters, renegades, black market peddlers and Zeroborn 
Pagans trying to win new recruits in the slums of the city.  

	Maykin rounded the corner of the alley on tiptoe and took a quick look across the 
main avenue.  Nothing was stirring, no one seemed alive, except the moon above glaring 
pale and fierce.  Biting her lips, holding the little package close to her chest, still on tiptoe 
as if walking on pins and needles, she sprinted across the avenue, praying that the 
moonlight would not give her away to any unwanted observer.  One more street to cross 
and she would be home and dry.  

	She was running.  Her rubber boots pitter-pattered like rain on the pavement.  She 
almost screamed when turning a corner a large shade obstructed her way.  A rough hand 
clamped down on her mouth, a voice hissed:  "Don't panic!  You don't want the 
marshalls coming on our heels, do you?"

	The hand released her and she darted backwards.  She hugged her arms tightly 
across the chest to control her shivering as a group of seven viewed her in a semi-circle; 
the austere design of their suits gave away their Paganist creed and faith.  

	"What is a little girl doing on the streets during the curfew?" the voice questioned 
and the speaker stepped forward in the moonlight, showing his face which, although 
unsmilingly gaunt, appeared not altogether unkind.  He stretched out an inviting hand.  
"Come with us, you must be hungry and cold.  Do you have a home?  We will give you 
shelter, don't be afraid."

	Maykin backed still further away, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.  Then a 
second voice spoke out, impatiently:  "Leave her be, she is too young.  She will slow us 
down.  We have other important matters to dispose of."

	Without further hesitation Maykin turned and bolted into the murkiness of an 
adjacent alley.  Panting and gasping between half-sobs she kept on running through the 
oppressive dark and silence of the curfew.  The crooked bulges of Swill Yard gradually 
glimmered in the moonlight, shacks and huts of wood and corrugated iron in varying 
stages of decay propped against one another or sagged on top of each other amongst 
mounds of refuse and fetid mudpools.

	She hurried up the half-rotten steps of a hut that stood slouching in the corner of 
the Yard.  After resting for a while with a hand on her chest to quieten her pounding 
heart, she then knocked on the locked door.  

	Eirini opened the door, her elfin face pale with anxiety.  "Maykin!  What were 
you doing so long on the streets!  It is an hour past curfew."

	"The apothecary near our corner has closed down." Maykin said with little gasps. 
"And I had to look for the next one, but there is none close by, and I had to go further 
downtown.  And I can't return home without the medicine for Old Moose.  He'll be 
coughing and moaning all night, and you won't be able to sleep again, Eirini!"

	Eirini sighed, taking the package, stroking the ruffled black curls of the girl. 
"Your dinner is in the oven.  Remember next time to take heed of the time.  One sleepless 
night is a small price to pay for your well-being, Maykin.  I was simply worried sick.  
After curfew one can never know what will happen outside."

	Now that Maykin had returned to the security of her ramshackle home, her spirits 
picked up, settling herself at the table with a mug of milk and her hot plate on a cloth, 
and chattered away.  "An unusual number of Pagans were roaming about.  I've counted 
at least seven, and there were several more behind them, hiding.  They have important 
matters, so I heard them telling each other.  Up to no good, I'd say and plain scared of 
the marshalls."

	"Have you seen anyone familiar?"

	Maykin glanced at her across the flickering candle.  "You're thinking of Eugene, 
aren't you?  You're hoping he would be still around.  He is up to no good, too."

	Eirini folded her arms as she leant against the black, heavy curtains.  Except for 
the brightness of the single candle, the contours of the room presented the same gloom 
and cheerlessness as the outside Yard.  Squalor had left its fingers all over the place, the 
rents and damp streaks on the walls from where the paint, once bright green, had peeled 
off like strips of diseased skin; the soot-packed ceiling, the furniture drooping in filth and 
decay, the cobwebs of dust heaping up in corners like old volcanic ash, the dirt-stiffened 
obligatory draperies to shield the home lights from the streets outside.  And yet, it had 
served as a safe haven throughout the time she was here.  How long had it been, after 
having arrived through the spiralling light tunnel into this terrible world? 

	Maykin was still gazing at her with her spoon poised in the air.  Of course, she 
was thinking of Eugene, the only link to a far-off, beautiful home, asking herself how far 
had he succeeded going it alone after separating from her in a fury to join the Movement 
of Zeroborn Pagans.  

	"He won't be coming back, Eirini."

	"I know," Eirini said sadly, "I know.  I just can't help wondering how he is.  Is he 
well, or unwell, happy at last, or not?  All things considered, we came here together!"

	"He has forgotten you, forgotten, and left you alone.  He has deserted you."

	"No," Eirini approached the table with slow, pensive steps.  "It was not desertion 
on his part.  He just had to follow his instincts, like I have to.  Have you heard anything 
more coming from the front?"

	"I've heard people talking that the offensive across the Southern Belt of States is 
nearly at an end.  Consolidation, mopping-up, a New Order are all that's left to do.  But I 
also heard rumours that the Paramountcy is preparing for the ultimate battle."

	In sudden aggravation Eirini cried out:  "Is there never going to be an end?  This 
senseless war, bloodshed everywhere!  What is it for?"

	"The new Paramount is hungry for more land to rule," Maykin expressed with a 
serious, all-knowing face.  "Now he has won so easily, there is no way to stop him.  There 
is more bloodshed to come, I tell you, and more drafting of able-bodied men and women, 
and more deserters, and more executions."

	"Shagg came by briefly before the sirens rang out."

	Maykin puckered her brow in annoyance.  "I wish he stayed out of sight.  He is a 
wanted fugitive and putting all of us at risk."  

	"He just wanted to know how his friend, Old Moose, is doing. They were pretty 
close in the past.  But that wasn't the only reason why he dropped by.  He told me he 
may know a reliable person who can drive us to the coast, and to take a ship across to 
Aseur."

	"Aseur is where you still want to go?"

	"Yes, Maykin, I don't want to stay here.  I have to follow my hunch and I think 
somewhere in Aseur shall I find what I am searching for."  Eirini's gaze gloomily fell 
upon the fluttering candle.  "It goes without saying I could be wrong, but I have to try, 
and try again, and never stop."  

	Maykin bent low across the table, hiding her expression behind the mug she put to 
her lips.  "Did Shagg say when he is going to come up with the goods?"

	"No, not precisely, it would take at least some considerable time."  Eirini sidled 
close to the girl and put her hands on Maykin's shoulders, a smile briefly brightening her 
sombre face.  "Maykin, don't look so glum.  We'll take you along, for sure.  You won't 
be left behind."

	"But Old Moose," the girl argued, "he is sick, he can't travel.  We can't leave 
him."  

	"Then we'll wait until he gets better.  We won't depart without him.  I'll tell 
Shagg tomorrow."

	Maykin clasped her arms around Eirini's waist, hiding her curly head in the folds 
of the rough men's trousers.

	"Eirini, you're the kindest person I have ever met.  I love you."

	"And I you," whispered Eirini, kissing the curls.  "What would have become of 
me without you?"

* * *

	WHERE WOULD THEY BE, TRAVELLERS dropped from the cosmos 
without warning and without guidance, and what hazards would have befallen them, if 
they had not come across Maykin and her mentor, Old Moose, after the brilliant passage 
from Castelmoer to here, to Nowhere?  

	After the resplendent cocoon had faded, and vanished beyond a trace, they could 
see nothing before their eyes, except a web of total inkiness.  Eirini felt Eugene's presence 
at her side, his arm rubbing against hers, the two of them not daring to move farther away 
from each other.  Slowly, first the stars took shape, flickering into view like little candles, 
then the bleakness of the open stretches, and further away clumps of habitation.  A 
yellow crescent hung in the sky, and under its pale beams they finally looked at each 
other fully in the face.  

	Eugene appeared sober and subdued, as if the shock of the transition had burnt 
out the rage and the madness.  All in all, despite the crudeness and slapdash design of his 
IsoMén Equation, they had made the voyage with success.  He was the first to raise the 
question:  "Where are we?"

	Her voice was bitter and harsh. "I thought you knew!"

	He looked away, resting his gaze on the blurred outlines of the alien environment 
which sharpened into more form and shape with each passing moment.  He pointed 
vaguely in the direction of the homesteads.  

	"People ought to be living there.  Since we don't know where we are, we might as 
well find out." 

	"How can you be sure they'll be friendly!" Eirini exclaimed.  As the shockwaves 
of the last traumatic events had passed so did her distress, giving way to anger and a fury 
she had never experienced.

	"You coerced me into coming here!  You've killed as you have said you would!  
Why should I follow you?  Why should you care?  We might as well separate, here and 
now, each going as one pleases.  You have achieved your objective, you don't need me 
anymore!"

	"Don't be ridiculous," came Eugene's muffled voice, "we came together.  We 
might as well stay together.

	"I beg your forgiveness, Eirini" he went on in a listless voice as if nothing 
mattered anymore, "I shouldn't have dragged you into this.  Do you understand that it 
has become impossible for me to remain in Phylee-Patre, in Iucari-Tres?  Little by little I 
would be entirely consumed, demented, deranged beyond recovery.  I no longer 
belonged there, and nobody understood, not you, not even Trajan.  If he had understood, 
it would have been a lot different; I wouldn't have been forced to use you.  As things 
stand, well, we have come into the Sphere and for the time being, in my view, it is wiser 
to stay together." 

	She studied him with smouldering eyes and opened her mouth to answer when he 
grabbed her arm.

	"Hush!  Someone is coming.  Put away your things."

	Eirini realized she had Trajan's rephar and stylet torch clenched in her hands.  She 
quickly tucked weapon and torch inside her jacket as they stood still, stiffened in 
suspense, as two small, swaying globes of light approached them from the dirt road which 
extended to the distance at their left.  

	"Is someone there?" a gruff man's voice reached through the darkness.  "I thought 
I heard strange voices talking.  Hello there!"

	"What is he saying?" Eirini whispered.  

	Eugene roughly pressed a small monitor in her hand. "Here," he grated, "a 
metaphraser, connect it to your ears.  I have not come totally unprepared."

	He stepped forward, into the dim halo issued by the two circles of illumination 
and for a moment held himself in check, undecided, as two figures materialized from the 
darkness.  The bony, grizzled head of an aged adult, and the prim, smart face of a young 
girl.  

	"Well, well," the old man chuckled, knowingly nodding his grey head, "a young 
couple stranded outside the city gates at this time of night.  Have you, like us, come out 
onto the fields to observe this exceptional brightness of tonight's stars?  Not many of us 
here have the courage for such foolishness, especially in these turbulent times, but you 
look hardly as if you have come from--here?"

	"We," Eugene replied uncertainly, "we are travellers who have lost our way.  If it 
is no trouble to you, could you tell us where we are?"

	The old man studied him attentively through narrowed eyes, taking in with a 
perplexed expression the singular design of their garments, and their appearance.  

	"What a melodious accent does your speech have.  It will indeed be trouble if you 
remain here in the open and trouble for me, too, if I would be so madbrained as to give 
you shelter.  You have come from Aseur?  That's trouble enough."  

	The sharp dark eyes of the girl had flitted from Eugene to Eirini during the 
conversation, and they lingered on Eirini with wistful speculation.  She laid a hand on the 
man's wrist.  "Old Moose, we can't let them, let her, fall into the marshalls' hands.  And 
for what reason do we have to follow the bidding of the new Paramountcy?  They may 
operate under the fancier name of the Dominion of Magnificent Xandia but people, like 
us, still have to scratch for a living while the purges and arrests keep on going.  We owe 
them nothing."

	The old man rested his gnarled hand on the girl's curly head. "Well spoken, 
Maykin, as always.  You see, friends, while I am as old as the dirt you see on this road, 
and can boast of life experience as long as the Paramountcy's tradition of persecution, she 
is my advisor and spokeswoman.  Well, don't let us dally any longer.  It is very late and 
at such an hour it is far better to be at home than elsewhere."  

	Eirini had remained quiet, still trying to adjust to the unusual curves and 
inflections of this Sphere's tongue, all the while seething that Eugene had indeed come 
well prepared.  He was even schooled in speaking the language.  

	Following Maykin and Old Moose they had embarked on the next stage of their 
precarious existence.  It soon became evident that Old Moose was hardly a healthy man; 
he was steadily buckling under the pressures of age and a hard life, and likewise, steadily, 
Eirini learnt how to struggle and cope with the hazards of living in Ostracis and take over 
control of the household.  As more frequently Old Moose lay panting on his cot, she 
accompanied Maykin to the nearby woods and fields to collect mushrooms and the like, 
and trade them on the market for other nourishment.  During that time, they grew close 
together as sisters. 

	Eugene had no tolerance for this humble way of keeping alive.  Learning the tricks 
of how to blend himself into the population he preferred roaming the city, observing and 
gathering more knowledge of the intricacy and deviousness of Magni-Xandian social 
structure which the New Paramountcy ruled with an iron fist.  As the uncertainty of their 
future lengthened with time so did his absences from home.  

	The war was a day old when he came to see her in the room she shared with 
Maykin and settled down on a chair.  She saw then how greatly he had changed.  His 
skin was bronzed by the fierceness of the one sun, his hazel eyes no longer clear and 
open, but hooded and withdrawn, his hair a jungle of neglect.  Of Iucarian serenity there 
was not a trace left.  In his daily and nightly excursions through the streets of Ostracis he 
had acquired the same expressions of callousness and suspicious moroseness of the city 
dwellers.  How well the City has been his teacher, she thought woefully.  How well, and 
how easily, had he adapted.  For him there was no turning back. 

	"I am glad," he began, "to know that you're dealing with the situation in a most 
admirable way.  I have always suspected you have more pluck than our contemporaries. 
Eirini, you are the shining jewel of your peers!" 

	"I don't have you to thank for it!"

	He smiled wryly.  "You still blame me for everything, don't you?  I did not 
expect you to forgive me, and I didn't come here to beg your forgiveness.  Just to tell you 
that I have come to the turning-point of my life."

	Suddenly tears pricked in her eyes.  She walked up and down the room in an 
effort to compose herself.  "Why?  Why is the process of redemption in Phylee-Patre so 
repugnant to you?  Is the ferocity and aggression of Magni-Xandia a much better method 
of redeeming yourself, not amongst friends and family, but amongst savages?"

	"I am not going to justify myself in your eyes, Eirini.  There is no justification 
necessary for the actions of an imbalanced mind.  What I did to the girl was an accident.  
I found her loitering around Casteltheyne like a pest, accosting me with her impudent 
questions, asking me what I was doing in the shed, threatening to expose me as a fraud!  I 
struck her, and she crashed with her head against a wall, and I tried to hide her body by 
hauling it up the trees.  Needless to say I was all in blue funk and did a sloppy job of it.  I 
regret that you had to be the one who found the body."

	"What about Vitor?  That was plain, wilful slaughter!"

	His eyes darkened as he growled: "Vitor, remember, came at me with a 
stingthruster.  It was either him or me.  And I haven't harmed Trajan."  

	She flung at him maddeningly: "That's because I made a bargain with you!  I 
know you would have killed him, as expediently as you killed Vitor, if I had not 
sacrificed myself and agreed to accompany you.  What are your feelings for me anyway, 
to think that we were once friends." 

	Eugene stared hard at the earthen floor of the hut.  "But we are still friends, aren't 
we?  You have sought in the past to look beyond this friendship of ours, something of a 
lasting nature.  I entreat you to forgive me for the hundredth time if I, somewhat 
unwittingly, have led you to believe that such a possibility could exist in our relationship.  
Yes, for a time I have begrudged Trajan for being able to give to you that something 
which I lacked.  For a time I thought he should have given me instead such chances of 
redemption and salvation.  I was jealous of him and you, Eirini, could you believe that?  
In any case, he kept to his side of the bargain; he brought us safely here.  Without the aid 
of the Force within him, it would have been impossible."

	Eirini closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  "You have hurt him, I have hurt him.  
Trajan, my Trajan!  Eugene, what have you done to him, to me!"  

	"You can't forget the past," Eugene said bitterly.  "All of it still rankles deep 
inside you.  Don't you realize that I may have done you a favour.  You must know, or 
hasn't he told you, that this Sphere, HERE, was his next mission.  He would have left 
you behind, without a doubt living in luxury in Ermizgarth, but you might never know 
what would become of him, should his mission fail.  Here, in one way or another, you 
might find him again.  As I have to find my destiny."

	"What are you going to do?"

	"I am going away to join the ranks of the Pagans."  	

      "Pagans?  Aren't they, what did Maykin call them, the Minus Zero Age religious 
fanatics?"

	"They are not fanatics," Eugene blurted angrily, "religious or otherwise!  And you 
mustn't heed the words too much of that little imp."

	"That little imp," Eirini reminded him bitingly, "has more shrewdness and wisdom 
than the two of us.  But since you have assimilated so well I gather I shouldn't bother too 
much about the choices of your future friends, though it appears that the Paganist 
teachings of equality are falling foul with the new government."

	Eugene remarked suddenly, "Do you know that the new Paramount is 
Carlomon?"

	Eirini stared at him blankly and he shrugged. "Naturally you wouldn't know.  His 
presence here in Magnificent Xandia is a strong indication that I have chosen the right 
course."  He clenched a fist.  "Carlomon!  How would I savour the moment when I meet 
him in his own backyard on my own terms."

	"I see such vengeance in your eyes," Eirini said with a heavy heart. "I see so little 
remaining of your former self.  How will you be further transformed by the Pagans?  Will 
they turn you into one of their assassins?  Will you be prowling the streets after dark to 
plot and kill?"

	Eugene jumped up from his seat, his eyes ablaze with wrath.  "Why can't you 
forget the past?  It is over!  It is over and done with!  Why is it so difficult to accept that?  
You are here, Eirini, here in a world of mindless cruelty, and so you must learn to live, 
hostile, merciless, cruel.  Kill, yes!  Kill to survive.  But of course you will always remind 
me of my guilt and mistakes."

	He had stormed out of her room and SINCE THEN HAD NEVER ONCE 
RETURNED.  

* * *

	Eirini woke up from a troubled night, haunted by dreams of past and present.  
Maykin was nowhere in the proximity.  She must have gone out to get more milk.  
Wrapping a shawl around her shoulders she briefly stepped into Old Moose's room to 
check on his condition.  His fever had subsided a little, but not entirely, and the old man 
lay pressed against his pillows, seemingly asleep, his mouth slightly open, pumping breath 
with short wheezes.  

	She was worried about Old Moose, but physicians were scarce, not to mention 
sanatoria.  The Front was the grim harvester of all resources and manpower.  She was 
standing before the stove brewing a pan of soup for Old Moose when Maykin burst in, 
holding a jar of frothy milk, her eyes bright with excitement.  

	"You'll never guess what the latest rumour is!"  She held her breath for a minute 
and announced solemnly, "They caught an Aseuran spy!"

	Eirini glanced at her sideways.  "And what will they do to the poor man?"

	"Usually," Maykin reasoned as she poured some milk into a pan, and put the pan 
on the oven, "they'll shoot all spies on the spot but this one is different.  They captured 
him and brought him all the way from the South to Ostracis.  And that is not all, 
Paramount Carlomon is gracing us with his presence to interrogate the prisoner personally.  
It seems to me that they have caught someone very important!" 

	"The Paramount is coming, here?"

	"The gossipers say he is arriving tonight, but you can never be too sure.  One thing 
is clear though.  Security is tight everywhere.  They are setting up roadblocks and 
sporadically checking people on the streets.  We'd better stay where we are until this 
whole thing blows over." 

	Wars are lost and won, and spies are caught.  On many occasions when the war 
was raging at its peak had she heard gruesome stories of captured subversive agents, or 
people suspected as such, put to the torture in order to extract information, and then 
hung, or shot.  Ostracis was rampant with monuments of bloodstained walls and weather-
beaten gibbets to bear witness of this fact.  As the case was when victory was secured 
across the whole continent, they caught one more, and there would be one more 
execution.  

	But this time there was a difference.  The Paramount himself was taking charge of 
the matter, he who had so far never set foot on the soil of Ostracis.  The chill of 
foreboding traced an icy path across her heart.  

	She abruptly enquired, "Have you seen any of the Pagans around?"

	Maykin raised her slim, black eyebrows. "They have dropped out of sight.  It is 
always their practice to play it safe when the government is raising a hue and cry."  She 
grew alarmed when she noticed Eirini's strange, intense expression.  "What is the matter, 
Eirini?"

	"I am not sure.  All this is so unexpected, confusing.  I don't know what it means, 
but I feel it is imperative that I know Eugene's whereabouts, and who the prisoner is."

	Maykin viewed her with eyes no longer exuberant, but grave and gloomy.  "It is 
very important to you, isn't it?  You fear it might be one of your friends.

	"Sometimes at night when strange dreams possessed you, you would toss about in 
your sleep and whisper a name, not Eugene's, but someone far more dear.  His name is 
engraved in my mind, I can find out."

	Eirini swallowed several times, wrestling between choices.  "It is too dangerous, 
Maykin.  Don't do it.  I will never forgive myself if something happens to you."  

	Maykin smiled solemnly. "Don't worry, Eirini. I know my way around town and 
you would be amazed at the efficiency of the city's grapevine.  I'll be fine, honest."

	"All right, but be home before the curfew. And be careful."

	After a steaming mug of milk and a plate of crackers, Maykin hitched on her 
shopping basket with renewed vigour and enthusiasm and disappeared through the door.  
For long moments Eirini was lost in thoughts.

	Eugene was right.  The past was over and done with, dust and ashes long blown 
into space by the workings of the IsoMén Equation.  The time had come to discover new 
ways of survival, to live on, to find Trajan.  To be reunited, to comfort him, to see that 
look of agony dispersing from his dear eyes.  She took the rephar and stylet torch out 
from under the mattress and fondled them.  --'Use them sparingly.  Use them only in 
extreme necessity.'--

	She hurried away from the stove to Old Moose's room with the covered pan of 
hot soup, and put it on a bedside table.  He was still sleeping, almost wasting away but he 
would be all right for the time being.  She would be away for only a short time.  She 
knew the secret hideaway where Shagg was concealing himself from the law.  All of a 
sudden, to find means of transportation to the coast, and a ship to Aseur, had become a 
matter of life and death.  Pulling on a hooded cloak Eirini departed from Old Moose's 
tottering hut, sliding down the rickety steps, and hastened across the grubby alleyway of 
Swill Yard.