Roger Zelazny - Donnerjack

“I’ve met your daughter,” Jay said, suddenly understanding the surreptitious gestures the uniformed Virginia had been giving him from her position at the back of the astonished escort. “In fact, she’s looking for you.”

Ambry’s mouth twisted in a rueful grin. “I should have known. Do you know where she is?”

In a single smooth movement learned in virtventure, Jay drew his CF pistol and aimed it at the leader of the escort. From behind the group, Virginia spoke, her voice so cool that no one doubted she meant her words:

“I have you covered. The first one who moves gets a double CF round between the shoulders.”

Now Drum, Alice, and Dubhe closed with their own weapons held ready.

“I’m here, Ambry,” Alice said. “And I’m awfully glad to see that you’re all right.”

Ambry grinned, shook his head in amazement, and moved to disarm the members of his escort. Jay took the spears from Little Wind and Little Storm.

“Sorry, guys. I had to do it.”

“But now we won’t be able to go to the Celebration!” Little Storm protested.

If I have my way, there won’t be any Celebration , Jay thought, but he knew better than to say such things in front of his opponents. Such dramatic gestures looked great in performances, but they had no place in real life—and despite the setting, this virtventure was very real.

Drum, whistling between his teeth, was busy directing the members of the escort to lie prone on the floor. With quick, economical movements, he bound ankles and wrists. This completed, he glanced at the winged lions, clearly uncertain how to deal with them.

“I don’t think we’ll have any trouble with them,” Jay said. “They were here against their will. Right, guys?”

“Right.”

“That’s exactly it.”

“Amazing how a CF rifle in the arms of our ‘Ginnie can make even a demideity reasonable,” Drum commented. “What next?”

“Well, we’ve found Ambry,” Jay said. “Now maybe Ambry can help us get Bansa’s device from the machine over there.”

Ambry nodded. “That I can. The wards were designed to permit me freedom to work on the machine. Tell me, what will you do with it if I get it for you?”

“Return it to the one from whom it was stolen,” Jay said.

“The Lord of Entropy?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Entropy seems like just the thing for this device of mine.” Ambry shook his head. “Crossover must have seemed like the ideal concept at the time. Now, however, I am less certain. Virtu may be full of beauty and wonder, but I’m not at all sure that Verite is ready for two-way commerce.”

“There are good things,” Alice protested. “Like you and my mother. Like Jay’s parents. Like Virginia and Markon. Should these be restricted to one universe only—and that one not quite real?”

“Which is not quite real, my dear? Meditate on that for a time. You are no less my daughter despite the whims of biology. However, this is not the place for such discussions.”

He walked over to the convoluted machine. Perceiving his approach, it glittered, sparked, and purred rather like a great cat. Ambry stroked a glowing copper coil and then reached down into the heart of the machine. A nimbus flickering crimson and lavender formed around him. They could see his shoulder muscles bunch as he tugged at something inside.

“Got it,” he muttered, pulling. “Here you are, Jay. Return it to the one from whom it was stolen.”

Jay accepted the item Ambry extended to him. It was a circuit board about the size of a large belt buckle, its workings protected by a clear covering that showed a few scratches.

Then Ambry stepped back and patted the tubes again. The purring sound grew louder until all who stood within the vast room could feel their bones vibrating. As they watched, the enormous machine diminished into something about the size of a cello. Its character changed as well, color fading until it was a mass of crystal and platinum, roughly square.

“Alice?” Ambry’s voice sounded strange. “Give Lydia my love.”

“Aren’t you coming with us?” she said. “We came all this way!”

“I’d like to,” Ambry said, and now his voice was clearly not the same, become instead lighter, the rhythms pedantic, “but I have my own role to play in the events to come.”

Before their eyes, he underwent a metamorphosis, his shoulders becoming slightly stooped, his hair touched with grey, the lines on his face speaking of wisdom earned at the price of pain. A scar ran from the top of his grizzled head across his face, down his throat, and vanished into the neckline of Ambry’s shirt (which fit somewhat more loosely now). No one doubted that it continued to the sole of his left foot.

When he bent to pick up the crystal and platinum device, they saw that he limped.

“Goodbye, for now. I’m going to stand in the way of Creation,” the Master/the One Who Waits said. “I look forward to seeing you all there.”

“Reese Jordan?”

“Yes?”

“How do you feel today?”

“As well as a man of my years can expect to feel. I hurt everywhere— even my aches have aches. Are you a new doctor? I’m afraid I don’t recognize you.”

“I am not precisely a doctor, but I believe I have a cure for what ails you.”

“There is no cure for old age, lady. Sid and his pals keep trying, but there’s just no way around it. Eventually, the body quits.”

“For some people that doesn’t need to be the end.”

“Some people? What?”

“Some people have more than one existence—you are one of these. In the creed of Virtu you are known as the Guide. I can make it possible for your awareness to be translated into that of your mythology.”

“I can see how that would work—in theory. Who are you?”

“You might say that I’m an old myth myself, come calling on a failing colleague.”

“You might. It’s a tidy way of not answering my question.”

“Suffice to say that I have the power to do what I say. When your body fails, your memories, knowledge, and abilities can be translated to merge with the myth that your actions engendered in Virtu.”

“Sounds pretty nice—though I didn’t know that I had generated a myth.”

“Three Veriteans did so at the time of the Genesis Scramble: you, Warren Bansa, and John D’Arcy Donnerjack.”

“John’s dead. Didn’t anyone think to make him this offer?”

“We might well have. The Engineer would have been invaluable to us, but he walled himself away from Virtu and his old rival, the Lord of Deep Fields, slew him.”

“Didn’t know his jurisdiction extended to the Verite.”

“It does not, in the usual sense, but he can manipulate electronic forces and Donnerjack made the mistake of surrounding himself with such… but why am I telling you this?”

“Because you want something from me.”

“I thought I was offering you something—extended life and a chance to be embodied with your myth.”

“You want something. Why else come now? I’ve been following the news. All through Virtu there are rumblings of change. Genü loci have been slain. Armies are being formed and powerful forces move.”

“For one who rarely leaves Caltrice’s site, you have gathered much.”

“I’m like Merlin trapped in Nimue’s spell—but I still hear what is going on. Poetic imagery aside, what do you want, Lady with the Long Green Hair? What is the price of my immortality?”

“I want the head of Jay Donnerjack. He wronged me—stole something from my keeping.”

Reese chuckled. “You want the head of my pupil, the son of my old friend? Why not take it yourself? You are powerful, Myth Come Visiting.”