Roger Zelazny: To Die In Italbar

_Relax your mind and let me move further in. I will guide your steps to me_.

_Don't guide too quickly. Heidel is not so fast on his feet_.

_What do we need him for?_

_Nothing. He needs us_.

_Very well. Come_.

"All right, Heidel," he said. "Now is the time."

They rose together and, under one poncho, leaning together, moved through the mist and the rain, moisture starring their faces, a fresh-risen wind at their backs.

When he finally came upon them, Morwin found Shind beside the man Sandow, who sat holding Jackara's hand and supporting her back with his arm.

"Is she all right?" he asked.

Sandow looked at Shind, then at Morwin. Then, "Physically, yes," he said.

He released von Hymack, who seated himself on a stone.

"Give this to that man," Sandow said.

"What?"

"A cigar, He'd like one."

"Yes. --How serious ... ?"

_We have both viewed her thoughts_, Shind said. _She is a child again, in a slightly happier time_.

"But how severe is it?"

_See whether she recognizes you_.

"Jackara?" he said. "How are you feeling? It's John . . Are you all right?"

She turned her head and stared at him. Then she smiled.

"How are you?" he asked.

_There was a flicker_, Shind said.

He extended his hand. She drew back, dropped her eyes.

"It's me. John. Wait!"

He fumbled in his pocket, withdrew a handful of coins, tossed them into the air. They swirled wildly, swarmed, fell into a pattern. Forming an ellipse, they danced before her, moving faster and faster. She raised her eyes and stared. She smiled again.

Perspiration broke out on his brow as they spun, sped, turned.

"Is it a record?" she said.

They showered, clattering, to the ground.

"I don't know. I wasn't counting. I think so. You do remember."

"... Yes. Do it again--John."

The coins rose from the ground, hovered, began a Brownian movement before her.

"You do re--"

_Do not force her to recall anything. She wants to be distracted. She does not want to remember. Make it easy. Just keep distracting her_.

He juggled the coins, only glancing occasionally to see whether she was still smiling. He smelled the smoke from Heidel's cigar. He felt Sandow move within his mind.

--_So that is what you hit her with, he said. Now I understand_--.

The thought terminated abruptly.

He dropped the coins again when the implication reached him.

"No!" he said. "Do not tell me that thing migrated to Jackara because I hit it with my mind! I--"

_No_, said Sandow, perhaps too quickly. _No. The girl was ideal, personality-wise, and there was a channel_--

--_provided by me_, Shind broke in.

_All unknowing_, Sandow said. _Leave it at that. There need be no external stimulus for such a transfer. I know of one other case. Life is sufficiently furnished that one need not go looking about for extra guilt. Let this one go_.

"Do it again," Jackara said.

"A little later," Sandow told her, rising and drawing her slowly to her feet. "Take his hand now," and he placed hers in Morwin's. "Shind tells me a searching party is drawing near, and I see that he is correct. I have no desire to get involved. You people are welcome to come away with me if you share these sentiments." He turned. "Since I see that you do, we had better get moving. I am parked back that way."

"Wait."

"What is it?"

"The Commander," said Morwin. "Malacar. Where is he?"

"Beyond those rocks. About fifty feet. The searchers will find him soon. There is nothing we can do."

But Morwin turned and started toward the rocks.

"I wouldn't take her there!"

He halted.

"I guess you are right. You take her again. Go ahead without me if you have to. I have to see him one more time."

"We will wait."

_The searchers are very near!_

_I know_.

The storm renewed its fury, but a slight distance to the southeast.

"Thanks for the cigar--sir."

"Frank. Call me Frank."

_It is going to appear as if there has just been a murder, you know_.

_It will not be the first unsolved one in history_.

_When they identify him_--

--_there will be a stink. Yes. Think of the possible rumors. Of a political killing. He would be gratified to know that he may have done more for the DYNAB by dying here than by anything he has done since the war_.

_How so?_

_There will be a League status vote, suddenly, near the end of this session. The sentiments aroused by his death may be of benefit. He was a popular man once. A hero_.

_And he was tired, and more than a little bitter. It would be ironic_ ...

_Yes. The rumors will require careful handling. The restoration of the horns planet, as part of the DYNAB, should also be of some benefit. I will not be able to get to the work for a couple of years, but I will time the announcement properly. Commercial agreements I have spent a long while negotiating are also about to be made public_.

_Then it is true what they say about you_.

_What?_

_Nothing. --What is to become of von Hymack?_

_That is up to him. But I will see that he talks to Pels first, whatever. If he wishes, he can come to the clinic on Homefree, and Pels can orbit there and confer with the staff. In fact, as one of the few people with any idea as to what really occurred here, it might be a very good place for him to beat least until after the voting. --And yes, I was born on Earth, a long time ago_.

"... Soft," Jackara said, stooping to pet Shind.

_And warm_, Shind added. _It comes in handy in this weather. I think John is returning. Why don't you tell him where you want to go now?_

Jackara stared at the approaching figure, then, "John," she called out, "take me back to the castle with the fiery moat. To Earth."

Morwin took her hand and nodded.

"Let's go," he said.

One day there came a spring, curled and dotted, soft, green and brown, moist, and birds wheeled in the blue, shedding tumultuous notes of inquiry; the breezes were salt amid cool from the sea that rolled as it rolled five thousand years ago; and the fires of the world were contained in proper chambers far beneath their feet, as they passed, slowly, amid the trees, the fields, the fresh-scrubbed hills.

Walking on within the globe of his desire, he thought of Pels, for he thought of music, invisible, weightless, consistent in terms of its own logic. He did not think of Francis Sandow, Heidel von Hymack or even the Commander, for she had just said, "It's a nice day," and yes, he thought, cloud in the sky, squirrel on the branch, girl, give it that much, give it that.