"Yet he never reproached me. The first time I was with him after the duel, when he was still recovering from his wounds, he said to me, 'You were right, Jaantony, they did aim for empty air. A pity that they missed.' " Vikary laughed, but Dirk looked at him and saw that his eyes were full of tears, his mouth set grimly. He did not cry, though; as if by some immense effort of will, he kept the tears from falling.

Abruptly Jaan turned and walked back inside, leaving Dirk alone on the balcony with the wind and the white twilight city and the music of Lamiya-Bailis. Off in the far distance the straining white hands rose, holding back the encroaching wilderness. Dirk studied them, thoughtful, reflecting on Vikary's words.

Minutes later the Kavalar returned, dry-eyed and blank-faced. "I am sorry," he began.

"No need to-"

"We must get to the crux, t'Larien. Whether Garse hunts us or not, we face formidable odds. We have weapons, should we have to fight, but no one to use them. Gwen is a good marksman, and fearless enough, but she is injured and unsteady. And you– can I trust you? I put it to you bluntly. I trusted you once, and you betrayed me."

"How can I answer that question?" Dirk said. "You don't have to believe any promise I give you. But the Braiths want to kill me too, remember? And Gwen as well. Or do you think I'd betray her as easily as I…" He stopped in horror of his own words.

"… as easily as you did me," Vikary finished for him with a hard smile. "You are blunt enough. No, t'Larien, I do not think you would betray Gwen. Yet I did not think you would desert us either when we had named you keth and you had taken the name. We would not have dueled except for you."

Dirk nodded. "I know that. Maybe I made a mistake. I don't know. I would have died, though, if I'd kept faith with you."

"Died a keth of Ironjade, with honor."

Dirk smiled. "Gwen appealed to me more than death. That much I expect you to understand."

"I do. She is still between us, ultimately. Face that, and know it for a truth. Sooner or later she will choose."

"She did choose, Jaan, when she left with me. You should face that." Dirk said it quickly, stubbornly; he wondered how much he believed it.

"She did not remove the jade-and-silver," Vikary answered. He gestured impatiently. "This is no matter. I will trust you, for now."

"Good. What do you want me to do?"

"Someone must fly to Larteyn."

Dirk frowned. "Why are you always trying to talk me into suicide, Jaan?"

"I did not say that you must make the flight, t'Larien," Vikary said. "I will do that myself. It will be dangerous, yes, but it must be done."

"Why?"

"The Kimdissi."

"Ruark?" Dirk had almost forgotten about his erstwhile host and co-conspirator.

Vikary nodded. "He has been a friend to Gwen since our days on Avalon. Though he has never liked me, nor I him, I cannot abandon him entirely. The Braiths…"

"I understand. But how will you get to him?"

"Should I reach Larteyn safely, I can summon him by viewscreen. That is my hope, at least." He gave a vaguely fatalistic shrug.

"And me?"

"Remain here with Gwen. Nurse her, guard her. I will leave you one of Roseph's laser rifles. If she recovers sufficiently, let Gwen use it. She is probably more skilful than you. Agreed?"

"Agreed. It doesn't sound very difficult."

"No," said Vikary. "I expect that you will remain safely hidden, that I will return with the Kimdissi and find you as I leave you. Should it become necessary for you to flee, you will have this other aircar close at hand. There is a cave nearby that Gwen knows of. She can show you the way. Go to that cave if you must leave Kryne Lamiya."

"What if you don't come back? That is a possibility, you know."

"In that case you will be on your own again, as you were when you first fled Larteyn. You had plans then. Follow them, if you can." He smiled a humorless smile. "I expect to return, however. Remember that, t'Larien. Remember that."

There was an undertone of edged iron in Vikary's voice, an echo that called back another conversation in the same chill wind. With startling clarity, Jaan's old words came back to Dirk: But I do exist. Remember that… This is not Avalon now, t'Larien, and today is not yesterday. It is a dying Festival world, a world without a code, so each of us must cling tightly to whatever codes we bring with us. But Jaan Vikary, Dirk thought wildly, had brought two codes with him when he came to Worlorn.

While Dirk himself had brought none at all, had brought nothing but his love of Gwen Delvano.

Gwen was still sleeping when the two men went from the balcony. Leaving her undisturbed, they walked together to the airlot. Vikary had unpacked the Braith aircar thoroughly. Roseph and his teyn had obviously been planning for a short hunting sojourn in the wild when everything had broken loose. Dirk thought it unfortunate that they had not intended a longer trip.

As it was, Vikary had found only four hard protein bars in the way of food, plus the two hunting lasers and some clothing that had been slung over the seats. Dirk ate one of the bars immediately-he was famished– and slid the other three into the pocket of the heavy jacket he chose. It hung slightly loose on him, but the fit wasn't too bad; Roseph's teyn had approximated Dirk in size. And it was warm-thick leather, dyed a deep purple, with a collar, cuffs, and lining of soiled white fur. Both sleeves of the jacket were painted in intricate swirling patterns; the right was red and black, the left silver and green. A smaller matching jacket was also found (Roseph's, no doubt), and Dirk appropriated that one for Gwen.

Vikary took out the two laser rifles, long tubes of jet-black plastic with snarling wolves embossed upon the stocks in white. The first he strapped around his own shoulders; the second he gave to Dirk, along with curt instructions on its operation. The weapon was very light and slightly oily to the touch. Dirk held it awkwardly in one hand.

The farewells were brief and overly formal. Then Vikary sealed himself into the big Braith aircar, lifted it from the floor, and shot forward into empty air. Dust rose in great clouds at his departure, and Dirk retreated from the backwash choking, with one hand over his mouth and the other on the rifle.

When he returned to the suite, Gwen was just stirring. "Jaan?" she said, raising her head from the leather mattress to see who had just entered. She groaned and lay back again quickly and began to massage her temples with both hands. "My head," she said in a whimpering whisper.

Dirk stood the laser up against the wall just inside the door and sat by the side of the sunken bed. "Jaan just left," he said. "He's flying back to Larteyn to get Ruark."

Gwen's only reply was another groan.

"Can I get you anything?" Dirk asked. "Water? Food? We've got a couple of these." He took the protein bars out of the pocket of his jacket and handed them down for her inspection.

Gwen gave them a brief glance and grimaced in disgust. "No," she said. "Get them away. I'm not that hungry."

"You should eat something."

"Did," she said. "Last night. Jaan crushed up a couple of those bars in water, made a sort of paste." She lowered her hands from her temples and turned on her side to face him. "I didn't keep it down very well," she said. "I don't feel so good."

"I gathered that," Dirk said. "You can't expect to feel well after what happened. You've probably got a concussion, and you're lucky you're not dead."

"Jaan told me," she said, a little sharply. "About afterwards, too-what he did to Myrik." She frowned. "I thought I hit him pretty good when we fell. You saw, didn't you? It felt like I broke his jaw, either that or my fingers. But he didn't even notice."


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