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"But if you can ... You'll go back to the Way."
I took her hand. "I don't know what will happen."
"You come from a larger place than anything I can conceive of," Shirla said. "I've been taught all my
life to be afraid of that place, to despise it. Now you're my love and you come from there."
"We all come from there," I said.
"But I don't want to leave here. You must."
I squeezed her hand. In truth, nobody knew what would happen. "He wants you to be there, too," I
said.
"Good Lenk invited me?"
"He did."
"Olmy," she said, putting her other hand over mine, "I wanted -- "
She tried valiantly again.
"I wanted -- "
Tears dripped down her cheeks.
"I _wanted,_" she managed again, and shook her whole upper body to rid herself of this foolishness.
"Never, ever, ever want anything with all your life, ever. Never want. They will take it away. You will go
away."
"I want, too. I know where I am now," I said.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Lenk sat in the cabin where we had met it seemed years earlier. Allrica Fassid stood beside him, but
left as Shirla and I came in. On the table before him was an ornate xyla box.
"Nobody can offer any proof that you are from the Hexamon," he said as we sat in two chairs
opposite. "That is remarkable. I accept that you are, because of what you have done. I know the ways of
history, and it all smells right to me." He turned to Shirla.
"You are a good woman, and have never wanted more than to have a family and live a decent life."
Shirla blinked at him, then looked at me, too stunned to answer.
"Isn't that so? There's no need to be shy."
She nodded. It was so. Lenk knew his people well.
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"You have made love with this man, in a certain way, under difficult circumstances, and that means
you are committed to him, and believe he is committed to you. Do you accept him for what he is?"
"I don't think we came here to talk about that," Shirla said softly.
Lenk focused his deep-set, dark-lidded eyes on me. For a moment he looked remarkably like a
dead man. "I hear that Brion and Beys thought you could pass judgment, that Beys worried you would
split him like a ripe fruit. They were cowards. The Hexamon cannot judge us."
He leaned forward and opened the box. Inside, the clavicle lay in many pieces, some of them
melted. Even after years, at the end of two projections within the shattered sphere, a tiny bit of glimmer
showed, the last trace of a small finite artificial universe sympathetic with the Way. None of the controls
remained, however, and I saw it could never be repaired.
"You were a fool to come here alone," Lenk said. "Whoever sent you here was a fool. I have
withstood Lamarckia and treachery and the devils of my own nature. I do not fear you or the Hexamon.
Brion is dead, and that is a kind of waste -- though he had too much of the Hexamon in him -- and Beys
is gone. So what are we to do, you and I?"
I stared across the table at the man who had started all this, saw his weary defiance and his strength.
I saw that Shirla was still in awe of him. He had his center of power, and the force necessary to oust him
from that center would cause more bloodshed and, in the end, with all of Lamarckia changing, do
nobody any good.
"You've made a beginning for yourself," Lenk said. "You've gathered a following. You could be like
Brion, only I suspect you'd be a little colder than he was, and never trust someone like Beys. You could
be formidable, Olmy."
I studied Lenk and felt the remains of my hate dissolve, not because of any lessening of indignation
and anger, but because he was part of a river of human history that could not be shifted without immense
pain. He was not the worst, far from the best; but inevitably, he was in his place, and for me to oppose
him would be another kind of cruelty, not to him -- he might relish the battle -- but to his people.
To Shirla.
I could guarantee nothing. The Hexamon might never come, and I could not return to the Way.
My mission was over.
After a moment, Lenk leaned back and said, "I thank you for what you've managed this far. I bless
you for your work. You're a smart and decent man, Ser Olmy, but you are not like me, and not like
Brion. Go and live a life with this woman."
I did not want my children on Lamarckia. Shirla wanted children; we compromised.
Shirla and I lived in Athenai for ten years. It was there we adopted our first boy, Ricca, one of the
many orphans called Beys's children. I came in time almost to forget the Hexamon. For weeks on end I
thought little or nothing of my past. I was well-known wherever we lived for being the Hexamon agent,
but even in the worst of times, nobody resented me, or at least nobody expressed their resentments to
me. The Adventists, what remained of them, came now and then, and Lenk did not oppose their coming.
He knew I would not encourage them.
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"But if you can ... You'll go back to the Way."
I took her hand. "I don't know what will happen."
"You come from a larger place than anything I can conceive of," Shirla said. "I've been taught all my
life to be afraid of that place, to despise it. Now you're my love and you come from there."
"We all come from there," I said.
"But I don't want to leave here. You must."
I squeezed her hand. In truth, nobody knew what would happen. "He wants you to be there, too," I
said.
"Good Lenk invited me?"
"He did."
"Olmy," she said, putting her other hand over mine, "I wanted -- "
She tried valiantly again.
"I wanted -- "
Tears dripped down her cheeks.
"I _wanted,_" she managed again, and shook her whole upper body to rid herself of this foolishness.
"Never, ever, ever want anything with all your life, ever. Never want. They will take it away. You will go
away."
"I want, too. I know where I am now," I said.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Lenk sat in the cabin where we had met it seemed years earlier. Allrica Fassid stood beside him, but
left as Shirla and I came in. On the table before him was an ornate xyla box.
"Nobody can offer any proof that you are from the Hexamon," he said as we sat in two chairs
opposite. "That is remarkable. I accept that you are, because of what you have done. I know the ways of
history, and it all smells right to me." He turned to Shirla.
"You are a good woman, and have never wanted more than to have a family and live a decent life."
Shirla blinked at him, then looked at me, too stunned to answer.
"Isn't that so? There's no need to be shy."
She nodded. It was so. Lenk knew his people well.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"You have made love with this man, in a certain way, under difficult circumstances, and that means
you are committed to him, and believe he is committed to you. Do you accept him for what he is?"
"I don't think we came here to talk about that," Shirla said softly.
Lenk focused his deep-set, dark-lidded eyes on me. For a moment he looked remarkably like a
dead man. "I hear that Brion and Beys thought you could pass judgment, that Beys worried you would
split him like a ripe fruit. They were cowards. The Hexamon cannot judge us."
He leaned forward and opened the box. Inside, the clavicle lay in many pieces, some of them
melted. Even after years, at the end of two projections within the shattered sphere, a tiny bit of glimmer
showed, the last trace of a small finite artificial universe sympathetic with the Way. None of the controls
remained, however, and I saw it could never be repaired.
"You were a fool to come here alone," Lenk said. "Whoever sent you here was a fool. I have
withstood Lamarckia and treachery and the devils of my own nature. I do not fear you or the Hexamon.
Brion is dead, and that is a kind of waste -- though he had too much of the Hexamon in him -- and Beys
is gone. So what are we to do, you and I?"
I stared across the table at the man who had started all this, saw his weary defiance and his strength.
I saw that Shirla was still in awe of him. He had his center of power, and the force necessary to oust him
from that center would cause more bloodshed and, in the end, with all of Lamarckia changing, do
nobody any good.
"You've made a beginning for yourself," Lenk said. "You've gathered a following. You could be like
Brion, only I suspect you'd be a little colder than he was, and never trust someone like Beys. You could
be formidable, Olmy."
I studied Lenk and felt the remains of my hate dissolve, not because of any lessening of indignation
and anger, but because he was part of a river of human history that could not be shifted without immense
pain. He was not the worst, far from the best; but inevitably, he was in his place, and for me to oppose
him would be another kind of cruelty, not to him -- he might relish the battle -- but to his people.
To Shirla.
I could guarantee nothing. The Hexamon might never come, and I could not return to the Way.
My mission was over.
After a moment, Lenk leaned back and said, "I thank you for what you've managed this far. I bless
you for your work. You're a smart and decent man, Ser Olmy, but you are not like me, and not like
Brion. Go and live a life with this woman."
I did not want my children on Lamarckia. Shirla wanted children; we compromised.
Shirla and I lived in Athenai for ten years. It was there we adopted our first boy, Ricca, one of the
many orphans called Beys's children. I came in time almost to forget the Hexamon. For weeks on end I
thought little or nothing of my past. I was well-known wherever we lived for being the Hexamon agent,
but even in the worst of times, nobody resented me, or at least nobody expressed their resentments to
me. The Adventists, what remained of them, came now and then, and Lenk did not oppose their coming.
He knew I would not encourage them.
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