“Orelle—” he began. And then the aeon-misted eyes fell upon Miller, and a look of bewildered recognition seemed to grow in them. “This man,” he said uncertainly. “Should I know him, Orelle? Has he been here before, or. . . .” Suddenly the mists cleared from his eyes and he looked old no longer but resolute and certain.
“I know him!” he said in a crisp voice. “His face was in the Time Pool. It meant danger. But the likelihood was so remote that—well, I dismissed it. I didn’t believe.”
“What was the danger?” Orelle leaned forward anxiously, her satin skirts moving with a gentle rustle over the flowery bank where she sat.
The man shook his head. “You’ve seen the Time Pool, child. There are so many possibilities of the future—who can say in what ripple this man’s face floated for a moment before the bubble burst? But it was danger. I remember that.”
They turned in one motion and looked at Miller with wise, wary, thoughtful eyes, astonishingly alike in the two faces. He realized they must be closely akin, and both akin to Tsi, whom no one trusted far.
He said quickly, “If you can read the future you must know I’m not a man to break my promises—and I swear to you both I mean no harm.”
The man made an impatient gesture. “The future is never that clear. There is no ‘must’ in time—only ‘perhaps’.”
“Tsi sent him,” Orelle said. “She must have had her reasons.”
“She sent me because of Brann,” Miller declared. The two nodded.
Orelle said, “Well, sometimes she’s moved to save one of Brann’s victims. Sometimes I think she helps him in his—call them experiments—on those he captures. She’d like us to think only whims move her. But we know the thing that lies behind all she does. Llesi and I—we know.” She smiled grimly at the man beside her.
“She wants the Power,” the man called Llesi said.
Miller thought to himself, “So do I,” but aloud he said only, “The Power?” in a voice of innocent inquiry.
Llesi nodded, his eyes fixed speculatively upon Miller as if he gazed through the mists of incalculable years.
“A toy my brother and I once made that became far more than a toy before we were finished. Now Tsi claims her share in her father’s treasure. These two are my brother’s children but sometimes I think Tsi has no blood of mine in her veins.”
Orelle said, “No, Llesi, she’s only weak. If Brann didn’t rule her so completely—”
“She’d be welcome to her heritage. But we know that to give her what she asks is to give it straight into Brann’s hands. And there’d be an end to this castle and all who live here.”
“Who is Brann?” Miller asked impatiently. “I’ve heard so much about him, I’ve even heard him speak. But I’ve never seen him. What does he look like?”
Orelle shook her head. Small bells she wore in her ears tinkled at the motion, and even the tiny sounds they made were vividly beautiful to Miller’s increasingly keen new senses.
She said, “No one has seen him except Tsi. No one but she can tell you what he is. He receives his friends only in the dark or from behind curtains. Ever since he built that castle, centuries ago, he’s kept his secret hidden—whatever it may be. I should like to see him dead.”
She said it without passion. “Brann is true evil, perhaps pure evil in its most flawless form. He’s very wise and very powerful. I’m not sure why he chose us for his enemy but I only know now we must fight or be killed.”
Miller made up his mind suddenly. “As I left his castle,” he said, “Brann spoke to me from beyond the wall. He said this was a fight he would win too easily. He told me to come to you as another fighter, to make the battle more interesting.”
Orelle leaned forward quickly on the flowery bank, her earrings tinkling musically. “He said that? You know, I’d have guessed the opposite.
“I’d have said Tsi sent you here knowing Brann would covet you for his experiments—knowing that with you here, he’d redouble his efforts to conquer us and drag you back. If his interest were flagging, that might be the best way to revive it against us and force her entry here. Because she’d do anything in the world to get her hands on the Power.”
Llesi interrupted her in a thoughtful voice. “She might send an envoy here armed with some secret weapon Brann could devise—something that could pass even our careful searching. Remember, Orelle, I’ve seen this man before in the Time Pool—this man’s face, and danger!”
“I’ve given you my word I didn’t come to harm you,” Miller said, realizing that though he sailed close to the wind of truth in saying that, at least it was accurate as far as it went. “Still, I’d like to know more about this Power. Unless you—”
He never finished. For suddenly there was a blast of appalling sound in the room, and a rush of white-hot fire that seemed to flow down his arm and burst in a blinding gush from his wrist.
When he could see again, what he saw was stunning. For Llesi was collapsing where he stood, his knees buckling, his face strangely drained and empty as if he were dead before he struck the floor. There was a curious shimmering glow bathing him, sinking inward like a devouring acid.
Orelle was on her feet, stumbling forward, and from all around figures were closing in through the glass that melted at their approach.
Blinded and deafened by a sound that he knew was not truly audible, Miller tried to spring back.
He could not move. The white dazzling flame still poured from him upon the falling Llesi. Louder and louder that unheard, cataclysmic shout roared through the room. Now Miller felt energy of some strange sort pouring from Orelle and the others—mental power, a silent, tremendous flood that beat upon the white flame and—snuffed it like a candle.
The fire was gone. But Llesi had fallen.
A dozen men and women had crowded into the room by now, bright in their sleek rainbow garments. Two men fell to their knees beside Llesi.
Orelle had swung toward Miller. Hot rage blazed tangibly from her—tangibly, for Miller’s mind winced beneath that telepathic red fury. Through the scarlet twisted a black thread—the thought and intention of death, cold black against crimson.
“Orelle!” he cried desperately. “I didn’t—it was some trick!”
He could not speak, even telepathically. For he could see nothing now but Orelle’s dark eyes, and they were expanding, growing into luminous pools that chilled him, and effectively paralyzed muscle and nerve and mind.
Eerily a thought that was not his own moved suddenly in his frozen brain—moved and reached out toward Orelle.
“Wait, child, wait!” the thought said. “This is Llesi speaking.”
All must have heard it, for every head in the room turned sharply. The blinding pools that were Orelle’s eyes began to fade and dimly Miller could see again. In his mind that voice of another brain said, “The bracelet on his wrist—take it!”
No one stood near Miller but he felt a violent tug at his wristwatch, saw it torn free. It sprang through the air to Orelle as if thrown by an invisible hand. She spread her fingers and received it. But she was looking at Miller.
“Llesi?” she said uncertainly, still staring into Miller’s eyes. “Llesi—you hear me?”
“Yes. Wait. I must speak with this man . . . Miller . . . wait.”
Orelle gestured. Llesi’s body was lifted without support and floated toward the bowery couch. It sank down gently. One of the men came forward and made a quick examination.
“He isn’t dead. It’s stasis, of a sort. But I can’t communicate with him. Try it, Orelle.”
“Llesi?” Orelle’s thought arrowed out. “Llesi?”
Miller roused from his stupefied amazement. That fantastic voice in his brain was speaking quietly to himself alone.
“Don’t fight me. They’ll kill you unless you obey me. Empty your mind, Miller. Let me speak through you. Now. . . .”
Miller listened to the thought that was not his, riding on the waves of his own telepathic mind, speaking to Orelle and the others. But he believed it spoke to himself as well.
“This must be Brann’s doing,” Llesi said. “The bracelet—when I guessed at a weapon the man Miller could have brought Tsi must somehow have been listening. Even our tests failed to find it but a weapon that bracelet must have been. Well, Brann failed but only thanks to you for smothering the weapon so soon. I’m not destroyed but I think it may be a long while before I can think or move in my own body.”
“But you can hear us, Llesi?” Orelle’s voice was soft.
“Through this man—yes. This is a telepathic rapport with him. There must have been electronic contact at the crucial moment. Without Miller I would be cut off completely until my body mends again. I think it will in time. I know the sort of weapon Brann used. My body will have to absorb vital energy, to overcome the insulation of atomic stasis the weapon threw about me.
“Now listen, because my strength is going. The mental must draw on the physical and my body’s an ember now. I must sleep and gather power. Brann will know what’s happened here—depend on it, he’ll strike while I’m still helpless. I must think—and rest.”
Orelle said, “We can handle Brann!”
“We can handle him if I can lead you. Otherwise. . . Take no risks. Remember, my only contact with you is through this man Miller. Brann will destroy him if he can. But the sword is two-edged. Through Miller I can fight if I must. Now let me rest. I must gather my strength, and think.”
The thought trembled on the air—faded—and was gone into an enormous stillness. Miller was alone again in his own brain.
Orelle stared at him, anger still bright in her mind but leashed anger now.
“How much of this have you passed on to Brann already?” she demanded.
Miller said, “I swear I didn’t know I was carrying a time-bomb like that. Tsi told me it was only a communication device she’d built into my watch. I can only say I’ll help you fight Brann in any way I can.”
Orelle came forward with quick steps, her satin robes rustling, and took Miller’s shoulders in a tight grip, reaching high with both hands to do so. Her eyes were close to his. She stared compellingly up at him and he felt the warm force of her mind probing his with angry emphasis.
“Tell me one thing—the truth,” she demanded. “Are you Brann?”