The Athor looked him up and down curiously. “Tell me, Torc, prince: in the chamber of mirrors—what did you see?”

12 - (Shira) walked slowly into the third stall from the door, stepped up onto the toilet seat and felt along the narrow rim of the left-hand partition. There! A bead of paint? Better not try to move it, in case. She jumped down, ran to fetch MacAllister. A moment later, he gingerly lifted down a tiny silver bead.

The waters frothed and boiled, rising, filling the space of the lab floor, swirling and swelling to engulf them all. Ord closed his eyes and cried out but his cry went unheard. Just as the waters were surely closing over his head, the tumult faded, the raging river was gone, and the lights from the passageway shone in on an empty floor

What if things happened while she was away? Terrible things? And she was too late to do anything? Maybe she should make herself ill and stay behind. Maybe no one would notice if she did not go. Maybe....

As the daur turned ponderously and lumbered across the courtyard cobbles, Torc had one last glimpse of Gar heading Tanna’s way. Then he was passing under the inner courtyard arch and down towards the drawbridge gate.

Feric, massive and dark against the light, bowed his head. “I wish you safe journey and swift return, Highness.” He turned back to Brac. “I’ll catch you up, General,” he said, and strode back into the hutment.

“…Without his proving in the holy city the king is but a man like all the rest. Already the people line the streets to see their next king ride the route that will render him a demigod. What—shall you stand out there and tell them that you’ll not go? … Farce or no—and that’s not for you to say—of course you’ll go tomorrow against one thousand conspiracies, and there’s an end to it.”

Ord couldn’t help a small tinge of excitement at the thought. All this time using a tri-di-corder and never being able to see its true results until now. The TS was still operating, of course, but whatever came through today would be there, in its full roundness, filling the lab.

The whole planet abounded with natural resources, as Earth had a century before. And there was Hengst, up there with his precious voyager ships, all rigged up and nowhere to go. Maybe there was a deal here. Perhaps, instead of going up to see Hengst, he could persuade the man to come down here. . . .

The old man’s adrenaline had reached an impossible high. Ord watched Suk pan it down again. This wasn’t like ’25. That woman had only gone catatonic, for a spell. This was something much worse. The pulse rate was faster than a hummingbird’s and the respiration, shallow. The eyes opened, rolled up under the lids. The lips were going cyanotic. Oxygen. Ord placed the mask over the old man’s face, adjusted the feed. No change. The TS was now a blinding, continuous white. Whatever it was was killing him.