many Blood junkies lying stiff and cold in empty rooms because they couldn’t afford your prices?”
“I don’t know,” said Silver. “I try not to think about it. I’m just . . . getting by, like everyone else in Mistport. Inflation’s gone crazy since the esper plague. Money’s not worth half what it was. What savings I had were wiped out. If I wasn’t doing it, someone else would. You know that. I never meant to hurt anybody, but . . .”
“Yes,” said Hazel. “But. There’s always a but, isn’t there?”
Silver stepped forward, one hand reaching out to her. She grabbed it with her own, and he winced at the harsh, unforgiving strength in her. She smiled at him coldly. “The show’s not over yet, John. You’ve seen the past and the present. Now here comes the future. Whether we’re ready or not.”
Her hand clamped down hard, and Silver cried out as the room disappeared around them and chaos took its place. People were running screaming in the streets of Mistport. Buildings were burning. Attack sleds filled the skies above. Energy beams stabbed down through billowing clouds of black smoke. The dead lay everywhere. War machines smashed through the city walls. Burning barges floated down a River Autumn thick with blood and choked with corpses. And above it all, a never ending scream that had nothing of Humanity in it. Hazel released Silver’s hand and reality crashed back as the small cramped room reappeared around them. Silver fell back a step, shaking and shuddering, his head still full of the stench of spilled blood and burning bodies, the hideous unending scream still ringing his ears. Hazel stood and looked at him, cold and unforgiving as any oracle.
“That’s the future, John. Your future and mine. And you helped bring it about. Something Bad is coming to Mistworld, Something Very Bad. And it will be here soon.”
And then suddenly she was just Hazel again, her cloak of power and majesty gone in a moment, and she sank back down into her chair by the fire again, looking small and tired and very, very vulnerable. Silver slowly moved forward and sat down in the chair facing her. Part of him wanted to run screaming from the room, but he couldn’t do that. Part of him was frightened almost to panicking by the hideous thing he’d seen his old friend become, but he couldn’t let her see that. She needed him, needed her old friend and comrade, and though he had done many awful things in his time, a few of which even he was ashamed of, John Silver was damned if he’d let her down. They sat in silence for a long while, the only sound in the room the quiet crackling as logs shifted in the heat of the fire. The room seemed very cold.
“What happened to you, Hazel?” Silver said finally. “You never had those powers before.”
Hazel smiled wearily. “What happened to you, John? What happened to the people we used to be?”
“Things were simpler, when we were young,” said Silver, looking into the fire because he found it easier than looking at her. “You were a merc, and I was a pirate, both of us convinced we were destined for greater things. We made a great team as confidence artists. We ran the Angel of Night swindle for three years straight, remember? Though my favorite was always the lost Stargate con. I had great fun making up the maps. So impressive, they were practically works of art. We’d still be running those cons if we hadn’t got unlucky.”
“And greedy,” said Hazel.
“That too.”
“Things were simpler then. It was us versus them, and we only took money from those who could afford to lose it. Simple, innocent days. But we changed, moved on. We’re not who we used to be. Our friends and allegiances have changed, and all we have in common now are our memories and Blood. And neither of them comfort me like they used to. Can we trust each other anymore, John?”
“We have to,” said Silver. “No one else would.”
“Owen would,” said Hazel.
Silver made
“I don’t know,” said Silver. “I try not to think about it. I’m just . . . getting by, like everyone else in Mistport. Inflation’s gone crazy since the esper plague. Money’s not worth half what it was. What savings I had were wiped out. If I wasn’t doing it, someone else would. You know that. I never meant to hurt anybody, but . . .”
“Yes,” said Hazel. “But. There’s always a but, isn’t there?”
Silver stepped forward, one hand reaching out to her. She grabbed it with her own, and he winced at the harsh, unforgiving strength in her. She smiled at him coldly. “The show’s not over yet, John. You’ve seen the past and the present. Now here comes the future. Whether we’re ready or not.”
Her hand clamped down hard, and Silver cried out as the room disappeared around them and chaos took its place. People were running screaming in the streets of Mistport. Buildings were burning. Attack sleds filled the skies above. Energy beams stabbed down through billowing clouds of black smoke. The dead lay everywhere. War machines smashed through the city walls. Burning barges floated down a River Autumn thick with blood and choked with corpses. And above it all, a never ending scream that had nothing of Humanity in it. Hazel released Silver’s hand and reality crashed back as the small cramped room reappeared around them. Silver fell back a step, shaking and shuddering, his head still full of the stench of spilled blood and burning bodies, the hideous unending scream still ringing his ears. Hazel stood and looked at him, cold and unforgiving as any oracle.
“That’s the future, John. Your future and mine. And you helped bring it about. Something Bad is coming to Mistworld, Something Very Bad. And it will be here soon.”
And then suddenly she was just Hazel again, her cloak of power and majesty gone in a moment, and she sank back down into her chair by the fire again, looking small and tired and very, very vulnerable. Silver slowly moved forward and sat down in the chair facing her. Part of him wanted to run screaming from the room, but he couldn’t do that. Part of him was frightened almost to panicking by the hideous thing he’d seen his old friend become, but he couldn’t let her see that. She needed him, needed her old friend and comrade, and though he had done many awful things in his time, a few of which even he was ashamed of, John Silver was damned if he’d let her down. They sat in silence for a long while, the only sound in the room the quiet crackling as logs shifted in the heat of the fire. The room seemed very cold.
“What happened to you, Hazel?” Silver said finally. “You never had those powers before.”
Hazel smiled wearily. “What happened to you, John? What happened to the people we used to be?”
“Things were simpler, when we were young,” said Silver, looking into the fire because he found it easier than looking at her. “You were a merc, and I was a pirate, both of us convinced we were destined for greater things. We made a great team as confidence artists. We ran the Angel of Night swindle for three years straight, remember? Though my favorite was always the lost Stargate con. I had great fun making up the maps. So impressive, they were practically works of art. We’d still be running those cons if we hadn’t got unlucky.”
“And greedy,” said Hazel.
“That too.”
“Things were simpler then. It was us versus them, and we only took money from those who could afford to lose it. Simple, innocent days. But we changed, moved on. We’re not who we used to be. Our friends and allegiances have changed, and all we have in common now are our memories and Blood. And neither of them comfort me like they used to. Can we trust each other anymore, John?”
“We have to,” said Silver. “No one else would.”
“Owen would,” said Hazel.
Silver made
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