battered notebook from the other. He read rapidly, then started to scribble in the notebook.
“See you soon, Dr. Diamond,” Owen said, but the scientist and philosopher seemed to be totally wrapped up in what he was doing, and didn’t answer. Cati grabbed Owen's arm and started to haul him toward the ladder. Dr. Diamond did not look up. But as they were on the fourth flight down a head appeared over the rail at the top.
“Don’t forget what I said about coming back,” he shouted, and Owen waved back.
It took them fifteen minutes to get to the secret hiding place looking down on the Convoke. At one stage Cati saw Samual stalking along the path, and hauled Owen into the bushes to hide. Samual was muttering to himself as he walked along.
“I’m sure he's up to something,” Cati said.
They waited until Samual had passed out of sight, then ran to the door of the Starry. As they passed through the sleeping forms, Owen remembered the little girl who had woken the previous day. Had the fact that he’d stumbled and touched her something to do with her waking?
They took the stairs two at a time, Cati leading, until they reached the top and went out onto the little balcony. They looked down to see Johnston standing in the middle of the hall. Chancellor, the Sub-Commandant, Samual, and Contessa stood together facing him. The head of the guard, Rutgar, stood at the door. And Pieta stood behind her chair at the fireplace. Even at this distance Owen could sense the stillness, the dangeroustension in her. If Johnston was aware of it, he showed no sign. He stood with his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips, looking about him with a lazy arrogance.
“You didn’t come here to admire the hangings,” Chancellor said. “State your business.”
“I apologize, Chancellor,” Johnston said. “It is such a long time since I have seen the old hall.” The words were polite but the tone was not, and Owen knew that the man was mocking Chancellor.
“Get on with it, Johnston,” Pieta growled. The man put his fingers to his lips.
“Hush, little one,” he said. “Such a long sleep.”
Owen didn’t know what he was talking about, but he heard Cati's sharp intake of breath, so he knew it was serious. He expected to see the long whip of magno snaking out toward the man. But Pieta bit her lip and turned away, burying her head in her shoulder as if to hide a terrible grief.
“Make your parley, Johnston, and go!” snapped Rutgar.
“Yes,” said Johnston, “the parley. That is the reason I’m here. I am ready to offer terms.”
“What terms?” asked Chancellor. There was anxiety in his voice.
“These are the terms. You abandon all defense of this place and I will return you to the Sleep, long and dreamless, for eternity.”
“And what advantage is there in that?” the Sub-Commandant asked.
“My Watcher friend,” Johnston said softly—Owenfelt that there was respect mixed with loathing in his tone—”how long have we Watched each other over the centuries, not growing old, but growing weary? You alone of these people know me and know when I am speaking the truth, so listen to me now. The other choice is dying here, for we intend to annihilate you and all of your works. But if you let me put you to sleep, then at least you are alive and have—not hope, for there is no hope, but the illusion of hope that a new day might come and you might wake again.”
“It is an offer we must consider,” Samual said.
“Consider nothing!”
A voice cut across the debate like a whiplash. It was Contessa's, Owen was surprised to notice. She strode across the room until she was standing eye to eye with Johnston.
“You think he would put us to sleep? Maybe he would. And the next thing would be a blade in the throat, or carried out into the everlasting cold and frozen to death. What he is offering is not a choice.”
“I would certainly keep you awake a little longer than the others,” Johnston said in a musing
“See you soon, Dr. Diamond,” Owen said, but the scientist and philosopher seemed to be totally wrapped up in what he was doing, and didn’t answer. Cati grabbed Owen's arm and started to haul him toward the ladder. Dr. Diamond did not look up. But as they were on the fourth flight down a head appeared over the rail at the top.
“Don’t forget what I said about coming back,” he shouted, and Owen waved back.
It took them fifteen minutes to get to the secret hiding place looking down on the Convoke. At one stage Cati saw Samual stalking along the path, and hauled Owen into the bushes to hide. Samual was muttering to himself as he walked along.
“I’m sure he's up to something,” Cati said.
They waited until Samual had passed out of sight, then ran to the door of the Starry. As they passed through the sleeping forms, Owen remembered the little girl who had woken the previous day. Had the fact that he’d stumbled and touched her something to do with her waking?
They took the stairs two at a time, Cati leading, until they reached the top and went out onto the little balcony. They looked down to see Johnston standing in the middle of the hall. Chancellor, the Sub-Commandant, Samual, and Contessa stood together facing him. The head of the guard, Rutgar, stood at the door. And Pieta stood behind her chair at the fireplace. Even at this distance Owen could sense the stillness, the dangeroustension in her. If Johnston was aware of it, he showed no sign. He stood with his legs spread wide and his hands on his hips, looking about him with a lazy arrogance.
“You didn’t come here to admire the hangings,” Chancellor said. “State your business.”
“I apologize, Chancellor,” Johnston said. “It is such a long time since I have seen the old hall.” The words were polite but the tone was not, and Owen knew that the man was mocking Chancellor.
“Get on with it, Johnston,” Pieta growled. The man put his fingers to his lips.
“Hush, little one,” he said. “Such a long sleep.”
Owen didn’t know what he was talking about, but he heard Cati's sharp intake of breath, so he knew it was serious. He expected to see the long whip of magno snaking out toward the man. But Pieta bit her lip and turned away, burying her head in her shoulder as if to hide a terrible grief.
“Make your parley, Johnston, and go!” snapped Rutgar.
“Yes,” said Johnston, “the parley. That is the reason I’m here. I am ready to offer terms.”
“What terms?” asked Chancellor. There was anxiety in his voice.
“These are the terms. You abandon all defense of this place and I will return you to the Sleep, long and dreamless, for eternity.”
“And what advantage is there in that?” the Sub-Commandant asked.
“My Watcher friend,” Johnston said softly—Owenfelt that there was respect mixed with loathing in his tone—”how long have we Watched each other over the centuries, not growing old, but growing weary? You alone of these people know me and know when I am speaking the truth, so listen to me now. The other choice is dying here, for we intend to annihilate you and all of your works. But if you let me put you to sleep, then at least you are alive and have—not hope, for there is no hope, but the illusion of hope that a new day might come and you might wake again.”
“It is an offer we must consider,” Samual said.
“Consider nothing!”
A voice cut across the debate like a whiplash. It was Contessa's, Owen was surprised to notice. She strode across the room until she was standing eye to eye with Johnston.
“You think he would put us to sleep? Maybe he would. And the next thing would be a blade in the throat, or carried out into the everlasting cold and frozen to death. What he is offering is not a choice.”
“I would certainly keep you awake a little longer than the others,” Johnston said in a musing
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