The navigator by Eoin McNamee

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--Owen
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    felt 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 tone.
    "I agree with Contessa," the Sub-Commandant said.
    "I agree," Pieta said quietly.
    Samual shook his head and said nothing.
    "I agree also," Rutgar boomed.
    Chancellor looked at the floor as if he might find wisdom there. After a long time he lifted his head and spoke. "It seems as if I too have to agree."
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    "You haven't seen the forces I have gathered," Johnston said in a menacing voice. "The largest and strongest I have ever had, and if I am not mistaken, you are weaker than ever. Your little incursion across the river the other night will not have seen any of our strength. If that was the reason for it." He looked at the Sub-Commandant with a raised eyebrow, then gazed about the hall.
    Although Owen and Cati knew that he could not see them, they both shrank back into the shadows, and Cati whimpered as if she could feel the cold again. Owen put out his hand to touch hers. Her skin was cold to the touch, very cold, and he remembered what Contessa had said about the effects of the Harsh being permanent.
    "It is time for you to leave now," the Sub-Commandant said. His voice was quiet but there was steel in his tone.
    "Fair enough," Johnston said, "but we won't be seeing each other again, Sub-Commandant. This is the last time."
    There seemed to be sorrow in his voice, but his eyes were glinting under their heavy brows. Johnston turned and strode from the hall, Rutgar keeping pace close behind. Even from a height, Owen could feel the tension drain from the hall. He saw Contessa go over to Pieta and put an arm around her shoulder, whispering to her gently.
    "What's wrong with Pieta?" Owen said.
    "Her children sleep and do not wake," Cati said. "Every night she sits over them and calls their names and still they do not wake."
    Owen said nothing. He thought about Pieta standing
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    over a child in the Starry, calling and calling, and suddenly the fierce warrior seemed smaller and less fierce. He could see her loneliness and sorrow in the slump of her shoulders until suddenly she shrugged Contessa off, almost in anger. She walked swiftly from the hall. Contessa reached out a hand to touch her as she stalked past.
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    There was a