hands
of the cat-men, and now we know why. I guessed earlier, when I spoke to Reidel,
that somewhere in the darkening lands, someone or something is experimenting
with unlicensed and forbidden matrix stones, trying to work with telepath
powers; to harness these forces outside the wardenship of the Comyn and the
Seven Domains. Men have done this before. But as far as I know, this is the
first time any nonhuman race has tried to do so."
Suddenly Damon shuddered, as if with cold or fear. He reached blindly for
Ellemir's hand, as if to reassure himself of something solid and warm.
As if, thought Andrew, he were in darkness and fear like Callista's.
"And they have done it! They have made the darkening lands uninhabitable to
mankind! They can come on us with invisible weapons, and even Leonie could not
find Callista when they had hidden her under their darkness! And they are
strong, Zandru seize them with scorpions! They are strong. I am Tower-trained,
but they flung me out of their level, into a storm I could not overcome. They
mastered me as if I were a child! Gods! Gods! Are we helpless against them,
then? Is it hopeless?"
He buried his face in his hands, shuddering. Andrew looked at him in surprise
and consternation. Then, slowly, he spoke, reaching out to lay his hand on
Damon's shoulder.
"Don't do that," he said. "That doesn't help anybody. Look, you just pointed out
that Callista still has her powers, whatever they are. And she can reach me.
Maybe, just maybe- I don't know anything about this kind of thing, or whatever
wars and feuds you have in your world, but I do know about Callista, and I-I
care a lot about her. Maybe there's some way I can find out where she is- help
get her back for you."
Damon raised his face, white and drawn, and looked at the Earthman in wild
surmise. "You know," he said to Andrew, "you're right. I hadn't thought of that.
You can still reach Callista. I don't know why, or how, it happened, or even
what we can do with it, but it's the one hope we have. You can reach Callista.
And she can come to you, when another Keeper can't reach her, when her own twin
is barred away from her. It may not be completely hopeless after all."
He reached out and gripped Andrew's hands, and somehow the Terran sensed that
for him this was a very unusual thing, that touch, among telepaths, was reserved
for close intimacy. It put him almost unendurably in touch with Damon for an
instant-Damon's exhaustion and fear, his desperate worry about his young
cousins, his own deeper doubts and terrors about his own inability to meet this
challenge, his horror of the overworld, his deep and desperate doubts of his
very manhood. For a moment Andrew wanted to withdraw, to reject this undesired
intimacy which Damon, at the end of his endurance, had thrust on him; then he
met Ellemir's eyes, and they were so much like Callista's now, pleading, no
longer scornful, so full of fear for Damon (Why, she loves him, Andrew thought
in a flash; he doesn't seem much of a man to me either, but she loves him, even
if she doesn't know it) that he could not refuse their plea. They were
Callista's people, and he loved Callista, and for better or worse he was
entangled in their affairs. I'd better get used to it now, he thought, and in a
clumsy surge of something almost like affection, he put his arm around Damon's
shoulders and hugged the other man roughly. "Don't you worry so much," he said.
"I'll do what I can. Sit down, now, before you collapse. What in the hell have
you been doing to yourself, anyway?"
He shoved Damon down on the bench before the fire. The unendurable contact
lessened, dropped away. Andrew felt confused and a little dismayed at the
intensity of the emotion that had surged up. It was like having a kid brother,
he thought, cloudily. He's not strong enough for this kind of thing. It struck
him that Damon was older than he was and far more experienced in these curious
contacts, but he still felt older, protective.
Damon
of the cat-men, and now we know why. I guessed earlier, when I spoke to Reidel,
that somewhere in the darkening lands, someone or something is experimenting
with unlicensed and forbidden matrix stones, trying to work with telepath
powers; to harness these forces outside the wardenship of the Comyn and the
Seven Domains. Men have done this before. But as far as I know, this is the
first time any nonhuman race has tried to do so."
Suddenly Damon shuddered, as if with cold or fear. He reached blindly for
Ellemir's hand, as if to reassure himself of something solid and warm.
As if, thought Andrew, he were in darkness and fear like Callista's.
"And they have done it! They have made the darkening lands uninhabitable to
mankind! They can come on us with invisible weapons, and even Leonie could not
find Callista when they had hidden her under their darkness! And they are
strong, Zandru seize them with scorpions! They are strong. I am Tower-trained,
but they flung me out of their level, into a storm I could not overcome. They
mastered me as if I were a child! Gods! Gods! Are we helpless against them,
then? Is it hopeless?"
He buried his face in his hands, shuddering. Andrew looked at him in surprise
and consternation. Then, slowly, he spoke, reaching out to lay his hand on
Damon's shoulder.
"Don't do that," he said. "That doesn't help anybody. Look, you just pointed out
that Callista still has her powers, whatever they are. And she can reach me.
Maybe, just maybe- I don't know anything about this kind of thing, or whatever
wars and feuds you have in your world, but I do know about Callista, and I-I
care a lot about her. Maybe there's some way I can find out where she is- help
get her back for you."
Damon raised his face, white and drawn, and looked at the Earthman in wild
surmise. "You know," he said to Andrew, "you're right. I hadn't thought of that.
You can still reach Callista. I don't know why, or how, it happened, or even
what we can do with it, but it's the one hope we have. You can reach Callista.
And she can come to you, when another Keeper can't reach her, when her own twin
is barred away from her. It may not be completely hopeless after all."
He reached out and gripped Andrew's hands, and somehow the Terran sensed that
for him this was a very unusual thing, that touch, among telepaths, was reserved
for close intimacy. It put him almost unendurably in touch with Damon for an
instant-Damon's exhaustion and fear, his desperate worry about his young
cousins, his own deeper doubts and terrors about his own inability to meet this
challenge, his horror of the overworld, his deep and desperate doubts of his
very manhood. For a moment Andrew wanted to withdraw, to reject this undesired
intimacy which Damon, at the end of his endurance, had thrust on him; then he
met Ellemir's eyes, and they were so much like Callista's now, pleading, no
longer scornful, so full of fear for Damon (Why, she loves him, Andrew thought
in a flash; he doesn't seem much of a man to me either, but she loves him, even
if she doesn't know it) that he could not refuse their plea. They were
Callista's people, and he loved Callista, and for better or worse he was
entangled in their affairs. I'd better get used to it now, he thought, and in a
clumsy surge of something almost like affection, he put his arm around Damon's
shoulders and hugged the other man roughly. "Don't you worry so much," he said.
"I'll do what I can. Sit down, now, before you collapse. What in the hell have
you been doing to yourself, anyway?"
He shoved Damon down on the bench before the fire. The unendurable contact
lessened, dropped away. Andrew felt confused and a little dismayed at the
intensity of the emotion that had surged up. It was like having a kid brother,
he thought, cloudily. He's not strong enough for this kind of thing. It struck
him that Damon was older than he was and far more experienced in these curious
contacts, but he still felt older, protective.
Damon
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