proper time?’
‘I am no longer your Student.’
‘You made that quite clear some time ago.’
The onyx eyes were all pupil, black and glittery, locked with Ronin’s. An electric charge built itself in the room.
‘All right,’ the Salamander said finally. ‘All right. Sit down. Be assured that I have an answer for you. At least let me reach it at my own pace.’
The gates opened across the room and Voss appeared as if by a signal. He came immediately across to them and stood in front of the Salamander, who said, ‘Open the Lens.’
Voss shot Ronin a quick glance, then nodded and went out through a narrow door behind them that Ronin had failed to notice before.
‘Now where were we?’ The Salamander cocked his head. ‘Ah, yes, my not so humble quarters. They are extensive. When you were last here, you saw only what all my Students are allowed to see. You could have—’ He shook his head. ‘But old ground is pointless.’ He rubbed his hands down the smooth wood of the arms. ‘I have an entire Sector, you know.’
Ronin was surprised in spite of himself. ‘No, I did not.’
He nodded. ‘But that is only part of it, an insignificant part. Decoration, one might say. One impresses those who must be impressed. For the rest, it is all pleasure. And it is only the tip, having it. Getting it, that is what counts. To do that, one needs but one item: Power.’ He leaned forward. ‘I have it.’
‘So it is said.’
The onyx eyes bored into him.
‘You do not fear it,’ the Salamander said, not without some contempt. ‘That is a mistake.’
‘I do not worship it.’
‘You would do well to heed me.’
‘That time—’
‘Yes, quite.’ The Salamander rose gracefully. ‘If you will follow me.’
He crossed to the narrow door and led Ronin into darkness.
Light that bloomed in front of him was dim and faded, the colours smeary and washed out, as if, having been painted quickly and tentatively on canvas, they were now covered in a fine film of dust.
He saw himself as a small child, and everything looked too large for him to use. He was in a room filled with stifled silence. It was very hot and he pulled at the collar of his shirt. It seemed he could not breathe. He wished his sister were here. She was very young, her features still forming, but he loved her. She would come to him when she was sad or lonely or had had a fight, and he would comfort her, help her, protect her. And then she would laugh and hug him around the waist and her happiness would transmit itself to him. She could make him smile. Why isn’t she here, why are all these people here, what’s wrong? Someone said: ‘It is no use, they have called it off.’ A figure loomed over him. What’s wrong, what’s wrong? The figure said: ‘Your sister is dead. Can you understand that? Dead.’ He began to cry. The figure slapped him hard. Someone said: ‘He is too young.’ The figure hit him again and again until he stopped.
‘—in this room.’ It was small, lit only by points of glowing green light, winking like jewels from some far-off city. Ronin rubbed briefly at his eyes.
‘Very few people have been in this room,’ the Salamander continued. ‘Very few people even know of its existence.’ Voss was sitting before a metal box, low and wide, from the centre of which an oval cylinder projected perhaps a metre into the air. His hands were busy moving across a complex control panel. ‘Do you follow me?’ The Salamander moved behind Voss, put a jewelled hand on his shoulder. ‘I think that you were wise to stay a while longer.’
He turned and the tiny jet eyes at his throat flashed, reflecting flatly the hard green light. The lizard’s body had taken on a dull, dusky hue, like the film on stagnant water. ‘This Magic Man, is he sane or mad? You are unsure.’
He lifted his arm, the palm of his hand standing out dead white against the dense black of his robes—even the scarlet sash was turned black by the strange light.
‘I am no longer your Student.’
‘You made that quite clear some time ago.’
The onyx eyes were all pupil, black and glittery, locked with Ronin’s. An electric charge built itself in the room.
‘All right,’ the Salamander said finally. ‘All right. Sit down. Be assured that I have an answer for you. At least let me reach it at my own pace.’
The gates opened across the room and Voss appeared as if by a signal. He came immediately across to them and stood in front of the Salamander, who said, ‘Open the Lens.’
Voss shot Ronin a quick glance, then nodded and went out through a narrow door behind them that Ronin had failed to notice before.
‘Now where were we?’ The Salamander cocked his head. ‘Ah, yes, my not so humble quarters. They are extensive. When you were last here, you saw only what all my Students are allowed to see. You could have—’ He shook his head. ‘But old ground is pointless.’ He rubbed his hands down the smooth wood of the arms. ‘I have an entire Sector, you know.’
Ronin was surprised in spite of himself. ‘No, I did not.’
He nodded. ‘But that is only part of it, an insignificant part. Decoration, one might say. One impresses those who must be impressed. For the rest, it is all pleasure. And it is only the tip, having it. Getting it, that is what counts. To do that, one needs but one item: Power.’ He leaned forward. ‘I have it.’
‘So it is said.’
The onyx eyes bored into him.
‘You do not fear it,’ the Salamander said, not without some contempt. ‘That is a mistake.’
‘I do not worship it.’
‘You would do well to heed me.’
‘That time—’
‘Yes, quite.’ The Salamander rose gracefully. ‘If you will follow me.’
He crossed to the narrow door and led Ronin into darkness.
Light that bloomed in front of him was dim and faded, the colours smeary and washed out, as if, having been painted quickly and tentatively on canvas, they were now covered in a fine film of dust.
He saw himself as a small child, and everything looked too large for him to use. He was in a room filled with stifled silence. It was very hot and he pulled at the collar of his shirt. It seemed he could not breathe. He wished his sister were here. She was very young, her features still forming, but he loved her. She would come to him when she was sad or lonely or had had a fight, and he would comfort her, help her, protect her. And then she would laugh and hug him around the waist and her happiness would transmit itself to him. She could make him smile. Why isn’t she here, why are all these people here, what’s wrong? Someone said: ‘It is no use, they have called it off.’ A figure loomed over him. What’s wrong, what’s wrong? The figure said: ‘Your sister is dead. Can you understand that? Dead.’ He began to cry. The figure slapped him hard. Someone said: ‘He is too young.’ The figure hit him again and again until he stopped.
‘—in this room.’ It was small, lit only by points of glowing green light, winking like jewels from some far-off city. Ronin rubbed briefly at his eyes.
‘Very few people have been in this room,’ the Salamander continued. ‘Very few people even know of its existence.’ Voss was sitting before a metal box, low and wide, from the centre of which an oval cylinder projected perhaps a metre into the air. His hands were busy moving across a complex control panel. ‘Do you follow me?’ The Salamander moved behind Voss, put a jewelled hand on his shoulder. ‘I think that you were wise to stay a while longer.’
He turned and the tiny jet eyes at his throat flashed, reflecting flatly the hard green light. The lizard’s body had taken on a dull, dusky hue, like the film on stagnant water. ‘This Magic Man, is he sane or mad? You are unsure.’
He lifted his arm, the palm of his hand standing out dead white against the dense black of his robes—even the scarlet sash was turned black by the strange light.
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