Darkness surrounded me, and the wind roared. i spun and twisted and screamed and screamed and screamed, and there was no sound, or the world was full of sound, i couldn't tell. Flashes of crystallized memory flew past me, dazzling me, and there was a sound, one hand clapping. The world exploded around me and turned inwards on itself. And i woke up. Sort of. * * * i was in a room. Curious, that. i started to stand up, and realized i was already standing. i started to speak, but the words just wouldn't form. "What's going on?" i wondered. And then, a more important question: "Where am i?" And realizing i didn't know that either, i had to ask the most primal question: "_Who_ am i?" Looking at myself proved nothing. Or rather, trying to look at myself. i tried to glance at my chest, just to figure out if i was male or female, and it was like looking into infinity. Sheer blackness, spangled with stars. What was going on? i had the vague impression that this wasn't right. i raised what i thought was a hand, looked, and there was a roaring fire. i shook my ... head? and looked again, and then it was a growing tree. The images seemed vaguely familiar, but everything was so confused. The room whirled around me, and started to dissolve again. "Not the darkness again... please, not the darkness!" The words must have been coming from me, because there seemed to be no one else, but i didn't feel like i was saying anything ... i didn't feel like i was doing anything at all. As the world shredded around me, i was on the ground, almost sobbing, but not remembering how. * * * Things were getting better. The senseless drift through the void still was an eternity of waiting, but when i reappeared, the room had changed. Now, it seemed to be furnished, instead of the bare white walls it had been before. It seemed to be about 40 feet on a side, a perfect cube. The walls were dark stone, like most walls were. How did i know that? My memory seemed patchy, to say the least. i had vague feelings that i had been here before, yet i couldn't remember anything about it. i was able to recall some things, but i still had no idea where i was. And the bursts of color i saw when i tried to examine myself showed i still had no idea who i was. i said the room was furnished. It was, in a sense. It was well-lit, though i could see no source for light. The walls were bare, save for a large full-body mirror on one wall. There were a number of pedestals, marble or something, scattered about the room. Six of them. Five seemed to have something sitting on top. A pack of cards on one, a necklace, a small wooden chair, an iron dagger, a clear glass box. The last was empty. It was crazy. A random assortment of objects, a room who knows where, and a mirror. A mirror. What would you have done? i know what i did. i ran to the mirror. if i could just see my face, i felt, it would all be okay. if i could ... but the mirror was empty. The glass reflected only the room around me. i felt my reality start to slip away, as i continued to stare right through myself. i shook my head, violently. The room ceased its motion, and i was steady again. The void was holding back, for now. i staggered away from the mirror, almost falling. One step, and then a second. i couldn't quite tear my gaze away again, but i couldn't look right at it either. Another step backwards, another, another. Until i bumped into a pedestal. i started to stumble, and reached a hand out to steady myself. My hand brushed the edge of the chair. The world melted. * * * A flood of relief went over me as I realized I had not returned to the darkness. I looked around the room I was in. It was a tavern of some sort. A warm fire burned in a fireplace in one wall, wooden tables were scattered about, bar-wenches responded to the patron's shouts for ale. A typical sort of place. I looked down at myself. And through myself. I didn't seem to have become any more real. As I was thinking, I failed to notice a barmaid walking towards me. I started to step to the side, and she walked through me! I seemed to have no more reality than a ghost here. It was like I was in a dream, or a play, or ... a memory. _Yes_. That was it, I was suddenly sure. I was in a memory, an observer to a remembrance. Now sounds started to filter in as well: the fire's crackling, glasses clinking, people talking amongst themselves or calling out for wine. My gaze wandered around the room, watching the different patrons. Without noticing it, my vision gradually fixated on one man, sitting at a table by himself. The table was for two, and there was a second chair drawn up. And a second ale, besides the one the man was drinking. The man himself looked perhaps twenty or thirty. Dressed in traveller's clothes. Absolutely indistinguishable from any other, save that when his robes shifted, a golden necklace was exposed from its concealment inside his shirt. Something was important here. I leaned closer, to get a better view of the man. I wanted to see his face, but it was hidden by a hood, pulled low. I moved sideways slightly. I could almost see it, and then ... and then. It was like riding on a ship over calm seas, and then suddenly being in the midst of a hurricane. The room tossed and heaved, and began to break apart. Not the material of the inn, but its image, its very reality shattered and was ripped apart by storms. And it all vanished, and I was cut loose from everything again. And i was in darkness for a very long time. Waves of despair washed over me for a thousand thousand years, or perhaps it was only a second, and there was no sound, and no feeling, and i was drowning despite the lack of water. And as i drifted, sad and lost, each memory was slowly lost to the hungry void, and soon i forgot all that i had seen. * * * Finally, i pulled myself out again. i shook, feeling like the only survivor of a shipwreck. i pulled myself upright, not even bothering to look at myself, knowing i wouldn't find anything. i looked around myself. i remembered a little more now, but couldn't recall anything before the blackness. Except that i knew i had been here before, and something had happened. But mostly my memories were of despair, of years of fear in the terrible darkness. So i was back in the original room again. The pedestals were still there, but i now remembered one was missing. The pedestal and the chair had vanished entirely. i re-examined the pillars now, seeing what they were again. One caught my eye. It was the necklace. i was sure i had seen it before somewhere. Somewhere, but i couldn't quite place where. i picked it up and looked at it more closely. It was a locket, to be specific. A golden locket on a golden chain. i wondered what was inside. The catch popped open, and i looked. The portrait was of a woman with long brown hair, quite beautiful. And familiar. Very familiar. My sheer lack of memories hit home as i realized i wasn't even sure how she was related to me: was she my wife, my sister, my mother ... ? Damn. i needed to know more. But the world was drifting even as i appraised her, and so by the time i had completed the thought, i was elsewhere. * * * Now I was standing on green grass. Outside, in some forest clearing. Trees formed the border, and wildflowers were scattered around in a wild rainbow. Sitting on the grass were a boy and a girl. They were each perhaps thirteen. I couldn't be sure, because the boy's back was to me, and all I could see was his black hair. He was staring into the girl's eyes, and speaking in a soft voice. She stared back at him, looking right through me. The girl's brown hair cascaded down her back, framing her face with its brown eyes. She would be quite beautiful when she was older, I thought distractedly. Now their conversation was becoming audible. She was saying "But you mustn't ... I am not promised yet, but you know my father favors your br--" The boy broke in angrily. "Always it must be my brother first! Always! I will have none of it. I am far more worthy of the title than he, more worthy of ... I - I - I want so much! And yet it is denied to me. Always!" I realized I knew these words, like I knew the stories I was told as a child. As a child? So I was not young. That at least proved something. But any thoughts of my childhood slipped away too fast to learn more. The girl smiled, but then sighed. "Ah, ever so hasty. You do not have the title, nor will you, with your haste and angry ways." The boy seemed chastened. "No, you are right, Eletha. I am over hasty, and foolish, and quick to anger." He sighed loudly. I found myself grinning at his overdone response. "But still, I am better than he. I will not get the title, no. And I think that when he becomes Lord, I shall need to move onwards. But now ... Now, he is not Lord. And you are here. And you are not promised now." She gazed at him, and smiled, a beautiful smile. "I am not promised now." The girl leaned forwards, and the two kissed, for an instant. There was a crashing in the trees, and the two were suddenly ripped apart by unseen forces. It was as if hands had torn them apart, but there were no hands to be seen. I ducked automatically, even though I did not think I could not be hurt. There emerged from the trees a powerful-looking young lad of perhaps fifteen. He was tall, his hair was blond. His blue eyes flashed with anger. "How dare you two! She is promised!" The newcomer seemed to calm. He continued in a tone of voice that was more hurt than angry: "Thou art promised to me." The girl was standing up from the ground, where she and the boy had been flung. "I ... I am sorry, Gert. I do not know ... " She took a step towards Gert, her tears starting to trickle down. Gert reached out a hand to her, and started to pull her close. He was suddenly knocked to the ground, by a blow from another unseen hand. The first boy was standing, shaking with rage. "Curse you, Gert! Why did you interrupt us? Just because her father has chosen you, must you deny me everything?" Gert slowly got to his feet again. "Do not do that again, brother. She is promised now, and I will not have you stealing her away from me. How she could think ... Eletha, how could you prefer him?" His tone was sorrowful. Eletha moved to stand next to Gert again. "I am promised to you now, Gert." I was not quite sure what to think as I watched the scene. It looked familiar, but I was not yet able to place why. The girl definitely looked like ... that was it. The woman in the locket was the girl of this scene. And as I realized this, the three teens seemed to freeze in a tableau. Gert standing, staring at the other boy with a calm expression, but anger glinted in his eyes. The other boy was looking at Gert and Eletha, rage now barely contained. Eletha's face was flat, totally expressionless. And then the scene shifted, and I looked upon a new place. --- It was not the void again this time, nor the original room. It was a simpler transition of memory. I was observing a funeral. A casket had just been sealed, and the black wooden coffin buried. Standing around were a number of people, all dressed in mourning-clothes. Gert was kneeling by the grave, sobbing. Eletha also was nearby, the tears running down her cheeks, falling on the soft earth below. They looked older now, perhaps they were twenty or thereabouts. Eletha looked almost like the locket picture now. Gert was still tall and blond, and his blue eyes sparkled with the tears. He was now big, and muscular, but in a smooth, refined way. I listened to the priest speak the words of burial, and the others responded at the proscribed times. There were dozens of others besides Gert and Eletha; the funeral was definitely one for a rich or powerful man. Perhaps a lord. That idea was confirmed when the priest completed the service, and Gert stepped up and began to speak. "I thank those of you who have attended today," he said. "The death of my father --" Gert paused for a shuddering breath "-- has affected us all greatly. We mourn the passing of a great lord, one who was both kind and just, a master of both the sword and the spirit. His works will not be forgotten. I am proud to be asked to carry on his legacy, as the new Lord." There was murmuring from the crowd. Some seemed surprised, some happy. Gert continued his speech. "But our sadness on this day should be balanced with a second announcement. The Lady Eletha has consented to wed me. The marriage will be one week from today." Hesitantly at first, and then loudly, the crowd began to applaud the news. Eletha seemed quite a favorite among them. Only one did not applaud, a man in a cloak at the back of the crowd. I found my gaze moving closer to him. I could not see inside his hood, but he was, I was sure, the same boy from the earlier memory, presumably now older. Why he came in disguise, I was not sure. Gert was speaking again. "Naturally, my brother will be supported here as long as he chooses to remain. Apparently he was unable to find the time to attend this funeral --" Gert's voice was completely controlled, and razor- sharp, "-- but I am _sure_ he will be at the wedding to see Eletha be wed ... to me." The cloaked man watched the speech silently. When Gert had finished speaking, he started to fade away with the disappearing crowd. There was a thunderclap from above. The sunny day had turned to rain as Gert talked. Now, rain started to drizzle down. The rain passed right through me, but as it sank into the ground, the memory faded and washed away. And i was swept into blackness again. * * * Just when you think you have things under control, they go and change it on you. i had things to think about now, facts to try and assimilate, holes in my memory that were slowly being filled. i felt like i was trying to repair a moth-eaten cloak, one stitch at a time. i think i could have borne the despair of the void, this time, or at least not turned into a total wreck again after infinite drifting. So, of course, it changed. This time i was in pain. Not just any pain. Total pain. i was dipped into a vat of acid, and slowly eaten alive over a period of minutes ... weeks ... years? i couldn't tell. Time was denied me here. i could just drift, and scream. Of course, i couldn't hear myself scream. Sound too was denied me. But to scream made me feel better. But to return to the pain. First, my being was dissolved utterly. i was flayed and burnt and dissolved, eaten away. Killed a hundred thousand times, and never actually dying. i was never given a chance to see myself, to see what actually was happening to me and what was just a trick of my memory-crazed mind. The pain was forever, just as the void was. Each memory i had gained was burned slowly from my brain as i was tortured. All that i had learned in the previous memory-scenes were taken from me, overwritten with pain and screams. But eventually the pain was over, and again i stood in the room, brooding over the few scraps of memory that i had managed to preserve. * * * This time i remembered what the room looked like before, and saw that another pedestal had vanished, as i had half-expected. Now four pedestals stood there. One bore a dagger, made of iron. One had a glass case sitting on top of it, the sort that would display works of art in a museum. The third had a deck of gambler's cards, and the last was empty. i think. As i stared at it, i seemed to catch a glimpse, of something silver. But that quickly faded, and again it was empty. By this point, i was sure i needed to find another memory to catch onto. i wanted to find out more about Gert, and Eletha, and the dark-haired man. i _needed_ to. They were the key to me getting out ... and finding out who i was. And somebody seemed to be helping me remember. These objects, all triggering memories. Where was i? i still had no idea. i wanted to get out though. So. Another pedestal. But which one? i couldn't remember what memory i had just looked at. Pain and suffering blocked it out. So i wasn't sure where to go next: the dagger, the cards, the glass case, or the empty pedestal. i shrugged. it seemed almost funny. i ached still from the pain, but the ache was all in my mind. i had no body anymore. So i could ignore everything, except that i was hollow inside, and had no _self_. It didn't matter; i closed my eyes (though i couldn't see them), and spun around. i walked forward until i bumped into a pedestal. It was the one with the glass case. i could only hope to find out more, and hold onto more this time. i reached out my hand. My finger brushed the surface, and the world lurched. i tumbled through the floor, and fell into memory one more time. * * * I was soaring, a bird. My persona drifted past scenes ... a brown-haired woman laughing, two boys tussling on the ground, a marriage scene (Gert and Eletha, women throwing flowers, a white dress, a kiss), something ... crystal? I seemed to slow in my frenzied journey for a minute. Yes, there it was. A memory, somehow solid, fluttering about like a living thing. I reached out and felt it, for a minute. I gained a sensation ... three gemstones, clear as water. Each formed into a geodesic dome, a hemisphere. There was something between them. I looked closer. A smaller memory poofed in out of nowhere: it was a man speaking. The man looked familiar - but I couldn't remember where I'd seen him before. "The Tyestones," he said, as if explaining to a student, "as you know, are antiques, passed down in our family for seven generations now. They were crafted by the first member of the family to show any talent, Aester Danen, your namesake. They allow those of us with any talent to communicate through them; you and your brother should use them quite easily, once we show you how. We don't know how they were built - no one has the training now to do it, even if we had the Talent. You two have the Talent. Perhaps eventually you may get the skills. Suffice it to say they are linked, the three of them. But of course this value is less important than their value as artifacts. By these crystals, we remember our past, just as we look at the paintings of our ancestors." The memory seemed to be slipping away from me. I struggled to hold onto it. A second voice appeared, but the speaker was not shown. "Why do I have to listen to this? It's not like I even get to keep one anyway. You have one, and mother has one, and the other is in the display case. And of course you're going to give it to _him_ when he gets older. It's unfair! Just because he's older, everyone likes him better!" The man spoke again, responding to the voice. "Listen to me. I have yet to decide *who* to give it to. Your mother is ailing, besides, and soon I fear she will no longer need hers. I promise you that if you earn it, and show respect for it, I will give one to you." The second voice: "O! Thank you father, thank you!" Then its tone changed from joyous to worried. "Do you really believe mother is very sick? She seemed fine when I last spoke with her ..." "She is ill, son, very ill. Dying from the inside ... I fear in her last years, we have neglected you two ... left you to work things out for yourself ..." And the memory twisted away, and was gone. I was swept back into the river of scattered picture-thoughts. But they seemed to be changing for the worse, growing grimmer as I flew past. A voice, a man's voice. Dark hair. Whispered pleading. A soft rustling, shadows. Bird's wings. Two figures, plotting. A hand, gesturing in a most unsavory manner. A large tome, open to words that flinched away from my sight. The three gemstones. Flashing eyes. More angry voices. Murmurs ... chanting. A payment in blood. The three gemstones. An hourglass, sand sliding slowly downwards. Winter, when the leaves die. A year has passed. The three gemstones. A descent. Nightfall. Moonlight. Shadows. The city streets by night. The visions slowed their pace, as if I had entered into the important part. I was hovering above the streets of a city, now, perhaps a dozen feet above the cobbles. I could hear the ocean. I must be at the waterfront. There was a deserted warehouse in front of me. A black alley cat slunk along, its yellow eyes gleaming. It saw a lonely mouse, and pounced. Another figure in black appeared. He was heavily cloaked. He walked over to the warehouse just as the city's clocks were striking the midnight hour. He looked around, then glanced again at a scrap of paper in his hand. The note was written in an easy, flowing hand. It read "Meet me at the warehouse on the docks at midnight - E" The figure seemed to decide he could not see well enough hooded, because he threw off his hood. It was the black-haired man, from earliest vision. That was apparently enough for whoever guided these memories, because the scene suddenly changed. Now I was in an elegantly-furnished bedroom. The clock was chiming the last note. A woman lay on the bed, sleeping. Her brown hair lay peacefully about her beautiful face - both proclaiming her to be Eletha. She now looked exactly like the woman in the locket's picture. Slowly, the bedroom window swung open. And almost unnaturally silently. Eletha did not wake. Moonlight entered the room. A shadow was cast onto the rug, a man's shadow. Eletha did not wake. The shadow crept across the floor. Closer. It was crawling towards Eletha, and she slept. The shadow fell on her face. There was someone else in the room. Eletha slept. Silver moonlight made the knife's blade shine as it struck. New scene: a library. On one wall, a glass case rested. Inside, a crystal hemisphere. Very familiar. And as I watched, the case opened, without a hand touching it. The gem floated up as if supported by invisible hands, and then disappeared. The case shut, and the scene changed again. Now, a somber scene. Gert stood behind a podium at the front of a large room. It was filled with silent people. Next to Gert, his hands shackled with golden metal, sat the dark-haired man - Gert's brother. A man in the back of the room rose. He was dressed all in black, and seemed to be reciting as if from a memorized script. He spoke in a monotone. "The House finds the man guilty of murder. The House finds the man guilty of the theft of a Tyestone. The sentence will be given by the ranking Lord of the area. Lord Gert, speak." Gert spoke. "Despite the fact that the Tyestones are a family artifact, and are now lost. Despite the fact that --" Gert restrained a sob, barely, "-- the woman he murdered was my wife, of only a year. Despite that he will not speak where he was on that night, and that he is known to have ... lusted ... after my wife and resented my ascension to Lordship, none of which he denies. Despite that he has resisted all of the Questioning. Despite all this, he is my brother, and I cannot slay him. Rather, I banish him. No longer is he blood. No longer will he stay here. He must go. He is no longer Second Heir to the Lordship of Astrila. He is now only --" Gert's words seemed accompanied by a great roaring sound, that none but me could hear. It was as if a mighty beast howled, lost and alone in the night. I was straining to hear this, as if it were my death if I were not to hear the name. I listened, and Gert spoke the two words. "He is only Esto Danen." With those two words, a bond was lifted off my soul, and I flew upwards like a bird. So when i was ripped from this memory and thrust into darkness, it ached all the more. * * * i think it is true that you cannot hurt a man who does not know his name. All the torment i suffered before, the years of loneliness, the acid, the all-consuming despair, the endless memory loss ... these were nothing. Now i had a name. And the name was a pathway to my heart. When i drifted in the blackness, the pain was infinitely worse, the loneliness far greater. i knew who i was, and i could feel myself being hurt. Yet it was the name that kept me sane. i spoke it and spoke it, over and over again, blotting out the pain and the darkness, repeating it until my voice grew thin and raspy. Raspy? it seemed like ... well, it seemed like my body was returning. My voice could get worse now, a sign that perhaps i had a throat to get sore. But i was still not altogether there, and as long as i drifted in the blackness, i could see nothing. At least i had a name, though ... Esto, Esto, Esto ... The name was like a mantra. I felt as though i was wandering the desert in the heat of the sun, and still I muttered Esto with parched tongue. i was freezing in the icy north, and yet with numbed lips, i repeated the name. It boomed in the vaccuum, the two syllables lasting forever. i lost most else - each memory slipping out of my grasp in turn. But the name stayed with me. i held onto that until finally, like a whale breaking through the water's surface, i emerged from darkness, and was in the room again. * * * i glared wildly about the room. Three pillars left. Dagger, cards, empty pillar. Again, i could barely make out a silver twinkling in the corner of my eye as i glanced at the empty pillar, and again it vanished. Esto, Esto, Esto. The name ran through my head over and over again, a song from an unknown singer. i had to know more than this, though. i was Esto. Who was Esto? Who am i? The white walls of the room seemed suddenly oppressive. i was being closed in, and i longed to fly away from here. The room had never seemed small before, but now i felt like i was trapped, crushed, confined. i had to get out. i looked around, the walls, the pillars, the mirror, the walls, the ... Wait! The mirror! i stood before the mirror, and looked in. Reflected, i could see the three pillars behind me, the white walls, and ... and me. A man stood in the mirror, looking back at me. Raven-black hair, blue cloak about his body, worn traveller's clothes and a dagger tucked into his belt. It was me. But tears began to force themselves out as i looked, and saw: the reflection had no face. Not a blank patch of skin, or a dark shadow. Just no face. Like the blind spot in a man's eye. There was no face. An essential piece, missing. Again, the walls seemed to close in. i had to get out of here, away from the faceless me, had to find out more about myself before i went mad from confinement. i ran to the nearest pillar. The iron dagger seemed to call to me now. i picked it up. Its hilt was cool in my hands, the leather contrasting with the dull glint of the blade. i screamed, raised it, and plunged it into my breast. As the tip pricked me, i travelled outwards. * * * The quick journey through scattered memories, until I looked upon Esto once more. He was in a bad spot. He must have been on a drinking binge, or something, because he was in a tavern, his back to the bar. Four big men were scowling at him. Esto, standing rather unsteadily, was cursing back at them. I was glad of my state as an observer. I would not have liked to have been in the ensuing brawl. Surprisingly, Esto was not immediately knocked to the ground. His smaller size was, apparently, more than compensated for by his furious temper. Unfortunately, he was still outnumbered four to one. So his much-bruised figure was tossed from the tavern. Still spitting curses, he tried to barge back in. One of the men laughed, and grabbed Esto by the arms. Esto struggled, but he was already sore and drunk, and couldn't break free. The man lifted Esto off the ground. Esto dangled, insulting his assailant's mother and grandmother and making the worst comments about his father. The man guffawed, and spat in Esto's face. Esto was red-faced with anger, and couldn't do a thing about it. So it was a surprise to everyone when the man was suddenly smashed on the back of the head by a bar-mug. He yelped, and dropped Esto, who dashed out the back door. Esto stood in the alley, miserable and panting. He wiped the spittle off his face. A beggar was watching him, grinning through blackened teeth. "Right good show, m'lord. That trick with the mug was somethin' special too. Saw it all through the window, I did." Esto drew a long breath. "I oughta go in and slam them something good. They should know better than to cross me!" The beggar chuckled. "And get yourself thrown out again, m'lord? Not a wise move, to my way of thinking. Why, 'tis the stronger man who is able to walk away from the fight." The beggar seemed lost in thought. "I once knew a man who was just full o' those sort of sayings. We worked the streets together, maybe a year ago. He was always comin' up with these flowery words. 'Can't get no coppers with _those_ sorta words,' I told him. But he'd just rattle off about how man doesn't need the coins, and that the union and mastery whaddyacalit stuff was more important. Oh, he was a queer one," the beggar wheezed. Esto was starting to look interested. He fumbled in his belt pouch for a coin, and discovered he had one or two left. He tossed them to the beggar, who continued. "Yes, m'lord. Right generous man you are. Anyways, like I said, we worked the streets together. Then one day he up and said he was leaving. 'Nonsense,' I said, 'where you gonna go to?' But he wouldn't hear none of it. Just said he was leaving, going south. Said he was all done here, and was going back to learning. I think he was a bit ... touched, if you know what I mean." "Yes, yes, go on," Esto said impatiently. The beggar continued. "So he just up and disappeared the next day. Never seen skin nor teeth of him since. Just left me, said he was going to the desert to train his talent. Crazy." "Train his _talent_? Are you sure that's what he said?" "'Course I'm sure. Not like it meant anything, but that's what he said. He was going to find the ... uh ... the Watchers, I think, and he was going to train his talent." Esto seemed thoughtful. He thanked the man distractedly, and walked off. As he walked, he muttered "Training ... that's what I need. I didn't think there was anyone outside my family that had Talent, but I guess so ... what am I saying, outside my family? I don't have a family anymore! After my bastard brother tossed me out, after ... after she died. Damn. I need training, need to close myself off. That's the only way that makes sense. It hurts too much to be open. I lost too much. When she died, I thought I died with her ... and they thought I killed her!" He laughed, harshly. "I couldn't have killed her. I didn't kill her! I want to be trained. I want to find out how to be strong, like my brother is strong. Then I won't need him, or my family, or even her. I have to go to the desert. I have to find out how not to need people." Esto looked up from his tangled speech. Determinedly, he set off walking again, this time with a purpose. --- The scene changed, and Esto travelled along a long road. It stretched to the foot of a high hill. All around, the country was desert and flat, and wind-blown tumbleweeds. The only rise was at the end of the road, where he was heading. When the road ended at the bottom of the hill, he carefully began to climb up, picking his way through the stones and bushes. Finally, Esto stood atop the crest of the hill. He turned around, surveying the country. Winds ruffled in his hair. My viewpoint seemed to be from far away. I watched him as a distance figure, tiny atop the hill. Suddenly, my viewpoint shifted. For an instant, I felt wind in _my_ hair and stone beneath my feet. I felt sensations in the memory, thoughts rushed through my head, I opened my mouth to speak and I had a real body and ... and ... and I was back again, the silent unreal observer. Watching Esto. But for a moment, I had broken through something. Meanwhile, Esto was speaking, and I had drifted closer to hear him. "I am here, Old Ones," he said. "I am here. My father is dead. I no longer have a family. My one love is dead. I am here. Take me." "I am here." The winds whistled about him, but nothing else moved. Esto seemed to be getting annoyed. "You are here, I know it! I have found the correct spot, the correct day. I am here, I have the gift, and I have already lost all. I am willing to pay the price of knowledge!" The echo of his words mocked him. "I am willing! I have the gift! I demand you teach me! Give me the training!" The winds roared about Esto, almost as if they fed off his anger. I could feel a shadow of his emotion too, of his black mood. He was raging now. "Show me! Tell me! I have sought you out when I had no other place! I must be admitted!" Esto lashed out. Around him, rocks whirled, gripped by unseen hands and flung about. He looked surprised, and then only angrier. "You see? Proof! I have it! I have the gift! I can be strong! You _must_ show me how!" The winds vanished. The rocks dropped to the ground, as if slammed down by a god's fist. And the air was silent. Esto had been thrown to the ground by the sudden surge of ... of something. He slowly got to his feet, anger cooling. I could feel a new calmness from him, an understanding. Now he sat down, cross-legged, on the ground. The winds were still, waiting. "I see," he said softly, "I see. Give me self-control, help me to conquer my anger and fear. Show me the way to follow, and I will learn, I will make the best of my talent." A pause. "Please." And before him, a portal appeared. Gray mist swirled in the air, beckoning. Esto rose, and stepped forward. A small golden locket tumbled out of his shirt. He held it for a moment, then tucked it back in. Esto touched the portal, and vanished. The portal shimmered as it disappeared, then only the winds remained, blowing over the silent hill. --- This was another transition in memory. A few brief scenes caught my attention as I travelled on: A man, Esto, kneeling on the floor. He stared at a wooden ball on the ground before him. An old man stood behind Esto, watching. Esto stared, concentrating. The ball jiggled slightly, and then was still again. Esto cursed loudly. "I cannot do it! I cannot!" The old man spoke softly, but his voice instantly silenced Esto. "You give up too easily, young one. You have done it before, when you were angry. You try and give up the anger. That is wrong. Accept the anger, absorb it, control it. Then you will be able to tap its power, and yet not be controlled by it. You must use your anger as the warrior uses his sword." --- Esto again, holding a dusty shard of pottery. Another old man - the same? I could not tell - watched Esto. Esto rubbed it, eyes closed, and spoke. "I see ... I see a vinter buying a jug, filling it with wine. Now it sits in a dark cellar for a long time. Spider webs and rats are all that is near it. Then ... then one day, a man comes to the cellar. He picks up the jug, brings it upstairs. It is opened, and the wine is poured out. The jug is set back on the table, only to fall off and shatter. This piece ... I see it bouncing, falling into a corner ... then ..." He shook his head. "I cannot see any farther. I am sorry, Aged One." The old man's voice was level. "This was excellent, Esto. You saw a week longer than last time. Now, try again. This time, just follow the shard, do not worry about the entire jug. The whole will follow the piece." --- Now Esto stood in a deserted courtyard, empty save for him and an old man. Each held a staff. They bowed to each other, and then began to spar. I was sure I watched two experts. But Esto proved the weaker, and within moments, his staff had fallen to the ground and he was clutching sore fingers. "Do not be over-confident," his opponent said. "But you are learning." --- Esto was in a shadowy room. Before him, on a table, a single candle. I could see his eyes were fixed intently on the wick. An old woman, practically a sister to the old men, watched his face. "Draw upon the anger, novice. Take the heat of the rage within you. Distill it, and draw it out." I think I could see faint silvery lines, stretching from Esto to the candle. They slowly grew in brightness, glimmering and glittering, but somehow not piercing the darkness. "Let the anger fuel the fire. The fire, Esto, call the fire from within. The only fire that is eternal." Suddenly, I was watching the wick from a different perspective. I saw the candle, felt the anger, pulled it from the depths within _me_. _My_ sorrows and angers mixed in me, and I forced them out. I could feel the fire, burning. It was easy to transfer it, I realized how to do it. Just a twist, a push, and ... the wick burst into flames, hot flames. I sighed, sagged back, and I was back to observer. But again, there had been this joining. I was getting closer to something, I was sure. --- Now, I felt time had passed. Three years ... no, four years. Esto stood in a dark room. Only coals illuminated the area, burning in a shallow fire-pit in the center of the stone floor. Around him, standing by the walls, were shadowy figures. Two? Three? A dozen? I couldn't see, couldn't tell how many. It didn't matter. A voice filled the room, from all or perhaps from only one. Esto waited, and listened. "You have made progress, Esto. You have grasped the knowledge we have passed on to you. And you have gained the discipline for the Art you now practice. Now, speak of your heart-wish to us." Esto spoke. "I must leave, Aged Ones. I have learned much, and seen much more that I must learn. But I cannot stay now in this world of safety. My bonds to the other world pull at me, and I must heed their call." He bowed. "I will depart." The voice spoke again, one sentence: "We have known it to be so." A portal opened up in front of Esto. He walked forwards, a wooden staff and simple clothing his only possessions. Esto stepped into the gray mist, and was gone. --- The next memory-scene was again centered around Esto. He was standing on a dusty road by a large estate, talking to someone. I could make out their voices clearly from my position right behind Esto. "... You mean he's gone?" Esto was saying. The other man nodded. "Yuh, he vanished. Dead, they figgered, when he didn't return from his huntin'. He had been actin' strange before that, though, dismissin' most of the servants. But then maybe his wife's death drove him a bit nutty, if ya know what I mean ..." He seemed to remember who he was speaking to, and cocked an eye at Esto. "Yuh weren't responsible for her death, were yuh, m'lord?" Esto sighed deeply, and shook his head. "No, Mander, I wasn't. But the Council was not convinced of that." Mander nodded. "We all thought so, 'round here. The servants, I mean. But I hafta admit, yuh did look sorta suspicious, what with refusing to speak about it, and, well, we all knew that yuh were still in love with her. Weren'tcha, m'lord?" Esto grew tight-lipped, and for a minute seemed about to have an angry outburst. Then he relaxed, and spoke again. "Yes, Mander, I still cared for her very much. I could not speak about where I was at the time, however, and still cannot. I was well away from this place, though." "Yes, m'lord. We all missed yuh something terrible, y'know. None of us really thought yuh did it ... well, old Avis the gardner always blamed yuh, but then he was always a trifle sore from the time yuh went and trampled on the new roses he had just laid in. Mander chuckled to himself at the thought. "Yuh, right burned up about it, yuh might say. But yuh were just a lad at the time, and didn't know any better." "Yes, Mander, I was a stupid boy then. Now I have changed, grown up." Esto sighed. "'Tis a pity it had to happen this way. But now I have grown." A sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he continued. "Tell me ... were the Tyestones ever recovered? I recall they disappeared at the time of ... of her death." "Nay, m'lord. Never found again. Yur brother ordered a search be made, but they found nothin'." A bell began to toll in the background, and Mander uttered a surprised oath. "I must be off, m'lord. Right glad I am to see yuh safe and sound. Yuh will be stayin' in the village hereabouts, will yuh not?" "No, Mander. I have to be travelling on. I just stopped by here to see how things had happened in my absence." Esto thought a second, and fumbled in his purse. He came up with a silver coin, and handed it to Mander. "Yur health, m'lord. Thank yuh. And I hope to see yuh again soon, as healthy as yuh are now." The two men gazed solemnly at each other for a moment, and then parted ways. Mander returned to the house, and Esto slowly began to walk away. I travelled along with him, of course. I watched his figure move along the streets, and I was struck by ... I'm not sure. A thought, I suppose. But it wasn't exactly my thought. Rather, it was as though I had joined with Esto for an instant, feeling a thought as he thought it: That was all. For a moment, I had touched something, and then it was gone. As I pondered this, the scene changed once more. --- Esto sat in a room, probably at an inn, staring at a small crystal. The word "Tyestone" floated into my mind. I struggled to remember more about what it was, but the memory was too faint. If only I could recall all the scenes I knew I had seen! But each trip in the void had scattered the memories I had gained before. Esto continued to stare into the crystal. "It was a good thing I kept this," he said, absently. "It is my birthright, after all. Despite the fact that they stole it from me ... it was still my birthright." His voice rose angrily as he spoke, and with an effort, he calmed himself. He held the crystal in the palm of his hand. It was a hemisphere of clear crystal, a medium-sized gemstone. I could faintly see silver lines beginning to emerge from it, to lazily drift outwards. Esto watched them intently, eyes focused. "Yes ... yes ... I *knew* he was the one that took the other Tyestones! Now, where is he?" The lines were becoming firmer, less like smoke and more like wire. And it was obvious that they were not pointing evenly outwards. Rather, they were twisted towards the north, like the pattern iron dust makes near a magnet. Esto examined the lines with a critical eye. "North, then. Several weeks by horse. I had best get started." He relaxed. The silver lines faded and were gone. He sagged a bit. Apparently it was more wearisome than it looked. Then he carefully put the stone away, placing it in a small bag, and returning the bag to his pack. Esto rose, and glanced northwards. "I am coming, brother. And I wish an explanation." There was a sensation of motion, and the scene changed once more. --- Now Esto was nowhere in sight. Instead, I looked upon a forest glen. A handful of villagers were out picknicking and talking in the middle. Through the trees in one direction I could see the outskirts of the village. I noticed I could hear two of the villagers talking as I stood there. "... Just lying dead on the floor, they were. Plague, maybe." "Nay. You know they were skimping on their offerings. Looks like He noticed." "Maybe. Someone told me Thadd's wife was cured the other day. He said she had slipped with a knife, cut her arm something awful. She had it bound in a sling, and was going to the temple to make an offering, and she gave a cry, and look, the arm was all healed up, good as new!" "He watches." "The gods have always stayed out of our lives before. Why do they start now?" "Sudden miracle? Ah, you're truly new to this village. Yes, I suppose your family hasn't had much of a chance to see Him. He's not like other gods. He watches us all the time, protects us. He's going to replace all the old gods that you folks still bother to pray to. He's here, among us. You'll like Him, once you get to know Him like we do." "Perhaps. I'm still a bit worried about the Trants. Good folk, they were. Only thing they ever did was skimp a bit on the donations, and that was always because Erv Trant had a game leg and couldn't work too hard, and so they never had much money." "The priests never liked them. I never liked that Erv Trant either. He was always talking 'bout moving out of this village, and about how we shouldn't spend so much time worshipping this god, and about how real gods wouldn't need our offerings." "Well, do you think he was right?" "Of course not! Besides ..." The villager glanced around. "He's always watching, you know. If you're going to say that sort of thing, don't say it out loud." "Don't say it out loud? I'm not scared --" his voice raised "-- I'm not scared of this new god! If He's offended, let him strike me down now!" Curiously enough, that was in fact what happened. As he spoke, his hands started to move. He suddenly noticed their motion, and broke off in a scream. Without his control, they reached up and his hands were wrapped around his own throat. They started to squeeze tighter and tighter. I was horrified, wishing I could do something, wishing I could reach out and touch this memory. But I was only a memory, and my hands passed harmlessly through as his eyes bulged and he sank to the ground, gasping horribly. The other villagers stepped back, and nervously began talking again, ignoring the body on the ground with an effort. I watched, horrified. I was already thinking along these same lines, so I almost didn't notice the sense of connection. But there it was again, the sense of overlapping, of feeling another's thoughts. No, not exactly. It was as if me and the other were one instead of two, and our thoughts were one as well. But only for a moment. I suddenly realized where Esto was. He was standing at the edge of the clearing, listening and watching. Curiously enough, no one else seemed to notice him, yet I was sure he wasn't watching this memory in the same way I was. He was in the clearing with them, but they did not see. Magic? I didn't think so, somehow. The villagers walked right past him without noticing. Esto continued to observe their conversation, and then walked on, out of the clearing towards the village, deep in thought. --- A scene: Esto, walking along the village streets. A woman has fallen to the ground. She is screaming. Above her, a grim figure stands, cloaked in priestly robes. He scowls at the woman as she wails on the ground. The priest snaps his finger, and she shakily rises. He turns, and she follows, moving like a sleepwalker. Esto shakes his head, and moves on. Another scene: A stage. A crowd of people surround it, and a woman in the same priest robes stands atop the stage. The crowd shouts, as a man is lifted onto the stage. His leg is gashed, deeply. The woman begins to chant, and the crowd does also. She lifts something in the air - I can see it glinting. The crowd's excitement reaches a fever pitch, and the man on stage gasps in surprise. His leg wound has closed. The crowd cheers. The woman continues to hold the shiny object in the air, until the last cheers fade. Then she carefully replaces it in her pouch. Esto watches all this from the back of the crowd. He says nothing, and no one seems to notice him. A third scene: A blind beggar sits on the street. A priest walks by. The beggar rattles his alms-cup. The priest scowls, and grabs the beggar by the arm, demanding to know why he is not at work. The beggar points to his eyes. The priest laughs, and drops the beggar. He walks away. Before he is out of sight, the beggar's rags suddenly burst into flame. The beggar screams, and frantically rolls on the ground. The priest does not turn around. Esto is there, watching. He is unseen. A final scene: Esto, still apparently unseen, enters a small shop. While the shopkeeper does not watch, Esto lifts some clothing off the shelves. It is typical villager's clothing, and a thick cloak. He leaves a small silver coin on the counter, before slipping out. The surroundings blackened again. Again, I was losing my grip on something. But this time i couldn't hold on. The memories swirled around me, and again i sink into eternity. A thought cut through the fade, right as i entered the void: Then i sank into void, and was alone again. * * * The torment was ... i hesitate to describe it as better, because that would suggest that it was not agony. But it was getting ... less terrible. Occasionally, as i floated in the void, there would be sensation. Occasionally, sights or sounds or smells or pressures would float out at me, and for an instant, i could be connected. Once ground formed beneath my feet, i had an impression of white walls, and then ... then i was cast away again. i floated in dark for a long long time, lost and alone. But it was not as bad as it had been; not so many of my memories were stolen away as before. So i was quicker recovering when i finally came to the room again. There was the usual period of readjustment, of wondering who i was and what i was doing, before what little i had kept filtered back. i looked around: mirror, two pillars, and the bare white walls. i glanced at the two pillars, trying to decide which one was next. The first pillar, of course, had the deck of cards on it. The second was the blank one. Or _was_ the blank one. Now it seemed to have a faint silver shimmering thing on it. i couldn't make out what, exactly. i reached out an experimental hand towards it, and passed right through. So not that one. The cards, then. i reached out my hand, and spread the cards out. i caught a glimpse of them before the memory transported me elsewhere: each card bore the image of The Fool, the man stepping off the cliff into unknown dangers. * * * Curiously enough, I recognized the scene now. It was the bar, from my earliest memories. A man sat at the table, cloaked. I knew now it was Esto. I assumed the bar was in the village where he had come to. I just wished I could remember what he was doing here. Looking for somebody? Trying to find something? I couldn't remember. I wasn't even sure what he was doing in this inn. _This_ question seemed to be answered when someone came over to Esto's table. "You are Multar, the architect?" Esto asked in an undertone. "Yes, I am Multar. I _was_ an architect until the thrice-cursed priests finished with me. Now ... now I can barely see out my eyes, and I am useless as a builder. My fine touch, my steady hand, my eye for design ... all gone. After building the temple, they didn't want me to ever build something as fine. Curse them!" Multar touched his eyes as he spoke. I could see they looked misty, and there were scars and old bruises all around them. His right hand, too, was warped, perhaps from broken fingers. The thought came. There was a slight shift, and suddenly I was sitting at the table, _I_ was watching Multar, I was shifting through his top-layer thoughts, searching to see if he was trustworthy. And then an instant later I was outside again, back again. "You know what I want. I want to see the ... inner parts of the temple. Show me, and I will pay you." "Your gold does not matter so much. I am old, I expect I will pass on soon enough. But I want to leave here before I die, and I cannot leave on my own. When you go, take me with you. This priesthood and their new god has made my birthplace no longer mine." "I will take you when I leave ... if I leave. I have only a little business to complete. Tonight, we can meet at the temple. You will show me the way in, and then you may leave. Tomorrow, I will come for you, and we will leave here together." "Yes, that will work. Best to get this thing over with, before the priests overhear." "No one is listening right now ... I am sure of it. But we should not talk too long." Esto stood up, saying "At the midnight hour, we will meet at the square." "Until tonight, then. Oh ... perhaps I spoke too harshly on the merits of gold. A mug of ale warms an old man's heart." Esto caught the hint. A small purse landed on the table, and he was gone. --- By the time the last bell had rung, Multar had arrived. Esto was already there, waiting silently in the shadows, hood pulled low. When he saw the old man, Esto nodded. Then, quietly, Multar motioned for Esto to follow him. The two men walked onwards, towards the temple at the edge of town. It was a large temple. Recently built, and finely ornamented. In the daytime, the sunlight reflected off the metal and polished glass. At night, the temple merely loomed. Dark and foreboding it was, now. The ornaments of the daytime made brutal shadows at night. Multar went around the side, and began to inspect the wall. He had brought a tiny, shaded lantern along with him, and now pulled it from his cloak. He twisted the shade open a crack. A tiny beam of light lanced out, touching the stone. By its light, Multar located one of the stones in the wall. He pushed it. Then, he found a second, and pushed that as well. The two stones retracted slightly. Esto watched, carefully. Multar was cursing quietly, looking for a third stone. Finally, he counted to the correct one, and pushed it as well. The three wall-stones moved back to their original spots. Multar put his lantern away again. "Now, we must move quickly," he whispered hoarsely. The two walked silently, until they came to a large hole in the ground. Multar waved his hand at a rock which half-covered the hole. "It pivots. Quickly, before it swings back." Esto and Multar slipped down the hole. I followed, of course, passing right through the rock as it began to close. They were at the end of a long, dark passageway. The walls were stone, the floor was slightly dusty. Multar opened his lantern and sighed, quietly. "This is the difficult part. I believe I recall the location of all the traps here. If I miss one, we will both be killed ... or the priests will be alerted. I would prefer the first." Carefully, Multar stepped forwards, into the passageway. Esto walked behind him, following the footprints left in the dust. I drifted after, a silent watcher. I could sense Esto's tension now, even though his face did not show it. Multar remembered correctly. Nothing impeded their passage as they moved down the corridor. Finally, they entered the inner complex. "As arranged, I am leaving now," Multar said. You will perform your business, and then find your own way out. "As agreed," said Esto. He handed Multar a coin-purse. "It is not much recompense, but I fear it is all I have left." "The money, as I said, is not the issue. I have no love for the priesthood, and obviously you do not either." Multar stuffed the pouch into his cloak, turned, and was gone down the corridor. Esto looked about him. He turned his head, concentrating. I could see ... how odd. Extending out from him were tiny silver wisps. They drifted outwards, searching for ... for something. Esto nodded, and shook himself. The wisps vanished. He slipped down the corridor, moving as softly and easily as the cat moves, despite the staff he held in one hand. --- Memory twisted, skipped. I saw: Esto walking down the passage. I saw: He hides in the shadows, waiting for a guard to walk by. I saw: A faint silvery beam flies from him, striking a priest. The priest slumps without a sound. I saw: Esto walking, slower now, looking at the walls carefully. I saw: Esto avoiding another guard. I saw: Esto moving swiftly down a passage. I see: Esto stands outside a door. --- Esto stood outside the door, waiting. The two priest-guards stood there, as blind as stones. A small lantern burned on the floor. They looked right through him, and saw nothing. I wondered why for a bit, until a stray thought flitted in, and I saw the tiny beams stretching out from Esto's minds to theirs. Esto stepped forwards. The world spun. Now I was Esto, watching the guards through his eyes. I lifted my staff and swung it in a short, clean arc. With only a slight sound, one guard slumped to the ground. The other priest spun around; he seemed to see Esto/me for the first time. I smiled at him. Then tossed my staff to the priest, and by reflex, he reached a hand up. I was already moving at the same moment, my hand reaching out, striking the side of the priest's neck. The priest fell. I bent over and retrieved my staff. Then looked at the door. I thought, I reached my hand out for the knob and turned it. I started to push the door, and things ... slipped. The world spun dizzily around me. Reality snapped, memories shattered like glass, and i fell screaming into the void one more time. * * * The void was not black because there was darkness in it. It was black because it was totally empty. There was no room for color here, or sound or scent or feelings. It was full of Emptiness. And i floated in the center, thoughts chasing themselves in circles. i screamed, the sound floating away and losing itself, just as i was lost. It had never been this bad before ... i don't think. i tried, just for the exercise, to remember what the other times had been like. And failed. Each brush with the void i had blacked out, desperately burying the memory of eternal nil under any other memories i could pull over them. i struggled. i tried, pulling at my stubborn thoughts. They evaded. i wanted to remember, wanted to know everything. But i couldn't. So i drifting, thinking, tugging at my own thoughts. Finally, i gained a foothold. Perhaps the term was a bad one, as i had no real sensations here. But in my battle to remember, i had gained an inch. And from that position, i pulled. And twisted. And somehow, forced things out. And the memories came flooding back. Ages spent buried in acid, spent drifting in nothing, spent frozen in a desert of ice. i remembered the first room i had been in, realized that i had been there many times before but too traumatized to remember. i remembered the other pillars. Yes. That was what i wanted. i wanted the last room, the last pillar. i remembered the last time i had been in the Void, that i had found stable ground. i remembered how. And suddenly, my feet were on a solid floor again. And i remembered everything. * * * The room was bare, white walls. The mirror hung on one wall, reflecting the whole room, and me in it. A single pillar sprouted from the floor in the center of the room. And now i could see what was on it. Thin, silvery lines traced out a shape: a torus. The torus glimmered in whatever lit this room, and it seemed to rotate slowly. i watched it turn for an instant, then stepped forwards decisively. Memories of earlier memories whirled through my head, but i paid them no heed. It didn't matter to me at the moment. i was sure that the final explanation was here, the last memory was contained within this silvery thought-shape. So i reached out a hand to it, grasped the torus and threw it skyward. And it flew up into the air - the ceiling seemed to have disappeared, to be replaced by ... by nothing. And then it drifted down, slowly. It fell as a crown upon my head. And thus the final memory came. * * * The thought came before my vision did. Esto was standing in a room. Still inside the lower complex, I supposed. The room was set up like a cross between a temple and a bedroom. A great statue of a man stood against one wall. Set into the statue's brow was a glittering gemstone ... I had seen its like before, somewhere. The statue's hands were extended out from it, cupped to receive something. The wall there was richly decorated, with strange and dark artistry. Against another wall was a desk. A bookshelf was next to the desk, filled with old books. The books seemed to pulse as I looked at them. I could faintly see a red aura surrounding them. It was not clean as the silver aura was, but I sensed some link between the two. A meditation mat was on the floor as well. And sitting cross-legged on it was a man, blond and tall. The man seemed not to notice Esto, and his eyes remained closed. Esto stepped forwards. He held his staff in front of him. "Hello, Gert" he said softly. The man's eyes blinked open. He grinned. A nasty, unpleasant grin. "Greetings, brother. You took your time in getting here. I was expecting you earlier." Gert seemed to catch the thought as well. "Yes, you stupid fool. You did a poor job of scanning that foolish architect. He was just another of my tools, another of my spies. Of course, my alterations to his mind were somewhat ... masked." Esto watched Gert's face, silently. Then spoke again: "So how long have you known for?" "Since the day after you came here ... brother. You do not yet realize, for all your sneaking and scuttling and dodging about, what I have found." "What are you speaking of, Gert?" Esto asked. Perceptions twisted, and I was Esto. As I looked through my/Esto's eyes, Gert reached to a pocket in his robe, and pulled out a small clear gemstone, identical to the one in the statue's forehead. Identical to the one the priestess had held up to the crowd, in the last memories. Identical to ... it was a fragment of a Tyestone. I/Esto flinched. "How could you, Gert?" my lips asked. "That belonged to our family! That was, was sacred!" "Very easily, brother. Once I realized what would be possible with the combination of the gem's relationship to its mates and the ... alterations I could make ... What I have discovered, brother, is something that will revolutionize the science of Psionics." Again, I must have let a little surprise show through. "Yes, brother," Gert said. "You always were arrogant, obnoxious, and foolish. And so, so blind. I too have training in our Gift, but I have more that just training. I have these." He held up the Tyestone piece again. "I realized that despite what my stupid teachers taught, the ungifted do have the capacity for energy. They cannot use it, but they generate it all the same. The man who could figure out a way to channel it would easily be the most powerful Mindlord in the world. I would be - I am - unstoppable. Soon the entire village will worship me as their own deity. And their devotion fuels my power." I was watching Gert, silently. My rage was building, slowly. But I had long ago learned control of my anger. He seemed to notice this. "You are not as easily roused as you used to be, brother. Perhaps your teachers managed to force some discipline into your mind after all --" And views changed again. I was outside Esto once more, shaking from the experience of joining. Of course, no one noticed me, and Gert was still speaking as Esto waited. "But I mistake myself. You have been cast out from the family, have you not? So I should really not call you brother. Esto, I think, is more appropriate. Esto the Dolt. Esto the Foolish. Esto the Child. Younger and weaker than me." Esto's hands trembled slightly on the staff he held. Still, he waited, and still he watched. Gert continued. He seemed to be toying with Esto, trying to get him to break his stiff pose. "It was a great pity, I think, that I had to slay her. Yes, it was me after all. Surprise, surprise. I was genuinely fond of the girl, you know. But she did love you better. So I killed her." He paused for a second, then went on. "Oh, don't think that was my _only_ reason for killing her. I've always prided myself on my efficiency. One more way in which I am far superior to you. But as I was saying ... The dark powers demanded a sacrifice in exchange for their knowledge. I understood completely. Quid pro quo, and so forth. They demanded her. She was a nice enough lass, but a small price to pay for --" That was it. Esto was abruptly in full motion, swinging his staff in a murderous spin. All pretense of calm was gone. Gert tumbled backwards off the mat, rolling onto his feet. The staff whistled through the air, failing to connect. "I thought that would do it," Gert commented, as he dodged blows. There was a flurry of attacks by Esto, all casually deflected or blocked by Gert. Suddenly, Gert's foot kicked out. The blow struck Esto firmly on the knee, and Esto stumbled backwards. Gert grinned. "See? I prove my superiority here, first. You were always smaller and weaker than I. And less trained in this sort of thing." Esto recovered, and again advanced. He held the staff in front of him this time, barring Gert from getting too close. Gert smiled. "This physical combat begins to bore me. I think we should move on to the next contest." Spreading his fingers, he spoke a single word. It was not like ordinary speech: the letters seemed to hang as crystals in mid-air, humming with power as they were spoken. "Khazak. Rekhoz Khazak. Taranis!" The staff suddenly started to shrink in Esto's hands. It dwindled away till it was no bigger than a matchstick, and then tumbled to the floor. Shocked, Esto looked at Gert. "Yes, brother, I have been busy in your absence. As I said, she was a sacrifice for power. This sort of power. I am a Magus now." Shift: Now I am Esto again. The transitions are quicker now, but no less disorienting. This time I reached out with my mind. The staff was useless, and he had proved his physical superiority most painfully. The silver knives lunged out, symbols of my focused will. They should cut my way into his mind, allow me to force my way inside so that I could destroy him from within. But I was deflected. A mighty wall of thoughts stood there, repulsing me. It was the crude unsubtle defense of the novice, but so much power stood behind it that it was impregnable. I thrust the full weight of my talent against it, and still it held. The whole exchange took but a second, yet I was mentally exhausting myself already. Gert laughed. "You forget the power I get from these." He held up the crystals. "The mindwall is easily maintained with the tremendous power I have." Gert seemed not at all disconcerted by the mental struggle that continued to take place as we talked. I still thrusted at the wall, probing for weak spots. And found no breach. "It was the combination of Magery and Psi that allowed me to utilize these stones fully. The links were already there, of course, formed by natural resonance. They were strengthened by magic, and then modified by psionics to let me channel the energies. Allow me to demonstrate." Gert raised the crystal. I watched, carefully. I could see a faint silvery glow gathering around it. The silver was mixed with - was tainted by - the same blood red that I had seen around the books. With a surge of force, the blow struck my mind full-on. It was as if ... I am not sure. I cannot now recall the moment. The sheer force blanked everything else out as I struggled to avoid total destruction. I think I fell to the ground. The blow seemed to knock my perceptions again, and I was outside Esto, observing once more. Esto got to his feet, shakily. Gert watched. He seemed to be affected by the contest more than he had shown previously, even though his actions all seemed effortless. His voice was now shaking with anger as he glared at Esto. "You see, brother? You see? You always had to deny me. You always struggled against me, resented me for being eldest. Well, curse you, does this prove it? Does this prove I am your superior??" Gert stared at Esto banefully, and a thought seemed to strike. "I will act next through you, brother. Yes. I will strip the mind from your body. Painfully. And then I will use you as a tool to conquer the next village, and the next. And then I will have the power to easily destroy your former teachers. And with them gone, I think there will be none left to stand in my way. Yes. With each believer, I grow more unstoppable. I have won. I have proved myself." Then Esto lunged - and I was merged again, lunging, my/Esto's/ours fingers reaching out for the soft vulnerable spot on Gert's throat. But Gert was shouting the words - the awful sharp crystalline letters - and we crashed to the ground, limbs frozen, unable to move. Gert gasped, rubbing his throat where I had bruised him. I watched him from my position on the floor, unable to move even my eyes. He kicked me, and I found out I could still feel pain. He kicked me again, harder. Perhaps a rib cracked. "She always loved you better, brother. Even when she was promised to me." Gert moved over to the desk. He opened one of the bottom drawers, and then pulled out two long lengths of chain. Testing, I struck out with all the force I could pull together. But he had predicted this, and the easy way he repelled the attack stunned me. And his casual counterstrike pounded into my already aching skull. Crushed under waves of distilled belief, I blacked out. I came into consciousness a little later. I was lying on the meditation mat, hands and feet chained. At my feet, a candle burned. I could twist my neck enough to see the one burning behind my head too, and I could smell incense. The sound of chanting began to filter in. Gert was slowly pacing around the mat, chanting from a book. He smiled when he saw my eyes were open. "Excellent. Now, let me explain. I will subject your mind to the worst terrors you can possibly imagine, for what will feel like eternity. You will scream, and suffer, and be willing to do anything to make the torment stop. And when I feel like it, perhaps I will stop. Then I will do it all again. You will die in fire a thousand times, contract plague and slowly die, be stabbed by a million swords. You will feel your limbs rot, and be devoured alive by wild beasts. Then, when you have been shattered forever by the mental torture, I will assume control of your body. Thus will I conquer. And we will show who is the stronger." Gert held the gemstone above his head, and incanted louder. I struggled against the chains, but it seemed no use. I tried to focus my mind, so I could somehow affect the chains, but I couldn't concentrate with the throbbing in my head in time to his chanting in the background. His voice grew louder and louder. Now it was as loud as the pounding waves on the beach. I lay limp, waiting. His voice was louder now, crashing thunder. I tried to prepare myself, to remember the calming exercises I had been taught. The chanting was like a lion's roar, impossible to think, to do anything while he spoke. I found myself twitching, thrashing on the mat, unable to control myself. The voice was the roar of the storm, was the rumble of the earthquake, it was filling my head so loud I could do nothing ... and then it stopped. All was quiet for an instant, the calm before the lightning strikes. The magic took me. I was frozen to death. I was bathed in acid. I was having my flesh ripped off a bite at a time by wild dogs. I was growing old, my heart stopping its beat, my eyesight dying. I was drowning, struggling for breath. I was choking. I was slowly being crushed by heavy weights. I was expanding like a balloon, almost popping. I was watching everyone I ever loved die in the most painful way possible. I was watching my father be lowered into a vat of molten metal. I was watching my mother be flayed and hung. I was watching Eletha, as a small child, be gang-raped by brutish orks. I was being lashed by a hurricane. I was being thrown off balance by an earthquake. I was a tree, struck by lightning. I was a stone, unable to move. I was nothing. I was everything. I was ... I was. And in the background was my brother's voice, an eternal backdrop, laughing - always laughing. A final, sardonic thought, and then ... i not was. i eternally not was. i not was - lost, forgotten, not am. i not am anymore. * * * And i floated in void for a thousand thousand years, aware of each tenth of a second, yet unable to know how many had passed. Knowing i existed - surely, i must still exist? - yet unable to do anything, unable to feel or taste or touch or smell or see or hear. Perhaps i went mad, retreated lost into the smallest corner of my mind to hide from the not world that i in. And this was the last memory that I saw. And i was there eternal, passing in and out of madness which lasted forever or not at all. And i not was forever. And then ... and then. There was a slight weakening. A slight fragment of am in a sea of not-am. A touch of reality. An anchor. i was too weak to grasp it, yet i did grasp it. i took the am like a rope, and pulled myself. And i tried and tried, each time being cast backwards into not-am forever and ever. Yet one time i succeeded. And i found myself in a room. Then i was pulled backwards into not-am, forgetting everything. i wept at what i had forgotten, and that i could not remember what i had forgotten. But i was given another chance ... another time, i found the am. i pulled myself into the room, stronger and easier this time, though i did not remember my previous attempts. And i saw the pillars in this room, each with a strange object resting atop it. And i knew. And i realized. So now i ... Am I. * * * If ever, as a small child, you have stared in terror at the darkness, you perhaps felt the same when when someone opened the lantern. If you have ever been in a sinking ship, perhaps you have thought similar thoughts when rescued at the last moment. If you have ever tumbled over the edge of a pit and only been saved by a companion's quick hand, you may empathize. If you have ever been brought from death, perhaps you will understand a bit of how I felt. So. When I Realized, I was in the room again. Now empty, bare white walls, no pillars, just the mirror. The mirror. I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long time, looking deeply into my own eyes. And I could see _myself_. Then I laughed. So I tried something I had not done in a while. I spoke. I chose my words carefully. "A cage .." a pause (after all, my throat was unused to speaking after so long) ".. The bars of the cage .. The only cage that matters, in the end, is the one that you lock yourself in. Others can help you find your cage, but only you can lock yourself inside. And if you open the bars of that cage ... all cages have opened for you. It is merely a matter of perception." I giggled. I couldn't help myself. Then I reached out a hand. I reached out a hand to my reflection in the mirror, to take the reflection's hand in mine. My hand brushed the surface of the mirror, and opened it. Like a door, the reflection opened, and folded out to somehow cover the entire room. So I stood in a hall of mirrors, and each mirror reflected me. I stepped forwards and ... * * * I was lying on the floor. Real sensations filtered in. I felt as if I had been buried or bound in cloth for months. I could feel the air brush my skin, could feel the hard ground on my back, I could feel the chains around my wrists and ankles. They were _real_. Which meant I was out. I was free. It took a _lot_ of discipline not to shout with pure joy at that moment, despite being chained and on the floor. But I succeeded in keeping quiet. I didn't dare crack an eyelid. Especially since I could hear someone walking around, vaguely nearby. I would have to use psi, and hope my thrice-cursed brother wasn't listening. I concentrated. My mind blanked, as I had been trained. I was very still. And then I pushed my mind slightly outwards. I didn't want to see very far, just see around me. I opened my thought eyes cautiously, and looked at the room. I was still in the same room. There I was, bound on the floor, tossed in a corner. The desk and bookshelf and altar were undisturbed. A robed priest was pacing, occasionally shooting glances at my prone figure. My brother was nowhere in sight. I wished I knew how much time had passed. Still weak after my experiences, I let my vision cease. Then, in the quiet of my own mind, I started to think. I could not afford to be arrogant and careless this time. I always, always had in the past. But not now. I had received a second chance to fix things, and I could not - would not - waste it. So I thought. My brother was just too damn strong. He seemed skilled enough as a fighter - his leaps and graceful motion showed that. No chance there. Obviously, his magery skills could not be matched. And though he seemed somewhat less trained in Psionics than me, he had the tremendous energy that made skill unnecessary. What was I going to do? Inspiration struck. He had one weak point. The crystal links that channeled mind-force to him were a great strength, but possibly also something that could be used against him. It would be difficult, but I had no other brilliant ideas. So I started to work. Forming the structure in my mind was tricky. I took my time. I don't think anyone had realized I was still sane, let alone back in my body and aware of what was going on. Eventually, I had the psionic matrix built in my mind the way I wanted it. I wasn't sure if it would do the trick, but ... The next step was getting the guard out of the way. Hmm. There was a way, I knew, to make a subject's attention drift away. Yes, that would do it. Carefully, oh-so-carefully, I send a fiber of my mind outwards. I would have to be very quick, and very quiet. I found the priest's mind, a dull blob. It was obvious that he had no Gift, so it would be easy. The fiber made contact, and burrowed into the blotch of his mind. I found the spot I wanted, and gently fed it a simple pattern. Sunshine in a field of daisies. It was hard to do this and still hold the psionic pattern I had built, but I managed. Eventually, I thought the guard must be unaware. I cracked an eye. Yes, he was sitting down, staring off into space, away from me. Now, this was difficult. I needed to get to a crystal, without the guard seeing. And I was sure Gert would notice the instant the guard was attacked or killed. Where was a crystal? I closed my eyes again and concentrated, trying to remember. Gert had them, of course ... the priest must have one, but it would be no use trying to get it ... ah. The statue. Yes, I could recall clearly that the statue had one. Now, could I get to it? Slowly, I moved. I eased myself into a crouch, and then stood. Years of training in patience were working ... I was moving carefully, and silently, across the floor to the statue. In the back of my mind, I was monitoring the guard's brain. He was still thinking of something else, gazing off into the distance at the wall. But it would be difficult to override his sense of duty for very long. I had to be be quick. A dozen steps took me across the room. I paused. The guard was still looking distractedly at the wall. I reached up, slowly. Damn ... the crystal was just inches away from my hand. I looked around desperately for something to stand on, the pattern I had built still humming in my brain. Ok. Nothing to stand on. Think, I told myself, think. I'd have to lift myself. It was a tricky thing to do. Holding the pattern, keeping the guard distracted, and pulling myself up, and above all being totally silent ... it was, shall we say, difficult. But I managed. I remembered the months that it had taken just to move a small wooden ball. And now I was moving myself. I concentrated. Shutting out the world, I focused. I felt my feet quiver slightly. Then, I _pushed_. And slowly, I rose up. Just an inch or two, but that was all I needed. I stretched out fingertips and touched the crystal. And instantly, I felt the lattice that was there. The matrix that my brother had built, a weird mix of magery and psi. I could see what it was doing, channeling and focusing energies from the other crystals, and then passing it along. Very nicely done. I extended my thoughts into the links themselves, and slowly began to alter the threads of the lattice, making some room. Then I thrust the pattern I had built into the crystal. Some lines of the matrix bent. Straining, I pushed them back into place. Then I connected up my pattern to the whole network. Now, I was ready. I shook my head, losing the image of the matrix. I lowered myself down. Let myself drop, rather. The need for quiet was over. The priest was already breaking through his mental fog as I was starting to let it go. He stood with a grunt. His eyes popped open wide. It was a most satisfactory reaction. I smiled at him. "Master!," he shouted, "Master! He wakes!" I didn't want him around when Gert got here. I was quick and brutally efficient. I covered the distance between us in a short dash. We collided heavily, and he was slammed up against the wall. I grasped the correct spot on his neck, held it, and he folded. Panting a little from the effort, I let him fall. When I turned around, Gert was standing in the doorway. At least he betrayed a _little_ surprise. "I expected the spell to crush you, brother. You are stronger than I had thought." He considered. "I suppose I will just have to subdue you again, and channel more power into the ritual. Really, I am most displeased." I took a deep breath, and let it out again. "No, brother. I have won. You do not yet admit it to yourself, but I have won. I prove myself the stronger, you see. _I_ have conquered. Anything you do now is meaningless." I gazed at him, and he glared back. "Nonsense," Gert said. "This is but an inconvenience. Yes, I admit, I underestimated you. But I have already proved myself your superior in the body, magic, and our talent. So it will be simple for me to repeat things again and not make the mistake I did last time. And then I will be able to begin my reign." He was talking altogether too calmly. I had to get him a bit angry. Perhaps I and my brother still had some similarities? We did once. My voice became soft. "Brother ... brother. You prove your skill in fighting, true. A child's sport. Yes, you have skill in magery, which I have not. Fine. And I am sure you have made dark sacrifices for what you have. But the mind? I think not. I have far more skill than you. You are but a fool with power, but not skill. Try and take me now. I wait." Gert let a bit of anger show through his stony expression. "Perhaps I should just call my priests in and let them take you ... I think you are about equal to that challenge. I would not bother myself." I laughed. "You think, brother? I say that I am the superior. For, after all ... she loved me best." Brother was like brother, in that respect at least. Those four words were enough to do it. My vision split. I could see two worlds, the mind and the body. In the body world, nothing was going on, save two men looking at each other. In the mind world, though, I could feel the motion of power. Somewhere out in the village, people were screaming. The true believers were being tapped, their minds being sacrificed to fuel the summoning of mental strength. Like a river, the energy was beginning to move. The power was channeled into the nearest crystal, and from there to the next crystal, and so on. In the mind world, I looked around. Power was rushing towards us from all directions. I braced. I erected a small shield. It was strong, but would be totally useless against any sort of attack he mustered with that much power behind it. I had to keep him moving and not thinking. And hope my plan worked. In the mind world, he was standing, laughing. The power was slowly becoming more and more focused. Like a river, which joins with others to become a greater river, the energy was channeled through crystal after crystal, heading for Gert and the crystal he held. But it would pass through the statue's crystal first. I held up my tiny thought-shield, and waited. An instant later, the power struck. It flowed into the crystal on the statue, and slipped into the pattern I had built. Things started to go wrong for Gert at that moment. He was no fool. He could guess what was coming, and was absolutely powerless to stop it. As fast as thought, the power raced around the pattern I had built. Energy was building up in the crystals, and my pattern provided no outlet yet. Still, power was being drawn in through the crystals, and it was getting stopped at this one. The crystals were buzzing even in the physical world, humming with accumulated psi-energy that had no outlet. The power strove against the pattern, water behind a dam, and yet it could not quite leave. And then it reached the correct level. My pattern opened. Gert screamed. The dam burst. The pattern was designed to shatter at a certain point, to not keep it in a loop forever. That wasn't what I wanted. What I wanted was what was now happening: an enormous uncontrolled burst of energy. It exploded outwards from the crystal. In the body world, I was dimly aware of the crystal on the altar shattering, and shards flying everywhere. I was even less aware of the pain as the pieces hit me. What I was watching was the effects in the mind world. Finally blocked by its own weight, power began rushing backwards along the crystal links. Only to meet up with the power flowing in. The matrix began to collapse. Everywhere, nodes were dying. A system is only as strong as the weakest link, and all the links were breaking. I was lashed by the force as well, but not nearly as much as Gert was. No, not nearly as much. He was in the heart of the furnace, I was but at the edge. If you have ever seen a man burned alive, as I have, you will understand the effect of that much power on Gert's unprotected mind. He had expected it to come slowly, and along specific courses. Instead, it was wild, savage, unbearable. His mind was carried along like a child's boat on a flooded river. Perhaps luckily, I was knocked out from the mind-world by the force of the incoming power. So I did not have to watch my own brother be torn in pieces by the silvery concentration of pure Thought. And finally, it was over. It was all over. I blinked, and opened my eyes. The room was just as it was minutes earlier, though I felt as if a war party of orks had just trampled me. My brother lay collapsed on the floor, not moving. I took all this in, and realized I was in pain. My skin was peppered with a hundred tiny fragments of the crystal, each strike taking a little blood. I moaned weakly, and managed to stagger to the meditation mat before I collapsed. * * * Time passed, and eventually my eyes opened. I felt a bit better, but not much so. My head was throbbing. I blinked, and stared around the room. It didn't look like much had changed. Gert's crumpled figure was still there on the floor. His eyes were open, looking at me. It was worse because there was nothing outwardly wrong. At least I could have fixed on the wounds if he had been physically hurt. But he was just lying in a horribly wrong position on the ground, eyes eternally staring. I tentatively stood. My head was still pounding, and the pain from the crystal splinters was beginning to come back to me. I tried to focus, to thought-heal some of the wounds, and ... nothing happened. I couldn't use my powers anymore. The final blast must have stunned my mind more than I thought. My headache certainly wasn't helping either. Maybe it was permanent, or maybe just for an hour. I was too weak to care. But I thought I could make it ... where? Where the hell was I going? I hadn't really thought clearly about it when I came here. I was just going to kill him and run, was that it? It wasn't enough. I realized I would have to stay in the village a little while, and repair some of the damage he had done, before I went off again. But now, I had to get going out of this room. I didn't really remember the way out; hopefully it would come back to me. I looked at the body of Gert where it lay. I would have to take it along. He was still my brother, even in death. And somehow, I felt like I understood him more. Not felt sorry for him, or agreed with him - his mind was too twisted for that. But I knew the ambition he felt, could picture the rage he felt ... we had always had some similarities. So I was just bending over to try and lift his body, when someone started to open the door. In a flash - or what was trying to be a flash, but was considerably slower in my current condition - I moved to hide behind the door. It swung open. My body ached, but I leapt forwards and grabbed the person in a choke hold, my hand ready to snap the neck. Multar gasped. Yes, my old friend the architect. I let him go, and swung the door closed. I explained some things to him. Not all the story, but enough so that he knew it was time to leave. I didn't, couldn't, blame him for betraying me to Gert. Multar's mind had obviously been tampered with by Gert, like Gert had had strings to everyone else's minds in the village. I expected the controls were gone now, or at least no one else would be operating them. And besides, I needed help. Between Multar and me, we made it out of the building with my staff and my brother's corpse. The sun was just rising as we exited the temple. It was appropriate, somehow. New day arriving, full of possibilities. I was unbelievably sore, and tired. My head was ready to explode with pain, and I could barely walk. But somehow, we made it to the forest outside the village, and we found an old bear's cave to curl up in. And we slept. * * * A couple of days later, I returned to the village. Multar only stayed in the cave until nightfall that same day. He wasn't nearly as wiped out as I was. I woke as he was leaving, and went out to find some food. I picked a handful of berries, and went back to sleep. The next day, I buried my brother. It was a simple ceremony. I dug a pit, and placed him in it. I laid a few fragments of crystal on top of his body. Oh, and the books. Yes, I had managed to take the books along too, over Multar's complaints. Then I threw dirt on top, and placed a handful of stones to mark the spot. And that was it. The digging was hard work, with only improvised tools, but it took my mind off what I knew I would have to do next. So all the rest of that day, I just sat there by the grave, and thought. And all the next day, I thought. I don't remember if I ate or not. I think I slept, sometime. I watched my brother's grave for a long time, and remembered. And finally, I knew how to do things. I was regaining access to my powers again. Slowly but surely, they were filtering back in as I recovered. I picked out most of the shards of crystal, too. Some were buried too deeply for me to worry about getting them out. I was even able to exert my mind enough to close many of the wounds. So then I returned to the village. I was too exhausted to psionically conceal myself, but there was a lot of uproar in the village, and I was able to get a change of clothes before I attracted too much attention. I had a meal in the inn, and as I ate, I stretched my mind. I opened up my psi like a fish-net, and waited to catch all the stray thoughts as they floated by. And more, and more thoughts. I sat there for a long time, just listening to people's thoughts. It was sad, really. They were all missing something, and no one could ever know what it was. Gert was dead, and their religion was dying. I sipped my drink for a time, and stared into the fire. I felt some empathy with the village people. Gert's death had left a hole in me too, one I had never noticed until now. Despite it all, he was still my brother. So I drank, and thought, and recalled earlier times. Eletha ... my father ... my mother ... Gert ... a parade of people and places went before me. And eventually, I knew what I had to do. * * * It was simple, really, in retrospect. Once I had more use of my powers, I just reached out and touched the priests again. Tapping into their minds was easy; Gert had already built the pathways. Through the priests, I gathered the people together. Then, one by one, I took the people into the private sanctum of the temple and cleaned their minds. I thought about adjusting their memories a little, to make it easier for them. But I decided not to. It was already far too easy to be tempted to play God. A full day and a half later, every single person had passed through the temple. I cleansed the priests. They couldn't go back to whatever jobs they had held before Gert chose them. Their taste of power had changed them totally, and changed the view their friends held of them. At least they were free too now, or as free as any of us are. * * * So I and Multar travelled onwards, from the village. Multar settled in one of the larger cities along the way. We had taken some coins from the temple; they were enough to support Multar as long as he expected to live. Then I went onwards. I didn't know where I was going. Not back to my birthplace, certainly. But not back to the monastary where I had trained, either. Perhaps I would find a city, and settle down. Or perhaps I would wander forever. Eventually the crystal-caused wounds would heal. Eventually my other wounds would heal. Eventually ... But now, I had freedom, which was enough. THE END