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Heyr looked at his meal of vegetables and bread and a big glass of water, and
sighed. But he ate.
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Lauren settled back into her seat. So what did you find?
The next human world was Raven. Eleven worlds down from Tripwoll.
And beyond that?
Here. Nineteen worlds down from Tripwoll.
Lauren closed her eyes. One, one, one, four, eleven, nineteen. Is that a
mathematical sequence? Has anyone looked at it that way to see if they could
predict the recurrence of human worlds farther down the line?
He gave her a quick, approving grin. We did, eventually, but it wasn t the
first thing we thought of. The one you note, by the way, is one of the two
possible sequences. The other sequence is one, two, three, seven, eighteen,
thirty-seven which is each world s position relative to Opfann, the first
known human world.
Lauren ate and thought. After a minute, she said, The fact that there is a
first known human world makes it pretty likely that there would be a last one
as well.
It does, and that is the conclusion I finally came to. That this world is
humanity s last stand, and if we lose it, we lose not just our entire species
but everything humankind has done. Art and architecture, science and music,
literature and humor, history and law. It stops here. Which is why I ve
stopped here. I will not leave Earth if this planet falls, I go with it. Loki
is the same, though for other reasons. He s simply trapped here, though being
trapped without choice has created a degree of loyalty in him that no amount
of reason ever managed.
Lauren considered that. I d never even imagined that there had ever been
other human worlds. Does this mean there are other rrôn worlds? Other keth
worlds?
Not that I know of. But they might have had many worlds of their own up the
chain. Heyr shrugged. I could go to Oria. The veyâr at least have a human
sense of passion and an interest in the arts and sciences. They re
comprehensible. But& I have no wish to live out the rest of eternity wrapped in
alien flesh. Here here I can have a home and a woman and good honest work,
wearing my own skin. I can go about my business day to day without wondering
if anyone has noticed that I m not quite right. I do not have to worry that I
have somehow betrayed myself, or that my neighbors, grown suspicious of me and
what I am, will creep into my house at night to try to kill me.
I suppose that depends on your neighborhood as much as anything, but I do
understand.
Perhaps you understand intellectually. But I have arisen each morning to look
in the mirror and see the face of a stranger looking back at me. I have lived
on worlds not my own. The call of same becomes very strong, Lauren. We begin
to cry out for people like us. We want to understand and be understood, to
know that we belong. And this is the last world where we belong.
Lauren tried to imagine looking into a mirror and having something green with
horns look back at her. She tried to imagine having to make Jake over into a
veyâr replica, or a goroth replica, or& something else. She closed her eyes and
bit her lip. I see.
Do you? Then you have to let me stay with you. I hope to convince others to
share my burden to join me as immortals and as gods, but the weight I carry
has proven too much for almost all of the old gods. It is heavy beyond all
reason, and it may be that I alone can stand against the horrors that will
come for you. You have to let me protect you. You re alone, you and your boy.
The biggest and worst nightmares in the universe are coming after you, and
even though we beat them today, they re going to keep coming. Without me,
they ll eventually get to you. And then you will die, and Earth, which is the
last repository for all of humankind through all the ages, will come to an
end. And some little smattering of humankind will flee downworld, lost,
refugees forever after with only memories of what they once had.
CHAPTER 12
Kerras Baanraak of Silver and Gold
BAANRAAK ARRIVED ON the dark side of Kerras in the cold the bitter, vile,
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airless cold. He d expected to have to struggle to find enough live magic on
the planet to form a pocket of atmosphere around his body that he could keep
warm and full of oxygen. Instead, the magic he needed was right there, rich
and live and plentiful. It caused him physical pain to use it, though it was
clearly hers, the sister s. He knew her name if he thought about it Molly had
thought of her sister. Lauren. Yes. Lauren with one child, and the power to
reshape a worldchain. Lauren had found a way to place a magic siphon on
Kerras. And Baanraak was going to be dependent on it as long as he was here.
He closed his eyes and breathed the layer of air that surrounded him, and made
it warm. It was already sweet, irrevocably tainted by the magical energy that
had transformed it.
But he liked sweet air. He liked sun-warmed rocks, too, and the sound of tall
grasses rustling in the breeze, and the sight of Vraish wildlife eons extinct
but never far from his memory. On this airless, icebound rock he now found
enough magic that he could create a little pocket of his long-gone world. He
could give himself a gift no other dark god had experienced the luxury of
going home, if only in a little way and for a little while.
He would have to use live magic to do it, and that would cause him a great
deal of pain. But, by the Egg, it would be better than lying on a frozen rock
surrounded by nothing but ice and snow and howling winds.
Baanraak closed his eyes. Some things one had to do without permitting oneself
excessive time to think if he allowed himself to think about this, he would
find reasons to talk himself out of it. It probably was a very bad idea. But
suddenly he realized that the air that surrounded him smelled exactly like
Vraish air, which he had not smelled since he d fled his world at its
destruction, certain that he would not miss it. And the feeling of
homesickness overwhelmed him.
Just a little pocket, he thought, and inhaled the burning magic deeply. He
fought the pain, and when he could move past it, Baanraak, with his eyes
tightly closed, breathed out a pocket of air and warmth. He did not permit
himself to look, for the eyes could be deceived and the art destroyed.
He inhaled. Held the magic through agonizing pain. Exhaled, expanding the
sphere of warmth and atmosphere, shaping it, controlling the live magic with
the same skill and precision that he controlled death magic. The techniques
were the same; only the materials and the results differed.
Through a dozen breaths, he brought the magic into himself and shaped it
outward, expanding his bubble until it was large enough that he would be able
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