Belisarius knocked down two courtiers in the palace's corridors and rolled another halfway down the steps leading to the main entrance, before he finally reached a place on the square fronting the palace that was sun-drenched. He had no memory of it, afterward. All he remembered was the all-consuming, desperate hope that exposing the jewel to full daylight would somehow change things.
A stupid hope, really, on the part of a man who was anything but stupid. As if light rays and summer heat could alter the nature of space and time.
Sit down, will you? said Aide. You're gasping for breath.
Belisarius was winded. Winded and half-exhausted. Even for a still-young man in very good physical condition, that long race up the stairs from the deep cellars had taken a toll.
He more or less collapsed onto one of the wide stone benches that lined the square in front of the palace. Dully, staring at the blue sky above.
Why? he asked, and began to weep. You knew all along, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?
Actually, I didn't know at the beginning. If you remember, I didn't know very much, then. But I realized within the first year, yes. First, because it was obvious. And then, because I remembered.
Belisarius lowered his head and pinched his eyes. Remembered what?
My last conversation with the Great Ones. Just before they sent me here. Well, "sent" isn't exactly the right word. Neither is "me," for that matter. I wasn't really me, when I left, and I wasn't sent here so much as they made it possible . . .
He was silent, for a moment. It's really hard to explain, Belisarius. What existed then—in the future—was nothing you would have recognized as "Aide." I emerged here, over time, where I had only been faceted crystals before. What was sent here was not a "me" that had never existed before, but more in the way of the condensed facets. A package of potential, if you will, not a real person.
Apologetically: I know it doesn't make much sense to you. But it's true. The Great Ones told me I would change, and they were right.
His eyes still pinched, Belisarius shook his head. Those bastards. They sent you here to die, is what they did.
Yes, in a way. But it's not that simple. If I didn't die—volunteer for it—my people wouldn't live.
Angrily, Belisarius dropped his hand and slapped his thigh. "Bullshit!" he shouted, aloud. Don't tell me they couldn't have handled those so-called "new gods" on their own—without this.
Yes, but—
The crystal's flashing image in Belisarius' mind seemed to freeze, for an instant. Then, sounding very relieved, Aide said: They're coming. I hoped they would. I will let them explain.
For the second time in his life, Belisarius felt himself swept away into the heavens, as if blown there by a giant's gust.
As before, he found himself hanging in darkness. Somewhere—somehow—suspended in space. Able to observe the stars and galaxies, but not really part of that universe.
And, as before, he saw a point of light erupt, and come before him in the form of a Great One. Only, this time, it was many points of light and many Great Ones. He seemed to be facing a three-dimensional phalanx of the beings.
Why? he demanded of them, feeling—this time—none of the awe he had felt before. Only anger. Couldn't you have done it some other way?
One of the Great Ones swirled and moved closer. OF COURSE, GRANDFATHER. BUT AT WHAT COST? THE QUESTION WAS NEVER THAT OF THE FATE OF THE NEW GODS. ONCE THEY DESTROYED THEIR PLANET, THEY WERE AT OUR MERCY. WE COULD HAVE ERASED THEM FROM EXISTENCE AT ANY TIME—AS, INDEED, WE SHALL DO NOW. BUT ONLY AT THE COST OF CONDEMNING AIDE'S NOT-YET-PEOPLE TO PERPETUAL SLAVERY.
I don't—
AIDE JUST TOLD YOU HIMSELF. HE ONLY BECAME AIDE WITH YOU. ONLY WHEN, FOR THE FIRST TIME, A CRYSTAL ACCEPTED THAT IT WAS SOMETHING GREATER THAN A SERVANT. A SLAVE—NOT ONLY TO THE NEW GODS, BUT TO US, WHO CREATED THEM.
A second Great One looped above, now speaking also. TELL US, BELISARIUS. HOW DO YOU MANUMIT A SLAVE WHO DOES NOT THINK HE IS A HUMAN? IN FACT, IS NOT—YET—A HUMAN.
The huge, glowing creature completed the loop and began spinning slowly. WE DID NOT SEND AIDE TO YOU SO THAT HE MIGHT DIE. WE SENT HIM SO THAT HE MIGHT LIVE, AND BE BORN, AND BECOME SOMETHING WITH A NAME OF HIS OWN. WHICH, WITH YOUR HELP, HE DID. AND NOW, HAVING DONE SO, MUST NATURALLY DIE. JUST AS YOU WILL DIE. JUST AS WE WILL DIE. JUST AS ALL HUMANS DIE.
He doesn't have to die this young! Belisarius shrieked.
YES, HE DOES. JUST AS MOST OF YOUR SOLDIERS ALSO DIE YOUNG. JUST AS YOU—A YOUNG MAN—MIGHT HAVE DIED ANY OF A HUNDRED TIMES DURING THE WAR. IF YOU WANT AIDE TO BE HUMAN—TRULY HUMAN AND NO LONGER A SLAVE TO ANYONE—THEN YOU HAVE TO GIVE HIM THAT CHOICE. CHOICE, GRANDFATHER. WHICH HE MADE, NOT US.
FINALLY. AFTER MILLENNIA WHEN THE CRYSTALS COULD NOT ACCEPT THAT CHOICE—THE SIMPLE ABILITY TO CHOOSE—WAS THEIRS ALSO. JUST AS IT IS OURS, AND YOURS, AND THE BIRTHRIGHT OF EVERY MEMBER OF EVERY BRANCH AND FORM OF HUMANKIND. THIS TIME, THEY WERE BOLD ENOUGH TO TRY. THEY TRIED, AND THEY TRIUMPHED. WOULD YOU NOW, AT THE END, DENY AIDE AND HIS PEOPLE THAT GREAT VICTORY?
Belisarius felt as if he were reeling, though he simply hung in space. He tried to come up with an answer, but . . .
Couldn't.
Aide's voice came then, almost timidly. I am content, Belisarius. Really, I am. I will be the first crystal in history who had a name. And whose name will be remembered.
MORE THAN REMEMBERED! That voice came roaring, just as the point of light from which it emanated also came roaring forward. A moment later, a new Great One hung in space before Belisarius.
This one . . . was immense. Truly immense. It dwarfed its companions.
Yet, despite its gargantuan size, it seemed somehow frail. As if it were shredded both at the edges and within its core.
"IT," the Great One said, somehow sounding sarcastic. I AM ONE OF YOUR GRANDDAUGHTERS, OLD MAN. MANY, MANY TIMES REMOVED, OF COURSE.
AND, NOW, VERY OLD MYSELF.
Belisarius wondered how such strange beings could be male or female. He could see no . . .
There came the sense of laughter, from many voices.
IT IS QUITE OBVIOUS TO US, GRANDFATHER! said the first Great One. TRUE, OUR SENSES OUTNUMBER YOURS, BY A GREAT MARGIN.
The huge, ancient female kept spinning in place. AIDE MADE HIS CHOICE, AND IT WAS THE RIGHT ONE. HE WILL NOT SIMPLY BE REMEMBERED. FROM THIS MOMENT FORWARD, ALL THE CRYSTALS IN THE UNIVERSE ARE CHANGING. EACH AND EVERY ONE HAS JOINED THE HUMAN CLAN—AND EACH AND EVERY ONE KNOWS AIDE TO BE THE FOUNDER OF THEIR LINE.
THINK OF HIM, BELISARIUS, AS THEIR ALEXANDER. OR BETTER STILL, THEIR ACHILLES. THE SHORT BUT GLORIOUS LIFE THAT BREATHED LIFE INTO ALL OF THEM.
BUT ENOUGH! I HAVE A RENDEZVOUS TO KEEP.
A quick half-spin, and the shining leviathan was speeding off, with most of the others following.
WOULD YOU CARE TO WATCH? asked one of the remaining Great Ones.
Yes, Aide replied, before Belisarius could speak. I would.
They were somewhere else, in an instant. Still hanging in the void, or seeming to, but there was more than just stars and galaxies to see. Below them—in front of them, perhaps—hung a dark, very ugly . . .
Something. A moon?
It's an asteroid, Aide explained. A pretty big one. Big enough for gravity to have pulled it into a sphere.
How did we get here so—
Nothing you are seeing is happening according to the time frame you are accustomed to. It is much faster—or much slower. In a way, it's already happened, in the far future.
Somewhat plaintively: Time is a lot more slippery than it looks.
Either they moved forward or Belisarius' eyesight became more acute. He could now see that the asteroid was covered with what looked to be machines of some sort.
Is that—?
Yes. The last—the only remaining—fortress of the new gods. Where they retreated, to await what they thought would be their Armageddon. Which, in fact, it is about to become—but not the way they planned.
Suddenly, the surface of the asteroid erupted. Dazzling beams of light sprang up, intermixed with odd flashes.
The Great Ones are coming. Those are weapons firing. Don't ask me how they work. I don't know, exactly, and I couldn't explain even if I did. They're very powerful, though. If they still had the resources of a planet to draw on, the Great Ones could do nothing but die here.
Some of them will probably die anyway.
Belisarius could feel himself taking a deep breath, even though there seemed to be nothing he could actually breathe.
You're not really here. You're still sitting on a bench outside the imperial palace in Kausambi, staring at nothing. A familiar tone of humor came: People would think you were crazy—might lock you up—except it'll only last for a split-second. Back there. What we're watching here is actually taking several years to happen.
Now Belisarius could see the phalanx of the Great Ones approaching. Except, as it neared, he realized it wasn't so much a phalanx as a three-dimensional version of the old Roman maniples. There was fluidity, here.
Tactics, in fact.
Several of the Great Ones veered off, then back, racing toward the asteroid. The light beams and flashes concentrated on them. If Belisarius was interpreting what he saw correctly, they were being hit.
Pretty badly, in fact. But they can absorb a lot of punishment, before—
Aide seemed to take a deep breath himself. This is dangerous, what they're doing.
The Great One nearest the asteroid seemed to brush its surface. Scrape along it, rather, for almost a quarter of its diameter. As the Great One passed back into space, a gout of blazing material followed. Molten and half-vaporized weaponry, Belisarius realized.
Not to mention quite a few new gods. What's left of them, which isn't much. The emotion behind that thought was more savage than any Belisarius could ever remember, coming from Aide.
I really hate those creatures.
Another Great One struck the surface. Then another, and another. With each grazing blow, more and more of the asteroid's surface was being peeled away.
Another Great One came. A truly huge one. The same ancient female that had spoken to Belisarius. Somehow, he recognized her.
THAT'S BECAUSE I'M THE PRETTIEST, he heard her mocking voice. USED TO BE, ANYWAY, HALF A MILLION YEARS AGO.
Belisarius became tense. The ancient one's strike was . . .
No grazing strike, this. A great wound was torn in the asteroid. Belisarius could sense the gargantuan being reeling from the blow itself.
Herself.
Not only the blow, but the weapons fire that had been concentrated on her. She was shedding substance, as she moved off. Like a giant golden angel, spilling her shining blood.
ENOUGH, I THINK, he heard her say. AM I RIGHT?
The voices of several Great Ones answered.
YES.
THAT WHOLE HEMISPHERE IS NOW DEFENSELESS.
CAN YOU—?
The tone of voice, answering, seemed a mixture of pain held under control and harsh amusement.
I'LL MANAGE. IT'LL ONLY TAKE A FEW YEARS, ANYWAY. BUT YOU'LL HAVE TO GUIDE ME, SISTERS AND BROTHERS. I'M BLIND NOW.
She moved off, very rapidly, until she disappeared. Four of the other Great Ones sped off to join her.
After what seemed only seconds, Belisarius could see them returning. Just tiny points of light, at first.
It took—will take—the tenses don't work right—a lot longer than that. A number of years. But not enough for the new gods to rebuild their defenses.
As the Great Ones neared, Belisarius could see what appeared to be a lattice of light binding the five together.
Think of it as the others holding her hands. Keeping her straight.
They were moving very fast. Belisarius could sense it.
By now, she is at ninety-seven percent of light speed. And she was already very massive.
Finally, Belisarius understood.
A last thought came to him, from the ancient Great One. Still with that tone of harsh amusement.
SO, GRANDFATHER. DID YOU REALLY THINK WE HAD FORGOTTEN THERMOPYLAE?
Her companions veered aside. Alone, now, the ancient Great One struck the asteroid.
No grazing strike, this; not even a wounding strike. She plunged into the core of the asteroid, in a blow as straight and true and fatal as a sword through the heart.
The asteroid simply . . . vaporized. There was nothing left but a great, glowing, spreading cloud of plasma and dust.
I hated the new gods, Aide said. But I almost wish . . .
There are no new gods, Belisarius answered coldly. There never were. And now there is only the memory of demons.
Goodbye, Granddaughter. If I ever meet the ghosts of Leonidas and his Spartans, I will tell them that their bloodline ran true.
He was back in the square at Kausambi, staring up at the sky. It was quite cloudless.
I'm glad. I never much liked clouds. Too messy.
Belisarius couldn't stop himself from barking a laugh.
Look, I'm a crystal, Aide said, a bit defensively. We're just naturally more fussy housekeepers than you protoplasmic slobs.
Tears welled into his eyes. Oh, dear God, I will miss you.
Yes, I know. But there was a time I wouldn't have understood that at all—and it was my life here that made that change possible. Made all things possible, for me and all of my children. And that is what they are now, Belisarius, all those untold trillions of living crystal humans. My children. Flesh of my flesh, so to speak, and mind of my mind.
After a moment, in that witty tone that Belisarius would also miss desperately: Of course, we're not as sloppy about the whole business as you are.
For a split-second far too brief to measure, Belisarius felt as if a ripple passed through the world.
It did, said Aide quietly. I love you, Grandfather. Goodbye.
Damodara himself was the first to approach Belisarius, still sitting on the bench. The Roman general's eyes were open, and wet, but he seemed not to notice the emperor at all.
Gently, Damodara opened his loosely closed fist. Then sighed, seeing what lay within. He had seen that jewel, once, in all its transcendent glory. Now it was just a dull stone. No different from any he might find embedded in a cliff, or lying loose on a sandy beach.
Just as gently, he closed the fist. When he straightened up, he said: "See to it that no one disturbs him, for however long he chooses to remain here."
An officer jerked his head. Two of the soldiers who accompanied the imperial party moved forward to take position on either side of the general. But Sanga waved them back.
"Not them. I will do it myself. And his two cataphracts, if they choose."
Anastasius moved forward, saying nothing.
"You've got to be kidding," muttered Valentinian.
He took his position to the right of Belisarius, where Anastasius was to the left. Sanga remained standing, just behind.
Their postures were quite similar. Except that Valentinian, naturally, held his sword in his hand.
"Anybody bothers the general, he's fucking dead."
Damodara heard the mutter. He said quietly to the officer: "Best position a number of soldiers around the square. Some beggar or dimwit might wander by. And, ah, the Mongoose is not joking."
Near sundown, Belisarius emerged from his half-trance. Jerking his head a little, he looked first to the right, then to the left, and then over his shoulder.
Seeing Sanga, his lips twisted. The expression bore no resemblance, really, to the crooked smile the Rajput king remembered. But he was still glad to see it.
"I need to speak to the emperor," Belisarius said, "but I don't want to miss the sunset. Not this one. Ask him if he'd be willing to meet me here."
"Of course." Sanga was striding up the steps a moment later, taking them two at a time with his long legs.
Not five minutes later, Damodara emerged from the palace, with Sanga at his side. When he came up to the bench, Belisarius shifted over, leaving room for the emperor.
"Sit, please, if you would. I realize a dozen courtiers will drop dead from shock at the sight."
Smiling, Damodara sat. "No such great fortune, I fear. But perhaps a few might be struck dumb, for a time."
They sat silently, for a moment, both looking at the sunset. By now, the sun was below the rooftops.
"I am sorry, Belisarius."
"Yes."
Silence, again, for a few minutes. Then Belisarius shook his head.
"Life goes on. As amazing as that seems, sometimes."
The emperor said nothing. Just nodded.
"As I recall, the quarrel was over where to hold the peace conference."
"Yes," said Damodara. "I proposed holding it here, but—"
"No, that won't work. Rao might be willing to come, but Shakuntala would have him chained and shackled. She has no great trust—yet, anyway—for any Malwa."
Damodara chuckled. "That was the gist of it. The young empress of Andhra expressed herself, ah, with more youthful vigor."
"Hold it in Bharakuccha. It's closer to neutral ground than any other. And have the new medical orders organize and manage the thing."
"Bharakuccha . . ." Damodara considered the proposition. "Yes, that makes sense. But will the medical orders be ready for such a task, on so little notice?"
"My wife Antonina's already there, and she's still officially the head of the Hospitalers. Anna Saronites can get there quickly—trust me on that—and Bindusara is not far away. Meaning no offense, Your Majesty, but I think the three of them can manage the business considerably better than a pack of courtiers and officials."
"Well. True. Good idea, Belisarius."
Belisarius pinched his eyes. "I got it from Aide, actually. Just yesterday."
But when he looked up, there was only a hint of moisture in the eyes. "There is also—always—the memory of angels," he said quietly.
He seemed to be speaking to himself, more than to the emperor. "And what else are we, really, than memories? It took me all afternoon to understand. He came here so that he could have memories also. And, having gained them—fought for them, and won them—he left them behind for me. For all of us."
"I will have a monument erected to the Talisman of God," said Damodara.
"Make it a small one. Not ostentatious. A place for quiet meditation, not pomp and parades. I know a good place for it. A sal grove between the Ganges and the Yamuna, where an Armenian soldier already rests. He and Aide would both like that, I think."
He smiled, finally. "And make sure it's well kept-up, please. He disliked messiness."