“Death!” Hugh swore, catching his arm, and Father Fletcher seconded him. “There is a curse on that staff, friend Dulain.”
Dirk lifted his head and turned to look straight into the priest’s eyes. “I don’t … believe … in curses.”
“Believe in this one,” the priest advised. “He who tries to bear DeCade’s staff—he who seeks to join those broken halves—will die.” He raised a hand to forestall Dirk’s retort. “This is no idle threat, my friend. It has happened three times over the centuries. Three times, men who have thought they were worthy to take up DeCade’s staff and lead us, have tried; and three times, lightning has struck them down where they stood.”
Dirk started a sarcastic reply, but somehow it got caught.
“It is death,” Hugh agreed, scowling.
And Dirk remembered that, even if he didn’t believe in curses, these people did. If he wanted to stay on good terms with them, he’d have to observe their taboos. His mouth drew into a thin, straight line; he closed his eyes, nodding. “Don’t worry. I won’t touch it.”
Then he bent over, to peer more closely at the ragged ends of the staff. A tiny glint of gold; another, and another … He peered into the other broken end, saw similar metallic glints, spaced equally around the circumference, and a larger one in the center. He nodded thoughtfully. Electrical contacts, probably for molecular circuits … No, they hadn’t had those five hundred years ago, but they’d had integrated circuits, and, as he remembered, they’d even then managed them on a microscopic scale. Three inches thick, eight feet long … Yes, you could pack a whale of a lot of circuitry in. that volume—enough for a computer. Not a very intelligent one, but still … Yes, DeCade’s staff had been powerful medicine once. Very powerful.
And—suddenly—he believed in the curse. Capacitors could be pretty small, too; and so could atomic batteries. Put the wrong contact together, and … He stood up with a shudder. “Don’t worry, Father. I’ll leave that thing alone.”
The priest breathed a huge sigh of relief. “I am very glad to hear it, my friend; for you must stay here, you and Madelon and your great friend, until Lord Core and his troops have ridden far by.”
Dirk frowned. “Won’t we all?”
Hugh stood, shaking his head. “We have come only to kneel in DeCade’s presence, to refresh ourselves and renew our resolve. Now we must return below to watch, so that if the hunters come too near, we can strike out across open ground and lead them away from this place.”
“But if you do, they’ll catch you.”
Hugh looked hard into his eyes. “They must not find this place, friend Dulain. If we die, then we die.”
Dirk stared. Then he shook himself out of it. “Then why shouldn’t Gar and I die with you? We’re the ones they’re looking for.”
Hugh held his gaze. “I am not entirely a fool, friend Dulain. Of the two of us, I know which can be replaced by any man, and which cannot.”
He held Dirk’s eyes a moment longer; then he turned and marched out, his outlaws behind him. Father Fletcher lingered. “I will go down with them and return to tell you when the way is clear. Do you care for the giant, your friend.” Then he turned away through the stone arch, and was gone. Dirk looked after him a moment, then found a handy boulder and sat down with a sigh, letting the worries roll off him. He looked up at Gar, where the giant sat not far from the bier, staring at the skeleton with unseeing eyes. Walls filled with the echoes of torment had driven his mind into hiding. Dirk wondered what echoes these walls contained. A rustle of cloth, and Dirk looked up to see Madelon sitting gracefully beside him.
“Yes,” she murmured, watching Gar. “It tears at your heart, does it not? A man so full of life, so proud and so vigorous, turned to less than a babe in a single night.”
A stab of guilt lanced Dirk; he hadn’t been brooding over that one at all. “It almost seems he should’ve died. It might’ve been kinder.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, nodding, and clasped his hand. Dirk felt a hot sizzle of jealousy, and wondered just how much feeling she had had for the big man.
She looked up at him. “How did it come about?”
Dirk’s mouth twisted as though he’d tasted aloes. “It’s an ugly story …” Then he looked fully at Gar, and broke off, grabbing her hand.
She turned and looked, frowning; then she stared, too. Gar had picked up a pebble, was holding it a foot from his face, staring at it. As they watched, he replaced it, slowly and methodically, and selected another.
“Can his mind be returning?” she breathed. Dirk nodded slowly. “I think it is.” He turned to her, smiling. “It’s the peace of this place; it’s never known anything but reverent thoughts.”
“Thoughts?” She frowned, puzzled. “What has that to do with his madness?”
“I think he’s a psychometrist,” Dirk said slowly. “He hears the thoughts stored in the walls of a room, the feelings of the people who’ve been there, all the people who’ve ever been there. And, if you put a man like that in a Bedlam, where there’ve never been anything but feelings of rage, despair, terror, and confusion—”
“Why, most surely he would go mad!” she breathed, staring into his eyes; and he saw the horror coming up in hers.
“Not a madness of terror,” he explained quickly. “I think it’s more that his mind has retreated, backed off into a corner of his brain, and walled it off to protect himself until he’s in a more livable environment.”
“Why, yes.” Her eyes widened in wonder. “And he is in such a place now, is he not? A place of peace, where generations of churls have come to pay homage…”
Dirk nodded. “The peace and reverence of the place are drawing him out.” He looked back at Gar over his shoulder; the big man had leaned forward to lay his hand on a giant quartz crystal.
Dirk slammed a fist into his palm. “But, damn it! I should’ve seen it coming! I had a dozen leads—how he managed to find me in the first place, how the questions he asked dovetailed with what I was thinking at the time, how quickly he picked up the prisoners’ customs in the arena, how easily he was able to fit into their attitudes in just a few days, to the point where they chose him leader! That should’ve told me he was a telepath, at least—and I should’ve realized what would happen to him in a Bedlam!”
“No man could have foreseen that much.” Dirk looked up, startled by the warmth and gentleness of her voice. Her eyes were filled with tears, but her face had a look of tenderness that almost shocked him, and took his breath away by the extraordinary beauty it gave her. “Do not blame yourself,” she murmured. “No man could have foreseen it, and even if you had, there was nothing you could have done. This is not your burden; do not borrow it.”
He stared into her eyes for a long, long moment; then, slowly, he leaned forward, and took her lips within his own in a long, full kiss. He closed his eyes, blocked out the light; there was nothing except the touch of her lips under his, their thawing, responding, beginning to demand, craving, full and moist, parted …
Suddenly her lips were gone; he heard her scream, “No!” His head snapped up, eyes wide open.
He saw Gar on his knees by the skeleton, the two halves of the broken staff in his hands, scowling intently as he tried to bring them together, like a child with a puzzle.
“Stop!” Madelon screamed again, and Dirk broke into a scrambling run, throwing himself across the chamber, remembering just how much power a few grams of uranium could put out …