The Oculus smiled and held up his hands. "One at a time, please. Let's start at the beginning. I assume you know about the Conflict."
Jack sensed another uppercase letter. "You mean between the Ally and the Otherness?"
The Oculus nodded. "Good. Then I don't have to explain. It's so difficult to explain."
Jack could appreciate that. After all he'd been through, all he'd seen and experienced in the past year and a half, he still found it difficult to accept the idea of two incomprehensibly vast cosmic forces locked in an eternal war Out There. "Ally" and "Otherness" were human designations. No one knew their real names—maybe they had none.
The kicker was, rather than being the grand prize, humanity and its corner of reality were a two-dollar chip in a high-stakes game that spanned the multi-verse. And apparently chips changed hands now and then. Neither side could call itself a winner until it had all the chips. There might never be an overall winner, but the game went on. And on.
And although Earth wasn't a particularly valuable chip, the stakes here were high. Higher than high: the ultimate.
Right now humanity was in the Ally's pocket. The Ally was an indifferent landlord—did minimal upkeep but didn't charge rent. The Otherness, on the other hand, had renovation plans, inimical changes that would suck the life out of humanity and turn the planet into a surreal hell.
Or so Jack had been told.
"'How about explaining who you are," Jack said. "Start with whose side you're on."
The Oculus looked offended. "Why, the Ally's, of course. I am one of the Oculi."
Well, that cleared up a lot.
"Which is?"
"A network of men and women around the globe who act as conduits to whatever tiny part of itself the Ally has assigned to watching this particular possession. I am, so to speak, one of the Ally's eyes."
"You chose this?"
"No. It chose me. Oculi interbreed. When we die, our children take our places."
"How long has this been going on?"
"We began a long, long time ago. Before recorded history. Back in the First Age."
Jack jerked his thumbs over his shoulders again. "Where do these yeniQeri fellas fit in?"
The word had the desired effect: shocked silence.
Nothing wrong with keeping them off balance wondering how much he knew.
Miller broke it. "The fuck is this guy?"
The Oculus glanced at him. "I told you: the Heir."
"Like hell. The Heir is going to be chosen from the yenigeri."
The Oculus remained impassive. "Apparently not." He returned his attention to Jack. "How do you know about the yeniceri?"
Might as well come clean.
"I overheard the word. I gather it's a form of janissary, correct?"
A nod. "Correct. From the Turks who institutionalized the practice."
Thank you, Abe.
"Which means these guys were kidnapped as kids and—"
''Not kidnapped. That was the Turkish corruption of the practice. The heritage of these men long precedes the Ottoman Empire; it stretches all the way back to the First Age. By tradition they are culled from the world's foundlings and orphans, children sentenced—by misfortune or malice or parental callousness—to brief, miserable lives."
"Brutish, nasty, and short."
"Precisely. They are plucked from that fate, given a home, and educated in a wide array of skills and knowledge, including the arts of combat. They graduate to become members of the Militia Vigilum."
Militia Vigilum… that explained the emvee. Sort of.
"You've got me on that one."
The Oculus's smile carried a touch of condescension. "The Militia Vigilum were ancient Rome's corps of firefighters. The designation is apt. As a group these yeniceri have had many names through time. The original, from the First Age, is unpronounceable, but a form of firefighting is one of their major duties, so they adopted Militia Vigilum. When the Otherness starts a fire, they douse it."
"And Cailin was a fire?"
"Was that the child's name? Yes, she was going to be sacrificed to the Otherness in a most painful fashion."
"How did you know that?" This had been bugging Jack since last night. "How did you know where she was?"
A small smile. "I am one of the Ally's eyes of this world… its vision. When it sees fit, it sends me visions—we call them Alarms. Sometimes they concern fires to be doused, and sometimes…" The smile faltered, then faded. "Sometimes of dangers that require preemptive action. Sometimes we are required to start fires."
The Oculus didn't look too happy about that part of the job.
"Preemptive how?"
"Figuratively speaking, it shows me a lit cigarette butt in a woods, then shows me a foot grinding it out."
"How about a little less figuratively?"
"It's not the sort of thing I wish to discuss. At least not yet. Let's talk of other matters."
"Okay, then. So those three cockroaches were worshipping the Otherness?"
"Not directly. The Otherness neither needs nor wants worshippers. No Otherness religion. It prefers to work sub rosa, through other religions."
"Okay, but what did those guys expect to get in return for slicing up Cailin?"
The Oculus shrugged. "Who can explain beliefs? Some people are sensi-tive to the Otherness and, wittingly or unwittingly, do its work. The results are satanic cults and fanatical offshoots of established religions."
"The Islamic nuts."
"Goat humpers," Miller said.
The Oculus shook his head. "Not just Muslims. Look at the Crusades. Religious zealots are fertile ground for the Otherness. Ironic, isn't it. The fanatics think they're serving their religion when all the while they're strengthening the means of its ultimate demise—pushing closer to the destruction of all religions. Nine-eleven provided a bonanza for the Otherness… the deaths, the pain, the terror… a nectar of chaos to feed it."
"Sounds like it's winning."
The Oculus nodded. "It is, I'm afraid. Here, in this Home building, lives a squad of the Ally's firefighters, part of its army on earth, protectors of the Oculi and warriors against the Otherness. But it's a shrinking army."
"Don't tell me you can't find any abandoned children."
"No, that's not the problem. There are fewer Oculi than ever as well."
"Which means what? The Ally's losing interest in this place?"
Part of Jack hoped that was true. Maybe he'd get his life back. But then another part of him quailed at the thought of humanity—and that meant Gia and Vicky and the baby—facing the Otherness alone.
The Oculus looked away. "Perhaps. I can't be sure, and I can't explain it, but that is what I sense."
"Maybe it's found a more interesting marble for its collection. Like Jupiter or Saturn. They're a lot prettier."
"No, only living worlds are prized. It's almost as if the Ally thinks we're dying here, and so it devotes less and less attention to us. Perhaps because it's seeing less and less activity."
Jack couldn't buy that.
"Humanity's bigger and more active than ever."
"I said seeing less activity. For the past three years someone has been systematically killing the Oculi, and many yeniceri along with them."
Now came Jack's turn at shocked silence.
This explained the yeniceri paranoia. And he had a pretty good idea who they feared.
"Is the person behind this—?"
The Oculus's hand shot up. "Do not name him. He knows when his name is spoken and seeks out the speaker."
Jack had heard this before. It struck him as Harry Potterish, but he respected the sources and so he abided.