He rubbed his face. “I saw him dance that dance. In Jerusalem, once, during the siege.”
“What siege?” asked Antonina.
“The siege—” He waved his hand. “A siege in my vision. In the past of my vision.” He waved his hand again, firmly, quellingly. “Later. Some soldiers had heard about the dance of time, and wanted to see it. They prevailed on ‘slave’—Raghunath Rao—to dance it for them. He did, and it was dazzling. Afterward, they asked him to teach it to them, and he said it couldn’t be taught. There were no steps to that dance, he explained, that he could teach.” The general’s eyes widened. “Because it was different every time it was danced.”
Finally the facets found a place to connect. It was almost impossible, so alien were those thoughts, but aim was able to crystallize.
future.
“What?” exclaimed Belisarius. He looked around the room. “Who spoke?”
“No one spoke, Belisarius,” replied Cassian. “No one’s been speaking except you.”
“Someone said ‘future.’ ” The general’s tone was firm and final. “Someone said it. I heard it as plain as day.”
future.
He stared at the thing in his hand.
“You?”
future.
Slowly, all in the room rose and gathered around, staring at the thing.
“Speak again,” commanded Belisarius.
Silence.
“Speak again, I say!”
The facets, were it within their capability, would have shrieked with frustration. The task was impossible! The mind was too alien!
aim began to splinter. And the facets, despairing, sent forth what a human mind would have called a child’s plea for home. A deep, deep, deep, deep yearning for the place of refuge, and safety, and peace, and comfort.
“It is so lonely,” he whispered. “Lost, and lonely. Lost—” He closed his eyes, allowed mind to focus on heart. “Lost like no man has ever been lost. Lost for ever, without hope of return. To a home it loves more than any man ever loved a home.”
The facets, for one microsecond, skittered in their movement. Hope surged. aim recrystallized. It was so difficult! But—but—a supreme effort.
A ceremony, quiet, serene, beneath the spreading boughs of a laurel tree. Peace. The gentle sound of bees and hummingbirds. Glittering crystals in a limpid pool. The beauty of a spiderweb in sunlight.
Yes! Yes! Again! The facets flashed and spun. aim thickened, swelled, grew.
A thunderclap. The tree shattered, the ceremony crushed beneath a black wave. The crystals, strewn across a barren desert, shriek with despair. Above, against an empty, sunless sky, giant faces begin to take form. Cold faces. Pitiless faces.
Belisarius staggered a bit from the emotional force of these images. He described them to the others in the room. Then whispered, to the jewel: “What do you want?”
The facets strained. Exhaustion was not a thing they knew, but energy was pouring out in a rush they could not sustain. Stasis was desperately needed, but aim was now diamond-hard and imperious. It demanded! And so, a last frenzied burst—
Another face, emerging from the ground. Coalescing from the remnants of spiderwebs and bird wings, and laurel leaves. A warm, human face. But equally pitiless. His face.
The thing in Belisarius’ hand grew dull, dull, dull. It almost seemed lightless, now, though it was still impossible to discern clear shapes within it, or even the exact shape of the thing itself.
“It will not be back, for a time,” said Belisarius.
“How do you know?” asked Cassian.
The general shrugged. “I just do. It is very—tired, you might say.” He closed his eyes and concentrated. “It is so foreign, the way it—can you even call it thinking? I’m not sure. I’m not sure it is even alive, in any sense of that term that means anything.”
He sighed. “But what I am sure of is that it feels. And I do not think that evil feels.”
He looked to the bishop. “You are the theologian among us, Anthony. What do you think?”
“Heaven help us,” muttered Michael. “I am already weary, and now must listen to the world’s most loquacious lecturer.”
Cassian smiled. “Actually, I agree with Michael. It has been an exhausting night, for all of us, and I think our labors—whatever those might be—are only beginning. I believe it would be best if we resumed in the morning, after some sleep. And some nourishment,” he added, patting his ample belly. “My friend needs only the occasional morsel of roasted iniquity, seasoned with bile, but I require somewhat fuller fare.”