His fist closed around the pouch holding the jewel. At once, a faint thought came.
danger.
He sat up, staring down. A moment later, after opening the pouch, the jewel was resting in the palm of his hand.
The thought came again, much stronger.
danger.
“It was you, last night,” he whispered.
danger.
“I know that! Tell me something I don’t know. What are you?”
The facets shivered and reformed, splintered and came together, all in a microsecond. But aim never vanished, never even wavered. In a crystalline paroxysm, the facets forged a thought which could penetrate the barrier. But aim was overconfident, tried to do too much. The complex and fragile thought shattered into pieces upon first contact with the alien mind. Only the residue remained, transmuted into an image:
A metallic bird, bejewelled, made of hammered silver and gold-enamelling. Perched on a painted, wrought-iron tree. One of the marvelous constructs made for the Emperor Justinian’s palace.
“You were never made by Grecian goldsmiths,” muttered Belisarius. “Why are you here? What do you want from me? And where are you from?”
aim surged:
future.
Belisarius blew out an exasperated sigh. “I know the future!” he exclaimed. “You showed it to me. But can it be changed? And where are you from?”
Frustration was the greater for the hope which had preceded it. aim itself almost splintered, for an instant. But it rallied, ruthless with determination. Out of the flashing movement of the facets came a lesson learned. Patience, patience. Concepts beyond the most primitive could not yet cross the frontier. Again:
future.
The general’s eyes widened.
Yes! Yes! Again! The facets froze, now ruthless in their own determination.
future. future. future.
“Mary, Mother of God.”
Belisarius arose and walked slowly about in his tent. He clenched the jewel tightly in his fist, as if trying to force the thoughts from the thing like he might squeeze a sponge.
“More,” he commanded. “The future must be a wondrous place. Nothing else could have created such a wonder as you. So what can you want from the past? What can we possibly have to offer?”
Again, a metallic bird. Bejewelled, made of hammered silver and gold enamelling. Perched on a painted, wrought-iron tree. But now the focus was sharper, clearer. Like one of the marvelous constructs made for the Emperor Justinian’s palace, yes, but vastly more intricate and cunning in its design.
“Men created you?” he demanded. “Men of the future?”
yes.
“I say again: what do you want?”
aim hesitated, for a microsecond. Then, knew the task was still far beyond its capability. Patience, patience. Where thought could not penetrate, vision might:
Again, the thunderclap. Again: the tree shattered, the ceremony crushed beneath a black wave. Again: crystals, strewn across a barren desert, shriek with despair. Again, in an empty, sunless sky, giant faces begin to take form. Cold faces. Pitiless faces. Human faces, but with all of human warmth banished.
The general frowned. Almost—
“Are you saying that we are the danger to you? In the future? And that you have come to the past for help? That’s crazy!”
The facets shivered and spun, almost in a frenzy. Now they demanded and drove the demand upon aim. But aim had learned well. The thoughts were still far too complex to breach the frontier. Imperiously it drove the facets back: patience, patience.
Again, the giant faces. Human faces. Monstrous faces. Dragon-scaled faces.
“Mary, Mother of God,” he whispered. “It’s true.”
An explosive emotion erupted from the jewel. It was like a child’s wail of—not anger, so much as deep, deep hurt at a parent’s betrayal. A pure thought even forced its way through the barrier.
you promised.
Truly, thought Belisarius, it was the plaint of a bereaved child, coming from a magical stone.
The general weighed the jewel. As before, he was struck by its utter weightlessness. Yet it did not float away, somehow, but stayed in his hand. Like a trusting child.
“I do not understand you,” he whispered. “Not truly, not yet. But—if you have truly been betrayed, I will do for you what I can.”
That thought brought another smile, very crooked. “Though I’m not sure what I could do. What makes you think I could be of help?”