In that moment a second moon appeared in the night sky, bright and gleaming. And the city disappeared – just as the tidal wave swept over it.
The euphoria Talaban had experienced moments before was gone now. He had witnessed the impossible and it brought his consciousness surging back to life. No longer passively observing, he was thinking again, remembering the ship, his life and …
Touchstone!
Where was Touchstone?
He could not feel him, nor sense his presence.
With an effort of will he concentrated on the ship, the rug, the cabin, his hands on Touchstone’s shoulders. The universe span and Talaban was hurled back into his body. Touchstone still knelt before him. Talaban shook him and called his name. There was no response and his body fell to the floor.
Struggling for calm, Talaban once more entered the trance state, seeking a route back to the stars. For an hour or more he sought it but to no avail.
For the first time in decades he felt the beginnings of panic. Rising from the rug he poured himself a goblet of water and drank it swiftly, seeking calm. He stared down at the prone figure of the tribesman.
He trusted you!
The panic flared again. Talaban swore, allowing anger to wash over him, swamping the negative forces seeking to unman him.
Touchstone’s right hand lay flat against the rug, the medicine pouch having fallen from it. Talaban returned to his position and took up the pouch. Everything of value in the tribesman’s life was represented by the contents of the pouch. Touchstone believed ii\ its magic. Talaban needed it now. \
He had once heard Touchstone chanting in his cabin. Talaban’s Avatar training alloVed-‘him to recall every note, every nuance. Holding the pouch to his chest he began the chant. Colours flared in his mind, the bright blue of a summer sky, the deep multi-shaded greens of the forest trees. Sounds whispered to him: distant bird song, the faint call of the Osnu. Then something terribly cold slammed into his brain, the pain exquisitely focused.
‘You are moments from death,’ came a voice colder than the pain.
‘I must find Touchstone. He is lost,’ said Talaban.
‘Open your mind to me,’ came the command. Talaban felt as if talons were ripping at his skull, tearing it open. ‘Do not resist!’
Forcing himself to relax, the Avatar gave in to the pain. The cold was replaced by a searing heat that made him cry out. Red-hot wires seemed to be penetrating his brain, worming their way through the soft wet tissue. Bile rose in his throat and he vomited on the rug.
Then the pain eased and the voice came again. ‘You must find him.’
‘I do not know how.’
‘You have the pouch. Use it. I can lead you back to the Milk River. But only the holder of the pouch can find him.’
‘What must I do?’
‘Hang the pouch around your neck. Then hold to his body with your left hand. Reach out with your right. Once among the stars when you feel something solid it will be Touchstone. He will not want to come back. He will fight you. He will claw and bite and rend and tear. He will take many shapes and forms. They will all be illusions. Hold to him. No matter what. You understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do not let go. There will be no second attempt.’
‘I understand.’
‘Be strong. If you are not he will kill you.’
‘How can an illusion kill me?’
‘The pain will be real enough. If you believe in it you will die.’
Talaban looped the pouch over his head. ‘I am ready,’ he said. ‘Who are you?’
‘/ am the One-Eyed-Fox. Take hold of my grandson.’ Talaban did so. ‘Now close your eyes and reach out with your right hand.’
Colours blazed against his eyes, bright, burning and painful. He felt himself floating in a sea of agony and he tried to cry out, but had no voice. Then he was falling, drifting through fire. He heard a voice – many voices, all screaming at him. Phrases burst through the cacophony…
‘Loathsome child. Can you not master simple tasks?’ My father hated me. He knew the truth.