Marissa Gilder was curvy, bouncy, and petite, with round blue eyes that seemed practiced in widening to convey awe, wonder, or simply an intensity of fixation that constituted her means of ensuring the attention and special treatment that she was accustomed to. Except that, in this instance, perhaps, the awe that she was directing in Kieran's direction was more solidly grounded and not just contrived as a manipulative device. Her hair was blond, shoulder-length, and bouncy like her person, with a reflective tint that gave it a mobile golden sheen. Her face lived up to the images that the media had made popular: saucily pretty with an upturned nose, pouty mouth, rounded cheeks tapering to a button chin, all no doubt coaxed to a high point of subtly enhanced sensuousness and allurement by the coordinated efforts of an expensively retained team of beauticians and stylists. She received Kieran in a loose, sleeveless cream dress with gold spangles, suitably adorned with an exposition of gold rings, bracelets, necklace, and a hair comb.
The suite itself was a riot of flowers, cards, gifts on display, and unopened packages, with trays of candies and tidbits, a selection of cold snacks, and a corner bar for visitors in the suite's outer room. Hotel staff bustled in and out at intervals, bringing clothes to already bulging closets and removing others for packing in anticipation of departure that evening. Two Zorken security men in dark suits sat in the outer room, keeping a wary eye on Kieran through the open doorway. He had been checked for weapons on arrival, before being brought into Marissa's presence. Even so, she sat at a greater distance back from him than would have been normal for the circumstances, in the center of a couch at the far end of a low table. So far, she had followed his words with the raptness of somebody who has wandered for a lifetime, finally finding her guru. She was stunned by his awareness of events that had transpired between herself and her father, faraway on Asgard, that very morning. The plague that Kieran had named, although unknown to any of the medical authorities that had been consulted, had been described identically by another savant out in the desert with the scientific group that the Zorken people had evicted. Kieran replied modestly that obviously the same truth would manifest itself to everyone in touch with ultimate reality.
By this time, Marissa had recovered from her initial display of wonder. How much of it was genuine, and how much a Socratic way of drawing people out, Kieran hadn't yet decided. She watched him take a sip from the glass of vodka tonic he had accepted and met his eyes curiously. "I always thought people like you didn't touch alcohol and such," she commented.
Kieran waved a hand dismissively. "Imitators obsessed with externals and trivia. Such things affect me to the degree that I allow them to. The truly empowered mind controls its body and itself totally."
Marissa seemed impressed. "You must be from a very rare kind."
"Haven't we already established that?"
"So why are you here?"
"I told you in my letter: to enlist your help in warning your father and his agents against the consequences of interfering with the workings of a superior science that this culture does not yet understand."
"What's a `khal'? I tried looking it up but couldn't find it."
"It's related to `khan,' which means ruler or leader, but relates more to the world of the spiritual than of mundane human affairs."
"I see."
"An obscure central Asian word."
Marissa stared at him, her eyes round and searching, as if expecting a sudden revelation. "Is this superior science the `hidden realms' that your letter talked about?" she asked.
"Yes, exactly."
"It said you were coming to instruct about them. Very well, I'm listening."
Kieran made an expansive motion with his hands, then brought them together as if illustrating the challenge of having to sweep much into a small space. "The universe that today's science imagines to be all is but an infinitesimal part of what exists. The vaster reality contains all that has happened, will happen, and could happenall of it equally real, just as all the frames of a movie are equally real. Consciousness provides the illumination that focuses on one part, creating what we think of as the `present.' "
Marissa looked intrigued. "Is this the many-worlds picture that they get out of quantum mechanics? I know something about it."
"I prefer not getting tied down to such restrictive language. Scientists have uncovered the workings of the backstage machinery that creates the illusion, but they see it only as technicians. They miss the point of what the performance is about."
"You mean it serves a purpose."
"Of course."
"What?"
"A learning environment. The fleeting lives that mortals experience are courses charted through the totality of possibilities by personas that souls create, in such circumstances and of such natures as the soul needs to heal and to grow. When the experience is complete, the persona is discarded but the lesson remains imprinted. You could think of them as characters in a role-playing game."
"You're talking about whoever created and directed the moviewhat their purpose was," Marissa observed.
"A good way to put it," Kieran agreed.
"I knew it! So tell me more."
"The branchings that lead to all possible outcomes make morally meaningful choices possible. We can decide the kind of future we steer toward."
"Um . . ." Marissa needed to think about that. "More than a rock or a fish can, anyway," she said finally.
"You are correct. Ability to direct will is what really evolves. With the progressive emergence of consciousness, pure randomness gives way to volition."
Marissa was following intently. This was clearly a subject that fascinated her. As an imaginative and clearly far from stupid, doted-on daughter, Kieran could see how she could be an influence on Hamilton. "But not just as individuals," she said. "We're social animals too, right? So we create ways of steering collectively."
Kieran sat forward and nodded emphatically. "But . . . there was a culture of old that could shape their future in more ways than just by their collective policies and actions. They were able to manipulate the probabilities of physical reality to favor outcomes that they deemed desirable. Do you see what that means?" He allowed a few seconds for effect. "To anyone who didn't know what was going on, it would appear as if chains of improbabilities and unlikely coincidences were conspiring to drive events in unlikely directions. Strange happenings; inexplicable accidents . . ." He gave her the most gurulike glare that he could muster, intense and fixating, and let her think about it.
The blue eyes widened and rounded. "Accidents happening to people who interfered. Strange `curses.' " Marissa's voice fell almost to a whisper. "Plagues . . ."
Kieran nodded gravely. "Except that they wouldn't be curses or anything mystical. Just misinterpretations of a deeper working of reality . . . And the Ancients left the power behind them in their works. That's what your father's agents in the desert are up against. And the consequences will spread back to those who sent them if the warning is ignored."
Marissa was sold. It wasn't so much that anything Kieran had said would withstand rigorous scrutiny or a skeptical demand for evidence. But as a result of the very aimlessness that much of her life entaileddoubly frustrating for an active mind like hersit was something exciting for a change, something that she wanted to be true.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
"We need to help your father gain the same insight that you have begun to glimpse," Kieran told her.
Back in the Khal's room, Kieran found that the package containing the solution of nano-synthesizer assembly molecules from Pierre had been delivered. Since he still had time to spare before he was due to meet Leppo, he ordered a grilled mahi salad with a half carafe of chablis and ate it in the room while reviewing published information on Zorken's management structure and key people. Then, donning his cloak again and putting the bottle of solution, the white work coat, and the box containing the Martian Cross in a plastic laundry bag from the room's supplies, he took the elevator back down to the lobby level and wandered through to the room he had been in the previous evening, where the flowers for shipment were being prepared and packed. He found Marion at a desk, checking lists on a screen and singing out instructions to relays of white-coated assistants and hotel staff, coming and going. She didn't recognize him.
"Ah! You must be the madam to whom I was guided. I am told you are the one to speak with here. I have just arrived today from afar."
Marion took in his appearance and garb, and suddenly she was all attention. "You must be the person who was with Marissa Gilder this morning. I heard about you."
This was even better than Kieran had hoped. "The same," he acknowledged graciously. "We are old acquaintances."
"It's Mister . . . ?"
"Khal. Strictly, it's the Khal, but I am easy about these things."
Marion nodded knowingly. "So, what can I do for you?"
"I have a gift for her to take with her, naturally. But it would be incomplete without a floral tribute to our friendship. Could you oblige?"
"But of course. Do you have the gift with you?"
"In my room upstairs. I can be back with it in a few minutes."
"Sure, that would be just fine."
Kieran smiled in a way that was mildly apologetic. "I will probably need some help in choosing the right arrangement. It isn't exactly my field of expertise, you understand."
"I'll be happy to take care of it personally."
"Would you be able to wrap it too?"
"Certainly."
"You are too kind, madam."
"The least I can do."
Kieran appeared in the lobby just before 2:00 to find it busy with wedding guests checking out and meeting in lunch groups, or leaving early for the spaceport. Leppo was already there, standing in front of the store near the reception desk; so was Casey, Kieran notedwatching from one of the seats inside the main entrance. Kieran ambled over to stand nonchalantly a few feet away. Leppo glanced at him briefly as he approached, then took no further notice. Kieran joined him in scanning the throng of faces. After a minute or more he murmured quietly, "Two rules if you're going to be working with me, Sol, old chum. One, I'm always on time. Two, be prepared for the unexpected."
Leppo's head jerked around. He still had to stare for a second or two before he could believe it. "I don't believe it," he blurted, all the same.
"You've got the syringe?" Kieran asked him.
Leppo patted a bulge in his coat pocket. "It's here, cleaned and working."
"How did the practice go? Have you got it pat now?"
"Every time."
"Fine. Here you are, then." Kieran extracted the box with the Martian Cross from the laundry bag that he was carrying, leaving the coat and the solution inside, and passed the bag to Leppo. Leppo nodded, tucked it under an arm, and walked away in the direction of the men's washroom. Kieran, carrying the box, headed back toward the rear of the lobby. Casey was half in and half up from his seat, staring uncertainly after the bizarre character who had appeared from nowhere, whom his partner had talked to. Kieran left him to make what he could of it. Marion was waiting for him when he came back.
"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed when Kieran showed her the cross. "A Martian design. I take it that's a native rock?"
"More than just that," Kieran said. "It has emanations. I believe it reradiates the influence of associations from long ago."
"Really?" Marion allowed a moment of hushed reverence. "So, did you have any particular kind of arrangement in mind?"
"For the flowers? I leave that entirely to you."
Marion cocked her head to study the sprays and bunches arrayed around them. "Let's see . . . I think first, a crystal vase like that one to build it in . . ."
"Splendid."
"And a white motif for a wedding. Something a little exotic . . . ? White orchids with Casablanca lilies, maybe with some snapdragon too."
In the background, Leppo, wearing the white coat, came into the room behind another of the assistants. He identified the table of lilies that Kieran had briefed him on and moved casually over to it. "Not too pale," Kieran said. "To me that would carry suggestions of a deathly shade. We should have a touch of color."
"How about a blush of Bridal Pink Rose?" Marion pointed. "And variegated ivy with white and green in the leaf, like that."
"Perfect! And a background of more green to set it off."
Leppo had turned his back on the room and begun working rapidly, his shoulders hunched.
"Mixed ferns for body and support: maidenhair and Ming," Marion pronounced.
"Could we add some of that?" Kieran pointed. "What is it?"
"Yes, lily grass. A spray to flow and move with the trailing orchids. An excellent choice. You must be a natural."
"It's really you. I pick up influences toolike the rock."
"Now you're being flattering. . . ."
Mullen reported the latest to "Mr. Z," one of two "expediters" from the Firm, who were being sent to oversee the situation in Lowell and recover the lost quarter billion inner-system dollars. They were still a day or so out, inbound for Phobos.
"He went back to the Oasis and met up with his buddy, then kept an appointment. But it wasn't with Thane. It was some Ali Baba screwball in a pyjama suit that showed up there this morningseems like he knows the Gilder girl."
"No connection with Thane?" the face on the screen checked.
"Nah. He's still out in the desert with the professors . . ." Mullen turned his head to mutter at Balmer, who was following disconsolately, "like I said all along."
"How is the recruiting progressing?" Z inquired.
"They'll be up to strength by the time you get here. Two troop carriers and a gunship, loaded, plus command car." The other thing Mullen had been doing was raise reinforcements to go back to Tharsis for Thane. If the other side wanted to play it tough, that was fine with the Firm. He went on, "I figure Leppo knows the score out there. He set us up. He's at the Oasis now with his partner. I've got Brown and Black there with three soldiers. What do you want us to do?"
Z considered the situation for a few seconds. "Where is this force being assembled?" he asked.
"A warehouse at a place called Stony Flatsthat's a few miles outside the city. The flyers will leave from there to go out over the desert."
"Leppo and the other are serving no useful purpose loose and could pose a risk," Z pronounced. "Grab them now, but keep them there where you are for a while to cool off. Then bring them out to Stony Flats when we arrive, and we'll all have a talk."
"You've got it." Mullen treated Balmer to a satisfied look as he cut off the screen and clicked in the code to make a call. "Sorry, Doc, but your guess didn't pan out. We're playing it our way now. And this time, you and Leo can come along for the ride too. I wouldn't want you two to think you were missing out on anything."
It was done. The doctored lilies had been packed and were being consigned to carry their message, and the final groups of wedding guests were departing for the shuttles up to Phobos. There was little more for Kieran to do now until they arrived at Asgard, and the ceremony and reception took place, which wouldn't be until the next day. With the more immediate things taken care of, his concern turned back to Hamil and the people out at Tharsis. He had planned to go next with Leppo and Casey to Alazahad's to check what progress Mahom had made in raising a protection force.
Still arrayed as the Khal of Tadzhikstan, Kieran arrived at the elevators on his way to the lower parking level, where they had arranged to meet. It was one of those rare times in life when everything seemed to be going smoothly, he reflected as he waited for the car to arrive. And that in itself was enough to keep him on guard. It had been his experience that events never continued in such a manner for long; such deceptive calms were inevitably the prelude to the sudden bursting of a storm.
The reaffirmation that little in life ever changed came as soon as the doors opened. Two of the three men inside were none other than "Mr. Brown" and "Mr. Black," whom Kieran had last seen in the conference room at the Zodiac Commercial Bank. The third's face was unfamiliar, but he was obviously with the others and of similar ilk. "Gentlemen," Kieran acknowledged, stepping inside and smiling pleasantly. The button for the lower parking level was lit. Kieran pressed the main lobby button and turned to face the doors as they closed.
All the way down, he could feel Black's eyes traveling over him like the beam for a body scan. He could read the thoughts from behind as if they were being transmitted telepathically: There's something familiar about that guy. Where have I seen him? But obviously it didn't click.
On the lobby level, Kieran got out and headed for the stairwell down, at the same time tearing his comset from his pocket and thumbing Leppo's code. "Hel" Leppo's voice began, but Kieran cut him off.
"Sol, it's the Knight. Watch out. There are bad guys here, and they're heading your way. It could be a coincidence, but I don't . . ."
The connection had gone dead.
As Kieran moved cautiously out from a stairwell door to a landing overlooking the parking level, he saw why. The three men from the elevator had joined two others, who were with Leppo and Casey in one of the rows between the vehicles, and from their positions and attitudes, Kieran guessed, holding them at gunpoint. Even as he watched, keeping well back in the doorway, the captives were bundled into a shiny black Metrosine. Two of the others squeezed in after them, the remaining three up front. The car backed out and left in swishing display of opulent engineering and luxury. Kieran could do nothing but watch as it disappeared down the exit ramp, heading for the tunnel onto Gorky.