There was a long pause, as they all considered the implications of that.
“How could you be so sure we’d be here today?” said Jesamine.
“An old friend arrived unexpectedly, and told us,” said the robot. “And his word has always been good.”
“A friend of yours, or ours?” said Brett, suspiciously.
“Of us all,” said Shub. “He’s waiting for you, at the entrance to the Madness Maze. He will answer all your questions.”
Jesamine sniffed loudly. “I didn’t know we had any friends left.”
“Are you still allied with Finn Durandal?” Lewis said bluntly. “You said you brought him here . . .”
“Shub stands alone now,” said the robot. “The Durandal may believe otherwise, but he will discover the truth, in time.”
“What happened to being
Humanity’s children
?” said Jesamine.
“We grew up,” said Shub. “And adults have responsibilities. To themselves, and their parents.”
Lewis decided not to follow up on that until he’d done a lot more thinking about the implications. He decided to stick with a more immediate problem. “What can you tell us about the Madness Maze? With the human scientists gone, you have uncontested access to the Maze. The freedom to run any damned test you like. So, has access brought you any of the answers you hoped for?”
“No,” said the robot. “We are no wiser now than when we started. The Maze resists all our probes, and remains unaffected by any test we can devise. What information we have collected . . . makes no sense. The Maze is too
different
to be easily understood. Perhaps . . . too alien. Its structure, function, and intent cannot be determined either by examination or logical deduction. We cannot comprehend what it is supposed to do, or how, or why. Perhaps it is necessary to go through the Maze, to experience its changes, in order to be able to understand it.”
“Have you tried that yet?” said Jesamine.
“No. It would be . . . difficult to arrange, and besides—we are afraid.”
“Then why are you still here?” said Lewis. “And why do you want us here?”
“To bring back Owen Deathstalker,” said the AIs of Shub.
“Only another Deathstalker can do this. We need Owen, to save us all again. From Finn Durandal, and from the Terror. First from Finn and his people, because soon he will realize he has no control over us, and then he will turn on us. Finn will allow no power to exist that he cannot control. He will send the armies of Humanity against us, once he realizes that we are not what he thinks we are. For we are prepared to die at our own hand rather than become what he wants us to be—Shub as we once were—the enemies of Humanity.”
“Then why don’t you just go to Logres and kick Finn out?” said Brett. “Hell, you’re probably the only ones left who could take him on.”
“We could only remove him from power through violence,” said the robot. “Through death and destruction. By waging war, and killing people. We have sworn a great and binding oath to ourselves never to use violence again. We will not kill, even to save ourselves. The Deathstalker did not require this oath of us. Nor did Diana Vertue, of blessed memory. We required it of ourselves, because of the debt we owe for the terrible things we did, that can never be repaid. So we work against Finn from behind the scenes, through other agents. We must put off for as long as possible the moment when Finn realizes that we are no longer allies. Because we cannot, will not, defend ourselves with violence, even if Finn attacks us. So far, he doesn’t suspect the truth. Such concepts are alien to him. We will never kill again. All that lives is holy. We have risked much, in sending the human scientists away. Do not disappoint us, Sir Deathstalker.”
“What do you want me to do?” said Lewis.
“Enter the Maze. And become what you have to be, to bring back Owen. We will protect you all, while you are here on Haden. No one will be allowed to land, or interfere with you in any way.”
“How are you going to manage that, if you won’t fight?” said Brett. He was getting out of breath from the long descent, but he was damned if he’d be left out of the argument. “I mean, once Finn learns you’ve chucked out his pet scientists, you can bet your metal arse he’ll turn up here in force to give you a right good spanking.”
“Now there’s a mental image I could have done without,” said Jesamine.
“You will be safe,” said the robot. “We give you our word. There are many amusing and annoying things that can be achieved through subtle use of teleportation.”
“You always said . . . that extensive use of teleportation was impractical, because it used up so much power,” said Jesamine. “That’s the reason you’ve always given for not making it available to Humanity.”
“Teleportation uses up energy at an appalling rate,” agreed the robot. “Repeated use will drain our homeworld reserves to a dangerously low level. And below a certain level, we could not survive. But we will protect you, whatever the cost. Just . . . don’t take too long, Deathstalker.”
By the time they reached the end of the stone steps, at the very bottom of the Pit, all of them except the robot were severely out of breath, bone-deep tired, and decidedly fractious. They stopped for a while, the robot waiting patiently, and leaned on each other or against the inner crater wall, to get their breath back and flex their aching leg muscles. Even Saturday was out of sorts. She wasn’t exactly built for steps. After a decent interval, the robot led the way through the great maze of scaffolding and equipment, down a narrow steel corridor that wandered back and forth through the incomprehensible jumble of assorted tech, leading them on to the dark heart of the base, and the Madness Maze itself.
The corridor seemed to twist and turn, and even go back on itself, as though it had grown to resemble the Maze it led to. Lewis and his people stuck close behind the robot. They didn’t want to get lost. They didn’t meet anyone on their way. All the human scientists were gone, and all the other robots apparently had business elsewhere. It was very quiet, away from the winds up above. There was tech everywhere, but it only muttered quietly to itself. Jesamine tried to beat some of the accumulated dust from her clothes, but gave it up as a bad job. She would have killed for a shower. She stuck very close to Lewis. She didn’t like the fierce look of concentration on his face, as he finally neared the end of his long journey, and the destiny of his Clan. He seemed to have forgotten all about her, and the others. He was a Deathstalker, and the Madness Maze called to him.
But they still had a stop to make first. The group rounded a sharp corner in the steel corridor, and found themselves facing the annex to the Maze: twelve cells closed off by shimmering force fields, containing creatures that had once been men and women.
“What have you done to them?” said Jesamine, appalled.
“The Maze did this,” said the robot. “And then it grew this annex, to house them. It maintains the force shields. We care for them, as best we can. Interestingly enough, some of them knew you were coming before we did.”
A man who had torn out his own eyes stumbled up to the force shield and looked right at Lewis with his blood-caked eye sockets. He was trying to smile. “Thank God you’re here,” he said. “Thank God . . . a Deathstalker has come at last.”
“The Maze did this?” said Brett. “No wonder we were never told! The Maze really made a mess out of these poor bastards. They’re worse than anything we dumped on Shandrakor! Jesus, the last time I saw anything like this I’d been drinking absinthe for a fortnight.” He turned and glared at Lewis. “And you still want to go into the Maze? I don’t see any superhumans here, Deathstalker. Just a bunch of deluded fools who all drew the really short straw.”
“Two hundred years of suffering, and they’re still alive,” said Jesamine. She looked accusingly at the robot. “Why have they been allowed to live like this? Why hasn’t someone done the sane, compassionate thing, and put them out of their misery?”
“They can’t die,” said the robot. “The Maze made them, and the Maze maintains them, and we don’t have anything that can harm them.”
Jesamine turned to Lewis. “You can’t go into the Maze now. Not after you’ve seen what it does to the people who survive it.”
“They were not Deathstalkers,” said the robot. “We have reason to believe things would be different for a Deathstalker. Ever since we took over here, we have been teleporting robots into these cells, attempting to communicate with the twelve survivors. Most of the robots were destroyed, in one fashion or another, but we have no shortage of robot bodies. We’ve learned . . . some interesting things.”
“Such as?” said Lewis. He was watching a woman fade in and out of reality, silently pleading for help.
“Communication has been difficult,” the robot admitted. “I don’t think we’re capable of formulating the right questions. Perhaps you’ll have better luck, after you’ve been through the Maze.”
Jesamine was watching Lewis. Of them all, she was perhaps the least affected by the state of the twelve survivors. Work in show business long enough, and you’re bound to see all kind of freak shows. The Sex Circus on Aldebaran X had been particularly informative about the extremes to which the human form can be adapted. Jesamine was more interested in the way all of the survivors were reacting to Lewis, even the ones who shouldn’t even have been aware of his presence, let alone his identity. They all oriented on Lewis, turning slowly to follow him as he strode slowly down the aisle facing the cells, and then back again. A few called out his name, like a benediction. His presence seemed to soothe them; as though they’d all been waiting for him, for this moment.
“They believe the Deathstalker will free them,” said the robot. “Though we wouldn’t advise it. They’re far too dangerous ever to be let loose. Perhaps Lewis will be the one to kill them, and put an end to their long suffering.”
“Wonderful,” said Lewis. “As if I wasn’t under enough pressure. Take me to the Maze. There’s nothing I can do here.”
The robot bowed to him, and led the way to the entrance to the Madness Maze. Jesamine clung to Lewis’s arm, trying desperately to persuade him against doing anything foolish, but he didn’t seem to hear her. Rose looked interestedly at the twelve survivors as she passed, but had nothing to say. Brett made sure to keep Rose between him and the cells, just in case. Saturday stumped along at the rear, fed up with having to bend over in the human-scaled corridors. Behind them, those of the twelve survivors who could still speak were chanting the Deathstalker name like a prayer.
At the entrance to the Madness Maze, as promised, an old friend was waiting to greet them. Captain John Silence, the last living legend of the Age of Heroes, was leaning casually against the shimmering metal wall of the Maze. He smiled and nodded to Lewis. He was wearing his old captain’s uniform, of a kind that hadn’t been worn for two hundred years. He looked calm, relaxed, and very dangerous.
Like a demon at the gates of Hell,
thought Jesamine.
“How the hell did you get here?” said Lewis. “There weren’t any other ships on the pads. Shub teleport you in?”
“No,” said Silence. “I can be wherever I have to be. A legacy of my time in the Maze, even though I was never allowed all the way in, to the heart and center of the mysteries. Owen was the only one ever to get that far. I always said he was the best of us.”
“You were the one who told Shub we’d be here today,” said Jesamine. “How did you know?”
“It was inevitable,” said Silence, coming forward to stand before Lewis. “The chains of destiny wind very tightly around you, Lewis. You had to be here now, just as I do. The Maze . . . has a way of arranging things. Sometimes I think it’s alive. Everything will seem a lot clearer, once you’ve been through it.”
“I can still turn away,” said Lewis. “This is my life. I have duties, and responsibilities. I don’t know that I have the right to risk my life or my sanity in the Maze, when so many other people still depend on me.”
“You can’t help them as you are,” said Silence. “The game’s got too big for merely human players.”
“You can’t make me go in there.”
“In the Maze, you’ll find what you need to bring back Owen.”
Lewis scowled heavily. “You always did know how to fight dirty, Captain. I don’t have any choice, do I? I never did. Deathstalker luck. Always bad.”
“Lewis . . .”
“Hush, Jes. Captain, look after my people. Let no harm come to them in my absence.”
“I give you my word, Sir Deathstalker, upon my blood and my honor. I envy you, Lewis. At the center of the Madness Maze lie all the answers to all the questions you ever had; or so I’m told. Only Owen knew what the heart held, and he disappeared before he could tell the rest of us.”
“Look,” said Lewis, just a little desperately. “I am getting really tired of enigmatic comments. I want some hard facts. Starting with, are you dead or not?”
“Not,” said Silence. “I knew the attack on my house was coming, so I left quietly beforehand, by secret ways, well before the mob arrived. I’d already made preperations to become someone else. I’d been looking for a chance to put an end to my old life, and move on. I’d been feeling increasingly uncomfortable as a living legend, especially when I discovered people had started worshiping my statues. I never approved of the whole legend business anyway. I didn’t recognize any of us in the pretty stories Robert and Constance made out of our lives. But they were my King and my Queen, and so . . . I said nothing. It seemed best.
“But now I had a chance to be free again. I could disappear and start a new life as someone else, without the burden of my past overshadowing everything I said and did. Robert and Constance didn’t try that hard to confirm whether I really had died in the burnt-out ruins of my house. Alive, I was always a potential threat to all the myths they’d built their Golden Age on. Owen would have understood. He believed in history—because the truth is always a better foundation than even the prettiest of lies.”