The Lyhhrt went home and decontaminated until the grit and filth of other worlds washed out of him in waters of welcome salt and bitterness. He gave his people one of those mind-crimping reports that Lyhhrt specialize in, and told them what he had told Ned. Then immersed himself in long years of dreaming.
Eventually the world Lyhhr fulfilled all promises. They established trades workshops for the O'e on five worlds, and for Ned they bought Waxers Works, renovated it until it esthetically matched the ancient grotto it had been built inside, and gave it to him. Ned and Zella hired Knuck and Ham, and found customers among the embassies who enjoyed working out in a safe place that looked dangerous.
The world Lyhhr sent a delegation of five, a good working unit, to Khagodis, apologizing for their murderous extremists and asking for a resumption of trade ⦠but that was deeper into the future.
And gradually the universe got used to existing without Zamos.
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Sometimes in his mind's eye just before he falls asleep with his arm around Zella, Ned sees Spartakos as he must have looked when the Lyhhrt first created him, splendid in his gleaming chromium and gold, his iridium fingertips and pearl nails, burning with light like the sun.
He has never seen Spartakos so newly made, and wonders if the Lyhhrt has given him this vision.
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Hasso is full of joy, Skerow waits beside him and he feels her joy redoubling his own, as the child comes forward with her young thoughts tinkling like a ring of bells, just learning to speak in the difficult way Khagodi do.
And he stoops to take her hand:
:We are so very pleased to meet you, dems'l!:
While Dritta smiles from above.
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The Lyhhrt will never again reach out to find an Other, but when dreams of fire and blood threaten to pull his spirit down into the demonic Anti-Force he sends for his workshell, encases himself to rise above the swamp and succulent growth of his world, and through his adamant eyes he watches the sundogs, the halos and at night the stars.