To Die In Italbar

A painful wailing filled his head. Then it was gone, she was gone, and finally so was he.

"Stop!"

Malacar turned.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Nothing, now," she said. "But we are finished here. It is time to return to the vessel. We are leaving."

"What are you talking about? What is wrong?"

Jackara smiled.

"Nothing," she repeated. "Nothing, now."

As he regarded her, however, he realized that something _had_ changed. It took him several moments to sort his impressions. The first thing that struck him was her relaxed appearance. It occurred to him that he had never seen J ackara's features pleasantly animated, and that her posture, her entire bearing, had been stiff, tense, semi-military up until then. Her voice, too, was altered. In addition to having grown softer, throatier, it now possessed an unmistakable resonance of command, silken, seamless, resilient.

Still searching for the proper question, he said, simply, "I do not understand."

"Of course not," she said. "But you see, there is no reason to look further. That which you seek is here. The man von Hymack is useless to you now, for I have found me a better place. I like Jackara--her body, her simple passion--and I shall remain with her. Together now, we shall accomplish all that you desire. And more. So much more. You shall have your plagues, your deaths. You shall see the ultimate disease, life, healed by that which shall come to pass. Let us return to the vessel now and be borne to a populous place. By the time that we reach it, I will be ready. You will witness a spectacle which will satisfy even a passion such as yours. And this will only be the begi

"Jackara! I have no time for jokes! I--"

"I am not joking," she said softly, moving nearer to him, raising her hand to his face.

She ran her fingertips up his cheek, bringing them to rest upon his temple. He was paralyzed then by the vision of carnage that swept through his mind. The dead, the dying were everywhere. The symptoms of disease after disease flashed before him, displayed on bodies without number. He saw entire planets rolling in the grip of epidemics, saw worlds stark and barren, emptied of life, their streets, homes, buildings, dead fields filled with corpses, bodies awash in their harbors, choking gutters and streams, bloated, decomposing. All ages and sexes were so strewn, like the aftermath of a killer storm.

He grew ill.

"My God!" he finally gasped. "What are you?"

"You have seen what you have seen, and still you do not know?"

He backed away.

"There is something u

"How fortunate you are," she told him. "And I also. Your means are vastly superior to those of my previous acolyte, and we have common goals--"

"How did you come to invade the person of Jackara?"

"Your servant Shjnd was linked with her mind when I encountered her. She was preferable to the man I knew. I came over. It is good to have this sex again."

_Shi nd! Shind!_ he called. _Where are you? What has happened?_

"Your servants are unwell," she said. "But there is no need for them any longer. In fact, they must be left behind. Especially the man Morwin. Come! We will return to the ship."

But faintly, very faintly, like a dog scratching at a door, Shind touched his mind.

... _Right ... Sandow--was right... I have seen a mind -- beyond comprehension... Destroy--her_. .

Still shaken, Malacar fumbled at his holster ...

"Pity," she said. "It could have been pleasant. But I can go it alone now--and I fear that I must."

... And knew that he would be too late, for Jackara's gun was already in the hand of the stranger.

Rags of consciousness raised by a black tide, dropped, raised again. Streamers now, farther aloft. Then down. Up ...

Morwin's eyes fell upon the pistol.

Even before he realized who he was, his hand groped for the gun, seized it. The cold congruence of palm and curved metal butt was security, comfort.

Blinking, he saw his way back into existence, followed it, lifted his head.

_Shind? Where are you?_

But Shind did not reply, was not to be seen.

Turning, he regarded the prostrate form of the man, perhaps twenty paces distant. There was blood upon him.

He got to his feet and moved in that direction.

The man was breathing. His head was turned away from Morwin, his right arm flung grotesquely to the side, the hand twitching.

Morwin stood over him a moment, then circled, knelt and stared into his face. The eyes were open but unfocused.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

The man exhaled sharply, winced. A light came into his eyes and they moved, met with Morwin's own. His face was pocked, creased, sallow, dotted with raw sores.

"I hear you," he said softly.

Morwin shifted his grip on the pistol.

"Are you Heidel von Hymack?" he asked him. "Are you the man called H?"

"I am Heidel von Hymack."

"But are you H?"

The man did not answer immediately. He sighed, then coughed. Morwin glanced at his wounds. He appeared to have been hit in the right shoulder and arm.

"I--I have been sick," he finally said. Then he chuckled, a series of dry croaks. "... Now I feel fine."

"You want some water?"

"Yes!"

Morwin rehoistered his gun, unstoppered his canteen, carefully raised the man's head and trickled water into his mouth. The man drank half the canteen before he gagged and drew away.

"Why didn't you say you were thirsty?"

The other glanced at the gun, smiled faintly, shrugged his good shoulder.

"Thought you might not want to waste it."

Morwin put away the canteen.

"Well? Are you H?" he said.

"What difference does an initial make? I was the plaguebearer."

"You have been aware of this fact all along?"

"Yes."

"Do you hate people that much? Or is it that you just don't give a damn?"

"Neither one," he said. "Go ahead and shoot me if you want."

"Why did you let it happen?"

"It does not matter now. She is gone. It is over. Go ahead."

He sat up, still smiling.

"You act as if you want me to kill you."

"What are you waiting for?"

Morwin chewed his lip.

"You know I'm the man who shot you--" he began.

Heidel von Hymack knit his brows and turned his head slowly, regarding his body.

"I--I did not realize I had been shot," he said. "Yes ... Yes, I can see now. And I feel it ..."

"What did you think happened to you?"

"I lost--something. Something in my mind. It is gone now, and I feel as I have not felt in many years. The shock of separation, the feeling of relief-- I was--distracted."

"How? What was it that occurred?"

"I am not certain. One moment this thing was with me, and then I felt the presence of another as well ... Then-- everything departed ... When I awakened you were here."

"What thing?"

"You would not understand. I don't myself, really."

"Does it involve a blue woman--like, a goddess?"

Heidel von Hymack looked away.

"Yes," he said. Then he clutched at his shoulder.

"I'd better do something about your wounds."

Heidel allowed him to bind his arm and shoulder. He accepted more water.

"Why did you shoot me?" he finally said.

"It was more reflex than anything else. The--thing you lost--scared the hell out of me."

"You actually saw her?"

"Yes. With the help of a telepath."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. I am afraid she was hurt."

"Hadn't you better find out? You can leave me. I can't go far. Not that it matters now."

"I suppose I should," he said. _Shind! Damn it! Where are you? Do you need help?_

_Stay_, came a weak reply. _Stay there. I will be all right. I need only to rest... awhile_ ...