Burning Bright

Jack Blue/JAFIERA ROSCHA sprawled gasping against the nearest stack of crates, his face drawn into a scowl of pain and anger equally mixed. Mijja Lyall/FERNESA crouched at his side, digging hurriedly through the much‑depleted medical kit. She found the injector at last, applied it to Blue’s forearm. The telekinetic swore under his breath, but a moment later, the pain began to ease from his forehead. Lord Faro/LACHACALLE and Ibelin Belfortune/HALLY VENTURA exchanged glances, and edged a little bit away from the others, where they could exchange whispers unheard.

“What about the contact?” Desir of Harmsway/KAZIO BELEDIN said. “Where is it, Avellar?”

Avellar/AMBIDEXTER looked back at him for a moment, gave a slow, crooked smile. “Something’s gone wrong, obviously. But unless you want to go back…” He let his voice trail off in a mocking invitation, and Harmsway looked away, scowling. Avellar’s smile widened slightly, and he moved to stand beside Jack Blue. “How is it?”

Blue shrugged, made a so‑so gesture with one hand. “I’ll live.” His voice sounded better, and Avellar nodded.

“Maybe he’s losing weight,” Harmsway said, too sweetly.

Blue frowned, and a cracked piece of the floor tiling tore itself loose and flung itself at Harmsway’s face. Avellar plucked it out of the air before it could hit anything, dropped it onto the flooring at Blue’s feet. There was blood on the tile, from where the sharp edges had cut his hand, but Avellar ignored it.

“Try that again,” he said, almost conversationally, “and I’ll leave you.” He was looking at Blue, but Harmsway stiffened.

“Not me, surely,” he said, his voice provocative. “If you leave me here, Royal, all this will have been for nothing.”

“All what?” Avellar said, softly. “All this? Coming here, risking my life, pla

In spite of himself, Harmsway glanced toward the cargo door, only forty meters away across the width of the warehouse. It was even open, and he could feel that the last barrier was sealed only with a palm lock, the kind of thing he could open in his sleep… if he could reach it. And beyond that hatch were Avellar’s people, loyal only to Avellar. His lips thi

Avellar nodded. “The ship’s mine,” he said. “Without me, none of you will get aboard. Hell, without me, none of you would have gotten this far.”

“Without you,” Gallio Hazard said, “some of us wouldn’t be here at all.”

“Touche,” Avellar said. “But you shouldn’t‘ve left my service, Gallio.”

“Avellar.” Lyall’s voice was suddenly sharp with fear, and Avellar turned to face her. “They’ve brought in a hunter,” Lyall said. “And the Baron’s with him.”

“How close?” Harmsway demanded, and Lyall shook her head.

“I can’t tell. There’s–he’s shielded.”

“No one use any psi,” Avellar said. The others murmured agreement, and he looked at Africa. “Is it finished, Galan?”

Africa shrugged his good shoulder. “I’ve got the co

Avellar nodded, and looked at Belfortune. “That leaves you, Bel.”

Faro said, “Let him be.”

Avellar ignored him. “Bel–”

“Avellar,” Lyall said again, real horror in her voice. “He’s found us.”

“What?” Harmsway’s voice scaled up in surprise. “Damn you, Royal–”

“Shut up,” Avellar said, and was obeyed. “Belfortune. Can you stop the hunter?”

Belfortune shook his head. “I have to be close to him, I can’t just reach out and take his power. It’s not that easy–”

“All right,” Avellar said, his voice gentle but firm, and Belfortune was silent. Faro laid a hand on his shoulder, then reached for his pistol.

“Well, Desir,” Avellar said, “it’s up to you and me.”

Harmsway shook his head sharply, and Hazard said, “The last time, you nearly killed him.”

Avellar ignored him. “If we don’t work together, we’ll never get out of here. You and I will both die on this wretched planet. Do you really want that, just to spite me? Or do you just enjoy it too much?”

“Yes,” Harmsway said, “I can admit it. You’re too strong for me, you and your crazy clone‑sibs, and I like it too much.”

“Would you rather be dead?” Avellar asked.

“Desir, don’t,” Hazard said.

Harmsway ignored him. “No, damn you. All right. I’ll do it.”

Avellar held out his hands, carefully not smiling, and Harmsway took them with only the slightest hesitation. There was a little silence, and then a kind of darkness seemed to gather around them. Shapes moved in the darkness, shapes that were Avellar, shapes that wore Avellar’s face and a woman’s body. Avellar closed his eyes, felt his power returning with Harmsway’s presence, Harmsway’s raw electrokinesis bridging the holes left by the deaths of half the clone. He could sense the others’ presence, too: Quarta in her cell, gibbering in darkness; Secunda caught in midstride, dragged away from herself by his insistent demands; Tertius ever silent, great eyes staring at nothing. He pulled them to him, made their power his own, built a ladder with it that carried him out of the prison of his body and let him look down on the warehouse as if from a great height. He saw the world in black and white, the figures of his party and of the Baron’s men clustered at the doorway pale as ghosts against the dark walls and shadows that were the piled crates. The Baron’s group had stopped, huddling together around a grounded airsled. The hunter smells something he doesn’t recognize, Avellar thought, and laughed silently. No, you wouldn’t recognize me. He spun again, looking down from his illusory height for a solution, saw Harmsway on his knees, head bowed with strain, still clinging to his hands. Harmsway was weaker than he’d realized; Avellar allowed himself to look farther afield, saw Jack Blue now standing at Lyall’s side.

Blue, he said, and felt the word fall for what seemed an eternity before it struck air and was heard. “Give me your hand.”

He forced his body to free one hand from Harmsway’s grip, held it out to Blue. The telekinetic took it, reluctantly, and Avellar felt the other’s power join his own. He let himself rise back up the ladder, dragging Blue’s talent with him, hung for a moment beneath the rafters, looking at the piles of crates through the lens of Blue’s talent. Then, almost lazily, he reached out–his hand, Blue’s telekinesis, moving as one, Harmsway still bridging the gaps that let him draw on his clone‑sibs, his other selves–and tipped the first row of crates onto the Baron’s men. He heard screams–close at hand, and more distant, the noise reaching his physical body half a heartbeat later–but he closed his mind, searching for the right point. Blue’s power was fading, stuttering like an underfueled engine, but he ignored it, and toppled a second set of shelves, blocking any advance. Then he let himself slide back down the ladder, feeling it dissolve behind him as he fell, until he was back in his own body, on his knees, Jack Blue’s hand cold in his own. Harmsway was crumpled on the warped tiles, breathing in harsh gasps, his forehead against the floor. Blue lay open eyed, unmoving, his face red and mottled. Lyall crouched beside him, hand on his wrist, and shook her head as Avellar looked at her.

“He’s dead.”

Belfortune laughed softly. “So that’s how the great Avellar’s power works. You’re no more than I am, nothing more than a vampire. At least I don’t use the power I take.”

“You just dine on it,” Hazard said.

Faro said, “This is why I won’t support you, Avellar. No one who can do that should be emperor.”

“But that’s just it,” Avellar said. He reached down almost absently, lifted Harmsway so that the electrokinetic’s head rested on his lap. “This power is exactly why I should be emperor. I’m psi, yes, but it’s unlimited in type, because I can draw on all of it. But only if you let me. I can’t coerce, I can only take what’s given. Jack gave me what he had, he let me use him up, to save the rest of us. He couldn’t‘ve done it alone, and I knew how to use what he gave me. If a psi is going to be emperor–and you know that’s inevitable, there’s no one left who isn’t psi–then it should be me, because I can’t do anything alone, and without consent.”