Zelazny, Roger - Novel 07 (24 page)

 
          
 
What makes you feel you have anything to
offer?

 
          
 
You know that I am special.

 
          
 
You feel that is enough — being special?

 
          
 
I guess that is for him to decide.

 
          
 
It is good that you wish to help. Supposing he
asked of you what he asked of Van Duyn?

 
          
 
I do not know. It would be a waste.

 
          
 
Perhaps. Whatever, I will help you in your
search. So will this man.

 
          
 
How?

 
          
 
Later, Dennis. Later. All in good time. We had
best get to your home now.

 
          
 
"You are heading north, Quick?" she
asked.

 
          
 
"
Denver
, to spend a few days with some friends.**

 
          
 
"Let me know where I can get in touch
with you, all right? There is an enterprise in which you may be useful.'*

 
          
 
"Sure," he said, and he fished a
piece of paper from his pocket, scrawled something on it, passed it to her.
"I'll be at the first one till Tuesday, the next one afterward."

 
          
 
"Very good. Thank you. You may hear from
me before too long. Have a nice trip."

 
          
 
"Thanks. So long."

 
          
 
"Goodbye."

 
          
 
He headed back down toward the road. We went
the other way.

 
          
 
We walked back to where
Lydia
's car was parked on a side road. From there
we drove on home, announcing that
Lydia
had encountered me on my morning hike. My
mother prepared breakfast, and the morning was spent in conversation. After
lunch,
Lydia
examined me at some length. I tried blocking in some areas, just to see
what the result would be. She caught me on all of them.

 
          
 
Excellent, she told me after a long while. You
have exceeded my expectations.

 
          
 
In what way?

 
          
 
I mean that you have pulled through
beautifully.

 
          
 
That is not what you mean. You are masking some-thing.

 
          
 
You are good. Congratulations.

 
          
 
That is not an answer.

 
          
 
Let us say then that it was really a form of
directive therapy in which we engaged.

 
          
 
There was not really that much of me to
direct.

 
          
 
I did not say that it was easy.

 
          
 
Did you influence the development of my
temporo-pathic ability?

 
          
 
No, but I might have influenced the kinds of
choices you would make if you did succeed in reaching back after other minds in
times gone by.

 
          
 
Why?

 
          
 
I only said "might."

 
          
 
You did not come back just to play games with
me, did you?

 
          
 
No. You will have your answers in good time.

 
          
 
Where does Quick figure in all this?

 
          
 
He did some work for me once.

 
          
 
Is there anything at all that you feel like
telling me?

 
          
 
Yes, but you are not letting me. You are
asking all the wrong questions.

 
          
 
What are the right ones?

 
          
 
I said that I would help you in your search.
You said that you want to find the dark man. Had you asked me, I could have
told you that he is still living. Had you asked me where, I could have told you
that you will find him in
East Africa
.

 
          
 
You know him?

 
          
 
Yes, I know him.

 
          
 
I have searched, but I found no trace. . . .

 
          
 
You will not find him unless he chooses to be
found.

 
          
 
Why is this?

 
          
 
His is a cautious way of life.

 
          
 
Yes, I gathered that they seek him in
particular.

 
          
 
They may seek you now, also.

 
          
 
Why?

 
          
 
You have been broadcasting your presence ever
since your return. They are suspicious of concentrations of power in the hands
of a single individual. They must convince themselves it is harmless, tame it,
turn it or destroy it.

 
          
 
Then I am in danger, even now?

 
          
 
It is possible. This is the reason I came so
soon. You are firm in your decision?

 
          
 
I am.

 
          
 
Then we must leave as soon as possible. The
longer we delay the less your chance of reaching your goal. They have human
agents as well as mechanical devices.

 
          
 
Are the enemies TP, also?

 
          
 
That, or something like it. They have their
ways of knowing things.

 
          
 
How shall we go about the whole business?

 
          
 
I have already obtained travel papers in your
name. This evening we shall discuss with you mother your desire to see more of
the world now that you are adjusted to this much of it. I will second the idea
as a therapeutically sound thing. I believe that I can persuade her.

 
          
 
Supposing she wants to come along?

 
          
 
This possibility has been considered.
Fortunately, her contacts with your father since your return seem to be leading
them toward a reconciliation. I believe they are going to discuss the matter
this evening. Should this come to pass, they might well appreciate your absence
on a short trip.

 
          
 
How can you know all these things?

 
          
 
As a TP and a personal friend —

 
          
 
No! That is too much to ask me to believe.

 
          
 
What, then, would you believe?

 
          
 
The only alternative that presents itself. You
are devious,
Lydia
. I know that now, from my own case, from your plans for handling these
things, from your acquaintanceship with a COE troubleshooter. I am forced to
entertain the possibility that you possess considerable means for manipulating
people and situations, that you are somehow responsible for my parents' breakup
and their coming reconciliation, for my transfer to the moon — for the entire
course my condition has taken. I suddenly look upon you as the architect of my existence.

 
          
 
Ridiculous!

 
          
 
Call it whatever you want. That is how I feel
about it.

 
          
 
Then believe whatever you want. Does it affect
your plans?

 
          
 
No. I am still going. I have to.

 
          
 
Good. Then the rest does not matter.

 
          
 
But it does. You see, I am not going to
forget. If I live a few more years I am going to be even stronger than I am
now. If I ever discover that you caused my parents needless pain, I want you to
know that I am not going to forget.

 
          
 
She lowered her head.

 
          
 
So be it then.

 
          
 
And things worked out pretty much as
Lydia
had said. Dad called and wanted to come
out. To see me, he said. Mother said okay, and he arrived the next day. I
quickly saw that
Lydia
had been right. They hit things off and were talking friendly again
right from the start. He was happy enough to see me, very happy. We had several
long talks and even went walking together a few times. But it was plain that he
had come back for more than that.

 
          
 
It began to occur to me about then that
perhaps I had been too hard on
Lydia
. Common decency forbade my trying to probe
my parents' thoughts at that time, but I suddenly realized that the strain of
my prolonged condition must have been pretty hard on them, particularly on Dad.
I may well have contributed to the initial breakup, just as my recovery might
have served as catalyst to the reconciliation. It had been insensitive of me
not to have realized this earlier. It began to seem possible that, though I
still felt
Lydia
to be a manipulator, she had in this one respect merely capitalized on
something already present, rather than creating the entire situation. It left
her no less culpable, if she had somehow provided the necessary pushes at
various points, but it softened the picture somewhat, if only through the
mitigating agency of my own newfound guilt feelings.

 
          
 
And these feelings made me anxious to be under
way, as anxious perhaps as my parents were for some time alone together. At
least, they bought
Lydia
's endorsement of my request for a vacation,
seeing that I would be accompanied by herself and a male nurse of her
acquaintance.

 
          
 
"It's good to have you back, son."

 
          
 
It did not seem so ironic later that these
were the last words my father said to me as
Lydia
and I boarded the flier that was to take us
to
Albuquerque
. After the talks we had had I came to
realize that my recovery was a source of pride to him—the fact that I had made
it through a rough piece of existence— possibly even greater than his pleasure
in knowing that my ability transcended any other on record. Mine was a sadder
feeling than I had thought it would be, at another leave-taking this soon after
my return. I waved to them as we rose and did not let down my shield till we
reached the town.