Dominion by John Connolly Page A

looked puzzled at this latest development.
    â€œFara?” he asked her. “Why?”
    â€œIt was a name that we once knew.”
    The male regarded her curiously. “Yes,” he said. “It was.”
    He turned back to Paul.
    â€œKal,” he said, indicating himself. “That too is a name we once knew.”
    â€œKal,” Paul repeated. “I am Paul Kerr.”
    â€œYou are the leader.” It was a statement, not a question.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWe saw you.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œOn a planet of sand and stone.”
    A system map appeared in the air before them. Paul saw a wormhole, and a series of moons and planets. He recognized Torma, where all this had begun: the attack on their ship, the deaths of their comrades, and the fleeing and fighting that had led them at last to the Derith wormhole. The image changed, and Paul saw a Brigade shuttle hovering against the Tormal landscape. The image was magnified, over and over, until Paul could make out the silhouette of his brother at the controls, and glimpsed a ghost of himself standing beside a window, staring out. If the image was a photograph, he was staring directly at the camera.
    â€œThat rock,” he said. “It was covered in symbols.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI sensed something there.”
    â€œYou sensed us.”
    â€œBut it was just a rock.”
    â€œNo, it was much more than that. It was a sentinel.”
    â€œYou left it there?”
    â€œLong ago. We left many like it.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œTo watch. To warn.”
    â€œOf what?”
    Kal did not answer. Instead, he pointed to the observation window, and the Corps ship that hung trapped beyond it.
    â€œThe Illyri?” said Paul.
    â€œThe contamination.”
    â€œThe Others,” said Syl. “That’s what he means.”
    â€œOthers?” said Fara.
    Syl could still not quite bring herself to look at the female form, as though she did not have faith in her abilities to keep her feelings under control.
    â€œThat’s what we call them,” Syl mumbled. “Those—”
    But Fara interrupted her.
    â€œDoes this appearance disturb you?” she asked.
    â€œA little,” said Syl.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œYou look like someone who”—Syl tried to find the right words, but couldn’t—“was— is —important to me.”
    â€œYour mother.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWe—no, that should be I— I thought you would be pleased,” said Fara. “I thought you would be reassured. I felt your love for her.”
    â€œShe died when I was very young,” said Syl. “I have no memory of how she looked, except for pictures. When you appeared, you were so much like her, or so much like how I imagined she might have been.”
    Syl seemed to be talking more to herself than to Fara, or perhaps even to the ghost of a dead mother.
    â€œI can change,” said Fara. “I do not wish you to be distressed.”
    Syl raised her eyes from the table and held Fara’s gaze, although perhaps it wasn’t a gaze, for the form was an organic composite. It had no need of the five senses, for it was a sense all its own.
    â€œNo,” said Syl. “I don’t want you to change.”
    Thula caught Paul’s eye. Not good , his expression said. Not good at all.
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    Back on the Nomad , Steven, Rizzo, and Alis were growing increasingly concerned. They had lost communication with Paul and the others from the moment that the docking bridge disengaged from their ship, and since then they had been watching what appeared to be signs of activity in the bay around them. The lights embedded in the fleshy walls of the ship had begun to form particular recurring patterns. At first, Steven thought that it might have been a trick of his imagination, caused by staring out of the cockpit window for too long, but Alis had picked up on