windows. Sessine felt both impressed and depressed.
He did not see or hear what hit him from behind, just glimpsed a searing light and felt the concussive blast.
He awoke in bed, alone, on what gave every appearance of being a fine spring morning.
He lay there for a second, then imagined himself to the summit of the fast-tower.
/He saw the first missile, crossing the curtain-wall to the west. He turned and saw the other, approaching from the east, level with him and approaching fast. He remembered the feeling he had had when he’d heard the shots inside the scree-car and ducked back in to see what was happening. He imagined the view from the middle of the inner bailey,
/then from a tower on the curtain-wall to the south,
/then from the north,
/then from the eastern gate complex,
/then from some low hills outside the castle altogether.
The whole edifice detonated, disappearing in a scattering series of explosions, flickering light, throwing stones and timbers high into the air, black amongst fire.
‘Sessine?’
He turned, and the image of his first wife was there, standing on the path behind him, as lovely as on the first day they had met. She never called me—
She was upon him with the strangle-wire before he could move; gripping him, trapping him with a strength no human had ever possessed.
He awoke in the bed, alone. What is this? What is going on? Who is—?
Light at the window, something—
Fool !
Then light everywhere.
He awoke in the bed.
‘Alandre,’ the young maid breathed, alongside him, reaching.
/He was on the deck of the clan yacht, at anchor one evening off Istanbul; the Bosporus glittered darkly beneath, the twin bridges arced above. His heart thudded. He looked quickly around. Nobody. He looked up. Something falling from the rail-bridge . . . he started to imagine - then light again, atomically bright, lighting up all the city . . .
He awoke.
‘Ala—’
/He was in bed, in his apartments in the clan Aerospace’s headquarters in the Atlantean Tower.
The doctor looked down at him, his face somehow familiar, his expression regretful. The young doctor fired the gun straight between Sessine’s eyes.
He awoke.
‘Al—’
/He was in the nursery of the clan’s Seattle stronghold. The nurse was above him; the knife came down on his mewls.
And something inside him screamed, Seven !
He awoke.
He was in a hotel room; it was small and tawdry-looking. The curtains drawn, the ceiling light on. He was sitting. His heart was hammering, his body covered with cold sweat. He cancelled the fake physical symptoms of his panic then started to imagine being somewhere else . . . but he was out of places to run, and as he did not know where he was, he suspected that here was as good a place as any to stay a while.
What had happened? What had been going on?
He stood up and went to the window, carefully lifting one corner of the curtains while staying behind the wall, half expecting the arrival of a hail of bullets or another missile the instant he betrayed his position.
He looked out onto a darkened town; a port within a huge, dim space all speckled with small lights. Dark waters lay in the distance beyond wharves and cranes. Spaced regularly in the shadows across the inky glints of waves he could just make out huge pillars, growing out of that broad, buried sea like impossibly perfect steep-cliffed islands and sprouting, spreading at their summits to meet a jet-black vaulted sky more remembered than seen.
He was still in Serehfa, then, underneath it, within the cistern level. The port was called Oubliette. The narrow street outside looked quiet. A few lights showed behind shades on the tall, narrow buildings opposite, and down in the port he could see ships tied against the piers, container cranes swinging slowly to and fro above them, and hints of movement within pools of dim yellow light on the wharves themselves.
He let the curtain fall back, then
He did not see or hear what hit him from behind, just glimpsed a searing light and felt the concussive blast.
He awoke in bed, alone, on what gave every appearance of being a fine spring morning.
He lay there for a second, then imagined himself to the summit of the fast-tower.
/He saw the first missile, crossing the curtain-wall to the west. He turned and saw the other, approaching from the east, level with him and approaching fast. He remembered the feeling he had had when he’d heard the shots inside the scree-car and ducked back in to see what was happening. He imagined the view from the middle of the inner bailey,
/then from a tower on the curtain-wall to the south,
/then from the north,
/then from the eastern gate complex,
/then from some low hills outside the castle altogether.
The whole edifice detonated, disappearing in a scattering series of explosions, flickering light, throwing stones and timbers high into the air, black amongst fire.
‘Sessine?’
He turned, and the image of his first wife was there, standing on the path behind him, as lovely as on the first day they had met. She never called me—
She was upon him with the strangle-wire before he could move; gripping him, trapping him with a strength no human had ever possessed.
He awoke in the bed, alone. What is this? What is going on? Who is—?
Light at the window, something—
Fool !
Then light everywhere.
He awoke in the bed.
‘Alandre,’ the young maid breathed, alongside him, reaching.
/He was on the deck of the clan yacht, at anchor one evening off Istanbul; the Bosporus glittered darkly beneath, the twin bridges arced above. His heart thudded. He looked quickly around. Nobody. He looked up. Something falling from the rail-bridge . . . he started to imagine - then light again, atomically bright, lighting up all the city . . .
He awoke.
‘Ala—’
/He was in bed, in his apartments in the clan Aerospace’s headquarters in the Atlantean Tower.
The doctor looked down at him, his face somehow familiar, his expression regretful. The young doctor fired the gun straight between Sessine’s eyes.
He awoke.
‘Al—’
/He was in the nursery of the clan’s Seattle stronghold. The nurse was above him; the knife came down on his mewls.
And something inside him screamed, Seven !
He awoke.
He was in a hotel room; it was small and tawdry-looking. The curtains drawn, the ceiling light on. He was sitting. His heart was hammering, his body covered with cold sweat. He cancelled the fake physical symptoms of his panic then started to imagine being somewhere else . . . but he was out of places to run, and as he did not know where he was, he suspected that here was as good a place as any to stay a while.
What had happened? What had been going on?
He stood up and went to the window, carefully lifting one corner of the curtains while staying behind the wall, half expecting the arrival of a hail of bullets or another missile the instant he betrayed his position.
He looked out onto a darkened town; a port within a huge, dim space all speckled with small lights. Dark waters lay in the distance beyond wharves and cranes. Spaced regularly in the shadows across the inky glints of waves he could just make out huge pillars, growing out of that broad, buried sea like impossibly perfect steep-cliffed islands and sprouting, spreading at their summits to meet a jet-black vaulted sky more remembered than seen.
He was still in Serehfa, then, underneath it, within the cistern level. The port was called Oubliette. The narrow street outside looked quiet. A few lights showed behind shades on the tall, narrow buildings opposite, and down in the port he could see ships tied against the piers, container cranes swinging slowly to and fro above them, and hints of movement within pools of dim yellow light on the wharves themselves.
He let the curtain fall back, then
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