Mercadian Masques

Chapter 13

Sisay staggered onto a blood-spattered deck. She hadn't time to see whom she fought-there were only pearly tridents and lashing scales-and then she was killing them.

The cutlass she had snatched below decks slashed down. It cut kelplike hair and clove a shoulder beneath. In fountaining gore, the beast crumpled. Sisay strode over it and caught a jabbing trident. She flung the iridescent prongs to the deck, where they stuck. Sisay's cutlass buried itself in a belly of scales and gutted the creature. It spilled messily at her feet, a net disgorging fish.

Another trident lanced in above the dead creature. Its twisted tines jabbed deeply into Sisay's side.

With a cry, she fell back, slipping on gore. She crashed down atop the two creatures she had slain. Her killer-that's what this scale-faced beast was-rammed the trident deeper. Sisay struggled, writhing back and forth on the impaling spikes. A hot gush came from her side, and she slumped.

The creature's fierce face changed not a whit. It hauled its trident back and spun to attack another crew member.

Sisay lay dying among the dead. She clutched the three ragged holes in her side but otherwise could not move.

The bloody battle all around became a dreamy thing… a masked dance. These fish creatures… they were beautiful in their clamshell armor and abalone masks… Green and gold, orange and red, they danced… What bright and flashing weapons they bore! The Rishadan crew-they were beautiful too. Tall, slim, bronze-skinned… Their cutlasses flashed in the dying evening. The players circled, fish and flesh. Steel joining them. Where it bridged the races, one would fall in red singing… How alike they were, scale and skin, when they bled and died. How alike were Sisay and the fish corpses that pillowed her…

She was death dreaming, she knew. This was the delirium of dying.

Amid the chorus of screams and the circling dance, there came a surreal figure. A beast as large as a whale vaulted onto the deck and clawed its way to the center of the fight. Warriors fell back in fear. The huge beast raised its fangy head and flung back green hair.

Stranger still-tangled amid that hair was a woman. She had ridden upon the beast's shoulders and now stood there streaming. She spoke to the stilled warriors. "Children of Ramos, fight no longer!"

It was Orim. Her voice was strained from the fist of the deep, and she was sodden to the bone, but it was she. In the tongue of the Cho-Arrim, she repeated the words. The vast beast beneath her roared something in kind.

The last tridents and cutlasses ceased their dance in air.

"We are not killers, but kin. The harpoon stroke that began this fight was given in error, and the second in terror. But those wounds are healed now. Already, too many of us lie dead from those absent strokes. Let no more die-"

Sisay smiled. This was not just a death dream. Orim and her Cho-Arrim magic had made allies of enemies. Even now, merfolk stripped feral masks from their very human faces. Their vast and scaly tails divided and reshaped into slender and very human legs. Where monsters had fought moments before stood only more humans.

This was not just a death dream, no-but it was a death… Sisay's death.

The last thing she saw in the twilight of her mind was Orim's face. The healer must have finished her speech, secured her alliance, for she had climbed from the beast's shoulder and traversed the deck of dead to kneel there beside her friend.

"Good-bye… Orim…"

"You cannot go," Orim replied firmly. "Not yet." Her hands settled on Sisay's side, and warm, silver, healing fire awoke.

Ever since she was a little girl, Hanna had had an intense dislike of water. Baths had been traumatic events, punctuated with shrieks and wails. As she grew older, she resisted all attempts to teach her to swim, and even, when possible, stayed away from the beaches and bluffs that bounded the shores of her native isle of Tolaria. Aboard Weatherlight, she had, to an extent, overcome this fear. Though, she felt herself fortunate the ship sailed through air rather than water.

Standing in the main street of Saprazzo, she was happy to be on dry land-or what seemed to be dry land. The city was built within a half-submerged volcanic caldera. A semicircle of basalt mountains ringed one half of the metropolis, and a thick, stone seawall ringed the other half. Together, mountain and wall kept the sea out. Like other arriving ships, Facade had entered a channel bored through the mountainside and progressed down a series of locks to the deep harbor at the center of Saprazzo. Crews and cargoes were off-loaded there, hundreds of feet below sea level. Though the streets of the upper city were dry, they were below sea level, and every airfilled building had its foundations in deep waters. One could walk the streets above or swim the streets below. Hanna stood on dry land, yes, but it was dry land poised atop-and beneathever-present water.

It was not a great comfort for a woman with hydrophobia.

She looked out at the shimmering city. Saprazzo was a vast inverted cone extending down into the caldera. Buildings and streets formed concentric rings in their descent toward the docks and the bay. Terraced houses in polished stones overlooked the central cone. A few of these dwellings were grand and dignified, with elaborate carvings and designs over the doors. Most were simple, with trailing plants hung over the pediments. These plants often bore bright blossoms or strangely shaped fruits. It would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast to the dry, dusty streets of Mercadia or the narrow, fishy lanes of Rishada.

Along the streets moved Saprazzans. They seemed completely at home on land or in water. From the docks the navigator had beheld groups of them sporting cheerfully among the waves. Most Saprazzans looked similar, having light blue skin and thick, flowing blue hair. The women wore their hair in cascades down their backs, save when they bound it up above the nape of the neck with exquisite silver filigrees. Saprazzan hands and feet were slightly webbed between fingers and toes, and about their necks was a suggestion of gills. They breathed water and air with equal ease and could transform their legs into fins. The Saprazzans who had attacked Facade in aquatic form had transformed into terrestrial bodies at the end of the battle, and stayed that way, tending the wounded and conducting rites for the dead. These same folk now walked with Hanna, Orim, Sisay, and the Mercadian contingent down a winding avenue in the heart of the city.

Hanna found herself stopping now and again to breathe the unusual air, damp and rich at the city's center. She felt as if she were inhaling an atmosphere that had somehow become liquid.

The broad pavement along which they made their way was intersected in places by little waterfalls that descended in a series of cascades from level to level. Hanna bent down to taste the water of one, and was surprised to find it fresh and pure. She straightened and caught one of the Saprazzans watching her. He smiled and said something.

Orim moved to her side. "He says these are the source of drinking water for the people here," the Samite healer said. She herself appeared to be more at ease than at any time since she had rejoined Weatherlight's crew. Her dark, curious eyes took in every sight as they passed along the street.

Sisay, fully healed by Cho-Arrim and Saprazzan magic, looked happily intrigued as well. Hanna was glad for her friends. Their ease comforted her.

The lead Saprazzan turned into a broad doorway set with seashells. He stood to one side, gesturing to the visitors.

The Mercadians, who had been hanging back with expressions of disgust, shouldered past Sisay and Hanna. The women bit their tongues, let the Mercadians enter, and then followed.

The ambassadorial corps found themselves in a broad, descending hallway. The passage was lit by some means undetectable at first glance, and the walls were studded with shells. The hall ended in a pair of impressive double doors that the Saprazzans swung open, revealing a chamber beyond.

It was a large room, wide and tall. Its walls were adorned with shells and shapes of sea creatures hewn from the living rock. Most impressive though, and what took away the breath of the visitors, was the enormous window, fully fifty feet high. It stretched up and opened on an underwater vista of breathtaking beauty.

Outside the window teemed living coral beds that moved and swirled in the currents. Within their folds, small fish darted and swooped. Plants created a green fringe that swayed ponderously in the water. In the bay beyond, great schools of fish leaped into view and then swam away. A school of flying fish darted past, propelling themselves swiftly with their broad, winglike fins. Occasionally, stranger sea creatures appeared, undulating silently by the window as if observing the scene within.

As a child Hanna had seen the little fish her father kept in a bowl in his laboratory. Standing here, she began to appreciate the fish's point of view.

From a corner of the room, a woman came to greet them, also dressed in glittering blue robes. Though there was nothing to indicate her office, Hanna felt sure that here was the city's leader. Her face was lined, and silver streaked her hair, but her step was that of a young girl.

She stood before them, examining each member of the delegation. When she greeted the native Mercadians, her face was expressionless. She came next to Sisay, Hanna, and Orim, and a look of wonder appeared in her eyes. The woman spoke, and Orim translated haltingly, "I am the Grand Vizier of Saprazzo. I greet you, in the name of my people." She bowed deeply.

Sisay, Hanna, and Orim returned the gesture. The Mercadians only dipped their heads mildly.

The vizier continued, with Orim translating, "You claim to come from Mercadia, but my folk say you know Cho-Arrim magic. To me, you seem neither Mercadian nor Cho-Arrim."

Sisay replied, "We are not native to Mercadia, but we speak with the authority of the chief magistrate. Nor are we native to the Cho-Arrim, but are friends of theirs."

The Saprazzan looked at her curiously as Orim translated. Then she said, "It is unusual for the Mercadians to allow women to speak for them. They have certain unaccountableeccentricities."

Sisay smiled slightly. "1 agree. But they've allowed it this time," she said.

The Saprazzan leader seemed momentarily perplexed, then smiled and touched Sisay's hand gently. Her eyes closed, and she seemed to enter a mild trance for a few seconds.

Sisay looked at her curiously, and then with amazement. She felt she had received a sudden shock.

The Saprazzan leader broke her connection and stepped back a pace. Her smile broadened, and she held up a hand, palm outward in greeting. In perfect Dominarian, she said, "I am glad. For too long women among the Mercadians have not spoken with us. I am pleased to have the opportunity to confer with one."

The others stared at her in amazement. Sisay's breath was coming hard, as if she had been running in some great race.

The vizier's expression changed to one of concern, and she said, "Please, sit down. I am sorry if I have caused you discomfort. Yet it seemed to me best that we be able to speak frankly, without interference, and without misunderstanding.

"You, my sister-" the Saprazzan leader turned to Orim- "you have a strong, familiar soul." She stared intensely into the Samite's eyes, then looked away to the Mercadian nobles. She gestured to them and said something in Mercadian that sounded placating.

The nobles, with what appeared to Hanna to be very bad grace, seated themselves on the chairs that were provided, carefully placing their backs to the window and its vast seascape.

The Saprazzan leader touched a bell that stood on a rack to one side of the chamber. Amid sweet chiming, she said to Sisay, "You have had a long journey hither. I have instructed chambers to be prepared for you and for your friends."

The captain nodded. "Thank you." "We shall begin our discussions tomorrow. Meanwhile you and your companions are free to make your way about the city. If you like, I shall send some of my people with you to guide you and answer your questions." "Your offer is most kind."

From a hidden recess a servant entered, bearing tallfluted glasses on a silver tray. He distributed them, and the Saprazzan leader lifted hers in a toast. "To the success of our meeting." "To success!"

Sisay, Orim, and Hanna lifted their cups. They contained water, but to Hanna it tasted like no water she knew. She could feel the liquid flowing deep down inside her, washing away the weariness of her journey, invigorating her. It had much the same effect on Orim and Sisay, who were drinking with eager delight. The Mercadian nobles had done no more than touch the rims of their cups to their fat lips and were now sitting silently, with expressions of disapproval.

The Saprazzan looked around, then addressed Sisay once more. "You come in the name of Mercadia, though our longstanding antagonism with them is no secret. You come aboard a Rishadan ship, and we have no love for their harpoons and nets. You come as friends of the Cho-Arrim, and though in ancient times we were great allies, it has been centuries since we have conversed with our forest brothers. Mercadian, Rishadan, Cho-Arrim-what message could you possibly bring to Saprazzo?"

Sisay replied, "It is a very important message we bear- very strange and wonderful. So important and strange, you will not believe if we tell you here, in this place of politics."

A look of concern crossed the vizier's face. "Where then?"

Sisay's gaze was level and bright. "A place of faith- for outside of faith, our message will be but foolishness."

"There are many places of faith in Saprazzo-sea shrines and sacred wells-but you seem to have one place in mind…?"

"Yes," Sisay said. "We beg the favor of speaking to you tomorrow in the Shrine of the Matrix."

The Shrine of the Matrix lay, heavily guarded, at the center of Saprazzo's royal palace. The palace itself was a massive edifice poised above the docks. One bank of windows gazed out on the wide bay and the other on the spreading city above. The building was a vast jewel box, built of red oceanic marble, white limestone, and insets of onyx. Corals of fuchsia and mauve had been figured into bosses along the walls. Curtains of kelp, rugs of woven seaweed, sponge cushions, whale-bone archways, baleen screens-the majesty of the sea suffused the place. At its heart, in a small raised room done in crimson, the Power Matrix resided within a large case of thick glass. It was magnificent.

The main body of the Power Matrix was a single enormous white crystal, nearly the height of a man. All along its faceted outer edges, other smaller stones in blue, green, red, white, and black were affixed. They seemed to pluck each strand of the spectrum out of the room's dim light and send it lancing into the central crystal. A network of metal wires connected the stones, and along the wires moved scintillating jolts of energy. It was a mesmerizing sight.

"We must keep the room dark," the grand vizier told her guests, "for the Matrix stores and channels energy. Were it to be exposed to sunlight, the stored energy would quickly cause the Matrix to explode."

Hanna nodded, her eyes tracing out the device she had read about in the Thran Tome. Orim's gaze was less analytic, more worshipful. To her, this was the mind of the Uniter. The Mercadians could only gape in naked avarice.

Sisay spoke reverently, "Tell us, Grand Vizier, if you please-tell us the story of this glorious artifact."

The vizier replied, "This is our greatest treasure, a symbol of the Saprazzan people, of their origins in divinity. Have you heard of the myth of Ramos?"

Orim said, "Yes. Among the Cho-Arrim, I observed the separi and stood beside the Fountain of Cho."

"The separi and the Navel of the World are well-known legends among us," the grand vizier replied. "I cannot speak for the Cho-Arrim account, but among Saprazzans, the story we know is this." The vizier's voice sank low, vibrating through the room in a kind of singsong rhythm that grew more pronounced as her tale continued. "Ramos was a great king and artificer, born in the dim past in another world. Some say he ruled all of his world, and the people bent beneath his foot. He strode across mountain and sea, fen and forest. But one place eluded his rule. At night he beheld the stars shining in the sky, and he wept because he could never reach up to them, could never bring them within the folds of his power and wisdom.

"Ramos sought long and hard for a way to reach the stars and grew increasingly obsessed by his quest. Each night he sat in the top room of the highest tower of his castle by the sea and stared up at the night sky. He made machines that might lift him up to the stars, but all failed.

"His people began to suffer for his neglect. He ignored the ordinary affairs of state, and the kingdom fell into disarray. Cruel, ambitious men took advantage of his preoccupation and carved out kingdoms for themselves. The land and sea groaned under their depredations, and the people sent ambassadors to Ramos, begging him for help. Still he would not listen.

"At the height of his pride and the peril of his need, he began to delve into the deepest secrets of artifice, secrets long hidden and forbidden. The palace was filled with strange men in white robes, and his courtiers shrank away from them when they passed. Yet they were welcomed into Ramos's inner sanctum, and he spent more and more time with them and less time with his ministers, so the kingdom grew even more weakened and divided.

"There came a night when the smoke and oil reek from the sealed room at the top of the tower was especially noisome, the chants and exhortations especially foul. So horrible were these mad ministrations that the folk of the forest gathered below the castle to shout imprecations. A shipful of pirates drew near to shake their fists toward the castle. Even the people of the sea rose from the waves to cry in anger. All of them heard the artificers clamoring amid their unholy machines, and they saw flashes of light from within the tower.

"On the balcony of the tower, from which place he had been accustomed in times past to watch the skies, appeared Ramos himself. Yet it seemed not Ramos, for his body shone and glimmered from within as if he were on fire. He clutched to his body a strange device-this device, the Power Matrix. It gathered the light of moon and stars and channeled them into the king.

"With a mighty shout that was heard through all the corners of the kingdom, he leaped from the tower. But instead of falling down, as might a normal man, Ramos rose into the sky. As he did so, the light from his body grew more and more brilliant. The watchers trembled at the unnatural sight. The body of Ramos grew until it seemed titanic in size, filling all the sky, turning night to bright day.

"The false sun's beaming raiment rolled down to catch up the folk of the forest. They were lifted aloft in the hem of his glory. So, too, the rays of light grasped the pirates and their ship and hauled them skyward. Lines of radiance hooked the people of the sea and brought them aloft, as well. Ramos carried the people of forest and coastline and ocean into the heavens with him, beyond his world. They ascended to the emptiness between worlds.

"So high they rose, so far so fast, that cracks appeared in the visage of Ramos and spread throughout his body. His triumph turned to terror, and great rents opened within his body. His luciferous raiment unraveled as well, flinging away his folk of sea and coastline and forest. Their clothes burned away, so that the people were flung naked into a new world. The pirate ship arced, flaming across a new sky-harbinger of their coming. The folk of the forest fell in the deeps of the Rushwood. The folk of the coastline fell in the bay of Rishada. The folk of the sea fell here. So cometary was their arrival that they broke the basin of the sea, and a great volcano rose-the volcano of Saprazzo.

"Ramos dropped the Power Matrix. It fell from the heavens with such force that it ripped the top from Mount Saprazzo. That is how the mountain came to be as it is and how we came to have the Power Matrix.

"Even Ramos himself burned. His flesh drifted to earth in ashes and embers, flaming in the air. In a mighty explosion, the remains of Ramos burst apart in five great pieces. They burned as they shot through the sky, each coalescing into its crystal essence-the Eye, the Skull, the Heart, the Horn, and the Tooth of Ramos. Together, they are called the Bones of Ramos.

"It is said that should this Power Matrix be joined with the five crystalline bones of Ramos, that Ramos himself would rise again and carry his people of forest and coastline and sea back to the beautiful world before."

The vizier's words ceased. She breathed slowly, deeply, gazing with reverence at the device.

Orim glanced at her companions, a small smile playing about her mouth.

Taking her own deep breath, Sisay said, "Grand Vizier, you have spoken very eloquently about the Power Matrix, symbol of your people. So too has our own Orim spoken eloquently of Ramos. The myths differ, though they agree about a few central truths."

The vizier's slim eyebrow lifted as she listened. "What truths are shared among Cho-Arrim and Saprazzan?"

"These truths-that you came here from another world, that you are kin one to another, that you arrived in this world on the back of a god who burned across the sky, that if artifacts left by that god were brought back together in conjunction, the people who held those artifacts would be united once again, that they could transform the world into a truer, more beautiful one."

As Sisay finished relaying these words, the vizier's beautiful face changed. A solemn joy came to her features. "Yes. History is full of facts without much truth, and mythology is full of truth without much fact."

"A matter of faith," Sisay replied, "which is why we asked to see you here. Have there been rumors of Ramos's return? Have the people been speaking of a fiery ship that burned across the skies?"

A look of surprised realization came to the vizier's face. "They have."

"So have the Cho-Arrim. So have the Mercadians and Rishadans. Ramos has returned. His soul-that fiery ship- brought us to this place. It cannot rise to fly again unless Ramos's mind-this artifact, the Power Matrix-is joined with it and with the Bones of Ramos. We have come seeking the Power Matrix, to fit it to the core of the ship. Your stories, ChoArrim stories, even the stories in our own Thran Tame agree-if these pieces are but joined, Ramos will rise again."

The spell of hope that had entered the vizier's face suddenly vanished like a soap bubble popping. "No. Faith and myth are good as far as they go, but you cannot ask a people to sacrifice their greatest treasures on faith. You cannot ask us to give up who we are in order to be united with our foes."

"Don't make up your mind yet, I beg you," Sisay replied. "Let us provide proof of what we say. Let us propose ways that your treasure and the treasures of the rest of the world might be safeguarded."

"Now you are speaking politics. And this is no place for politics. We will meet again tomorrow, in the council hall." So saying, the grand vizier lifted her hands, ushering the ambassadorial corps out of the Shrine of the Matrix.

Later that evening, Orim left her room and walked quietly along the street. Her head was bent in meditation. The Saprazzans she encountered gave her room to pass and did not speak to her.

After two days in Saprazzo, Orim had determined the city's general geographic structure. Toward the top, nearest the seawall, was a large open-air market, not nearly as extensive as that of Mercadia but impressive nonetheless in the range of goods available. Farther down the descending spiral were the homes of the Saprazzans. As far as the healer could tell, the poorer families lived closer to the top, while the level of wealth and luxury increased the farther down one went. Toward the bottom, one encountered the buildings that housed the Saprazzan government. All were richly decorated. Like the Mercadians, the Saprazzans had a weakness for mosaic, but while the people of the mountain used colored bits of stone and glass, the sea people preferred shells.

Water was ever-present: it cascaded in streams from the top to the bottom of the city, creating a fine mist that shone like diamonds in the morning sunlight. The inhabitants drank water in preference to wine, and to Orim, the water seemed intoxicatingly fresh and strengthening.

The waters of Saprazzo were far different from those of the Rushwood. That water was dark and secret, and its strength lay in its stillness. This water was lively and sparkling, constantly changing and shifting as the sun's rays struck it, turning it to yellow, orange, scarlet, and violet. So too, the Cho-Arrim had been hidden and unchanging, preserving the life they had lived for centuries in the face of a changing world. The Saprazzans, meanwhile, had embraced change and become part of it. The Cho-Arrim had been interested in quiet, inwarddirected philosophies. The Saprazzans were ever watching the horizon for what new adventures the sea would bring.

A short distance from Orim's room was a courtyard. There, graceful columns rose to an evening sky, and fresh greenery lined a small pool of clear, cold water. As the sun dipped behind the seawall and shadows lengthened, Orim sat beside one of the columns and listened to the gurgle of the stream that fed the pool. She could almost imagine she was back in the Rushwood, gazing out over the lagoon, Cho-Manno sitting peacefully at her side.

She knelt by the pool, legs and feet tucked beneath her, in what Cho-Manno had taught her was the proper position for meditation. She sought the inner peace and solitude that ChoArrim called vomannis, but lately she found not peace but pain.

Cho-Manno was dead. That thought haunted her. This time she did not push the thought aside. Instead, she reached out, embracing the pain. Her body shook with sobs. Damp hair clung to her cheeks. Her arms and legs trembled.

In her despair, she thought not of Cho-Manno but of the mystical place they had explored that last night before the attack, the Navel of the World, the Fountain of Cho, and its garden ringed by the lagoon.

Peace washed over her. As if in a trance, she heard the voice of her lover.

After death our souls are joined with the Great River to wind endlessly among the stars. The river has no find destination, just as it has no source. Amid its waters, all souls merge and become one. The river meanders through the heavens, redoubling upon itself until at last it merges with its beginning and the cycle returns. The river becomes the sky, which shelters the earth, embraces it, draws its strength and existence from it. True perfection lies in unity, the unity of all existence. True wisdom begins from the recognition of this unity. True happiness comes from participation in this unity.

As her lover's voice faded, Orim felt herself drifting. The stars wheeled above her. The sound of the stream merged with that of the sea. She reached toward the heavens, seeking to pluck down one of the bright stars that glittered there, to touch it, to taste it, to "No one comes here. We can discuss the plan here-"

Orim started from her dream and straightened. Her limbs were sore, her arms and legs full of pins and needles. She backed away, hiding behind a pillar.

The speaker had been one of the Mercadian ambassadors. There was a Saprazzan with him, clad in the light blue loincloth characteristic of the citizens. His face was in shadow, but Orim could see the moonlight glinting off his light blue skin. The men were speaking Saprazzan, slowly enough that Orim could understand their words.

"We need to act now," the Mercadian said. "They had the vizier in the palm of their hand today. Give them another few days, and she will surrender the Matrix to the foreigners. Our master would be very unforgiving of that outcome."

Orim ventured a glance from behind the pillar. She could see the Mercadian, his white robes gleaming in the darkness. The Saprazzan bent toward him and said something Orim could not hear.

"Of course. Your treachery will be well repaid. You will be the richest Saprazzan in the city and all because of a simple theft. You'll have your money once the Matrix reaches Mercadia."

There was a pause, and the Saprazzan asked some question. The Mercadian shook his head. "It will be simple enough. The foreigners have already expressed great interest in the Matrix. They have been shown its resting place. They will be easy enough to frame."

Orim must have made a sound of which she was unaware, for she saw the Saprazzan half-turn in her direction, peering into the dusk.

The Mercadian turned also. "Who's there?"

She leaped up but was too slow. Out of the starry night, a club descended.

A loud crunch… the smell of blood in her nose… and she fell to the limestone floor. Dark waters closed over her, and she knew no more.

Orim awoke to blades and blood. She sat up and peered about in confusion. Merfolk soldiers surrounded her, their tridents forming a deadly circle. The dark courtyard had been replaced by a bright and ornate room.

"What… what's happening?" she asked in garbled Saprazzan, rising to her feet. "Where am I? Who are you?"

The commander of the soldiers said, "I am Guard Commander Oustrathmer. You are in the royal palace, and you are under arrest."

"Arrest?" Orim asked, clutching her throbbing head. "For what?"

"For murder," the commander said, pointing down beside Orim. A Saprazzan guard lay there, his throat slit. Gesturing toward a small raised room, the soldier said, "And for conspiracy to steal the Power Matrix."

The blood ran from Orim's face. "No. You don't mean-"

"The Power Matrix is gone," Oustrathmer replied flatly.

Only then did Orim recognize the man-he was the Saprazzan conspirator at the pool.