The Green And The Gray

48

Cyril and Aleksander were the first to arrive, passing silently through the door and between the line of stone-faced S.W.A.T. cops Cerreta had set up just inside the glass wall. They ignored Roger as he tried to greet them, brushing past him and Caroline and climbing the steps to where Nikolos and Sylvia had picked out a tier of steps to sit on just above the circular platform midway up. They did deign to glance at Fierenzo as he stood silently a few steps away, though Roger suspected that was mostly from curiosity, and nodded with some genuine civility at Velovsky where he sat a little apart from the others.

Halfdan was next, giving the rows of palm trees below a wide berth as if expecting a dozen Warriors to leap out of them as he passed. He gave Roger and Caroline a curious once-over, ignored Fierenzo completely, and nodded formally to Cyril as he chose a place on the steps at the same level as the four Greens but a quarter of the way around the circle from them. Torvald was only a minute behind him, limping past the palms without giving them a second glance and carefully climbing the steps to where Roger and Caroline waited. "I see we're mostly assembled," he commented, nodding to his brother and glancing at Velovsky and the four Greens.

"Actually, we're completely assembled," Roger said, gesturing him toward the steps. "Please have a seat."

Torvald climbed the last few steps to where Halfdan sat stolidly and lowered himself onto the marble beside him, and Caroline gave Roger's hand a quick squeeze. "You can do it," she murmured.

Letting go, she crossed to Velovsky and sat down beside him.

Roger took a deep breath and stepped to the center of the circular platform. "Thank you all for coming here tonight," he said, looking at each of their faces in turn. None of them, with the exception of Caroline, looked particularly encouraging. "This is certainly a nicely symbolic place, if I do say so myself. Marble and stonework for the Grays; palm trees for the Greens. Something for everyone."

"If you have a point to make, please get to it," Aleksander said impatiently.

Roger took another deep breath, forcing himself not to be intimidated. Whether they knew it or not, whether they even cared or not, what he was about to say was going to change their lives. "But even more symbolic is the view through those windows," he continued, gesturing over their heads.

"Directly behind you is Ground Zero, where three thousand innocent people died when the twin towers collapsed."

He locked eyes with Aleksander. "A fate thousands more might have suffered if certain of you had had your way in this war of yours."

"Nobody wants to kill innocent people," Aleksander insisted. "All we want is the right to survive."

"Really?" Roger said. "Who's stopping you?"

Aleksander snorted and started to get up. "This is a waste of time," he declared. "Come on, Nikolos

—"

"Did you know that you all came from Earth?" Roger cut him off.

Aleksander froze halfway to his feet. "What?"

"That's right," Roger told him. "You didn't come from some alien world in some distant solar system. The only distance your transports brought you was about a quarter of the way around the planet, probably from someplace in central or eastern Europe."

"What are you talking about?" Sylvia demanded. "This is nothing like the world we left."

"That's because the transports also catapulted you four or five thousand years forward in time,"

Roger said. "Possibly more."

Slowly, Aleksander sat back down. "Dryads," he murmured. "The wood nymphs of Greek mythology."

"Yes," Cyril agreed, nodding as if a long-lost piece of a persistent puzzle had suddenly appeared on the table in front of him. "I wondered about that myself, years ago. But I put it down to coincidence."

"No coincidence," Roger confirmed. "You were indeed the inspiration for the dryads." He gestured behind him at the harbor. "Given your performance out there tonight, you probably inspired the myths about water nymphs, too."

He looked over at the two Grays. "And while the Greens were being worked into Greek myth, you and your manufacturing skills and Thor-inspiring hammerguns became part of the Norse tales."

"As the dwarves, I assume," Aleksander said, looking over at Halfdan and Torvald with a halfamused, half-malicious smile. "Not very flattering."

"Maybe not, but the Norse myths were more fun to read," Roger said before either Gray could respond. "But how you were perceived by the humans around you isn't important. The point is that you haven't really gone anywhere, which means that even if you wanted to leave there isn't anywhere else for you to go. This is your home; and if you can't learn to live together, you're still going to be stuck here."

"What makes you think we want to live together?" Torvald asked evenly. "What makes you think we even can live together?"

"You did so once," Roger pointed out. "Back in the Great Valley you lived in peace for at least three generations." He nodded at Velovsky. "Mr. Velovsky told us the whole story."

"Then I'm sure he also told you how that peace was broken by Green treachery," Halfdan bit out.

"Which, as you can see, is still the way they do things." He threw the Greens a tight smile.

"Fortunately, it's a game two sides can play." Still smiling, he lifted his left hand toward his ear—

"Freeze," Fierenzo said quietly.

Roger looked over at him. The detective had his gun out, tucked subtly at his side where it was out of view of the S.W.A.T. cops on the far side of the palm trees. "Lower your hand to your lap, nice and smooth," he ordered.

"And if I don't?" Halfdan countered, his hand hovering in the air halfway to his scarred cheek. "Are you going to shoot me?"

"If I have to," Fierenzo said.

The Gray shrugged. "It won't matter if you do," he said. "You didn't think I was foolish enough to come here alone, did you?"

"That's what you agreed to," Roger said, his pulse pounding suddenly in his throat. No—it couldn't come apart. Not now. Especially not like this.

"I agreed to come in here alone," Halfdan corrected him. "Out there in the world is a different matter entirely."

"What are you waiting for?" Aleksander demanded, looking at Fierenzo. "You can see he's betrayed us. Shoot him."

"Wait a minute," Roger said, holding out a hand toward Fierenzo. "Halfdan, you don't really want to die, do you?"

"Whether I die or not, you can't stop what's about to happen," the Gray said calmly. "My sons Bergan and Ingvar are standing ready, and they have their orders."

"What orders?" Roger asked. "What do you want?"

"To fulfill the bargain Cyril and the Greens made with us," Halfdan said, an edge of anger underlying his words. "We agreed to sacrifice Melantha with the understanding that it would return our forces to parity and thus ensure neither side could start a war with any guarantee of victory." He nodded toward the glass wall and the yacht floating in the harbor. "Now, of course, we see why Cyril was so willing to let her die. He already had a full set of aces up his sleeve."

"I knew nothing about the Catskills colony or those Warriors until tonight," Cyril protested. "That was all Nikolos." He flashed a look at Aleksander. "Or Aleksander."

"In that case, you should be on my side in this," Halfdan told him. "Regardless of whose plot it was, the fact is that there are enough Warriors in those trees and that boat to slaughter every Gray in New York. So I'm going to eliminate them, and bring us back to the parity we originally agreed to."

"You can't do this," Aleksander snarled. But there was a nervous edge beneath the bluster. "Fierenzo, you can't let him murder an entire group of Greens."

"He won't," Nikolos assured him, staring coldly at Halfdan. "Because if he does, an equal number of Gray children will die."

Halfdan's face froze. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about twenty Warriors already in place in Queens and Brooklyn," Nikolos said. "Tell him, Detective—you and the other police watched them leave the yacht."

Halfdan snarled something in an alien language. "You uncivilized little—"

"Calm yourself," Nikolos cut him off. "Your children aren't their primary target. But that will change the minute the first Warrior out there dies at your hand."

For a long moment they locked eyes. Then, slowly, Halfdan lowered his hand to his lap. "Those Warriors will not leave here alive," he warned softly. "We agreed; and we will fulfill that agreement."

"So the truth comes out at last," Aleksander murmured. "When Grays speak about peace, what they really mean is the incremental destruction of the Greens."

"You see the problem, Roger," Torvald said. "The old hatreds and animosities run very deep."

"No, they don't," Caroline spoke up. "Or at least, they shouldn't. You had three full generations of peace between your peoples. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Not to those who lived through the war," Aleksander said. "Not to those who saw their homes destroyed and their families slaughtered."

"Fine," Roger said. "Hold onto your own personal hatred, if you insist. But there's no reason to saddle your children and grandchildren with it, too."

"The children will go where the adults lead," Halfdan said sourly. "Especially Green children."

"Maybe," Roger said. "But maybe not. Let me tell you about a couple of idealistic young kids named Jordan Anderson and Melantha Green."

He related the story of the accidental meeting between the young Green and Gray, the tentative development of their secret friendship, and the eventual expansion of that friendship to their families. Through it all, his audience listened in stony silence.

"So that's what happened," Torvald murmured when Roger had finished. "I'd wondered how Melantha's family could have persuaded a Gray like Jonah McClung to rescue her that night."

"He did it because she and Jordan were friends," Roger said. "If your own history doesn't convince you that you can live in peace, maybe that will."

He looked at Halfdan. "Not just in a state of truce, either, with both sides poised for war but knowing they can't win," he added. "I mean a real, genuine, stable peace."

"It's easy for you to talk peace," Aleksander growled. "Easy for Melantha and Jordan, too. None of you ever saw the results of Gray treachery."

"It was Green treachery that started the war," Halfdan countered.

"There was no treachery!" Roger snarled, suddenly sick of the whole argument. "The fire was started by dry lightning. The Grays fired into the trees trying to create a firebreak. The Greens attacked the cliffs thinking the Grays were shooting at them. The whole thing was a massive, stupid mistake."

"How dare you talk about us this way?" Aleksander demanded, half-rising from his seat as if preparing to attack Roger bodily. "How dare you pass judgment on things you have no knowledge of?"

"Besides, if it was a mistake why didn't anyone back then figure it out?" Torvald added.

Roger took a careful breath, pushing away his frustration and forcing himself back into control.

They'd reached the crux of the matter, and the last thing he could afford was to let his emotions obscure their chance of understanding. "That is the question, isn't it?" he agreed. "And that brings me to my final point... because the fact of the matter is, they did."

He looked at the Greens. "Tell me, Aleksander. How did you and your people get here?"

"In our transport, of course," Aleksander said. "I thought you said Velovsky told you everything."

"Yes, he did," Roger acknowledged, turning to the Grays. "And you?"

"Both our peoples had transports," Torvald said. "You should know—you and your friends had a brief tour of ours."

"They what?" Halfdan asked, frowning at his brother. "When?"

"Last night," Roger said before Torvald could answer. "We went there to get Melantha."

Cyril inhaled sharply. "Torvald had her?"

"And you have her back?" Aleksander demanded.

"We have her, and she's safe," Roger assured him. "And before you ask, Torvald treated her quite well. Better than certain others of you would have, I might add. The point is that Velovsky was with us on this little expedition, and while we were there he did something that finally put me on the right track."

He looked over at the old man. "Do you remember pausing at that last T-junction before we found Melantha? We were going to go right, but you told us to go left."

"Of course I remember," Velovsky said, a little stiffly. "And I was right."

"You were indeed," Roger said, nodding. "We found her in the aft passenger compartment." He lifted his eyebrows. "The question is, how did you know she was back there?"

Velovsky frowned. "I don't understand."

"My assumption at the time was that your close contact with Leader Elymas back on Ellis Island had sensitized you to Green telepathic communications," Roger said. "My wife has developed some of that talent, too, thanks to Cyril's attempt to use his Persuader's Gift on her."

"But that wasn't it?" Torvald asked, his voice suddenly tight.

Roger shook his head. "We arrived to find Melantha just waking up," he said. "Aleksander had already told us that Greens don't simply broadcast their presence, like sonar beacons or something.

But if she was asleep, she wasn't talking, and he couldn't have heard her. And Velovsky had never been aboard the Gray transport, so he couldn't have known where that passenger compartment was."

He paused. "Or could he?"

No one spoke. For a moment Roger looked around at them, noting the frowns and puzzlement on their faces. They weren't getting it, or else were refusing to get it. "Cyril, I'll be the first to agree that your people have amazing Gifts," he said, turning to the four Greens sitting stiffly in their little cluster. "But I've yet to see anything mechanical or electronic that you've built. So tell me: who built your transport?"

"No," Cyril whispered. "You're wrong."

"And you," Roger continued, turning to Halfdan and Torvald. "Your people could probably have designed and built that transport in your sleep. But how did you throw it five thousand years into the future?"

"I'll be damned," Fierenzo said, sounding stunned. "The Grays built both transports... and the Greens sent both of them here?"

"Exactly," Roger said, feeling an odd surge of relief now that it was finally out in the open. "That's how Velovsky knew his way around the Gray transport. It was identical to the Greens', which he'd been aboard any number of times."

He looked back and forth between the two groups. "Don't you get it? This whole thing was a joint mission, put together to get a remnant of both your peoples away from a war that no one wanted but that no one could stop. The Gray mechanics built both transports, and the Green Farseers and Groundshakers sent both of them on their way. That's why you both ended up here, outside New York City. The whole idea was that you were supposed to live together."

"If that was true, why didn't anyone tell us?" Sylvia spoke up. "Why didn't anyone aboard the transports even know about it?"

"Battery Park," Torvald murmured.

They all looked at him. "What?" Cyril asked.

"You remember, Halfdan," Torvald said, turning to his brother. "On the first Sunday of every month, Dad always went out alone, early in the morning, to go sit in Battery Park. He never came home until after sunset." He looked with sudden understanding at Roger. "And he always seemed somehow sad."

Roger shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't see the connection."

"I do," Caroline said suddenly. "He was waiting for Leader Elymas, wasn't he? It was a prearranged rendezvous, a time and place for them to make contact once both of you were settled and Elymas judged his people were ready."

"I think you're right," Torvald said. "Only Elymas never came, because he was already dead."

"And of course, none of the other Greens knew anything about the plan," Roger said, nodding heavily. "So your father died thinking the Greens had decided they didn't want anything to do with you."

"It's a nice theory, Roger," Aleksander said. "But that's all it is: a theory. You have no proof of any of this."

"Actually," Roger said, "I do."

He gestured toward Velovsky. "That's the real reason I asked Mr. Velovsky to join us here tonight.

When you first arrived, Elymas gave him an instant telepathic rundown of who and what you were and what you were doing here. I gather it wasn't something a Leader had ever done before, and it affected him so badly that it may be part of what killed him."

"You aren't suggesting Velovsky can tell us what Leader Elymas was thinking, are you?" Nikolos scoffed.

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Roger said, looking back at Velovsky. "Mr. Velovsky? The floor's yours."

Velovsky shook his head. "No," he said.

Roger blinked. He'd been prepared for doubt on Velovsky's part over this part of the scheme, or hesitation or disbelief or even denial. But a flat-out refusal was a response he'd never even considered. "Excuse me?" he asked carefully.

"I said no," Velovsky said firmly. "It's ridiculous and stupid, and it was a long time ago. And I'm not going to do it."

Roger shot a glance at Caroline, saw his surprise and consternation mirrored in her expression. "Why not?" she asked, leaning forward a little to look the old man more fully in the eye. "All we're asking you to do is try. Won't you at least try?"

Velovsky folded his arms across his chest. "No," he said.

"Well, in that case, I'd say the festivities are over," Aleksander said, getting to his feet. "If you'll call off your dogs, Detective, we'll be on our way."

"Just cool it just a minute," Fierenzo growled. "Look, Velovsky, I don't know what game you're playing, but it ends now. Tell us what Elymas had in mind, or I'll have you up on so many charges it'll make your head unscrew at the neck."

"Leave him alone," Cyril said sharply, standing up beside Aleksander. "He's said he isn't going to talk. Creating phony charges isn't going to get you anywhere."

"Phony like hell," Fierenzo retorted, shifting his glare to the Greens. "You're about to start a war.

Velovsky is preventing us from stopping that war. That's obstruction of justice, failure to cooperate with an official investigation, conspiracy to commit multiple assault and homicide—"

"All right!" Velovsky snapped, jumping to his feet, his thin hands curling into thin fists at his sides.

"You want to know what Leader Elymas thought? I'll tell you what he thought. He was full of hopes and dreams: a desire for a new life for his people in this new world, a place where they could live in peace and harmony."

He turned aching eyes on Roger. "But beneath all of that," he added, his voice trembling, "there was an undercurrent of hostility and hatred at what had been done to them in the Valley."

He took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. "Leader Elymas didn't want peace with the Grays, Roger," he said. "He wanted to kill them all."

For a frozen moment in time the room was filled with a bitter-edged silence. Caroline stared at Velovsky, his words echoing through her mind like a death sentence. Death for the Greens and the Grays, for Melantha, possibly for the entire city.

"But that's impossible," she heard Roger say.

Tearing her eyes away from Velovsky, she focused on her husband. He was just standing there, frozen with the rest of the universe, his face looking like that of a lost child. He'd worked so hard on this, with all his hopes and thoughts concentrated into this single moment.

But that hope had been in vain. Here at the end, it had all come tumbling down around him like a house of cards.

And then, even as she looked at him, something stirred deep inside her. No—he wasn't wrong. He couldn't be. She might not have been able to create the same train of logic that he had, but she had certainly been able to follow it. Velovsky had to be lying.

But why? Did he genuinely want war between his old friends and the Grays? Certainly he'd sounded aggressive enough when he'd first told them the story. He'd as much as admitted, in fact, that he was on Aleksander's side of the conflict.

But that was when it had been a question of Melantha living or dying, and how that would affect the balance of power. Surely now that he'd heard Roger's arguments—now that he'd seen in Melantha and Jordan that peace was possible—surely he wouldn't deliberately let a war begin. Had he been so blindly influenced by Aleksander's opinions that he couldn't think for himself anymore?

Her eyes drifted away from her husband as she suddenly understood. No, not Aleksander's opinions... "Just a minute," she spoke up as Aleksander threw a final look at Velovsky and started down the steps. "Please. Just one more minute."

"And what would you presume to add to this discussion?" Aleksander asked contemptuously over his shoulder.

"It wasn't Leader Elymas who hated the Grays and wanted them dead," she said. "It was someone else."

Aleksander turned to look at her, taking two more steps before reluctantly coming to a halt.

"Velovsky just said it was him."

"He was wrong," Caroline said. "Yes, most of what he got was from Leader Elymas. But not the hatred. That leaked in from the other Persuader."

"What are you talking about?" Cyril demanded. "There weren't any other Persuaders on the transport."

"What about you two?" Roger asked.

"I was only ten," Cyril told him. "Aleksander was seven. Our Gifts hadn't even begun to show, much less been confirmed."

"Nevertheless, there was another Persuader present," Caroline said. "One who was never identified as such, thanks to a group of Command-Tacticians who were suspicious of Leader Elymas's motives.

A Persuader who has maintained that same deception ever since."

Deliberately, she shifted her gaze to Nikolos. "A Persuader," she added quietly, "who was standing right beside Leader Elymas, in perfect position to poison his father's communication."

Velovsky inhaled sharply. "Nikolos?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Aleksander said with a snort. But his eyes were on Nikolos, and there were hard wrinkles creasing his cheeks.

"But that would be..." Cyril stopped abruptly.

"What he did, he did for the best," Caroline said. "At least, that's what he was told."

"That's why they sent all the extra Warriors along," Sylvia murmured, as if a long-standing question had just found an answer. "And why they insisted I keep Nikolos's true Gift a secret. They wanted a counterweight to Elymas, someone who hated the Grays as much as they did."

"These are all fascinating suppositions," Nikolos said, standing up. "But no matter how clever your logic, there's still no way for Velovsky to prove that my father wanted peace with our enemies."

"Sure he can," Roger said, flashing a quick, desperate look at Caroline. "If he can sort out the memories, he can figure out which ones came from each of you."

Nikolos shook his head. "You're arguing in circles," he said. "In order to do that, he has to begin by assuming the memories that involve hatred of the Grays came from me, which is precisely what you're trying to prove."

"Maybe he doesn't have to prove anything," Caroline said slowly. The wildest, most lunatic idea she'd ever had in her life had suddenly occurred to her. A desperate idea; but she could see no other way. "Tell me again why the Greens are split over whose decisions to follow."

"It's because we have no Leader," Cyril said. "You know that."

"Yes," Caroline agreed. "But what if you did have one? Would everyone obey his commands?"

"What are you suggesting?" Nikolos demanded suspiciously. "That we should all just sit and wait for the next Leader to arise?"

"I'm saying you already have one." Caroline looked at Velovsky. "Namely, the memories and thoughts and dreams of Leader Elymas that reside within Mr. Velovsky."

Nikolos threw back his head and gave a bark of laughter. "Of course," he said. "Silly me—why didn't I see it sooner? Of course we should let a Human lead us."

"Why not?" Roger said, jumping in to Caroline's support. "If Elymas was here, he'd be your Leader, right?"

"A Leader is by definition a Green," Cyril said tartly. "He or she must have both the Gifts of Persuader and Visionary. Velovsky has neither."

"Of course there are physiological limitations," Roger said. "But he does have Elymas's memories and probably a lot of his personality. He should be able to give you a good idea of what Elymas would have decided in any given situation. Certainly better than you or Nikolos or Aleksander could."

"Now you've crossed the line to insulting," Cyril said with a sniff. "This meeting is over."

"Just a minute," Caroline said.

"You keep asking for minutes," Aleksander said. "I'm sorry, but your minutes are up."

"I wasn't talking to you," Caroline said calmly. "I was talking to Sylvia."

That got their attention. "Sylvia?" Aleksander repeated, turning and frowning at her. "What does she have to do with this?"

"Everything," Caroline said, mentally crossing her fingers. "Because Sylvia is the only one of you we have to convince."

"What are you talking about?" Cyril demanded, sounding more bewildered than angry. "She's not a Persuader or a Leader."

"No," Caroline agreed. "But she's the Command-Tactician, in charge of your Warriors. If she agrees that Leader Elymas didn't want war, there won't be one."

"She can't decide that on her own," Nikolos insisted, all but sputtering. "The Command-Tactician is under the strict authority of the Leader."

"Exactly." Caroline looked at Sylvia. "Well, Sylvia? You once told me your job was to do whatever was necessary to give your people their best chance to survive. Was that true? Or is it war that you really want?"

Slowly, her eyes on Caroline, Sylvia rose to her feet. She walked over to where Velovsky still stood on the steps, and for a moment looked him up and down. "Ti larocel spiroce," she said.

He seemed taken aback. "What?"

"If you claim to hold Leader Elymas's memories, you surely understand Kailisti," she pointed out calmly. "Ti larocel spiroce."

Velovsky licked his lips and threw Roger a furtive look. "Uh..."

"Ti larocel spiroce," Sylvia repeated.

"Yes, yes, I know," Velovsky snapped peevishly. "Let me think, will you?"

"This is ridiculous," Nikolos growled, gesturing toward the door. "Sylvia, we're leaving."

Sylvia didn't move. "Ti larocel spiroce."

"Ti larocel spiroce," Velovsky muttered. "Ti larocel spiroce. Ti larocel spiroce..."

Abruptly, he cocked his head to the side. "Right. Right. Let's see: Doub—doubul—no; dobulocel dinzin ehi blyi," he said, fighting the syllables as if he was wrestling small alligators.

Sylvia nodded slightly. "Quis el ekt thi semutom," she said.

"Right," Velovsky said. "Uh... dyi tu el stel eruyn-ehi currti?"

"Noni epethitoc dobito ampethitoc ruslir sketi," Sylvia said, the words starting to come faster now.

Velovsky drew himself up to his full height. "Eoth merkidi prupin-ota," he said. "Prucrest onistom slyth."

Caroline felt a whisper of air beside her, and turned to see Fierenzo come up to her side. "Any idea what they're saying?" he asked quietly.

"Not a clue," she said. "But they seem to understand. That's what counts."

Fierenzo grunted. "Maybe." He nodded past her. "Nikolos and Aleksander don't look happy at all.

That's probably a good sign."

Caroline followed his gaze. The other Greens' expressions seemed to be hovering somewhere between furious and apprehensive, with a large helping of disbelief thrown in. Cyril, in contrast, looked merely thoughtful. "Maybe," she agreed cautiously.

Abruptly, the conversation ended. For another moment, Sylvia and Velovsky stood staring at each other in silence. Then, very deliberately, Sylvia bowed her head toward him. "I hear the Leader," she said in a clear voice. "And I obey."

Aleksander took a step toward her. "Sylvia, don't be ridicu—"

She silenced him with a look. "I have heard the Leader's words from within Otto Human Velovsky," she said. "Those words order me to withdraw my Warriors from their attack positions and to return them to their homesteads." She looked over at the two Grays. "I have given that command."

"No!" Nikolos snarled, flashing a look at the Grays.

"You'd leave us open to our enemies?" Aleksander agreed tensely.

"Yet we know now what Leader Elymas wished for us," Cyril murmured.

"We know nothing of the kind," Aleksander snapped. "That Human is not our Leader."

"The Leader within him has spoken," Sylvia repeated, turning her back on Velovsky and walking back to face the others. "I have no choice but to obey his order."

"This is insane," Nikolos snarled. "What kind of Green are you?"

"She's a Green who knows there's nothing here to fight about," Roger put in. "That there never was anything. Most of the Grays in New York weren't even born when you escaped from the war, and the rest were only children. You can't ask them to pay for the mistakes of their parents, any more than they can demand that kind of payment from you. You can put all that behind you and start again."

"It's what both of your leaders wanted," Caroline added. "You know that's true."

"We know nothing of the sort," Aleksander bit out. "This is nothing more than a pathetic trick."

"So don't believe it," Roger said. "Why not try it anyway? What have you got to lose?"

"Our lives, perhaps?" Aleksander countered sarcastically.

"They can't destroy you, even if they wanted to," Roger insisted. "You've got the superior firepower.

You can afford to back off and see if you really can live in peace together."

"Unless you're willing to admit that a couple of twelve-year-olds can do what you can't," Caroline added.

Aleksander shot a glance at the two Grays, his forehead wrinkling uncertainly—

"No," Nikolos ground out, taking a step forward to put himself and Sylvia face to face. "Our murdered dead will be avenged."

And suddenly, through the tension in the air, Caroline could feel a pressure against her mind. The same pressure she'd felt outside Lee's market, when Cyril had tried to order her to give up Melantha.

Only this time it wasn't directed at her. It was focused full-strength on Sylvia.

"What's going on?" Fierenzo demanded quietly from beside her.

It took Caroline two tries to find her voice. "Nikolos is trying to persuade her to change her mind," she said. "He's trying to make her order an attack."

She thought she'd been keeping her voice low. Apparently, not low enough. "So much for trusting the Greens," Halfdan said, his voice brittle. "Torvald, this is our chance."

"Our chance for what?" Torvald asked.

"What do you mean, for what?" his brother bit out. "Can't you see they're completely locked up? She can't give any new orders."

"You wouldn't dare," Aleksander rumbled, starting toward him.

"Come closer and I'll break your neck," Halfdan warned. "Roger was right, Torvald—they have overwhelming force. If we don't take those Warriors now, when they're out of position and off balance, we may never have another chance."

"Aleksander?" Nikolos muttered from between clenched teeth.

Silently, Aleksander stepped to Nikolos's side; and as he did, Caroline felt a sudden increase in the pressure on her mind. "They're double-teaming her," she breathed to Fierenzo. She took a step toward them—

"No," Fierenzo said quietly, putting a hand on her arm. "Let them work it out themselves."

"But they're ordering her to start a war."

"I know," the detective said, his voice grim. "But if they can really make her do something like that, I want to find it out now rather than later."

"Torvald," Halfdan said urgently. "There are too many for my men. We have to do it together."

"You can't," Roger said, his voice pleading. "Please."

"What about the guarantee my daughter asked you for?" Torvald countered.

Roger seemed to brace himself. "There are no guarantees in this life," he told the Gray. "No one can make promises for the future. But if your two peoples are at peace when the next Leader arises, what reason would he or she have to want to make war against you?"

Torvald didn't answer, his eyes seemingly focused somewhere beyond him. "Torvald!" Halfdan repeated, all but snarling the word.

And then, Torvald's gaze came back, and he turned to his brother. "You're right," he agreed. "This is our chance." He lifted his hand to his cheek. "This is Torvald," he announced. "All Grays, withdraw immediately and return to your homes. Repeat: all Grays withdraw to your homes. It's over." He lifted his eyebrows at his brother. "Halfdan?" he invited.

Caroline looked back at the frozen tableau of Sylvia, Aleksander, and Nikolos, locked in their silent combat. It all looked just like it had a minute earlier... and yet, through the pressure still flowing past her mind she suddenly sensed something was terribly wrong. Her eyes searched Nikolos's face, found no clue there, and drifted lower to his jacket.

His trassk was gone.

Her eyes darted lower, to his hands. There it was, the copper-colored filigree clutched almost hidden in his right hand.

And even as she caught her breath, his left hand dipped into his right palm and pulled the trassk into the shape of a wide, short-bladed knife. With the blade still half-concealed, she sensed him brace himself—

"No!" Caroline cried. Shaking off Fierenzo's hand, she leaped forward, reaching desperately for Nikolos's arm.

But as she had sensed his preparation, so he had apparently sensed hers. She had barely covered half the distance when he turned on his heel, swinging around to point the knife directly at her.

She gazed at the glittering weapon as she moved toward it, time seeming to slow down as the inevitability of what was about to happen flooded across her mind. It was far too late for her to break off her charge toward him now... and even if she could, she wasn't sure she would want to. All of her time and conversations with Sylvia flashed back to mind: the Command-Tactician's quiet pride in herself and her Warriors, her quick and supple mind as she planned her stratagems, her earnestness when speaking of the safety of her people. In spite of all the lies and deceptions, Caroline had no doubt that Sylvia's acceptance of Velovsky's word meant a genuine willingness to make peace with the Grays.

If she died on Nikolos's blade, that chance would be gone.

Distantly, she was aware of other activity beginning to erupt belatedly around her. She felt Fierenzo's hand as it grabbed at her arm and then slid uselessly off her sleeve. From the corner of her eye she saw Torvald start to stretch out his hand toward Nikolos, but she could see that even if he could get his hammergun ready in time Sylvia's body would be blocking his shot.

And she heard Roger's gasp of fear and horror as he realized he was too far away to do anything at all to help. To do anything except watch her die.

Nikolos's knife was in motion now, still in the dreamlike slow motion created by her enhanced mental state. The pressure on her mind changed subtly as it came up toward her....

And suddenly a hand appeared from nowhere, grabbing Nikolos's wrist and twisting the knife to point away from her. Another hand simultaneously slammed palm-first into her chest, bringing her mad rush to an abrupt and painful halt. Her breath went out in a huff, and for a moment she teetered on the marble floor as she struggled for balance.

Then Roger was at her side, gripping her arms tightly as he pulled her back to stability and safety.

Blinking away sudden tears, she tore her eyes away from the knife and looked up at her rescuer's face.

It was Aleksander, his throat rigid, a stunned and almost terrified disbelief in his eyes as he stared at Nikolos. "What are you doing?" he demanded, his voice the darkness of a graveyard. "You would kill one of our own?"

"She's a traitor to the Greens," Nikolos snarled, his voice trembling.

"Not to the Greens," Caroline corrected, fighting to get air back into her lungs. "Only to you."

"And to a needless war," Sylvia spoke up, her voice calm and steady, with no sign of the mental battle she'd just gone through. "I have heard the Leader's words. The Warriors will stand down."

Reaching over, she deftly wrenched the knife from Nikolos's hand, collapsed it back into copper filigree, and handed it to Cyril.

"Then you condemn us all to death," Nikolos accused.

"Do I?" Sylvia looked at Torvald. "One Gray leader has already shown himself willing to try the path of peace."

"Halfdan?" Torvald prompted, and ominous edge to his voice.

For a moment Halfdan stood motionless, his throat tight, his scar standing out whitely against the redness in his cheeks. Then, with a frustrated hiss, he lifted his hand. "This is Halfdan," he growled.

"All Grays, go home.... Yes, Bergan, that means you and Ingvar, too.... Just go home." He waited for acknowledgment, then dropped his hand back to slap against his side.

Sylvia turned back to Caroline. "Thank you," she said.

Caroline licked her lips. "Thank you," she murmured back.

"Okay," Roger breathed, and Caroline could hear him struggling to get his mind back on track again.

"Okay. Then there's just one more thing." He looked past Caroline at the S.W.A.T. cops still lined up at the far end of the Winter Garden. "Sylvia, is it possible for you to give them just enough of a Shriek to scramble their perception for a couple of seconds, but without startling them enough that they'll start shooting?"

"It's possible, yes," she said. "You want it now?"

"Please."

She nodded. "Everyone, brace yourselves." Crossing to the far end of the circular platform, she opened her mouth and gave out a sound that sounded like a prairie dog yip. Caroline jerked in spite of the warning—

The three closest palm trees seemed to bulge outward; and suddenly there were three figures walking across the marble floor toward them: a man and two women, one of the women noticeably shorter than the other. Caroline blinked, forcing her eyes back to focus; and to her surprise and delight, she saw that the shorter woman was Melantha. "Melantha!" she gasped, crossing the platform and hurrying down the steps toward the girl. Melantha gave a delighted squeak of her own and broke into a jog.

They met in the middle of the first set of stairs, and for a long moment teetered there precariously as they hugged. "I'm so glad to see you," Caroline murmured, holding the girl tightly. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Melantha said, her voice muffled in Caroline's shirt.

"Thanks to you," the other woman said.

Caroline looked up to see the two adults coming up to her. "I'm sorry," she apologized, suddenly feeling awkward as she released Melantha. "You must be...?"

"We're Melantha's parents," the man said. "Zenas and Laurel. And there's no apology needed."

"More like thanks," a new voice came from behind her.

Caroline turned. Two more Grays had suddenly appeared, a man and a woman, coming down the upper stairs. "I'm sorry—I didn't see you," she said.

"That's okay," the Gray man said with a smile. "We weren't exactly trying to be seen."

"These are Ron and Stephanie, Jordan's and Jonah's parents," Melantha explained, gesturing to them.

"They were hiding masked up on the wall."

"Are you here to gloat?" Nikolos demanded, glaring at Melantha's family.

"Not at all," Roger assured him. "They're here to make a point. Melantha?"

Still standing beside Melantha, Caroline sensed the girl brace herself as she turned to face the other Greens. "I state here and now, Persuaders Cyril, Aleksander, and Nikolos, and Command-Tactician Sylvia," she said in a clear voice, "that I will not use my Groundshaker Gift to help any of you in an unprovoked attack against the Grays."

Nikolos rumbled in his throat. "So we have two traitors—"

"Quiet," Cyril ordered. "Let her finish."

"I also state to you, Torvald and Halfdan Gray," Melantha continued, turning to face them, "that I will not hesitate to use that same Gift in defense of the Greens if they are attacked."

"In other words, Melantha is on the side of peace," Roger said. "And she'll use or withhold her Gift however necessary to make sure that peace is maintained."

"The Peace Child," Caroline murmured, the irony of it suddenly striking her. "Whichever of you gave her that name knew what he was talking about, after all."

Halfdan muttered something under his breath. "Is that it, then? Can we finally go?"

"That's it," Roger said, nodding. "Except for the details of how we go about integrating your peoples into the same areas. But that can wait till tomorrow."

"Why not start now?" Torvald spoke up. "There are a number of fine trees that have been going to waste in Washington Square since the Greens pulled out." He looked questioningly at Zenas and Laurel. "There are also a pair of vacant apartments across MacDougal Alley from my home. Either one would make a good homestead for any Greens who wanted to repopulate the park."

Laurel looked uncertainly at her husband. "What do you think?"

"You know, I've always wanted to live in Manhattan," Ron spoke up before Zenas could answer.

"You said there were two vacant apartments?"

"You can move right in," Torvald said.

"Wait a minute," Aleksander objected. "Melantha's not going to live in the middle of Gray territory."

"That's rather up to you, isn't it?" Roger told him. "If you can get enough Greens to move back to Washington Square, it won't be Gray territory anymore. It'll be Gray and Green territory."

"I'm not sure how well our people would take to such a suggestion," Cyril said doubtfully.

"I'm sure some will be interested," Sylvia spoke up smoothly. "As a matter of fact, I was just thinking that I'd like to try city life for awhile."

Halfdan snorted. "Together with all your Warriors, no doubt?"

"No, just the few necessary to protect the Greens who'll be living there," Sylvia assured him. She lifted her eyebrows at Torvald. "With your permission, of course?"

For a moment, Torvald hesitated. "Are you really ready to trust the Greens with your life?" Halfdan murmured.

The uncertainty in Torvald's face smoothed away. "You don't start by trusting all of them," he told his brother. "You start by trusting just one."

He inclined his head toward Sylvia. "You and your Warriors are welcome, Command-Tactician," he told her. "As far as I'm concerned, the more the merrier. From both sides."

"And with that, I think that we are done," Fierenzo said. "I'll go talk to Cerreta, tell him everything's been cleared up, and send the S.W.A.T. team home."

"You think they'll just let us go?" Sylvia asked, frowning. "I assumed we'd have to Shriek them and disappear before they recovered."

"I'd rather not do that if we don't have to," Fierenzo told her. "Unsolved mysteries are very upsetting to the brass. Still, as I understand it, you showed no actual weapons, did no lasting damage to either personnel or property, and had Mr. Galen's permission to borrow his yacht." He lifted his eyebrows toward Nikolos. "You did have his permission, didn't you?"

"Don't worry," Cyril said. "I'll make sure we did."

"Then I think we're clear," Fierenzo said, offering his hand to Ron and then Zenas. "I trust I'll be invited to visit you both once you're settled into MacDougal Alley?"

"Absolutely," Zenas assured him. "As Torvald said, the more the merrier." He smiled at Caroline.

"From all three sides."