CHAPTER VI


THE STARCASTER'S TALE




	Trajan awoke to the shouts of herdsmen and the bleating of goats resounding 
through the dell.  The sun had already set towards the western hairline, daubing the grove 
roof with wine-red bands of its sunken glory.  Dusk settled on the hamlet as husbandmen 
returned home from adjacent fields and orchards, and chimneys puffed with the smoke 
of cooking fires.  Loud greetings were exchanged here, arguments bandied there, children 
squealing for attention.  The village came to life as night was draping the lands. 

	Jeremy was waiting for him outside the cabin with a scowling face and playfully 
Trajan shook his shoulders.  "What is all this glumness?  I thought you would be looking 
happier once you were reunited with your Perceptor."

	"I'm happy all right," Jeremy said indifferently, "but I will be much happier if we 
could share the same cabin."

	"I think," Trajan said, putting an arm around the boy's shoulders as they walked 
to the communal brickhouse, "that your Perceptor prefers you stay with him.  Besides, 
Conrad is taking good care of me." 

	His remark did very little to remedy but much to aggravate Jeremy's expression of 
ill humour.  Trajan nudged him.  "Come on, put up a better face or you will not sit at the 
table with me."  Jeremy grudgingly relaxed and brightened up when he put forward the 
eager question:  "What are you going to do next, Captain?"  

	"I may go and visit a Vesparan city." Trajan answered thoughtfully.  

	"I have heard," Jeremy ventured enthusiastically, "that Okrane, the capital, is only 
a day's travelling away on a fast horse.  Can I go with you?"

	"H'm," Trajan gazed at the eager face of the young Cougar, "personally, I don't 
see why not, but what about your Elder?  We should first find out what he thinks about it 
before I agree.  After all, you are under his charge now."  

	Almost everyone of importance in the village appeared to have assembled in the 
communal salon of the brickhouse where in the centre a U-shaped table was arrayed with 
porcelain dinner sets, silverware and brass candlesticks.  The ruling hierarchy of the 
village was represented by the Village Chairman and his Circle of Supervisors.  Apart 
from them the chief attendants of the celebration banquet consisted of the Elder, his few 
Underheads and the bulk of the new arrivals.  

	The Elder at first was at two minds whether to include the hireling Jackal in these 
rather formal proceedings, but Jeremy advised him the Captain would surely be 
displeased if the hireling was being discriminated against, and an invitation was 
graciously extended to Jackal to take part in the dinner party.  The Captain was the other 
dubious person whom the Elder could not exactly put his finger on, especially after 
Assiya's extraordinary request that he accompany them on their audience with a 
starcaster.  Her protectiveness, young Jeremy's plain adoration and, in his momentary 
cleanliness, the Captain's dynamic appearance into the front hall of the brickhouse were 
like Ill-timed Birds of Omen.  

	The Captain's leadership that brought remnants of the Mountain Clan safely into 
the Dominion of Aseur brought him into high esteem with even the most faithful of the 
younger Underheads and for a moment the Elder nursed the fear that the young, 
unknown Captain would eclipse his role of leader in this present wave of popularity.  His 
fear soon turned into uneasy surprise as the Captain acted with enviable grace and 
declined the seats of honour at the head of the table, and took his place instead between 
the dark man with the fair hair and the dark man with the scarred face. 

	"Well, well," Trajan said, tugging at the revolver in the holster that Deyron had 
strapped round his waist, "ugly things, aren't they?  I didn't realize you have enough 
Nukes in your pockets to make Jackal hand over one of his treasures!" 

	Deyron squinted at him, grinning slyly.  "It sometimes takes more than Nukes to 
make a hireling see reason, a full flask of crystalcrest wine for instance."  

	"You astound me, Deyron," Trajan laughed.  "The best bargain of the galaxy!  So, 
Jackal what do you think of the wine?" 

	"Captain," Jackal declared with dreamlike contentment, "it is like drinking 
paradise, and I am going to share it with absolutely no one.  The wine is for me alone."  

	"Might as well," Deyron murmured, "it is the last of our stock."

	The dinner proceeded with speeches of welcome, decorum and gratitude, 
followed by the toasting to each other's health.  At the head of the table where the 
Village Chairman officiated with the other prominent members of the Elder's clan, an 
atmosphere of solemn formality prevailed, in contrast to the left end of the U where 
Jackal's group formed their circle of more easygoing and casual bantering.  

	Assiya, holding her seat of prestige at the left hand side of the Chairman, never 
for once seemed to lose sight of the Captain who, even when he was sometimes 
overshadowed by Jackal's sensational stories, was clearly the centre of attraction for the 
younger Cougars.  The Elder, sitting at the right hand side, never lost sight of that fact.  
When the end of the dinner was drawing near, he filled his glass and lifting it in his hand 
slowly rose from his seat.  Immediately the voices around the table faded away into 
silence. 

	"I would like to propose a toast," spoke the Elder gravely, "to Captain Ermiz who 
with such great courage and fortitude gathered our people together who were lost 
without a leader in the Great Divide.  He led them through the Hungry Plains with little 
food and resources, all the way south to Penari and at a very crucial moment refused to 
abandon them, sacrificing even a dear one to the enemy, and put our people timely on a 
ship out of harm's reach and brought them to safety on the shores of Aseur.  My people 
and I thank you, Captain, out of the bottom of our hearts." 

	A spontaneous warm applause erupted in the hall which lasted for long moments.  
Trajan took his glass and stood up.  All eyes were fastened, spellbound, on the Captain 
who looked less barbaric in his set of village clothes.  

	"And I thank you, Great Perceptor," he said, raising his glass in respect to the 
Elder.  "In moments of great distress and hardship I looked upon your people and saw 
their unfading integrity and perseverance.  I learned from Jeremy, your pupil, the qualities 
of remaining true to one's beliefs and to one's people.  Even if only a few were to live on, 
they shall live because they carry within them seeds of hope and promise for a better 
future.  If a leader is able to breed and suckle such attributes in his people, then I pay my 
homage to you, Perceptor, and thank you sincerely, for letting your people be my source 
of inspiration during a hard and dangerous journey." 

	"Captain," the Elder said astonished, "you speak with the speech of the 
highbred."

	A second applause thundered through the brickhouse and all attendants rose to 
their feet to pay their tribute to the erect, stately figure at the head of the table, for this 
moment still basking in the light of his charisma.  The carafe did another round and all 
glasses were refilled.  Tongues and spirits were loosened by the wine and in the ensuing 
merrymaking Assiya and the Elder took their departure from the Chairman.  They 
signalled to Trajan to follow them and he in turn summoned Deyron.  

	At the door he told them:  "Deyron will come along as my lieutenant."  Before 
anyone could comment, Jeremy's voice chirped in from behind: "Can I come too?" 

	Trajan gazed questioningly at the Elder and the latter said in an unyielding voice:  
"This is hardly a pleasure excursion.  A Cougar like you should remain at his post tonight, 
and that is an order."  

	"The Perceptor is right," Trajan said. "Guarding the village is equally important 
and you can watch over Nagus.  Be sure that he is here when I come back."  He winked 
pleasurably. "Is that agreed, Sergeant?"

	Slipping on their hooded cloaks they crossed the Village Circle, went up the slope 
and entered the southern fringe of woods.  The swollen moon, weaving filigrees of 
creamy light through the leafage of the trees, was their only source of illumination.  The 
Elder went in the lead and he obviously knew his path well.  They threaded their way 
through thicker and taller woodland that flourished along both sides of the frontier.  
Trajan and Deyron could not perceive any clear definition along the route where 
Dominion territory ended and Vesparan lands began but they noted that the Elder's pace, 
which was fast and brisk, slackened with caution at certain points.  

	At various landmarks he paused and peered attentively at the shadows in the 
night, and listened to any movement in the dark.  Finally a surge of hills rose and as they 
carefully skirted along the slopes the moon beams projected their black cloaked shapes 
like assassins fleeting on the prowl.  They heard the whisper of the Elder:  "The cave of 
the hermit starcaster is just around the bend."  

	True enough, rounding a sharp corner, they came upon a faint stream of light 
which seemed to spring out like water from a hole in the ground.  "He is waiting for us 
inside," the Elder whispered.  Trajan keyed his optic strip and received a code back that 
Deyron had understood.  The three of them entered the cave through a ladder while 
Deyron maintained watch outside.  

	There was barely room in the interior of the cave to swing a cat, or even a leg to 
that effect, and it was poorly lit by a single oil lamp hanging from a hook hammered into 
the rock ceiling.  Under the yellow cone of the light they soon perceived that the 
starcaster was indeed very old and blind as a bat.  Nevertheless, he sensed the number of 
his guests and with a voice, amazingly clear and resonant coming out from such a thin 
and age-beaten throat, he offered them greetings.  

	"Who is familiar with the Legend?" he asked.  

	"I am," answered Assiya, "but not entirely."  

	"When I was young they taught me a perverted version," the Elder said in his 
turn.

	"And what about the other," said the starcaster turning his white, pupilless eyes in 
Trajan's direction.  

	"I know nothing at all," Trajan said. 

	"A young man!" the starcaster broke out.  "What is a young man doing in the 
company of his elders?"

	"Learning, Master," Assiya put in quickly, "learning the mysteries of the past just 
as we want to."  

	"This is a singular occasion!" the starcaster stated. "Young folk nowadays can 
only see their interests as far as their arms go.  Come closer, my boy, I want you near me 
as I entreat you, my good woman, to tell the Legend in your way as you have been 
taught." 

	Assiya told the history to the little assembly as she told it to Conrad on the day 
when they left behind a similar, only more commodious and cozier burrow than the 
starcaster's.  When she stopped speaking, the starcaster addressed the Elder: "And you, 
my good man, in what light do you see the Legend?  Do you agree with the story of the 
woman?"

	"I was told the Legend as a thing of great evil and not even with such clarity as I 
have heard it now coming from your lips, Assiya.  I am beginning to wonder whether I 
was wrong all along." 

	"Yes," the starcaster said, "she has spoken with such zeal as if she had seen it all 
with her own eyes.  When you were young, were you there at the moment of the Great 
Devolution?" 

	Assiya lowered her eyes before the intensity of the blind starcaster.  "No, Master," 
she said softly, "I heard the story from my forebears."

	"And from the tone of your voice with which you told your story, your forebears, 
without a shadow of a doubt, must be fervid admirers and followers of Lord Filimon 
Schurell, whose whole retinue was annihilated during the Conception."

	"What is the Conception?" the Elder asked.  

	The starcaster raised his white eyes, on which the light of the lamp cast no 
reflection, to the ceiling as if in prayer. 

	"When the first Peregrinator, Lord Filimon Schurell, decided to interfere and save 
the world he saw lying in ruins at his feet, he did so on a perilous Oath.  Standing on the 
ice ridge with the Snow Woman, he took a handful of snow from the slope and with a 
shine of blue he transformed it into an oval garland of snowroses with a thorn in the 
centre.  'Snow Woman," he said, 'heed my words.  The thorn in the heart will remind us, 
Travellers, of the hazardous course we are going to embark on.  If we fail, the curse of 
your race will taint and follow us through the millennia but if we succeed, a new breed of 
Symbions will soar through the Universe!"

	And with this Oath, the Lords Laris of Spatium landed on earth for the purpose 
of bringing about something wonderful, and also perilous: a new breed of Peregrinators.  
They failed and were damned.  They failed to instill humanity with their own noble 
qualities; worst of all they failed to envision and prevent the disastrous disunion of their 
mightiest Core from the young Lord Trajan Schurell.  The Union was to form the 
Conception.  Their Cores are the nuclei of their powers; more cannot be said about the 
mystifying chemistries joining a Lord Laris with his Starlight Force because it is beyond 
humanity's comprehension, but for one fatal point:  a Core on the loose beyond the 
control of a Lord Laris is a most deadly force.  What you see around you, remnants of a 
prosperous past, is the result of its terrible fury. 

	"The Great Devolution devastated one hemisphere of Earth which is now known 
as the uninhabitable Great Barrier Smaze, where there only dwell the Shadows of Terror.  
And as immediate products of the Devolution are the scattered paramountcies and 
dominions across a diminished region what was once known, in my old tongue, as Africa, 
North America, Europe and Asia Minor from which humanity is still reaping its bitter 
fruits, and so will it continue until the Annulus of Conception is brought to an end."  

	"How can we bring about the End of the Conception?" Assiya asked.  

	"WE cannot," the starcaster replied most firmly, "but only a very powerful Lord 
Laris, and only if the Core that Roams Free returns to earth."  

	Assiya and the Elder quickly exchanged looks.  Assiya then went ahead to press 
further:  "Has the Core returned?  Weeks ago, standing on the Hungry Plains, I have seen 
pictured against the nightsky an awe-inspiring performance of the stars.  Master, you must 
have felt it too, how their brilliance seemed to drench the earth like hot, golden rain.  It 
occurred only for a night but it must have been an occurrence of great significance."  

	"You have seen the Coming inscribed against the heavens, my good woman.  The 
Core has indeed returned to complete the Annulus of Conception, which will signal the 
end of an age as we know it now." 

	Both Assiya and the Elder stiffened in suspense and the Elder asked:  "What will 
such a terrible force inflict upon us?"  

	The starcaster rose to his feet, a broad-shouldered, formidable man despite his 
age, and leant on his staff as he spoke in a grave and thoughtful voice:  "A great deal of 
harm and vengeance if it was not contained, but since our environment and WE are all 
still intact you can be sure that it has been contained.  And the Prophecy doth say:  The 
Fallen Angels have forever abandoned earth but one task still remains to be done.  As 
they no longer wish to sully their hands with terran affairs, they are leaving the final 
fulfillment to the currents of destiny, and the currents may lead mankind to either 
salvation or ultimate destruction.

	"The Vessel containing the Mightiest Core is fragile, and it is surrounded by great 
and numerous perils of this world.  I can only see two courses: an endless tunnel of 
swirling black mist where even the phantoms live in fear and another, the Age of the 
Seedlings when they will come forth and unite the world with their New Knowledge."

	"Will the Seedlings require the guidance of their guardians?" the Elder enquired 
most urgently.

	The starcaster's lips formed a wistful smile. "The guardians will have a role to 
play, a small one perhaps, but the Seedlings will be guided by themselves primarily.  
However, such possibilities are still only specks of dust in the far future.  The crucial issue 
is now, as on the crossroad stands the Vessel, alone with the Core, and it is up to 
humanity to either kill it or save it.  Extinction has become a matter of choice.  I have 
spoken the words of the Forgotten Adherents."  

	In the ensuing pause the speakers fell into a subdued and disturbed frame of 
mind, and Trajan moved up from his corner where he had listened to the starcasting 
without uttering a word.  

	"These are only words," he said. "I refuse to accept them as truth unless you can 
offer me proof."  

	In the flickering light all faces turned to him like a tableau of masks, shocked 
reproach was written on two faces while the third retained its blind serenity.  

	"My boy, what has made you doubt my castings?"  

	The ceiling was so low that Trajan had to stoop, a posture which made him appear 
fierce and grim like a wolf about to growl. 

	"For instance," he said in a challenging voice, "the Legend tells us that the whole 
court of Lord Filimon Schurell was eliminated.  What made you so sure that there were 
no survivors?" 

	The starcaster spread his hands. "I am not sure.  This is only what the Legend tells 
us and coming down from several mouths it has a way of distorting itself.  There could be 
survivors and, in the same token, there could be not.  However, I agree that you need 
proof which you can see with your own eyes.

	"Many have been persecuted for holding their adherence with the Lords Laris and 
there are some who have the courage to preserve their memory in stone.  Not far from my 
cave, further down south, in the Knoll of the Sore Thumb, you will find underground 
caverns where the Adherents used to hide and you may find traces of their existence 
which may shed light on your doubts." 

	The starcaster sat down on his seat and as his mouth closed so his eyelids folded 
over his sightlessness, intimating the termination of his audience.  They crept towards the 
exit, first the Elder climbed up the ladder and Assiya followed him.  

	Trajan waited until he was entirely alone with the starcaster in the cave.  He then 
swung round and stood before him, bending low over the aged man's face and grabbed 
his shoulders hard. 

	"I want to ascertain whether you spoke the truth, Master," he said softly, "and 
there is only one way.  I have to impose my will by force since time does not permit me to 
behave with correctness.  Keep your eyes closed, don't think of anything, just let yourself 
drift, don't resist.  In this manner I will not be able to harm you.  You will not know me, 
but I will know you, every parcel of your sentience, every cell of your mind.  Know that I 
have never probed any being before with such wilful invasion of privacy."

	"I sensed in some way," the starcaster said, without moving his body or opening 
his eyes, "that there was something extraordinary about you."

	"You are an Adherent yourself, starcaster," Trajan said and a filament of silver 
blue was throbbing under his fingers, "someone who was close to the retinue, not of Lord 
Schurell, but of Lady Artgan, with your undying feelings of love towards her.  All died 
in the Conflagration, massacred by a band of assassins, Lord Schurell, his lady, son, 
daughter, cousin, Lady Artgan, and Starglory was hurled spinning across space through 
an IsoMén Equation forged by its own energy, and its terrible light blinded your eyes.  
And like on Aberon, it devastated and encapsulated almost half of your world in an 
energy field.  That's how Starglory was brought to Iucari-Tres, at such a heavy price, I 
know now."  

	Trajan stepped back and the starcaster, freed from his tremendous hold, seemed to 
sink further on his seat against the wall.  His eyes were still closed, his words hovering on 
his pallid lips:  "But not enough to know how to bring the Annulus of Conception to 
fruition."

	"No, not yet."  Trajan turned and set his foot on the first rung of the ladder.  The 
starcaster lifted his right hand like a past and forgotten gesture of benediction.  

	"My Lord, you have fearsome powers of your own but be forewarned, your 
inexperience with the workings of a devious world could be your undoing!" 

	His head dropping onto his breast he seemed to collapse into slumber, as if he was 
heavily fatigued by the experience.  

* * *

	After Trajan emerged from the mouth of the cave into the freshness of the night 
air, they set upon their return trip without delay, and no further words were exchanged 
since it was a late and treacherous hour for border crossings.  The strain of the excursion 
and the late time prevented them also from holding any further discussions when they 
safely arrived in the village, and each went straight to their separate cabins.  

	Back in their own cabin Assiya lit a candle and Trajan sat down at the table, lost 
in his thoughts.  After moments of silence he asked: "Has the Elder gone to bed?" 

	Standing by the curtained window Assiya confirmed: "He has.  If you want to 
talk in private, you can do so now.  He won't leave you alone tomorrow, for sure, because 
this starcasting has left us with more questions than answers."  

	Trajan stood up and took out the Frame from the sleep alcove.  Back at the table 
he also took out the microcom from his pocket and setting both devices up before him, he 
touched them to life with light fingers movements while Assiya watched in silent awe. 

	"I've put in the coordinates of the old starcaster's hole in my own little Frame and 
further down south, he said, is the Knoll of the Sore Thumb.  This Frame of yours is 
flickering with all kinds of mystifying symbols.  If this thing came from your Adherents, 
then in their time they must have been more advanced in technology.  I need to find out 
more.  Tomorrow I want to explore the caverns the Starcaster has mentioned."  

	"Captain?" Assiya moved swiftly to the table and Trajan held up a hand.  "No 
arguments.  I have to go and see, and see it for myself.  But for the moment, pull up a 
chair, Assiya.  All this starcasting is now behind us.  I know as much as you about the 
Legend but I want to know more, and the truth.  Firstly, who are you?"  

	Assiya raised her dark eyes and looked at him full face for the very first time since 
their meeting in Merinburg.  "My parents were Adherents of Lady Schurell's entourage, 
and in due time I would have become an Adherent too, closely connected with the 
entourage of the young Lord Trajan Schurell, whom I often admired from afar.  The old 
starcaster was right when he surmised that I could have seen the foul deed carried out 
with my own eyes.  I was there but not near enough, and I witnessed the Palace of 
Lumentor, and all lands in the vicinity, going up in smoke from a far distance."

	"How do I fit in with the name Schurell?" Trajan asked in a demanding voice.  

	Her face twisted with old hidden grief.  "You have captured the semblance of the 
young Lord Schurell in your features, your bearing and even the manner by which you 
exercise your leadership although I also see many differences of character: you possess a 
more affable disposition, you laugh and joke more readily, with such endearing charm.  
Your refinement and your eyes most of all, must have come from your mother's side but 
when I saw you for the very first time at the fountain of the Chine Residence, I knew 
that before me stood a direct descendant of Lord Trajan Schurell!" 

	"But how can that be? They were all killed." 

	"I can't explain it," Assiya said helplessly, "but I know it is true.  By some miracle 
you were brought into the world."

	"Have you ever heard the name of Krystan Schurell?"  

	"No, I think not," Assiya answered hesitantly, "although I would think 
somewhere yonder there must still be kindred of Lord Filimon Schurell." 

	"There must be, for I too am called Schurell which is my true name." 

	"You have been given the name," Assiya whispered, "of Schurell?"

	"Well yes," Trajan leaned his head on his hand, staring into the sputtering flame of 
the candle which accentuated the bleakness of his face. "Captain Commander Trajan 
Schurell of the Spacio Command at your service, Mistress.  What more do you wish to 
know?" 

	"Nothing more," Assiya said.  She stood up from her chair and went to him.  
Standing by his shoulder she reached out with her old hand and he said nothing as she 
gently smoothed his hair.  Massaging his shoulders she softly spoke:  "Relax, Captain, 
Trajan Schurell the Younger, you are tired and confused, but it will pass.  You will know 
in due course your destiny and the secrets of your origin, and Assiya will always be at 
your side.  This time she will not turn tail and run.  For all his mystical words, the 
starcaster was clear about one thing, that the completion of the Conception will determine 
the fate of the Seedlings."

	"Yes, the secrets of my origin, which is one of the reasons why I am here.  Now I 
know why your world and mine are linked.  They are linked by what the Schurells, the 
Peregrinators, did to yours and to mine.  But the story of the Conception is something 
new."

	Assiya smiled, feeling how his tension started to unwind under the tender care of 
her hands, glimpsing the truly alien lacewing traceries on the skin of his back.  "The 
Conception by which a human being can be Host to a Starlight Force, for you see Lord 
Trajan Schurell, the Elder, was the product of a marriage between Lord Filimon and an 
earthling.  He was therefore part terran, and so are all Seedlings, remote descendants of 
the Lords Laris.  We still have hopeful seeds of humanity." 

	"I am not an earthling."

	"I see it."

	"Are you wondering," Trajan murmured with half closed eyes, "what has befallen 
the Core, as you call it, if it has returned according to the starcaster's prophecy.  Where it 
is now, and who the Vessel is who has it?" 

	"Since you came down from the Great Divide, I think I have a good idea in 
whose custody it is now."

	A custody, Trajan reflected wryly, which was beginning to feel more and more 
like a duty, an obligation, a prophecy.  All the Schurells on earth might have been 
obliterated but there was still a Schurell active and living on a planet space voids away, 
dear Adilar.  He longed to be home, to be back within the fertile ecosphere of the Shining 
HeliĆ, to smell again the fragrant fernwoods of Verimur, to enjoy the cityscape of 
brilliant Frairimont on the Greater Odur Sea, to see one blazing star in the nightsky, 
Vestre, and a second fainter one farther away, Calitre, to dwell once more among his 
commanders and his kind in perfect peace and harmony in his world, His Iucari-Tres.  But 
there was still the issue of the Opposite End of the Equation.  And one more thing.  
Starglory blasted through space as a result of a Conception brutally interrupted, but it did 
not come alone.  It brought, dragged along Someone and part of his mission was to find 
that Someone who holds the key, the only key to complete the Conception.  

	He shook off his inertness and stood up from his chair with such suddenness that 
Assiya was momentarily taken aback. 

	"Tomorrow, no, it is today already. It is absolutely imperative that I go and take a 
look at the caverns across the border today."  

	"Don't go on your own," Assiya urged him, "take someone with you."  

	"You are right," Trajan grinned, suddenly filled with high spirits. "I think I'll take 
my steed Brightloft with me."  

	"That is not what I meant!" Assiya scolded him. "Take a guide with you, someone 
who knows the terrain better. Whatever, or whoever you are, you are still a stranger in 
these lands.  Take Conrad, he is dying to do something for you and he is a good scout."

	"You are right again," Trajan agreed quasi-astonished, "I think Brightloft is strong 
enough to take the two of us on his back.  Rouse him because I want to leave the village 
before dawn, before everybody else wakes up."