At the Queen_s command

Owen looked back, but aside from the dancing officer, he could see none of the other soldiers. Laughter echoed from the hillsides, and Owen braced himself for screams of terror.

"What will happen to them?"

"Do you care?"

"They are men like myself, I must care."

More deep laughter thrummed through Owen. "You say that because you think you must. You think yourself superior because you have risen above the other animals. Even though these men wished to kill you, you think you must care because you share a kinship. But, in truth, you do not care. You fear you will die as they will. Admit it."

Owen nodded. "And I pity them."

"You tell yourself it is pity, manling, but you disguise the true reason. Guilt. And this is what sets you apart from the animals, this feeling of guilt. Your most useless emotion, sour and bitter, yet one you are trained to accept as inescapable."

Owen did feel guilty. Whatever pain and terror the Tharyngians would know was the result of his leading them onto the winding path. But he had not forced them to follow. They were rational individuals who had made a decision to follow. They were fully responsible for their own actions, and the consequences fell fully on their heads.

The creature leaned forward. "You are a bright one, aren't you? You have figured it out."

Owen shook his head. "Guilt is not useless. Without it, we would do horrible things again and again. We would be lawless."

"You would be wild, as you once were, free to own the world. Free to be our favored pets again, instead of a pest which must be exterminated."

"I don't understand."

"No, you refuse to let yourself understand." The creature sat back. "You believe you know the way of things, the way things were intended. In your creation stories, man knows the forest-the garden- existed before he did. He places himself above it, to hide his fear of it.

"No matter. You wish to know what will become of them." The arms swung wide. "They will know the greatest pleasures, and then the greatest fears. They will be alone, and terrified, and after we have drained them of all emotion, they will die. Their flesh and blood will nourish our bodies as their emotions feed our souls."

Owen watched the Tharyngian officer and read the pure delight on his face. He turned away again. "It won't be fast, will it?"

"Excruciatingly slow."

"And us?"

The giant creature stood. "I find myself in your debt. Not sufficiently that I can release you, but if you would perform for me a service…"

"What? Lure more in?"

"You will do that, and more." The creature swept a branched hand down, clearing away snow and a layer of wet leaves. He revealed an oval sheet of ice. "I require a drop of your blood, and for you to peer into this frozen glass."

Owen nodded.

The creature extended a branch and probed his wound in a manner not wholly gentle. Owen winced. The creature offered no apology and dabbed a drop on the ice. The rest of the blood, as nearly as Owen could tell, sank into the branch and a green bud rose in its place.

"Look, manling."

Owen knelt beside the translucent ice, hands on either side, and stared down. It shifted to a mirror. For a heartbeat he did not recognize the reflection. Ragged beard, unkempt hair, sunken eyes. Captivity had not been kind. Then the ice cleared. He saw his wife, Catherine, standing, staring at him, her face full of hatred.

"No, Catherine!" He thrust a hand forward to touch her, but his fingers crumpled against the ice. It became translucent again, the droplet of blood having vanished.

Owen looked up. "She doesn't hate me."

"It is not what is, but what will be, because of choices you make." More laughter rippled up through the ground. "Her love withers, but you shall remain ignorant until too late."

Owen's stomach collapsed in on itself. He pounded his fist against the ice, trying to shatter it. Neither it nor his hand broke, but he fervently wished for either. He wanted to destroy that future, and if he hurt himself, so much the better.

Because, as the image became clear, and as he saw the woman's face emerge from shadows, for a heartbeat, just a heartbeat, he'd feared it was Bethany. And when it turned out to be his wife, just for another heartbeat, he felt relief.

Quarante-neuf pulled him back upright, then faced the creature. "You would have the same of me?"

"No." The creature reached out and touched the green bud to Quarante-neuf's forehead. In the space of three heartbeats the bud flowered fully, leaves sprouted green and huge, then became red and gold and dropped away.

Quarante-neuf staggered, sinking to his knees. "I understand."

Owen turned. The pasmorte' s face had become a lifeless mask. "What did you do to him?"

"Accelerated a process which you had begun." The creature stepped back. An avenue opened to the east. "I know you both. I know your lives will be full of misery. I shall enjoy that, therefore I shall let you live."

Owen stood and helped Quarante-neuf up. "You said that what I saw was the future. Is there a way to change it?"