Lanier raised his brows, not understanding. Mirsky continued without elaboration.

“But I come to talk about you, and why I came back to you. I owed you a debt. I could not discharge that debt across all of time. In some of my forms, this debt did not bother me, since all my past was tucked away like an old book, unread. But when I knew I would return as my old self, the debt surfaced.”

“I don’t know of any debt.” Lanier felt the impulse grow, not just confession but a bursting, an exploding. He wanted to hold his head and keep himself together.

“A simple debt. I need to thank you.”

Tears came to Lanier’s eyes, unbidden, unwanted.

“You were decent. You did your work and did not ask for thanks. You are the reason I survived to make our long journey, and come back now. In every situation, there can be a seed crystal of goodness and decency, of sensibility. You were that crystal on the Stone.”

Lanier leaned his head back on the chair, tears streaming down his cheeks. Had it been in his character, he would have sobbed. He held those spasms in, but felt a release none the less.

“A simple thanks,” Mirsky reiterated.

How incredible that in all the time he had worked on the restoration, he remembered no one thanking him. Not even Karen, too close to see the need. He had sacrificed life and time for the people he had administered, yet because of his manner—a confident self-sufficiency—he had never been thanked, or because of some personal flaw could not remember the thanks. Perhaps he had never put himself in a position to be thanked. The release now was like the unwinding of an ancient spring that had pinched his vitals.

He lifted his head and stared at the Russian’s blurred face, embarrassed and grateful at once. “I was your enemy,” he managed to croak. He touched his face and was surprised to find old skin, soft and yielding.

Mirsky clucked his tongue, a startling mannerism in an avatar. “To have a decent enemy is a blessing beyond measure,” he said, rising. “I have disturbed your rest. I will go.”

“No,” Lanier said, lifting his arm. “No. Please. I do need to talk with you.” The fear and envy this man aroused had turned in a moment into a kind of love, a homecoming of feelings he would never have acknowledged four decades ago. With these feelings came a sudden wary, almost painful concern for Karen. What was she doing now? He needed to speak to her, too. His skin…so old!

“Shall we reminisce? There appears to be time enough now, and may not be later.”

Mirsky nodded and sat again, leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped. The blandness had gone from him.