“Ser Lanier,” the Chinese delegate called, smiling broadly and inclining her head as she sat beside Karen on the free-form couch. Her face was wreathed in fine sun-wrinkles; she was small and round, matronly, probably ten years younger than Karen. “You seem pensive. Are you worried about this conference?”

“No,” Karen said, smiling reassurance. “Personal difficulties.”

“Your mind should be at rest,” the delegate said. “All will go well. We are friends already, even those whom I worried about.”

“I know,” Karen said. “It’s nothing, really. Don’t trouble yourself.” He’s doing it to me again, she thought. I cannot get away from him. She closed her eyes and forced herself to sleep.

29

Thistledown

Korzenowski’s partial located Olmy in the fourth chamber forests of Northspin Island two days after Lanier’s arrival. Downloaded into a cross-shaped tracking probe, the partial searched the fourth chamber with infrared sensors and located seven hundred and fifty humans. Most were in groups of three or more; only seventy were solitary, and only two, across half a day of activity, showed signs of deliberately avoiding company. The partial analyzed the heat signatures of both of these possibilities and settled on the one most likely to be a self-contained homorph.

Under any other circumstance, this kind of search would have been unthinkable, a gross invasion of privacy. But Korzenowski knew the importance of having Olmy speak with Mirsky. And he needed Olmy for the upcoming Nexus debate on the reopening of the Way. The Engineer could no longer completely oppose that project; Mirsky’s arguments were too persuasive, however bizarre. How could one deny the requests of gods, even if they existed only at the end of time?

It was not the partial personality’s duty to analyze these problems. It flew above the valley floor to hover near Olmy’s campsite, and then projected an image of Korzenowski with the appropriate picts revealing its status as an assigned ghost.

From Olmy’s point of view, Korzenowski seemed to walk out of the forest, his face wreathed in a smile, his eyes catlike, piercing. “Good day, Ser Olmy,” the ghost said.

Olmy pulled himself away from the flow of Jart information and hid his all-too-human irritation at being found. “You’ve gone to considerable trouble,” he picted.

“Something extraordinary has happened,” the ghost informed him. “Your presence in the third chamber is required.”

Olmy stood by the tent, unsure of his emotional state for the moment, neither moving nor picting nor speaking.

“A decision is to be made regarding the Way. Your presence is requested by my original.”

“Is this a Nexus summons?”

“Not formally. Do you remember Pavel Mirsky?”

“We never met,” Olmy said. “I know who he was.”

“He has returned,” the ghost said, rapidly picting the few salient details.