CLARION 23

said. "But my business isn't with you. Keep quiet while I have a chat with the great psi-player." The mocking tone infuriated Paul, but there was little he could do while Ogram held the black gun. He throttled his anger and leaned back in the chair.

"We need your help," Ogram went on, his eyes going back to Dorland. "The situation at home has gone from bad to impossible. Sabastian wants you to come back."

Another statement that made no sense to Paul. He and Dorland had left their homeworld of

Farrady three weeks ago to begin the tour, but he had been in daily contact with Trisha. She would have told him if any "situation" had developed that involved Dorland.

"High Elder Brill is turning out to be even worse than we thought," Ogram went on. "He's more destructive than all the other High Elders together. He's using Lord Tern's revelations as an excuse to commit the worst atrocities you can imagine. Sabastian says we have to stop him." Ogram paused, his eyes remaining fixed on Dorland. "We sent a man into the sacred chamber. Cleve

Quinton." He nodded. "Yes, I thought you would remember Cleve. He was a good friend of mine." Dorland spoke for the first time, his voice low and flat. "Cleve went to the chamber?"

"Like I said, we're desperate. Cleve saw something in the chamber that made him lose his mind. Then the deacons killed him."

A long silence drew out. Paul waited, gripping the arms of his chair, his eyes on Dorland. Lord Tern. High Elder Alban Brill. The religious implications were obvious enough, but Paul was sure he had never heard the names before.

When Dorland spoke again, his voice was

strained, the words hesitant. "Sabastian—he is well?"

24

William Greenleaf

Ogram flip-flopped a hand. "As well as can be expected at his age. He lost a leg three years ago fighting his way out of a trap the deacons left for him. A doctor from Fairhope fitted a wooden peg for him. He gets by."

Dorland's eyes dropped to his hands. "Blackburn?"

"Ah, yes. Olaf is still with us. Not K-amer, though. He and Brit Jones were pinned to the God Wall last year."

Something like a sigh escaped Dorland's compressed lips. Then: "My father knew violence would break out eventually. His main goal was to prevent it."

"High Elder Brill started it, not us," Ogram said defensively. "You should know that. Sabastian says you're the only one who might be able to find out what Brill is up to. He says your early training will help you find a way to stop him." He paused, watching Dorland. "You ran out on us once. There's no reason to think you would come back now. But Sabastian says you're our last hope. He also says that you have to come back on your own. He doesn't want me to force you."

Paul issued a grunt of humorless laughter.

"That's why you brought the gun?"

"I brought the gun to make sure nobody tried to stop me until I could get my piece said."

"You've done that. Now you can get out."

"I'm waiting for the answer."

"His answer is no—"

"You're probably right," Ogram said. He slumped further down in the chair with his legs straight out in front of him. Crossed at the ankles. The black gun was held loosely in his lap. The tension in his, face gave way to a look of heavylidded unconcern. "But I have to hear it from the great psi-player himself."