The Eye of the Avatar

by BT

Fanfic based on A Distant Soil, by Colleen Doran

* * *

Seren woke when the computer signaled with a Crystal energy-pulse tuned to alert his mind and no other. D'mer, asleep but still within mind-touch, stirred in response to Seren's waking.

Seren returned a similar impulse to the computer, the signal to shut up, but D'mer was awake.

What's wrong?

Someone's put a message on my private circuit. Rienrie, perhaps. It's not my Rieken code. I'd have to answer that. He opened his eyes to look at the timepiece set into his bed, and sighed aloud. We might as well get up.

D'mer's body, Kimarian-hot against his, did not move. You've got Concordat sessions today. Should I come with you?

No, It'll be formal proceedings. You can't protect me from boredom, and it would annoy the Hierarchy needlessly.

Weapons were not permitted in the Concordat precinct, which made D'mer's presence there as the Avatar's bodyguard both a conspicuous flaunting of privilege and an insult to everyone, especially the Hierarchy. The Lady Sere had not been amused on any of the previous occasions, and her revenge could be painful.

Are you going to see what your message was? D'mer wrapped an arm around Seren's waist and began nuzzling at his collarbones.

Not yet. Not if you keep that up.

D'mer did not stop. Oh, good...

* * *

One of the Avatar's duties was to attend formal sessions of the Concordat of which Ovanan was the principal and directing member, which took place offplanet aboard the Siovansin in a vast and intentionally impressive meeting hall. A complex of smaller rooms was provided for the attendees as well and during the session's recess Seren wanted solitude away from the constant scrutiny of ambassadors and Hierarchy members alike.

He thought he'd found it in the Azurite Room: the blue-green lighting didn't suit all temperaments or physiologies, but Seren enjoyed it. Seated on a bank of cushions under a thicket of floating frond-plants, enjoying the airflow's illusion of a breeze, he ate a lunch of treefruit and pastries and hoped to remain undisturbed.

When he heard voices outside, he tightened his shields, but it was too late to escape.

Hierarchy members also had access to any and all Concordat facilities. Eshi and Sere and Vlethe, deep in their conversation, ignored the room's lighting and appointments, and in fact seemed too preoccupied to take any notice of established occupants.

"... Hriat wants it introduced next session," said Vlethe, aloud. Hierarchy members' conferences were generally aloud, since few of them used telepathy with each other and fewer wanted to be known to do so.

Seren did not immediately call attention to himself from within the floating plants, for the mention of Hriat, a particularly ambitious Concordat world, put his mind into glazed retreat. Besides, he hadn't finished his lunch yet. The day's second meeting session would be just as long as the first and he was still hungry. Eating in Hierarchy company turned his stomach, besides being impolite. He tried to ignore the three voices.

"Innil of Hriat is a terrible bore," yawned Eshi. "She's just looking after her power base at home, anyway. I thought you had something interesting to tell us."

"Ambassador Innil is concerned about the trade balance," said Vlethe, "and so am I. She is correct in pointing out a danger to it here."

Sere's voice was ripely malicious, but amused: "You don't want any changes in your revenues, Lord Shipping Master." Vlethe owned a third of Concordat shipping and manipulated the rest.

Her tone caught Seren's attention as a warning. The politicking meant little -- he would certainly hear all the details fit for Concordat ears at the official session -- but that self-satisfied delivery said that she was planning something. Seren didn't like it.

"You know Innil has Vinyr's backing over Marrone. And Allem's," replied Vlethe.

"She doesn't have mine, yet," noted Eshi sweetly.

"But will she?" asked Sere. "It might be worth your while, this time."

"Why so eager?" Eshi's voice asked sharply. "What do you know?"

There was a languid rustle of gesture. "Eshi, daarrlliing," purred Sere, "I'm not at liberty to divulge everything I know."

She'd pitched the words a shade too strongly for just two listeners, and Seren's spine crawled. She might be saying more than one thing to more than one person. The Lady Sere's eyes and ears were very acute, and the Avatar's mindshield hid only his thoughts. If she knew he was here, and she -- or the Hierarchy -- wanted something, that made her dangerous to him.

"Innil's going to ask for Ovanan intervention," said Vlethe calmly. "I think we should take the chance to annihilate Marrone."

Unchewed fruit turned bitter in Seren's mouth. If that was the point...

"Oh!" breathed Eshi. "Really! Can she carry it?"

"I'm sure she will," said Sere with pointed emphasis. "It's long past time for something like this, don't you think?"

"For once, my flower, you inspire me to agree with you," said Eshi, and giggled. The sound grated through Seren like exploding shards.

"I'm happy with anything that will keep the trade routes stable." Vlethe's stolid tone revealed no emotion. "This is no game, my ladies."

"But..." murmured Sere's voice, too satisfied, too smug, "... the prizes are so tempting! And at last one of these dreary Concordat sessions will be fun. Are we late yet?"

"Not yet," said Eshi. "Let's go anyway."

"In a moment," said Sere. "I do hope everyone's ready for the next move." Her tone warned Seren, though no warning was ever enough.

Pain was not thought; mindshields were transparent to it. The pure pain of neural overload flared through him from nowhere and everywhere. Sere's gift. It possessed his body for a unbearable instant, and left him sagging limply on the cushions.

He didn't bother to scream. His tormenter didn't bother to crow, or even look at him. When he became aware again of anything outside his body, all three of them were departing the room, Eshi chattering away in manic happiness, Vlethe silent, Sere sighing in pleasure.

The Avatar of Ovanan let himself fall and curled his body around the memory of pain, gasping with the physical reaction, with shame at being subject to Sere's whim, and with sheer annoyance that there was nothing to be done but to endure Sere, and the Hierarchy, for the indefinite future. He could not escape; he could not let them win.

But it hurt.

* * *

Marrone, it seemed, had developed some non-Crystal technologies that competed with Concordat worlds, and the Concordat lost little time in bringing itself into agreement with Innil of Hriat. Innil's motion to appeal to Ovanan for action was carried with the first vote. Seren -- nominally Ovanan's representative in the Concordat -- cast his dissenting vote and otherwise sat frozen with horror while Ovanan's Hierarchy graciously heard the appeal and promised to give it due consideration with all possible speed. Vlethe smiled, Lady Sere smirked and Niniri noted several interesting details pertaining to the matter.

They were taking this request seriously. Seren simply didn't see that Marrone's fledgling interplanetary navy was an imminent threat, and commercial competition from a world without Crystals seemed remote. Possibly it might eventually be useful. The Crystals on Ovanan were finite, however plentiful.

The closed Hierarchy session that followed was much, much worse. It was held in a smaller room lit the color of Ovanan's first sun and around a table -- as though anyone in the Hierarchy might need to take notes.

Vlethe presented his case, persuasively; Sere smirked; Eshi doodled silver-ink curlicues all over her portion of the table; Niniri pointed out, with cold logic, that bolstering any one Concordat member's trade interests was contrary to Ovanan and Concordat policy, but that she thought a demonstration of Ovanan's capabilities would be salutary overall.

No one considered Marrone's interests. Or Seren's.

The Hierarchy agreed that Marrone was a potential threat to Ovanan and a current one to the Concordat. Let it be rendered null and void. Let the power of Ovanan remove it from the face of the universe. Let the Collective be summoned for this purpose. Seven faces turned toward Seren: commanding, expectant, anticipatory...

"I don't believe this is a question of Ovanan defense," said Seren, clearly and calmly.

"Of course it is," replied Vlethe, as if speaking to a child. Seren, as the youngest in the room by thousands of cycles, felt like a child.

"It's Concordat defense," put in Allem, a little vaguely.

"We do have a duty to defend the Concordat worlds. It's the basis of the treaties," clarified Eshi.

"The issue was introduced over trading sectors!" protested Seren. "It's economic, not military. In that case, there are more appropriate means of control." Than destroying it all... The people there are swimmers, I think. "And I believe Lady Niniri is right in saying that we'd be favoring one Concordat interest over another. That's not a precedent we should set."

That sparked a brief discussion on which of Hriat's competitors might best be employed as a counterbalance to Hriatine monopoly.

"Lords and ladies," said Seren, still glacially calm, "this is beside the point. Marrone doesn't deserve -- isn't worth -- extreme measures. I don't wish to use the Collective for such a purpose. I don't believe it's in Ovanan's interest." He shut his mouth and stared at his folded hands, summoning the dignity of silence. He might be inexperienced, compared to the Hierarchy; he was not untrained.

"That's not your decision to make," said Niniri.

Seren raised his eyes to look at her, at all of them. "Isn't it?" he asked gently. They could not raise or use the Collective without him. Whether he could do so without them was another question entirely, for another time, not to be thought of while he was under Hierarchy scrutiny, even under his strongest mindshield.

A somewhat surprised Vlethe started to bluster, "We've told you--"

"He'll come round," said Sere, sweetly. Her voice made Seren want to flinch, inside his expressionless face and telepathic shields. He thought she'd let the others build the argument, perhaps even finish it for her, but patience had never been the Lady Sere's forte. She smiled, and pain blasted through his body, holding his consciousness captive for as long as it lasted. Even when it was gone, fear was his warden.

Silence. Seren was glad to note that it was unbroken. He clenched his hands together, took a long breath, and waited. He couldn't think of anything to say that would be germane or useful for his purpose. He wasn't sure why he should oppose the destruction of Marrone, which meant nothing to him. He wasn't sure he could keep his voice steady if he spoke.

"Must you do that here?" asked Vinyr, irritably.

"It saves time." Lady Sere gave an elegant shrug.

"Perhaps. I'd like to try a more rational persuasion."

"Just as you like, of course," she conceded, still smiling. "Perhaps he'll be ready to listen to reason now."

"Lord Avatar," said Vinyr, turning to Seren, "You speak of the matter in terms of Concordat trade economics, as it was first presented. Perhaps you haven't had time to consider the effects of a planetary power that doesn't rely on Crystals."

Seren sat, still frozen. He'd do what they wanted in the end, he knew, but he didn't like to do the Hierarchy's bidding without a thought. He needed time to think after Lady Sere's games. "Then tell me."

"It's a military problem, in the long run. Marrone's ships and tools and weapons are built to be powered by common substances, fuels that are potentially infinite."

"They've few ships and no weapons worth mentioning," said Seren, "compared to the Concordat."

"That's how it is now. Give them time, and they'll produce more. If we don't control them, they could eventually overwhelm any power dependent on Crystals."

"Without Crystals, they can't challenge the Collective and the Avatar." Seren thought of the legends of previous Avatars, and of the shimmering Collective that he could sense, faint but constant, at the center of his universe. Could any other Ovanan -- even the Hierarchy members -- feel it at all? It seemed incredible that they could not.

"No," agreed Vinyr. "You take my point. The Avatar must take action."

"The Collective and the Avatar will be here at any time Marrone may become a true threat." Seren spread his hands flat on the table surface, not in the air where they might shake. "Do you take mine?"

Vinyr nodded in appreciation. "Not a bad argument, but not sufficient. Marrone has exported samples--"

"More than samples -- whole warehouses!" broke in Vlethe.

"Thank you, Lord Vlethe. Marrone is exporting its technology to some Concordat worlds. If those, also, acquire or develop weapons apart from Crystals, Ovanan is threatened from within the Concordat. The Concordat itself is threatened. We discourage others from doing it in the future by stopping Marrone now. Do you understand?" He laid this all out in a deliberate style which suggested no alternative.

"It's a matter of simple prevention," put in Allem.

"Is there any reason we shouldn't solve the problem quickly and neatly?" asked Eshi. "Does the Avatar doubt his own abilities?"

"No," said Seren, unaffected by the slur but annoyed at Eshi. She'd forgotten how to be disturbed by deaths other than Ovanan; all the Hierarchy had. The proposal for Marrone's destruction wasn't different from what Seren had done before, except in scale. Ovanan was protecting its own, and he was only the means. He should be used to it by now.

Working with the Collective didn't worry him, except for the problem of wielding it within the Hierarchy's circle without letting them see too much. "Aren't you afraid of the Collective? You should be. You're not an Avatar."

It didn't affect her composure. "You forget," said Eshi, with a wave of her silver fingernails, "we've done it before. We'll watch over you."

"Very carefully," said Niniri, with a severe look at Seren and Eshi alike. "However, I have no doubt of this Avatar's strength."

"When shall we do it?" The note of pleased anticipation in Sere's voice was unmistakable. "What about tomorrow, second shift?"

Seren froze, unable to speak.

"Will the Siovansin be in the Marrone system by then?" asked Niniri.

"I think it can be arranged," said Vlethe.

That would only be possible if they'd been heading toward Marrone since the Concordat sessions were convened. Seren wondered if he should be surprised.

"Then we're agreed." Vinyr's voice rose formally. "Until tomorrow, lords and ladies, Lord Avatar."

Seren waited, not moving from his place until everyone but Vinyr had left the room. "Vinyr." He felt numb.

"Lord Avatar."

"You -- all -- allow Sere to exercise her... whims, on me."

"Don't expect me to stop her. I can't."

Seren glanced up at the sculpted face of the second-oldest member of the Hierarchy. "I think you have some influence with her. A little."

"Yes?"

"I give you a warning. If I can't hold the Collective, perhaps because Sere distracts me, none of us will survive. You might prefer that we do. I'm not sure Sere cares."

Vinyr's gaze was cold and direct. "Do you care?"

"I must, mustn't I? If I don't, nothing's left." Seren stared back at him. "For any of us."

"Don't threaten me."

"The threat isn't from me. I'm predicting what will happen if Sere can't behave for the good of the Hierarchy. And Ovanan, of course."

"I see."

Seren rose and nodded, dignity thin but intact. That was what Vinyr should see.

"Until tomorrow morning, Lord Avatar."

Seren left without a word.

* * *

On the north octant of the outer hull of the Siovansin was a chamber known as the Eye of the Avatar. Its ceiling and upper walls were perfectly transparent, shielded from vacuum by fields triply ensured and maintained by their own Crystal generators. Unlike viewscreens, they showed exactly and only what lay beyond the Siovansin in space visible to the viewer's eyes.

Seren considered the room's title ironic. It was there that the Hierarchy and the Avatar performed energy changelings from the Collective when they were aboard the Siovansin.

The Avatar had a few prerogatives. Seren made sure that he and his escort of Ovanan guards -- it was, after all, a formal occasion -- arrived at the Eye room before any of the Hierarchy members, so he could enter it alone. It was longstanding tradition, from before the Avatar Selya's time, that the one who exercised the Collective as a weapon should do so in direct sight of the target. The Avatar, said a memoir left by one Avatar millennia before, must see and know what she did on behalf of Ovanan's people.

Marrone was a small but visible disk of land and water smudged with white cloud: the kind of world Seren's race and many others had first lived on. From this distant orbit he could sense, vaguely, the mass of life, some of it sentient, in the planet's water and air. Compared to Ovanan it was only a shadowy haze; even now, light-years away, the Collective life energy of the Ovanan world was clear in Seren's senses. It had illuminated his world for as long as he'd had mind-senses and Marrone's life seemed only a reflection of it, but now he had to see and sense Marrone as directly as possible.

He was here it make it die.

Seren noticed that he was sweating.

Had Etan done this same thing? Yes, long ago. It was afterwards that Etan had begun to choose and spare variants out of design instead of pity. He had wanted to find a way out of the cage the Hierarchy had built around the Avatar.

He'd tried once, and failed.

That didn't make it easier for Seren to play the Hierarchy's puppet now.

It was Seren's duty to try again, when he had some way of doing so, but until he found or made the right tool, he was trapped. He could not call or use the Collective without alerting the Hierarchy; and without them, no Avatar since Selya had been able to use it successfully.

At least he might learn, today, whether that was possible. Theory and Etan's study said Seren should be able to do it. The Hierarchy, of course, wanted him to depend on their circle when he worked with Ovanan's greatest power. Their games with him, even Sere's, were meant to keep him bound to them. They must continue to believe he was in their control, until he was ready to prove otherwise to all of Ovanan.

Seren stared out at Marrone, at the large moon and small satellite floating near it like captive stars. The Siovansin lay sunward from the planet, the better to see it and its destruction; the better to hide any warning of death in its sun's dazzle.

Seren knotted his fists and wished his stomach would stop aching. Etan had left Seren with little but the knowledge that change should be possible, and one way that it was impossible. Seren still obeyed the Hierarchy.

The door behind him signaled, a soft chime, and opened. Seren did not move, wrapping himself in telepathic shields that acknowledged nothing. Presently he heard a delicate cough. He did not turn but said, "Yes, Niniri. Are you all here?"

"We're here," said Vinyr. "Are you ready?" Niniri coughed deliberately again.

"Soon," said Seren, still gazing at Marrone. "Are we alone?"

"We and Ovanan," said Eshi in her high little merciless voice.

"I am Ovanan," Seren reminded them. He continued to watch the planet that shone blue against the utter dark. It would be kind, in a way, to strike quickly and completely. No one on Marrone would know anything amiss for more than a few minutes.

Earlier Avatars had killed whole planets without the Hierarchy's help, when they knew no other action would safeguard Ovanan. Seren should be able to do the same, but Marrone's death might be unnecessary. It was the Hierarchy, not Seren, who were convinced Marrone had to die.

Seren's tried to remember that perhaps this was the best course for Ovanan and the Concordat. That thought made it easier. The decision had been made in the name of Ovanan, and the Avatar was here to carry out its will.

To destroy a planet with all its life. The action would be Seren's.

It would happen whether Seren did it or not. He could refuse, and condemn Marrone to slower conquest and leave Ovanan virtually defenseless now and in the future. Seren found that he could not do that. He had no idea whether he was influenced by the fact that it would entail his own death.

"Well?" asked Niniri, not as impatiently as Lady Sere would have, but letting him know the patience with which she waited. "Is the Living Soul of Ovanan prepared to defend Ovanan?"

Marrone waited, Seren and unknowing. It had no more choice than Seren did today: slowly or quickly, not yes or no. He sighed, letting a long breath leave his lungs empty, and took a new one. "I'm ready. Are you?"

The seven behind him murmured assent. The Hierarchy -- these same seven -- had helped an Avatar destroy such a world a dozen times. Some of them would gladly have done it a dozen times more.

Seren felt the Collective stir as he opened his mind to it, and felt the Hierarchy catch the wakened energy as well, to smooth the flow through their circle of blended talents. They would feed it to him, but only an Avatar could direct it.

He'd touched the Collective before but he'd never tried to focus more than a fraction of it. Other Avatars' memories and descriptions of the experience were vague, and Seren wondered if he, too, would not be able to remember it afterward.

That was a question for afterward. Seren shook his head at the view of Marrone and spoke aloud, since he would not use the smallest thread of telepathy in this company, on this occasion or any other. "Lady Niniri?" Niniri was senior in the Hierarchy, and less cruel than some of them. When it suited her.

Niniri said nothing, aloud or in thought; there was only the surge of telekinetic power that was a seventh of the Collective life-force of Ovanan.

Seren let it flow into him for the first time ... and he was burning alive. His eyes were still open and there was breath in his lungs, but he was aware of nothing but the energy that blazed in his nerves. Racked with lightning, Seren steadied his heartbeat and fought to recapture his senses. The focus he found was internal: he tightened it and his nerves glowed hotter, but now he could see Marrone again. The planet would be his focus when the Collective was complete. Until it was, there was nothing to contain the energy but Seren himself. An Avatar.

He took a measured breath and said, "Lord Allem." He had only a faint recollection of planning, earlier, to put Allem into the circle immediately after Niniri, so their opposition would keep them apart and keep them at a distance from himself.

The burning in his nerves doubled as Allem entered the link; vision wavered again while the fire, unimaginably potent, ran through Seren without release. He had channeled large Crystals' energies in the past for practice and sometimes in earnest. This was vaster than any Crystal, unruly with life.

Seren gasped in an agony of concentration and held the control that should be impossible. This was his fate and his purpose. "Lady Eshi," he managed, aloud.

Eshi's share of the Collective surged through him like thunder through a storm, to the accompaniment of her tinkling little laugh behind him. Seren clenched his hands into fists and his knees into a standing posture.

The life energy of Ovanan flooded him, rising with each increment. After Eshi he could not count which parts of the power were already his and which still to be received. He could only use his will to hold the energy and keep it from consuming him while it overloaded the senses only an Avatar could understand. It was his soul, or he was its soul, and nothing else existed until he could encompass the whole of the raging torrent and find an equilibrium from which to turn outward to mind and body once more.

He found the Avatar's true talent then, the balance from which to channel the living energy of his race. He no longer had to fight for control: he was the control and the energy flow, and it was joy beyond ecstasy to feel the Ovanan Collective as it could be for him: lover and beloved, master and instrument, identity and will fused into one.

He was no longer aware of his body except as the location of some limited, distant senses: the Collective was his awareness. At some point he realized that he had sunk to his knees after all, and simply stayed there. It was not his eyes that saw the planet before him now, but the will of Ovanan that perceived it. There was life there, a meaningless reflection of the Collective's keen brightness. It was no bar to his goal. The shadowed life had no Crystals, no share in his expanded awareness.

The beauty of the blue globe itself, with its ponderously graceful large satellite and its quick tiny one, gave the Avatar only a moment's sorrow. Ovanan's Collective had been called to destroy a world and it would not be denied. The life he could sense, microbes to forests to cities of sentient beings, called up only a flash of regret amid the burning fire of Collective energy. The energy would spend itself, and he must channel it. Nothing else mattered.

He felt for the planet's core: dense liquid rock, glowing with its own heat but cool compared to the energies that made an Avatar what he was. The Avatar's body of flesh, unregarded, shivered in the Eye room of the Siovansin where Marrone floated in the sky. He saw nothing and knew nothing but the power of the Collective, whose senses made sight irrelevant while the power seethed and rose and found its goal.

The Avatar found his focus at the planet's hot core, where all solids melted in the incandescent pressure, where mass became weightless. Ovanan's energy blazed into the superheated fluid there, searing it with unendurable power.

And the heart of Marrone exploded.

For a timeless moment the world still floated in the Siovansin's sky, seeming untouched. The Avatar knew that soon the outer shell of stone plates and air and life would burst open, but even the star he held at Marrone's core could not vaporize it instantly. He felt the inner shock cwave of destabilizing storms, the expanding sphere of uncontainable energy...

Marrone shivered visibly, as if in the same dread and ecstasy that shook the Avatar. He felt the life there scream in pain and terror so deeply within him that he thought it blamed him. It might have been his bones, instead of the planet, that shuddered and cracked and tore into fragments, then into powder and expanding gas that blasted outward into vacuum.

Driven by the wrath and power of Ovanan's Collective. Channeled by the Avatar.

... by Seren.

Seren became aware of the Collective as something apart from himself, apart from the uncountable deaths of Marrone that joined other deaths in his soul. He would never be free of it; he'd never been free of it in his life. Now he knew it in his own soul as well as Ovanan's.

He noticed that his body on the Siovansin still existed. He felt the sweat that soaked his under-robe, the trembling of muscles locked too long into one position. Outside the Eye he saw dark space scattered with stars, and nothing where Marrone had been. Where it had held life, he sensed only emptiness.

Behind him, Seren heard rustling and a soft mutter or two, and he knew that the Hierarchy was still with him. The Collective's terrifying energy still coursed through him, sated in its purpose but held now at the balance point he had discovered was an Avatar's skill. He knew he could wield it again, with or without the Hierarchy. The powerful ecstasy of godhead could not be denied: he knew he would do it again, willingly, if Ovanan demanded. Until then, he must relinquish the power and endure its aftermath. That too was the duty of an Avatar.

It was not strictly prescribed by tradition that he must continue to view the space where Marrone had been, but Seren didn't bother to turn. He knew the Hierarchy would monitor the Collective as it subsided into quiescence, to keep it from brushing everything on the Siovansin with its annihilating power. In Seren's control it would not; but the charade must still be played. He was still the Hierarchy's tool, as well as Ovanan's.

The Avatar let his -- Ovanan's -- energy flow smoothly away through the Hierarchy's combined wills, until it was no more again than a shimmer at the edge of his awareness, illuminating his existence. It left grief behind for what Marrone had been, and doubt that soiled the exhilaration of using an Avatar's power. What was an Avatar, if an Avatar did this?

The Hierarchy was still behind him, waiting for him to release the kinetic mind-link that bound their circle to the Collective. With the last of his strength, Seren made sure his private mindshield would hold before he broke with the Hierarchy members, all at the same time in one rough withdrawal. It was the rudest gesture he could make and they would be affronted, but they would never know how much he meant it. Even if they did, none of them could touch him now. Not in any way that mattered.

"Get out!" he said aloud, hearing it as no more than a whisper in the room's air. He hated them for what they made him able to do.

"After all that, don't you feel... satiated?" asked Lady Sere's voice, amused. Her husky undertone would have been obscene to someone with the attention to hear it.

"He's exhausted," said Niniri, in quite matter-of-fact evaluation. That voice grated less on Seren, even if it did not soothe. "Go play with your toys, Sere. The Avatar isn't one of your variants."

"Get out!" screamed Seren, holding himself upright by will alone. It wouldn't last much longer. He heard someone open the door. They must be leaving. It would not restore Marrone.

Not all of them. "You'll have to rest in trance," said Niniri. "You know that. Shall I watch over you?"

"No... out..." he whispered, feeling himself lose all strength. The floor swayed uncertainly under him; he was going to fall flat on his face. He couldn't let Niniri touch him.

A new but familiar voice sounded from the doorway. "Are you... Seren!" The floor swayed again and smacked him. Rienrie's voice said, "Your pardon, Lady Niniri. I see that my patient needs me." When someone knelt beside Seren, he slitted his lids open enough to see a close-up of the Eye chamber's padded floor and a badly-angled view of Rienrie's anxious face.

Seren let himself go limp. It would be all right. Rienrie knew everything and had never betrayed him. The last thing he heard in the darkness was the healer's controlled voice: "Bring that floater here. D'mer and Alit, get him on it. Someone make sure the corridors are clear..."

* * *

Trance-sleep was dreamless. Seren woke once and Rienrie told him to rest, and that nothing was wrong and he'd wake again later.

* * *

When Seren woke in his own bed, Rienrie wasn't there, but D'mer was. The Kimarian sat quietly, his wide, dark eyes aimed unblinkingly at the opposite wall. Seren took a deep breath. Nothing hurt, but he was very tired.

D'mer started. "Seren?"

Seren tried to speak. In a flash D'mer was propping him up, offering a goblet of water. "Here, don't try to talk until you've cleared your throat. Don't use telepathy, Rienrie says. Do you feel all right?"

Seren sipped and coughed and managed to sit up. "Am I all right?"

"Rienrie said you were. But he left a potion for you."

"Oh?" said Seren. "What's in it?" He didn't really care.

"Sugars and spices and fermented treefruit juice, and a lot of bellflower distillate. It's disgusting." D'mer was trying to be cheerful. He knew that Seren normally hated medicine.

"I'd better have it."

D'mer stared. "Are you sure? That stuff's awfully strong."

"I'll trust Rienrie." Bellflower distillate would damp his mental talents, and Seren was grateful. There was a queasy near-pain sensation in the background of his consciousness. He didn't want to think about the Collective again yet. "Have you been watching me long, little flyer?"

D'mer gave him a cup of aromatic liquid. "Ever since we brought you back here. And I'm not a bird."

It was a reminder of an old argument between them, of affection given and returned. Seren drank off the liquid and grimaced at the taste. "I know. You're a sapient glider. Come here and stay with me, at least until I go back to sleep."

"Well... Rienrie said I wasn't to tire you."

The sense of this did not become apparent for a moment. Then Seren's mouth twitched; he was too exhausted to laugh. "Rienrie must have an exaggerated idea of my talents. Being god is more wearing than the ancients ever said. I don't think I could take an active interest right now even if ..." He stopped to breathe, letting air sigh deeply into his lungs, "even if it meant the Hierarchy would disappear." The sigh threatened to become a sob of longing, and he turned a hand up toward D'mer. "Just let me feel it's you."

"It's all right." D'mer set down the utensils and kicked off his sandals. "Whatever you want." He climbed into the bed beside Seren and pulled him close. "What do you mean, being god? Being the Avatar?"

"I suppose it's not Kimar's god," muttered Seren into dark-burnished hair.

"Kimra is a goddess, but it's not the same," said D'mer. "She's the mother of all."

Seren wasn't sure what that meant, and a vast distance seemed to be developing between him and all memory and sensation. "I thought it would be more... passive, but it was almost sentient. And then it was me."

"What do you mean?"

"The Collective... the life-force..." Muzzy with bellflower, Seren babbled. "I held the Collective and became Ovanan's god so I could kill... a planet... cracked it open and spilled it out... it's not there any more." He let D'mer hold him as the words brought back, with distant clarity, the actions that had drained him raw. "Everything on it is gone... dissolved... I shouldn't forget..."

He gulped. "Beren said that... Avatar Beren. She said not to forget what's done in the name of Ovanan. I have to remember!" But remembering Marrone sickened him.

"Seren?" Seren saw his revulsion reflected in D'mer's alarmed face and tried to stop feeling it. He clung to D'mer and said quite levelly, "Someone has to remember. I'm the one who did it. I have to know what I've done."

In played-back memory the cold exultation of will came back to him but not completely, as if it stayed on the other side of a transparent force field. "The Hierarchy didn't even feel it. They won't remember Marrone. But it was... I was... I didn't know what it would be like," he finished, weakly. "You don't know what I am."

"I don't care what you are." D'mer stroked his hair.

"You should," said Seren bitterly. "What if it had been Kimar? I'd have done the same thing."

D'mer moved beside him, uneasy but not pulling away. "I don't know what I'd do. It wasn't Kimar." D'mer's head turned up to look at him and the arms around Seren tightened. "I don't have to decide. Would you really? Could you?"

"I'd be able to," said Seren, voice flat. He lay back on the pillows, exhausted again by his outburst. "Don't leave me, D'mer. I won't let them hurt Kimar, or you. I promise."

"You know I'll stay with you."

"I wish Etan were here. He'd like to know that all his research was right. And all Rienrie's work... but I'm still in a cage."

"Shhh, go to sleep."

* * *

He woke again, feeling halfway normal, to sounds of D'mer moving around the bedroom suite. The glider frowned at him. "You should still be asleep."

"I'm hungry. How long has it been this time?" He hadn't dreamed, but the glassy feeling of the bellflower potion was gone, and so was the hysteria. He was not done with Marrone, nor Marrone with him, but he could think and breathe for the moment, and put off the memory. He could smell food, too; it must be nearby.

"Overnight." There were cooked spiced eggs and a lot of other things on the tray D'mer brought him. "A message came in on Rieken's code."

His most secure code was known only to two Resistance cells, to Seren (or rather Rieken) and D'mer, and to the Crystal heart of the routing computer. By now the message existed only in D'mer's head, which was even safer. Seren didn't put down his spoon. "From whom?"

"The code was Beys'. She wants a meeting with you as soon as possible."

He thought about it, swallowing sharp-sweet juice and feeling strength return. He should show Beys and the others that Rieken was active and awake. If he could get up at all, that was. He wanted to see them: Rieken, unlike Seren the Hierarchy's tool, believed wholeheartedly in his chosen course of action. "Did she say why?"

"She said it was important, and gave a rendezvous."

"When?"

"Last shift, today. I know you should go if you can. I've called for Rienrie."

Seren broke a yellow tuber into messy halves and spooned jam onto it before he speared a chunk to eat. "I'll go, but don't confirm it until..."

In the outer room, the door signaled. The avatar was supposed to be resting in trance, and no Ovanan, not even the Hierarchy, would defy Rienrie's orders easily. Except one. "Let Rienrie in."

A moment later the healer seated himself at a wave from Seren, eyes on the half-empty tray of food. "I see you're awake. Feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you." Seren put down his cup. "I mean to go out this evening. I have to see to what's going on, downlevels. As Rieken."

"Is that wise?"

"I don't think I have a choice."

Rienrie regarded him blandly. "Sometimes we don't."

"I made the choice when Etan left me here, if I ever had one." Rieken carried on the Resistance and had built himself into it.

"Everyone has choices. Some better than others."

That was an old argument too. He could have been the Hierarchy's tool and nothing else. He could have been dead. Seren said thoughtfully, "I was younger then. At the beginning I was only doing what Etan would have wanted, because he wasn't here to do it himself."

"You're still young." Rienrie wasn't as old as the Hierarchy members, but he had seen centuries that Seren had not.

"Not after Marrone." To Rienrie's look of inquiry he said, "The planet was called Marrone." His own voice rang impossibly casual in his ears, and then he saw that Rienrie didn't believe the tone any more than he did. "I shouldn't have done it. Now I know what it's like to use the Collective. Now I can do it again without them. I think."

"Ah."

"I didn't like doing it -- but I liked it too much."

"At least you know it," said Rienrie. "The Hierarchy doesn't care how much is too much." He motioned to D'mer, who carried away the meal tray. "Don't look so disappointed, Seren. You can have it back when I'm done with you, but first, be still for a moment and try not to think of anything."

It was a diagnostic command Seren had heard all his life, in exactly that same tone of voice. He dropped his shields, and sat still and naked for Rienrie and tried not to think. Uneasy images of Marrone expanded in his mind's eye, unbanishable, but he could ignore them if he was very careful about it.

Rienrie's scans were barely perceptible, a subliminal itch to body and mind. A short time later they ceased and Rienrie looked pleased. "You could use more rest, but you'll do for something like a stroll this evening. For my sake, take D'mer with you. His reflexes aren't in shock."

"Is that what it is?" Seren shrugged. "I'll be careful."

"You'll be careful or you'll be caught out," said Rienrie. "I know you have to do it. I wouldn't stop you if I could. But be careful, or you'll waste everything Etan accomplished, and everything you've done yourself."

"Myself..." Seren felt his fragile peace slip askew. "I've..."

"Steady, now. You made the only choices you could. Steady, or you'll stay home tonight." He watched as Seren found control and words.

"I've channeled the Collective," said Seren finally. "I can really do it myself. That's what Etan planned, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I knew you could."

"You've known me longer than anybody," said Seren, which was the most literal truth. Rienrie had put his genes together for Etan.

"I know you," agreed the healer. "However you feel, whatever you've done, you're strong enough to act for Ovanan. Alone. No one else can."

"Do you think it's worth it?"

"Do you?" asked Rienrie directly. "That's the question you have to answer." Etan had never let him duck his choices. Neither did Rienrie.

Seren thought about Sere's games of pain, and then of the screaming call of a planet's destruction, and the searing seductive power that had possessed his identity. Without the Hierarchy, he'd only have that if he wanted it.

No, if he chose it.

"I can't give up," he said wearily. "Maybe it's dangerous for one person to hold the Collective's power, but I know what the price is. The Hierarchy doesn't care, and I can't let them go on making the choices about it." Was this what Etan had felt? It didn't matter now, what Etan had felt. "That's what I think."

"Good enough." Rienrie rose to leave. "D'mer, I'm leaving Seren in your charge."

D'mer appeared in the inner archway. "Is he still meant to be in trance?"

"Officially, yes," said Rienrie, "for days yet. Do rest and don't dream, Seren." And he was gone, the door snapped shut behind him.

"I'll guard you to the rendezvous," said D'mer. It was not a question.

Seren, abruptly sleepy again, nodded. "Guard me now, if you will."

Seren slept without trance or drugs through the day until evening. He did not remember any nightmares, and he woke in D'mer's arms without screaming.

* * *