by Mike Resnick
Kobrynski stopped some fifty yards away from the cabin and reached his hands to the sky in a gesture of supplication— and, just before her image was dispersed, the Dark Lady's hauntingly sad expression vanished, to be replaced by a smile. I looked back to where Kobrynski had been standing, but there was no sign of him.
“Where is he?” I asked, puzzled.
“He vanished,” said Heath. He paused, frowning in confusion. “At least, I think he vanished.”
“NO!” screamed Venzia, running to the door and opening it. “You can't leave yet! I have to talk to you!”
“Do not leave, Friend Reuben!” I shouted after him. “You have already been exposed to radiation when Kobrynski opened the door, and you are not wearing any protection. You will die!”
“Don't try to stop me!” snarled Venzia, twisting free and racing outside to the spot where Kobrynski had vanished. “Please!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “I've got to know!”
“We must bring him back inside!” I said urgently.
“Let him yell for his answer,” replied Heath wearily. “He's dead already.”
“But— ”
There was a final violent explosion overhead, and then the sky returned to normal.
“Activate the radiation meter at the top of your faceplate, Leonardo,” said Heath. “If the force of that last blast didn't kill him, he'll be burnt to a crisp in another ten seconds. His brain's already fried.”
“I should have stopped him,” I said, running out of the cabin. “I must help him!”
“He's beyond help,” replied Heath, but he nonetheless came with me.
Venzia had collapsed by the time we reached him. His face was covered with black blisters, and his hair was singed and smoking, but he was still alive, and we finally managed to carry him back into the cabin and lay him down on Kobrynski's cot.
“We might just as well have left him outside,” remarked Heath. “You can't open the door to a nuclear furnace and expect your quarters to remain uncontaminated.”
I checked my radiation meter, and the reading confirmed his statement.
Venzia murmured something through his burnt lips.
“I think he wants water,” said Heath.
“But the water is contaminated,” I said.
“Give it to him anyway. What's the difference?”
I poured some water into a small metal cup and held it to Venzia's lips.
“Thanks,” he muttered. His head fell back onto the cot. “Where is she?” he managed to rasp.
“She is gone,” I said as the full import of what had happened dawned upon me. “She is not the Mother of All Things. She came for Kobrynski, not for me.”
“And now I will never know what lies beyond,” whispered Venzia.
“You will know very soon, Friend Reuben,” I said gently.
Suddenly he tensed, his eyes staring blindly into space.
“What is the matter, Friend Reuben?” I asked.
“I see her!” he rasped.
“Is she beckoning to you?”
He frowned. “No. She's with him.”
“With Kobrynski?”
“Yes.”
“What is she doing?” I asked.
“She's smiling.” He collapsed back onto the bed. “She's finally smiling,” he whispered, and died.
I sat motionless beside Venzia's body for a few moments. Then I felt Heath's hand on my shoulder.
“I think it's time to leave, Leonardo,” he said.
“Yes,” I said. “It is time.”
“We'll have to leave his body here. We can't risk taking it onto the ship.”
“I know,” I replied, getting to my feet and following him to the door.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully as we walked slowly to the ship, “I'm still not quite sure what I saw.”
“I am.”
“I wonder where she'll show up next?” he mused.
“She will never appear again,” I replied.
Epilogue
This, then, is the chronicle of the Dark Lady.
But it is also the chronicle of Leonardo, who continues to wander the galaxy shunned and alone, whose name may never again be uttered by any member of his House or Family, and whose sins are beyond number.
Many times after I left Solitaire in the company of Valentine Heath I considered performing the ritual of suicide, but always I was ethically compelled to await the end of my suspension from Claiborne and the fulfillment of my contract. And when the day finally came that my employment was officially terminated, I realized that if I was no longer a Bjornn, I was no longer required to abide by Bjornn customs.
Heath and I moved from planet to planet for three years, always one step ahead of the police, while I apprenticed myself to the only trade for which I was qualified. It was during this time— more from the boredom of travel on his small ship than for any other reason, or so I thought— that I began drawing a series of sketches of the Dark Lady, trying but never quite succeeding in capturing her elusive beauty.
Then one day Heath was apprehended, and I found myself totally alone. It was then that I realized what my true mission in life was, why events had conspired to place me on Solitaire on that fatal day, why she had appeared to me in a vision, and what it was that she wanted of me.
There have been many portraits of her, and always she has been portrayed with a hauntingly sad expression on her face. With Kobrynski and Venzia dead and Heath in prison, only I can paint her as she last appeared, and as she will appear for the rest of Time.
It will take me many attempts and many years, for I am as clumsy in my painting as I am in all other things. But someday I shall succeed— for only then, with the completion of the last portrait of the Dark Lady and its juxtaposition to all the others, will both of our odysseys finally be complete.
-The End-
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Table of Contents
Prologue
PART 1
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
PART 2
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
PART 3
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
PART 4
19.
20.
21.
22.
Epilogue
