Meina Gladstone rose, paced to the window, raised a hand, and the image went black. So you dont know if any of them are still alive?
No.
What was their status the last time you dreamt?
Hunt was
watching me as intensely as ever. Meina Gladstone was staring at the dark screen, her back to both of us. All of the pilgrims were alive, I said, with the possible exception of Het Masteen, the True Voice of the Tree.
He was dead? asked Hunt.
He disappeared from the windwagon on the Sea of Grass two nights before, only hours after the Ouster scouts had destroyed the treeship Yggdrasill. But shortly before the pilgrims descended from Keep Chronos, they saw a robed figure crossing the sands toward the Tombs.
Het Masteen? asked Gladstone.
I lifted a hand. They assumed so. They were not sure.
Tell me about the others, said the CEO.
I took a breath. I knew from the dreams that Gladstone had known at least two of the people on the last Shrike Pilgrimage; Brawne Lamias father had been a fellow senator, and the Hegemony Consul had been Gladstones personal representative in secret negotiations with the Ousters.
Father Hoyt is in great pain, I said. He told the story of the cruciform. The Consul learned that Hoyt also wears one two actually. Father Durés and his own.
Gladstone nodded. So he still carries the resurrection parasite?
Yes.
Does it bother him more as he approaches the Shrikes lair?
I believe so, I said.
Go on.
The poet, Silenus, has been drunk much of the time. He is convinced that his unfinished poem predicted and determines the course of events.
On Hyperion? asked Gladstone, her back still turned.
Everywhere, I said.
Hunt glanced at the chief executive and then looked back at me. Is Silenus insane?
I returned his gaze but said nothing. In truth, I did not know.
Go on, Gladstone said again.
Colonel Kassad continues with his twin obsessions of finding the woman named Moneta and of killing the Shrike. He is aware that they may be one and the same.
Is he armed? Gladstones voice was very soft.
Yes.
Go on.
Sol Weintraub, the scholar from Barnards World, hopes to enter the tomb called the Sphinx as soon as
Excuse me, said Gladstone, but is his daughter still with him?
Yes.
And how old is Rachel now?
Five days, I believe. I closed my eyes to remember the previous nights dream in greater detail. Yes, I said, five days.
And still aging backward in time?
Yes.
Go on, M. Severn. Please tell me about Brawne Lamia and the Consul.
M. Lamia is carrying out the wishes of her former client and lover, I said. The Keats persona felt it was necessary for him to confront the Shrike. M. Lamia is doing it in his stead.
M. Severn, began Leigh Hunt, you speak of the Keats persona as if it had no relevance or connection to your own
Later, please, Leigh, said Meina Gladstone. She turned to look at me. Im curious about the Consul. Did he take his turn at telling his reason for joining the pilgrimage?
Yes, I said.
Gladstone and Hunt waited.
The Consul told them about his grandmother, I said. The woman called Siri who started the Maui-Covenant rebellion more than half a century ago. He told them about the death of his own family during the battle for Bressia, and he revealed his secret meetings with the Ousters.
Is that all? asked Gladstone. Her brown eyes were very intense.
No, I said. The Consul told them that he had been the one to trigger an Ouster device which hastened the opening of the Time Tombs.
Hunt sat straight up, his leg dropping off the arm of the chair.
Gladstone visibly took a breath. Is that all?
Yes.
How did the others respond to his revelation of betrayal? she asked.
I paused, tried to reconstruct the dream images in a more linear fashion than memory provided. Some were outraged, I said. But none feels overwhelming loyalty to the Hegemony at this point. They decided to go on. I believe that each of the pilgrims feels that punishment will be dealt out by the Shrike, not by human agency.
Hunt slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair. If the Consul were here, he snapped, hed fast discover otherwise.
Quiet, Leigh. Gladstone paced back to her desk, touched some papers there. All of the comm lights were glowing impatiently. I found myself amazed that she could spend such so much time talking to me at such an hour. Thank you, M. Severn, she said. I want you to be with us for the next few days. Someone will show you to your suite in the residential wing of Government House.
I rose. Ill return to Esperance for my things, I said.
No need, said Gladstone. They were brought here before you had stepped off the terminex platform. Leigh will show you out.
I nodded and
followed the taller man toward the door.
Oh, M. Severn called Meina Gladstone.
Yes?
The CEO smiled. I did appreciate your candour earlier, she said. But from this point on, let us assume you are a court artist and a court artist alone, sans opinions, sans visibility, sans mouth. Understood?
Understood, M. Executive, I said.
Gladstone nodded, already turning her attention to the blinking phone lights. Very good. Please bring your sketchbook to the meeting in the War Room at 0800 hours.