any other, but in his heart the mere thought of
her carried a wave of cold fear. She was dangerous, no less dangerous than the king. If she pointed at you with a bone, you
might just as well fling yourself off the side of the mountain, for she had marked you for death. All your friends would shun
you for fear of being marked as well, and death would come sooner, rather than later. It was rumored that she made use of
poison rather than the darker magics as she would have one believe, but what did it really matter? Dead was still dead.
Ragnar Ollesson shivered, and not from the cold, as he hurried down the side of the mountain, longing for the welcome warmth
of his fire and the heavy weight of his down-filled blankets. If he allowed himself to think about it, there was much about
the king’s plan that he did not like. Was it really necessary to slaughter all those who could not be brought to a new world?
His mind cringed from the thought of the bloodshed to come. He squirmed uneasily as he realized that he and his family were
safe from such a purge. As chief programmer of the interstellar computers, he was far too valuable to discard.
He bit his lip and tried to avoid thinking as the decision was made almost without conscious decision. Really, there had never
been any doubt about it; he had little courage and no stomach at all for bloodshed and pain, especially when it was his own.
Then there were the children to consider. Was it really fair to even think of opposing the king when there were the children
to think of? Immediately he felt better.
He began to chide himself for having taken this cold, dangerous route when he could have been warm and safe inside. He hurried
down the treacherous slope, nearly falling on a smooth stretch of ice. Then it happened; his feetslid out from under him and he fell heavily to the ground and slid a short way, coming to rest against a strange bulwark of
piled snow. He put out a hand to steady himself as he got to his feet, wondering for a moment how and why such an obstacle
came to be in the middle of the path. Perhaps it had fallen from the upper slopes. He raised his head to look.
There was a sense of movement, a darkness against the even darker sky, a large shadow that obliterated the sight of the stars
and filled him with a sudden sense of unreasoning terror. He felt a hand upon his shoulder and for a brief second he relaxed,
thinking that one of his friends had thought to frighten him. He grinned, thinking of the laughter at his expense that would
surely follow the telling of this tale and he opened his mouth to speak.
And then, as the hand tightened on his shoulder, he felt another hand seize his chin and a bolt of icy fear lanced through
his bowels. He knew then in some intuitive manner that this was no friend and that he would never laugh and joke about what
would happen next. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of grief for those he loved and an overwhelming sense of regret that merged
neatly with the cold/hot tremor of agony that coursed down through his neck and body.
The body that had been Ragnar Ollesson slumped heavily to the icy ground, the blue eyes open and staring up at the stars,
which were once more clearly visible. As he lay there, the life force slipping from his unfeeling body, he was glad that he
could see them and he wondered to himself that perhaps the fear of pain and courage was far worse than the actual deed itself.
Slowly, the stars dimmed and vanished.
6
Keri sat before the window in the darkened room, strok ing the sleeping lupebeast and staring out into the dark night. The stars seemed much closer and brighter here. Sometimes
it felt as though one could reach out and touch their cold, shimmering brilliance. Perhaps it was because they were different
stars, shining down on a different world, so different from the stars she had wished upon as a child.
She smiled ruefully to herself at the thought of the naïve
her carried a wave of cold fear. She was dangerous, no less dangerous than the king. If she pointed at you with a bone, you
might just as well fling yourself off the side of the mountain, for she had marked you for death. All your friends would shun
you for fear of being marked as well, and death would come sooner, rather than later. It was rumored that she made use of
poison rather than the darker magics as she would have one believe, but what did it really matter? Dead was still dead.
Ragnar Ollesson shivered, and not from the cold, as he hurried down the side of the mountain, longing for the welcome warmth
of his fire and the heavy weight of his down-filled blankets. If he allowed himself to think about it, there was much about
the king’s plan that he did not like. Was it really necessary to slaughter all those who could not be brought to a new world?
His mind cringed from the thought of the bloodshed to come. He squirmed uneasily as he realized that he and his family were
safe from such a purge. As chief programmer of the interstellar computers, he was far too valuable to discard.
He bit his lip and tried to avoid thinking as the decision was made almost without conscious decision. Really, there had never
been any doubt about it; he had little courage and no stomach at all for bloodshed and pain, especially when it was his own.
Then there were the children to consider. Was it really fair to even think of opposing the king when there were the children
to think of? Immediately he felt better.
He began to chide himself for having taken this cold, dangerous route when he could have been warm and safe inside. He hurried
down the treacherous slope, nearly falling on a smooth stretch of ice. Then it happened; his feetslid out from under him and he fell heavily to the ground and slid a short way, coming to rest against a strange bulwark of
piled snow. He put out a hand to steady himself as he got to his feet, wondering for a moment how and why such an obstacle
came to be in the middle of the path. Perhaps it had fallen from the upper slopes. He raised his head to look.
There was a sense of movement, a darkness against the even darker sky, a large shadow that obliterated the sight of the stars
and filled him with a sudden sense of unreasoning terror. He felt a hand upon his shoulder and for a brief second he relaxed,
thinking that one of his friends had thought to frighten him. He grinned, thinking of the laughter at his expense that would
surely follow the telling of this tale and he opened his mouth to speak.
And then, as the hand tightened on his shoulder, he felt another hand seize his chin and a bolt of icy fear lanced through
his bowels. He knew then in some intuitive manner that this was no friend and that he would never laugh and joke about what
would happen next. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of grief for those he loved and an overwhelming sense of regret that merged
neatly with the cold/hot tremor of agony that coursed down through his neck and body.
The body that had been Ragnar Ollesson slumped heavily to the icy ground, the blue eyes open and staring up at the stars,
which were once more clearly visible. As he lay there, the life force slipping from his unfeeling body, he was glad that he
could see them and he wondered to himself that perhaps the fear of pain and courage was far worse than the actual deed itself.
Slowly, the stars dimmed and vanished.
6
Keri sat before the window in the darkened room, strok ing the sleeping lupebeast and staring out into the dark night. The stars seemed much closer and brighter here. Sometimes
it felt as though one could reach out and touch their cold, shimmering brilliance. Perhaps it was because they were different
stars, shining down on a different world, so different from the stars she had wished upon as a child.
She smiled ruefully to herself at the thought of the naïve
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