Cyan waits, her stomach knotted, her heart pounding.  "Berd," she whispers.  And upon her shoulder, Berd narrows his eyes.  The call goes out - invisible, silent, impossible to catch, for it is less a message than an idea forming within one of Berd's minds and thus, shared by all.

Hold.  Hold your place.  Subsumption may not be necessary.  I/We may not need to become One.  We cannot risk upsetting this peace.

Approaching the world, the blizzard of tiny forms wavers, flows, and bursts free of the Underflow to scatter through out the nearby void, wary of predators from below.  Their numbers are smaller, and many of them are far more defined than before, their eyes growing brighter.  Their minds sharper.  Some approach Berd as he was when the quest began, hovering on the edge of something greater.

But they listen.  And wait in silence, shrouded - not a threat, not surrounding the world.

Finally Banglen-Yp speaks.  "Lords of the West, thank you," Cyan whispers.  "And thank you, Banglen-Yp."  The woman (for Cyan cannot think of her as anything but) would accept the Archons, should they choose to enter her space.  And perhaps, just perhaps, without the pressures of room forcing them to battle, the Archon race might find better ways to live than ceaselessly seeking to carve out territory.

But that depends upon Harbonah.

Flicker.  Flare.  The beautiful, terrible form is gone, vanishing into a burning wheel of fire.  To battle?  Or...

To leave.  To leave and consider.  In all the time Cyan has known Harbonah - years, even, thanks to differential - she has never heard such a tone in his voice.  "Thank you," she whispers.  "Thank you for taking this chance."

And chance it is, for him.  He risks loss of leadership.

She straightens, her voice pitched to carry again, taken by Berd's power to all of the observing Archons.  "We will await your decision.  And we will remain here, with your people who choose to stay.  I will talk freely with any who wish to speak with me."  A sidelong glance at James reveals strain on his chiselled features, and Cyan's topaz eyes narrow.  Berd.

The drake's own burning eyes echo hers, and threads of power feed from the Underflow into the Amberite, into his designs - not to manipulate them, but to provide the raw energies for easier transition.  James, if you wish I can track the Archon's requests and prioritize them based on when they arrive - keep them ordered for you.

A small thing, but it would relieve your need to split your focus.

"Left, please bide with us a time.  I would speak with you."  Stepping to the wheel of fire, Cyan stares into its flames.  The shreds and remnants of her hate have gone, as has most of her fear.  They had weighed her down for so long...and yet, she feels empty.  Bereft.  They had helped sustain her for so long, been a part of her life after her capture.

Something else, she knows, will come to replace the dark feelings.  Something good, she hopes.

"I hope you choose peace.  For all of us."

Peace for the Archons, in more ways than one.

Harbonah passes through the bubble without a word.  he follows a curved track which carries him up and out of Hosk, back into the Underflow...

Left's voice is still a whisper, + NONE OF THEM FOLLOWED! +  It is true.  The sky above Berd's protective dome is still packed with Archons.

And it is obvious that their rivalries have not faded.  They are simply being controlled.  Even in a cooperative effort like the rebuilding of Hosk they fight a sort of battle: many of their requests and suggestions, while generally constructive, are couched in terms intended to undermine the ideas of others.

Old feuds held in check only by Harbonah's dominance.  Hostility which has burned brighter than suns, and for longer, now suppressed by Harbonah's will.

But still the work continues, gradually transforming the hellish landscape into one which is equally hellish, but in a different way...

Stepping forward, Cyan lets her gaze rise to watch Harbonah vanish.  He flickers through the air like a comet, fading out of this reality into What Lies Between.  "Goodbye," she whispers.  "And I hope...perhaps, to see you again."

His will holds the Archons in check, perhaps will continue to do so until a decision is made, a decision that will hopefully have them shifting into the freedom of Banglen-Yp's 'home'.  There are sides to Harbonah she had not seen before, but why should that be surprising?  The pain, the damage he has inflicted remains, but perhaps he will become their best hope for peace.

Harbonah...and the example of Hosk, an example that James even now builds.  It captures the imagination, the need, the vision of the Archons Harbonah brought to destroy, focusing them upon another purpose.  James' creation may teach them as well, proving there are things of worth and glory in this universe.  His own dream of the world becomes a reality, twining with those of the Seraphim to create a thing of startling beauty.

Harbonah and James are the ones who forge this possibility; she, herself, only has words, and words cannot truly create on their own.

"Yes, Left.  They stayed."  She nods, suddenly overwhelmingly weary.  "Can you see?  Is it not...possible?  Things might change.  With a change in the situation, there may - may - come a change in the people.  There is a chance, here.  Many factors have come together in this one place, many weights upon both sides of the scale, and it tilts our way.  This time."

She closes brilliant eyes; when they open again, they have darkened, a deep amethyst rather than the paler shades of before.

"And that is all for which we may ask: hope, hope that there exists a chance.  The end avoided for another day, more time to talk, to try to find a new way.  To change."

Her stare shifts from James, hard at work, to the danioti hovering beside her.  "You changed, Left.  You learned things.  Different things, not necessarily better.  See where it has brought you.  Your perspective has shifted."

Now her eyes rise to the shining host above them.  "Change begins again.  Life - all life - continues."

Time passes, and the sun of Hosk rides an erratic course across the sky, bloated and wrathful.

James works, assisted by those that can do so, and watched by others.  The changes accelerate, building upon each other, and each change makes conditions more suitable for those that follow.  Ripples of alteration dance across the land, like waves on the oceans of a saner world.

Forests of coloured metal trees sprout, crystal spires extend upward from rents in the ground, and clusters of tornadoes dance around each other, as lighting leaps between them.  There are structures of ice among the rivers of flame, and hovering mountains of stone drift in the spaces between superheated clouds of toxic vapour.

Finally, as the sun starts to sink towards the newly transformed horizon, James seems to falter.

Standing silent with Left, Cyan observes the changing world with her changing eyes.  Exhaustion threatens, stress and preparation having eaten away much of her strength, but she holds steady.  If James can manage, with what he's currently going through, certainly so may she.

And the world shifts, again and again.

The power these immortals hold is immense.  They walk in worlds like gods, and yet are near as fragile as the mortals they stand above.  Cyan can only wonder what it must be like to forge something new of a broken world, an act of compassion so glorious it cannot in truth be measured.

How does one weigh such creation?

Finally, though, even James' legendary stamina begins to break.  "Berd," Cyan whispers, breaking her silent vigil.  The drake, his eyes glowing dully, summons his own flagging reserves to assist the man in his final efforts.  "James, have done for now," the bard pleads.

"Yes." James replies simply, there is a sense of fatigue but also of satisfaction in his voice.  The job is not completed, true, but the progress made has been significant and will endure.  Perhaps more might have been achieved if the gathered Archons has been prepared to commit more material help but James does not allow himself to dwell on any disappointment.  One might as easily say that far less would have been achieved without their creative input or in the face of concerted opposition.

James says nothing further for a time as he struggles to tie off remaining "loose ends", except two, and disengage safely from the Pattern.

Finally, he finishes.  His shoulders sag slightly, but he gives no other obvious sign of tiredness.  He turns to the assembled Archons, still a sizeable throng despite the time that has passed, and speaks.  "I, we, have not finished, and I am sorry to leave the job part done.  I will continue when I can but for now you must forgive me."

"I have created something, though, so you may continue without me.  Two things actually.  These are mine, my contributions if you will, and I hope you like them."

"A quarter turn of Hosk that way," James points, "I have created a duelling circle.  It hasn't escaped my attention that many of your suggestions have been at cross-purposes to those of others of your kin.  The duelling circle is one means by which you may resolve these differences.  I have set things there so that the Pattern remains unstable, within bounds.  On the circumference of the circle are two smaller circles.  Two Archons, one in each circle, can set the terms of the duel.  Sweeping environmental changes are beyond me, at least in those circumstances, but the duellists can by agreement make some changes to the usual laws.  As a suggestion, you could make lethal injury less likely." James smiles wryly, grimly aware that some duellists will seek to twist chance the other way.  He is not entirely sure what would result.

"A quarter turn that way," James points in the opposite direction, "is another circle, this one an auditorium.  The Pattern there will also remain unstable.  There is no stage, no podium, no place for a conductor.  The more of you who assemble at the auditorium and agree on a particular course, the greater their influence on the surrounding environment.  If all of you were to assemble there...and agree...you could conceivably re-make Hosk again."

OOC: Not entirely sure if any of that is within James capabilities, but I think it's a cool idea so I'm putting it out there, I'm happy to edit or be edited as needed.  Also Dworkin, I think I might need to put Greater Pattern Mastery on James wishlist.  By the time we're done, James might even have a trick or two to teach Fiona.

At first there is growing resentment - calls for "one more change" to be made before James rests.  But there is no agreement on what that change should be.  Instead there is a chorus of voices, each demanding that their own request be fulfilled before any other.  Skirmishes start to break out among the host.  Short, violent squabbles, untrammelled without Harbonah to hold the Archons in a grip of iron.  Archons in a confined area, without that authority to hold them in check, are free to let old rivalries run their short, lethal course.

And James continues to speak, describing two sites, poles apart in terms of both position and purpose.  The fighting dwindles, but not before a number of Archons have fallen.  The attention of the host is, once again, focussed on the man standing below them in a flimsy-seeming bubble of force.

James finishes speaking, and for a moment there is silence.  Followed by the sound of a thousand peals of thunder as the Archons streak away in the indicated directions.  The wind of their passing swirls around the bubble, and then they are... gone.  All of them.

Of all the Archons, only Left and two of Right's assigned guards remain.

"Well," James looks around in surprise, "I wasn't expecting that!"

James continues to peer about, as though expecting some trick.  "They have really gone, I take it, Berd?  Do you think we can relax a bit?  'Cause I don't know about you but I'm feeling pretty tired.  We could bring out Shaendra's supplies and have a picnic while we decide what to do next."

Truth be told, James would love the opportunity to explore the newly created garden but there is no telling how long Harbonah will need to consider the current proposal, or what his answer will be.  If things go badly, the group may need to fight or flee with very little notice.

James' innovations widen Cyan's eyes even further.  The far-reaching ramifications of such things, she cannot imagine, but the short-term idea of channelling the Archons' aggressive tendancies toward something a little better than 'killing rivals' cannot be understated.  Certainly both areas garner a great deal of attention; even her own bodyguard is fractured down to a single herenethi and danioti.

And Left.  But that one is no bodyguard.

For a long moment, she simply stares at the remains of a set of blades scattered across the acidic landscape and already beginning to tarnish: the remnants of one of the archons slain after Harbonah's departure.  Never before has there been such a statement supporting their erstwhile enemy's words.  Archons.  Cannot.  Coexist.

Or can they?  Perhaps, Cyan can hope, they might add 'until now' to the end of that statement.

James' words wash over her, and she finds her knees growing weak.  Which is odd, considering how little work she, herself, has done here.  It has all been James, with his control over the world and his changes, and Berd, supplying power.  It...

Her knees hit the ground.

Gone, James.  Only Left, Barkiel, and Staosha remain.

Her hands cover her face as she slumps, and a single, muffled sob escapes them.  Then Cyan lets her arms droop, trailing their fingers upon the diamond 'rock' beneath her.  "Have...have we won?" she whispers.  "Or is this merely a stutter in the war?"  Her eyes find the others - James, Banglen-Yp, Left, Barkiel and Staosha.  Even Luke, standing silent and watchful.

"Is it over?"

+ A CLEVER IDEA, JAMES.  SOMETHING TO DISTRACT THEM FROM THEIR HATREDS. + Left declares, + THOUGH IT WILL, OF COURSE, MEAN THAT THERE ARE MORE OF THEM ALIVE, SHOULD HARBONAH ORDER THEM TO ATTACK. +  The Archon laughs quietly.  With the numbers involved, even the loss of half of them would have made little difference if Harbonah had commanded an attack.

Banglen-Yp. the one still in her original form, looks up from where she plays with Nine Lives and smiles cheerfully, • Two of me have gone with them • one to each of the places James told them about •  They will watch over them and warn me if they are coming back •  It will only be a few seconds warning but it will be a warning •

• For now they seem busy with the new distractions James has given them •

Just for the moment, then, it seems that they will have some peace and quiet.  Perhaps it would be the right time to take some rest and a little food...

Sagging with relief, Cyan slowly draws herself into a cross-legged posture.  "Perhaps they might learn from it.  One never knows," she murmurs.  It's not impossible.  And if some do, then...

"Please sit, everyone, or remain the forms you choose," Cyan offers.  "Thank you, Banglen-Yp.  Warning would be appreciated.  Berd?"  The little dragon slowly nods his head, letting himself relax on her shoulder, his eyes closing: almost asleep, but not quite.

Slowly Cyan begins bringing out what she carried from Shaendra and Tander's world, laying it out atop a small cloth removed from the pack.  She doesn't trust the diamond - there's too much in the air around here, and it could be dusted with heavy metals (poisons, her mind translates).

"We haven't won," she suddenly declares.  "But then, this isn't about winning any more.  Sadly, we've not yet ended the threat, either.  James' creation may prove to be the tipping point, but it does not fully end the central issue, that of Archon space.  Left.  Barkiel.  Staosha.  What do you think of the potential of having a second place in which to live and grow - another fully universe like the Myriad Worlds - and this one, to visit and study?"

Glancing up at James, she pats the diamond beside her, then eyes the Archons.  "I would have more opinions from different Archons on this matter.  Is it viable?  Might it be enough?"

Left seems to consider for a moment, and then her form starts to shift, until she finally stands before the others as a metal skinned humanoid, covered with moving blades.  The other Archons follow suit, Staosha adopting a similar form to Left's, and Barkiel becoming a winged humanoid composed entirely of lightning.  Only Barkiel sits.

Left speaks, + We cannot sit, we danioti, but this form is as near as we can come to it. +  She looks at the other two, who nod, and then she continues, + I speak for all of us.  We cannot say if this idea will work.  A group can be predicted easily - barring some outside influence the group will always act in the way which is determined to be best by the most powerful faction within that group.  Individuals count for little, as their opinions and inclinations are cancelled out by those who disagree with them. +

+ In this case the group effectively consists of Harbonah.  None will oppose him if he comes back and rejects your proposal.  Nor will any oppose him if he declares that the proposal is acceptable.  His is the only voice which matters among the Seraphim.  Unfortunately we do not believe that he is... entirely rational.  He acts upon whim, and his mood is changeable.  On some days he is wrathful and filled with rage, and on other days he is in a bad mood. +  Staosha laughs, a harsh metallic screeching, like the rusted hinges of an old gate.

Left falls silent and lowers her head for a moment before resuming, + But he has been gone for longer than we would have expected.  This would seem to indicate that he is giving much consideration to the idea. +

+ Perhaps... +

James takes the offered seat next to Cyan and nods his thanks to Berd and Banglen-Yp, any warning would indeed be welcome.

"I'd complain that the seat is hard," James smiles, "but it would be a little perverse since I can't really feel it through my armour."

"Just think what our little stool might be worth on another world.  Enough to buy a kingdom, I'd wager.  Travelling the worlds can teach you some worthwhile lessons about the value of things, don't you think?"

James stops, "Listen to me, I'm rambling.  I must be more tired than I thought.  Still, I'll settle for a good feed.  Let's see what treats Shaendra packed for us."

James sets about making a meal as best he can.  Whatever food he prepares, he makes sure to offer some to Berd.  The little dragon has been working hard and will surely be hungry.

Staosha shifts uncomfortably and looks towards the sky, before speaking, + It may be worse than Left says,  Harbonah has become increasingly unpredictable since your defection, General.  Only days ago, as time is measured here on Hosk, five hundred of the danioti were killed by him as a punishment for suspected treason against his will.  Five hundred.  In a single day.  He has learned, too, from what happened here. +

An arm lifts and gestures at the world around them, + Harbonah has a weapon that will destroy worlds in less time than it takes a human to... to... what is the word?  When the eyes close for an instant?  No matter.  Harbonah has a weapon that would allow him to destroy any world before anybody could stop it. +

At first, Left's words bring a sense of accomplishment.  They're not sure, they're not finished here, but there's a chance...she grins at James' words and clasps his armored shoulder, wishing she could feel him rather than cold metal.  "Well put, James.  For myself, this little stool is valuable that I might sit with those closest to me."  Closing her eyes, she breathes in deeply.  "That makes it all the more precious."

Berd practically falls upon whatever James lays out for him.  At present, he cares little for its contents, preferring volume over flavour.  The drake wolfs down his share with little grace and less neatness, finally collapsing in place to be gathered up and dragged into Cyan's lap.

But the bard's good mood evapourates with Staosha's next words.

"Truly?"  Chilled, Cyan studies the danioti for a long moment.  "Harbonah has gone beyond dictator, then, to despot.  And he now holds a weapon that might cinder a world?"  Her jaw tightens, her appetite fades, and Cyan shakes her head.  "That...your people deserve freedom, Staosha.  Guidance by an enlightened ruler, perhaps.  And yes, perhaps strength is necessary for a ruler to hold sway over the Archons.  But this?"

She swallows thickly, one hand creeping over to latch onto James' forearm.  "It is too much.  If Harbonah is this lost...if he holds your people in a grip like this..."

"Why?"  Cyan glances to the Archons.  "Why after my defection?  Surely my loss mattered little to Harbonah.  It did not significantly weaken his plans.  It did not significantly weaken his forces.  Did it...teach him to expect treachery?  But he knew that, before!  Archons have turned upon each other before.  Surely my loss could not have engendered such a feeling within him."

Again, she surveys the Archons around her with too-bright, topaz eyes.

"Staosha, you know something of this.  Barkiel, until recently you were of the Seraphim.  Help me understand - if you have any reasons, any insight as to why Harbonah has grown more jealous of his power, more suspicious, more...crazed since I left, please!  Even a guess might help!"

+ We believe it is pride, in part, which has caused this shift in his behaviour. +

+ Never before had anybody, Archon or otherwise, betrayed Harbonah so openly.  Yes, others had defied him, but they had never served him, or if they had then their defiance was less public.  You have defied him before other Archons.  Made him seem weak.  This has wounded his pride. + Staosha replies.  Barkiel shifts position, seeming uncomfortable, but remains silent.

+ He thought he had made a perfect weapon.  Archons do not serve easily, we are too intent upon our own goals.  In you he thought he had created a servant who did not share that trait.  And he thought he had broken you.  He believed you could not defy him.  To put so much effort into creating a weapon... to display it openly to others and extoll its virtues... and then to find that it was flawed.  This, too, has wounded his pride. +

+ And the five hundred were an example.  A lesson.  A demonstration that he will brook no challenge to his authority. +

+ It may also have been an attempt to stop the opposition from other factions. + Left interrupts, + To shock his enemies into capitulation.  To let them see that he can destroy so many of his own, motivated simply by suspicion and whim, shows that he believes he has more than sufficient support to win this conflict. +

And Barkiel speaks at last, + Yes. It says that he did not trust the five hundred, but that mattered little, for he did not need them.  He could afford to dispose of them. +

James grimaces at the mention of Harbonah's new 'super-weapon' "I feared as much."

"For a long time now I've been worried that one of the Seraphim would learn to copy what Dorian did here at Hosk; the effect, at least, if not the method."

"I don't know how much difference it will make, though.  Harbonah already had a good claim to irresistable force if he wanted to threaten a world.  And there are few enough worlds dangerous enough to make him prefer destruction over conquest."

James puts his hand over Cyan's where it grips his forearm.  "Harbonah's pride might yet be our biggest problem.  He may refuse Banglen-Yp's offer merely because it is not his idea, though I hope I'm wrong."

"Luke, you've been awfully quiet.  Apocalyptic conflicts caused by pride, any wisdom for us?"

OOC: Couldn't resist that last bit, sorry (I'm assuming Luke's still with us?)

"Dorian," Luke mused.  "Tried to stop him, I did.  Failed.  Amusing, James.  And discerning."  Luke stared out into the hellish world, his eyes thoughtful.  He'd seen worse in his day: just as terrible, without any of the beauty.  "You've got three choices with Harbonah."  Up comes a hand with two fingers and a thumb extended.

"One.  You kill him.  Only problem with that, the Seraphim fracture and boom, we've got chaos.  I can think of a few ways this WOULD work, but it requires someone to lead the Archons afterward.  You'd need someone capable of taking Harbonah's place who wouldn't decide to burn the universe to the ground, but who is also strong enough to hold onto the Archons until - if ever - things change for them."

He grunted.  "I'd offer myself up for the job, but...I'm not sure I'm up to the task."

"Two.  You imprison he and his followers." A grimace twisted his handsome features.  "Problem with that is it leaves the situation open-ended.  No prison is good forever - none - and when he gets out, he'll be righteously pissed beyond anything we've seen.  So will his followers.  Then there'll be zero chance of peace, just war until everything is over."

He shot a glance at Berd.  "I've got...some experience with that.  And we've already seen it done with Harbonah.  It's part of why we're in this situation."

"Three?"  A deep sigh followed. "You give him what he wants.  What he needs.  Only problem is, I'm not sure what that is.  To give it to him, you have to know what it REALLY is.  Is it winning this war?  Having a safe place for Archons?  Or is it total control over the Seraphim, forever, all about power?  Or is it something we haven't seen?  A salve to his pride?  A hidden desire?  A change to Archon society?"

"Peace?" He sniffed.  "I tell you, being angry all the time, always feeling betrayed, always trying to guard yourself, and maybe, just maybe, trying to do the right thing for your people but getting hung up all the time on the minutae...that can be awfully disheartening."

"So flip a three-sided coin." He pushed his hand against Berd's barrier, stretching it slightly before letting it snap back.  "Me?  If we can figure out what makes him tick, three might work.  But it won't solve the greater problem."

Cyan bows her head when James' hand covers hers, closing her eyes.  Even this, after the stress and terror of the day...she could simply sleep, here and now.  Safe.

But that's not to be.

"It's because of me," she whispers.  "Not...my fault, of course," Cyan amends, knowing people might (logically) take this as ridiculous self-pity.  It isn't.  The observation is there, though.  Had she not fallen to Harbonah, had she not then escaped his domination of her mind and spirit, perhaps he would be reasonable?

"Well, perhaps he would be more reasonable," she sighs aloud with a smile that only holds a pinch of bitterness.  Shifting slightly, she leans against James for support and stares up at the Archons.  In her lap, Berd snoozes, grumbling a touch as his 'awake' mind disagrees with her assessement.

"This is not a dictator I would see in command of the Seraphim," Cyan continues, her voice gaining a touch of strength.  "One who would slay hundreds of his own simply to make a point, or to assuage his wounded pride?  No.  Never."  Her gaze shoots to Luke for a moment, narrowing.  She doesn't like him, never has, and still doesn't know why.  But still.  He makes a fine set of points about their options.

"Say we give him what he desires.  What then?  Will he suddenly become a better ruler?  I think not.  Say we imprison him.  Will we then be free of him?  Not forever.  Which leaves us the third option, one I will take from Luke's advice, yet alter."

Her lips tighten for a moment.  Then, "Harbonah must be unseated."

"Kill him?  Perhaps.  But will he not follow if forced by a superior?  If he is defeated, if one crushes him who can hold the Archons with their strength, if he is overwhelmed...will he not also follow?  Plotting, planning his ascension, but still relegated to similar status and strength as his former followers?"

She breathes out.  "If we can begin a new regime...in a new place...?"

Cyan lowers her eyes, clearly thinking; when her head raises again, they are pale emerald.  "Of course, another option.  Is there aught I could do to assuage his pride?  Is there a step I could take, beyond my words of today, to end this, do you think?"  Her lips tremble for a moment, then firm.  "What might satisfy this wounded pride, make of him a better ruler?  And would it last?"

Her eyes narrow.  "My plan.  What...what if I made Harbonah see?  Everything?  Would it be enough?  Can he change, now?  Grow past what he is?"

+ It is possible for Archons to change. + Left responds, with a laugh + Right and I have demonstrated that. +

+ But it is harder for the more powerful Archons to change.  The personalities grow within them, and they become more rigid in their thinking.  A new idea must overcome the resistance of four or five or six minds. +

+ But I believe you must try to change Harbonah, rather than remove him from power.  An attempt to remove him would force him to resist, and he would do anything within his power to thwart you. +

The danioti turns her attention to James, + He may reject the idea, yes.  But I do not believe it would be because he did not think of it.  I was one of the Seraphim at one time.  I have seen his mind at work.  Always he has held the interests of our people at his core.  If he rejects this scheme, it will be because he perceives some flaw in the idea, or because he does not believe it will be a solution, not because of pride. +

+ His pride and his rage are similar.  Both are allowed freedom only when it suits his plans.  Only when he sees some benefit to his own strategy will he let them show.  He does not let uncontrolled anger or vanity direct his actions. +

"Indeed, Left.  Point taken," Cyan murmurs.  "Both points...among many," she muses, with a small wave toward Left's sharp edges.  As much as she despises Harbonah's crimes - against others, for against her she has truly let go, only fading wisps of her hate remaining - she can see that he is perhaps the only leader possible for the Archons.

"So how do we change him?  It is his pride that burns him against me.  I might be able to something for that, if I could only sit and speak with him.  But to make him see the benefit of the universe itself, how it might enable the Archons to grow as a race, to become something more?"

Cyan purses her lips.  "Benefit.  He seized control because to leave the Archons free would leave them fighting.  Weakening them.  What if he could see that through growth, there would come change?  A change in needs, in wants?"

James leans companionably into Cyan, taking some of his weight on one arm so that the weight of his armour doesn't overbalance the pair of them.

"At least you tried, Luke.  I was glad of that.  Some of us tried to talk him out of it, but no-one else had the heart or the means to try and stop him."

"Really, it has to be option three.  I think we agree that killing Harbonah won't solve anything.  What I've seen here at Hosk convinces me of that.  The splintered groups would cause a lot of damage and then somebody else would take control and things would get even worse.  And prison's out.  That's how we landed in this mess in the first place."

"So it's good to hear that Harbonah's not just thinking of himself.  I despise what he's done.  But if he can think beyond himself then we have a chance.  I think there's always some resistance to change - the older you get, the more ingrained behaviours become; the more powerful you are, the more you have to lose.  But the possibility remains.  Dorian's example, for all the damage he caused here, is ultimately positive."

Two days.

Two days in Hosk's hostile landscape.  James works to make adjustments to the world, supported by Berd and the others, where they can.  Banglen-Yp reports regularly on the Archons in the playgrounds that James had provided - they experiment with what passes for nature here, and fight small wars among themselves as a rsult of the experiments, by the end of the second day, fully a quarter of each group have fled or been destroyed...

Luke expounds at great length, and often, on the nature of conflict, and pride, and avarice.

And at some point the realisation strikes Banglen-Yp that, though she has offered the Archons a new home, she does not know how to get there, short of returning to Amber and speaking to the one who brought her here.

And shortly after sunset on the second day, the sky directly overhead tears open with a blast of flame, and the sound of ten thousand peals of thunder.  Harbonah returns, burning like a sun in the heavens.

The Archon leader hovers above the diamond mountain, and his anger beats down upon those below, as palpable as a rainstorm... and gradually it fades.  + WE SEE THEM NOW.  WE SEE WHAT THEY ARE DOING.  INTERESTING.  CAN YOU ALSO SEE WHY THEY NEED US TO LEAD THEM?  TO GIVE THEM STRUCTURE? +

He dims, and descends, shrinking as he drops lower, until he is no more than a hundred yards broad.  He still bears the strange orb at his centre.

+ WE HAVE GIVEN SOME THOUGHT TO YOUR PROPOSAL.  WE FIND IT... ACCEPTABLE.  PROVIDED THAT YOU ARE ABLE TO DO THIS THING.  TO GIVE THE ARCHONS A NEW HOME WHERE WE CAN EXPAND AND MULTIPLY. +

Two days.  Two days of assisting James, of watching him work with awe and concern.  Two days of speaking with the Archons, observing the Seraphim, agonizing over their losses and conflicts, and struggling to find a way through this.  Two days of Banglen-Yp not knowing how to return to her home, and Cyan fighting to find a plan for opening a doorway there.

Two days.

And then the return.

Cyan pushes herself to her feet as Harbonah appears, her ruby eyes catching his fire and throwing it back as he descends.  "Yes.  I see and understand."  She waves to the Archons who have remained with her, hopefully learning from her as she learned from them.  "I listen, and I understand.  I have heard your words as well, Harbonah, and comprehend their truths."

One hand rises to rub her forehead, then she straightens.  "There will need to be work.  A gateway must be created to this other place, and to do so we will require assistance.  This is not dissemblance.  I will..."  Her voice trembles for an instant, then firms.  "I will allow you to probe my mind if you desire, to verify the truth."

She stares up at the vast, terrifying Archon above, so much greater than the others.

"I need to speak with you, Harbonah, about your rule.  About your strengths, for I believe that you are the only Archon I have yet met capable of maintaining order among your people.  Despite our past, I believe this."

She shifts from foot to foot for a moment, Berd moving in unison with her upon her shoulder.  Then relaxes.  "And I need to apologize to you.  Apologize for my own betrayal of you.  And speak to you of it, if you would grant me this boon."

Harbonah says nothing at first, seeming to consider Cyan's words, then, + YOU WOULD... APOLOGISE... + and he seems to stumble over that word, almost as if unfamiliar with its pronunciation, + ... TO US? +  Laughter rings out, loud enough that it threatens to shatter the sky.

Left moves closer to Cyan, still in her vaguely humanoid form, and speaks quietly, + Take care.  An apology might be seen as a sign of weakness. +

The laughter dies slowly, + APOLOGIES ARE IRRELEVANT.  WHAT IS DONE IS DONE.  YOU WERE A TOOL... A WEAPON... SHAPED TO SERVE OUR NEEDS, AND YOU WERE BROKEN BY MY ENEMIES, USING MEANS WE FIND DIFFICULT TO ENVISION.  WOULD YOU SEEK AN APOLOGY FROM A BROKEN SWORD?  YOU MIGHT BE ANGERED BY THE BLADE'S FAILURE, BUT YOU WOULD NOT REQUIRE THAT IT APOLOGISE TO YOU. +

+ WE ARE PUZZLED THOUGH, THAT YOU WOULD QUESTION OUR REIGN OVER THE ARCHONS.  NO OTHER COULD HOLD THEM IN CHECK AS WE DO.  NO OTHER IS STRONG ENOUGH. +