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could aid her body, minimize the harm, but the point was that, without someone
with the power, it couldn't make what she needed. It felt frustrated, for it
knew all the spells but had no way to carry them out.
Spirit might be discovered tomorrow, but it could sense no one nearby, not
now, and while there was a red string nearby, indicating a main trail to
somewhere, there was no telling exactly where it led. To direct her into the
hands of the very people who had done this was not in Spirit's, or the
Rider's, best interest.
The line, the link that connected it to its unseen master, was open and
functioning. Certainly what had happened had been monitored and recorded, it
thought. Why was I directed to this poor woman if only to watch her die? They
may be searching now, but they may have done so com-
plete a job that no one even knows about it, and won't for weeks. It was often
that long, or longer, between visitors to the Fluxland.
The Soul Rider, for the first time in many lifetimes of hosts, was confused
enough to transmit a request for instructions, rather than simply waiting for
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a command to come.
And, to its surprise, there was a reply, in the complex binary code that was
its language.
Probabilities indicate the unlikelihood of regaining the established
protector, the message said.
Therefore a pragmatic, although radical, course is called for. Therefore,
direct contact is authorized in the following manner.
It went on to feed the proper strings of instruction, and the
Soul Rider recorded it and was amazed by its simplicity and excited by its
potential. Never before had a Soul Rider been permitted to make direct contact
with a human intelligence, although it altered and influenced human behavior.
It understood that this exception was being made because they wanted Spirit
the way she was for some reason, and because Spirit could not communicate
anything except the most basic information to another, by pantomime.
Coydt's spell had altered the internal language by which Spirit's brain
processed information.
The new language the Soul Rider had always known was mathematical in nature,
but now it was clear through the strings that it was a simplified variant of
its own. Until now, it had not been permitted to recognize this, although it
was more than logical. It knew her every thought and feeling.
It sent out a tentative probe, and Spirit woke up with a start, very puzzled.
She could have sworn, although it was impossible, that someone was calling her
name.
Spirit? Do not be afraid. . . .
It was something but it wasn't sound, and it wasn't a voice. She was thinking
it but it wasn't her! Or was it? Had the experience driven her mad?
It is real. Spirit. I must use your own mind to communicate, so when I must
talk, you cannot.
But I understand your thoughts. I have always understood them.
"Who are you?"
I am a spirit of Flux and Anchor. Many call me the Soul Rider.
She didn't know whether to believe her own thoughts or not. She was confused,
a bit afraid, and yet very excited. It was the first time she had been able to
talk to anyone in a long, long time. If she was just crazy, well what
difference did it make?
The excitement turned to anger and frustration.
"Why has it taken so long for you to speak?
Don't you know how desperate I was to talk with someone, anyone?"
I was not permitted to know how. I begged for a way to help you, and received
the knowledge.
"Who
gives you permission? How?"
I do not know. None of us knows. We have no choice in what we do but to follow
orders.
"But not this time?"
No. Not this time. My masters believe you are of some future service to them.
"What happened back there?"
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One of the Seven, aided by a dugger cult, attacked your mother as she was
outside, rendered her inoperative, and carried her away. Your home was
destroyed by that same one of the Seven, using one of the great amplifiers of
Flux power. That is all I know.
"Is my mother dead?"
No. I receive data sufficient to indicate that they intend to render her
harmless in a way that is different than but at least as restricting as what
you must bear.
She didn't like the sound of that.
"Will it work?"
Unknown, but the probability is that it will. The Seven would not take on a
top wizard, a Soul
Rider, and a construct of one of the Nine unless they were very certain of
themselves. The mere fact that it was done puts the probability of success
over the eighty percentile mark.
"I I don't understand numbers any more."
It will work.
"Oh."
She felt genuine sorrow, and tears came to her eyes, but she knew it was
useless to dwell on things she could neither understand nor control. She let
the sorrow pass, then said, "Then I am alone now."
You are not alone, nor am I. We will never be alone again. Allow me to control
your body commands, and we will find food and drink.
"You can do that?"
There is a stringer trail nearby, a main one running between Anchors and major
Fluxlands.
Such trails have pockets the stringers create for themselves so that they
might have food and water if need be. We will find one.
It was a curious sensation. She got up and began to walk, and she had no
control over it at all.
She had never feared the Soul Rider, nor did she now, but the whole thing was
unnerving. They came to the string in a short while, and she stood there while
the Rider probed.
They are searching for you.
"They? Who's 'they?' Friends or enemies?"
Unknown. It is a relative concept, anyway. Do you wish to be discovered?
''Without knowing who's who?"
Then we will avoid them. Come, we will move away from the string and follow it
in parallel.
The nearest pocket is barely within my range, but we can get there fairly
quickly. You can run, you know, at the speed of a trotting horse.
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"I know. I was just thinking about my son." I know your thoughts, remember.
When you have fed and watered, we will seek out one of the Nine who will be
able to help.
This is the land where dwells the chairman of the Nine, Mervyn.
"I I think I was there once."
More than once. But it is dangerous to enter. Agents are watching the sole
entrance and charting the comings and goings. It is most certainly how they
found you in the first place. They have things that could hurt or kill you. I
cannot read the composition of those inside the Fluxland from this distance,
but certainly there are friends, powerful friends, inside.
She hesitated.
"Do they want me?"
The only minds open to me are minds which I have entered. I can calculate
probabilities, but even here that is impossible. They may, or they may not.
The odds go both ways.
She didn't know what to do.
"What do you recommend?"
I have no directive. It is a question of what you want and feel. If we try,
and are not captured, they will know you are safe. Your loved one will be
reassured.
She thought about it.
"But if I go in, I will stay in. They will fear for me, and I will be kept
from all harm. I have a nightmare of being captured and put on display. This
would be little different, even if it is my son and my friends."
Is it so different from what you had?
"Yes. I didn't have you. Alone, there would be no choice, but I only stayed
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