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  The Devil's Eye

  ( Alex Benedict - 4 )

  Jack Mcdevitt

  Jack McDevitt

  The Devil's Eye

  For Mike Cabry, the last rebel

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I'm indebted to David DeGraff of Alfred University, for the concept, and to Walter Cuirle, for technical guidance. To Ginjer Buchanan, for editorial assistance. To Ralph Vicinanza, for his continuing support. And, as always, to Maureen McDevitt, for major contributions.

  PROLOGUE

  SALUD AFAR

  Edward Demery was alone the night it happened. He was sitting in his living room, half-dozing, while the HV ran images from the Sabel asteroid, which was way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. A dozen people in pressure suits stood around a monument on an airless plain while one of them went on about God and how future generations would always come to this spot, and be dazzled by this monument, and remember what their obligations were to the Almighty. The speaker was a woman, but he couldn't tell which of the twelve was doing the oration. "-And maybe, when they come," she said, "they will remember us, too." Applause doesn't work well in pressure suits. So they all simply raised their fists over their helmets. Demery got up and went to the window. Lightning blossomed in the distant sky. Salud Afar was on the edge of the galaxy. Was, in fact, twenty thousand light-years out from the rim. On a clear night, you could see the glow that marked the frontier of the Milky Way. At the moment, though, the glow was still below the horizon.

  "- I want to thank Vasho Colunis, for his determination to see this project through-"

  He gazed out at the only star in the sky. Callistra. Its soft azure light softened the night, inspired poets, illuminated weddings. And it sometimes appealed to those with a religious sensibility. Like the men and women mounting their monument on that distant asteroid. It was thirty-six light-years out, part of a sea of rocks, drifting through the night, belonging to no particular system. In time, they'd drift back into the galaxy. Tonight, Callistra was performing as a religious symbol. The asteroid on which the Family of God was mounting its monument had been chosen because it lay directly between the world and the great blue star. The monument consisted of a crystal polyhedron atop a sphere, the whole mounted on a block. The polyhedron represented the many faces of mankind; the spherical base, the unflinching support of God.

  "- And Jara Capis, who conceived the motif-"

  Actually there was a second light in the sky. That was the planet Naramitsu, low on the horizon. But it was easy to overlook. "-Last but not least, Kira Macara, who designed the monument." One of the figures took a bow. The others raised fists in approval. Demery lived in a house overlooking the sea. It was a beautiful spectacle this time of year, with summer lightning in the west and the single star overhead. The settlers who'd first come to Salud Afar, thousands of years earlier, had undoubtedly possessed a love for the outpost it had been in those days. This was where you came if you liked to be alone. It was a place that was not only remote, but which nightly reminded them how far they'd come from the crowded spaces of the Confederacy.

  "- Ask the Reverend Garik to give the blessing."

  He'd been born under the opulent skies of Rimway. There, inside the galaxy, the stars somehow detracted from each other. When they were, as someone once said, like the campfires of an ancient army, you didn't notice any in particular. They were simply there . "In this sublime moment, let us bow our heads before the Universal God-" The voice was still feminine, but it was less compelling. It had the ritual singsong lilt that preachers seemed always to acquire. "-Let us acknowledge-" He was still looking out at the sea and the sky when the voice stopped. And he became aware that the

  light from the HV had changed. Had gone out. He turned and saw only a flickering gray luminescence in the center of the room. Then a man appeared, in the business dress of an anchor. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "we seem to have lost the signal at its source. We are trying to reacquire it now and will finish the broadcast as soon as we are able. Meantime, we will be joining a concert from the Bayliss Room in Old Marinopolis."

  Soft music filled the room. A voice told him he was listening to the "gilded strains" of the Frontrunners. He was looking across a dance floor at five musicians on a stage. They were playing something he remembered from his youth. "My Time with You." Yes, that was it. He sat down again. The Frontrunners played through, finished, and started something else. The volume went down. Vanished. A voice informed him they were still trying to reestablish contact with the Sabel Monument ceremony. And reassured him it would be back shortly. Eventually, he shut it down and switched to a book.

  ONE

  Civilization is about constructing and maintaining a coherent time line to the past. If we are to know who we are, and where we are going, we must remember where we have been and who took us there.

  - Etude in Black

  THIRTY-THREE YEARS LATER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN, OFF THE AFRICAN COAST

  Atlantis, despite all the hoopla, was no big deal. I mean, how could it be after twelve thousand years at the bottom of the sea? Alex and I looked out the cabin windows at the ruins, which weren't much more than mounds in the quiet, clear water. You could still pick out a wall here and there. Not much else. There'd been periodic talk of restoration over the centuries, but the prevailing opinion had always been that if you restored it, it would no longer be Atlantis. Navigation lamps came on as we moved across the seascape. Fish and eels, drawn by the lights, peered in at us. Overhead, a tourist boat was descending. None of us had ever been there. Alex gazed thoughtfully out at the remnants of the fabled civilization, and I knew exactly what he was thinking: how the place had looked in the sunlight, when children played in the courtyards, and trees shaded the walkways. I knew also that he'd have liked to take a few pieces of it home. The captain's voice came over the intercom, pointing out this or that pile of rubble. "Now passing the Temple of Akiva, ladies and gentlemen." "The structure just ahead is believed to have been the main library." "On your left, just beyond that large mound-"

  He wasn't happy playing escort to two Mute passengers, but I had to concede he had taken it well. His discomfort did not show in his voice. And okay, I'll confess I wasn't exactly relaxed either. One of the Mutes was Selotta, who was the director at the Museum of Alien Life-forms on Borkarat, one of the principal Mute worlds. She was accompanied by her mate, Kassel (emphasis on the second syllable). She'd bailed me out during my trip into the Assemblage the year before. We'd promised each other we'd get together, Selotta explained she'd always wanted to visit Earth, so there we were. During the two weeks we'd been together, I'd been happy to discover I was less horrified by their appearance than had been the case when I made my first foray into Ashiyyurean society. It's going overboard to say they resemble giant mantises, but they are extremely tall, and their flesh has a husklike quality. It's leathery. Old leather. Leather that's been oiled a bit too much. Their faces are vaguely humanoid, with arched diamond eyes. They have to struggle to produce anything resembling a human smile. And, of course, a forced smile never works anyhow, especially when it's disrupted by canines. If you've ever seen one up close, you already know that the effect they have on people, scaring the daylights out of them, isn't produced by their appearance so much as by the fact that human minds lie open to them. No secret is safe when a Mute's in the room. I hadn't met Kassel on my journey to Borkarat. In fact, my time with Selotta had been only a few minutes. But if such a thing was possible with a Mute, it seemed we had bonded. And Alex, always anxious for a new experience, especially one that would take him to the mother world, came along. We'd started from the Washington, D.C., site, and embarked on a round-the-world tour. We'd gone first to the world capital at Corysel. Then across the Pac
ific to Micronesia. It was Selotta, with her interest in archeology, who suggested Atlantis. I'd been reluctant, at first. For one thing, they'd had to install special seats on the diver. But, Alex said, intending it as a joke, why visit Earth if you're not going to stop off at Atlantis?

  Contrary to the early myths, Atlantis had possessed no advanced technology. The inhabitants had managed to install running water and central heating. But then, so had the Hellenes. Virtually nothing was known of their history. The city had thrived for about six hundred years. It had been built on an island, of course, and not on a continent. Plato had been correct in reporting that it had engaged its continental neighbors in periodic wars. Surviving sculpture confirmed that. But who had served as their kings? What had mattered to them? We had no idea. The city had been discovered late in the third millennium. Unfortunately, no serious effort was made to secure its archeological treasures. Consequently, during the following centuries, it had been stripped. Exploiters descended and took everything they could find. These would have been Alex's progenitors, of course, although he would never have admitted it, and I saw no reason to stir things up since I profited from the same sort of activity. In any case, by the time a security system was installed, more than a thousand years after the discovery, it was far too late. "As far as I know," said Kassel, "there is nothing comparable to this in the Assemblage." He spoke through a voice box that also acted as a translator. It was designed to look like a silver medallion, attached to a chain around his neck. "Nothing comparable whatever." His black diamond eyes reflected his reaction. The end of a world. How must it have felt when the ocean came crashing in? Did they have any warning? Had any managed to escape? Imagine the despair of mothers burdened with young children. "Terrible," said Selotta. "Young mothers, especially. It must have been-" She caught herself, and her eyes flicked shut in embarrassment: She'd forgotten her strategy of not reminding her hosts that everybody's mind, as she'd once commented, lay fully exposed on the table. "-Must have been painful." "It was a long time ago," said Alex. She pressed long, gray fingers against the viewport, as if to hold time at bay. "I have no real experience with places like this. Do they always feel this way?" Kassel was a politician, roughly equivalent to a mayor of a medium-sized city. He had also once been a captain in the Ashiyyurean fleet. "I think it's because of the ocean," he said. "It encases everything, somehow. Preserves it. There's no sense of passing time. Everything freezes." The other passengers had been reluctant about sharing cabin space with the aliens. In the boarding area, everyone had given us a wide berth. The place had filled with whispers, audible even above the symphonic background music. There was no hostility. But the crowd was afraid. Everybody kept their distance. "Stay with me, Louie."

  "Keep back." "No, they won't hurt you. But stay here."

  When I tried to apologize for the attitude of the other passengers, Kassel said no harm was being done. "Selotta tells me our people were not exactly welcoming when you visited us." "They were fine. I think I just stood out a little." "Eventually," he said, "this will all go away, and we'll stand together as friends and allies." That got Alex's attention. "It's hard to see that happening," he said. "At least in our lifetime." Kassel was less pessimistic. "What we need is a common cause. Something that would inspire us to unite." "That sounds like a common enemy ," I said. "That would do it, of course." He closed his eyes. "But a common enemy would solve one problem only to present us with a greater. No, we need something of a different sort." "What did you have in mind?" "I don't know. A joint challenge. Or a mutual project, perhaps. Like joining our resources to send a mission to Andromeda."

  Selotta and Kassel were dressed in terrestrial-style clothing. They wore slacks and loose-fitting shirts. Kassel had even tried wearing an outdoors-man's hat. But it was several sizes too small. He'd taken it off and given it to me when I was unable to conceal my reaction: It looked ridiculous. They tried smiling in an effort to calm everyone. But there was too much of the canines. Their smiles never failed to scare everybody in sight. It was the same on the diver. The captain was supposed to come back, say hello, ask if there was anything he could do for his passengers. But the door to the bridge had stayed shut. "And over here-" His voice came out of the address system. "There, where the light is, was the seat of government. Nobody knows what they called it, or even what kind of government they had. But that's where they made the decisions."

  "There's a little bit of 'Ozymandias' in this place," said Selotta. "Except on a larger scale." "You know 'Ozymandias'?" I asked. "Of course." She showed her fangs briefly. "The theme is common at home. One of the most famous of our classical dramas, Koros , plays against the same idea. Vanished glory, look on my works, everything passes. In Koros , the overwhelming symbol is sand. Just like Shelley." There were maybe twelve other passengers in the charter. I was in my chair while we drifted through Atlantis, down the main boulevard, still trying not to think about all that stuff that drifts around in your head that you have no control over. So I glanced at Kassel and wondered how a person would manage an affair if his mate could read his mind. It reminded me how little I really knew about the Mutes. Had Selotta ever cheated? I cringed as the thought intruded itself. Kassel snorted. It was half laughter, half sneeze. "It's okay," he said. He squeezed my shoulder, and his eyes locked with Selotta's. Selotta showed her fangs again. "You try too hard, Chase," she said. "And, if you would know the truth, we share everything." The truth was I didn't know quite what she meant, but she picked that up, too. "Use your imagination," she added. It wasn't a place I wanted to go. Alex looked in my direction and delivered one of those innocent smiles to let me know he understood precisely what was going on. I swear, sometimes his ability to do that left me wondering whether he had a few Mutes in the family.

  Eventually the captain showed up. He was wearing a dumb smile and went on about how he hoped we were all comfortable and enjoying the cruise. He made it a point to look everywhere except at his Ashiyyurean passengers. Don't want to stare, you know. His eyes touched mine, and he let me see how

  uncomfortable he was, how he wished we'd keep our friends home next time. I knew he was wondering how far the telepathic reach of the aliens extended. Was he safe on the bridge? I had no idea. But he probably wasn't. "He is safe enough," said Selotta, "unless we extend ourselves." "He doesn't mean anything by it," I said. "I know. I have the same sort of reaction to him." When he was safely away, Alex chuckled. Kassel did that deep-throated rumble that passed for a laugh. "He's shallow water, Alex," he said. " You , on the other hand, are hard to read." "Low IQ?" I asked. "He doesn't try to empty his mind," said Selotta. "It's a bad idea to sit and try not to think about things." "So Alex fills it up," added Kassel. "He concentrates on the Konish Dynasty and the kind of silverware they had, and what their plates looked like and why the latter-day glassware is worth so much more than the early stuff." "Ah, you've found me out." There was a touch of pride in Alex's voice. "It's rather like crowd noise," said Kassel, innocently. Alex pretended to take offense. "Konish Dynasty antiques are not crowd noise." "Point of view, my friend. Point of view."

  We started for the surface. The captain's voice thanked us for using Atlantis Tours, expressed his hope that we'd enjoyed ourselves, and invited us to come back soon. The other passengers gave us plenty of room as we filed out. The pier was big, but the deck was moving sufficiently that some people grabbed for handrails. Most looked for the taxi area; others made for one of the restaurants. We headed toward a restaurant. We were halfway there when Jay Carmody appeared. Jay was one of Alex's colleagues and a longtime friend. It had been a marvelous two weeks, and Carmody was bringing the wrap-up, a parting gift for the Ashiyyureans. It was in a white box. And it was supposed to be a surprise. To ensure that, neither of us knew what Carmody had gotten. "Just make sure it's something to blow the roof off," Alex had said. But as soon as Carmody started toward us, I heard somebody gasp. Selotta, I think. And she knew. They both knew. "Jay," said Alex, "do you want to show us what's in the box?" "Abso
lutely." He was glowing. We sat down on adjoining benches, and he removed the lid. The Mutes had both gone absolutely still. It was a brick . Sealed in a plastene container. At first I thought it was a joke, but I'd seen the reaction of our guests. "Atlantis?" asked Alex. Carmody smiled. "From the Temple of Akiva. Rear courtyard. Removed in the thirty-second century by Roger Tomas, donated originally to the London Museum, and later taken to the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. Eventually it wound up in Berlin. It's been around." He reached into his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper. "Certificate of authenticity, signed on behalf of the current owner." He was facing Alex, but he was talking to Selotta and Kassel. "I've gone over the bona fides thoroughly. A complete copy of the record is in the box." He handed it to Alex. "I hope it's satisfactory." Nobody could ever say Alex was in the antiquities business purely for the money. Well, people had said it. In fact, they said it all the time. But it wasn't true. I'll concede he has an affection for the bottom line, but if you show him something like a vase that had once stood in Mesmeranda's villa, or maybe the chair that Remus Alverol had tossed across the room when news arrived of the massacre at Port Walker, his eyes positively lit up. That was what I saw at that moment, watching him gaze down at that brick. Placed by human hands in the courtyard of the goddess, probably on a sunny day like this one, twelve thousand years ago, removed forty-five centuries later by an archeologist who had himself become a legend. This was the single most valuable piece that we'd acquired in the four years we'd been in operation. And now he was about to-

  - Give it away. He handed it to me. "You were the one she took care of," he said. And I passed it to her. "It's yours, Selotta. For you and Kassel. I hope you'll keep it for yourself." "-Rather than give it to the museum," she said. "Yes. It's for you . With our appreciation." Carmody took pictures. Selotta, clearly flustered, shook her head in a human gesture and held up her hands to decline. "I can't accept this, Chase," she said. "Not possibly. You and Alex arranged the tour for us. That's enough." Alex was nothing if he wasn't a charmer. He smiled and glanced at Kassel. "You're a lucky man to have so lovely a spouse," he said. Kassel, perhaps surprised at being called a man, licked his lips with that long forked tongue in a gesture that suggested the details were wrong but it was okay. "Please," she continued. "I can't imagine the price you must have paid. I can't let you do this." "It's okay, Selotta," Alex said. "It's something we wanted to do for you."