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Chapter 32

As before, the ship made directly for the seashore without stopping. This time Chuck was ready when the ocean liner became a train once again. This transformation was slow and leisurely, as the ship narrowed and elongated to fit on the tracks that led inland from the water's edge, heading into a broad river valley between rounded green mountains. Chuck kept half an eye on the spectacle, and the other half on Persemid. She was maintaining a safe distance from Morit. The Elysian did not appear to behave any differently toward her. Chuck began to hope that only Persemid had been aware of her revelation. Still, she was nervous about being left alone with Morit. She stayed close to one of the others she trusted: Bergold, Chuck, and now Hiramus, but it was Chuck who most often ran interference for her in close quarters, getting in the way if it looked as though she might have to make eye contact.

Chuck thought she was more than capable of taking care of herself. "After all," he'd told her over breakfast, "I'm the neophyte here, but I'm happy to step in and lend a hand. It's the least I can do."

"Thanks," Persemid had said. "I didn't think when I met you that you'd ever do anything so . . . unselfish." She'd looked embarrassed to have said it, but the implied rebuke had been on Chuck's mind ever since. He'd earned that. He hoped now that people considered him a nicer person to be around. He'd do anything to undo his past faults, including letting her transform him as she needed, into a defensive wall or another form of distraction so that no matter which way Morit moved, he couldn't see Persemid or meet her eyes.

"Look," Chuck said, watching out the window. "We're coming to another border crossing." As it had been between Somnus and Oneiros, there were thousands of little spans bridging the deep gap to Elysia. "How strange," Chuck said. "Almost all of them are empty. No one's using them."

"Elysia has been stable for a long time," Morit said. "We feel safe enough that we don't have to trudge back and forth to prove our freedom."

"Very commendable," Bergold said.

"Mmm," Persemid Smith mumbled, not looking at him.

Morit was upset with her. He wondered if she was on to him and the conspiracy. He had heard it rumored that Visitors could read minds, but as she hadn't brought the law down on him yet, he thought it was probably untrue. Just to make certain, he promised himself he would see to her destruction personally, if only to make certain that he had a free hand.

Chuck felt the train slowing down. The conductor came through the carriage.

"Ah, yes," he said, in answer to Chuck's question. "Just a last-minute check to make sure everything's all right in the province ahead."

Out the window, Chuck could just see the engineer climbing down the side of the cab. He swung one foot down toward the tracks, when the engine seemed to go mad. It grew twice as large as the other cars, and began bucking and snorting. Valiantly keeping his grip, the engineer climbed up to sit on the top and applied spurs to either side of the boiler with his heels.

"Hold on!" Chuck shouted to the others as he grabbed for a seat edge. The locomotive went insane, charging the rest of the way over the bridge and straight into Elysia. They heard a tremendous clang! 

"We hit the frontier hard," said Bergold, clinging to the arms of his chair.

"We're running away!" Persemid exclaimed. The landscape outside the window blurred as they were thrown back into their seats. Mrs. Flannel started screaming. Chuck hung on, grim-faced.

A brown and tan figure pulled up level with their window. A cowboy on a galloping bay horse paced them along the side of the track. He pulled a lasso from his belt and began twirling it over his head. He threw the rope and lassoed the insane locomotive. The mount dug in his hooves, as its master tied the rope around its saddle horn, and it pulled the locomotive to a halt. The engine puffed and panted as the horse stood impassive, not even sweating.

"Good horse," the cowboy said, jumping out of the saddle without a backward glimpse, and started stalking toward the engine.

"Let us see what has happened," Hiramus said, rising to his feet. Chuck sprang up to follow him. If the disguised Roan needed him, he wanted to be on hand. Bergold came with them.

The engineer was examining the firebox as they approached. "It's been tampered with," he said. "Someone put mad coal into its tender."

"Sabotage?" Chuck asked at once.

"Let's not look at it that way," the fireman pleaded. "We may have made a mistake refueling."

"It's all right now," the conductor said, stolidly. "We'll be in Frustrata in no time."

"My work here is done," the cowboy said. He tipped his hat to them, and went back to his horse. The last they saw of him, he was trotting over the hills.

"I don't like this place," Chuck said, trudging back to the car in Hiramus's wake.

"I, too, am uncomfortable," Bergold said, gazing out of the corridor windows unhappily. "Something in the air feels wrong. But, there has been no word of bad portents for months. We would have known if there was."

When they entered the first-class compartment, Morit was expounding like a genial host about the wonders of Elysia. ". . . And the gardens. My wife is an expert on the gardens."

"Oh, yes," Blanda said, with her friendly smile. "The gardens are always beautiful. Our whole city is famous for its rose gardens!"

Keir was trying to cheerlead, but he looked as blue as the others. Persemid was huddled against the wall, not looking. Sean nodded from time to time, but Chuck doubted he was listening. Everyone but Morit was edgy. Persemid looked up at the grim faces with worry.

"There was some trouble with the engine," Hiramus said. "The problem is under control."

"I do not need any more excitement," Persemid said, firmly.

Morit turned to her, annoyed that she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Then a visit to Elysia is exactly what you need, honored Visitor."

"No offense," Chuck Meadows said, "but from here nothing looks that special. I'd rather be back on the ship."

"Oh, no," Morit said. His task was nearly over. He could afford to appear friendly, knowing they would never leave. "Elysia is the home to the greatest of wonders! And don't forget about Enlightenment."

"You know," Chuck Meadows said, glumly, "I don't care if I get there or not."

"But it would be exactly what you need to forget your troubles," Morit said, firmly. He became concerned. Though it helped hurry them into Elysia, the mad coal might have been an error. The Visitors were wary now. If one managed to convince the others to turn back, he wasn't certain the border could hold them. All his plans would be in vain. He craved the destruction of them all, including their pesty guide.

How, one might ask, could a host of people with limited influence who cannot combine their strengths guarantee the destruction of a quintet of gods? With the only totally destructive force in the Dreamland, the power of Changeover. And how, might one ask, could these same powerless people chain the lightning and cause a Changeover? They couldn't, of course. But one was imminent. It was an opportunity Morit and his friends could not ignore. Their power lay in surprise. For the last weeks they had prevented anyone leaving Elysia who might carry word of the upcoming disaster to the Crown. Each using his own small bit of influence, they had controlled all the comings and goings, shooting down innumerable little birds who might have carried the tale, turning back frightened people from the border, tearing down grapevines. They had a secret prison filled with others who defied them. No one knew. Morit hugged his knowledge as a secret satisfaction to himself. He could condescend to communicate with these monsters, knowing success was unavoidable. The train, and its unwelcome passengers, were heading straight into the teeth of a Changeover.

"We're not going to run into any more trouble, are we?" Chuck asked, pale with worry.

"It'll be an experience you will never forget," Morit promised him.

Morit's prophecy seemed ready to come true on the spot. A station was rolled up beside the stopped train, and porters with shiny luggage carts were standing ready to receive the tourists. A crowd pushed against barriers, waving and shouting to the passengers. Kenner stood up from his seat and started waving madly to a slender woman just behind the rail.

"There she is!" he shouted. "There's my dream girl!" He rushed out of the car while the Visitors were still gathering up their parcels.

"They're all his dream girl," Persemid grumbled.

The barriers holding back the crowd dissolved, and the train was surrounded by well-wishers. They threw confetti in such clouds that it blotted out the sun. When the colored speckles all fluttered to the ground, the carriage was gone. Chuck and the others joined an enormous conga line that stepped and hip-thrust its way down a street full of people shouting and singing. Brightly colored ticker tapes unreeled down onto their heads. Champagne corks popped in their ears, and glasses of sparkling wine were thrust into their hands.

"What's all this?" Chuck shouted at Morit.

"They're glad you're here," Morit boomed back. He smiled grimly, raising his glass. Chuck offered him a silent toast in return, before the Elysian was swirled away by a host of his countrymen. Everyone on the sides of the street yelled out Chuck's name. He nodded and smiled to all of them. They couldn't get enough of him. After all the trouble he'd been through, this was a nice experience. Morit had been right, for a change. A bottle of wine appeared in his hand, and he started pouring from it into the glasses of everyone around him. Mrs. Flannel, looking giddy in a party hat, held out glasses for herself and Spot, a well-socialized lion who slurped his champagne with a huge pink tongue, and looked for more. He was a party animal if there ever was one.

Suddenly they were surrounded by marching bands. A very old man in an olive-green uniform saluted them, and small children sitting on their father's shoulders pointed fingers sticky with cotton candy in their direction. Chuck found himself marching alongside Bergold, who was waving to the crowd and throwing candy from his pockets. Sean was on the other side, handing out pinwheels and sparklers to children. Tumblers and clowns joined the parade. Chuck stepped proudly, his back ramrod straight, knowing that he was part of something wonderful. An elephant's gray trunk snaked around his waist. Chuck let out a little grunt of surprise as the elephant lifted him high up and set him on its back. His everyday clothes became a leotard brilliant with blue spangles. At least the muscular body he was wearing looked good in spandex. Persemid rode beside him on the hump of a camel, wearing a wizard's costume with an all-enveloping coat of rainbow hues over her usual mystical-looking garments. Hiramus, soberly clothed as always, fluttered along beside them on the back of a sea turtle swimming through midair. Keir's mount was a goat with a beard just like his. Morit threw a baton up over his head. It tumbled end over end and smacked right into his open hand as he changed direction, marching up the street between skyscrapers that Chuck hadn't noticed before.

"Wow," Chuck said to Persemid. "What do they do when they're really glad to see you?"

Their steeds deposited them in front of a reviewing stand set for dinner. Crystal and silver blazed with light from candlesticks set on a white tablecloth, and a white silk curtain hung behind them. Deferential men and women in formal attire escorted them up the stairs and helped them take their places. The parade went on, becoming louder and more colorful all the time.

Chuck was astonished by the feast. The meals he'd been served along the tour suffered by comparison with the remarkable dishes being set before him now. It was the ideal dinner. Each course that followed was more delicious and appealing than the one before. Chuck began with lobster salad, and went on through dainty after dainty gourmet treat. Wine flowed, heady and wonderful, fit for gods. No matter how much he ate, he didn't feel stuffed. He had plenty of room for more. The others kept meeting one another's eye, nodding their approval and lifting their glasses to the crowd. Soon, the audience began to clamor for more.

"Speech! Speech!" they called.

"Chuck," Keir said, giving him an owlish glance. "I think you've come the furthest, so I think you should speak first."

Embarrassed, Chuck rose from his place. He made his way to the lectern at one side of the table and leaned over the microphone.

"Can everyone hear me?" he asked. The crowd cheered and threw up its hands. "I'm honored to be here. It's been a great experience for me. Uh . . ." He looked out on all the expectant faces beaming up at him. He had no idea what to say. "Did you ever hear the story about the one-legged man and the parrot?"

Whatever else these Elysians were, Chuck thought, running through all the old jokes he could think of, they made an appreciative audience. When he couldn't think of any more, he held up a hand for silence. "Thank you! Let me introduce a fascinating woman. Persemid Smith!"

The applause was a thunderbolt that practically shook the ground.

Persemid took Chuck's place. She seemed as ill at ease as he had been, but he gestured at her encouragingly to speak. She'd like it once she tried it.

"I am grateful for your reception of us," she said. "Our fellow traveler, Mr. Nightshade, said this would be a special place. I can't express to you the joy I feel in finding a place where I feel so at home, so let's all close our eyes and meditate together. I'll try and guide you so you can understand what it is I'm feeling." The crowd looked puzzled, but they cheered and obediently closed their eyes. Some hovered above the ground, their legs in full lotus position. "Ommmm . . ." she intoned.

Sean was a man of fewer words still.

"Thank you," he said, looking out over the sea of faces, his handsome face serious. "I'm happy to be here. I'll be going home soon, and I'll never forget this. Any of this." Chuck noticed that Sean was wearing the posy of forget-me-nots in his buttonhole. He realized then that Sean had chosen life. He was glad for the man.

"Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!" the crowd began to clamor again. Chuck glanced down the table.

"What about Hiramus?" he asked. "It should be his turn."

"Gone," Keir said, pointing to an empty chair. "Go on."

"All right," Chuck said, not needing to be asked twice. This was the best audience he had ever had. He leaned over the microphone. "I've got a few more stories you'll enjoy. My kids are tired of these, so thank you. Even my grandkids don't want to hear them any more, and they're just babies." He stopped, surprised at his own words.

Grandkids? 

A little voice inside him said, "Yes." It was another revelation. Suddenly, waves of memory came flooding back. He knew he lived in a brick split-level house on a quarter-acre lot, and he had a cat and dog, and he worked as a pharmacist. They seemed ordinary memories, but they were all his. Strangely happy, Chuck went on. "But I still like telling these stories! It's fun! Yes, fun! That's the most important thing in life. You should enjoy it. Because . . . because if you don't, you might as well be dead." He felt a slight tightness in his chest. His hand flew to the hidden hole. To his delight, the edges seemed to be closer together than before. "Yes, joy! You have to allow yourself to feel pleasure. I thought just because I'd stopped achieving the big things that my life had stopped having any meaning, but I remember once, when I was younger . . ."

The chairs at the platform were emptying one by one. Now Bergold was gone, too. Oh, well, Chuck thought, going on with his speech, more time for the rest of us to talk. The appreciation of his audience was as pleasantly addictive as chocolate.

"Master Chuck!" Hiramus hissed from behind the curtain at the side of the stage. "Come down."

"Soon," Chuck said, waving to him. The crowd kept on whistling and yelling for more. ". . . And then I took my daughter to the zoo. She thought the giraffes were the funniest . . ."

"Master Chuck! Please come with me! These are only distractions! They're trying to keep you here! Master Chuck, the time for illusion is over."

Through a haze, Chuck smiled at Hiramus. "You'll just have to wait your turn," he said dreamily, turning back to his audience. The crowd laughed, as though he'd made a hilarious joke. Hiramus snaked up a long arm and hooked Chuck off the platform. Keir took his place at the microphone.

"Hey, they love me!" Chuck protested, trying to fight his way back through the curtain. "I'm not finished yet."

"We will all be finished, and more than finished if you do not listen to me," Hiramus said urgently, taking Chuck by the shoulders. Chuck fought and struck out. He caught a glimpse of Kenner, too. The athlete twisted Chuck's arm behind his back, immobilizing him. Chuck kicked back, but Kenner evaded his heel with ease. Chuck was prepared to lash out with influence, anything to get back on stage, until Hiramus started to peel off the beard he was wearing. Chuck goggled. The fact that Roan was prepared to reveal his real face meant he was serious. The spell was broken. He was all attention.

"What is happening?" he demanded.

"We've walked into a trap," Roan said, the lines around his mouth like razor cuts.

"What are you talking about?" Chuck asked, puzzled. "It's a party! Mardi Gras! Carnival!"

"Carnage is more like it," Bergold gasped, shaking himself free of the glamour that had possessed him. He was once again clad in sober plum and tan. "It's Changeover. It's happening almost under our noses."

"What?" Chuck demanded. He looked around him. Behind the curtain, there was no sign of a celebration. Only a few people, dressed in dowdy workclothes, were standing in the street watching Keir make his speech. From the stage it had looked like half a million partygoers. He would have sat there forever, until the world ended. "How?"

"My girl told me," Kenner said, indicating the dainty young woman at his side. She was the one who had been at the train station. "Genie's been trying to get a message to us. She got here just ahead of us and saw what's been going on. There's been trouble here all along. Someone, lots of someones, closed the border. People have been trapped here for days, even weeks. No one who came in could get out."

"That's why we have heard none of this at court," Bergold said, his kind face serious.

"We've been lured into the midst of disaster," Roan said. Chuck heard another roar of applause. It shook the ground, but there was an answering wave that came from deep beneath their feet. Chuck looked up in alarm. "This was all planned deliberately to bring us here unawares, and keep us here through the onset. I need your help to get the others. We have little time to get back over the border before you are all wiped out."

"Morit," Chuck said. "Persemid was right. He does mean to kill us."

"He certainly has to be part of the conspiracy," Roan said. "I don't think it is a specifically personal attack. He would never have dreamed that one of the Visitors he would attempt to destroy is his avatar."

Persemid reacted exactly as Chuck feared she would. Once they managed to haul her bodily off the dais and made her see the truth, she started screaming. The sound, cutting through the cheers and applause, brought Keir-the-wolf galloping down to find her. Chuck and the others quickly explained to him what they had seen. The spirit guide, instantly assuming human form, was agape at the sober and terrifying reality.

"We need to bring the others back here," Keir said. "Who is still up there?"

"Sean, Mrs. Flannel and Mr. Bolster," Chuck said, after a glance through the curtains. The representative from Sheep, Sheep, Fence, Moon, and Bolster was giving a detailed speech on the importance of accurate accounting. Chuck reached up and grabbed a dinner roll off the edge of the table.

"I'll get Spot to come to me," he said, "and Mrs. Flannel will come looking for him." But when he took the chunk of bread behind the curtain, it vanished.

"Part of the illusion of hospitality," Roan said. "None of the food we ate was real."

"No wonder I never felt full." Chuck took his one remaining bag off his back and started searching in it. He hadn't been able to find those snacks before, but he was sure they were still in it somewhere. To his relief, one of the side pockets contained a single dog biscuit. He held one out and threw the empty suitcase aside. "Hey, Spot!"

The lion beside the little old woman's chair rose majestically to its feet. It trotted over to Chuck, sniffing with interest at the biscuit. The king of the beasts became a white toy poodle, which sat up on its haunches to beg. Chuck gave it the treat. Mrs. Flannel immediately noticed her pet was gone.

"Spot? Spot?" she called. Sean helped her push her chair back. Chuck beckoned to them, and to Mr. Bolster when he looked around to see what was happening behind him. Keir must have thrown a whammy to undo the attraction of the audience, because all three came toward him, asking questions at once.

Keir explained in a few sentences. They were all alarmed, but Master Bolster was intelligent enough to ask the only important question.

"How long do we have?"

"No time at all!"

As one, the group spun around. Morit and his minions were behind them, a host that spread out across the land as far as Chuck could see. Protectively, Chuck moved out in front of Persemid and Mrs. Flannel.

"You walked out on our entertainment," Morit said, sneering. The Elysian's eyes gleamed out from hooded brows like a snake's, and he wore a black cloak that swirled in the dusty wind. His gleaming white teeth were pointed like a shark's. He had grown to twice the size of an ordinary man, and grew larger with every step he took toward them. "Just because you rule the universe doesn't mean you shouldn't show . . . good . . . manners!"

"We didn't want to bore them," Chuck said, steeling himself to sound casual. "I think they listened to all the speeches they had to."

"Then, listen to mine," Morit boomed, spreading his cloak upon the wind. He no longer looked shy or reserved, or any of the other characteristics Chuck had ascribed to him. He wore the terrifying aspect of an evil elemental as he pointed directly at each Visitor in turn. "You are not welcome here. You are the source of every evil thing that has ever happened to us—to me, especially. We can't do anything about the Waking World, but we don't want any of your kind ever coming back to the Dreamland."

"Dreamland for the Dreamed!" the crowd at his back shouted.

"But it's our purpose to ease their minds for them," Bergold pointed out, as the angry crowd surrounded them. "We would not be here without their need. It's a small price to pay for existence."

"And you, you traitor! Sleeper-friend! You will die with all of them," Morit snarled, turning on the Historian. "There is no way out of here except through us. They're a thousand times more powerful than any of us, but we have numbers and organization on our side." He turned slowly to Chuck, and the shadowed eyes glowed with a fanatic light.

"You!" Morit spat. "You have kept going on about your discontentment. You can have your wish. All you have to do is stay here. It'll be the easy way out. All you have to do is . . . nothing."

"No," Chuck said hoarsely, looking up at the monster man. He trembled for life that had become more precious than it had ever been before. He felt the edges of the hole in his chest slide outward. He couldn't fall apart now. "I don't want to die. I'm ready to live."

"That's a shame," Morit said, smiling so all his shark's teeth showed at once. "You'll never be able to find your way out of the province. This has been planned a long, long time. You won't be able to tell what's real and what isn't until it's too late."

"How about this?" Persemid said, stepping forward and gazing straight at him. "I'll show you something real, you ungrateful monster."

Chuck Meadows tried to pull her back, but she shook off his hand. Morit recoiled, but curiosity made him look deep into the redhaired woman's eyes. Memories exploded at him like accusations, pummeling him with emotions and one undeniable fact. His face paled.

"You!" His voice had dropped to a whisper. He pointed at her, and his hand trembled. "It's all you."

"I have the right to exist," Persemid said, her cheeks burning. "Even you do. You can't hold us here."

The lines around Morit wavered. Chuck felt a hand on his shoulder. Roan was nodding to him over Persemid's head. Together, they took her arms and drew her away. Morit just stood there, staring into space. With every second, he shrank, the fury that had helped puff him up leaking from his punctured sensibilities. Roan guided them away from the center of the circle, walking slowly and calmly. With a burst of influence, Roan opened the way between rows of people. He urged the others through, moving at an even, steady pace. Chuck fell in behind him, his heart pounding in his hollow chest.

From behind them came a cry. Morit had recovered from his shock.

"Stop them!" he shouted. Chuck glanced over his shoulder. The Elysian came riding toward them on the crest of a moving wave of earth. It was the most terrifying thing Chuck had ever seen. Morit's eyes were wild and red-rimmed like a fiend's.

"Run," Roan advised, taking to his heels. Persemid was still in a kind of trance from her confrontation. Chuck and Sean had to take her by the arms and lifted her right off the ground.

"Oh, dear! Oh, Spot!" Mrs. Flannel cried. She scurried along in their wake. Chuck looked back. The old woman couldn't run for very long. The horde was not far off her heels. He couldn't let them harm her. He grabbed Keir by the arm. "Help Persemid!"

The spirit guide was already transforming into the largest white wolf that Chuck had ever seen. He dashed around in a U-turn, coming up underneath Persemid's legs, so that within two paces the plump woman was riding the wolf, her hands clutching the ruff of fur on his neck. Chuck doubled back to pick up Mrs. Flannel. With her and Spot in his arms he put on a burst of speed faster than he had ever been able to run before. He had to get to the border!

"You can't get away!" Morit shouted after them, his voice dying away in the distance. "I'll get all of you if I have to discontinue to do it!" Spot barked defiance over his mistress's shoulder. "And your little dog, too!"

"Unfortunately, that," Persemid said, ruefully, "he probably did get from me."

They fled up the street. Obviously, not everyone in Elysia was tied up with the plot to kill the Visitors. Thousands of ordinary people ran around like wild animals, terrified, not knowing which way to go. The whole province seemed to have become a dust bowl. Every step they took threw up clouds that blocked their view in any direction.

"How do we get out of here?" Chuck asked.

"Back over the bridge," Keir said. "We're not far."

"Which way is it?" Persemid asked.

"The tracks!" Roan exclaimed. "Find the train tracks. There should be signs to the station."

But Morit's people were determined not to let their quarry escape. Chuck was the first one to spot the sign on the ground. All directions had been painted over or torn off walls. Almost by accident, Sean stumbled on the bright stripe of metal almost concealed in the powdery dust.

"Here it is," he shouted.

"But where is the train?" Chuck asked.

"Gone," said Mr. Bolster, consulting his watch and a schedule. "We've been in there longer than we thought. The train must stay on schedule."

"Morit's men probably told the conductor to go on without us," Roan said. "Once the engineer worked out that Changeover was imminent, he probably put the locomotive into warp drive. They are long gone."

"Dammit!" Chuck shouted. Just when they needed it the most, the faithful transport was out of reach. "Never mind. We'll just have to find our own way out."

A tremor shook the ground, knocking them off their feet. Chuck threw himself on his back so he wouldn't land on Mrs. Flannel.

"The destruction is beginning," Bergold said. "We do not have much time."

Cracks opened in the pavement, swallowing unlucky Dreamlanders who were racing along it at the time. Clambering to his feet, Chuck grabbed a man as he passed and set his feet on the rail.

"That's the way toward Somnus," he said. "Run for it!" The man needed no persuading. He started running, growing wheels instead of legs. Chuck took a woman and her child by the arm. "Follow him! Go on! That's the way to safety!" With a look of gratitude, the mother took her son and hurried along, keeping her eye on the steel ribbon. Small white lights along the track began to illuminate in sequence, leading the two to safety.

"We ought to go, too, Mrs. F.," Master Bolster said, taking Mrs. Flannel's hand. He looked up at Chuck. "I'll escort her to the bridge."

Kenner caught up with them, pulling his girlfriend behind him. "Genie said there's lots of people being held back, stuffed into warehouses. She told me where they're being kept. We can get them out if we hurry."

In spite of his fear, Chuck felt compassion for those helpless people. "I'll come with you," he said.

"Thanks," Kenner said. He turned to the woman and swept her into his arms. "Honey, you'd better get over the border now. Things are about to get really ugly."

"I don't want to go without you," she said, passionately holding him to her.

"I don't want you to go now that I've found you," he said, "but you've got to. Save yourself. Don't worry, darling. I'll see you on the other side." He gave her a brave smile, which she returned.

"I know," the young woman said, her eyes full of love. "You always come back to me." With a last touch of his hand, she started running.

As she sped away, she went through change after change. Chuck thought at first the alterations were due to the upheavals Elysia was undergoing, but to his astonishment he recognized all the forms. She was the tiny Asian girl, the China doll, the Hawaiian beauty, the fair Germanic-looking girl, the tawny French one, the Mediterranean knockout with the nose and the hourglass figure. When she paused just before she got out of sight, she had stopped changing, a tiny-boned woman with hazel-brown eyes and blonde hair. She smiled sweetly at Kenner. Chuck gawked. All of his girlfriends had been the same woman!

Kenner looked stunned, too. "She is always there," he said. "It's always her."

"And you didn't know?" Chuck asked Kenner.

"No!" the athlete said, shaking his head slowly. "Not really. I thought I wanted all kinds of different women, but they've all been exactly like her." He shook his head. "Well, I've been stupid. I'm glad I figured it out before it was too late."

"It's not too late," Chuck insisted. "It's never too late if we get out alive."

Kenner shook his head in disbelief. "Well, what do you know?"

Chuck turned to Persemid. "You should get out of here, too. The minute we double back we're on Morit's turf again."

"Never," she said, her eyes flashing. "It's my fault that man exists. I can at least help save the people he's imprisoned before this place goes up!"

"I should go alone," Roan said. "I am the only one who won't be harmed by Changeover." A haunted expression appeared for a moment on his handsome face. "I've lived through them before."

"No," said Chuck, firmly. "You can't fight an army. Morit will be looking for us. We go together."

Roan looked around at the circle of resolute faces.

"Then we must hurry, before the cataclysm is fully upon us."

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