Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 (99 page)

What
was
he
reacting
to,
after
all?
He
had
only
been
thinking that
his
brother
was
acting
unusually,
but
what
did
that
mean?
No human
being
ever
really
got
to
know
another
so
well
that
he
could never
be
surprised.

Behind
him,
discussion
ceased,
and
Bleys
heard
the
sound
of
a chair
being
pushed
back.
Dahno
would
be
walking
up
behind
him
in a
moment.

Suddenly,
Bleys
was
very
conscious
that
he
was
standing
at
the edge
of
a
great
chasm,
his
back
to
a
brother
who
had
become
a stranger.
Unbidden,
his
left
hand
tightened
on
the
iron
railing
in front
of
him
...
he
could
hear
steps
approaching
from
behind.
.
.
.

Ridiculously
thought;
and
made
himself
hold
his
position.

"It
is
spectacular,
isn't
it?"
Dahno
said,
coming
up
on
Bleys' right.

Bleys
realized
that
his
eyes
were
looking
out,
unseeing,
across the
great
deep
drop,
at
the
nearest
range
of
mountains.
He
slowly tilted
his
head
downward,
feeling
the
muscles
around
his
eyes
relaxing
as
they
refocused
on
the
winding
silver
thread
that
was
a river
far
below,
shrouded
in
the
hazy
shadows
below
the
mountains.

He
leaned
forward
a
little,
to
look
over
the
railing
and
straight down
from
the
edge
of
the
cliff,
conscious
all
the
while
that
his brother's
eyes
might
be
on
him.
The
uneven
rock
face
below
him was
pitted
and
scarred,
and
there
were
remnants
of
alien-seeming blue,
red
and
white
patches,
as
if
someone
had
once
painted
some sort
of
sign
on
the
top
of
the
cliff.
Below
that,
the
rock
of
the
mountain
bulged
outward,
blocking
his
view
of
the
place
in
the
valley
below
where
the
river
passed
closest.

"I've
never
seen
anything
like
this,"
Bleys
said,
still
looking down.

Although
the
food
was
good—at
least
to
Bleys'
indifferent
palate— the
meal
was
a
disaster.
Dahno
tried
to
keep
a
conversation
going, jumping
from
subject
to
subject,
but
well
before
the
after-dinner drinks
came
he
had
lapsed
into
a
moody
silence.

"I've
enjoyed
what
I've
seen
of
this
planet,"
Bleys
said,
finally determining
to
get
to
the
point.
"And
what
you've
told
me
of
the projects
you've
gotten
up
and
running
already—it's
impressive. You've
certainly
done
exactly
what
you
were
sent
here
to
do."

Dahno's
head
came
up,
eyes
focusing
on
Bleys.
His
expression was
bleak
as
he
waited
for
Bleys
to
continue.

"I
think
you
know
what
I'm
about
to
ask,
brother,"
Bleys
went on.
"There's
something
else
going
on,
that
you
don't
want
to
tell
me about.
And
it's
important
enough
that
you're
not
your
usual
self.
I think
you
must
know
I
can
see
that
in
you."

Dahno
looked
back
across
the
table
at
him
for
a
long,
silent
moment.

"All
right,"
he
said
finally,
his
broad
face
grimacing
in
distaste. "All
right.
I
knew
you
couldn't
be
easily
taken
in,
but
I
had
to
try it."
He
shrugged.
"Because
I
didn't
like
any
of
the
other
alternatives.

"I
guess
you
could
call
me
a
bit
of
a
coward,"
he
went
on.
"But I've
been
trying
to
avoid
having
to
have
this
discussion.
You're
the only
family
I've
got,
aside
from
Henry
and
Joshua,
and
whether
you believe
it
or
not,
that's
important
to
me."

"I
believe
it,"
Bleys
said.
"I
have
similar
feelings,
I
think."

"I
know
you
do,"
Dahno
said.
"But
I
don't
delude
myself
into believing
those
feelings
would
keep
you
from
throwing
me
overboard
if
your
plans
required
it."

His
face
had
hardened
as
he
spoke,
his
jaw
setting.
The
hand that
had
been
holding
his
glass
clenched—and
then
opened
spasmodically,
the
glass
dropping
to
spill
its
contents
on
the
tabletop.

"Throw
you
overboard?"
Bleys
said.
"What
brought
that
into
your head?
I
told
you,
when
you
signed
on
with
me,
that
you'd
always have
a
place
with
me,
and
that
if
you
didn't
want
it,
you
could
retire in
comfort."
He
put
his
own
glass
down
and
raised
both
hands slightly,
holding
them
in
the
air
above
the
table,
demonstrating openness.

"You
know
about
my
long-range
mission,"
he
went
on.
"It's
all-important,
because
it's
aimed
at
saving
the
human
race.
But
you're no
threat
to
that
plan,
brother—in
fact,
you've
been
a
great
help
to me,
and
still
are,
as
far
as
I
can
tell.
Why
would
I
want
to
get
rid
of you?"