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'Will I be able to see？'
'You'll know in a second；' the Captain said； and put a hand just beneath each of Jack's armpits and lifted him cleanly off the floor。 'There is a panel in front of you now；' he whispered。 'Slide it to the left。'
Jack blindly reached out before him and touched smooth wood。 It slid easily aside； and enough light fell into the passage for him to see a kitten…sized spider scrambling toward the ceiling。 He was looking down into a room the size of a hotel lobby； filled with women in white and furniture so ornate that it brought back to the boy all the museums he and his parents had visited。 In the center of the room a woman lay sleeping or unconscious on an immense bed； only her head and shoulders visible above the sheet。
And then Jack nearly shouted with shock and terror； because the woman on the bed was his mother。 That was his mother； and she was dying。
'You saw her；' the Captain whispered； and braced his arms more firmly。
Open…mouthed； Jack stared in at his mother。 She was dying； he could not doubt that any longer： even her skin seemed bleached and unhealthy； and her hair； too； had lost several shades of color。 The nurses around her bustled about； straightening the sheets or rearranging books on a table； but they assumed this busy and purposeful manner because they had no real idea of how to help their patient。 The nurses knew that for such a patient there was no real help。 If they could stave off death for another month； or even a week； they were at the fullest extent of their powers。
He looked back at the face turned upward like a waxen mask and finally saw that the woman on the bed was not his mother。 Her chin was rounder； the shape of her nose slightly more classical。 The dying woman was his mother's Twinner； it was Laura DeLoessian。 If Speedy had wanted him to see more； he was not capable of it： that white moveless face told him nothing of the woman behind it。
'Okay；' he whispered； pushing the panel back into place； and the Captain lowered him to the floor。
In the darkness he asked； 'What's wrong with her？'
'Nobody can find that out；' came from above him。 'The Queen cannot see； she cannot speak； she cannot move ' There was silence for a moment； and then the Captain touched his hand and said； 'We must return。' They quietly emerged from blackness into the dusty empty room。 The Captain brushed ropy cobwebs from the front of his uniform。 His head cocked to one side； he considered Jack for a long moment； worry very plain upon his face。 'Now you must answer a question of mine；' he said。
'Yes。'
'Were you sent here to save her？ To save the Queen？'
Jack nodded。 'I think so…I think that's part of it。 Tell me just one thing。' He hesitated。 'Why don't those creeps out there just take over？ She sure couldn't stop them。'
The Captain smiled。 There was no humor in that smile。 'Me；' he said。 'My men。 We'd stop them。 I know not what they may have gotten up to in the Outposts； where order is thin…but here we hold to the Queen。'
A muscle just below the eye on the unscarred cheekbone jumped like a fish。 He was pressing his hands together； palm to palm。 'And your directions； your orders； whatever； are to 。 。 。 ah； to go west； is that correct？'
Jack could practically feel the man vibrating； controlling his growing agitation only from a lifetime's habit of self…discipline。 'That's right；' he said。 'I'm supposed to go west。 Isn't that right？ Shouldn't I go west？ To the other Alhambra？'
'I can't say； I can't say；' the Captain blurted； taking a step backward。 'We have to get you out of here right now。 I can't tell you what to do。' He could not even look at Jack now； the boy saw。 'But you can't stay here a minute longer…let's； ah； let's see if we can get you out and away before Morgan gets here。'
'Morgan？' Jack said； almost thinking that he had not heard the name correctly。 'Morgan Sloat？ Is he ing here？'
CHAPTER 7
Farren
1
The Captain appeared not to have heard Jack's question。 He was looking away into the corner of this empty unused room as if there were something there to see。 He was thinking long and hard and fast； Jack recognized that。 And Uncle Tommy had taught him that interrupting an adult who was thinking hard was just as impolite as interrupting an adult who was speaking。 But…
Steer clear of ole Bloat。 Watch for his trail…his own and his Twinner's 。 。 。 he's gonna be after you like a fox after a goose。
Speedy had said that； and Jack had been concentrating so hard on the Talisman that he had almost missed it。 Now the words came back and came home with a nasty double…thud that was like being hit in the back of the neck。
'What does he look like？' he asked the Captain urgently。 'Morgan？' the Captain asked； as if startled out of some interior dream。
'Is he fat？ Is he fat and sorta going bald？ Does he go like this when he's mad？' And employing the innate gift for mimicry he'd always had…a gift which had made his father roar with laughter even when he was tired and feeling down…Jack 'did' Morgan Sloat。 Age fell into his face as he laddered his brow the way Uncle Morgan's brow laddered into lines when he was pissed off about something。 At the same time； Jack sucked his cheeks in and pulled his head down to create a double chin。 His lips flared out in a fishy pout and he began to waggle his eyebrows rapidly up and down。 'Does he go like that？'
'No；' the Captain said； but something flickered in his eyes； the way something had flickered there when Jack told him that Speedy Parker was old。 'Morgan's tall。 He wears his hair long'…the Captain held a hand by his right shoulder to show Jack how long…'and he has a limp。 One foot's deformed。 He wears a built…up boot； but…' He shrugged。
'You looked like you knew him when I did him！ You…'
'Shhh！ Not so God…pounding loud； boy！' Jack lowered his voice。 'I think I know the guy；' he said…and for the first time he felt fear as an informed emotion 。 。 。 something he could grasp in a way he could not as yet grasp this world。 Uncle Morgan here？ Jesus！
'Morgan is just Morgan。 No one to fool around with； boy。 e on； let's get out of here。' His hand closed around Jack's upper arm again。 Jack winced but resisted。
Parker bees Parkus。 And Morgan 。 。 。 it's just too big a coincidence。
'Not yet；' he said。 Another question had occurred to him。 'Did she have a son？'
'The Queen？'
'Yes。'
'She had a son；' the Captain replied reluctantly。 'Yes。 Boy； we can't stay here。 We…'
'Tell me about him！'
'There is nothing to tell；' the Captain answered。 'The babe died an infant； not six weeks out of her womb。 There was talk that one of Morgan's men…Osmond； perhaps…smothered the lad。 But talk of that sort is always cheap。 I have no love for Morgan of Orris but everyone knows that one child in every dozen dies a…crib。 No one knows why； they die mysteriously； of no cause。 There's a saying…God pounds His nails。 Not even a royal child is excepted in the eyes of the Carpenter。 He 。 。 。 Boy？ are you all right？'
Jack felt the world go gray around him。 He reeled； and when the Captain caught him； his hard hands felt as soft as feather pillows。
He had almost died as an infant。
His mother had told him the story…how she had found him still and apparently lifeless in his crib； his lips blue； his cheeks the color of funeral candles after they have been capped and thus put out。 She had told him how she had run screaming into the living room with him in her arms。 His father and Sloat were sitting on the floor； stoned on wine and grass； watching a wrestling match on TV。 His father had snatched him from his mother's arms； pinching his nostrils savagely shut with his left hand （You had bruises there for almost a month； Jacky； his mother had told him with a jittery laugh） and then plunging his mouth over Jack's tiny mouth； while Morgan cried： I don't think that's going to help him； Phil。 I don't think that's going to help him！
（Uncle Morgan was funny； wasn't he； Mom？ Jack had said。 Yes； very funny； Jack…O； his mother had replied； and she had smiled an oddly humorless smile； and lit another Herbert Tarrytoon from the butt of the one smouldering in the ashtray。）
'Boy！' the Captain whispered； and shook him so hard that Jack's lolling head snapped on his neck。 'Boy！ Dammit！ If you faint on me 。 。 。 '
'I'm okay；' Jack said…his voice seemed to e from far away； it sounded like the voice of the Dodgers announcer when you were cruising by Chavez Ravine at night with the top down； echoing and distant； the play…by…play of baseball in a sweet dream。 'Okay； lay off me； what do you say？ Give me a break。'
The Captain stopped shaking him but looked at him warily。
'Okay；' Jack said again； and abruptly he slapped his own cheek as hard as he could…Ow！ But the world came swimming back into focus。
He had almost died in his crib。 In that apartment they'd had back then； the one he barely remembered； the one his mother always called the Technicolor Dream Palace because of the spectacular view of the Hollywood Hills from the living room。 He had almost died in his crib； and his father and Mor…gan Sloat had been drinking wine； and when you drank a lot of wine you had to pee a lot； and he remembered the Technicolor Dream Palace well enough to know that you got from the living room to the nearest bathroom by going through the room that had been his when he was a baby。
He saw it： Morgan Sloat getting up； grinning easily； saying something like Just a sec while I make some room； Phil； his father hardly looking around because Haystack Calhoun was getting ready to put the Spinner or the Sleeper on some hapless opponent； Morgan passing from the TV…brightness of the living room into the ashy dimness of the nursery； where little Jacky Sawyer lay sleeping in his Pooh pajamas with the feet； little Jacky Sawyer warm and secure in a dry diaper。 He saw Uncle Morgan glancing furtively back at the bright square of the door to the living room； his balding brow turning to ladder…rungs； his lips pursing like the chilly mouth of a lake bass； he saw Uncle Morgan take a throw…pillow from a nearby chair； saw him put it gently and yet firmly over the sleeping baby's entire head； holding it there with one hand while he held the other hand flat on the baby's back。 And when all movement had stopped； he saw Uncle Morgan put the pillow back on the chair where Lily sat to nurse； and go into the bathroom to urinate。
If his mother hadn't e in to check on him almost immediately 。 。 。
Chilly sweat broke out all over his body。
Had it been that way？ It could have been。 His heart told him it had been。 The coincidence was too utterly perfect； too seamlessly plete。
At the age of six weeks； the son of Laura DeLoessian； Queen of the Territories； had died in his crib。
At the age of six weeks； the son of Phil and Lily Sawyer had almost died in his crib 。 。 。 and Morgan Sloat had been there。
His mother always finished the story with a joke： how Phil Sawyer had almost racked up their Chrysler； roaring to the hospital after Jacky had already started breathing again。
Pretty funny； all right。 Yeah。
2
'Now e on；' the Captain said。
'All right；' Jack said。 He still felt weak； dazed。 'All right； let's g…'
'Shhhh！' The Captain looked around sharply at the sound of approaching voices。 The wall to their right was not wood but heavy canvas。 It stopped four inches short of the floor； and Jack saw booted feet passing by in the gap。 Five pair。 Soldiers' boots。
One voice cut through the babble： ' 。 。 。 didn't know he had a son。'
'Well；' a second answered； 'bastards sire bastards…a fact you should well know； Simon。'
There was a roar of brutal； empty laughter at this…the sort of laughter Jack heard from some of the bigger boys at school； the ones who busted joints behind the woodshop and called the younger boys mysterious but somehow terrifying names： queerboy and humpa…jumpa and morphadite。 Each of these somehow slimy terms was followed by a coarse ribband of laughter exactly like this。
'Cork it！ Cork it up！'…a third voice。 'If he hears you； you'll be walking Outpost Line before thirty suns have set！' Mutters。