Trapped

Reluctantly I unfolded the paper and looked at the message. Sebastian had scrawled it quickly in low-grade watery ink; still, the words were legible enough.

Dear Dr. Dhubhai:If you don't know already, Rosalind Tzekich and I have eloped. We'll come back when we're ready, but we just want to be alone for a while. You'll see us again when we're married.Tell our families not to worry. I know they'll disapprove to begin with, but when they see how much we love each other, they're sure to understand.Sebastian

After I finished reading, there was a long silence… broken finally by Pelinor.

"Perhaps there's something I'm missing," he said, "but how can Sebastian think he's eloped with Rosalind when she's lying dead in her room?"

Impervia made an impatient gesture. "The boy must have written the note ahead of time. Most likely, he and Rosalind arranged to leave their dorms separately and meet off campus. Sebastian cleaned his room, wrote the note, then headed out. For all we know, he's still waiting at the agreed-upon rendezvous: shivering in the dark and crying bitter tears because he believes Rosalind has stood him up."

"Or," said Myoko, "he's blissfully run off with something that looks like Rosalind but isn't."

I spoke for us all when I said, "Ulp."

Though Chancellor Opal was a master of hiding her emotions, the look on her face was stricken. Her thoughts had to be similar to mine: thinking of the thing in the tobacco field. What War-Lord Vanessa had called a Lucifer.

Pelinor, however, hadn't heard the chancellor's tale. He gave his mustache a suck and said, "Come now, Myoko, that's a tad overimaginative. Impervia's version makes sense. Sebastian wrote the note… went off to meet Rosalind… didn't know she would never arrive. Plain and simple."

Myoko raised an eyebrow. "So it's just coincidence Rosalind died the night she planned to elope?"

Impervia gave a dismissive sniff. "Coincidences happen."

"So do doppelgängers," answered Myoko. She turned to the Caryatid and asked, "Aren't there spells that can make a person look like someone else?"

The Caryatid nodded reluctantly. "Some illusion spells can do the trick… but they're always flawed in some way. They mimic the face but not the rest of the body; or they duplicate the appearance but not the voice; or they do the whole job but last for only a few minutes; or the illusion simply can't be seen by some people-like Kaylan's Chameleon, which fools men but not women…"

"But it is possible," Myoko said. "That's the point. And sorcery is just one possibility." She turned eagerly toward me. "Didn't the OldTechs make androids that were perfect doubles of people?"

I shook my head. "The OldTechs never got that sophisticated. Most of their robots were just boxes on wheels, or big metal arms. The few that did appear human were no more than clockwork novelties: programmed with a set of simple gestures and a recorded speech track, but not enough to fool anyone more than a couple seconds."

"All right," Myoko said, "so the OldTechs couldn't make android duplicates-not during OldTech times, four hundred years ago. But since then, the people who abandoned Earth must have improved their technology. They might be able to make lifelike androids now."

I couldn't help glancing at Opal; her gaze was turned to the floor. Meanwhile, the Caryatid said, "Many things are possible, Myoko dear… but what would be the point? Why would one of our space cousins create a duplicate of Rosalind just to deceive a lovestruck teenager?"

Myoko didn't answer immediately-she was looking in my direction, but her eyes were distant. Finally, she gave herself a little shake and said, "Sebastian is more than a lovestruck teenager. He's special."

"How?" asked Impervia.

Myoko lowered her head. "Sebastian Shore is the most powerful psychic I've ever met."

Psionic folks always terrified me… even petite little Myoko. If her gift was strong enough to lift Impervia, it was also strong enough to reach into one's chest and squeeze one's heart to a standstill. Pinch one's carotid artery. Snap one's spinal nerves.