Clarion

CLARION 151

cone that was engraved on the silver disk. An appendage on the bottom resembled a giant, flattened starfish. The entire body was covered with light brown fur.

Then something in the room changed. Paul took an involuntary step backward. Pressure was building inside him. Daddy ...

The pressure heightened and became a strong sensation of awareness inside his head. He covered his ears with his hands, but the voice penetrated deep into him.

Daddy . . .

Through the darkness he felt a calming touch. He reached out to pull it close.

The strength of the child.

Time passed. Shadows flitted through him, and he was aware of exterior sounds and movement, but he couldn't bring the presence in. He didn't want to bring it in.

Reality lurched.

He became aware of light filtering through his closed eyelids, of cool air on his face and of something solid behind his back.

He drew in a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. At first nothing made sense: the circular room littered with rubble, thick vines creeping across the floor and up the broken walls, the oddly shaped pedestals. Then his eyes found Selmer and Karyn where they stood against the wall, blinking around as if roused from a deep sleep. Seeing them brought back a sense of reality.

With a feeling of dread, Paul forced himself to look toward the middle of the room. The air above the chauka was still.

"She's gone," Doriand said quietly. Paul tried to speak, and instead coughed to clear the drying raspness of his throat. "She?" He was having trouble concentrating on Dorland's words. 152