A Dream And A Word-GameBut in fact Jake's dreams were anything but pleasant ...

It wasn't so much what had happened, though that was bad enough, but that he had been made to watch it happening. More than anything else, that was what had preyed on his mind... until he'd made it up to put things right. Perhaps he'd hoped that by killing the cause he might kill the memories, too.

But such a lot of memories, burning,like acid in his head, until he'd thought they would burn his brain out.Memories, yes.That fat, pallid, slimy-looking bastard  -  the second one of those pigs that Jake had got back at  -  the way he had taken Natasha in the classical or orthodox position, but scarcely an act of love. Rape, yes, and his long, slender grey dick in her rectum according to his taste.Memories, those God-awful memories ...They'd piled pillows under her, raising her hips, and two of the others had held her legs under her knees, to allow this fat slug standing at the side of the bed to get into her. That had made it easy for him, because unconscious as she was  -  or between bouts of consciousness and unconsciousness  -  she'd been likely to flop and eject him. But holding her like that, Natasha had been a lot more accessible; accessible to viewing, too, for Jake had been tied to a chair where he could see all of the action. Of course, he could have closed his eyes, and from time to time he did just that, but he could still hear it even if he couldn't see it.

That grunting pig! His dick like a long finger poking into her, in and out with the heaving and clenching of his fat backside. And this sweaty, grunting, slug-like slob  -  this giggling queer  -  oh, it was obvious why he liked it like this. With any normal woman in any natural act of intercourse he'd be lucky if that pencil penis of his touched the sides. But this way ... at least he would get some satisfaction, however minimal At least he would know he'd had it into something.And Jake had to watch, he had to, because long before that too-long night was over he'd known that if it was the very last thing he did he would avenge her.But the worst thing was when it was over, and the fat bastard zipped his fly and waddled over to Jake, saying, 'A shame she wasn't awake, eh, English? It would have been so sweet to know she'd felt that last big bang, and to feel her guts spasm as I greased her dirt chute! Ah well, there's time yet. Oh, ha, ha, ha?He had a strong German accent. And when he laughed he put his face close enough to Jake's to cause him to recoil from the stench of cigar smoke and senf, hot German mustard ...But Jake didn't even know the pig's name  -  didn't know any of their names  -  except Castellano's and Jean Daniel's.Well, Jean Daniel was dead now, of an unequal argument between his soft guts and the alloy core of a plastique-propelled steering column.And the fat faggot had been number two ...Jake knew the route the fat man took from Castellano's place on the northern outskirts of Marseille to a gay bar on the Rue de Carpiagne which he visited regularly on Friday nights. He knew, too, that the fat swine was a little shy to admit openly of his predilections (that it didn't sit too well with him that he was both a hoodlum and a pervert), which was why he invariably approached Le Jockey Club down a narrow side street.

It was raining on the night in question, and Jake had parked his car so as to block off one side of the rain-slick cobbled alley on the fat man's approach route. The other side was liberally sprinkled with inch-and-a-half spikes which Jake had laid down with malice aforethought and in great deliberation.

Jake was waiting in a recessed doorway when the fat man's fat tyres blew, and he was quickly into the alley as the expensive Fiat slewed to a halt and its cursing driver slammed open his door, got out, and creased his belly as he bent to hear the front nearside's last gasp. A moment more and Jake was standing over him.The fat man was suddenly aware of him; he had time to say, 'Uh? Bitte? Was istP' before Jake sapped him behind the ear ...In a deserted copse on a wooded hillside over the motorway near St Antoine, Jake wafted a small bottle of smelling salts under his victim's nose until he twitched, moaned, and came out of it with a series of useless, spastic jerks. Useless because he was tied up  -  literally tied up  -  and spastic because he was tied by his ankles and wrists, so that all he could do was shake and shiver like a great, globular white spider in its web.

Jake had woken him up because in his position, upside down, the fat Kraut might easily die without ever regaining consciousness of his own accord. And that was the last thing Jake wanted ... that he should die easily.

The man's legs were spread wide; at a height of about seven feet, his ankles were roped to a pair of springy saplings which were just strong enough to hold him in position. His wrists were likewise tied to the bases of the twin trees, which formed his body into a fat, totally naked 'X'. He was gagged with his own underpants, tied off at the back of his neck, and the rest of his clothing lay in a neat pile close by.At first the fat man struggled a little, but since that was pointless he quickly gave up and hung still, watching Jake pour a hip flask of fiery Asbach Uralt brandy over his heaped clothing.'A waste of good German liquor, eh?' Jake said. 'But that's not the only German thing I'll be wasting tonight.' Then, stepping closer: 'You don't remember me, do you?'The fat white spider had begun to shake its web again, however hopelessly, but now it paused to say, 'Umph? Uh-umph?''But I'll bet you remember the girl. That night at Castellano's place? The Russian girl, Natasha?' Hearing that name, and finally recognizing his tormentor, the fat man commenced yanking on his ropes with a vengeance, his eyes blinking rapidly in a face as round as the moon, all bloated with pooling blood.'Oh, sure, you remember her,' Jake said, as he got to work.Though it had stopped raining, he was still wearing a lightweight raincoat. From one side pocket he took out a small paper parcel, and from the other several indeterminate items. The fat man, being inverted, couldn't make out what they were; but perhaps he recognized a certain marzipan smell when Jake unwrapped the stained paper parcel and weighed a blob of grey, dough-like stuff in his hand. At any rate he began shaking the trees furiously, and did a lot more serious umph-umphing.But Jake wasn't listening; he wasn't the least bit interested in his victim's complaints. Stretching a pair of thin surgical gloves onto his hands, he stepped closer and began molding plastic explosive into the fat man's anal cavity. And:'I might have expected it,' he said, finishing the job just as quickly as possible, 'that a fat, ugly thing like you would have a hole like a horse's collar. You've done your fair share of time in the barrel, right? But this time -1 mean this last time - it's a little different, eh?'He showed the fat man a small brass cylinder the size of a pencil-slim torch battery, with copper wires protruding from one end, said, 'Detonator,' and rammed it home. And connecting the wires to a miniature timer, he said, 'Which gives you maybe, oh, fifty seconds? As of right ... now!' And he pressed a tiny button.

Then, in no special hurry, he stepped to the neatly piled clothing, stooped and applied the flame of his cigarette lighter. The pile caught with a small whoosh! and blue flames flickered on the hillside.

And starting to count, 'Five, six, seven ...' Jake set off through the damp undergrowth, down the uneven, wooded slope to where his car was parked on a rutted farm track.

'Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two ...' He looked back up the slope. Thirty or thirty-five yards away, the fat white spider-thing vibrated in its web, looking luminous in the darkness of the wooded hillside. And Jake - who had fairly danced down the slope, his face fixed in a mad grin as he counted off the seconds through clenched teeth - suddenly Jake felt nauseous.But at a count of thirty-two he realized he was probably too close and couldn't afford to be sick. It had been his intention to stand there and shout back up the slope, remind that poor fat sod of what he'd said that night: something about Natasha feeling the last big bang? And her guts going into spasm? But there wasn't enough time left  -  and maybe not enough hatred left  -  for any of that now. Or could it be simply that he didn't want his car covered with ... with whatever.Feeling his gorge rising, but still counting, he started up the car and nosed off down the track. 'Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty ...' And when he was on the level, heading for the motorway, he applied the brakes and looked back  -  felt obliged to look back  -  like the night when he had looked without wanting to at something else. Looked back because this was what he thought was needed to burn that memory out of him.'Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-...' But that was as far as he got. Obviously he'd been counting just a little too slowly.Jake saw the ball of fire leap up and out from the trees on the hillside, pictured in his mind's eye a hideous rending, and then heard the bang. The only mercy was that the fat queer himself couldn't possibly have heard it, and there had been no time at all for a spasm ...Then for a time Jake just sat there in his car, until the sweat began to turn cold on him. But damn it to hell, the horror and the hatred were already creeping back, sated for a while but by no means done with. And Jake knew that they always would be there, until he tracked down the rest of those bastards and finished what they had started.He gave himself a shake, put the car back in gear and made for the motorway. But -  - something was obscuring his interior mirror, something that had got itself stuck to the rear window.Something round, that once was fat but now was flat, dripping scarlet from its ripped rim. And its eyes hanging out, and its mouth still stuffed with its own underpants!A face. But just a face!Jesus God!Jesus -  - God!'Jake came "awake with a small cry and a massive start, the sweat still dripping, and that mask of a face still printed on the darkness, but fading as he realized it was only that awful nightmare again, and that while the rest of it was all too horrifyingly real, the last part had never happened except in the dream. It always happened in the dream. Every time.But then, while he sat there trembling, his heart hammering in his chest, utterly alone in the darkness of his cubicle, someone very close quite clearly said:Ahhhhh! What stuff you are made of, Jake! And what a host you would make! But together we'll make a very fine pair, you and I...Jake recognized the voice at once  -  only this time he was awake, had been shocked awake  -  and the knowledge saw him fumbling for his bedside light switch with rubbery fingers, as the damp short hairs at the back of his neck stiffened into spikes.

But as the light came on, so that evil, chuckling deadspeak voice was already receding, was being driven away. Because acting instinctively  -  almost without knowing he had done it, and certainly without knowing how  -  Jake had erected mental shields against intruders, blocking them from his mind. For as well as Korath Mindsthrall, he had sensed someone else there, and possibly many someones, listening to his thoughts.

Or was it all a bad dream? For now that they were gone, he couldn't even be sure that his intruders had ever been there in the first place. And Jake flopped, panting, back onto his pillow, wondering if perhaps it had only been a part of his dream after all. One of those dreams that crashes the barrier of consciousness, however momentarily, to cross over into the waking world.He wondered about it, but was by no means certain ...... While just a few feet away, trying desperately hard to keep still as a mouse, Liz Merrick crouched shivering and shuddering on her bed, in the farthest corner of her cubicle, with a sheet drawn up under her chin. She hung on tightly to that sheet, and even more so to her thoughts (so as to keep them to herself, but in any case as far away from Jake as possible), and tried to forget what she had seen. But much like Jake himself that night at Castellano's place, gripped by some kind of morbid fascination, voyeurism of a sort, she'd found herself unable to look away' ... until now.Damn Ben Trask that he had ordered this surveillance! But it wasn't only Trask, for Liz, too, had 'had' to know.Well, and now she knew. She had seen  -  she'd even 'experienced' Jake's passion, his hatred, and the resultant nightmare  -  and knew how far he would go in his vendetta, and just exactly what he was capable of (literally anything), in his craving for justice. Or for a kind of justice, at least.But such justice!On the other hand, perhaps that was why Harry had chosen him: because an eye for an eye had always been the Necroscope's motto. The eye, yes: that most vital and vulnerable part of the body. An eye for an eye. Why, the thought itself was horrific! But now, as Liz was witness - and as it had been brought forcefully home to her - she realized that other parts of the body could be just as vulnerable, and their use or misuse even more horrific ...

Jake hadn't thought he would sleep again, but after tossing and turning for an hour  -  and listening, though for what he wasn't quite sure  -  he did in fact sleep.And as he relaxed his shields  -  a natural, necessary relaxation born of mental fatigue, from listening so intently for an unidentified something  -  so Korath Mindsthrall was alert and waiting for him. Jake felt the ex-vampire's gradual insinuation like a slimy, creeping mist, or a damp shroud settling over his mind. But at the same time he also sensed something of urgency, a desire to speak, to communicate with him. And if for no other reason than his own curiosity, he allowed it.'I know you're there,' Jake said, as the other's hesitancy, his too-cautious approach began to irritate him. 'So why do you hold back? If you've got something to say, get it said.'For answer there came a sensed 'sigh' of relief, and: But I thought that you would shut me out, send me away. I thought you would reject me, Korath said.'That didn't stop you the last time/ Jake said. 'When you spoke to me after my nightmare? You seemed to have enjoyed spying on me, as if you approved of what you had seen, of what I'd done. Or perhaps you got carried away and broke your silence in error, when I wasn't supposed to know you were there?'/ was in fact... well., speaking to myself, said the other, defensively. We might even say that you eavesdropped on me!'Speaking to yourself?' Jake answered. 'Deadspeak? In which case you're as new to it as I am. For a thought is just as good as the spoken word, Korath, to such as you and I.'And to all of the teeming dead, said the other. Which makes you the odd man out.

'But as for eavesdropping ...' Jake continued, 'it sometimes has its uses. What was it you said? That together we would make a very fine pair? What exactly did you mean by that? That we're alike in certain ways? No, I don't think so. Or did you perhaps mean that you'd like to team up with me?'

But that is precisely what I meant! Korath answered, just a littletoo eagerly. For after all, if you're intent on tracking down and destroying the treacherous Malinari, who could possibly be of greater assistance than one who was as close to him as Korath MindsthrallP'So close that he killed you?' Jake's sarcasm dripped.Exactly! And I know what you are thinking: that the Necroscope Harry Keogh found it peculiar that The Mind should murder his first lieutenant out of hand, as if it were nothing to him. But it was in fact... something.'He had good reason? Is that what you're saying?'Well, he thought he had! said Korath. He was concerned that one day I would usurp him, that I might have the means to usurp him!'Yet when Harry questioned you, you said it was just Malinari's nature. You were there to be used, and so he used you.'And so it was his evil nature, which caused him to so use and abuse his right-hand man, aye, Korath answered. But in addition, there was this other thing. Something of his own making, which given time he feared would turn on him. And it might yet.'So why do you mention it to me  -  this thing, whatever it is  -  when you withheld it from Harry?'Because it was my secret, said Korath. And even a dead man should have something he can call his own  -  something private?  -  which might even be of value to the living, and with which he might seek to bargain? Ah, but Harry Keogh is one thing, while you are something else entirely, Jake. And it was never my intention to keep anything secret from you. Not if you require it, and if it should prove ... useful to you?'Something you have,' Jake mused, 'Which might benefit me, but not Harry ...' And in a while, when Korath remained silent: 'So what's the difference? Why would you help me and not him?'

The difference? But isn't it obvious? The Necroscope Harry Keogh can do nothing for me. And even if he could he wouldn't  -  you have seen that for yourself! He is obstinate: despite that I never harmed him and he never knew me, still he hates me! But the greatest difference is this: that he is dead!

While you -

'While I'm alive,' said Jake.

And you walk among the living. My only possible instrument of revenge against him who put me here, and the others who have gone out into your world with him, aye.'And that's all you'd expect out of it? All you'd want for yourself?'All? But it is everything! said the other. Through you, I would live again  -  er, metaphorically, of course. Through you, I would strike back from beyond the grave  -  or in my case from this dank and dreary pipe, in the bowels of a strange place, in a foreign land far from Starside. What more could I, poor dead thing that I am, ask of you? And. what more could you give?'What more, indeed/ said Jake, who hadn't forgotten Harry Keogh's warning, that even dead vampires are dangerous. And:Well, and perhaps there is ... something, said Korath.'And now we get to it,' said Jake.Hear me out! said the other. Is it too much to ask that in return for my gift to you, you shall give me your companionship  -  albeit rarely, however infrequently  -  when little else intrudes upon your time?'A word-game?' said Jake. 'Is that what this is? The devious nature of vampires? For here I find myself bargaining  -  all caught up in it, beginning to go with it  -  when as yet I don't even know what's on offer!'Then let me tell you! Korath was eager, barely able to contain himself. But in the next moment he slowed down, paused and said, And yet... how best to explain? Now listen:Do you remember I told you, that in our Icelands banishment when food was short and Malinari thirsted, he supped on me? But it was no mere sip! He drank deeply, so deep indeed that I was weakened nigh unto death. Aye, that was how much my master took from me. But in taking, he also gave!

Now, Malinari is special even among the Wamphyri. His bite is virulent; well, so are they all, but his even more so. Under normal conditions a man is recruited, becomes infected, in the space of a single Starside night  -  or two or three days of your time  -  following which he is his master's thrall, in thrall to whichever Lord or Lady seduced his blood. But when Malinari bit deep it was a matter of hours! He could turn a man in hours!

It was in his essence, his strong Wamphyri essence. And it was the same with the making.'The making?' This was a new one on Jake.The making of creatures, Korath explained. Monsters! Why, things waxed in The Mind's vats of metamorphosis in days rather than weeks and months! I have seen flyers Jlop from their stone wombs in the space of a single day and a night -  a Starside day and night,you understand  -  and even an ugly warrior wax mewling in its vat, its armoured scales hardening to chitin in little more than four sunups. So efficacious is Malinari's essence of metamorphism! And all of his men and creatures alike stamped with something of The Mind himself, imbued of his arts, made in their master's likeness. Do you see?'Imbued of his arts?' Jake repeated the other's words, and tried to fathom his meaning. 'Are you saying you got Malinari's skills?'Something of them, aye, said Korath. And, after a moment's pause:

And you will also recall the reason why my master found it so easy to talk to me: because as you have inherited the Necroscope Harry Keogh's mind~shields, so I had inherited my bestial father's. Malinari found little to fault in my thinking because I was able to keep him out. Which suited both our purposes: The Mind's because while by nature he's suspicious, still he needed a strong first lieutenant; mine because even the most loyal and obedient of thralls may on occasion harbour this or that small grievance against his master ...

'Or, on occasion, a not-so-small grievance?' said Jake.He sensed Korath's shrug. In my case, not so much a grievance as an ambition. That was it: I harboured an ambition, and looked for an opportunity. For that time in the Icelands, Malinari had gone too far. Oh, he had glutted on me ... but what he had given back  -  albeit involuntarily, for in his hunger he was made careless  -  would soon be much stronger than what he took! From which time forward I knew that I was different. I felt the germ of a leech growing in me, but daren't disclose it. I could not admit that soon I would be ... Wamphyyyrrriii!The pain  -  the terrible longing  -  of Korath's cry shocked Jake to his very soul. Like a shovel in cold ashes, or chalk on a new blackboard, it grated on his nerve-endings, set his scalp tingling. And it brought him a new awareness, the certain knowledge that what he was dealing with here was far from a simple, uncomplicated creature. Dead it was, yes, but it hadn't by any means accepted that fact; it resisted death with every fibre of its long-since sloughed-away body, and would cling to life  -  to any life, to his life  -  with that same tenacity! And:'I think ... I think it's time you were out of here!' Jake said, his voice shuddering as the echoes of Korath's cry of anguish did a drum-roll in his near-metaphysical mind. 'You or me, but one of us has to go.'Aye, go if you will, said the other. But best that you go bravely to your death, Jake, not whimpering as you whimper now. Go on, face Malinari the Mind, for you may be sure it is him in the mountains! Go against him with nothing but your puny human muscles, nothing but your puling, childlike mind  -  which even I can enter, as stealthy as a thief in the night. Oh? Oh really? And how do you think you'll fare against such as Malinari, eh? And. this woman who you keep in your mind, this Liz of whom you sometimes dream  -  what, a mentalist, you say? But how unfortunate! For how will she fare against such as him? As for Vavara ... ah, but she has her ways with pretty women, aye. Vavaaara! Oh, ha ha ha haaaaaaa!Korath's deadspeak laugh reverberated into a throbbing silence, but Jake knew that he was there, waiting. And Korath knew that Jake was hooked. To a point, at least. And he was right.'How can you be sure that it's Malinari in the mountains?' Jake said, in a little while. 'What can you know of that?'Ah, no! Too late! the other cried. / was the fair one and told you a secret. Now you would have more. But what is my get out of all this?'But you still haven't told me what you want!' Jake answered. 'Not everything that you want. And until you do, I'm not going to be signing any blank cheques, Korath.'And because deadspeak conveys more or other than is actually said, because it translates much as telepathy translates, Korath understood him well enough.

You are afraid that I would take advantage? But how may I take advantage? I'm only a dead thing drowned in a pipe! Korath Mindsthrall is no more except he acts through you. Ah, but Jake ... the acts we can accomplish, and the things I have to offer!'Such as?'Everything I know about Malinari, Vavara, Szwart.'You've already told me those things, both me and the Necroscope, Harry Keogh.'But can you remember them? When you're awake? I think not. For I have crept into your waking mind, too, Jake, and found it blank of all such knowledge, of everything I told you. Now tell me: who do you suppose it was reminded you of how Malinari came by his name? Did you really think you were so clever as to work it out all by yourself that the name Aristotle Milan was a disguise, a pseudonym?'But it ... it was obvious,' said Jake, caught momentarily off guard.

As it must also be obvious that I was there with you! Korath pounced. Else how would I know it ever happened? And when we flew together, you and I, in that aerial machine, that helicopter with its twirling wings: did you once suspect that I was there with you? No, never, not for a moment. But I was ...

Jake was shaken, but he was also Jake. 'So you're a sneaky bastard!' he said. 'What does that prove - except I can't trust you?'It proves that I can help you  -  as I helped you with Malinari's name. And then, grudgingly: Also, it proves that you are no slouch, no easy adversary, when it comes to word-games. More of the Necroscope's inheritance, I should think.And Jake wondered, could Korath help him? What harm could it do to call on the vampire for advice in a tight spot? Surely it wouldn't be that much different from calling on Harry, whose help was uncertain anyway? And these thoughts, too  -  unguarded as they were  -  were deadspeak.Exactly! said Korath. And at all times I would be on hand to ... to advise you, aye.'Not at all times!' said Jake, hearing warning bells. 'For when we started this conversation you were happy with "rarely," or "infrequently," when little else was "intruding on my time". So how come you now arrive at being on hand "at all times?'"A figure of speech! Korath protested. / meant whenever you called for me, of course.'And how would I do that? I mean, call for you?'Why, by thinking of me, of my situation down there in that cruel conduit, and by calling for me by name, Korath.But the dead vampire was getting ahead of himself; believing that he was winning Jake over, his deep Voice' had become semi-hypnotic, more phlegmy, glutinous and sly than ever. Jake gave himself a shake and 'woke up' to that fact.'What, like rubbing a lamp to call out the genie?' he said. 'And what happenes when I've had my three wishes, eh?'He sensed the sad shake of an incorporeal head. Jake, Jake! Were you always this ungrateful, this misgiving?'No,' Jake answered. 'Not misgiving, not yet. Just cautious. But let's get on. What else is on offer? For after all, you did say "things," in the plural.'So, said the other, esoteric knowledge is not enough. It is too ethereal  -  too immundane  - for a clod-hopper such as you. You would have something more physical.'No small feat/ said Jake, feeling stung and retaliating, 'for someone as far removed from physical things as you are.'Hurtful! said the other. Hah! And you accuse me of taking advantage! But argument gets us nowhere, while what I'm proposing would be of mutual benefit. Very well, you ask what else is on offer, what other 'thing' I have in mind. And that is exactly where it is: in my mind. Now say, do you remember the Necroscope asking you about your numerical skills?

'In connection with the Mobius Continuum? Yes,' said Jake. then. And how are your numbers, Jake?'I'm not innumerate, if that's what you mean.'

Odd, said the other, for I was. In my world, Jake, mathematics went no further than the count of a man's thralls or the beasts in his pens. Numbers? I had no use for them, nor have I even now, though I may have shortly. But in

Starside, addition was a recruitingforay into Sunside. And division was what happened to the spoils.'What are you getting at?'

We come to it, said Korath. Do you remember those numbers that the Necroscope showed you before he took his leave of us? And do you know what they were?

'They were a formula,' Jake answered. 'They were the numbers that govern all space and time, Harry's gateway to the Mobius Continuum. But do I remember them?'He thought back on it:That incredible wall of numbers  -  like a computer screen run riot, evolving in the eye of his mind  -  its symbols, calculi, and incredible equations marching and mutating until they achieved some sort of numerical critical mass ... and formed a door. A Mobius door.Remember it? He would never forget it! It was like watching creation itself. But duplicate it?No, you can't, said Korath. But I can! I can make it, but I can't use it. Not without you. And you can't make it without me. And there you have my offer ...'Tempting, if it were true,' said Jake.It is.'But how? You said yourself that numbers were practically unknown in your world.'Just so. But didn't I also say that Malinari's essence is strong in my blood?And now Jake understood. 'His photographic memory? That's what you got from him! And it's why he killed you, because one day you might know as much as him.'Now you have it all, Korath said, and I await your answer. What's it to be? Can we work together, for Malinari's downfall?'But there's something else.' Still Jake was cagey.And Korath sighed his frustration. What now?'The secret that Harry Keogh was searching for, or in your own words "the crux of the matter", which is probably more important than all the rest put together. The Wamphyri  -  Malinari and the others  -  have been here for some time now, but it seems they've achieved very little. So like the Necroscope before me I'm asking you: what are they up to, Korath? What's their plan? You were one of theirs and so you must know.'Oh, I do, I do. But as you have repeated the Necroscope's words, now I shall repeat mine. That is for me to know, and for you and yours to discover  -  through me. It is my only remaining bargaining point, the last trick up a poor dead thing's sleeve. And before I give you that, -we must be far, far better acquainted, you and L That said, I can tell you this: there isn't too much time left, and what they have started will run its course. Unless it is stopped. Before you can stop it, however, you must know what it is.

Jake pondered that a while, then said, Til have to think it over. All of it.'But try not to take too long over it, said the other. Your world hangs by a thread, and the thread is unwinding.Til keep that in mind,' said Jake. 'But for now leave me be. There's something I must do before I awake, or all this has been for nothing.'5o be it, said the other without further comment. And Jake sensed his departure like a waft of fresh air, the way the shadows crept back from his mind.Then, experimenting  -  making sure that Korath was gone -  he attempted to close his mind to deadspeak and turned to telepathy instead:'Liz, if you are there, and I think you probably are, try to remember this name: Korath. If it's possible, you might even write it down. But in any case remember it, and tomorrow remind me of it. It could be very important.'That done, Jake relaxed and let himself drift free on the tides of his own subconscious mind.

And in a little while he felt himself buoyed up, taken by far less ominous dreams, the disjointed, meaningless flotsam of his waking hours ...