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By Root 701 0

and we could rule it together." The words took on a seductive tone, forcing tendrils into Orphan's mind, conjuring new, disturbing images inside his head. Whether it was his imagination alone, or some influence of the Bookman, he didn't know, but suddenly he was no longer sitting at the table but flying, disembodied, through a space strewn with stars, and below him was a globe, a blue world streaked with the white of clouds and the green of living things. It was beautiful – but then he turned, and he saw the small black body he had last seen, blown apart, in Richmond Park. The probe sailed through space, as small as a pebble, only seen by the occasional glint of light from its side. He turned again, facing away from the Earth, and his breath caught in a mixture of wonder and fear. For amongst the stars rose a fleet, thousands upon thousands of silver discs burning in the rays of the distant suns, coming closer and closer.

"Invasion," the Bookman whispered in his ear, jolting him back into awareness. His – hand? – tightened on Orphan's shoulder. "When the probe is released, it will sing its song out to the stars. And amongst the stars, Les Lézards' ancient kin will listen. And they will come, Orphan. They will come. And they will take this world for themselves."

"But it was destroyed," Orphan said. "You destroyed it!"

"I was misled," the Bookman said. His touch on Orphan's shoulder slackened. His voice took on an aspect of haunting sadness. "The probe in the park was a decoy. The real one is at this very minute making its way by airship to Caliban's Island, where the launch facility is all but complete. It has to be destroyed, Orphan. Do you see?" It seemed the Bookman was almost pleading with him. "This is not about a single human life, however regrettable. The fate of the world itself lies, as they say, in the balance."

He released Orphan. On a sudden instinct Orphan stood up and turned, looking for the Bookman. He had already retreated back into the shadows. Yet Orphan caught a glimpse of him, as he moved away: he was not human and not lizard, but a giant, caterpillar-like creature, its scaly head adorned with eye-stalks that, even as they were disappearing in the darkness, for one small moment seemed to wink at him. "Destroy the probe," the voice of the Bookman said, growing faint, "and I will return Lucy to you." "Why me?" Orphan said. Pleaded.

"A pawn does not ask for its player's strategy," the Bookman said. "And I have been playing this particular game for more centuries than you can imagine. You must destroy the probe."

He felt himself sinking into the Bookman's web. A fly caught in a silk mesh from which there was no escape. Finally, he said, "How?"

"Will you do it?" the Bookman said. His voice echoed in Orphan's mind, over the black-and-white squares, the miniature board on which he played his game with Orphan.

And Orphan, a captured pawn, whispered at last – "Yes."

PART II

The Odyssey

NINETEEN

Across the Channel

I travelled among unknown men, In lands beyond the sea;

Nor, England! did I know till then What love I bore to thee.

– William Wordsworth, "Lucy"

It was some time later. The place was France.

Orphan arrived at Nantes train station in the early hours of the morning. He had crossed the Channel, travelled by train to Paris and from there took the night journey across France. He got to see little of the country. His only reading material along the way had been a newspaper: and the news was not reassuring. One item in particular concerned Orphan:

EXPLOSION ROCKS CHARING CROSS ROAD !

BY OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT

In the early hours of yesterday morning a subterranean explosion rocked the foundations of Charing Cross Road and its environs. The explosion sent shockwaves throughout the nearby neighbourhoods, causing damage to property and health. Two people were mildly hurt when their baruch-landau fell into an opening in the ground, and several people were rushed into hospital with minor injuries. The explosion caused damage to roads and houses,