The Final Key: Part Two of Triad Read Free

stop." He saw the message to Dehya: a major space station had lost many of its primary systems due to a crisis in the Kyle web beyond the ability of their telops to fix. Millions of people lived on that station, and they were losing environmental systems, defenses, even port controls. They couldn't evacuate without launch bays. Dehya had been called in to fix the web before the station died.
    Eldrin swore under his breath. He knew she had a duty to help, but when would she ever get to rest? This happened all too often, that she would disappear while he slept, dragged back to her work by her endless responsibilities as pharaoh. He knew she didn't want to disturb his sleep, but it unsettled him even more to awake alone.
    "Was she all right when she left?" he asked. "She seemed fine," Laplace said.
    Eldrin hoped so. He headed down the hall to Taquinil's room.
    MaKe it stop/ Taquinil cried in his mind, please, Hoshpa.
    I will, Taqui. I'll make It better. Guilt saturated Eldrin. His nightmare had done this. If only he could take his son's torments into himself and free the boy. Dehya had helped; tonight was the first time in days Taquinil had re-. laxed. But she was gone now, and so was the effect of her medicine. Every time Eldrin fell asleep, he made it worse. He could handle the nightmares; he had mental defenses to mute their effect Taquinil didn't. When he shielded the boy with his mind, his son was all right, but in sleep, Eldrin lost his ability to provide that protection. He didn't know why he was suffering these nightmares, but he feared someone he loved was in trouble, someone in his family, for they were the only ones whose minds linked strongly enough to his to affect him this way. When he slept, his barriers eased and the connection could intensify. As far as he knew, everyone in his family was fine, yet the dreams continued. Taquinil continued to tremble, his tears soaking into Eldrin's hair, and Eldrin couldn't bear his misery.
    He knew what he had to do.
    Eldrin returned to the living room and brought up Alaj's medical report. He memorized the details he needed, then carried Taquinil through the master bedroom and into a refresher chamber beyond. Holding his son in one arm, Eldrin took Dehya's personal air syringe out of a cabinet. Normally, someone who wasn't a doctor couldn't have a medical-grade pharmaceutical supply in her possession. But as pharaoh, Dehya had a full dispensary, all in a slender syringe that wasn't even the length of her forearm.
    Eldrin could have asked Alaj to help Taquinil, but it had never worked in the past, and he had lost faith that the doctors could do anything but disappoint his son. It took a Rhon psion to protect a Rhon psion, and the only Rhon in existence were Eldrin's family. He also knew Alaj would never approve this solution. Too bad. Alaj wasn't the one whose son was in agony.
    Eldrin entered the prescription Alaj had given Dehya and was relieved to find the syringe had the components needed to prepare the medicine. He wasn't certain about the dose he should use on himself; he was larger than his wife, but she had been in difficulty and he was fine. He settled on the same dose Alaj had given her and injected himself in the neck. He winced as the syringe hissed, not from any pain but because it reminded him of the doctors and their advice against using medicine without supervision. This would be all right. He had watched Alaj treat Dehya, read the doctor's report, and followed it with care.
    He put away the syringe and shifted Taquinil to both arms. The small boy shivered in his embrace. Eldrin paced through the royal apartments, walking his son, murmuring comfort.
    So far, no effect.
    He kept walking, singing now, soft and low, a verse he had written when Taquinil was two years old:
    Marvelous bright boy, Wonder of all years, Precarious joy, Miracle from tears.
    He sang it over and over. The night took on a trance-like quality and his voice rolled like waves on a shore, the