Darkness enveloped me. I had no sense of form or bearing. Fear drove whatever flitting spark of consciousness I possessed. My awareness sputtered, like a lantern in a wailing storm.

First came bright lights and bright pain.

Then, voices murmured, too many to recognize or isolate. They blended into the continuous drone of an engine.

One brief moment of perception opened. Father held me, distress lining his proud face. His words echoed as if I was at the end of a long, shadowy tunnel, and he melted into obscurity.

I snapped into a dream, unlike any I'd ever had.

I was naked, standing at the edge of a strange river. The water flowed black, the opposite shore concealed in swirling mist. My skin exuded a pale, otherworldly glow, my breath and heart beat echoed through the space around me.

A woman's voice spoke. "Silas."

Blurred movement drew my attention, and Duke appeared further up the shore. His fur was torn, matted with blood. One side of his head was stripped of flesh, stark bone gleaming in the wan light.

I tried to shout, but my throat was sealed.

Duke loped away from me, then vanished.

"Silas, can you hear me?" The woman's voice was insistent and seemed to ring through the roiling sky, the barren ground. Thousands of birds circled in the air above me. Cawing, calling, diving toward me. Their cries tugged at a hidden place deep within me.

Hot, thick drops of blood pelted the soil like falling rain, dripping from my outstretched fingers, and pooled into a red mass.

The fierce, distant beat of drums, a hollow clatter, and a piercing shriek pulsed through the air in unison--music, a cadence both dissonant and haunting. I recognized Mother's voice, and it pulled me. Swept into the irresistible current of her chanting, I woke with a gasp.

Sharp pain seared through my head.

I lay in an unknown bed, in a room I'd never seen, covered with tubes and bandages. Mother held my right hand in her own, the sound of her chant now clear and constant. She rubbed my fingertips in time, and I noticed tiny smears of blood on her skin and mine.

"Mother."

She looked up with a start. "Thank the Guardians. Oh, my son. I thought you were going to die." Then she threw her head back, whispering a prayer to a secret deity.

My questions and thoughts whirled into a hysterical muddle. "What is this place?" I tried to sit up, but everything spun around me, and I collapsed back onto my pillows.

Mother stroked my hair. "Hush. Not now. I'll ring for the nurses, and I'll explain after they've cared for you."

I was in an infirmary. Thankfully, the room was dim, lit only a by single lamp on the nearby nightstand. I endured the frantic examinations of three nurses. After they'd prodded and poked me for at least half an hour, they left me alone with Mother.

"Tell me everything," I said.

She sat at the edge of my bed. "You were nearly killed by that aberrant beast in Thohadoun, and you've been in a coma for more than three weeks. Your father should never have allowed you out of his sight."

My usual annoyance flared. "I'm not a child anymore, Mother. I was perfectly fine on my own. We were sabotaged by Mr. Whitlock and several others. Your pet bird spoke the code words they used, and I want to know why."

She lifted her chin to a haughty level. "I'm aware of this now. If I'd known that deceitful valet was skulking about with terrorists, I would have had him arrested well before it happened. He cared for my bird, while I was away on my last project. I never suspected Juno overheard and intercepted a treacherous plot. She was trying to warn us. She's a useful companion in many ways. I'm sure you understand, with how close you were to your dog."

"How close we were?" My dread returned. "What happened to Duke?"

"He saved your life. But, in doing so, he sacrificed his own."

"He's dead..." I shuddered.

Mother nodded. "I'm sorry."

I rarely wept, but sobs tormented me until I choked for breath. Only one thought ruled afterward, driving my emotions to a point, to action.

Vengeance.

"Who was responsible for the assault on our hunting party?" I asked, my voice settling into controlled stillness.

Mother's grin was enigmatic. "Corrupt individuals, from various companies and unions. They thought they could force things with violence. Have no fear, all have been apprehended. Everyone who conspired against us will be punished severely. I promise you this."

"I want to call Father. Where's my wristcom?"

"All of your devices were crushed during the attack. However, one object did survive, and it surely protected you, as I knew it would." She reached into the finely beaded and embellished purse she wore across her shoulder and returned the Pruessian bone knife to me.

"What is this object?"

"It's an athame. An heirloom of the Jaster family," she said, studying me. "For years, I've watched you, and wondered if you share the family gift. I confess, I tested you, just before you woke." She stroked my fingertips again, and tiny drops of blood stained our touch.

I tried to pull away, but my hand trembled feebly in her grasp. "What did you do to me?"

"I introduced you to an ally, for lack of a better word. A powerful friend, which enters through the blood and quickens the eyes of spirit. You heard me in vision and responded to my call. I have no doubts now that you've inherited the Sight. You're a Jaster, through and through."

Outrage sharpened my voice. "You used me, against my will."

"I pulled you back from death," she said. "You should be more respectful to me for saving your life."

"Duke saved my life. You, on the other hand, have a habit of interfering where you're not wanted."

"So, this is how it's to be." She slowly turned away. "I can only blame myself for the enmity between us. I hoped we might understand each other, now that you're old enough to learn the truth."

"What truth?"

She sighed and bowed her head. "There are reasons why I've distanced myself from you. You resemble someone I knew when I was young--someone I loved with all my heart, then lost forever. Being near you always brought memories which I couldn't bear. It was wrong of me to shun you for it. I've been a terrible mother, due to my own shame."

I frowned. "Who was it?"

"When the time is right, I'll tell you. I'll go now, as I don't want to bring you more sorrow and anger while you're recovering. But I have one more thing to give you."

She waved a slender palm, and her attendant robot strode into the room. It placed a mysterious box on the bed before me.

"I don't want your sympathy gifts."

"Hopefully, you'll change your mind when you see who's inside." She paused at the door. "Death is but a passage. To those who know how to listen, the voices that remain will speak and sing. They can guide us in unimaginable ways. When you're ready to learn, I'll be here for you."

Once she was gone, I reached for the box.

It was a plain wooden crate, the type often used to present wine or delicacies, sealed with a sliding lid, and fastened with a small brass latch. I opened hesitantly and was shocked to see the contents.

Inside was a bare skull, pristine and fresh, carefully nestled upon a bed of fragrant flowers. The size of it, the shape of the snout, and the strong, pointed teeth were unmistakable.

"Duke." I breathed his name, as if he could hear me. My tears returned, and I pressed my forehead to his. Somehow, Mother had procured him for me.

The bone grew warm beneath my grief-stricken touch. I regretted my earlier rudeness to Mother. For all her insane talk of powers and spirit sight, I wanted to believe her. I cried over what was left of my dearest friend, wishing he was still with me.

A few minutes later, one of the nurses entered. Her jaw dropped when she saw me hugging the dog's skull, tangled in my web of intravenous trappings.

"It's time for your medication," she said, with a nervous glance. "Also, your father called, and said he'll visit you in the morning."

I set the skull beside me, not caring what she thought of it. "Thank you."

She administered an injection, then looked at me. "Your mother left quickly, and in obvious distress. Is everything to your comfort, Mr. Blane?"

I nodded. "I'm fine. My mother can be overbearing at times."

"I see," the nurse said. "I found her quite admirable. Everyone else left, but she returned every day and stayed many nights beside your bed. A mother's love knows no bounds."

This new devotion from Mother perturbed me. Who was this friend from her past, who caused her such agony to remember that she'd avoided her own child?

Once I was alone, I placed Duke's skull back into its case, and set it on the adjacent nightstand. I wanted to keep him close. I slept most of that afternoon, and through the night.

Father and Castor arrived early, as promised.

Castor burst into the room, arms outstretched. "Silas!"

Father grinned with equal joy and gave me a box of my favorite imported chocolate. "It's good to see you feeling better," he said. "We've all been worried."

"Grandfather most of all," Castor piped. "He hasn't been well, ever since your accident."

"What's the matter with him?"

"His heart has weakened considerably," Father said. "The doctors are doing what they can, but the chaotic events surrounding us have taken their toll, surely. He's at home, but on indefinite bed rest."

"I regret to hear it. Please give him my sincerest well-wishes."

Father patted my arm. "I will indeed."

After a brief silence, I asked, "What exactly happened? Everything occurred so quickly, and I'm curious as to how the perpetrators were captured."

Father sighed and sat next to me. "A deviant independent group has been trying to force Blane Industries to side with them for some time. As you already know, the latest merger between Sperling, Kaur, and Ayala Incorporated brought abrupt change for the entire field. The miners want more pay, and the companies want them to work longer missions to earn it. The attack on us was a rather futile rebellion. We suspect that Lovejoy-Prynne was involved, but they covered their actions well. Seventeen men were arrested, including our own Mr. Whitlock."

"I saw him there," I said. "The damn traitor."

I thought he'd scold me for swearing, but the angle of Father's grin held only amusement. "I'd known Mr. Whitlock was dissatisfied with the more radical viewpoint presented by Blane Industries," he said. "But I didn't expect he'd go to such extremes. What I was truly surprised to find was the antagonism the unions bear toward us. You know, as well as I, that we've always promoted and met the needs of our employees. The miners are displeased with far more than their working conditions. In some ways, I understand the aversion the other companies harbor. However, I alone know the nature of the miners' work. I joined a crew for several months, drilling across the Belt, so I'd know their reality. No one else in society has reached out to the common man as I have. These traitors selected me as their target, and staged a coup of sorts."

Castor interrupted. "They all rode into the camp on horseback, after you and Gerald went hunting. Duke ran away, and they couldn't catch him."

"Precisely," Father said. "It was your guides, Malachai, and the man named Ulwazi, who are the true heroes of the day. They treated your wounds with indigenous methods, and carried you twelve miles to an emergency station, sending an SOS via the radio there. The authorities responded, though it took them hours to bring the standoff under control. Needless to say, it's been a long three weeks, and I've hated myself for ever letting you venture out alone."

I recalled Mother's accusation, that Father was responsible for the attack, due to inferior supervision. How wrong they both were. I was able to take care of myself. Regardless, I should have been faster with my gun. I'd been mesmerized by the beauty of my prey, distracted by Gash's exotic, hungry presence. I swore to myself to never again become so enraptured by a necessary kill.

"How long am I to be in this hospice?" I asked.

"For at least another week, doctor's orders." Father donned his bowler and checked his wristcom. "I regret that we must be returning to orbit. Castor and I have been summoned as witnesses to a preliminary hearing."

"I understand. Thank you for the honor of your visit."

A week of solitude caused my mind to wander. Things which were once so important to me, so permanent, now swayed on questionable foundations. With this jittery new perspective, I passed through the gate of my fourteenth year.