Dark Prince Read Online Free PDF Page B

still mourned the warrior who had died defending her helpless body against the demons sent to destroy her.
    She pictured his face—the long silver hair tied at the nape of the neck, the arrogant walk, the easy smile.
    “I miss you,” she whispered.
    Just before midnight, guided by her spirit sight, she crept down to the western gate, sliding back the bolt. Aristotle stepped inside. Locking the gate, she took him back to her room, where the
magus
poured himself some water and sat on the narrow bed. “Do you mind if I light a lantern?” he asked.
    “The blind have no need of lanterns. But I will fetch you one.”
    “Do not concern yourself, lady.” Reaching out, he took a silver wine cup, holding it high. The metal twisted, folding in on itself to form a spout from which a flame flickered and grew, bathing the room in light. “You are not looking well, Derae,” he said. “Your duties are leaving you overtired.”
    “Come to the point of your visit,” she told him coldly.
    “No,” he answered. “First we must talk of the many futures. Has it occurred to you that there is a contradiction in our travels through time?”
    “If you mean that the futures we see can change, of course it has.”
    He smiled and shook his head. “But do they change? That is the question.”
    “Of course they do. I remember old Tamis telling me she saw her own deaths in many futures. In one, she said, she fell from a horse, even though riding was abhorrent to her.”
    “Exactly my point,” said Aristotle. “Now, let me explain: Tamis saw herself falling from a horse. But that is not how she died. So then—who fell from the horse?”
    Derae sat down on a cushioned chair, her spirit eyes locked to the
magus
’s face. “Tamis,” she answered. “But the futures were changed by events in the past.”
    “But that is where the contradiction lies,” he told her. “We are not talking of prophetic visions here, Derae. You and I—and Tamis once—can
travel
to the many futures, observingthem. What we are seeing
is
happening … somewhere. All the futures are
real.”
    “How can they all be real?” she mocked. “Tamis died but once—as will I.”
    “I do not have all the answers, my dear, but I know this: there are many worlds, thousands, all akin to ours. Perhaps every time a man makes a decision, he creates a new world. I don’t know. What I do know is that it is folly to examine all these alternative worlds and base our actions on events in them. I, too, have seen Alexander drag the world down into blood and chaos. I have seen him kill Philip and seize the throne. I have seen him dead as a child, from plague, from a dog bite, from an assassin’s blade. But do you not see that none of it matters? None of the futures are ours. They are merely echoes, reflections, indications of what might be.”
    Derae was silent, considering his words. “It is an interesting concept. I will think on it. Now, to the point of your visit.”
    Aristotle lay back on the bed, his eyes watching the flickering shadows on the low ceiling. “The point—as always—concerns the boy in this world. You and I took Parmenion into Hades, where the child’s soul merged with the spirit of chaos. We took it to be a defeat. But it may not prove to be so.”
    “A curious kind of victory,” sneered Derae. “The boy carries a great evil. It is growing within him worse than any cancer, and he does not have the strength to fight it.”
    “He had the strength to stop it destroying Parmenion in the void,” Aristotle pointed out. “But let us not argue; let us instead think of ways of helping the child.”
    Derae shook her head. “I long ago learned the folly of seeking to change the future. Had I known then what I know now, there would have been no demon prince.”
    “I think that there would, lady,” said Aristotle softly, “but it does not matter. The child is no different from the many who are brought to you each day—only he is not crippled in the