Selitos stooped to pick up a jagged shard of mountain glass, pointed at
one end.
“Will you kill me with a stone?” Lanre gave a hollow laugh. “I wanted
you to understand, to know it was not madness that made me do these things.”
“You are not mad,” Selitos admitted. “I see no madness in you.” “I hoped, perhaps, that you would join me in what I aim to do.” Lanre
spoke with a desperate longing in his voice. “This world is like a friend with a mortal wound. A bitter draught given quickly only eases pain.”
“Destroy the world?” Selitos said softly to himself. “You are not mad,
Lanre. What grips you is something worse than madness. I cannot cure you.” He fingered the needle-sharp point of the stone he held.
“Will you kill me to cure me, old friend?” Lanre laughed again, terrible
and wild. Then he looked at Selitos with sudden, desperate hope in his hollow eyes. “Can you?” he asked. “Can you kill me, old friend?”
Selitos, his eyes unveiled, looked at his friend. He saw how Lanre, nearly
mad with grief, had sought the power to bring Lyra back to life again. Out of love for Lyra, Lanre had sought knowledge where knowledge is better left alone, and gained it at a terrible price.
But even in the fullness of his hard-won power, he could not call Lyra
back. Without her, Lanre’s life was nothing but a burden, and the power he had taken up lay like a hot knife in his mind. To escape despair and agony, Lanre had killed himself. Taking the final refuge of all men, attempting to escape beyond the doors of death.
But just as Lyra’s love had drawn him back from past the final door
before, so this time Lanre’s power forced him to return from sweet oblivion.
His new-won power burned him back into his body, forcing him to live.
Selitos looked at Lanre and understood all. Before the power of his sight,
these things hung like dark tapestries in the air about Lanre’s shaking form.
“I can kill you,” Selitos said, then looked away from Lanre’s expression
suddenly hopeful. “For an hour, or a day. But you would return, pulled like iron to a loden-stone. Your name burns with the power in you. I can no more extinguish it than I could throw a stone and strike down the moon.”
Lanre’s shoulders bowed. “I had hoped,” he said simply. “But I knew the
truth. I am no longer the Lanre you knew. Mine is a new and terrible name.
I am Haliax and no door can bar my passing. All is lost to me, no Lyra, no sweet escape of sleep, no blissful forgetfulness, even madness is beyond