That night.

Lodz couldn't judge the passage of time. He kept trying to think about Scudder and his insistence on seeing him again, not because he really cared about the expected charity, but in an attempt to distract himself from the pain.

It wasn't working.

The few drugs available in the poorly equipped field hospital didn't help, either. He thought he was about to go crazy.

And then, suddenly, he feared he had gone crazy.

The cacophony of sound he'd been hearing had been replaced by dead silence. And while he'd thought he was in pitch blackness before, the darkness now seemed even deeper.

He screamed, and was momentarily relieved that he could at least hear his own scream.

"There's no need for that, Lodz." The sexually ambiguous voice had a harsh, unpleasant timbre, but didn't sound unfriendly. Its language was Polish.

"Wh-what's going on?" It seemed there wouldn't be any other response to his scream; that was frightening in itself.

"I've simply come to visit you, Lodz," the voice said reasonably. He decided it was male. "I have a proposition to make, and I don't want us to be disturbed, so I've shut out all that annoying noise. No one can see me, and no one but you can hear me--or, for now, hear you."

"I don't believe this. I'm having a nightmare--"

"Nightmare?" His mysterious visitor sounded hurt. "How uncharitable! This isn't a bad experience, Lodz. To prove it, I'll do you a favor. I'll end the pain you're having. You'll still be blind, but the pain will be gone--permanently, no strings attached."

Lodz felt a soft breath across his face...and the pain was indeed gone.

He gasped. He still only half-believed he was awake, but he fervently hoped he was. He said humbly, "Th-thank you. Who are you, and what is it you want from me?"

"One question at a time, Lodz. I'm going to touch you, and that will give you a glimpse, mentally, of who and what I am."

An icy hand brushed his forehead...and then he was falling free of his moorings in time and space, tumbling, breathless, into a bottomless abyss.

As he fell, he "saw" the reality of a dark Being who could take any form or none. A Being who straddled the ages, moved at will through a universe of innumerable dimensions. A Being who wielded immense power, yet was bound, as all things are, by rules.

A Being who was, by human standards, utterly and irredeemably evil.

As suddenly as it had begun, the experience was over. He was back in his bed, his heart threatening to burst from his chest as he sucked in a desperate breath.

"Do you understand that much?" The voice was calm, benevolent.

"Y-yes, my Prince." Where did that come from? How did I learn what to call him? "I don't think I want to be any more involved--"

"All I ask is that you hear me out. I'm prepared to offer you something you've always wanted. But there will be a price for it, a high price. You'll have to decide what's most important to you. I won't press you; whatever your decision, I'll abide by it."

"Very well, my Prince. I'll listen." Lodz was terrified, but at the same time, he was consumed by curiosity. He'd heard enough that he now had to know what the demon--for demon he surely was--had in mind.

He was totally unprepared for what came next. "It has to do," the demon told him, "with your new acquaintance Henry Scudder."

"Scudder?"

"Henry Scudder is not an ordinary man. He's an Avatar of Light--human, mortal, but with special powers that make him my enemy. A formidable one, whom I cannot simply kill. Nor can my servants kill him, but that's not a problem at this time.

"Scudder possesses healing powers. Didn't you find it strange that he, apparently uninjured, was the only survivor in a trench where all his comrades had been killed?"

Lodz said slowly, "I-I never thought of that."

"He can heal his own minor injuries--does it instinctively, perhaps even involuntarily. Also, it's possible his comrades had seen the things he can do, and they persuaded him to lie low and stay out of the fight so he'd be available to heal their wounded. But the carnage was beyond anything he could remedy."

He said his gun jammed and then was unusable, but there was no suggestion it was empty. Yet he thought it possible all the other rifles had been fired until they were empty...

While Lodz was trying to absorb that, the demon continued. "Did he tell you about his act with an American carnival? Biting off small animals' heads? He added a touch no one else ever has. After he did it, he restored the animals to life!"

Stunned, Lodz found a question forming in his mind. He blurted it out. "Could he--could he have let those Canadians kill Bruno, and restored him to life?"

Does my asking that mean I believe all this?

How could I not believe it, after what this Being showed me?

"Possibly," the demon told him. "But there are reasons why it would have been difficult, with so much devastation all around. And he couldn't have done it without people finding out. He felt safe with the carnival act because it was widely assumed it involved a trick of some kind."

Lodz had another question. "C-could he have been killed by that grenade, if I hadn't saved him?"

"No, but only because it wasn't a direct enough hit to kill you. A direct hit probably would have killed him. I would have been most unhappy about that."

"Unhappy? I thought he was your enemy--"

"He is. But he has a role to play in a struggle decades in the future. If he dies, that role will pass to his son--assuming he has one, and he seemingly believes he does. I know who Scudder is and where he is. My servants have thus far failed to locate the son."

By now Lodz's head was spinning. Why am I listening to this? Scudder is my friend!

Except...if he has healing powers, why did he leave me blind...?

The demon said smoothly, "You're probably asking yourself, 'If he has healing powers, why did he leave me blind?' The answer is that he doesn't intend to. He couldn't expose himself by healing you here, couldn't even tell you his plan without risk of being overheard. But he urged you to meet with him later so he can restore your sight."

Lodz was more confused than ever. "You're Scudder's enemy, and you want to recruit me, so it would be in your interest to turn me against him. Excuse me, my Prince, but if that's true, why did you tell me he means to restore my sight?"

"Ah, now we're getting to the heart of the matter. If I deceived you about Scudder's intentions, you wouldn't be bound by any commitment you might make to me. It's essential that you make a free, informed choice.

"If you wish, Lodz, you can let Scudder perform his miracle. He won't feel indebted to you beyond that. You'll go your separate ways, never see each other again. If you decide that's what you want, I'll erase your memory of our meeting tonight. Its only consequence will be that you'll be mysteriously pain-free for the short time you'll remain blind.

"But as I said at the outset, I'm prepared to make you an offer." The voice was seductive now, almost hypnotic in its effect. "I can give you something you've craved all your life...something you've sought throughout Europe...something Henry Scudder can't give you. Psychic ability, Lodz, awesome psychic ability! The only catch is that you'll have to remain blind--and work against Scudder."

Lodz felt faint. He heard himself saying, "I don't know..."

"Of course you don't! Not without experiencing what I can give you! But now, Lodz, let me give you a taste of what it will be like!"

Something was being pressed into Lodz's hands. It was a glass, he realized, the water glass he'd used earlier in the day...

Suddenly, in his mind's eye, he saw the nurse who'd filled it for him. Natasha. Red-haired, green-eyed. Her life was an open book to him: the drunken, abusive father, the tubercular mother, the stillborn siblings, the one living brother who'd raped her a dozen times. He felt the depth of her love for Anatoly, a Russian soldier, a blond, bookish young man who, unknown to her, was already dead and rotting.

He cried out in horror...and ecstasy. The glass fell from his hands and shattered.

The demon's even voice said, "Here's something from which you can read much more." He guided Lodz's hand to a wooden table.

And Lodz was sent whipping through the histories of a hundred people--patients who'd used the table, previous owners, the carpenter who'd made it, the lumberjack who'd felled the tree, lovers who'd pledged their troth beneath that tree, a murderer who'd been hanged from it.

By the time he'd drunk his fill of psychic impressions, he knew he could become addicted.

Perhaps he already was.

"What...what exactly do you want of me, my Prince? If I agree, that is?"

"I will give you these powers, which depend on touch. When you meet with Scudder, tell him immediately that you're developing powers of this type. Pretend they're minor--that you think they're some kind of divine compensation for the loss of your sight, but in spite of that, they frighten you. He must believe you're desperately unhappy.

"After hearing that, Scudder won't go through with his plan to restore your sight, won't even mention it. He can't heal you without touching you, and he'll fear that if he does, you--who are, after all, still a near-stranger--may learn far too much about him.

"In fact, one reason why I don't want him to touch you is that he would also learn too much about you. He possesses this power to a limited degree--he can only pick up knowledge that's relevant to his mission.

"He won't dare heal you, but he'll feel extremely guilty about your blindness. And he'll know you won't be able to return to your old carnival. You'll still be capable of performing with Bruno, but they won't trust you to do it; and you'll pretend to be too afraid of your psychic powers to exploit them, at least right away. Scudder will see only one solution: to use his influence to get you a place with his carnival, in the U.S. Which is exactly what I want."

"I'm beginning to understand," Lodz said softly. "You expect him to go back there after the war, and you want me to spy on him?"

"Yes. After a longer friendship, he may let things slip. And while it won't be possible for you to touch him, you may find opportunities to touch his belongings. I need information about that son of his!

"An agent in the U.S. may prove valuable in other ways. An Avatar of our own, an Avatar of Darkness, is living there now...

"A word of warning. The carnival has another psychic, a woman, who's hostile to us and whose powers are not dependent on touch. But she's suffered a mental breakdown and can't communicate with anyone, so she's unlikely to pose a threat."

Lodz was puzzled. "A psychic who can't communicate? What use is she? Why are they keeping her there?"

"Apparently, friends who believe in Scudder's powers are caring for her in the belief that when he returns, he'll heal her."

"Oh. But then he probably will heal her--"

"No, I doubt he'll be able to. Whether or not she fully understands it, she's retreated from the world because she wants to hide from things she can't face, can't cope with."

Lodz realized that at some point, he'd begun discussing the situation with this monstrous Prince as if they were already allies.

Scudder is my friend. How can I betray him?

How can I live without those powers the Prince let me taste?

Scudder can restore my sight...

Which kind of sight means more to me?

"Well, Lodz? Have you made your decision? Shall I erase your memory of our meeting?"

I need more time!

"You must choose now, Lodz. What is it to be?"

Lodz took a deep, shuddering breath.

"At your service, always, my Prince."
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So much had gone wrong over the years.

The first phase of the plan had worked perfectly. The guilt-ridden Scudder had convinced Carnivale to hire Lodz, and he himself had returned after the war.

But then the psychic Apollonia had come out of her catatonic state just long enough to warn him, he'd fled, and they'd lost him altogether.

None of that was my fault, Lodz reflected. We always knew Apollonia was the wild card. I could only have neutralized her by killing her, and the Prince didn't want that, because of her daughter...

And how could I have chased after Scudder, when I had a bear no one else could handle, and on top of that, I'm blind?

The Prince had never said it was Lodz's fault, but in various ways, he'd let him know he was dissatisfied.

The Prince had bought the carnival and come to the U.S. himself. But he'd concentrated on his obsessive hunt for Scudder, turning day-to-day operations over to Lodz.

It was Lodz who had to endure the constant griping, the grumbling that as carnival manager, bear handler, and psychic he was trying to wear too many hats. The argument went that no man could do so much and do it well--least of all a blind man.

Unfortunately, the claim had some merit.

Lodz understood now that the Prince--"Management"--could have restored his sight at any time. But he wouldn't do it, for the same reason he undoubtedly wouldn't restore Bruno to life: miracles would attract unwanted attention.

Lodz had dealt with his misery by drinking too much. Now, he heard, newer members of the troupe refused to believe he'd been injured in the war while protecting someone else. The hot rumor was that he'd gone blind from drinking cheap absinthe.

His demon-given psychic gift had never failed him. But of what use was it, really, beyond letting him amaze carnival audiences with his insight into their thoroughly dull lives?

The decision to come to St. Louis had been his--a mistake traceable to his unfamiliarity with the country. He hadn't realized what a big, noisy city it was, how likely it was to transport Bruno back to the war.

I wasn't willing to admit it, but he was never the same after that war experience. He was more skittish, more easily upset. But if I'd just avoided St. Louis...

He was sure those vicious children had teased the bear, maybe even abused him. He didn't give a damn about the children. He was glad they were dead!

But I was the one who brought Bruno to St. Louis. That was my fault, all my fault.

The bear had never been the same after the war, never recovered.

What if I'd let him go, back then in 1917?

What if I'd just let him go...?
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(The End)