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something? Such an undignified exit!'
He understood her words  which rang in his mind as well as in his ears 
wagged his tail a very little, and made for Nathan where he sat in his chair. And again
the young ex-Necroscope's deep yet vacant eyes seemed to focus, if only for a
moment, on the wolf, before they once more glazed over.
And here he is, Grandfather, Harry's changeling descendant whined again, low in
his throat. He has no shields as such, so you can be in without him even knowing. Huh!
But of course you can, for he 'knows' nothing! Alas, you won't find him at home.
'I have been there,' said Harry, 'and I know you're right. My son isn't home, his
house has no furniture, and the fire is out in the hearth. It is as if it were inhabited by
some blind ghost, which looks out now and then through the windows of his eyes,
seeing nothing. Surely I can do no harm there? The least I can do is bring a little
atmosphere into the place.'
When you leave me for him, will you ever return? Blaze had sensed that this
'visit' was a singular, probably unique event.
'I doubt it,' said Harry. 'This time I answered a call. But there are many calls, and
I have been too long... away?'
Too long away? said his changeling grandson, who in his way was wiser than
most men. I think I understand  and anyway, it isn't my place to ask from where.
Grinner, who has seen strange far places, might know, and I must speak to him of it.
But when or wherever you go, know that we shall wish you a long... continuance?
'You know that I appreciate it,' said Harry. 'But even your brother Grinner hasn't
been where I shall go. How long is time, eh? Where is any- or everywhere, and how far
is away?'
Farewell, then, said Blaze.
And Harry was gone from one to the other in a moment
 Gone from that sharp wolf mind with its astonishing repertory of scents and
sensations, back to the grey-misted place, the 'empty house,' called Nathan.
In there, in that deserted echo chamber of a place, with no one else to hear
except the minds of his psychic explorer colleagues from Earth, Trask spoke once more
to Harry:
'What will you try to do, and how will you go about it?'
'It's just an idea, that's all,' said Harry. 'But you know how a skin graft works?'
'Of course,' said Trask. 'A patch of skin is taken from an undamaged, healthy part
of the body and planted on a burned or flensed area to facilitate new growth.'
'Right,' said Harry. 'But perhaps it's a poor analogy after all. For where a body
has suffered one hundred per cent burns '
'There's no hope,' said Trask. 'But in this case there must be some hope at least.
I'm sure that on the two occasions we've witnessed, Nathan recognised Blaze, if only
momentarily.'
'But still I can only do so much,' said Harry. 'I have only a short time left to me.
Other places are luring me.'
'Then get on with it,' said Trask. 'Do whatever you can for him, and it won't only
be Sunside that's in your debt.'
And Harry got on with it.
Not skin but memories. First of Blaze, reinforcing Nathan's picture of the wolf who
was his nephew, then memories of people Nathan had known  people they'd both
known  transmitted from Harry's memory banks into those blank spaces that were all
that was left of his son's.
It was done at incredible speed; Harry played the part of a neurosurgeon working
with a laser tool, but rather than slicing or splicing nerves he welded patches (pictures?)
of memory back in place on the bare walls of Nathan's mind. Pictures of Misha, taken
straight from what he'd seen of her through Blaze's eyes; pictures of Trask, Chung,
Lardis and Goodly, a group once well-known to Nathan; and again pictures of Blaze
himself, faithful, lifelong friend. And finally, saved until last, Harry conjured a fantastic
numbers vortex  a whirling wall of mutating symbols and ciphers, the metaphysical
equations of Möbius mathematics  to spiral like background static in the otherwise
aching void of Nathan's mind.
And then his time was up...
_
_
Something had happened to Nathan, and Misha didn't know what to make of it. She
didn't know what to make of Blaze, either. Wolf he might be, but she knew of his
relationship with Nathan  the fact that he was actually a relative  and also that he was
far more than just a wolf of the wild. Right now he danced, skipped and yipped. His tail
was a frenzy of side-to-side movement; his ears were up, intent, turning this way and
that but always ending up pointing at Nathan seated in his chair. Now he got up on his
hind legs, forepaws on Nathan's knees, black-shining muzzle inches from Nathan's
nose, and stared into Nathan's eyes.
It was Nathan's eyes now, yes, but a moment ago it had been his movements,
actions. Actions of a sort, anyway. Galvanic and by no means definitely the product of
intelligence or awareness, still he had moved; lifted an arm to point at something,
opened his mouth as if to speak, but only gurgled. Not much of a miracle in itself, but in
a man who had done absolutely nothing for a six-month without prompting and
guidance, and made no attempt to utter a single word... it was astonishing!
So much so that for several seconds Misha hadn't been able to move. When it
had started she had been standing in the open doorway, catching the last warm rays of
the sun as it sank down oh-so-slowly beyond the forest's rim. Then, very clearly, she'd [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]