greatness on Daken, telling everyone her son would be their prophesized hero. And now fate had decreed he'd face his big moment alone.
Or almost alone. Jane was with him.
She sensed Daken gathering his courage and strength about him, and she knew he was about to push open the door. Jane had a sudden image of Daken, standing disappointed, maybe humiliated, if after thirty-one years of build-up, he went through the door and nothing happened.
She reached out, covering his hand with her own. "Daken, whatever happens, good or bad, right or wrong, I think you're already a pretty great king, not to mention a wonderful guy."
Daken's eyes were dark in the gloomy hallway, but even so, Jane saw the way they lightened, just a little, the gold flecks becoming more pronounced as he absorbed her comment.
He leaned down as she raised up. Their lips touched. It wasn't an intense kiss. It lasted less than a second. But in that brief touch, they communicated a wealth of love and support and thanks. Never had she felt a kiss so deeply or so simply.
He drew back, but their gazes continued to caress each other. Then a noise from down the hallway broke their communion. Jane turned to look. Although she saw nothing, she heard the outside door close with a ponderous thunk.
Someone was coming.
She glanced at Daken, and he nodded. He either went through the door now or did it with an audience. With kingly presence, he thrust open the dark metal door and stepped in. Jane followed, shadowing his right shoulder, ready to help in any way she could. It wasn't until she got a good look around that the chill in her spine settled with a sick thud in her stomach.
"Oh my God," she breathed.
Daken too looked around, his brow furrowed, his breathing shallow. "I don't understand," he whispered to her. "I don't understand any of it."
"I know," returned Jane. "Oh God, do I know."
Surrounding her in bits and pieces, with dust cloaking the parts until they were almost unrecognizable, was a Regency CX-537 mainframe computer and associated peripherals. It was the exact same unit Boston University library housed, and the same computer she'd spent the last five years of her life maintaining.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she groaned.
Daken glanced back at her, his mind still reeling from the totally incomprehensible chaos littering the room. He spared less than a second for her. But then, like a dog returning to his home, his sight was pulled back to her pale face as she stared with open-mouthed horror at the debris surrounding them.
"What do you see, Jane? Do you understand this?" He didn't want to believe it. He was the prophesied one, not this little moonling.
Her nod was slow, but it was like a hammer clubbing his heart. He grabbed her, twisting her toward him, shaking her until she finally looked at him.
"What do you mean, Jane? Do you know what this is?"
It took three tries before she could speak, but finally her voice came out, first as a squeak, but growing stronger with each word. "It's a... a Regency CX-537. A computer."
"I do not understand this word."
"A... a machine."
"And you can work this machine?"
She nodded again, her gaze darting around the room, spastically jerking from one strange object to another. "I... I don't know. I guess I can."
"Then you must help me."
"Help you?" Her thoughts were scattered. One thing was certain, they must put this machine back together.
"We must do this, Jane. It is my destiny. We must."
Her gaze finally settled, focusing on his face. "I can do it." She took a deep breath. "I can bring it up, Daken. That's not the problem. What I want to know is what it's doing here."
"This is the House of Prophesy."
She shook her head. "I don't care if this is the House of Oz. I want to know what a CX-537 is doing here. In this place. In this world." Her voice rose in near hysteria. Daken could feel the panic welling up within her. It pushed through his defenses, battering at his own focus like a rising tide of
Or almost alone. Jane was with him.
She sensed Daken gathering his courage and strength about him, and she knew he was about to push open the door. Jane had a sudden image of Daken, standing disappointed, maybe humiliated, if after thirty-one years of build-up, he went through the door and nothing happened.
She reached out, covering his hand with her own. "Daken, whatever happens, good or bad, right or wrong, I think you're already a pretty great king, not to mention a wonderful guy."
Daken's eyes were dark in the gloomy hallway, but even so, Jane saw the way they lightened, just a little, the gold flecks becoming more pronounced as he absorbed her comment.
He leaned down as she raised up. Their lips touched. It wasn't an intense kiss. It lasted less than a second. But in that brief touch, they communicated a wealth of love and support and thanks. Never had she felt a kiss so deeply or so simply.
He drew back, but their gazes continued to caress each other. Then a noise from down the hallway broke their communion. Jane turned to look. Although she saw nothing, she heard the outside door close with a ponderous thunk.
Someone was coming.
She glanced at Daken, and he nodded. He either went through the door now or did it with an audience. With kingly presence, he thrust open the dark metal door and stepped in. Jane followed, shadowing his right shoulder, ready to help in any way she could. It wasn't until she got a good look around that the chill in her spine settled with a sick thud in her stomach.
"Oh my God," she breathed.
Daken too looked around, his brow furrowed, his breathing shallow. "I don't understand," he whispered to her. "I don't understand any of it."
"I know," returned Jane. "Oh God, do I know."
Surrounding her in bits and pieces, with dust cloaking the parts until they were almost unrecognizable, was a Regency CX-537 mainframe computer and associated peripherals. It was the exact same unit Boston University library housed, and the same computer she'd spent the last five years of her life maintaining.
"I think I'm going to be sick," she groaned.
Daken glanced back at her, his mind still reeling from the totally incomprehensible chaos littering the room. He spared less than a second for her. But then, like a dog returning to his home, his sight was pulled back to her pale face as she stared with open-mouthed horror at the debris surrounding them.
"What do you see, Jane? Do you understand this?" He didn't want to believe it. He was the prophesied one, not this little moonling.
Her nod was slow, but it was like a hammer clubbing his heart. He grabbed her, twisting her toward him, shaking her until she finally looked at him.
"What do you mean, Jane? Do you know what this is?"
It took three tries before she could speak, but finally her voice came out, first as a squeak, but growing stronger with each word. "It's a... a Regency CX-537. A computer."
"I do not understand this word."
"A... a machine."
"And you can work this machine?"
She nodded again, her gaze darting around the room, spastically jerking from one strange object to another. "I... I don't know. I guess I can."
"Then you must help me."
"Help you?" Her thoughts were scattered. One thing was certain, they must put this machine back together.
"We must do this, Jane. It is my destiny. We must."
Her gaze finally settled, focusing on his face. "I can do it." She took a deep breath. "I can bring it up, Daken. That's not the problem. What I want to know is what it's doing here."
"This is the House of Prophesy."
She shook her head. "I don't care if this is the House of Oz. I want to know what a CX-537 is doing here. In this place. In this world." Her voice rose in near hysteria. Daken could feel the panic welling up within her. It pushed through his defenses, battering at his own focus like a rising tide of
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