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of his inner thighs； where they were almost always hidden by his clothes。 Morgan…this one as well as that one…had not loved the Queen any better for her intercession 。 。 。 but his hatred for Parkus； who had sniffed out that earlier plot； had grown exponentially。
Now Parkus/Parker lay face…down on the beach； his skull covered with festering sores。 Blood dribbled listlessly from his ears。
Morgan wanted to believe that Parker was still alive； still suffering； but the last discernible rise and fall of his back had been just after he and Gardener arrived down here at these rocks； some five minutes ago。
When Gardener called； Morgan didn't turn because he was rapt in his study of his old enemy； now fallen。 Whoever had claimed revenge wasn't sweet had been so wrong。
'Morgan！' Gardener hissed again。
Morgan turned this time； frowning。 'Well？ What？'
'Look！ The roof of the hotel！'
Morgan saw that all of the weathercocks and roof ornaments…beaten brass shapes which spun at exactly the same speed whether the wind was perfectly calm or howling up a hurricane…had stopped moving。 At the same instant the earth rippled briefly under their feet and then was still again。 It was as if a subterranean beast of enormous size had shrugged in its hibernal sleep。 Morgan would almost have believed he had imagined it if it had not been for the widening of Gardener's bloodshot eyes。 I'll bet you wish you never left Indiana； Gard； Morgan thought。 No earthquakes in Indiana； right？
Silent light flashed in all of the Agincourt's windows again。
'What does it mean； Morgan？' Gardener asked hoarsely。 His insane fury over the loss of his son had for the first time moderated into fear for himself； Morgan saw。 That was a bore； but he could be whipped back into his previous frenzy again； if necessary。 It was just that Morgan hated to have to waste energy on anything at this point that didn't bear directly on the problem of ridding the world…all the worlds…of Jack Sawyer； who had begun as a pest and who had developed into the most monstrous problem of Sloat's life。
Gardener's pack…set squawked。
'Red Squad Leader Four to the Sunlight Man！ e in； Sunlight Man！'
'Sunlight Man here； Red Squad Leader Four；' Gardener snapped。 'What's up？'
In quick succession Gardener took four gabbling； excited reports that were all exactly the same。 There was no intelligence the two of them hadn't seen and felt for themselves…flashes of light； weathercocks at a standstill； something that might have been a ground…tremblor or possibly an earthquake preshock…but Gardener labored with sharp…eyed enthusiasm over each report just the same； asking sharp questions； snapping 'Over！' at the end of each transmission； sometimes breaking in with 'Say again' or 'Roger。' Sloat thought he was acting like a bit player in a disaster movie。
But if it eased him； that was fine with Sloat。 It saved him from having to answer Gardener's question 。 。 。 and now that he thought about it； he supposed it was just possible that Gardener didn't want his question answered； and that was why he was going through this rigmarole with the radio。
The Guardians were dead； or out of mission。 That was why the weathercocks had stopped； and that's what the flashes of light meant。 Jack didn't have the Talisman 。 。 。 at least； not yet。 If he got that； things in Point Venuti would really shake； rattle； and roll。 And Sloat now thought that Jack would get it 。 。 。 that he had always been meant to get it。 This did not frighten him； however。
His hand reached up and touched the key around his neck。
Gardener had run out of overs and rogers and ten…fours。 He reshouldered the pack…set and looked at Morgan with wide； frightened eyes。 Before he could say a word； Morgan put gentle hands on Gardener's shoulders。 If he could feel love for anyone other than his poor dead son； he felt love…of a twisted variety； most certainly…for this man。 They went back a long way； both as Morgan of Orris and Osmond and as Morgan Sloat and Robert 'Sunlight' Gardener。
It had been with a rifle much like the one now slung over Gardener's shoulder that Gardener had shot Phil Sawyer in Utah。
'Listen； Gard；' he said calmly。 'We are going to win。'
'Are you sure of that？' Gardener whispered。 'I think he's killed the Guardians； Morgan。 I know that sounds crazy； but I realy think…' He stopped； mouth trembling infirmly； lips sheened with a thin membrane of spittle。
'We are going to win；' Morgan repeated in that same calm voice； and he meant it。 There was a sense of clear predestination in him。 He had waited many years for this； his resolve had been true； it remained true now。 Jack would e out with the Talisman in his arms。 It was a thing of immense power 。 。 。 but it was fragile。
He looked at the scoped Weatherbee； which could drop a charging rhino； and then he touched the key that brought the lightning。
'We're well equipped to deal with him when he es out；' Morgan said； and added； 'In either world。 Just as long as you keep your courage； Gard。 As long as you stick right by me。'
The trembling lips firmed a bit。 'Morgan； of course I'll…'
'Remember who killed your son；' Morgan said softly。
At the same instant that Jack Sawyer had jammed the burning coin into the forehead of a monstrosity in the Territories； Reuel Gardener； who had been afflicted with relatively harmless petit mal epileptic seizures ever since the age of six （the same age at which Osmond's son had begun to show signs of what was called Blasted Lands Sickness）； apparently suffered a grand mal seizure in the back of a Wolf…driven Cadillac on I…70； westbound to California from Illinois。
He had died； purple and strangling； in Sunlight Gardener's arms。
Gardener's eyes now began to bulge。
'Remember；' Morgan repeated softly。
'Bad；' Gardener whispered。 'All boys。 Axiomatic。 That boy in particular。'
'Right！' Morgan agreed。 'Hold that thought！ We can stop him； but I want to make damn sure that he can only e out of the hotel on dry land。'
He led Gardener down to the rock where he had been watching Parker。 Flies…bloated albino flies…had begun to light on the dead nigger； Morgan observed。 That was just as fine as paint with him。 If there had been a Variety magazine for flies； Morgan would gladly have bought space； advertising Parker's location。 e one； e all。 They would lay their eggs in the folds of his decaying flesh； and the man who had scarred his Twinner's thighs would give birth to maggots。 That was fine indeed。
He pointed out toward the dock。
'The raft's under there；' he said。 'It looks like a horse； Christ knows why。 It's in the shadows； I know。 But you were always a hell of a shot。 If you can pick it up； Gard； put a couple of bullets in it。 Sink the fucking thing。'
Gardener unshouldered the rifle and peered into the scope。 For a long time the muzzle of the big gun wandered minutely back and forth。
'I see it；' Gardener whispered in a gloating voice； and triggered the gun。 The echo pealed off across the water in a long curl that at last Dopplered away into nothing。 The barrel of the gun rose； then came back down。 Gardener fired again。 And again。
'I got it；' Gardener said； lowering the gun。 He'd got his courage back； his pecker was up again。 He was smiling the way he had been smiling when he had e back from that errand in Utah。 'It's just a dead skin on the water now。 You want a look in the scope？' He offered the rifle to Sloat。
'No；' Sloat said。 'If you say you got it； you got it。 Now he has to e out by land； and we know what direction he'll be ing in。 I think he'll have what's been in our way for so many years。'
Gardener looked at him； shiny…eyed。
'I suggest that we move up there。' He pointed to the old boardwalk。 It was just inside the fence where he had spent so many hours watching the hotel and thinking about what was in the ballroom。
'All r…'
That was when the earth began to groan and heave under their feet…that subterranean creature had awakened； it was shaking itself and roaring。
At the same instant； dazzling white light filled every window of the Agincourt…the light of a thousand suns。 The windows blew out all at once。 Glass flew in diamond showers。
'REMEMBER YOUR SON AND FOLLOW ME！' Sloat roared。 That sense of predestination was clear in him now； clear and undeniable。 He was meant to win； after all。
The two of them began to run up the heaving beach toward the boardwalk。
8
Jack moved slowly； filled with wonder； across the hardwood ballroom floor。 He was looking up； his eyes sparkling。 His face was bathed in a clear white radiance that was all colors…sunrise colors； sunset colors； rainbow colors。 The Talisman hung in the air high above him； slowly revolving。
It was a crystal globe perhaps three feet in circumference…the corona of its glow was so brilliant it was impossible to tell exactly how big it was。 Gracefully curving lines seemed to groove its surface； like lines of longitude and latitude 。 。 。 and why not？ Jack thought； still in a deep daze of awe and amazement。 It is the world…ALL worlds…in microcosm。 More； it is the axis of all possible worlds。
Singing； turning； bl