Who started the Palace? For a second Cir stared at Alec, amazed at the question. The Palace just *was* - it was impossible to imagine that it was built like ordinary buildings were supposed to built, that somebody decorated the rooms, hired pages and servants...

"I... I don't know," he finally said aloud, seeing that his master expected an answer.

"You don't?" Alec did not intrude upon his mind again, Cir was sure of it, and yet his penetrating gaze made it seem almost like he did. "Strange. You are connected to all the Palace systems, aren't you? If anybody at all knows, it must be you."

That sounded right, Cir decided. He should know — he was bored so often, and spent so much time exploring whatever he could, but...

"I never found anything but the records of day-to-day life," he said thoughtfully.

"Doesn't the Palace keep records of slaves - of the Keys?"

"Y-yes, it does. The arrival of new Keys is registered, and some Keys leave the Palace and that is also registered." Cir checked these records often, trying to learn more about the other Keys, making them into friends, and also checking on those who left.

"Then," Alec said, "those records must have a beginning. At some point the first Keys arrived, right?"

Cir frowned, trying to remember. "I don't know whether I've seen anything that could be such a beginning point. I can check the exact data, I think. It is interesting, but why do you want to know?" Even from this short acquaintance he could say Alec wasn't a man given to idle curiosity.

"Because it seems to me very much like a safe haven," Alec said, looking straight at him — it even seemed to Cir for a second that Alec was looking at the *real* him. "So I want to know whether it was purposefully made that way," the man went on."

"Safe haven?" Cir looked at him questioningly. "You mean like a resort? This *is* a resort..."

Alec sighed. "Cir," he said, suddenly sounding weary, "even if you were perfectly healthy, you wouldn't be able to have a normal life outside of here."

"Why?" Cir was becoming worried, not for himself — after all, he always knew he had no place outside of the Palace, — but for Alec, whose mood seemed to darken almost visibly. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"Yes," Alec looked at him with a small sad smile, "the same as with me."

"But there's nothing wrong with you, Master!" Cir was so surprised that he forgot the way he had to address this Master. "Sorry, Alec."

"Isn't there?" Alec looked at him intently, seemingly not having noticed his mistake.

Cir frowned, thinking furiously. "You mean, that you can go into my mind? But *I* can't do that! And besides, is it such a bad thing? Here in the Palace it would be useful — even what I can do is useful..."

Alec nodded, as if answering some question only he had heard before. "Yes, it figures... And I'm not so sure you can't, as you call it, go into my mind. What exactly can you do, Cir?"

"Well," Cir said, "I call it Scrying..."

"So that's why that page did not answer me about the name of the Key!" Alec interrupted him with a laugh.

"Yes," Cir smiled in answer, remembering the page's warning, which seemed so distant already. "I can... tap into everything in the Palace, and sometimes in other places too... see what happens, what is going to happen..." It was difficult to explain — Cir never had to do it before. Even to Iason... He only showed his true self to Iason, not his abilities.

"So," Alec sat up, obviously interested, "you can see the future?"

"Not always," Cir answered with a sigh. "It's never precise; it's difficult to see something definite."

Alec nodded. "It always is. I'm not precognitive, but I've heard enough about it. But you don't feel like a true precognitive — your mind is much too orderly. Almost like a machine..."

Cir hugged his knees, suddenly feeling hurt. Did Alec see him as a machine?

"I've never seen anybody like you," Alec went on thoughtfully. "I think you *are* a key indeed, Cir — a key to new possibilities!" Suddenly he smiled, and Cir found it difficult to remember his hurt feelings. He never guessed Alec could smile like this, with excitement and joy of a child with a new treat. Cir decided he would agree to *be* a machine if it made Alec smile like this.

"But I don't think you are totally non-telepathic," Alec added. "Interaction through these holograms requires that you establish some sort of a link... Cir, Cir, you've made me even more curious than I was!"

Cir looked at him, smiling, but finally he just had to ask, "But why did you say all this was bad?"

"Because," Alec absently tugged at a lock of his hair, suddenly looking far away into nothing, "being born with psi abilities like mine — or like yours, for that matter, — automatically lands you into trouble."

"Trouble from whom?" Cir asked.

"From everybody," Alec answered with a sigh. "From the government — but it's not much. They keep catching psi people to study them, and their research subjects keep escaping. Still, it's always better to keep clear of them. From other psi people..."

"Psi people meaning with abilities like yours? Or," Cir added slightly doubtfully, "like mine? But why?"

Alec shrugged. "Old feuds, mostly. Sometimes I think we were at war for too long and forgot how to be at peace."

"Feuds? But... I think I can understand about the government, but why would psi people be at war with each other?"

"Cir," Alec said evenly, "psi people — telepaths, mostly, — usually consider themselves a higher race. Our abilities give some basis to that idea, even though there are also limitations which many try very hard to forget. And It's not a far leap from considering yourself to be a member of the most powerful race to wanting to use that power on everyone else."

He stretched on the sand again and fell silent. Cir did not dare to ask more questions, trying instead to absorb all he was told. There were wars outside, wars from which he was far away. How did it change things for him?

Finally he asked softly. "Do *you* consider yourself to be of a higher race?"

"No," Alec answered equally softly.