Deathstalker 03 - Deathstalker War

I was, but there's nothing wrong with my eyes or my memory. You're Jack Random. No doubt about it.
    I'd stake my life on it."
    "Don't be so quick," said Madelaine. "Looks aren't everything. You said yourself he looks far too young. How do we know he isn't a clone?"

    "A gene test would answer that," Random said easily.
    "Unfortunately, we don't have access to tech like that here in Mistport," said Madelaine. "Convenient, that."
    "Hush, Madelaine," said Donald. "Easy enough to test the man. There are things only Jack and I would remember. Things we talked about, people we knew, back then. Right, Jack?"
    "Of course. Let me think for a moment. It was a long time ago." Random pursed his lips and rested his chin on his fist. "I remember some of the people you sent me to. There was Lord Durandal, the adventurer. Count Ironhand of the Marches. Is either of them still around?"
    "No," said Donald. "They're both gone now. Ironhand drowned, saving a child who'd fallen into the River Autumn. He was a good swimmer, for an old man. Got the child to safety. But the shock of the icy waters was too much for him. He knew it would be, but he went in anyway. He was that sort of man. Durandal disappeared into the Darkvoid, years ago, on some damn fool quest to find the Wolfling World. Don't know if he ever found it. He never came back."
    "Pity," said Random. "I admired them both. I was hoping they'd vouch for me, too. We still need some proof, don't we? How about this; you gave me all the gold you had on you, twenty-two years ago. And that was exactly seventeen crowns. Am I right?"
    "Exactly right!" said Donald, slapping his knee. "I remember now. Seventeen crowns. No one else could have known that, Madelaine."
    She shook her head stubbornly. "An esper could have got it out of Jack's head, or yours."
    "Oh, don't mind her," Donald said dismissively. "She was born suspicious. Had her mother's milk tested for steroids. You're the real thing, Jack; I can feel
    it in my bones. I'll vouch for you. And maybe this time you'll listen to me before you go haring off to fight for truth and justice with too few troops and no proper backup."
    "I'll listen this time," said Random. "I've learned from my mistakes."
    "You've had enough opportunities," said Madelaine, but both Donald and Jack ignored her.
    "We've got a real chance this time, Donald," said Random, leaning forward. "An army of clones and espers, and powerful allies beyond anything you've ever dreamed of. I won't throw it away because of my pride."
    "Good man," said Donald. "Get your people together and set up a meeting with the Council. Madelaine and I will be there."
    "Thank you, Donald. This means a lot to me." Random rose smoothly to his feet, then waited politely as Donald struggled up out of his chair. They clasped hands again, and Random strode out. Madelaine followed him to the door, to be sure he didn't steal anything, and then came back to stand in the doorway and glare at Donald.
    "You think he's a fake, don't you?" Donald said calmly, as he eased himself back into his chair.
    "Damn right I do. He's too good. Too perfect. Great-looking, muscles to spare, and all the right words and phrases. Like a popular hero designed by a committee. And I don't buy that regeneration story for one moment. I mean, technically speaking I suppose it's possible, but where would a rebel on the run gain access to that kind of tech? Last I heard, regeneration machines were strictly for the aristos. No, Donald, you only believe in him because you want to. Because he's one of the few good memories from your past that's still
    around."
    "Maybe," said Donald. "I don't believe he's telling us everything, or that everything he told us was true. But every instinct I have says it's him. He's just the way I remember him. A larger-than-life hero and a plausible rogue, all in one. He's passed the only tests I could think of. What else does he have to do to convince you, walk on water?"
    "If he did, I'd want to check his boots afterward," said Madelaine.
    Jenny Psycho made her way through the streets of Mistport, the crisp snow crunching under her steady stride. Her breath steamed thickly on the air before her, but she was pleasantly warm inside her furs. Heat and cold and other vagaries of the world had lost all power over her. According to her briefing, the espers' union had their own hall in Guilds Quarter, but she needn't have bothered with the directions. She could feel it in her mind, like a great searchlight