ll a throwaway cup
for him, without thinking. Handing it to him. I stopped in sudden dismay
and my hand shook, spilling a few drops. I said hoarsely, swallowing,
"--but drink it, anyway--"

Regis got a few drops down, painfully, and said, "My own fault. The
moment I saw--Jay Allison--I knew he was a madman. I'd have stopped him
sooner only he took me by surprise."

"But--you say _him_--I'm Jay Allison," I said, and then my knees went
weak and I sat down. "What in hell is this? I'm not Jay--but I'm not
Jason, either--"

I could remember my entire life, but the focus had shifted. I still felt
the old love, the old nostalgia for the trailmen; but I also knew, with
a sure sense of identity, that I was Doctor Jason Allison, Jr., who had
abandoned mountain climbing and become a specialist in Darkovan
parasitology. Not Jay who had rejected his world; not Jason who had been
rejected by it. But then who?

Regis said quietly, "I've seen you before--once. When you knelt to the
Old One of the trailmen." With a whimsical smile he said, "As an
ignorant superstitious Darkovan, I'd say that you were a man who'd
balanced his god and daemon for once."

I looked helplessly at the young Hastur. A few seconds ago my hands had
been at his throat. Jay or Jason, maddened by self-hate and jealousy,
could disclaim responsibility for the other's acts.

I couldn't.

Regis said, "We could take the easy way out, and arrange it so we'd
never have to see each other again. Or we could do it the hard way." He
extended his hand, and after a minute, I understood, and we shook hands
briefly, like strangers who have just met. He added, "Your work with the
trailmen is finished, but We Hasturs committed ourselves to teach some
of the Terrans our science--matrix mechanics. Dr. Allison--Jason--you
know Darkover, and I think we could work with you. Further, you know
something about slipping mental gears. I meant to ask; would you care to
be one of them? You'd be ideal."

I looked out the window at the distant mountains. This work--this would
be something which would satisfy both halves of myself. The irresistible
force, the immovable object--and no ghosts wandering in my brain. "I'll
do it," I told Regis. And then, deliberately, I turned my back on him
and went up to the quarters, now deserted, which we had readied for the
trailmen. With my new doubled--or complete--memories, another ghost had
roused up in my brain, and I remembered a woman who had app