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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19726-8.txt b/19726-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2fd6d2b --- /dev/null +++ b/19726-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5562 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Door Through Space, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Door Through Space + +Author: Marion Zimmer Bradley + +Release Date: November 6, 2006 [EBook #19726] +[Last updated: August 19, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Gregory D. Weeks, Jason Isbell, Irma Spehar +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +=THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE= + +Marion Zimmer Bradley + + +ACE BOOKS +A Division of Charter Communications Inc. +1120 Avenue of the Americas +New York, N.Y. 10036 + + + + +THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE + +Copyright (c), 1961, by Ace Books, Inc. + +All Rights Reserved + + + + +... _across half a Galaxy, the Terran Empire maintains its sovereignty +with the consent of the governed. It is a peaceful reign, held by +compact and not by conquest. Again and again, when rebellion threatens +the Terran Peace, the natives of the rebellious world have turned +against their own people and sided with the men of Terra; not from fear, +but from a sense of dedication._ + +_There has never been open war. The battle for these worlds is fought in +the minds of a few men who stand between worlds; bound to one world by +interest, loyalties and allegiance; bound to the other by love._ + +_Such a world is Wolf. Such a man was Race Cargill of the Terran Secret +Service._ + + + * * * * * + +RENDEZVOUS ON A LOST WORLD +Copyright (c), 1961, by Ace Books, Inc. + +Printed in U.S.A. + + * * * * * + + +=Author's Note:--= + +I've always wanted to write. But not until I discovered the old pulp +science-fantasy magazines, at the age of sixteen, did this general +desire become a specific urge to write science-fantasy adventures. + +I took a lot of detours on the way. I discovered s-f in its golden age: +the age of Kuttner, C.L. Moore, Leigh Brackett, Ed Hamilton and Jack +Vance. But while I was still collecting rejection slips for my early +efforts, the fashion changed. Adventures on faraway worlds and strange +dimensions went out of fashion, and the new look in +science-fiction--emphasis on the _science_--came in. + +So my first stories were straight science-fiction, and I'm not trying to +put down that kind of story. It has its place. By and large, the kind of +science-fiction which makes tomorrow's headlines as near as this +morning's coffee, has enlarged popular awareness of the modern, +miraculous world of science we live in. It has helped generations of +young people feel at ease with a rapidly changing world. + +But fashions change, old loves return, and now that Sputniks clutter up +the sky with new and unfamiliar moons, the readers of science-fiction +are willing to wait for tomorrow to read tomorrow's headlines. Once +again, I think, there is a place, a wish, a need and hunger for the +wonder and color of the world way out. The world beyond the stars. The +world we _won't_ live to see. That is why I wrote THE DOOR THROUGH +SPACE. + +--MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +Beyond the spaceport gates, the men of the Kharsa were hunting down a +thief. I heard the shrill cries, the pad-padding of feet in strides just +a little too long and loping to be human, raising echoes all down the +dark and dusty streets leading up to the main square. + +But the square itself lay empty in the crimson noon of Wolf. Overhead +the dim red ember of Phi Coronis, Wolf's old and dying sun, gave out a +pale and heatless light. The pair of Spaceforce guards at the gates, +wearing the black leathers of the Terran Empire, shockers holstered at +their belts, were drowsing under the arched gateway where the +star-and-rocket emblem proclaimed the domain of Terra. One of them, a +snub-nosed youngster only a few weeks out from Earth, cocked an +inquisitive ear at the cries and scuffling feet, then jerked his head at +me. + +"Hey, Cargill, you can talk their lingo. What's going on out there?" + +I stepped out past the gateway to listen. There was still no one to be +seen in the square. It lay white and windswept, a barricade of +emptiness; to one side the spaceport and the white skyscraper of the +Terran Headquarters, and at the other side, the clutter of low +buildings, the street-shrine, the little spaceport cafe smelling of +coffee and _jaco_, and the dark opening mouths of streets that rambled +down into the Kharsa--the old town, the native quarter. But I was alone +in the square with the shrill cries--closer now, raising echoes from the +enclosing walls--and the loping of many feet down one of the dirty +streets. + +Then I saw him running, dodging, a hail of stones flying round his head; +someone or something small and cloaked and agile. Behind him the +still-faceless mob howled and threw stones. I could not yet understand +the cries; but they were out for blood, and I knew it. + +I said briefly, "Trouble coming," just before the mob spilled out into +the square. The fleeing dwarf stared about wildly for an instant, his +head jerking from side to side so rapidly that it was impossible to get +even a fleeting impression of his face--human or nonhuman, familiar or +bizarre. Then, like a pellet loosed from its sling, he made straight for +the gateway and safety. + +And behind him the loping mob yelled and howled and came pouring over +half the square. Just half. Then by that sudden intuition which +permeates even the most crazed mob with some semblance of reason, they +came to a ragged halt, heads turning from side to side. + +I stepped up on the lower step of the Headquarters building, and looked +them over. + +Most of them were _chaks_, the furred man-tall nonhumans of the Kharsa, +and not the better class. Their fur was unkempt, their tails naked with +filth and disease. Their leather aprons hung in tatters. One or two in +the crowd were humans, the dregs of the Kharsa. But the star-and-rocket +emblem blazoned across the spaceport gates sobered even the wildest +blood-lust somewhat; they milled and shifted uneasily in their half of +the square. + +For a moment I did not see where their quarry had gone. Then I saw him +crouched, not four feet from me, in a patch of shadow. Simultaneously +the mob saw him, huddled just beyond the gateway, and a howl of +frustration and rage went ringing round the square. Someone threw a +stone. It zipped over my head, narrowly missing me, and landed at the +feet of the black-leathered guard. He jerked his head up and gestured +with the shocker which had suddenly come unholstered. + +The gesture should have been enough. On Wolf, Terran law has been +written in blood and fire and exploding atoms; and the line is drawn +firm and clear. The men of Spaceforce do not interfere in the old town, +or in any of the native cities. But when violence steps over the +threshold, passing the blazon of the star and rocket, punishment is +swift and terrible. The threat should have been enough. + +Instead a howl of abuse went up from the crowd. + +"_Terranan!_" + +"Son of the Ape!" + +The Spaceforce guards were shoulder to shoulder behind me now. The +snub-nosed kid, looking slightly pale, called out. "Get inside the +gates, Cargill! If I have to shoot--" + +The older man motioned him to silence. "Wait. Cargill," he called. + +I nodded to show that I heard. + +"You talk their lingo. Tell them to haul off! Damned if I want to +shoot!" + +I stepped down and walked into the open square, across the crumbled +white stones, toward the ragged mob. Even with two armed Spaceforce men +at my back, it made my skin crawl, but I flung up my empty hand in token +of peace: + +"Take your mob out of the square," I shouted in the jargon of the +Kharsa. "This territory is held in compact of peace! Settle your +quarrels elsewhere!" + +There was a little stirring in the crowd. The shock of being addressed +in their own tongue, instead of the Terran Standard which the Empire has +forced on Wolf, held them silent for a minute. I had learned that long +ago: that speaking in any of the languages of Wolf would give me a +minute's advantage. + +But only a minute. Then one of the mob yelled, "We'll go if you give'm +to us! He's no right to Terran sanctuary!" + +I walked over to the huddled dwarf, miserably trying to make himself +smaller against the wall. I nudged him with my foot. + +"Get up. Who are you?" + +The hood fell away from his face as he twitched to his feet. He was +trembling violently. In the shadow of the hood I saw a furred face, a +quivering velvety muzzle, and great soft golden eyes which held +intelligence and terror. + +"What have you done? Can't you talk?" + +He held out the tray which he had shielded under his cloak, an ordinary +peddler's tray. "Toys. Sell toys. Children. You got'm?" + +I shook my head and pushed the creature away, with only a glance at the +array of delicately crafted manikins, tiny animals, prisms and crystal +whirligigs. "You'd better get out of here. Scram. Down that street." I +pointed. + +A voice from the crowd shouted again, and it had a very ugly sound. "He +is a spy of Nebran!" + +"_Nebran--_" The dwarfish nonhuman gabbled something then doubled +behind me. I saw him dodge, feint in the direction of the gates, then, +as the crowd surged that way, run for the street-shrine across the +square, slipping from recess to recess of the wall. A hail of stones +went flying in that direction. The little toy-seller dodged into the +street-shrine. + +Then there was a hoarse "Ah, aaah!" of terror, and the crowd edged away, +surged backward. The next minute it had begun to melt away, its entity +dissolving into separate creatures, slipping into the side alleys and +the dark streets that disgorged into the square. Within three minutes +the square lay empty again in the pale-crimson noon. + +The kid in black leather let his breath go and swore, slipping his +shocker into its holster. He stared and demanded profanely, "Where'd the +little fellow go?" + +"Who knows?" the other shrugged. "Probably sneaked into one of the +alleys. Did you see where he went, Cargill?" + +I came slowly back to the gateway. To me, it had seemed that he ducked +into the street-shrine and vanished into thin air, but I've lived on +Wolf long enough to know you can't trust your eyes here. I said so, and +the kid swore again, gulping, more upset than he wanted to admit. "Does +this kind of thing happen often?" + +"All the time," his companion assured him soberly, with a sidewise wink +at me. I didn't return the wink. + +The kid wouldn't let it drop. "Where did you learn their lingo, Mr. +Cargill?" + +"I've been on Wolf a long time," I said, spun on my heel and walked +toward Headquarters. I tried not to hear, but their voices followed me +anyhow, discreetly lowered, but not lowered enough. + +"Kid, don't you know who he is? That's Cargill of the Secret Service! +Six years ago he was the best man in Intelligence, before--" The voice +lowered another decibel, and then there was the kid's voice asking, +shaken, "But what the hell happened to his face?" + +I should have been used to it by now. I'd been hearing it, more or less +behind my back, for six years. Well, if my luck held, I'd never hear it +again. I strode up the white steps of the skyscraper, to finish the +arrangements that would take me away from Wolf forever. To the other end +of the Empire, to the other end of the galaxy--anywhere, so long as I +need not wear my past like a medallion around my neck, or blazoned and +branded on what was left of my ruined face. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +The Terran Empire has set its blazon on four hundred planets circling +more than three hundred suns. But no matter what the color of the sun, +the number of moons overhead, or the geography of the planet, once you +step inside a Headquarters building, you are on Earth. And Earth would +be alien to many who called themselves Earthmen, judging by the +strangeness I always felt when I stepped into that marble-and-glass +world inside the skyscraper. I heard the sound of my steps ringing into +thin resonance along the marble corridor, and squinted my eyes, +readjusting them painfully to the cold yellowness of the lights. + +The Traffic Division was efficiency made insolent, in glass and chrome +and polished steel, mirrors and windows and looming electronic clerical +machines. Most of one wall was taken up by a TV monitor which gave a +view of the spaceport; a vast open space lighted with blue-white mercury +vapor lamps, and a chained-down skyscraper of a starship, littered over +with swarming ants. The process crew was getting the big ship ready for +skylift tomorrow morning. I gave it a second and then a third look. I'd +be on it when it lifted. + +Turning away from the monitored spaceport, I watched myself stride +forward in the mirrored surfaces that were everywhere; a tall man, a +lean man, bleached out by years under a red sun, and deeply scarred on +both cheeks and around the mouth. Even after six years behind a desk, my +neat business clothes--suitable for an Earthman with a desk job--didn't +fit quite right, and I still rose unconsciously on the balls of my feet, +approximating the lean stooping walk of a Dry-towner from the Coronis +plains. + +The clerk behind the sign marked TRANSPORTATION was a little rabbit of a +man with a sunlamp tan, barricaded by a small-sized spaceport of desk, +and looking as if he liked being shut up there. He looked up in civil +inquiry. + +"Can I do something for you?" + +"My name's Cargill. Have you a pass for me?" + +He stared. A free pass aboard a starship is rare except for professional +spacemen, which I obviously wasn't. "Let me check my records," he +hedged, and punched scanning buttons on the glassy surface. Shadows came +and went, and I saw myself half-reflected, a tipsy shadow in a flurry of +racing colors. The pattern finally stabilized and the clerk read off +names. + +"Brill, Cameron ... ah, yes. Cargill, Race Andrew, Department 38, +transfer transportation. Is that you?" + +I admitted it and he started punching more buttons when the sound of the +name made connection in whatever desk-clerks use for a brain. He stopped +with his hand halfway to the button. + +"Are you Race Cargill of the Secret Service, sir? _The_ Race Cargill?" + +"It's right there," I said, gesturing wearily at the projected pattern +under the glassy surface. + +"Why, I thought--I mean, everybody took it for granted--that is, I +heard--" + +"You thought Cargill had been killed a long time ago because his name +never turned up in news dispatches any more?" I grinned sourly, seeing +my image dissolve in blurring shadows, and feeling the long-healed scar +on my mouth draw up to make the grin hideous. "I'm Cargill, all right. +I've been up on Floor 38 for six years, holding down a desk any clerk +could handle. You for instance." + +He gaped. He was a rabbit of a man who had never stepped out of the safe +familiar boundaries of the Terran Trade City. "You mean _you're_ the man +who went to Charin in disguise, and routed out The Lisse? The man who +scouted the Black Ridge and Shainsa? And you've been working at a desk +upstairs all these years? It's--hard to believe, sir." + +My mouth twitched. It had been hard for me to believe while I was doing +it. "The pass?" + +"Right away, sir." He punched buttons and a printed chip of plastic +extruded from a slot on the desk top. "Your fingerprint, please?" He +pressed my finger into the still-soft surface of the plastic, indelibly +recording the print; waited a moment for it to harden, then laid the +chip in the slot of a pneumatic tube. I heard it whoosh away. + +"They'll check your fingerprint against that when you board the ship. +Skylift isn't till dawn, but you can go aboard as soon as the process +crew finishes with her." He glanced at the monitor screen, where the +swarming crew were still doing inexplicable things to the immobile +spacecraft. "It will be another hour or two. Where are you going, Mr. +Cargill?" + +"Some planet in the Hyades Cluster. Vainwal, I think, something like +that." + +"What's it like there?" + +"How should I know?" I'd never been there either. I only knew that +Vainwal had a red sun, and that the Terran Legate could use a trained +Intelligence officer. And _not_ pin him down to a desk. + +There was respect, and even envy in the little man's voice. "Could +I--buy you a drink before you go aboard, Mr. Cargill?" + +"Thanks, but I have a few loose ends to tie up." I didn't, but I was +damned if I'd spend my last hour on Wolf under the eyes of a deskbound +rabbit who preferred his adventure safely secondhand. + +But after I'd left the office and the building, I almost wished I'd +taken him up on it. It would be at least an hour before I could board +the starship, with nothing to do but hash over old memories, better +forgotten. + +The sun was lower now. Phi Coronis is a dim star, a dying star, and once +past the crimson zenith of noon, its light slants into a long +pale-reddish twilight. Four of Wolf's five moons were clustered in a +pale bouquet overhead, mingling thin violet moonlight into the crimson +dusk. + +The shadows were blue and purple in the empty square as I walked across +the stones and stood looking down one of the side streets. + +A few steps, and I was in an untidy slum which might have been on +another world from the neat bright Trade City which lay west of the +spaceport. The Kharsa was alive and reeking with the sounds and smells +of human and half-human life. A naked child, diminutive and +golden-furred, darted between two of the chinked pebble-houses, and +disappeared, spilling fragile laughter like breaking glass. + +A little beast, half snake and half cat, crawled across a roof, spread +leathery wings, and flapped to the ground. The sour pungent reek of +incense from the open street-shrine made my nostrils twitch, and a +hulked form inside, not human, cast me a surly green glare as I passed. + +I turned, retracing my steps. There was no danger, of course, so close +to the Trade City. Even on such planets as Wolf, Terra's laws are +respected within earshot of their gates. But there had been rioting here +and in Charin during the last month. After the display of mob violence +this afternoon, a lone Terran, unarmed, might turn up as a solitary +corpse flung on the steps of the HQ building. + +There had been a time when I had walked alone from Shainsa to the Polar +Colony. I had known how to melt into this kind of night, shabby and +inconspicuous, a worn shirtcloak hunched round my shoulders, weaponless +except for the razor-sharp skean in the clasp of the cloak; walking on +the balls of my feet like a Dry-towner, not looking or sounding or +smelling like an Earthman. + +That rabbit in the Traffic office had stirred up things I'd be wiser to +forget. It had been six years; six years of slow death behind a desk, +since the day when Rakhal Sensar had left me a marked man; death-warrant +written on my scarred face anywhere outside the narrow confines of the +Terran law on Wolf. + +Rakhal Sensar--my fists clenched with the old impotent hate. _If I could +get my hands on him!_ + +It had been Rakhal who first led me through the byways of the Kharsa, +teaching me the jargon of a dozen tribes, the chirping call of the +Ya-men, the way of the catmen of the rain-forests, the argot of thieves +markets, the walk and step of the Dry-towners from Shainsa and Daillon +and Ardcarran--the parched cities of dusty, salt stone which spread out +in the bottoms of Wolf's vanished oceans. Rakhal was from Shainsa, +human, tall as an Earthman, weathered by salt and sun, and he had worked +for Terran Intelligence since we were boys. We had traveled all over our +world together, and found it good. + +And then, for some reason I had never known, it had come to an end. +Even now I was not wholly sure why he had erupted, that day, into +violence and a final explosion. Then he had disappeared, leaving me a +marked man. And a lonely one: Juli had gone with him. + +I strode the streets of the slum unseeing, my thoughts running a +familiar channel. Juli, my kid sister, clinging around Rakhal's neck, +her gray eyes hating me. I had never seen her again. + +That had been six years ago. One more adventure had shown me that my +usefulness to the Secret Service was over. Rakhal had vanished, but he +had left me a legacy: my name, written on the sure scrolls of death +anywhere outside the safe boundaries of Terran law. A marked man, I had +gone back to slow stagnation behind a desk. I'd stood it as long as I +could. + +When it finally got too bad, Magnusson had been sympathetic. He was the +Chief of Terran Intelligence on Wolf, and I was next in line for his +job, but he understood when I quit. He'd arranged the transfer and the +pass, and I was leaving tonight. + +I was nearly back to the spaceport by now, across from the street-shrine +at the edge of the square. It was here that the little toy-seller had +vanished. But it was exactly like a thousand, a hundred thousand other +such street-shrines on Wolf, a smudge of incense reeking and stinking +before the squatting image of Nebran, the Toad God whose face and symbol +are everywhere on Wolf. I stared for a moment at the ugly idol, then +slowly moved away. + +The lighted curtains of the spaceport cafe attracted my attention and I +went inside. A few spaceport personnel in storm gear were drinking +coffee at the counter, a pair of furred _chaks_, lounging beneath the +mirrors at the far end, and a trio of Dry-towners, rangy, weathered men +in crimson and blue shirt cloaks, were standing at a wall shelf, eating +Terran food with aloof dignity. + +In my business clothes I felt more conspicuous than the _chaks_. What +place had a civilian here, between the uniforms of the spacemen and the +colorful brilliance of the Dry-towners? + +A snub-nosed girl with alabaster hair came to take my order. I asked for +_jaco_ and bunlets, and carried the food to a wall shelf near the +Dry-towners. Their dialect fell soft and familiar on my ears. One of +them, without altering the expression on his face or the easy tone of +his voice, began to make elaborate comments on my entrance, my +appearance, my ancestry and probably personal habits, all defined in the +colorfully obscene dialect of Shainsa. + +That had happened before. The Wolfan sense of humor is only half-human. +The finest joke is to criticize and insult a stranger, preferably an +Earthman, to his very face, in an unknown language, perfectly deadpan. +In my civilian clothes I was obviously fair game. + +A look or gesture of resentment would have lost face and dignity--what +the Dry-towners call their _kihar_--permanently. I leaned over and +remarked in their own dialect that I would, at some future and +unspecified time, appreciate the opportunity to return their +compliments. + +By rights they should have laughed, made some barbed remark about my +command of language and crossed their hands in symbol of a jest decently +reversed on themselves. Then we would have bought each other a drink, +and that would be that. + +But it didn't happen that way. Not this time. The tallest of the three +whirled, upsetting his drink in the process. I heard its thin shatter +through the squeal of the alabaster-haired girl, as a chair crashed +over. They faced me three abreast, and one of them fumbled in the clasp +of his shirtcloak. + +I edged backward, my own hand racing up for a skean I hadn't carried in +six years, and fronted them squarely, hoping I could face down the +prospect of a roughhouse. They wouldn't kill me, this close to the HQ, +but at least I was in for an unpleasant mauling. I couldn't handle three +men; and if nerves were this taut in the Kharsa, I might get knifed. +Quite by accident, of course. + +The _chaks_ moaned and gibbered. The Dry-towners glared at me and I +tensed for the moment when their steady stare would explode into +violence. + +Then I became aware that they were gazing, not at me, but at something +or someone behind me. The skeans snicked back into the clasps of their +cloaks. + +Then they broke rank, turned and ran. They _ran_, blundering into +stools, leaving havoc of upset benches and broken crockery in their +wake. One man barged into the counter, swore and ran on, limping. I let +my breath go. Something had put the fear of God into those brutes, and +it wasn't my own ugly mug. I turned and saw the girl. + +She was slight, with waving hair like spun black glass, circled with +faint tracery of stars. A black glass belt bound her narrow waist like +clasped hands, and her robe, stark white, bore an ugly embroidery across +the breasts, the flat sprawl of a conventionalized Toad God, Nebran. Her +features were delicate, chiseled, pale; a Dry-town face, all human, all +woman, but set in an alien and unearthly repose. The great eyes gleamed +red. They were fixed, almost unseeing, but the crimson lips were curved +with inhuman malice. + +She stood motionless, looking at me as if wondering why I had not run +with the others. In half a second, the smile flickered off and was +replaced by a startled look of--recognition? + +Whoever and whatever she was, she had saved me a mauling. I started to +phrase formal thanks, then broke off in astonishment. The cafe had +emptied and we were entirely alone. Even the _chaks_ had leaped through +an open window--I saw the whisk of a disappearing tail. + +We stood frozen, looking at one another while the Toad God sprawled +across her breasts rose and fell for half a dozen breaths. + +Then I took one step forward, and she took one step backward, at the +same instant. In one swift movement she was outside in the dark street. +It took me only an instant to get into the street after her, but as I +stepped across the door there was a little stirring in the air, like the +rising of heat waves across the salt flats at noon. Then the +street-shrine was empty, and nowhere was there any sign of the girl. She +had vanished. She simply was not there. + +I gaped at the empty shrine. She had stepped inside and vanished, like a +wraith of smoke, like-- + +--Like the little toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa. + +There were eyes in the street again and, becoming aware of where I was, +I moved away. The shrines of Nebran are on every corner of Wolf, but +this is one instance when familiarity does not breed contempt. The +street was dark and seemed empty, but it was packed with all the little +noises of living. I was not unobserved. And meddling with a +street-shrine would be just as dangerous as the skeans of my three +loud-mouthed Dry-town roughnecks. + +I turned and crossed the square for the last time, turning toward the +loom of the spaceship, filing the girl away as just another riddle of +Wolf I'd never solve. + +How wrong I was! + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +From the spaceport gates, exchanging brief greetings with the guards, I +took a last look at the Kharsa. For a minute I toyed with the notion of +just disappearing down one of those streets. It's not hard to disappear +on Wolf, if you know how. And I knew, or had known once. Loyalty to +Terra? What had Terra given me except a taste of color and adventure, +out there in the Dry-towns, and then taken it away again? + +If an Earthman is very lucky and very careful, he lasts about ten years +in Intelligence. I had had two years more than my share. I still knew +enough to leave my Terran identity behind like a worn-out jacket. I +could seek out Rakhal, settle our blood-feud, see Juli again.... + +How could I see Juli again? As her husband's murderer? No other way. +Blood-feud on Wolf is a terrible and elaborate ritual of the code +duello. And once I stepped outside the borders of Terran law, sooner or +later Rakhal and I would meet. And one of us would die. + +I looked back, just once, at the dark rambling streets away from the +square. Then I turned toward the blue-white lights that hurt my eyes, +and the starship that loomed, huge and hateful, before me. + +A steward in white took my fingerprint and led me to a coffin-sized +chamber. He brought me coffee and sandwiches--I hadn't, after all, eaten +in the spaceport cafe--then got me into the skyhook and strapped me, +deftly and firmly, into the acceleration cushions, tugging at the +Garensen belts until I ached all over. A long needle went into my +arm--the narcotic that would keep me safely drowsy all through the +terrible tug of interstellar acceleration. + +Doors clanged, buzzers vibrated lower down in the ship, men tramped the +corridors calling to one another in the language of the spaceports. I +understood one word in four. I shut my eyes, not caring. At the end of +the trip there would be another star, another world, another language. +Another life. + +I had spent all my adult life on Wolf. Juli had been a child under the +red star. But it was a pair of wide crimson eyes and black hair combed +into ringlets like spun black glass that went down with me into the +bottomless pit of sleep.... + + * * * * * + +Someone was shaking me. + +"Ah, come on, Cargill. Wake up, man. Shake your boots!" + +My mouth, foul-tasting and stiff, fumbled at the shapes of words. "Wha' +happened? Wha' y' want?" My eyes throbbed. When I got them open I saw +two men in black leathers bending over me. We were still inside gravity. + +"Get out of the skyhook. You're coming with us." + +"Wha'--" Even through the layers of the sedative, that got to me. Only a +criminal, under interstellar law, can be removed from a passage-paid +starship once he has formally checked in on board. I was legally, at +this moment, on my "planet of destination." + +"I haven't been charged--" + +"Did I say you had?" snapped one man. + +"Shut up, he's doped," the other said hurriedly. "Look," he continued, +pronouncing every word loudly and distinctly, "get up now, and come with +us. The co-ordinator will hold up blastoff if we don't get off in three +minutes, and Operations will scream. Come on, please." + +Then I was stumbling along the lighted, empty corridor, swaying between +the two men, foggily realizing the crew must think me a fugitive caught +trying to leave the planet. + +The locks dilated. A uniformed spaceman watched us, fussily regarding a +chronometer. He fretted. "The dispatcher's office--" + +"We're doing the best we can," the Spaceforce man said. "Can you walk, +Cargill?" + +I could, though my feet were a little shaky on the ladders. The violet +moonlight had deepened to mauve, and gusty winds spun tendrils of grit +across my face. The Spaceforce men shepherded me, one on either side, to +the gateway. + +"What the hell is all this? Is something wrong with my pass?" + +The guard shook his head. "How would I know? Magnusson put out the +order, take it up with him." + +"Believe me," I muttered, "I will." + +They looked at each other. "Hell," said one, "he's not under arrest, we +don't have to haul him around like a convict. Can you walk all right +now, Cargill? You know where the Secret Service office is, don't you? +Floor 38. The Chief wants you, and make it fast." + +I knew it made no sense to ask questions, they obviously knew no more +than I did. I asked anyhow. + +"Are they holding the ship for me? I'm supposed to be leaving on it." + +"Not that one," the guard answered, jerking his head toward the +spaceport. I looked back just in time to see the dust-dimmed ship leap +upward, briefly whitened in the field searchlights, and vanish into the +surging clouds above. + +My head was clearing fast, and anger speeded up the process. The HQ +building was empty in the chill silence of just before dawn. I had to +rout out a dozing elevator operator, and as the lift swooped upward my +anger rose with it. I wasn't working for Magnusson any more. What right +had he, or anybody, to grab me off an outbound starship like a criminal? +By the time I barged into his office, I was spoiling for a fight. + +The Secret Service office was full of grayish-pink morning and yellow +lights left on from the night before. Magnusson, at his desk, looked as +if he'd slept in his rumpled uniform. He was a big bull of a man, and +his littered desk looked, as always, like the track of a typhoon in the +salt flats. + +The clutter was weighted down, here and there, with solidopic cubes of +the five Magnusson youngsters, and as usual, Magnusson was fiddling with +one of the cubes. He said, not looking up, "Sorry to pull this at the +last minute, Race. There was just time to put out a pull order and get +you off the ship, but no time to explain." + +I glared at him. "Seems I can't even get off the planet without trouble! +You raised hell all the time I was here, but when I try to leave--what +is this, anyhow? I'm sick of being shoved around!" + +Magnusson made a conciliating gesture. "Wait until you hear--" he began, +and broke off, looking at someone who was sitting in the chair in front +of his desk, somebody whose back was turned to me. Then the person +twisted and I stopped cold, blinking and wondering if this were a +hallucination and I'd wake up in the starship's skyhook, far out in +space. + +Then the woman cried, "Race, _Race_! Don't you know me?" + +I took one dazed step and another. Then she flew across the space +between us, her thin arms tangling around my neck, and I caught her up, +still disbelieving. + +"_Juli!_" + +"Oh, Race, I thought I'd die when Mack told me you were leaving tonight. +It's been the only thing that's kept me alive, knowing--knowing I'd see +you." She sobbed and laughed, her face buried in my shoulder. + +I let her cry for a minute, then held my sister at arm's length. For a +moment I had forgotten the six years that lay between us. Now I saw +them, all of them, printed plain on her face. Juli had been a pretty +girl. Six years had fined her face into beauty, but there was tension in +the set of her shoulders, and her gray eyes had looked on horrors. + +She looked tiny and thin and unbearably frail under the scanty folds of +her fur robe, a Dry-town woman's robe. Her wrists were manacled, the +jeweled tight bracelets fastened together by the links of a long fine +chain of silvered gilt that clashed a little, thinly, as her hands fell +to her sides. + +"What's wrong, Juli? Where's Rakhal?" + +She shivered and now I could see that she was in a state of shock. + +"Gone. He's gone, that's all I know. And--oh, Race, Race, he took Rindy +with him!" + +From the tone of her voice I had thought she was sobbing. Now I realized +that her eyes were dry; she was long past tears. Gently I unclasped her +clenched fingers and put her back in the chair. She sat like a doll, her +hands falling to her sides with a thin clash of chains. When I picked +them up and laid them in her lap she let them lie there motionless. I +stood over her and demanded, "Who's Rindy?" She didn't move. + +"My daughter, Race. Our little girl." + +Magnusson broke in, his voice harsh. "Well, Cargill, should I have let +you leave?" + +"Don't be a damn fool!" + +"I was afraid you'd tell the poor kid she had to live with her own +mistakes," growled Magnusson. "You're capable of it." + +For the first time Juli showed a sign of animation. "I was afraid to +come to you, Mack. You never wanted me to marry Rakhal, either." + +"Water under the bridge," Magnusson grunted. "And I've got lads of my +own, Miss Cargill--Mrs.--" he stopped in distress, vaguely remembering +that in the Dry-towns an improper form of address can be a deadly +insult. + +But she guessed his predicament. + +"You used to call me Juli, Mack. It will do now." + +"You've changed," he said quietly. "Juli, then. Tell Race what you told +me. All of it." + +She turned to me. "I shouldn't have come for myself--" + +I knew that. Juli was proud, and she had always had the courage to live +with her own mistakes. When I first saw her, I knew this wouldn't be +anything so simple as the complaint of an abused wife or even an +abandoned or deserted mother. I took a chair, watching her and +listening. + +She began. "You made a mistake when you turned Rakhal out of the +Service, Mack. In his way he was the most loyal man you had on Wolf." + +Magnusson had evidently not expected her to take this tack. He scowled +and looked disconcerted, shifting uneasily in his big chair, but when +Juli did not continue, obviously awaiting his answer, he said, "Juli, he +left me no choice. I never knew how his mind worked. That final deal he +engineered--have you any idea how much that cost the Service? And have +you taken a good look at your brother's face, Juli girl?" + +Juli raised her eyes slowly, and I saw her flinch. I knew how she felt. +For three years I had kept my mirror covered, growing an untidy +straggle of beard because it hid the scars and saved me the ordeal of +facing myself to shave. + +Juli whispered, "Rakhal's is just as bad. Worse." + +"That's some satisfaction," I said, and Mack stared at us, baffled. +"Even now I don't know what it was all about." + +"And you never will," I said for the hundredth time. "We've been over +this before. Nobody could understand it unless he'd lived in the +Dry-towns. Let's not talk about it. You talk, Juli. What brought you +here like this? What about the kid?" + +"There's no way I can tell you the end without telling you the +beginning," she said reasonably. "At first Rakhal worked as a trader in +Shainsa." + +I wasn't surprised. The Dry-towns were the core of Terran trade on Wolf, +and it was through their cooperation that Terra existed here peaceably, +on a world only half human, or less. + +The men of the Dry-towns existed strangely poised between two worlds. +They had made dealings with the first Terran ships, and thus gave +entrance to the wedge of the Terran Empire. And yet they stood proud and +apart. They alone had never yielded to the Terranizing which overtakes +all Empire planets sooner or later. + +There were no Trade Cities in the Dry-towns; an Earthman who went there +unprotected faced a thousand deaths, each one worse than the last. There +were those who said that the men of Shainsa and Daillon and Ardcarran +had sold the rest of Wolf to the Terrans, to keep the Terrans from their +own door. + +Even Rakhal, who had worked with Terra since boyhood, had finally come +to a point of decision and gone his own way. And it was not Terra's way. + +That was what Juli was saying now. + +"He didn't like what Terra was doing on Wolf. I'm not so sure I like it +myself--" + +Magnusson interrupted her again. "Do you know what Wolf was like when we +came here? Have you seen the Slave Colony, the Idiot's Village? Your own +brother went to Shainsa and routed out The Lisse." + +"And Rakhal helped him!" Juli reminded him. "Even after he left you, he +tried to keep out of things. He could have told them a good deal that +would hurt you, after ten years in Intelligence, you know." + +I knew. It was, although I wasn't going to tell Juli this, one reason +why, at the end--during that terrible explosion of violence which no +normal Terran mind could comprehend--I had done my best to kill him. We +had both known that after this, the planet would not hold the two of us. +We could both go on living only by dividing it unevenly. I had been +given the slow death of the Terran Zone. And he had all the rest. + +"But he never told them anything! I tell you, he was one of the most +loyal--" + +Mack grunted, "Yeah, he's an angel. Go ahead." + +She didn't, not immediately. Instead she asked what sounded like an +irrelevant question. "Is it true what he told me? That the Empire has a +standing offer of a reward for a working model of a matter transmitter?" + +"That offer's been standing for three hundred years, Terran reckoning. +One million credits cash. Don't tell me he was figuring to invent one?" + +"I don't think so. But I think he heard rumors about one. He said with +that kind of money he could bargain the Terrans right out of Shainsa. +That was where it started. He began coming and going at odd times, but +he never said any more about it. He wouldn't talk to me at all." + +"When was all this?" + +"About four months ago." + +"In other words, just about the time of the riots in Charin." + +She nodded. "Yes. He was away in Charin when the Ghost Wind blew, and he +came back with knife cuts in his thigh. I asked if he had been mixed-up +in the anti-Terran rioting, but he wouldn't tell me. Race, I don't know +anything about politics. I don't really care. But just about that time, +the Great House in Shainsa changed hands. I'm sure Rakhal had something +to do with that. + +"And then--" Juli twisted her chained hands together in her lap--"he +tried to mix Rindy up in it. It was crazy, awful! He'd brought her some +sort of nonhuman toy from one of the lowland towns, Charin I think. It +was a weird thing, scared me. But he'd sit Rindy down in the sunlight +and have her look into it, and Rindy would gabble all sorts of nonsense +about little men and birds and a toymaker." + +The chains about Juli's wrists clashed as she twisted her hands +together. I stared somberly at the fetters. The chain, which was long, +did not really hamper her movements much. Such chains were symbolic +ornaments, and most Dry-town women went all their lives with fettered +hands. But even after the years I'd spent in the Dry-towns, the sight +still brought an uneasiness to my throat, a vague discomfort. + +"We had a terrible fight over that," Juli went on. "I was afraid, afraid +of what it was doing to Rindy. I threw it out, and Rindy woke up and +screamed--" Juli checked herself and caught at vanishing self-control. + +"But you don't want to hear about that. It was then I threatened to +leave him and take Rindy. The next day--" Suddenly the hysteria Juli had +been forcing back broke free, and she rocked back and forth in her +chair, shaken and strangled with sobs. "He took Rindy! Oh, Race, he's +crazy, crazy. I think he hates Rindy, he--he, Race, _he smashed her +toys_. He took every toy the child had and broke them one by one, +smashed them into powder, every toy the child had--" + +"Juli, please, please," Magnusson pleaded, shaken. "If we're dealing +with a maniac--" + +"I don't dare think he'd harm her! He warned me not to come here, or I'd +never see her again, but if it meant war against Terra I had to come. +But Mack, please, don't do anything against him, please, please. He's +got my baby, he's got my little girl...." Her voice failed and she +buried her face in her hands. + +Mack picked up the solidopic cube of his five-year-old son, and turned +it between his pudgy fingers, saying unhappily, "Juli, we'll take every +precaution. But can't you see, we've got to get him? If there's a +question of a matter transmitter, or anything like that, in the hands of +Terra's enemies--" + +I could see that, too, but Juli's agonized face came between me and the +picture of disaster. I clenched my fist around the chair arm, not +surprised to see the fragile plastic buckle, crack and split under my +grip. _If it had been Rakhal's neck...._ + +"Mack, let me handle this. Juli, shall I find Rindy for you?" + +A hope was born in her ravaged face, and died, while I looked. "Race, +he'd kill you. Or have you killed." + +"He'd try," I admitted. The moment Rakhal knew I was outside the Terran +zone, I'd walk with death. I had accepted the code during my years in +Shainsa. But now I was an Earthman and felt only contempt. + +"Can't you see? Once he knows I'm at large, that very code of his will +force him to abandon any intrigue, whatever you call it, conspiracy, and +come after me first. That way we do two things: we get him out of +hiding, and we get him out of the conspiracy, if there is one." + +I looked at the shaking Juli and something snapped. I stooped and lifted +her, not gently, my hands biting her shoulders. "And I won't kill him, +do you hear? He may wish I had; by the time I get through with him--I'll +beat the living hell out of him; I'll cram my fists down his throat. But +I'll settle it with him like an Earthman. I won't kill him. _Hear me, +Juli?_ Because that's the worst thing I could do to him--catch him and +let him live afterward!" + +Magnusson stepped toward me and pried my crushing hands off her arms. +Juli rubbed the bruises mechanically, not knowing she was doing it. Mack +said, "You can't do it, Cargill. You wouldn't get as far as Daillon. You +haven't been out of the zone in six years. Besides--" + +His eyes rested full on my face. "I hate to say this, Race, but damn it, +man, go and take a good look at yourself in a mirror. Do you think I'd +ever have pulled you off the Secret Service otherwise? How in hell can +you disguise yourself now?" + +"There are plenty of scarred men in the Dry-towns," I said. "Rakhal will +remember my scars, but I don't think anyone else would look twice." + +Magnusson walked to the window. His huge form bulked against the light, +perceptibly darkening the office. He looked over the faraway panorama, +the neat bright Trade City below and the vast wilderness lying outside. +I could almost hear the wheels grinding in his head. Finally he swung +around. + +"Race, I've heard these rumors before. But you're the only man I could +have sent to track them down, and I wouldn't send you out in cold blood +to be killed. I won't now. Spaceforce will pick him up." + +I heard the harsh inward gasp of Juli's breath and said, "Damn it, no. +The first move you make--" I couldn't finish. Rindy was in his hands, +and when I knew Rakhal, he hadn't been given to making idle threats. We +all three knew what Rakhal might do at the first hint of the long arm of +Terran law reaching out for him. + +I said, "For God's sake let's keep Spaceforce out of it. Let it look +like a personal matter between Rakhal and me, and let us settle it on +those terms. Remember he's got the kid." + +Magnusson sighed. Again he picked up one of the cubes and stared into +the clear plastic, where the three-dimensional image of a nine-year-old +girl looked out at him, smiling and innocent. His face was transparent +as the plastic cube. Mack acts tough, but he has five kids and he is as +soft as a dish of pudding where a kid is concerned. + +"I know. Another thing, too. If we send out Spaceforce, after all the +riots--how many Terrans are on this planet? A few thousand, no more. +What chance would we have, if it turned into a full-scale rebellion? +None at all, unless we wanted to order a massacre. Sure, we have bombs +and dis-guns and all that. + +"But would we dare to use them? And where would we be after that? We're +here to keep the pot from boiling over, to keep out of planetary +incidents, not push them along to a point where bluff won't work. That's +why we've got to pick up Rakhal before this gets out of hand." + +I said, "Give me a month. Then you can move in, if you have to. Rakhal +can't do much against Terra in that time. And I might be able to keep +Rindy out of it." + +Magnusson stared at me, hard-eyed. "If you do this against my advice, I +won't be able to step in and pull you out of a jam later on, you know. +And God help you if you start up the machines and can't stop them." + +I knew that. A month wasn't much. Wolf is forty thousand miles of +diameter, at least half unexplored; mountain and forest swarming with +nonhuman and semi-human cities where Terrans had never been. + +Finding Rakhal, or any one man, would be like picking out one star in +the Andromeda nebula. Not impossible. Not _quite_ impossible. + +Mack's eyes wandered again to his child's face, deep in the transparent +cube. He turned it in his hands. "Okay, Cargill," he said slowly, "so +we're all crazy. I'll be crazy too. Try it your way." + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +By sunset I was ready to leave. I hadn't had any loose ends to tie up in +the Trade City, since I'd already disposed of most of my gear before +boarding the starship. I'd never been in better circumstances to take +off for parts unknown. + +Mack, still disapproving, had opened the files to me, and I'd spent most +of the day in the back rooms of Floor 38, searching Intelligence files +to refresh my memory, scanning the pages of my own old reports sent +years ago from Shainsa and Daillon. He had sent out one of the nonhumans +who worked for us, to buy or acquire somewhere in the Old Town a +Dry-towner's outfit and the other things I would wear and carry. + +I would have liked to go myself. I felt that I needed the practice. I +was only now beginning to realize how much I might have forgotten in the +years behind a desk. But until I was ready to make my presence known, no +one must know that Race Cargill had not left Wolf on the starship. + +Above all, I must not be seen in the Kharsa until I went there in the +Dry-town disguise which had become, years ago, a deep second nature, +almost an alternate personality. + +About sunset I walked through the clean little streets of the Terran +Trade City toward the Magnusson home where Juli was waiting for me. + +Most of the men who go into Civil Service of the Empire come from Earth, +or from the close-in planets of Proxima and Alpha Centaurus. They go out +unmarried, and they stay that way, or marry women native to the planets +where they are sent. + +But Joanna Magnusson was one of the rare Earth women who had come out +with her husband, twenty years ago. There are two kinds of Earthwomen +like that. They make their quarterings a little bit of home, or a little +bit of hell. Joanna had made their house look like a transported corner +of Earth. + +I never knew quite what to think of the Magnusson household. It seemed +to me almost madness to live under a red sun, yet come inside to yellow +light, to live on a world with the wild beauty of Wolf and yet live as +they might have lived on their home planet. Or maybe I was the one who +was out of step. I had done the reprehensible thing they called "going +native." Possibly I had done just that, and in absorbing myself into the +new world, had lost the ability to fit into the old. + +Joanna, a chubby comfortable woman in her forties, opened the door and +gave me her hand. "Come in, Race. Juli's expecting you." + +"It's good of you." I broke off, unable to express my gratitude. Juli +and I had come from Earth--our father had been an officer on the old +starship _Landfall_ when Juli was only a child. He had died in a wreck +off Procyon, and Mack Magnusson had found me a place in Intelligence +because I spoke four of the Wolf languages and haunted the Kharsa with +Rakhal whenever I could get away. + +They had also taken Juli into their own home, like a younger sister. +They hadn't said much--because they had liked Rakhal--when the breakup +came. But that terrible night when Rakhal and I nearly killed each +other, and Rakhal came with his face bleeding and took Juli away with +him, had hurt them hard. Yet it had made them all the kinder to me. + +Joanna said forthrightly, "Nonsense, Race! What else could we do?" She +drew me along the hall. "You can talk in here." + +I delayed a minute before going through the door she indicated. "How is +Juli?" + +"Better, I think. I put her to bed in Meta's room, and she slept most of +the day. She'll be all right. I'll leave you to talk." Joanna opened the +door, and went away. + +Juli was awake and dressed, and already some of the terrible frozen +horror was gone from her face. She was still tense and devil-ridden, but +not hysterical now. + +The room, one of the children's bedrooms, wasn't a big one. Even at the +top of the Secret Service, a cop doesn't live too well. Not on Terra's +Civil Service pay scale. Not, with five youngsters. It looked as if all +five of the kids had taken it to pieces, one at a time. + +I sat down on a too-low chair and said, "Juli, we haven't much time, +I've got to be out of the city before dark. I want to know about Rakhal, +what he does, what he's like now. Remember, I haven't seen him for +years. Tell me everything--his friends, his amusements, everything you +know." + +"I always thought you knew him better than I did." Juli had a fidgety +little way of coiling the links of the chain around her wrists and it +made me nervous. + +"It's routine, Juli. Police work. Mostly I play by ear, but I try to +start out by being methodical." + +She answered everything I asked her, but the sum total wasn't much and +it wouldn't help much. As I said, it's easy to disappear on Wolf. Juli +knew he had been friendly with the new holders of the Great House on +Shainsa, but she didn't even know their name. + +I heard one of the Magnusson children fly to the street door and return, +shouting for her mother. Joanna knocked at the door of the room and came +in. + +"There's a _chak_ outside who wants to see you, Race." + +I nodded. "Probably my fancy dress. Can I change in the back room, +Joanna? Will you keep my clothes here till I get back?" + +I went to the door and spoke to the furred nonhuman in the sibilant +jargon of the Kharsa and he handed me what looked like a bundle of rags. +There were hard lumps inside. The _chak_ said softly, "I hear a rumor in +the Kharsa, _Raiss_. Perhaps it will help you. Three men from Shainsa +are in the city. They came here to seek a woman who has vanished, and a +toymaker. They are returning at sunrise. Perhaps you can arrange to +travel in their caravan." + +I thanked him and carried the bundle inside. In the empty back room I +stripped to the skin and unrolled the bundle. There was a pair of baggy +striped breeches, a worn and shabby shirtcloak with capacious pockets, a +looped belt with half the gilt rubbed away and the base metal showing +through, and a scuffed pair of ankle-boots tied with frayed thongs of +different colors. There was a little cluster of amulets and seals. I +chose two or three of the commonest kind, and strung them around my +neck. + +One of the lumps in the bundle was a small jar, holding nothing but the +ordinary spices sold in the market, with which the average Dry-towner +flavors food. I rubbed some of the powder on my body, put a pinch in the +pocket of my shirtcloak, and chewed a few of the buds, wrinkling my nose +at the long-unfamiliar pungency. + +The second lump was a skean, and unlike the worn and shabby garments, +this was brand-new and sharp and bright, and its edge held a razor +glint. I tucked it into the clasp of my shirtcloak, a reassuring weight. +It was the only weapon I could dare to carry. + +The last of the solid objects in the bundle was a flat wooden case, +about nine by ten inches. I slid it open. It was divided carefully into +sections cushioned with sponge-absorbent plastic, and in them lay tiny +slips of glass, on Wolf as precious as jewels. They were lenses--camera +lenses, microscope lenses, even eyeglass lenses. Packed close, there +were nearly a hundred of them nested by the shock-absorbent stuff. + +They were my excuse for travel to Shainsa. Over and above the +necessities of trade, a few items of Terran manufacture--vacuum tubes, +transistors, lenses for cameras and binoculars, liquors and finely +forged small tools--are literally worth their weight in platinum. + +Even in cities where Terrans have never gone, these things bring +exorbitant prices, and trading in them is a Dry-town privilege. Rakhal +had been a trader, so Juli told me, in fine wire and surgical +instruments. Wolf is not a mechanized planet, and has never developed +any indigenous industrial system; the psychology of the nonhuman seldom +runs to technological advances. + +I went down the hallway again to the room where Juli was waiting. +Catching a glimpse in a full-length mirror, I was startled. All traces +of the Terran civil servant, clumsy and uncomfortable in his ill-fitting +clothes, had dropped away. A Dry-towner, rangy and scarred, looked out +at me, and it seemed that the expression on his face was one of +amazement. + +Joanna whirled as I came into the room and visibly paled before, +recovering her self-control, she gave a nervous little giggle. +"Goodness, Race, I didn't know you!" + +Juli whispered, "Yes, I--I remember you better like that. You're--you +look so much like--" + +The door flew open and Mickey Magnusson scampered into the room, a +chubby little boy browned by a Terra-type sunlamp and glowing with +health. In his hand he held some sparkling thing that gave off tiny +flashes and glints of color. + +I gave the kid a grin before I realized that I was disguised anyhow and +probably a hideous sight. The little boy backed off, but Joanna put her +plump hand on his shoulder, murmuring soothing things. + +Mickey toddled toward Juli, holding up the shining thing in his hands as +if to display something very precious and beloved. Juli bent and held +out her arms, then her face contracted and she snatched at the +plaything. + +"Mickey, what's that?" + +He thrust it protectively behind his back. "Mine!" + +"Mickey, don't be naughty," Joanna chided. + +"Please let me see," Juli coaxed, and he brought it out, slowly, still +suspicious. It was an angled prism of crystal, star-shaped, set in a +frame which could get the star spinning like a solidopic. But it +displayed a new and comical face every time it was turned. + +Mickey turned it round and round, charmed at being the center of +attention. There seemed to be dozens of faces, shifting with each spin +of the prism, human and nonhuman, all dim and slightly distorted. My own +face, Juli's, Joanna's came out of the crystal surface, not a reflection +but a caricature. + +A choked sound from Juli made me turn in dismay. She had let herself +drop to the floor and was sitting there, white as death, supporting +herself with her two hands. + +"Race! Find out where he got that--that _thing_!" + +I bent and shook her. "What's the matter with you?" I demanded. She had +lapsed into the dazed, sleepwalking horror of this morning. She +whispered, "It's not a toy. Rindy had one. Joanna, _where did he get +it_?" She pointed at the shining thing with an expression of horror +which would have been laughable had it been less real, less filled with +terror. + +Joanna cocked her head to one side and wrinkled her forehead, +reflectively. "Why, I don't know, now you come to ask me. I thought +maybe one of the _chaks_ had given it to Mickey. Bought it in the +bazaar, maybe. He loves it. Do get up off the floor, Juli!" + +Juli scrambled to her feet. She said, "Rindy had one. It--it terrified +me. She would sit and look at it by the hour, and--I told you about it, +Race. I threw it out once, and she woke up and screamed. She shrieked +for hours and hours and she ran out in the dark and dug for it in the +trash pile, where I'd buried it. She went out in the dark, broke all her +fingernails, but she dug it out again." She checked herself, staring at +Joanna, her eyes wide in appeal. + +"Well, dear," said Joanna with mild, rebuking kindness, "you needn't be +so upset. I don't think Mickey's so attached to it as all that, and +anyhow I'm not going to throw it away." She patted Juli reassuringly on +the shoulder, then gave Mickey a little shove toward the door and turned +to follow him. "You'll want to talk alone before Race leaves. Good luck, +wherever you're going, Race." She held out her hand forthrightly. + +"And don't worry about Juli," she added in an undertone. "We'll take +good care of her." + +When I came back to Juli she was standing by the window, looking through +the oddly filtered glass that dimmed the red sun to orange. "Joanna +thinks I'm crazy, Race." + +"She thinks you're upset." + +"Rindy's an odd child, a real Dry-towner. But it's not my imagination, +Race, it's not. There's something--" Suddenly she sobbed aloud again. + +"Homesick, Juli?" + +"I was, a little, the first years. But I was happy, believe me." She +turned her face to me, shining with tears. "You've got to believe I +never regretted it for a minute." + +"I'm glad," I said dully. _That made it just fine._ + +"Only that toy--" + +"Who knows? It might be a clue to something." The toy had reminded me of +something, too, and I tried to remember what it was. I'd seen nonhuman +toys in the Kharsa, even bought them for Mack's kids. When a single man +is invited frequently to a home with five youngsters, it's about the +only way he can repay that hospitality, by bringing the children odd +trifles and knicknacks. But I had never seen anything quite like this +one, until-- + +--Until yesterday. The toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa, the +one who had fled into the shrine of Nebran and vanished. He had had half +a dozen of those prism-and-star sparklers. + +I tried to call up a mental picture of the little toy-seller. I didn't +have much luck. I'd seen him only in that one swift glance from beneath +his hood. "Juli, have you ever seen a little man, like a _chak_ only +smaller, twisted, hunchbacked? He sells toys--" + +She looked blank. "I don't think so, although there are dwarf _chaks_ in +the Polar Cities. But I'm sure I've never seen one." + +"It was just an idea." But it was something to think about. A toy-seller +had vanished. Rakhal, before disappearing, had smashed all Rindy's toys. +And the sight of a plaything of cunningly-cut crystal had sent Juli into +hysterics. + +"I'd better go before it's too dark," I said. I buckled the final clasp +of my shirtcloak, fitted my skean another notch into it, and counted the +money Mack had advanced me for expenses. "I want to get into the Kharsa +and hunt up the caravan to Shainsa." + +"You're going there first?" + +"Where else?" + +Juli turned, leaning one hand against the wall. She looked frail and +ill, years older than she was. Suddenly she flung her thin arms around +me, and a link of the chain on her fettered hands struck me hard, as she +cried out, "Race, Race, he'll kill you! How can I live with that on my +conscience too?" + +"You can live with a hell of a lot on your conscience." I disengaged her +arms firmly from my neck. A link of the chain caught on the clasp of my +shirtcloak, and again something snapped inside me. I grasped the chain +in my two hands and gave a mighty heave, bracing my foot against the +wall. The links snapped asunder. A flying end struck Juli under the eye. +I ripped at the seals of the jeweled cuffs, tore them from her arms, +find threw the whole assembly into a corner, where it fell with a +clash. + +"Damn it," I roared, "that's over! You're never going to wear _those_ +things again!" Maybe after six years in the Dry-towns, Juli was +beginning to guess what those six years behind a desk had meant to me. + +"Juli, I'll find your Rindy for you, and I'll bring Rakhal in alive. But +don't ask more than that. Just _alive_. And don't ask me how." + +He'd be alive when I got through with him. Sure, he'd be alive. + +Just. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +It was getting dark when I slipped through a side gate, shabby and +inconspicuous, into the spaceport square. Beyond the yellow lamps, I +knew that the old city was beginning to take on life with the falling +night. Out of the chinked pebble-houses, men and woman, human and +nonhuman, came forth into the moonlit streets. + +If anyone noticed me cross the square, which I doubted, they took me for +just another Dry-town vagabond, curious about the world of the strangers +from beyond the stars, and who, curiosity satisfied, was drifting back +where he belonged. I turned down one of the dark alleys that led away, +and soon was walking in the dark. + +The Kharsa was not unfamiliar to me as a Terran, but for the last six +years I had seen only its daytime face. I doubted if there were a dozen +Earthmen in the Old Town tonight, though I saw one in the bazaar, dirty +and lurching drunk; one of those who run renegade and homeless between +worlds, belonging to neither. This was what I had nearly become. + +I went further up the hill with the rising streets. Once I turned, and +saw below me the bright-lighted spaceport, the black many-windowed loom +of the skyscraper like a patch of alien shadow in the red-violet +moonlight. I turned my back on them and walked on. + +At the fringe of the thieves market I paused outside a wineshop where +Dry-towners were made welcome. A golden nonhuman child murmured +something as she pattered by me in the street, and I stopped, gripped by +a spasm of stagefright. Had the dialect of Shainsa grown rusty on my +tongue? Spies were given short shrift on Wolf, and a mile from the +spaceport, I might as well have been on one of those moons. There were +no spaceport shockers at my back now. And someone might remember the +tale of an Earthman with a scarred face who had gone to Shainsa in +disguise.... + +I shrugged the shirtcloak around my shoulders, pushed the door and went +in. I had remembered that Rakhal was waiting for me. Not beyond this +door, but at the end of the trail, behind some other door, somewhere. +And we have a byword in Shainsa: _A trail without beginning has no end_. + +Right there I stopped thinking about Juli, Rindy, the Terran Empire, or +what Rakhal, who knew too many of Terra's secrets, might do if he had +turned renegade. My fingers went up and stroked, musingly, the ridge of +scar tissue along my mouth. At that moment I was thinking only of +Rakhal, of an unsettled blood-feud, and of my revenge. + +Red lamps were burning inside the wineshop, where men reclined on frowsy +couches. I stumbled over one of them, found an empty place and let +myself sink down on it, arranging myself automatically in the sprawl of +Dry-towners indoors. In public they stood, rigid and formal, even to eat +and drink. Among themselves, anything less than a loose-limbed sprawl +betrayed insulting watchfulness; only a man who fears secret murder +keeps himself on guard. + +A girl with a tangled rope of hair down her back came toward me. Her +hands were unchained, meaning she was a woman of the lowest class, not +worth safeguarding. Her fur smock was shabby and matted with filth. I +sent her for wine. When it came it was surprisingly good, the sweet and +treacherous wine of Ardcarran. I sipped it slowly, looking round. + +If a caravan for Shainsa were leaving tomorrow, it would be known here. +A word dropped that I was returning there would bring me, by ironbound +custom, an invitation to travel in their company. + +When I sent the woman for wine a second time, a man on a nearby couch +got up, and walked over to me. + +He was tall even for a Dry-towner, and there was something vaguely +familiar about him. He was no riffraff of the Kharsa, either, for his +shirtcloak was of rich silk interwoven with metallic threads, and +crusted with heavy embroideries. The hilt of his skean was carved from a +single green gem. He stood looking down at me for some time before he +spoke. + +"I never forget a voice, although I cannot bring your face to mind. Have +I a duty toward you?" + +I had spoken a jargon to the girl, but he addressed me in the lilting, +sing-song speech of Shainsa. I made no answer, gesturing him to be +seated. On Wolf, formal courtesy requires a series of polite _non +sequiturs_, and while a direct question merely borders on rudeness, a +direct answer is the mark of a simpleton. + +"A drink?" + +"I joined you unasked," he retorted, and summoned the tangle-headed +girl. "Bring us better wine than this swill!" + +With that word and gesture I recognized him and my teeth clamped hard on +my lip. This was the loudmouth who had shown fight in the spaceport +cafe, and run away before the dark girl with the sign of Nebran sprawled +on her breast. + +But in this poor light he had not recognized me. I moved deliberately +into the full red glow. If he did not know me for the Terran he had +challenged last night in the spaceport cafe, it was unlikely that anyone +else would. He stared at me for some minutes, but in the end he only +shrugged and poured wine from the bottle he had ordered. + +Three drinks later I knew that his name was Kyral and that he was a +trader in wire and fine steel tools through the nonhuman towns. And I +had given him the name I had chosen, Rascar. + +He asked, "Are you thinking of returning to Shainsa?" + +Wary of a trap, I hesitated, but the question seemed harmless, so I only +countered, "Have you been long in the Kharsa?" + +"Several weeks." + +"Trading?" + +"No." He applied himself to the wine again. "I was searching for a +member of my family." + +"Did you find him?" + +"Her," said Kyral, and ceremoniously spat. "No, I didn't find her. What +is your business in Shainsa?" + +I chuckled briefly. "As a matter of fact, I am searching for a member of +my family." + +He narrowed his eyelids as if he suspected me of mocking him, but +personal privacy is the most rigid convention of the Dry-towns and such +mockery showed a sensible disregard for prying questions if I did not +choose to answer them. He questioned no further. + +"I can use an extra man to handle the loads. Are you good with pack +animals? If so, you are welcome to travel under the protection of my +caravan." + +I agreed. Then, reflecting that Juli and Rakhal must, after all, be +known in Shainsa, I asked, "Do you know a trader who calls himself +Sensar?" + +He started slightly; I saw his eyes move along my scars. Then reserve, +like a lowered curtain, shut itself over his face, concealing a brief +satisfied glimmer. "No," he lied, and stood up. + +"We leave at first daylight. Have your gear ready." He flipped something +at me, and I caught it in midair. It was a stone incised with Kyral's +name in the ideographs of Shainsa. "You can sleep with the caravan if +you care to. Show that token to Cuinn." + + * * * * * + +Kyral's caravan was encamped in a barred field past the furthest gates +of the Kharsa. About a dozen men were busy loading the pack +animals--horses shipped in from Darkover, mostly. I asked the first man +I met for Cuinn. He pointed out a burly fellow in a shiny red +shirtcloak, who was busy at chewing out one of the young men for the way +he'd put a packsaddle on his beast. + +Shainsa is a good language for cursing, but Cuinn had a special talent +at it. I blinked in admiration while I waited for him to get his breath +so I could hand him Kyral's token. + +In the light of the fire I saw what I'd half expected: he was the second +of the Dry-towners who'd tried to rough me up in the spaceport cafe. +Cuinn barely glanced at the cut stone and tossed it back, pointing out +one of the packhorses. "Load your personal gear on that one, then get +busy and show this mush-headed wearer of sandals"--an insult carrying +particularly filthy implications in Shainsa--"how to fasten a +packstrap." + +He drew breath and began to swear at the luckless youngster again, and I +relaxed. He evidently hadn't recognized me, either. I took the strap in +my hand, guiding it through the saddle loop. "Like that," I told the +kid, and Cuinn stopped swearing long enough to give me a curt nod of +acknowledgment and point out a heap of boxed and crated objects. + +"Help him load up. We want to get clear of the city by daybreak," he +ordered, and went off to swear at someone else. + +Kyral turned up at dawn, and a few minutes later the camp had vanished +into a small scattering of litter and we were on our way. + +Kyral's caravan, in spite of Cuinn's cursing, was well-managed and +well-handled. The men were Dry-towners, eleven of them, silent and +capable and most of them very young. They were cheerful on the trail, +handled the pack animals competently, during the day, and spent most of +the nights grouped around the fire, gambling silently on the fall of the +cut-crystal prisms they used for dice. + +Three days out of the Kharsa I began to worry about Cuinn. + +It was of course a spectacular piece of bad luck to find all three of +the men from the spaceport cafe in Kyral's caravan. Kyral had obviously +not known me, and even by daylight he paid no attention to me except to +give an occasional order. The second of the three was a gangling kid who +probably never gave me a second look, let alone a third. + +But Cuinn was another matter. He was a man my own age, and his fierce +eyes had a shrewdness in them that I did not trust. More than once I +caught him watching me, and on the two or three occasions when he drew +me into conversation, I found his questions more direct than Dry-town +good manners allowed. I weighed the possibility that I might have to +kill him before we reached Shainsa. + +We crossed the foothills and began to climb upward toward the mountains. +The first few days I found myself short of breath as we worked upward +into thinner air, then my acclimatization returned and I began to fall +into the pattern of the days and nights on the trail. The Trade City +was still a beacon in the night, but its glow on the horizon grew dimmer +with each day's march. + +Higher we climbed, along dangerous trails where men had to dismount and +let the pack animals pick their way, foot by foot. Here in these +altitudes the sun at noonday blazed redder and brighter, and the +Dry-towners, who come from the parched lands in the sea-bottoms, were +burned and blistered by the fierce light. I had grown up under the +blazing sun of Terra, and a red sun like Wolf, even at its hottest, +caused me no discomfort. This alone would have made me suspect. Once +again I found Cuinn's fierce eyes watching me. + +As we crossed the passes and began to descend the long trail through the +thick forests, we got into nonhuman country. Racing against the Ghost +Wind, we skirted the country around Charin, and the woods inhabited by +the terrible Ya-men, birdlike creatures who turn cannibal when the Ghost +Wind blows. + +Later the trail wound through thicker forests of indigo trees and +grayish-purple brushwood, and at night we heard the howls of the catmen +of these latitudes. At night we set guards about the caravan, and the +dark spaces and shadows were filled with noises and queer smells and +rustlings. + +Nevertheless, the day's marches and the night watches passed without +event until the night I shared guard with Cuinn. I had posted myself at +the edge of the camp, the fire behind me. The men were sleeping rolls of +snores, huddled close around the fire. The animals, hobbled with double +ropes, front feet to hind feet, shifted uneasily and let out long +uncanny whines. + +I heard Cuinn pacing behind me. I heard a rustle at the edge of the +forest, a stir and whisper beyond the trees, and turned to speak to him, +then saw him slipping away toward the outskirts of the clearing. + +For a moment I thought nothing of it, thinking that he was taking a few +steps toward the gap in the trees where he had disappeared. I suppose I +had the idea that he had slipped away to investigate some noise or +shadow, and that I should be at hand. + +Then I saw the flicker of lights beyond the trees--light from the +lantern Cuinn had been carrying in his hand! He was signaling! + +I slipped the safety clasp from the hilt of my skean and went after him. +In the dimming glow of the fire I fancied I saw luminous eyes watching +me, and the skin on my back crawled. I crept up behind him and leaped. +We went down in a tangle of flailing legs and arms, and in less than a +second he had his skean out and I was gripping his wrist, trying +desperately to force the blade away from my throat. + +I gasped, "Don't be a fool! One yell and the whole camp will be awake! +Who were you signaling?" + +In the light of the fallen lantern, lips drawn back in a snarl, he +looked almost inhuman. He strained at the knife for a moment, then +dropped it. "Let me up," he said. + +I got up and kicked the fallen skean toward him. "Put that away. What in +hell were you doing, trying to bring the catmen down on us?" + +For a moment he looked taken aback, then his fierce face closed down +again and he said wrathfully, "Can't a man walk away from the camp +without being half strangled?" + +I glared at him, but realized I really had nothing to go by. He might +have been answering a call of nature, and the movement of the lantern +accidental. And if someone had jumped me from behind, I might have +pulled a knife on him myself. So I only said, "Don't do it again. We're +all too jumpy." + +There were no other incidents that night, or the next. The night after, +while I lay huddled in my shirtcloak and blanket by the fire, I saw +Cuinn slip out of his bedroll and steal away. A moment later there was a +gleam in the darkness, but before I could summon the resolve to get up +and face it out with him, he returned, looked cautiously at the snoring +men, and crawled back into his blankets. + +While we were unpacking at the next camp, Kyral halted beside me. "Heard +anything queer lately? I've got the notion we're being trailed. We'll be +out of these forests tomorrow, and after that it's clear road all the +way to Shainsa. If anything's going to happen, it will happen tonight." + +I debated speaking to him about Cuinn's signals. No, I had my own +business waiting for me in Shainsa. Why mix myself up in some other, +private intrigue? + +He said, "I'm putting you and Cuinn on watch again. The old men doze +off, and the young fellows get to daydreaming or fooling around. That's +all right most of the time, but I want someone who'll keep his eyes open +tonight. Did you ever know Cuinn before this?" + +"Never set eyes on him." + +"Funny, I had the notion--" He shrugged, turned away, then stopped. + +"Don't think twice about rousing the camp if there's any disturbance. +Better a false alarm than an ambush that catches us all in our blankets. +If it came to a fight, we might be in a bad way. We all carry skeans, +but I don't think there's a shocker in the whole camp, let alone a gun. +You don't have one by any chance?" + +After the men had turned in, Cuinn patrolling the camp, halted a minute +beside me and cocked his head toward the rustling forest. + +"What's going on in there?" + +"Who knows? Catmen on the prowl, probably, thinking the horses would +make a good meal, or maybe that we would." + +"Think it will come to a fight?" + +"I wouldn't know." + +He surveyed me for a moment without speaking. "And if it did?" + +"We'd fight." Then I sucked in my breath, for Cuinn had spoken Terran +Standard, and I, without thinking had answered in the same language. He +grinned, showing white teeth filed to a point. + +"I thought so!" + +I seized his shoulder and demanded roughly, "And what are you going to +do about it?" + +"That depends on you," he answered, "and what you want in Shainsa. Tell +me the truth. What were you doing in the Terran Zone?" He gave me no +chance to answer. "You know who Kyral is, don't you?" + +"A trader," I said, "who pays my wages and minds his own affairs." I +moved backward, hand on my skean, braced for a sudden rush. He made no +aggressive motion, however. + +"Kyral told me you'd been asking questions about Rakhal Sensar," he +said. "Clever. Now I, for one, could have told you he'd never set eyes +on Rakhal. I--" + +He broke off, hearing a noise in the forest, a long eerie howl. I +muttered, "If you've brought them down on us--" + +He shook his head urgently. "I had to take that chance, to get word to +the others. It won't work. Where's the girl?" + +I hardly heard him. I was hearing twigs snap, and silent sneaking feet. +I turned for a yell that would rouse the camp and Cuinn grabbed me hard, +saying insistently, "Quick! Where's the girl! Go back and tell her it +won't work! If Kyral suspected--" + +He never finished the sentence. Just behind us came another of the long +eerie howls. I knocked Cuinn away, and suddenly the night was filled +with crouching forms that came down on us like a whirlwind. + +I shouted madly as the camp came alive with men struggling out of +blankets, fighting for life itself. I ran hard, still shouting, for the +enclosure where we had tied the horses. A catman, slim and black-furred, +was crouched and cutting the hobble-strings of the nearest animal. I +hurled myself on him. He exploded, clawing, raking my shoulder with +talons that ripped the rough cloth like paper. I whipped out my skean +and slashed upward. The talons contracted in my shoulder and I gasped +with pain. Then the thing howled and fell away, clawing at the air. It +twitched and lay still. + +Four shots in rapid succession cracked in the clearing. Kyral to the +contrary, someone must have had a pistol. I heard one of the cat-things +wail, a hoarse dying rattle. Something dark clawed my arm and I slashed +with the knife, going down as another set of talons fastened in my back, +rolling and clutching. + +I managed to get the thing's forelimbs wedged under my elbow, my knee in +its spine. I heaved, bent it backward, backward till it screamed, a high +wail. + +Then I felt the spine snap and the dead thing mewled once, just air +escaping from collapsing lungs, and slid limp from my thigh. Erect it +had not been over four feet tall and in the light of the dying fire it +might have been a dead lynx. + +"Rascar...." I heard a gasp, a groan. I whirled and saw Kyral go down, +struggling, drowning in half a dozen or more of the fierce half-humans. +I leaped at the smother of bodies, ripped one away with a stranglehold, +slashed at its throat. + +They were easy to kill. + +I heard a high, urgent scream in their mewing tongue. Then the furred +black things seemed to melt into the forest as silently as they had +come. Kyral, dazed, his forehead running blood, his arm slashed to the +bone, was sitting on the ground, still stunned. + +Somebody had to take charge. I bellowed, "Lights! Get lights. They won't +come back if we have enough light, they can only see well in the dark." + +Someone stirred the fire. It blazed up as they piled on dead branches, +and I roughly commanded one of the kids to fill every lantern he could +find, and get them burning. Four of the dead things were lying in the +clearing. The youngster I'd helped loading horses, the first day, gazed +down at one of the catmen, half-disemboweled by somebody's skean, and +suddenly bolted for the bushes, where I heard him retching. + +I set the others with stronger stomachs to dragging the bodies away from +the clearing, and went back to see how badly Kyral was hurt. He had the +rip in his arm and his face was covered with blood from a shallow scalp +wound, but he insisted on getting up to inspect the hurts of the others. + +There was no one without a claw-wound in leg or back or shoulder, but +none were serious, and we were all feeling fairly cheerful when someone +demanded, "Where's Cuinn?" + +He didn't seem to be anywhere. Kyral, staggering slightly, insisted on +searching, but I felt we wouldn't find him. "He probably went off with +his friends," I snorted, and told about the signaling. Kyral looked +grave. + +"You should have told me," he began, but shouts from the far end of the +clearing sent us racing there. We nearly stumbled over a single, +solitary, motionless form, outstretched and lifeless, blind eyes staring +upward at the moons. + +It was Cuinn. And his throat had been torn completely out. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +Once we were free of the forest, the road to the Dry-towns lay straight +before us, with no hidden dangers. Some of us limped for a day or two, +or favored an arm or leg clawed by the catmen, but I knew that what +Kyral said was true; it was a lucky caravan which had to fight off only +one attack. + +Cuinn haunted me. A night or two of turning over his cryptic words in my +mind had convinced me that whoever, or whatever he'd been signaling, it +wasn't the catmen. And his urgent question "Where's the girl?" swam +endlessly in my brain, making no more sense than when I had first heard +it. Who had he mistaken me for? What did he think I was mixed up in? And +who, above all, were the "others" who had to be signaled, at the risk of +an attack by catmen which had meant his own death? + +With Cuinn dead, and Kyral thinking I'd saved his life, a large part of +the responsibility for the caravan now fell on me. And strangely I +enjoyed it, making the most of this interval when I was separated from +the thought of blood-feud or revenge, the need of spying or the threat +of exposure. During those days and nights on the trail I grew back +slowly into the Dry-towner I once had been. I knew I would be sorry when +the walls of Shainsa rose on the horizon, bringing me back inescapably +to my own quest. + +We swung wide, leaving the straight trail to Shainsa, and Kyral +announced his intention of stopping for half a day at Canarsa, one of +the walled nonhuman cities which lay well off the traveled road. To my +inadvertent show of surprise, he returned that he had trading +connections there. + +"We all need a day's rest, and the Silent Ones will buy from me, though +they have few dealings with men. Look here, I owe you something. You +have lenses? You can get a better price in Canarsa than you'd get in +Ardcarran or Shainsa. Come along with me, and I'll vouch for you." + +Kyral had been most friendly since the night I had dug him out from +under the catmen, and I knew no way to refuse without exposing myself +for the sham trader I was. But I was deathly apprehensive. Even with +Rakhal I had never entered any of the nonhuman towns. + +On Wolf, human and nonhuman have lived side by side for centuries. And +the human is not always the superior being. I might pass, among the +Dry-towners and the relatively stupid humanoid _chaks_, for another +Dry-towner. But Rakhal had cautioned me I could not pass among nonhumans +for native Wolfan, and warned me against trying. + +Nevertheless, I accompanied Kyral, carrying the box which had cost about +a week's pay in the Terran Zone and was worth a small fortune in the +Dry-towns. + +Canarsa seemed, inside the gates, like any other town. The houses were +round, beehive fashion, and the streets totally empty. Just inside the +gates a hooded figure greeted us, and gestured us by signs to follow +him. He was covered from head to foot with some coarse and shiny fiber +woven into stuff that looked like sacking. + +But under the thick hooding was horror. It slithered and it had nothing +like a recognizable human shape or walk, and I felt the primeval ape in +me cowering and gibbering in a corner of my brain. Kyral muttered, close +to my ear, "No outsider is ever allowed to look on the Silent Ones in +their real form. I think they're deaf and dumb, but be damn careful." + +"You bet," I whispered, and was glad the streets were empty. I walked +along, trying not to look at the gliding motion of that shrouded thing +up ahead. + +The trading was done in an open hut of reeds which looked as if it had +been built in a hurry, and was not square, round, hexagonal or any other +recognizable geometrical shape. It formed a pattern of its own, +presumably, but my human eyes couldn't see it. Kyral said in a breath of +a whisper, "They'll tear it down and burn it after we leave. We're +supposed to have contaminated it too greatly for any of the Silent Ones +ever to enter again. My family has traded with them for centuries, and +we're almost the only ones who have ever entered the city." + +Then two of the Silent Ones of Canarsa, also covered with that coarse +shiny stuff, slithered into the hut, and Kyral choked off his words as +if he had swallowed them. + +It was the strangest trading I had ever done. Kyral laid out the small +forged-steel tools and the coils of thin fine wire, and I unpacked my +lenses and laid them out in neat rows. The Silent Ones neither spoke nor +moved, but through a thin place in the gray veiling I saw a speck which +might have been a phosphorescent eye, moving back and forth as if +scanning the things laid out for their inspection. + +Then I smothered a gasp, for suddenly blank spaces appeared in the rows +of merchandise. Certain small tools--wirecutters, calipers, surgical +scissors--had vanished, and all the coils of wire had disappeared. +Blanks equally had appeared in the rows of lenses; all of my tiny, +powerful microscope lenses had vanished. I cast a quick glance at Kyral, +but he seemed unsurprised. I recalled vague rumors of the Silent Ones, +and concluded that, eerie though it seemed, this was merely their way of +doing business. + +Kyral pointed at one of the tools, at an exceptionally fine pair of +binocular lenses, at the last of the coils of wire. The shrouded ones +did not move, but the lenses and the wire vanished. The small tool +remained, and after a moment Kyral dropped his hand. + +I took my cue from Kyral and remained motionless, awaiting whatever +surprise was coming. I had halfway expected what happened next. In the +blank spaces, little points of light began to glimmer, and after a +moment, blue and red and green gem-stones appeared there. To me the +substitution appeared roughly equitable and fair, though I am no judge +of the fine points of gems. + +Kyral scowled slightly and pointed to one of the green gems, and after a +moment it whisked away and a blue one took its place. In another spot +where a fine set of surgical instruments had lain, Kyral pointed at the +blue gem which now lay there, shook his head and held out three fingers. +After a moment, a second blue stone lay winking beside the first. + +Kyral did not move, but inexorably held out the three fingers. There was +a little swirling in the air, and then both gems vanished, and the case +of surgical instruments lay in their place. + +Still Kyral did not move, but held the three fingers out for a full +minute. Finally he dropped them and bent to pick up the case +instruments. Again the little swirl in the air, and the instruments +vanished. In their place lay three of the blue gems. My mouth twitched +in the first amusement I had felt since we entered this uncanny place. +Evidently bargaining with the Silent Ones was not a great deal different +than bargaining with anyone anywhere. Nevertheless, under the eyes of +those shrouded but horrible forms--if they had eyes, which I doubted--I +had no impulse to protest their offered prices. + +I gathered up the rejected lenses, repacked them neatly, and helped +Kyral recrate the tools and instruments the Silent Ones had not wanted. +I noticed that in addition to the microscope lenses and surgical +instruments, they had taken all the fine wire. I couldn't imagine, and +didn't particularly want to imagine, what they intended to do with it. + +On our way back through the streets, unshepherded this time, Kyral's +tongue was loosened as if with a great release from tension. "They're +psychokinetics," he told me. "Quite a few of the nonhuman races are. I +guess they have to be, having no eyes and no hands. But sometimes I +wonder if we of the Dry-towns ought to deal with them at all." + +"What do you mean?" I asked, not really listening. I was thinking mostly +about the way the small objects had melted away and reappeared. The +sight had stirred some uncomfortable memory, a vague sense of danger. It +was not tangible enough for me to know why I feared it, but just a +subliminal uneasiness that kept prodding at me, like a tooth that isn't +quite aching yet. + +Kyral said, "We of Shainsa live between fire and flood. Terra on the one +hand, and on the other maybe something worse, who knows? We know so +little about the Silent Ones, and those like them. Who knows, maybe +we're giving them the weapons to destroy us--" He broke off, with a +gasp, and stood staring down one of the streets. + +It lay open and bare between two rows of round houses, and Kyral was +staring fixedly at a doorway which had opened there. I followed his +paralyzed gaze, and saw the girl. + +Hair like spun black glass fell in hard waves around her shoulders, and +the red eyes smiled with alien malice, alien mischief, beneath the dark +crown of little stars. And the Toad God sprawled in hideous +embroideries across the white folds of her breast. + +Kyral gulped hoarsely. His hand flew up as he clutched the charms strung +about his neck. I imitated the gesture mechanically, watching Kyral, +wondering if he would turn and run again. But he stood frozen for a +minute. Then the spell broke and he took one step toward the girl, arms +outstretched. + +"Miellyn!" he cried, and there was heartbreak in his voice. And again, +the cry making ringing echoes in the strange street: + +"Miellyn! _Miellyn!_" + +This time it was the girl who whirled and fled. Her white robes +fluttered and I saw the twinkle of her flying feet as she vanished into +a space between the houses and was gone. + +Kyral took one blind step down the street, then another. But before he +could burst into a run I had him by the arm, dragging him back to +sanity. + +"Man, you've gone mad! Chase, in a nonhuman town?" + +He struggled for a minute, then, with a harsh sigh, he said, "It's all +right, I won't--" and shook loose from my arm. + +He did not speak again until we reached the gates of Canarsa and they +closed, silently and untouched, behind us. I had forgotten the place +already. I had space only to think of the girl, whose face I had not +forgotten since the moment when she saved me and disappeared. Now she +had appeared again to Kyral. What did it all mean? + +I asked, as we walked toward the camp, "Do you know that girl?" But I +knew the question was futile. Kyral's face was closed, conceding +nothing, and his friendliness had vanished completely. + +He said, "Now I know you. You saved me from the catmen, and again in +Canarsa, so my hands are bound from harming you. But it is evil to have +dealings with those who have been touched by the Toad God." He spat +noisily on the ground, looked at me with loathing, and said, "We will +reach Shainsa in three days. Stay away from me." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +Shainsa, first in the chain of Dry-towns that lie in the bed of a +long-dried ocean, is set at the center of a great alkali plain; a dusty, +parched city bleached by a million years of sun. The houses are high, +spreading buildings with many rooms and wide windows. The poorer sort +were made of sun-dried brick, the more imposing being cut from the +bleached salt stone of the cliffs that rise behind the city. + +News travels fast in the Dry-towns. If Rakhal were in the city, he'd +soon know that I was here, and guess who I was or why I'd come. I might +disguise myself so that my own sister, or the mother who bore me, would +not know me. But I had no illusions about my ability to disguise myself +from Rakhal. He had created the disguise that was me. + +When the second sun set, red and burning, behind the salt cliffs, I knew +he was not in Shainsa, but I stayed on, waiting for something to happen. +At night I slept in a cubbyhole behind a wineshop, paying an inordinate +price for that very dubious privilege. And every day in the sleepy +silence of the blood-red noon I paced the public square of Shainsa. + +This went on for four days. No one took the slightest notice of another +nameless man in a shabby shirtcloak, without name or identity or known +business. No one appeared to see me except the dusty children, with pale +fleecy hair, who played their patient games on the windswept curbing of +the square. They surveyed my scarred face with neither curiosity or +fear, and it occurred to me that Rindy might be such another as these. + +If I had still been thinking like an Earthman, I might have tried to +question one of the children, or win their confidence. But I had a +deeper game in hand. + +On the fifth day I was so much a fixture that my pacing went unnoticed +even by the children. On the gray moss of the square, a few +dried-looking old men, their faces as faded as their shirtcloaks and +bearing the knife scars of a hundred forgotten fights, drowsed on the +stone benches. And along the flagged walk at the edge of the square, as +suddenly as an autumn storm in the salt flats, a woman came walking. + +She was tall, with a proud swinging walk, and a metallic clashing kept +rhythm to her swift steps. Her arms were fettered, each wrist bound with +a jeweled bracelet and the bracelets linked together by a long, +silver-gilt chain passed through a silken loop at her waist. From the +loop swung a tiny golden padlock, but in the lock stood an even tinier +key, signifying that she was a higher caste than her husband or consort, +that her fettering was by choice and not command. + +She stopped directly before me and raised her arm in formal greeting +like a man. The chain made a tinkling sound in the hushed square as her +other hand was pulled up tight against the silken loop at her waist. She +stood surveying me for some moments, and finally I raised my head and +returned her gaze. I don't know why I had expected her to have hair like +spun black glass and eyes that burned with a red reflection of the +burning star. + +This woman's eyes were darker than the poison-berries of the salt +cliffs, and her mouth was a cut berry that looked just as dangerous. She +was young, the slimness of her shoulders and the narrow steel-chained +wrists told me how very young she was, but her face had seen weather and +storms, and her dark eyes had weathered worse psychic storms than that. +She did not flinch at the sight of my scars, and met my gaze without +dropping her eyes. + +"You are a stranger. What is your business in Shainsa?" + +I met the direct question with the insolence it demanded, hardly moving +my lips. "I have come to buy women for the brothels of Ardcarran. +Perhaps when washed you might be suitable. Who could arrange for your +sale?" + +She took the rebuke impassively, though the bitter crimson of her mouth +twitched a little in mischief or rage. But she made no sign. The battle +was joined between us, and I knew already that it would be fought to the +end. + +From somewhere in her draperies, something fell to the ground with a +little tinkle. But I knew that trick too and I did not move. Finally she +went away without bending to retrieve it and when I looked around I saw +that all the fleece-haired children had stolen away, leaving their +playthings lying on the curbing. But one or two of the gaffers on the +stone benches, who were old enough to show curiosity without losing +face, were watching me with impassive eyes. + +I could have asked the woman's name then, but I held back, knowing it +could only lessen the prestige I had gained from the encounter. I +glanced down, without seeming to do so, at the tiny mirror which had +fallen from the recesses of the fur robe. Her name might have been +inscribed on the reverse. + +But I left it lying there to be picked up by the children when they +returned, and went back to the wineshop. I had accomplished my first +objective; if you can't be inconspicuous, be so damned conspicuous that +nobody can miss you. And that in itself is a fair concealment. How many +people can accurately describe a street riot? + +I was finishing off a bad meal with a stone bottle of worse wine when +the _chak_ came in, disregarding the proprietor, and made straight for +me. He was furred immaculately white. His velvet muzzle was contracted +as if the very smells might soil it, and he kept a dainty paw +outstretched to ward off accidental contact with greasy counters or +tables or tapestries. His fur was scented, and his throat circled with a +collar of embroidered silk. This pampered minion surveyed me with the +innocent malice of an uninvolved nonhuman for merely human intrigues. + +"You are wanted in the Great House of Shanitha, thcarred man." He spoke +the Shainsa dialect with an affected lisp. "Will it pleathe you, come +wis' me?" + +I came, with no more than polite protest, but was startled. I had not +expected the encounter to reach the Great House so soon. Shainsa's Great +House had changed hands four times since I had last been in Shainsa. I +wasn't overly anxious to appear there. + +The white _chak_, as out of place in the rough Dry-town as a jewel in +the streets or a raindrop in the desert, led me along a winding +boulevard to an outlying district. He made no attempt to engage me in +conversation, and indeed I got the distinct impression that this +cockscomb of a nonhuman considered me well beneath his notice. He seemed +much more aware of the blowing dust in the street, which ruffled and +smudged his carefully combed fur. + +The Great House was carved from blocks of rough pink basalt, the entry +guarded by two great caryatids enwrapped in chains of carved metal, set +somehow into the surface of the basalt. The gilt had long ago worn away +from the chains so that it alternately gleamed gold or smudged base +metal. The caryatids were patient and blind, their jewel-eyes long +vanished under a hotter sun than today's. + +The entrance hall was enormous. A Terran starship could have stood +upright inside it, was my first impression, but I dismissed that thought +quickly; any Terran thought was apt to betray me. But the main hall was +built on a scale even more huge, and it was even colder than the +legendary hell of the _chaks_. It was far too big for the people in it. + +There was a little solar heater in the ceiling, but it didn't help much. +A dim glow came from a metal brazier but that didn't help much either. +The _chak_ melted into the shadows, and I went down the steps into the +hall by myself, feeling carefully for each step with my feet and trying +not to seem to be doing so. My comparative night-blindness is the only +significant way in which I really differ from a native Wolfan. + +There were three men, two women and a child in the room. They were all +Dry-towners and had an obscure family likeness, and they all wore rich +garments of fur dyed in many colors. One of the men, old and stooped and +withered, was doing something to the brazier. A slim boy of fourteen was +sitting cross-legged on a pile of cushions in the corner. There was +something wrong with his legs. + +A girl of ten in a too-short smock that showed long spider-thin legs +above her low leather boots was playing with some sort of shimmery +crystals, spilling them out into patterns and scooping them up again +from the uneven stones of the floor. One of the women was a fat, creased +slattern, whose jewels and dyed furs did not disguise her greasy +slovenliness. + +Her hands were unchained, and she was biting into a fruit which dripped +red juice down the rich blue fur of her robe. The old man gave her a +look like murder as I came in, and she straightened slightly but did not +discard the fruit. The whole room had a curious look of austere, +dignified poverty, to which the fat woman was the only discordant note. + +But it was the remaining man and woman who drew my attention, so that I +noticed the others only peripherally, in their outermost orbit. One was +Kyral, standing at the foot of the dais and glowering at me. + +The other was the dark-eyed woman I had rebuked today in the public +square. + +Kyral said, "So it's you." And his voice held nothing. Not rebuke, not +friendliness or a lack of it, not even hatred. + +Nothing. + +There was only one way to meet it. I faced the girl--she was sitting on +a thronelike chair next to the fat woman, and looked like a doe next to +a pig--and said boldly, "I assume this summons to mean that you informed +your kinsmen of my offer." + +She flushed, and that was triumph enough. I held back the triumph, +however, wary of overconfidence. The gaffer laughed the high cackle of +age, and Kyral broke in with a sharp, angry monosyllable by which I knew +that my remark had indeed been repeated, and had lost nothing in the +telling. But only the line of his jaw betrayed the anger as he said +calmly, "Be quiet, Dallisa. Where did you pick this up?" + +I said boldly, "The Great House has changed rulers since last I smelled +the salt cliffs. Newcomers do not know my name and theirs is unknown to +me." + +The old gaffer said thinly to Kyral, "Our name has lost _kihar_. One +daughter is lured away by the Toymaker and another babbles with +strangers in the square, and a homeless no-good of the streets does not +know our name." + +My eyes, growing accustomed to the dark blaze of the brazier, saw that +Kyral was biting his lip and scowling. Then he gestured to a table where +an array of glassware was set, and at the gesture, the white _chak_ came +on noiseless feet and poured wine. + +"If you have no blood-feud with my family, will you drink with me?" + +"I will," I said, relaxing. Even if he had associated the trader with +the scarred Earthman of the spaceport, he seemed to have decided to drop +the matter. He seemed startled, but he waited until I had lifted the +glass and taken a sip. Then, with a movement like lightning, he leaped +from the dais and struck the glass from my lips. + +I staggered back, wiping my cut mouth, in a split-second juggling +possibilities. The insult was terrible and deadly. I could do nothing +now but fight. Men had been murdered in Shainsa for far less. I had come +to settle one feud, not involve myself in another, but even while these +lightning thoughts flickered in my mind, I had whipped out my skean and +I was surprised at the shrillness of my own voice. + +"You contrive offense beneath your own roof--" + +"Spy and renegade!" Kyral thundered. He did not touch his skean. From +the table he caught a long four-thonged whip, making it whistle through +the air. The long-legged child scuttled backward. I stepped back one +pace, trying to conceal my desperate puzzlement. I could not guess what +had prompted Kyral's attack, but whatever it was, I must have made some +bad mistake and could count myself lucky to get out of there alive. + +Kyral's voice perceptibly trembled with rage. "You dare to come into my +own home after I have tracked you to the Kharsa and back, blind fool +that I was! But now you shall pay." + +The whip sang through the air, hissing past my shoulders. I dodged to +one side, retreating step by step as Kyral swung the powerful thongs. It +cracked again, and a pain like the burning of red-hot irons seared my +upper arm. My skean rattled down from numb fingers. + +The whip whacked the floor. + +"Pick up your skean," said Kyral. "Pick it up if you dare." He poised +the lash again. + +The fat woman screamed. + +I stood rigid, gauging my chances of disarming him with a sudden leap. +Suddenly the girl Dallisa leaped from her seat with a harsh musical +chiming of chains. + +"Kyral, no! No, Kyral!" + +He moved slightly, but did not take his eyes from me. "Get back, +Dallisa." + +"No! Wait!" She ran to him and caught his whip-arm, dragging it down, +and spoke to him hurriedly and urgently. Kyral's face changed as she +spoke; he drew a long breath and threw the whip down beside my skean on +the floor. + +"Answer straight, on your life. What are you doing in Shainsa?" + +I could hardly take it in that for the moment I was reprieved from +sudden death, from being beaten into bloody death there at Kyral's feet. +The girl went back to her thronelike chair. Now I must either tell the +truth or a convincing lie, and I was lost in a game where I didn't know +the rules. The explanation I thought might get me out alive might be the +very one which would bring down instant and painful death. Suddenly, +with a poignancy that was almost pain, I wished Rakhal were standing +here at my side. + +But I had to bluff it out alone. + +If they had recognized me for Race Cargill, the Terran spy who had often +been in Shainsa, they might release me--it was possible, I supposed, +that they were Terran sympathizers. On the other hand, Kyral's shouts of +"Spy, renegade!" seemed to suggest the opposite. + +I stood trying to ignore the searing pain in my lashed arm, but I knew +that blood was running hot down my shoulder. Finally I said, "I came to +settle blood-feud." + +Kyral's lips thinned in what might have been meant for a smile. "You +shall, assuredly. But with whom, remains to be seen." + +Knowing I had nothing more to lose, I said, "With a renegade called +Rakhal Sensar." + +Only the old man echoed my words dully, "Rakhal Sensar?" + +I felt heartened, seeing I wasn't dead yet. + +"I have sworn to kill him." + +Kyral suddenly clapped his hands and shouted to the white _chak_ to +clean up the broken glass on the floor. He said huskily, "You are not +yourself Rakhal Sensar?" + +"I _told_ you he wasn't," said Dallisa, high and hysterically. "I _told_ +you he wasn't." + +"A scarred man, tall--what was I to think?" Kyral sounded and looked +badly shaken. He filled a glass himself and handed it to me, saying +hoarsely, "I did not believe even the renegade Rakhal would break the +code so far as to drink with me." + +"He would not." I could be positive about this. The codes of Terra had +made some superficial impress on Rakhal, but down deep his own world +held sway. If these men were at blood-feud with Rakhal and he stood here +where I stood, he would have let himself be beaten into bloody rags +before tasting their wine. + +I took the glass, raised it and drained it. Then, holding it out before +me, I said, "Rakhal's life is mine. But I swear by the red star and by +the unmoving mountains, by the black snow and by the Ghost Wind, I have +no quarrel with any beneath this roof." I cast the glass to the floor, +where it shattered on the stones. + +Kyral hesitated, but under the blazing eyes of the girl he quickly +poured himself a glass of the wine and drank a few sips, then flung down +the glass. He stepped forward and laid his hands on my shoulders. I +winced as he touched the welt of the lash and could not raise my own arm +to complete the ceremonial toast. + +Kyral stepped away and shrugged. "Shall I have one of the women see to +your hurt?" He looked at Dallisa, but she twisted her mouth. "Do it +yourself!" + +"It is nothing," I said, not truthfully. "But I demand in requital that +since we are bound by spilled blood under your roof, that you give me +what news you have of Rakhal, the spy and renegade." + +Kyral said fiercely, "If I knew, would I be under my own roof?" + +The old gaffer on the dais broke into shrill whining laughter. "You have +drunk wi' him, Kyral, now he's bound you not to do him harm! I know the +story of Rakhal! He was spy for Terra twelve years. Twelve years, and +then he fought and flung their filthy money in their faces and left 'em. +But his partner was some Dry-town halfbreed or Terran spy and they +fought wi' clawed gloves, and near killed one another except the +Terrans, who have no honor, stopped 'em. See the marks of the _kifirgh_ +on his face!" + +"By Sharra the golden-chained," said Kyral, gazing at me with something +like a grin. "You are, if nothing else, a very clever man. What are you, +spy, or half-caste of some Ardcarran slut?" + +"What I am doesn't matter to you," I said. "You have blood-feud with +Rakhal, but mine is older than yours and his life is mine. As you are +bound in honor to kill"--the formal phrases came easily now to my +tongue; the Earthman had slipped away--"so you are bound in honor to +help me kill. If anyone beneath your roof knows anything of Rakhal--" + +Kyral's smile bared his teeth. + +"Rakhal works against the Son of the Ape," he said, using the insulting +Wolf term for the Terrans. "If we help you to kill him, we remove a goad +from their flanks. I prefer to let the filthy _Terranan_ spend their +strength trying to remove it themselves. Moreover, I believe you are +yourself an Earthman. + +"You have no right to the courtesy I extend to we, the People of the +Sky. Yet you have drunk wine with me and I have no quarrel with you." He +raised his hand in dismissal, outfencing me. "Leave my roof in safety +and my city with honor." + +I could not protest or plead. A man's _kihar_, his personal dignity, is +a precious thing in Shainsa, and he had placed me so I could not +compromise mine further in words. Yet I lost _kihar_ equally if I left +at his bidding, like an inferior dismissed. + +One desperate gamble remained. + +"A word," I said, raising my hand, and while he half turned, startled, +believing I was indeed about to compromise my dignity by a further plea, +I flung it at him: + +"I will bet _shegri_ with you." + +His iron composure looked shaken. I had delivered a blow to his belief +that I was an Earthman, for it is doubtful if there are six Earthmen on +Wolf who know about _shegri_, the dangerous game of the Dry-towns. + +It is no ordinary gamble, for what the bettor stakes is his life, +possibly his reason. Rarely indeed will a man bet _shegri_ unless he has +nothing further to lose. + +It is a cruel, possibly decadent game, which has no parallel anywhere in +the known universe. + +But I had no choice. I had struck a cold trail in Shainsa. Rakhal might +be anywhere on the planet and half of Magnusson's month was already up. +Unless I could force Kyral to tell what he knew, I might as well quit. + +So I repeated: "I will bet _shegri_ with you." + +And Kyral stood unmoving. + +For what the _shegrin_ wagers is his courage and endurance in the face +of torture and an unknown fate. On his side, the stakes are clearly +determined beforehand. But if he loses, his punishment or penalty is at +the whim of the one who has accepted him, and he may be put to whatever +doom the winner determines. + +And this is the contest: + +The _shegrin_ permits himself to be tortured from sunrise to sunset. If +he endures he wins. It is as simple as that. He can stop the torture at +any moment by a word, but to do so is a concession of defeat. + +This is not as dangerous as it might, at first, seem. The other party to +the bet is bound by the ironclad codes of Wolf to inflict no permanent +physical damage (no injury that will not heal with three suncourses). +But from sunrise to sunset, any torment or painful ingenuity which the +half-human mentality of Wolf can devise must be endured. + +The man who can outthink the torture of the moment, the man who can hold +in his mind the single thought of his goal--that man can claim the +stakes he has set, as well as other concessions made traditional. + +The silence grew in the hall. Dallisa had straightened and was watching +me intently, her lips parted and the tip of a little red tongue visible +between her teeth. The only sound was the tiny crunching as the fat +woman nibbled at nuts and cast their shells into the brazier. Even the +child on the steps had abandoned her game with the crystal dice, and sat +looking up at me with her mouth open. Finally Kyral demanded, "Your +stakes?" + +"Tell me all you know of Rakhal Sensar and keep silence about me in +Shainsa." + +"By the red shadow," Kyral burst out, "you have courage, Rascar!" + +"Say only yes or no!" I retorted. + +Rebuked, he fell silent. Dallisa leaned forward and again, for some +unknown reason, I thought of a girl with hair like spun black glass. + +Kyral raised his hand. "I say no. I have blood-feud with Rakhal and I +will not sell his death to another. Further, I believe you are Terran +and I will not deal with you. And finally, you have twice saved my life +and I would find small pleasure in torturing you. I say no. Drink again +with me and we part without a quarrel." + +Beaten, I turned to go. + +"Wait," said Dallisa. + +She stood up and came down from the dais, slowly this time, walking with +dignity to the rhythm of her musically clashing chains. "I have a +quarrel with this man." + +I started to say that I did not quarrel with women, and stopped myself. +The Terran concept of chivalry has no equivalent on Wolf. + +She looked at me with her dark poison-berry eyes, icy and level and +amused, and said, "I will bet _shegri_ with you, unless you fear me, +Rascar." + +And I knew suddenly that if I lost, I might better have trusted myself +to Kyral and his whip, or to the wild beast-things of the mountains. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +I slept little that night. + +There is a tale told in Daillon of a _shegri_ where the challenger was +left in a room alone, where he was blindfolded and told to await the +beginning of the torment. + +Somewhere in those dark hours of waiting, between the unknown and the +unexpected, the hours of telling over to himself the horrors of past +_shegri_, the torture of anticipation alone became the unbearable. A +little past noon he collapsed in screams of horror and died raving, +unmarred, untouched. + +Daybreak came slowly, and with the first streamers of light came Dallisa +and the white _chak_, maliciously uninvolved, sniffing his way through +the shabby poverty of the great hall. They took me to a lower dungeon +where the slant of the sunlight was less visible. Dallisa said, "The sun +has risen." + +I said nothing. Any word may be interpreted as a confession of defeat. I +resolved to give them no excuse. But my skin crawled and I had that +peculiar prickling sensation where the hair on my forearms was +bristling erect with tension and fear. + +Dallisa said to the _chak_, "His gear was not searched. See that he has +swallowed no anesthetic drugs." + +Briefly I gave her credit for thoroughness, even while I wondered in a +split second why I had not thought of this. Drugs could blur +consciousness, at least, or suspend reality. The white nonhuman sprang +forward and pinioned my arms with one strong, spring-steel forearm. With +his other hand he forced my jaws open. I felt the furred fingers at the +back of my throat, gagged, struggled briefly and doubled up in +uncontrollable retching. + +Dallisa's poison-berry-eyes regarded me levelly as I struggled upright, +fighting off the dizzy sickness of disgust. Something about her +impassive face stopped me cold. I had been, momentarily, raging with +fury and humiliation. Now I realized that this had been a calculated, +careful gesture to make me lose my temper and thus sap my resistance. + +If she could set me to fighting, if she could make me spend my strength +in rage, my own imagination would fight on her side to make me lose +control before the end. Swimming in the glare of her eyes, I realized +she had never thought for a moment that I had taken any drug. Acting on +Kyral's hint that I was a Terran, she was taking advantage of the +well-known Terran revulsion for the nonhuman. + +"Blindfold him," Dallisa commanded, then instantly countermanded that: +"No, strip him first." + +The _chak_ ripped off shirtcloak, shirt, shoes, breeches, and I had my +first triumph when the wealed clawmarks on my shoulders--worse, if +possible, than those which disfigured my face--were laid bare. The +_chak_ screwed up his muzzle in fastidious horror, and Dallisa looked +shaken. I could almost read her thoughts: + +_If he endured this, what hope have I to make him cry mercy?_ + +Briefly I remembered the months I lay feverish and half dead, waiting +for the wounds Rakhal had inflicted to heal, those months when I had +believed that nothing would ever hurt me again, that I had known the +worst of all suffering. But I had been younger then. + +Dallisa had picked up two small sharp knives. She weighed them, +briefly, gesturing to the _chak_. Without resisting, I let myself be +manhandled backward, spreadeagled against the wall. + +Dallisa commanded, "Drive the knives through his palms to the wall!" + +My hands twitched convulsively, anticipating the slash of steel, and my +throat closed in spasmodic dread. This was breaking the compact, bound +as they were not to inflict physical damage. I opened my lips to protest +this breaking of the bond of honor and met her dark blazing stare, and +suddenly the sweat broke out on my forehead. I had placed myself wholly +in their hands, and as Kyral had said, they were in no way bound by +honor to respect a pledge to a Terran! + +Then, as my hands clenched into fists, I forced myself to relax. This +was a bluff, a mental trick to needle me into breaking the pact and +pleading for mercy. I set my lips, spread my palms wide against the wall +and waited impassively. + +She said in her lilting voice, "Take care not to sever the tendons, or +his hands would be paralyzed and he may claim we have broken our +compact." + +The points of the steel, razor-sharp, touched my palms, and I felt blood +run down my hand before the pain. With an effort that turned my face +white, I did not pull away from the point. The knives drove deeper. + +Dallisa gestured to the _chak_. The knives dropped. Two pinpricks, a +quarter of an inch deep, stung in my palm. I had outbluffed her. Had I? + +If I had expected her to betray disappointment--and I had--I was +disappointed. Abruptly, as if the game had wearied her already, she +gestured, and I could not hold back a gasp as my arms were hauled up +over my head, twisted violently around one another and trussed with thin +cords that bit deep into the flesh. Then the rough upward pull almost +jerked my shoulders from their sockets and I heard the giant _chak_ +grunt with effort as I was hauled upward until my feet barely, on +tiptoe, touched the floor. + +"Blindfold him," said Dallisa languidly, "so that he cannot watch the +ascent of the sun or its descent or know what is to come." + +A dark softness muffled my eyes. After a little I heard her steps +retreating. My arms, wrenched overhead and numbed with the bite of the +cords, were beginning to hurt badly now. But it wasn't too bad. Surely +she did not mean that this should be all.... + +Sternly I controlled my imagination, taking a tight rein on my thoughts. +There was only one way to meet this--hanging blind and racked in space, +my toes barely scrabbling at the floor--and that was to take each thing +as it came and not look ahead for an instant. First of all I tried to +get my feet under me, and discovered that by arching upwards to my +fullest height I could bear my weight on tiptoe and ease, a little, the +dislocating ache in my armpits by slackening the overhead rope. + +But after a little, a cramping pain began to flare through the arches of +my feet, and it became impossible to support my weight on tiptoe. I +jarred down with violent strain on my wrists and wrenched shoulders +again, and for a moment the shooting agony was so intense that I nearly +screamed. I thought I heard a soft breath near me. + +After a little it subsided to a sharp ache, then to a dull ache, and +then to the violent cramping pain again, and once more I struggled to +get my toes under me. I realized that by allowing my toes barely to +touch the floor they had doubled and tripled the pain by the tantalizing +hope of, if not momentary relief, at least the alteration of one pain +for another. + +I haven't the faintest idea, even now, how long I repeated that +agonizing cycle: struggle for a toehold on rough stone, scraping my bare +feet raw; arch upward with all my strength to release for a few moments +the strain on my wrenched shoulders; the momentary illusion of relief as +I found my balance and the pressure lightened on my wrists. + +Then the slow creeping, first of an ache, then of a pain, then of a +violent agony in the arches of feet and calves. And, delayed to the last +endurable moment, that final terrible anguish when the drop of my full +weight pulled shoulder and wrist and elbow joints with that +bone-shattering jerk. + +I started once to estimate how much time had passed, how many hours had +crawled by, then checked myself, for that was imminent madness. But once +the process had begun my brain would not abandon and I found myself, +with compulsive precision, counting off the seconds and the minutes in +each cycle: stretch upward, release the pressure on the arms; the +beginning of pain in calves and arches and toes; the creeping of pain up +ribs and loins and shoulders; the sudden jarring drop on the arms again. + +My throat was intolerably dry. Under other circumstances I might have +estimated the time by the growth of hunger and thirst, but the rough +treatment I had received made this impossible. There were other, +unmentionable, humiliating pains. + +After a time, to bolster my flagging courage, I found myself thinking of +all the ways it might have been worse. I had heard of a _shegrin_ +exposed to the bite of poisonous--not fatal, but painfully +poisonous--insects, and to the worrying of the small gnawing rodents +which can be trained to bite and tear. Or I might have been branded.... + +I banished the memory with the powerful exorcism; the man in Daillon +whose anticipation, alone, of a torture which never came, had broken his +mind. There was only one way to conquer this, and that was to act as if +the present moment was the only one, and never for a moment to forget +that the strongest of compacts bound them not to harm me, that the end +of this was fixed by sunset. + +Gradually, however, all such rational thoughts blurred in a semidelirium +of thirst and pain, narrowing to a red blaze of agony across my shoulder +blades. I eased up on my toes again. + +White-hot pain blazed through my feet. The rough stone on which my toes +sank had been covered with metal and I smelled scorching flesh, jerking +up my feet with a wordless snarl of rage and fury, hanging in agony by +my shoulders alone. + +And then I lost consciousness, at least for several moments, for when I +became aware again, through the nightmare of pain, my toes were resting +lightly and securely on cold stone. The smell of burned flesh remained, +and the painful stinging in my toes. Mingled with that smell was a drift +of perfume close by. + +Dallisa murmured, "I do not wish to break our bargain by damaging your +feet. It's only a little touch of fire to keep you from too much +security in resting them." + +I felt the taste of blood mingle in my mouth with the sour taste of +vomit. I felt delirious, lightheaded. After another eternity I wondered +if I had really heard Dallisa's lilting croon or whether it was a +nightmare born of feverish pain: + +_Plead with me. A word, only a word and I will release you, strong man, +scarred man. Perhaps I shall demand only a little space in your arms. +Would not such doom be light upon you? Perhaps I shall set you free to +seek Rakhal if only to plague Kyral. A word, only a word from you. A +word, only a word from you...._ + +It died into an endlessly echoing whisper. Swaying, blinded, I wondered +why I endured. I drew a dry tongue over lips, salty and bloody, and +nightmarishly considered yielding, winning my way somehow around +Dallisa. Or knocking her suddenly senseless and escaping--I, who need +not be bound by Wolf's codes either. I fumbled with a stiff shape of +words. + +And a breath saved me, a soft, released breath of anticipation. It was +another trick. I swayed, limp and racked. I was not Race Cargill now. I +was a dead man hanging in chains, swinging, filthy vultures pecking at +my dangling feet. I was.... + +The sound of boots rang on the stone and Kyral's voice, low and bitter, +demanded somewhere behind me, "What have you done with him?" + +She did not answer, but I heard her chains clash lightly and imagined +her gesture. Kyral muttered, "Women have no genius at any torture +except...." His voice faded out into great distances. Their words came +to me over a sort of windy ringing, like the howling of lost men, dying +in the snowfast passes of the mountains. + +"Speak up, you fool, he can't hear you now." + +"If you have let him faint, you are clumsy!" + +"_You_ talk of clumsiness!" Dallisa's voice, even thinned by the +nightmare ringing in my head, held concentrated scorn. "Perhaps I shall +release him, to find Rakhal when you failed! The Terrans have a price on +Rakhal's head, too. And at least this man will not confuse himself with +his prey!" + +"If you think I would let you bargain with a _Terranan_--" + +Dallisa cried passionately, "You trade with the Terrans! How would you +stop me, then?" + +"I trade with them because I must. But for a matter involving the honor +of the Great House--" + +"The Great House whose steps you would never have climbed, except for +Rakhal!" Dallisa sounded as if she were chewing her words in little +pieces and spitting them at Kyral. "Oh, you were clever to take us both +as your consorts! You did not know it was Rakhal's doing, did you? Hate +the Terrans, then!" She spat an obscenity at him. "Enjoy your hate, +wallow in hating, and in the end all Shainsa will fall prey to the +Toymaker, like Miellyn." + +"If you speak that name again," said Kyral very low, "I will kill you." + +"Like Miellyn, Miellyn, Miellyn," Dallisa repeated deliberately. "You +fool, Rakhal knew nothing of Miellyn!" + +"He was seen--" + +"With _me_, you fool! With _me_! You cannot yet tell twin from twin? +Rakhal came to _me_ to ask news of her!" + +Kyral cried out hoarsely, like a man in anguish, "Why didn't you tell +me?" + +"You don't really have to ask, do you, Kyral?" + +"You bitch!" said Kyral. "You filthy bitch!" I heard the sound of a +blow. The next moment Kyral ripped the blindfold from my eyes and I +blinked in the blaze of light. My arms were wholly numb now, twisted +above my head, but the jar of his touch sent fresh pain racing through +me. Kyral's face swam out of the blaze of hell. "If that is true, then +this is a damnable farce, Dallisa. You have lost our chance of learning +what he knows of Miellyn." + +"What _he_ knows?" Dallisa lowered her hand from her face, where a +bruise was already darkening. + +"Miellyn has twice appeared when I was with him. Loose him, Dallisa, and +bargain with him. What we know of Rakhal for what he knows of Miellyn." + +"If you think I would let you bargain with _Terranan_," she mocked. +"Weakling, this quarrel is _mine_! You fool, the others in the caravan +will give me news, if you will not! _Where is Cuinn?_" + +From a million miles away Kyral laughed. "You've slipped the wrong hawk, +Dallisa. The catmen killed him." His skean flicked loose. He climbed to +a perch near the rope at my wrists. "Bargain with me, Rascar!" + +I coughed, unable to speak, and Kyral insisted, "Will you bargain? End +this damned woman's farce which makes a mock of _shegri_?" + +The slant of sun told me there was light left. I found a shred of voice, +not knowing what I was going to say until I had said it, irrevocably. +"This is between Dallisa and me." + +Kyral glared at me in mounting rage. With four strides he was out of the +room, flinging back a harsh, furious "I hope you kill each other!" and +the door slammed. + +Dallisa's face swam red, and again as before, I knew the battle which +was joined between us would be fought to a dreadful end. She touched my +chest lightly, but the touch jolted excruciating pain through my +shoulders. + +"Did you kill Cuinn?" + +I wondered, wearily, what this presaged. + +"Did you?" In a passion, she cried, "Answer! Did you kill him?" She +struck me hard, and where the touch had been pain, the blow was a blaze +of white agony. I fainted. + +"Answer!" She struck me again and the white blaze jolted me back to +consciousness. "Answer me! Answer!" Each cry bought a blow until I +gasped finally, "He signaled ... set catmen on us...." + +"No!" She stood staring at me and her white face was a death mask in +which the eyes lived. She screamed wildly and the huge _chak_ came +running. + +"Cut him down! Cut him down! Cut him down!" + +A knife slashed the rope and I slumped, falling in a bone-breaking +huddle to the floor. My arms were still twisted over my head. The _chak_ +cut the ropes apart, pulled my arms roughly back into place, and I +gagged with the pain as the blood began flowing painfully through the +chafed and swollen hands. + +And then I lost consciousness. More or less permanently, this time. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +When I came to again I was lying with my head in Dallisa's lap, and the +reddish color of sunset was in the room. Her thighs were soft under my +head, and for an instant I wondered if, in delirium, I had conceded to +her. I muttered, "Sun ... not down...." + +She bent her face to mine, whispering, "Hush. Hush." + +It was heaven, and I drifted off again. After a moment I felt a cup +against my lips. + +"Can you swallow this?" + +I could and did. I couldn't taste it yet, but it was cold and wet and +felt heavenly trickling down my throat. She bent and looked into my +eyes, and I felt as if I were falling into those reddish and stormy +depths. She touched my scarred mouth with a light finger. Suddenly my +head cleared and I sat upright. + +"Is this a trick to force me into calling my bet?" + +She recoiled as if I had struck her, then the trace of a smile flitted +around her red mouth. Yes, between us it was battle. "You are right to +be suspicious, I suppose. But if I tell you what I know of Rakhal, will +you trust me then?" + +I looked straight at her and said, "No." + +Surprisingly, she threw back her head and laughed. I flexed my freed +wrists cautiously. The skin was torn away and chafed, and my arms ached +to the bone. When I moved harsh lances of pain drove through my chest. + +"Well, until sunset I have no right to ask you to trust me," said +Dallisa when she had done laughing. "And since you are bound by my +command until the last ray has fallen, I command that you lay your head +upon my knees." + +I blazed, "You are making a game of me!" + +"Is that my privilege? Do you refuse?" + +"Refuse?" It was not yet sunset. This might be a torture more complex +than any which had yet greeted me. From the scarlet glint in her eyes I +felt she was playing with me, as the cat-things of the forest play with +their helpless victims. My mouth twitched in a grimace of humiliation as +I lowered myself obediently until my head rested on her fur-clad knees. + +She murmured, smiling, "Is this so unbearable, then?" + +I said nothing. Never, never for an instant could I forget that--all +human, all woman as she seemed--Dallisa's race was worn and old when the +Terran Empire had not left their home star. The mind of Wolf, which has +mingled with the nonhuman since before the beginnings of recorded time, +is unfathomable to an outsider. I was better equipped than most Earthmen +to keep pace with its surface acts, but I could never pretend to +understand its deeper motivations. + +It works on complex and irrational logic. Mischief is an integral part +of it. Even the deadly blood-feud with Rakhal had begun with an +overelaborate practical joke--which had lost the Service, incidentally, +several thousand credits worth of spaceship. + +And so I could not trust Dallisa for an instant. Yet it was wonderful to +lie here with my head resting against the perfumed softness of her body. + +Then suddenly her arms were gripping me, frantic and hungry; the subdued +thing in her voice, her eyes, flamed out hot and wild. She was pressing +the whole length of her body to mine, breasts and thighs and long legs, +and her voice was hoarse. + +"Is this torture too?" + +Beneath the fur robe she was soft and white, and the subtle scent of her +hair seemed a deeper entrapment than any. Frail as she seemed, her arms +had the strength of steel, and pain blazed down my wrenched shoulders, +seared through the twisted wrists. Then I forgot the pain. + +Over her shoulder the last dropping redness of the sun vanished and +plunged the room into orchid twilight. + +I caught her wrists in my hands, prizing them backward, twisting them +upward over her head. I said thickly, "The sun's down." And then I +stopped her wild mouth with mine. + +And I knew that the battle between us had reached climax and victory +simultaneously, and any question about who had won it was purely +academic. + + * * * * * + +During the night sometime, while her dark head lay motionless on my +shoulder, I found myself staring into the darkness, wakeful. The +throbbing of my bruises had little to do with my sleeplessness; I was +remembering other chained girls from the old days in the Dry-towns, and +the honey and poison of them distilled into Dallisa's kisses. Her head +was very light on my shoulders, and she felt curiously insubstantial, +like a woman of feathers. + +One of the tiny moons was visible through the slitted windows. I thought +of my rooms in the Terran Trade City, clean and bright and warm, and all +the nights when I had paced the floor, hating, filled to the teeth with +bitterness, longing for the windswept stars of the Dry-towns, the salt +smell of the winds and the musical clashing of the walk of the chained +women. + +With a sting of guilt, I realized that I had half forgotten Juli and my +pledge to her and her misfortune which had freed me again, for this. + +Yet I had won, and what they knew had narrowed my planet-wide search to +a pinpoint. Rakhal was in Charin. + +I wasn't altogether surprised. Charin is the only city on Wolf, except +the Kharsa, where the Terran Empire has put down deep roots into the +planet, built a Trade City, a smaller spaceport. Like the Kharsa, it +lies within the circle of Terran law--and a million miles outside it. + +A nonhuman town, inhabited largely by _chaks_, it is the core and center +of the resistance movement, a noisy town in a perpetual ferment. It was +the logical place for a renegade. I settled myself so that the ache in +my racked shoulders was less violent, and muttered, "Why Charin?" + +Slight as the movement was, it roused Dallisa. She rolled over and +propped herself on her elbows, quoting drowsily, "The prey walks safest +at the hunter's door." + +I stared at the square of violet moonlight, trying to fit together all +the pieces of the puzzle, and asked half aloud, "What prey and what +hunters?" + +Dallisa didn't answer. I hadn't expected her to answer. I asked the real +question in my mind: "Why does Kyral hate Rakhal Sensar, when he doesn't +even know him by sight?" + +"There are reasons," she said somberly. "One of them is Miellyn, my twin +sister. Kyral climbed the steps of the Great House by claiming us both +as his consorts. He is our father's son by another wife." + +That explained much. Brother-and-sister marriages, not uncommon in the +Dry-towns, are based on expediency and suspicion, and are frequently, +though not always loveless. It explained Dallisa's taunts, and it partly +explained, only partly, why I found her in my arms. It did not explain +Rakhal's part in this mysterious intrigue, nor why Kyral had taken me +for Rakhal, (but only after he remembered seeing me in Terran clothing). + +I wondered why it had never occurred to me before that I might be +mistaken for Rakhal. There was no close resemblance between us, but a +casual description would apply equally well to me or to Rakhal. My +height is unusual for a Terran--within an inch of Rakhal's own--and we +had roughly the same build, the same coloring. I had copied his walk, +imitated his mannerisms, since we were boys together. + +And, blurring minor facial characteristics, there were the scars of the +_kifirgh_ on my mouth, cheeks, and shoulders. Anyone who did not know us +by sight, anyone who had known us by reputation from the days when we +had worked together in the Dry-towns, might easily take one of us for +the other. Even Juli had blurted, "You're so much like--" before +thinking better of it. + +Other odd bits of the puzzle floated in my mind, stubbornly refusing to +take on recognizable patterns, the disappearance of a toy-seller; Juli's +hysterical babbling; the way the girl--Miellyn?--had vanished into a +shrine of Nebran; and the taunts of Dallisa and the old man about a +mysterious "Toymaker." And something, some random joggling of a memory, +in that eerie trading in the city of the Silent Ones. I knew all these +things fitted together somehow, but I had no real hope that Dallisa +could complete their pattern for me. + +She said, with a vehemence that startled me, "Miellyn is only the +excuse! Kyral hates Rakhal because Rakhal will compromise and because +he'll fight!" + +She rolled over and pressed herself against me in the darkness. Her +voice trembled. "Race, our world is dying. We can't stand against Terra. +And there are other things, worse things." + +I sat up, surprised to find myself defending Terra to this girl. After +all these years I was back in my own world. And yet I heard myself say +quietly, "The Terrans aren't exploiting Wolf. We haven't abolished the +rule of Shainsa. We've changed nothing." + +It was true. Terra held Wolf by compact, not conquest. They paid, and +paid generously, for the lease of the lands where their Trade Cities +would rise, and stepped beyond them only when invited to do so. + +"We let any city or state that wants to keep its independence govern +itself until it collapses, Dallisa. And they do collapse after a +generation or so. Very few primitive planets can hold out against us. +The people themselves get tired of living under feudal or theocratic +systems, and they beg to be taken into the Empire. That's all." + +"But that's just it," Dallisa argued. "You give the people all those +things we used to give them, and you do it better. Just by being here, +you are killing the Dry-towns. They're turning to you and leaving us, +and you let them do it." + +I shook my head. "We've kept the Terran Peace for centuries. What do you +expect? Should we give you arms, planes, bombs, weapons to hold your +slaves down?" + +"Yes!" she flared at me. "The Dry-towns have ruled Wolf +since--since--you, you can't even imagine how long! And we made compact +with you to trade here--" + +"And we have rewarded you by leaving you untouched," I said quietly. +"But we have not forbidden the Dry-towns to come into the Empire and +work with Terra." + +She said bitterly, "Men like Kyral will die first," and pressed her face +helplessly against me. "And I will die with them. Miellyn broke away, +but I cannot! Courage is what I lack. Our world is rotten, Race, rotten +all through, and I'm as rotten as the core of it. I could have killed +you today, and I'm here in your arms. Our world is rotten, but I've no +confidence that the new world will be better!" + +I put my hand under her chin, and looked down gravely into her face, +only a pale oval in the darkness. There was nothing I could say; she had +said it all, and truthfully. I had hated and yearned and starved for +this, and when I found it, it turned salty and bloody on my lips, like +Dallisa's despairing kisses. She ran her fingers over the scars on my +face, then gripped her small thin hands around my wrists so fiercely +that I grunted protest. + +"You will not forget me," she said in her strangely lilting voice. "You +will not forget me, although you were victorious." She twisted and lay +looking up at me, her eyes glowing faintly luminous in darkness. I knew +that she could see me as clearly as if it were day. "I think it was my +victory, not yours, Race Cargill." + +Gently, on an impulse I could not explain, I picked up one delicate +wrist, then the other, unclasping the heavy jeweled bracelets. She let +out a stifled cry of dismay. And then I tossed the chains into a corner +before I drew her savagely into my arms again and forced her head back +under my mouth. + + * * * * * + +I said good-bye to her alone, in the reddish, windswept space before the +Great House. She pressed her head against my shoulder and whispered, +"Race, take me with you!" + +For answer I only picked up her narrow wrists and turned them over on my +palm. The jeweled bracelets were clasped again around the thinly boned +joints, and on some self-punishing impulse she had shortened the chains +so that she could not even put her arms around me. I lifted the punished +wrists to my mouth and kissed them gently. + +"You don't want to leave, Dallisa." + +I was desperately sorry for her. She would go down with her dying world, +proud and cold and with no place in the new one. She kissed me and I +tasted blood, her thin fettered body straining wildly against me, shaken +with tearing, convulsive sobs. Then she turned and fled back into the +shadow of the great dark house. + +I never saw her again. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +A few days later I found myself nearing the end of the trail. + +It was twilight in Charin, hot and reeking with the gypsy glare of fires +which burned, smoking, at the far end of the Street of the Six +Shepherds. I crouched in the shadow of a wall, waiting. + +My skin itched from the dirty shirtcloak I hadn't changed in days. +Shabbiness is wise in nonhuman parts, and Dry-towners think too much of +water to waste much of it in superfluous washing anyhow. I scratched +unobtrusively and glanced cautiously down the street. + +It seemed empty, except for a few sodden derelicts sprawled in +doorways--the Street of the Six Shepherds is a filthy slum--but I made +sure my skean was loose. Charin is not a particularly safe town, even +for Dry-towners, and especially not for Earthmen, at any time. + +Even with what Dallisa had told me, the search had been difficult. +Charin is not Shainsa. In Charin, where human and nonhuman live closer +together than anywhere else on the planet, information about such men as +Rakhal can be bought, but the policy is to let the buyer beware. That's +fair enough, because the life of the seller has a way of not being worth +much afterward, either. + +A dirty, dust-laden wind was blowing up along the street, heavy with +strange smells. The pungent reek of incense from a street-shrine was in +the smells. The heavy, acrid odor that made my skin crawl. In the hills +behind Charin, the Ghost Wind was rising. + +Borne on this wind, the Ya-men would sweep down from the mountains, and +everything human or nearly human would scatter in their path. They would +range through the quarter all night, and in the morning they would melt +away, until the Ghost Wind blew again. At any other time, I would +already have taken cover. I fancied that I could hear, borne on the +wind, the faraway yelping, and envision the plumed, taloned figures +which would come leaping down the street. + +In that moment, the quiet of the street split asunder. + +From somewhere a girl's voice screamed in shrill pain or panic. Then I +saw her, dodging between two of the chinked pebble-houses. She was a +child, thin and barefoot, a long tangle of black hair flying loose as +she darted and twisted to elude the lumbering fellow at her heels. His +outstretched paw jerked cruelly at her slim wrist. + +The little girl screamed and wrenched herself free and threw herself +straight on me, wrapping herself around my neck with the violence of a +storm wind. Her hair got in my mouth and her small hands gripped at my +back like a cat's flexed claws. + +"Oh, help me," she gasped between sobs. "Don't let him get me, don't." +And even in that broken plea I took it in that the little ragamuffin did +not speak the jargon of that slum, but the pure speech of Shainsa. + +What I did then was as automatic as if it had been Juli. I pulled the +kid loose, shoved her behind me, and scowled at the brute who lurched +toward us. + +"Make yourself scarce," I advised. "We don't chase little girls where I +come from. Haul off, now." + +The man reeled. I smelled the rankness of his rags as he thrust one +grimy paw at the girl. I never was the hero type, but I'd started +something which I had to carry through. I thrust myself between them and +put my hand on the skean again. + +"You--you Dry-towner." The man set up a tipsy howl, and I sucked in my +breath. Now I was in for it. Unless I got out of there damned fast, I'd +lose what I'd come all the way to Charin to find. + +I felt like handing the girl over. For all I knew, the bully could be +her father and she was properly in line for a spanking. This wasn't any +of my business. My business lay at the end of the street, where Rakhal +was waiting at the fires. He wouldn't be there long. Already the smell +of the Ghost Wind was heavy and harsh, and little flurries of sand went +racing along the street, lifting the flaps of the doorways. + +But I did nothing so sensible. The big lunk made a grab at the girl, and +I whipped out my skean and pantomimed. + +"Get going!" + +"Dry-towner!" He spat out the word like filth, his pig-eyes narrowing to +slits. "Son of the Ape! _Earthman!_" + +"_Terranan!_" Someone took up the howl. There was a stir, a rustle, all +along the street that had seemed empty, and from nowhere, it seemed, the +space in front of me was crowded with shadowy forms, human and +otherwise. + +"Earthman!" + +I felt the muscles across my belly knotting into a band of ice. I didn't +believe I'd given myself away as an Earthman. The bully was using the +time-dishonored tactic of stirring up a riot in a hurry, but just the +same I looked quickly round, hunting a path of escape. + +"Put your skean in his guts, Spilkar! Grab him!" + +"Hai-ai! Earthman! _Hai-ai!_" + +It was the last cry that made me panic. Through the sultry glare at the +end of the street, I could see the plumed, taloned figures of the +Ya-men, gliding through the banners of smoke. The crowd melted open. + +I didn't stop to reflect on the fact--suddenly very obvious--that Rakhal +couldn't have been at the fires at all, and that my informant had led me +into an open trap, a nest of Ya-men already inside Charin. The crowd +edged back and muttered, and suddenly I made my choice. I whirled, +snatched up the girl in my arms and ran straight toward the advancing +figures of the Ya-men. + +Nobody followed me. I even heard a choked shout that sounded like a +warning. I heard the yelping shrieks of the Ya-men grow to a wild howl, +and at the last minute, when their stiff rustling plumes loomed only a +few yards away, I dived sidewise into an alley, stumbled on some rubbish +and spilled the girl down. + +"Run, kid!" + +She shook herself like a puppy climbing out of water. Her small fingers +closed like a steel trap on my wrist. "This way," she urged in a hasty +whisper, and I found myself plunging out the far end of the alley and +into the shelter of a street-shrine. The sour stink of incense smarted +in my nostrils, and I could hear the yelping of the Ya-men as they +leaped and rustled down the alley, their cold and poisonous eyes +searching out the recess where I crouched with the girl. + +"Here," she panted, "stand close to me on the stone--" I drew back, +startled. + +"Oh, don't stop to argue," she whimpered. "Come _here_!" + +"_Hai-ai!_ Earthman! There he is!" + +The girl's arms flung round me again. I felt her slight, hard body +pressing on mine and she literally hauled me toward the pattern of +stones at the center of the shrine. I wouldn't have been human if I +hadn't caught her closer yet. + +The world reeled. The street disappeared in a cone of spinning lights, +stars danced crazily, and I plunged down through a widening gulf of +empty space, locked in the girl's arms. I fell, spun, plunged head over +heels through tilting lights and shadows that flung us through +eternities of freefall. The yelping of the Ya-men whirled away in +unimaginable distances, and for a second I felt the unmerciful blackout +of a power dive, with blood breaking from my nostrils and filling my +mouth. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +Lights flared in my eyes. + +I was standing solidly on my feet in the street-shrine, but the street +was gone. Coils of incense still smudged the air. The God squatted +toadlike in his recess. The girl was hanging limp, locked in my clenched +arms. As the floor straightened under my feet I staggered, thrown off +balance by the sudden return of the girl's weight, and grabbed blindly +for support. + +"Give her to me," said a voice, and the girl's sagging body was lifted +from my arms. A strong hand grasped my elbow. I found a chair beneath my +knees and sank gratefully into it. + +"The transmission isn't smooth yet between such distant terminals," the +voice remarked. "I see Miellyn has fainted again. A weakling, the girl, +but useful." + +I spat blood, trying to get the room in focus. For I was inside a room, +a room of some translucent substance, windowless, a skylight high above +me, through which pink daylight streamed. Daylight--and it had been +midnight in Charin! I'd come halfway around the planet in a few seconds! + +From somewhere I heard the sound of hammering, tiny, bell-like +hammering, the chiming of a fairy anvil. I looked up and saw a man--a +man?--watching me. + +On Wolf you see all kinds of human, half-human and nonhuman life, and I +consider myself something of an expert on all three. But I had never +seen anyone, or anything, who so closely resembled the human and so +obviously wasn't. He, or it, was tall and lean, man-shaped but oddly +muscled, a vague suggestion of something less than human in the lean +hunch of his posture. + +Manlike, he wore green tight-fitting trunks and a shirt of green fur +that revealed bulging biceps where they shouldn't be, and angular planes +where there should have been swelling muscles. The shoulders were high, +the neck unpleasantly sinuous, and the face, a little narrower than +human, was handsomely arrogant, with a kind of wary alert mischief that +was the least human thing about him. + +He bent, tilted the girl's inert body on to a divan of some sort, and +turned his back on her, lifting his hand in an impatient, and +unpleasantly reminiscent, gesture. + +The tinkling of the little hammers stopped as if a switch had been +disconnected. + +"Now," said the nonhuman, "we can talk." + +Like the waif, he spoke Shainsan, and spoke it with a better accent than +any nonhuman I had ever known--so well that I looked again to be +certain. I wasn't too dazed to answer in the same tongue, but I couldn't +keep back a spate of questions: + +"What happened? Who are you? What is this place?" + +The nonhuman waited, crossing his hands--quite passable hands, if you +didn't look too closely at what should have been nails--and bent forward +in a sketchy gesture. + +"Do not blame Miellyn. She acted under orders. It was imperative you be +brought here tonight, and we had reason to believe you might ignore an +ordinary summons. You were clever at evading our surveillance, for a +time. But there would not be two Dry-towners in Charin tonight who would +dare the Ghost Wind. Your reputation does you justice, Rakhal Sensar." + +_Rakhal Sensar!_ Once again Rakhal! + +Shaken, I pulled a rag from my pocket and wiped blood from my mouth. I'd +figured out, in Shainsa, why the mistake was logical. And here in Charin +I'd been hanging around in Rakhal's old haunts, covering his old trails. +Once again, mistaken identity was natural. + +Natural or not, I wasn't going to deny it. If these were Rakhal's +enemies, my real identity should be kept as an ace in reserve which +might--just might--get me out alive again. If they were his friends ... +well, I could only hope that no one who knew him well by sight would +walk in on me. + +"We knew," the nonhuman continued, "that if you remained where you +were, the _Terranan_ Cargill would have made his arrest. We know about +your quarrel with Cargill, among other things, but we did not consider +it necessary that you should fall into his hands at present." + +I was puzzled. "I still don't understand. Exactly where am I?" + +"This is the mastershrine of Nebran." + +_Nebran!_ + +The stray pieces of the puzzle suddenly jolted into place. Kyral had +warned me, not knowing he was doing it. I hastily imitated the gesture +Kyral had made, gabbling a few words of an archaic charm. + +Like every Earthman who's lived on Wolf more than a tourist season, I'd +seen faces go blank and impassive at mention of the Toad God. Rumor made +his spies omnipresent, his priests omniscient, his anger all-powerful. I +had believed about a tenth of what I had heard, or less. + +The Terran Empire has little to say to planetary religions, and Nebran's +cult is a remarkably obscure one, despite the street-shrines on every +corner. Now I was in his mastershrine, and the device which had brought +me here was beyond doubt a working model of a matter transmitter. + +A matter transmitter, a working model--the words triggered memory. +Rakhal was after it. + +"And who," I asked slowly, "are you, Lord?" + +The green-clad creature hunched thin shoulders again in a ceremonious +gesture. "I am called Evarin. Humble servant of Nebran and yourself," he +added, but there was no humility in his manner. "I am called the +Toymaker." + +_Evarin._ That was another name given weight by rumor. A breath of +gossip in a thieves market. A scrawled word on smudged paper. A blank +folder in Terran Intelligence. Another puzzle-piece snapped into +place--_Toymaker_! + +The girl on the divan sat up suddenly passing slim hands over her +disheveled hair. "Did I faint, Evarin? I had to fight to get him into +the stone, and the patterns were not set straight in that terminal. You +must send one of the Little Ones to set them to rights. Toymaker, you +are not listening to me." + +"Stop chattering, Miellyn," said Evarin indifferently. "You brought him +here, and that is all that matters. You aren't hurt?" + +Miellyn pouted and looked ruefully at her bare bruised feet, patted the +wrinkles in her ragged frock with fastidious fingers. "My poor feet," +she mourned, "they are black and blue with the cobbles and my hair is +filled with sand and tangles! Toymaker, what way was this to send me to +entice a man? Any man would have come quickly, quickly, if he had seen +me looking lovely, but you--you send me in rags!" + +She stamped a small bare foot. She was not merely as young as she had +looked in the street. Though immature and underdeveloped by Terran +standards, she had a fair figure for a Dry-town woman. Her rags fell now +in graceful folds. Her hair was spun black glass, and I--I saw what the +rags and the confusion in the filthy street had kept me from seeing +before. + +It was the girl of the spaceport cafe, the girl who had appeared and +vanished in the eerie streets of Canarsa. + +Evarin was regarding her with what, in a human, might have been rueful +impatience. He said, "You know you enjoyed yourself, as always, Miellyn. +Run along and make yourself beautiful again, little nuisance." + +The girl danced out of the room, and I was just as glad to see her go. +The Toymaker motioned to me. + +"This way," he directed, and led me through a different door. The +offstage hammering I had heard, tiny bell tones like a fairy xylophone, +began again as the door opened, and we passed into a workroom which made +me remember nursery tales from a half-forgotten childhood on Terra. For +the workers were tiny, gnarled _trolls_! + +They were _chaks_. _Chaks_ from the polar mountains, dwarfed and furred +and half-human, with witchlike faces and great golden eyes, and I had +the curious feeling that if I looked hard enough I would see the little +toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa. I didn't look. I figured I +was in enough trouble already. + +Tiny hammers pattered on miniature anvils in a tinkling, jingling chorus +of musical clinks and taps. Golden eyes focused like lenses over winking +jewels and gimcracks. Busy elves. Makers of toys! + +Evarin jerked his shoulders with an imperative gesture. I followed him +through a fairy workroom, but could not refrain from casting a lingering +look at the worktables. A withered leprechaun set eyes into the head of +a minikin hound. Furred fingers worked precious metals into invisible +filigree for the collarpiece of a dancing doll. Metallic feathers were +thrust with clockwork precision into the wings of a skeleton bird no +longer than my fingernail. The nose of the hound wabbled and sniffed, +the bird's wings quivered, the eyes of the little dancer followed my +footsteps. + +Toys? + +"This way," Evarin rapped, and a door slid shut behind us. The clinks +and taps grew faint, fainter, but never ceased. + +My face must have betrayed more than conventional impassivity, for +Evarin smiled. "Now you know, Rakhal, why I am called Toymaker. Is it +not strange--the masterpriest of Nebran, a maker of Toys, and the shrine +of the Toad God a workshop for children's playthings?" + +Evarin paused suggestively. They were obviously not children's +playthings and this was my cue to say so, but I avoided the trap. Evarin +opened a sliding panel and took out a doll. + +She was perhaps the length of my longest finger, molded to the precise +proportions of a woman, and costumed after the bizarre fashion of the +Ardcarran dancing girls. Evarin touched no button or key that I could +see, but when he set the figure on its feet, it executed a whirling, +armtossing dance in a fast, tricky tempo. + +"I am, in a sense, benevolent," Evarin murmured. He snapped his fingers +and the doll sank to her knees and poised there, silent. "Moreover, I +have the means and, let us say, the ability to indulge my small +fantasies. + +"The little daughter of the President of the Federation of Trade Cities +on Samarra was sent such a doll recently. What a pity that Paolo +Arimengo was so suddenly impeached and banished!" The Toymaker clucked +his teeth commiseratingly. "Perhaps this small companion will compensate +the little Carmela for her adjustment to her new ... position." + +He replaced the dancer and pulled down something like a whirligig. "This +might interest you," he mused, and set it spinning. I stared at the +pattern of lights that flowed and disappeared, melting in and out of +visible shadows. Suddenly I realized what the thing was doing. I +wrested my eyes away with an effort. Had there been a lapse of seconds +or minutes? Had Evarin spoken? + +Evarin arrested the compelling motion with one finger. "Several of these +pretty playthings are available to the children of important men," he +said absently. "An import of value for our exploited and impoverished +world. Unfortunately they are, perhaps, a little ... ah, obvious. The +incidence of nervous breakdowns is, ah, interfering with their sale. The +children, of course, are unaffected, and love them." Evarin set the +hypnotic wheel moving again, glanced sidewise at me, then set it +carefully back. + +"Now"--Evarin's voice, hard with the silkiness of a cat's snarl, clawed +the silence--"we'll talk business." + +I turned, composing my face. Evarin had something concealed in one hand, +but I didn't think it was a weapon. And if I'd known, I'd have had to +ignore it anyway. + +"Perhaps you wonder how we recognized and found you?" A panel cleared in +the wall and became translucent. Confused flickers moved, dropped into +focus and I realized that the panel was an ordinary television screen +and I was looking into the well-known interior of the Cafe of Three +Rainbows in the Trade City of Charin. + +By this time I was running low on curiosity and didn't wonder till much, +much later how televised pictures were transmitted around the curve of a +planet. Evarin sharpened the focus down on the long Earth-type bar where +a tall man in Terran clothes was talking to a pale-haired girl. Evarin +said, "By now, Race Cargill has decided, no doubt, that you fell into +his trap and into the hands of the Ya-men. He is off-guard now." + +And suddenly the whole thing seemed so unbearably, illogically funny +that my shoulders shook with the effort to keep back dangerous laughter. +Since I'd landed in Charin, I'd taken great pains to avoid the Trade +City, or anyone who might have associated me with it. And Rakhal, +somehow aware of this, had conveniently filled up the gap. By posing as +me. + +It wasn't nearly as difficult as it sounded. I had found that out in +Shainsa. Charin is a long, long way from the major Trade City near the +Kharsa. I hadn't a single intimate friend there, or within hundreds of +miles, to see through the imposture. At most, there were half a dozen of +the staff that I'd once met, or had a drink with, eight or ten years +ago. + +Rakhal could speak perfect Standard when he chose; if he lapsed into +Dry-town idiom, that too was in my known character. I had no doubt he +was making a great success of it all, probably doing much better with my +identity than I could ever have done with his. + +Evarin rasped, "Cargill meant to leave the planet. What stopped him? You +could be of use to us, Rakhal. But not with this blood-feud unsettled." + +That needed no elucidation. No Wolfan in his right mind will bargain +with a Dry-towner carrying an unresolved blood-feud. By law and custom, +declared blood-feud takes precedence over any other business, public or +private, and is sufficient excuse for broken promises, neglected duties, +theft, even murder. + +"We want it settled once and for all." Evarin's voice was low and +unhurried. "And we aren't above weighting the scales. This Cargill can, +and has, posed as a Dry-towner, undetected. We don't like Earthmen who +can do that. In settling your feud, you will be aiding us, and removing +a danger. We would be ... grateful." + +He opened his closed hand, displaying something small, curled, inert. + +"Every living thing emits a characteristic pattern of electrical nerve +impulses. We have ways of recording those impulses, and we have had you +and Cargill under observation for a long time. We've had plenty of +opportunity to key this Toy to Cargill's pattern." + +On his palm the curled thing stirred, spread wings. A fledgling bird lay +there, small soft body throbbing slightly. Half-hidden in a ruff of +metallic feathers I glimpsed a grimly elongated beak. The pinions were +feathered with delicate down less than a quarter of an inch long. They +beat with delicate insistence against the Toymaker's prisoning fingers. + +"This is not dangerous to you. Press here"--he showed me--"and if Race +Cargill is within a certain distance--and it is up to you to be _within_ +that distance--it will find him, and kill him. Unerringly, inescapably, +untraceably. We will not tell you the critical distance. And we will +give you three days." + +He checked my startled exclamation with a gesture. "Of course this is a +test. Within the hour Cargill will receive a warning. We want no +incompetents who must be helped too much! Nor do we want cowards! If you +fail, or release the bird at a distance too great, or evade the +test"--the green inhuman malice in his eyes made me sweat--"we have made +another bird." + +By now my brain was swimming, but I thought I understood the complex +inhuman logic involved. "The other bird is keyed to me?" + +With slow contempt Evarin shook his head. "You? You are used to danger +and fond of a gamble. Nothing so simple! We have given you three days. +If, within that time, the bird you carry has not killed, the other bird +will fly. And it will kill. Rakhal, you have a wife." + +Yes, Rakhal had a wife. They could threaten Rakhal's wife. And his wife +was my sister Juli. + +Everything after that was anticlimax. Of course I had to drink with +Evarin, the elaborate formal ritual without which no bargain on Wolf is +concluded. He entertained me with gory and technical descriptions of the +way in which the birds, and other of his hellish Toys, did their +killing, and worse tasks. + +Miellyn danced into the room and upset the exquisite solemnity of the +wine-ritual by perching on my knee, stealing a sip from my cup, and +pouting prettily when I paid her less attention than she thought she +merited. I didn't dare pay much attention, even when she whispered, with +the deliberate and thorough wantonness of a Dry-town woman of high-caste +who has flung aside her fetters, something about a rendezvous at the +Three Rainbows. + +But eventually it was over and I stepped through a door that twisted +with a giddy blankness, and found myself outside a bare windowless wall +in Charin again, the night sky starred and cold. The acrid smell of the +Ghost Wind was thinning in the streets, but I had to crouch in a cranny +of the wall when a final rustling horde of Ya-men, the last of their +receding tide, rustled down the street. I found my way to my lodging in +a filthy _chak_ hostel, and threw myself down on the verminous bed. + +Believe it or not, I slept. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +An hour before dawn there was a noise in my room. I roused, my hand on +my skean. Someone or something was fumbling under the mattress where I +had thrust Evarin's bird. I struck out, encountered something warm and +breathing, and grappled with it in the darkness. A foul-smelling +something gripped over my mouth. I tore it away and struck hard with the +skean. There was a high shrilling. The gripping filth loosened and fell +away and something died on the floor. + +I struck a light, retching in revulsion. It hadn't been human. There +wouldn't have been that much blood from a human. Not that color, either. + +The _chak_ who ran the place came and gibbered at me. _Chaks_ have a +horror of blood and this one gave me to understand that my lease was up +then and there, no arguments, no refunds. He wouldn't even let me go +into his stone outbuilding to wash the foul stuff from my shirtcloak. I +gave up and fished under the mattress for Evarin's Toy. + +The _chak_ got a glimpse of the embroideries on the silk in which it was +wrapped, and stood back, his loose furry lips hanging open, while I +gathered my few belongings together and strode out of the room. He would +not touch the coins I offered; I laid them on a chest and he let them +lie there, and as I went into the reddening morning they came flying +after me into the street. + +I pulled the silk from the Toy and tried to make some sense from my +predicament. The little thing lay innocent and silent in my palm. It +wouldn't tell me whether it had been keyed to me, the real Cargill, some +time in the past, or to Rakhal, using my name and reputation in the +Terran Colony here at Charin. + +If I pressed the stud it might play out this comedy of errors by hunting +down Rakhal, and all my troubles would be over. For a while, at least, +until Evarin found out what had happened. I didn't deceive myself that I +could carry the impersonation through another meeting. + +On the other hand, if I pressed the stud, the bird might turn on me. And +then all my troubles would be over for good. + +If I delayed past Evarin's deadline, and did nothing, the other bird in +his keeping would hunt down Juli and give her a swift and not too +painless death. + +I spent most of the day in a _chak_ dive, juggling plans. Toys, innocent +and sinister. Spies, messengers. Toys which killed horribly. Toys which +could be controlled, perhaps, by the pliant mind of a child, and every +child hates its parents now and again! + +Even in the Terran colony, who was safe? In Mack's very home, one of the +Magnusson youngsters had a shiny thing which might, or might not, be one +of Evarin's hellish Toys. Or was I beginning to think like a +superstitious Dry-towner? + +Damn it, Evarin couldn't be infallible; he hadn't even recognized me as +Race Cargill! Or--suddenly the sweat broke out, again, on my +forehead--_or had he_? Had the whole thing been one of those sinister, +deadly and incomprehensible nonhuman jokes? + +I kept coming to the same conclusion. Juli was in danger, but she was +half a world away. Rakhal was here in Charin. There was a child +involved--Juli's child. The first step was to get inside the Terran +colony and see how the land lay. + +Charin is a city shaped like a crescent moon, encircling the small Trade +City: a miniature spaceport, a miniature skyscraper HQ, the clustered +dwellings of the Terrans who worked there, and those who lived with them +and supplied them with necessities, services and luxuries. + +Entry from one to the other is through a guarded gateway, since this is +hostile territory, and Charin lies far beyond the impress of ordinary +Terran law. But the gate stood wide-open, and the guards looked lax and +bored. They had shockers, but they didn't look as if they'd used them +lately. + +One raised an eyebrow at his companion as I shambled up. I could pretty +well guess the impression I made, dirty, unkempt and stained with +nonhuman blood. I asked permission to go into the Terran Zone. + +They asked my name and business, and I toyed with the notion of giving +the name of the man I was inadvertently impersonating. Then I decided +that if Rakhal had passed himself off as Race Cargill, he'd expect +exactly that. And he was also capable of the masterstroke of +impudence--putting out a pickup order, through Spaceforce, for his own +name! + +So I gave the name we'd used from Shainsa to Charin, and tacked one of +the Secret Service passwords on the end of it. They looked at each other +again and one said, "Rascar, eh? This is the guy, all right." He took me +into the little booth by the gate while the other used an intercom +device. Presently they took me along into the HQ building, and into an +office that said "Legate." + +I tried not to panic, but it wasn't easy! Evidently I'd walked square +into another trap. One guard asked me, "All right, now, what exactly is +your business in the Trade City?" + +I'd hoped to locate Rakhal first. Now I knew I'd have no chance and at +all costs I must straighten out this matter of identity before it went +any further. + +"Put me straight through to Magnusson's office, Level 38 at Central HQ, +by visi," I demanded. I was trying to remember if Mack had ever even +heard the name we used in Shainsa. I decided I couldn't risk it. "Name +of Race Cargill." + +The guard grinned without moving. He said to his partner, "That's the +one, all right." He put a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. + +"Haul off, man. Shake your boots." + +There were two of them, and Spaceforce guards aren't picked for their +good looks. Just the same, I gave a pretty good account of myself until +the inner door opened and a man came storming out. + +"What the devil is all this racket?" + +One guard got a hammerlock on me. "This Dry-towner bum tried to talk us +into making a priority call to Magnusson, the Chief at Central. He knew +a couple of the S.S. passwords. That's what got him through the gate. +Remember, Cargill passed the word that somebody would turn up trying to +impersonate him." + +"I remember." The strange man's eyes were wary and cold. + +"You damned fools," I snarled. "Magnusson will identify me! Can't you +realize you're dealing with an impostor?" + +One of the guards said to the legate in an undertone, "Maybe we ought to +hold him as a suspicious character." But the legate shook his head. "Not +worth the trouble. Cargill said it was a private affair. You might +search him, make sure he's not concealing contraband weapons," he added, +and talked softly to the wide-eyed clerk in the background while the +guards went through my shirtcloak and pockets. + +When they started to unwrap the silk-shrouded Toy I yelled--if the thing +got set off accidentally, there'd be trouble. The legate turned and +rebuked, "Can't you see it's embroidered with the Toad God? It's a +religious amulet of some sort, let it alone." + +They grumbled, but gave it back to me, and the legate commanded, "Don't +mess him up any more. Give him back his knife and take him to the gates. +But make sure he doesn't come back." + +I found myself seized and frog-marched to the gate. One guard pushed my +skean back into its clasp. The other shoved me hard, and I stumbled, +fell sprawling in the dust of the cobbled street, to the accompaniment +of a profane statement about what I could expect if I came back. A +chorus of jeers from a cluster of _chak_ children and veiled women broke +across me. + +I picked myself up, glowered so fiercely at the giggling spectators that +the laughter drained away into silence, and clenched my fists, half +inclined to turn back and bull my way through. Then I subsided. First +round to Rakhal. He had sprung the trap on me, very neatly. + +The street was narrow and crooked, winding between doubled rows of +pebble-houses, and full of dark shadows even in the crimson noon. I +walked aimlessly, favoring the arm the guard had crushed. I was no +closer to settling things with Rakhal, and I had slammed at least one +gate behind me. + +Why hadn't I had sense enough to walk up and demand to _see_ Race +Cargill? Why hadn't I insisted on a fingerprint check? I could prove my +identity, and Rakhal, using my name in my absence, to those who didn't +know me by sight, couldn't. I could at least have made him try. But he +had maneuvered it very cleverly, so I never had a chance to insist on +proofs. + +I turned into a wineshop and ordered a dram of greenish mountainberry +liquor, sipping it slowly and fingering the few bills and coins in my +pockets. I'd better forget about warning Juli. I couldn't 'vise her from +Charin, except in the Terran zone. I had neither the money nor the time +to make the trip in person, even if I could get passage on a +Terran-dominated airline after today. + +Miellyn. She had flirted with me, and like Dallisa, she might prove +vulnerable. It might be another trap, but I'd take the chance. At least +I could get hints about Evarin. And I needed information. I wasn't used +to this kind of intrigue any more. The smell of danger was foreign to me +now, and I found it unpleasant. + +The small lump of the bird in my pocket tantalized me. I took it out +again. It was a temptation to press the stud and let it settle things, +or at least start them going, then and there. + +After a while I noticed the proprietors of the shop staring at the silk +of the wrappings. They backed off, apprehensive. I held out a coin and +they shook their heads. "You are welcome to the drink," one of them +said. "All we have is at your service. Only please go. Go quickly." + +They would not touch the coins I offered. I thrust the bird in my +pocket, swore and went. It was my second experience with being somehow +tabu, and I didn't like it. + +It was dusk when I realized I was being followed. + +At first it was a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, a head seen too +frequently for coincidence. It developed into a too-persistent footstep +in uneven rhythm. + +Tap-_tap_-tap. Tap-_tap_-tap. + +I had my skean handy, but I had a hunch this wasn't anything I could +settle with a skean. I ducked into a side street and waited. + +Nothing. + +I went on, laughing at my imagined fears. + +Then, after a time, the soft, persistent footfall thudded behind me +again. + +I cut across a thieves market, dodging from stall to stall, cursed by +old women selling hot fried goldfish, women in striped veils railing at +me in their chiming talk when I brushed their rolled rugs with hasty +feet. Far behind I heard the familiar uneven hurry: tap-_tap_-tap, +tap-_tap_-tap. + +I fled down a street where women sat on flower-decked balconies, their +open lanterns flowing with fountains and rivulets of gold and orange +fire. I raced through quiet streets where furred children crept to doors +and watched me pass with great golden eyes that shone in the dark. + +I dodged into an alley and lay there, breathing hard. Someone not two +inches away said, "Are you one of us, brother?" + +I muttered something surly, in his dialect, and a hand, reassuringly +human, closed on my elbow. "This way." + +Out of breath with long running, I let him lead me, meaning to break +away after a few steps, apologize for mistaken identity and vanish, when +a sound at the end of the street made me jerk stiff and listen. + +Tap-_tap_-tap. Tap-_tap_-tap. + +I let my arm relax in the hand that guided me, flung a fold of my +shirtcloak over my face, and went along with my unknown guide. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +I stumbled over steps, took a jolting stride downward, and found myself +in a dim room jammed with dark figures, human and nonhuman. + +The figures swayed in the darkness, chanting in a dialect not altogether +familiar to me, a monotonous wailing chant, with a single recurrent +phrase: "Kamaina! Kama-aina!" It began on a high note, descending in +weird chromatics to the lowest tone the human ear could resolve. + +The sound made me draw back. Even the Dry-towners shunned the orgiastic +rituals of Kamaina. Earthmen have a reputation for getting rid of the +more objectionable customs--by human standards--on any planet where they +live. But they don't touch religions, and Kamaina, on the surface +anyhow, was a religion. + +I started to turn round and leave, as if I had inadvertently walked +through the wrong door, but my conductor hauled on my arm, and I was +wedged in too tight by now to risk a roughhouse. Trying to force my way +out would only have called attention to me, and the first of the Secret +Service maxims is; when in doubt, go along, keep quiet, and watch the +other guy. + +As my eyes adapted to the dim light, I saw that most of the crowd were +Charin plainsmen or _chaks_. One or two wore Dry-town shirtcloaks, and I +even thought I saw an Earthman in the crowd, though I was never sure and +I fervently hope not. They were squatting around small crescent-shaped +tables, and all intently gazing at a flickery spot of light at the front +of the cellar. I saw an empty place at one table and dropped there, +finding the floor soft, as if cushioned. + +On each table, small smudging pastilles were burning, and from these +cones of ash-tipped fire came the steamy, swimmy smoke that filled the +darkness with strange colors. Beside me an immature _chak_ girl was +kneeling, her fettered hands strained tightly back at her sides, her +naked breasts pierced for jeweled rings. + +Beneath the pallid fur around her pointed ears, the exquisite animal +face was quite mad. She whispered to me, but her dialect was so thick +that I could follow only a few words, and would just as soon not have +heard those few. An older _chak_ grunted for silence and she subsided, +swaying and crooning. + +There were cups and decanters on all the tables, and a woman tilted +pale, phosphorescent fluid into a cup and offered it to me. I took one +sip, then another. It was cold and pleasantly tart, and not until the +second swallow turned sweet on my tongue did I know what I tasted. I +pretended to swallow while the woman's eyes were fixed on me, then +somehow contrived to spill the filthy stuff down my shirt. + +I was wary even of the fumes, but there was nothing else I could do. The +stuff was _shallavan_, outlawed on every planet in the Terran Empire and +every halfway decent planet outside it. + +More and more figures, men and creatures, kept crowding into the cellar, +which was not very large. The place looked like the worst nightmare of a +drug-dreamer, ablaze with the colors of the smoking incense, the swaying +crowd, and their monotonous cries. Quite suddenly there was a blaze of +purple light and someone screamed in raving ecstasy: "_Na ki na Nebran +n'hai Kamaina!_" + +"Kamayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena!" shrilled the tranced mob. + +An old man jumped up and started haranguing the crowd. I could just +follow his dialect. He was talking about Terra. He was talking about +riots. He was jabbering mystical gibberish which I couldn't understand +and didn't want to understand, and rabble-rousing anti-Terran propaganda +which I understood much too well. + +Another blaze of lights and another long scream in chorus: +"Kamayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena!" + +Evarin stood in the blaze of the many-colored light. + +The Toymaker, as I had seen him last, cat-smooth, gracefully alien, +shrouded in a ripple of giddy crimsons. Behind him was a blackness. I +waited till the painful blaze of lights abated, then, straining my eyes +to see past him, I got my worst shock. + +A woman stood there, naked to the waist, her hands ritually fettered +with little chains that stirred and clashed musically as she moved +stiff-legged in a frozen dream. Hair like black grass banded her brow +and naked shoulders, and her eyes were crimson. + +And the eyes lived in the dead dreaming face. They lived, and they were +mad with terror although the lips curved in a gently tranced smile. + +Miellyn. + +Evarin was speaking in that dialect I barely understood. His arms were +flung high and his cloak went spilling away from them, rippling like +something alive. The jammed humans and nonhumans swayed and chanted and +he swayed above them like an iridescent bug, weaving arms rippling back +and forth, back and forth. I strained to catch his words. + +"Our world ... an old world." + +"Kamayeeeeena," whimpered the shrill chorus. + +"... humans, humans, all humans would make slaves of us all, all save +the Children of the Ape...." + +I lost the thread for a moment. True. The Terran Empire has one small +blind spot in otherwise sane policy, ignoring that nonhuman and human +have lived placidly here for millennia: they placidly assumed that +humans were everywhere the dominant race, as on Earth itself. + +The Toymaker's weaving arms went on spinning, spinning. I rubbed my eyes +to clear them of _shallavan_ and incense. I hoped that what I saw was an +illusion of the drug--something, something huge and dark, was hovering +over the girl. She stood placidly, hands clasped on her chains, but her +eyes writhed in the frozen calm of her face. + +Then something--I can only call it a sixth sense--bore it on me that +there was _someone_ outside the door. I was perhaps the only creature +there, except for Evarin, not drugged with _shallavan_, and perhaps +that's all it was. But during the days in the Secret Service I'd had to +develop some extra senses. Five just weren't enough for survival. + +I _knew_ somebody was fixing to break down that door, and I had a good +idea why. I'd been followed, by the legate's orders, and, tracking me +here, they'd gone away and brought back reinforcements. + +Someone struck a blow on the door and a stentorian voice bawled, "Open +up there, in the name of the Empire!" + +The chanting broke in ragged quavers. Evarin stopped. Somewhere a woman +screamed. The lights abruptly went out and a stampede started in the +room. Women struck me with chains, men kicked, there were shrieks and +howls. I thrust my way forward, butting with elbows and knees and +shoulders. + +A dusky emptiness yawned and I got a glimpse of sunlight and open sky +and knew that Evarin had stepped through into _somewhere_ and was gone. +The banging on the door sounded like a whole regiment of Spaceforce out +there. I dived toward the shimmer of little stars which marked Miellyn's +tiara in the darkness, braving the black horror hovering over her, and +touched rigid girl-flesh, cold as death. + +I grabbed her and ducked sideways. This time it wasn't intuition--nine +times out of ten, anyway, intuition is just a mental shortcut which adds +up all the things which your subconscious has noticed while you were +busy thinking about something else. Every native building on Wolf had +concealed entrances and exits and I know where to look for them. This +one was exactly where I expected. I pushed at it and found myself in a +long, dim corridor. + +The head of a woman peered from an opening door. She saw Miellyn's limp +body hanging on my arm and her mouth widened in a silent scream. Then +the head popped back out of sight and a door slammed. I heard the bolt +slide. I ran for the end of the hall, the girl in my arms, thinking that +this was where I came in, as far as Miellyn was concerned, and wondering +why I bothered. + +The door opened on a dark, peaceful street. One lonely moon was setting +beyond the rooftops. I set Miellyn on her feet, but she moaned and +crumpled against me. I put my shirtcloak around her bare shoulders. +Judging by the noises and yells, we'd gotten out just in time. No one +came out the exit behind us. Either the Spaceforce had plugged it or, +more likely, everyone else in the cellar had been too muddled by drugs +to know what was going on. + +But it was only a few minutes, I knew, before Spaceforce would check the +whole building for concealed escape holes. Suddenly, and irrelevantly, I +found myself thinking of a day not too long ago, when I'd stood up in +front of a unit-in-training of Spaceforce, introduced to them as an +Intelligence expert on native towns, and solemnly warned them about +concealed exits and entrances. I wondered, for half a minute, if it +might not be simpler just to wait here and let them pick me up. + +Then I hoisted Miellyn across my shoulders. She was heavier than she +looked, and after a minute, half conscious, she began to struggle and +moan. There was a _chak_-run cookshop down the street, a place I'd once +known well, with an evil reputation and worse food, but it was quiet and +stayed open all night. I turned in at the door, bending at the low +lintel. + +The place was smoke-filled and foul-smelling. I dumped Miellyn on a +couch and sent the frowsy waiter for two bowls of noodles and coffee, +handed him a few extra coins, and told him to leave us alone. He +probably drew the worst possible inference--I saw his muzzle twitch at +the smell of _shallavan_--but it was that kind of place anyhow. He drew +down the shutters and went. + +I stared at the unconscious girl, then shrugged and started on the +noodles. My own head was still swimmy with the fumes, incense and drug, +and I wanted it clear. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do, but +I had Evarin's right-hand girl, and I was going to use her. + +The noodles were greasy and had a curious taste, but they were hot, and +I ate all of one bowl before Miellyn stirred and whimpered and put up +one hand, with a little clinking of chains, to her hair. The gesture was +indefinably reminiscent of Dallisa, and for the first time I saw the +likeness between them. It made me wary and yet curiously softened. + +Finding she could not move freely, she rolled over, sat up and stared +around in growing bewilderment and dismay. + +"There was a sort of riot," I said. "I got you out. Evarin ditched you. +And you can quit thinking what you're thinking, I put my shirtcloak on +you because you were bare to the waist and it didn't look so good." I +stopped to think that over, and amended: "I mean I couldn't haul you +around the streets that way. It looked good enough." + +To my surprise, she gave a shaky little giggle, and held out her +fettered hands. "Will you?" + +I broke her links and freed her. She rubbed her wrists as if they hurt +her, then drew up her draperies, pinned them so that she was decently +covered, and tossed back my shirtcloak. Her eyes were wide and soft in +the light of the flickering stub of candle. + +"O, Rakhal," she sighed. "When I saw you there--" She sat up, clasping +her hands hard together, and when she continued her voice was curiously +cold and controlled for anyone so childish. It was almost as cold as +Dallisa's. + +"If you've come from Kyral, I'm not going back. I'll never go back, and +you may as well know it." + +"I don't come from Kyral, and I don't care where you go. I don't care +what you do." I suddenly realized that the last statement was wholly +untrue, and to cover my confusion I shoved the remaining bowl of noodles +at her. + +"Eat." + +She wrinkled her nose in fastidious disgust. "I'm not hungry." + +"Eat it anyway. You're still half doped, and the food will clear your +head." I picked up one mug of the coffee and drained it at a single +swallow. "What were you doing in that disgusting den?" + +Without warning she flung herself across the table at me, throwing her +arms round my neck. Startled, I let her cling a moment, then reached up +and firmly unfastened her hands. + +"None of that now. I fell for it once, and it landed me in the middle of +the mudpie." + +But her fingers bit my shoulder. + +"Rakhal, Rakhal, I tried to get away and find you. Have you still got +the bird? You haven't set it off yet? Oh, don't, don't, don't, Rakhal, +you don't know what Evarin is, you don't know what he's doing." The +words spilled out of her like floodwaters. "He's won so many of you, +don't let him have you too, Rakhal. They call you an honest man, you +worked once for Terra, the Terrans would believe you if you went to them +and told them what he--Rakhal, take me to the Terran Zone, take me +there, take me there where they'll protect me from Evarin." + +At first I tried to stop her, question her, then waited and let the +torrent of entreaty run on and on. At last, exhausted and breathless, +she lay quietly against my shoulder, her head fallen forward. The musty +reek of _shallavan_ mingled with the flower scent of her hair. + +"Kid," I said heavily at last, "you and your Toymaker have both got me +wrong. I'm not Rakhal Sensar." + +"You're not?" She drew back, regarding me in dismay. Her eyes searched +every inch of me, from the gray streak across my forehead to the scar +running down into my collar. "Then who--" + +"Race Cargill. Terran Intelligence." + +She stared, her mouth wide like a child's. + +Then she laughed. She _laughed_! At first I thought she was hysterical. +I stared at her in consternation. Then, as her wide eyes met mine, with +all the mischief of the nonhuman which has mingled into the human here, +all the circular complexities of Wolf illogic behind the woman in them, +I started to laugh too. + +I threw back my head and roared, until we were clinging together and +gasping with mirth like a pair of raving fools. The _chak_ waiter came +to the door and stared at us, and I roared "Get the hell out," between +spasms of crazy laughter. + +Then she was wiping her face, tears of mirth still dripping down her +cheeks, and I was frowning bleakly into the empty bowls. + +"Cargill," she said hesitantly, "you can take me to the Terrans where +Rakhal--" + +"Hell's bells," I exploded. "I can't take you anywhere, girl. I've got +to find Rakhal--" I stopped in midsentence and looked at her clearly for +the first time. + +"Child, I'll see that you're protected, if I can. But I'm afraid you've +walked from the trap to the cookpot. There isn't a house in Charin that +will hold me. I've been thrown out twice today." + +She nodded. "I don't know how the word spreads, but it happens, in +nonhuman parts. I think they can see trouble written in a human face, or +smell it on the wind." She fell silent, her face propped sleepily +between her hands, her hair falling in tangles. I took one of her hands +in mine and turned it over. + +It was a fine hand, with birdlike bones and soft rose-tinted nails; but +the lines and hardened places around the knuckles reminded me that she, +too, came from the cold austerity of the salt Dry-towns. After a moment +she flushed and drew her hand from mine. + +"What are you thinking, Cargill?" she asked, and for the first time I +heard her voice sobered, without the coquetry, which must after all have +been a very thin veneer. + +I answered her simply and literally. "I am thinking of Dallisa. I +thought you were very different, and yet, I see that you are very like +her." + +I thought she would question what I knew of her sister, but she let it +pass in silence. After a time she said, "Yes, we were twins." Then, +after a long silence, she added, "But she was always much the older." + +And that was all I ever knew of whatever obscure pressures had shaped +Dallisa into an austere and tragic Clytemnestra, and Miellyn into a +pixie runaway. + +Outside the drawn shutters, dawn was brightening. Miellyn shivered, +drawing her thin draperies around her bare throat. I glanced at the +little rim of jewels that starred her hair and said, "You'd better take +those off and hide them. They alone would be enough to have you hauled +into an alley and strangled, in this part of Charin." I hauled the bird +Toy from my pocket and slapped it on the greasy table, still wrapped in +its silk. "I don't suppose you know which of us this thing is set to +kill?" + +"I know nothing about the Toys." + +"You seem to know plenty about the Toymaker." + +"I thought so. Until last night." I looked at the rigid, clamped mouth +and thought that if she were really as soft and delicate as she looked, +she would have wept. Then she struck her small hand on the tabletop and +burst out, "It's not a religion. It isn't even an honest movement for +freedom! Its a--a front for smuggling, and drugs, and--and every other +filthy thing! + +"Believe it or not, when I left Shainsa, I thought Nebran was the answer +to the way the Terrans were strangling us! Now I know there are worse +things on Wolf than the Terran Empire! I've heard of Rakhal Sensar, and +whatever you may think of Rakhal, he's too decent to be mixed up in +anything like this!" + +"Suppose you tell me what's really going on," I suggested. She couldn't +add much to what I knew already, but the last fragments of the pattern +were beginning to settle into place. Rakhal, seeking the matter +transmitter and some key to the nonhuman sciences of Wolf--I knew now +what the city of Silent Ones had reminded me of!--had somehow crossed +the path of the Toymaker. + +Evarin's words now made sense: "_You were clever at evading our +surveillance--for a while._" Possibly, though I'd never know, Cuinn had +been keeping one foot in each camp, working for Kyral and for Evarin. +The Toymaker, knowing of Rakhal's anti-Terran activities, had believed +he would make a valuable ally and had taken steps to secure his help. + +Juli herself had given me the clue: "_He smashed Rindy's Toys._" Out of +the context it sounded like the work of a madman. Now, having +encountered Evarin's workshop, it made plain good sense. + +And I think I had known all along that Rakhal could not have been +playing Evarin's game. He might have turned against Terra--though now I +was beginning even to doubt that--and certainly he'd have killed me if +he found me. But he would have done it himself, and without malice. +_Killed without malice_--that doesn't make sense in any of the +languages of Terra. But it made sense to me. + +Miellyn had finished her brief recitation and was drowsing, her head +pillowed on the table. The reddish light was growing, and I realized +that I was waiting for dawn as, days ago, I had waited for sunset in +Shainsa, with every nerve stretched to the breaking point. It was dawn +of the third morning, and this bird lying on the table before me must +fly or, far away in the Kharsa, another would fly at Juli. + +I said, "There's some distance limitation on this one, I understand, +since I have to be fairly near its object. If I lock it in a steel box +and drop it in the desert, I'll guarantee it won't bother anybody. I +don't suppose you'd have a shot at stealing the other one for me?" + +She raised her head, eyes flashing. "Why should you worry about Rakhal's +wife?" she flared, and for no good reason it occurred to me that she was +jealous. "I might have known Evarin wouldn't shoot in the dark! Rakhal's +wife, that Earthwoman, what do you care for her?" + +It seemed important to set her straight. I explained that Juli was my +sister, and saw a little of the tension fade from her face, but not all. +Remembering the custom of the Dry-towns, I was not wholly surprised when +she added, jealously, "When I heard of your feud, I guessed it was over +that woman!" + +"But not in the way you think," I said. Juli had been part of it, +certainly. Even then I had not wanted her to turn her back on her world, +but if Rakhal had remained with Terra, I would have accepted his +marriage to Juli. Accepted it. I'd have rejoiced. God knows we had been +closer than brothers, those years in the Dry-towns. And then, before +Miellyn's flashing eyes, I suddenly faced my secret hate, my secret +fear. No, the quarrel had not been all Rakhal's doing. + +He had not turned his back, unexplained on Terra. In some unrecognized +fashion, I had done my best to drive him away. And when he had gone, I +had banished a part of myself as well, and thought I could end the +struggle by saying it didn't exist. And now, facing what I had done to +all of us, I knew that my revenge--so long sought, so dearly +cherished--must be abandoned. + +"We still have to deal with the bird," I said. "It's a gamble, with all +the cards wild." I could dismantle it, and trust to luck that Wolf +illogic didn't include a tamper mechanism. But that didn't seem worth +the risk. + +"First I've got to _find_ Rakhal. If I set the bird free and it killed +him, it wouldn't settle anything." For I could not kill Rakhal. Not, +now, because I knew life would be a worse punishment than death. But +because--I knew it, now--if Rakhal died, Juli would die, too. And if I +killed him I'd be killing the best part of myself. Somehow Rakhal and I +must strike a balance between our two worlds, and try to build a new one +from them. + +"And I can't sit here and talk any longer. I haven't time to take you--" +I stopped, remembering the spaceport cafe at the edge of the Kharsa. +There was a street-shrine, or matter transmitter, right there, across +the street from the Terran HQ. _All these years...._ + +"You know your way in the transmitters. You can go there in a second or +two." She could warn Juli, tell Magnusson. But when I suggested this, +giving her a password that would take her straight to the top, she +turned white. "All jumps have to be made through the Mastershrine." + +I stopped and thought about that. + +"Where is Evarin likely to be, right now?" + +She gave a nervous shudder. "He's everywhere!" + +"Rubbish! He's not omniscient! Why, you little fool, he didn't even +recognize me. He thought I was Rakhal!" I wasn't too sure, myself, but +Miellyn needed reassurance. "Or take _me_ to the Mastershrine. I can +find Rakhal in that scanning device of Evarin's." I saw refusal in her +face and pushed on, "If Evarin's there, I'll prove he's fallible enough +with a skean in his throat! And here"--I thrust the Toy into her +hand--"hang on to this, will you?" + +She put it matter-of-factly into her draperies. "I don't mind that. But +to the shrine--" Her voice quivered, and I stood up and pushed at the +table. + +"Let's get going. Where's the nearest street-shrine?" + +"No, no! Oh, I don't dare!" + +"You've got to." I saw the _chak_ who owned the place edging round the +door again and said, "There's no use arguing, Miellyn." When she had +readjusted her robes a little while ago, she had pinned them so that +the flat sprawl of the Nebran embroideries was over her breasts. I put a +finger against them, not in a sensuous gesture, and said, "The minute +they see these, they'll throw us out of here, too." + +"If you knew what I know of Nebran, you wouldn't _want_ me to go near +the Mastershrine again!" There was that faint coquettishness in her +sidewise smile. + +And suddenly I realized that I didn't want her to. But she was not +Dallisa and she could not sit in cold dignity while her world fell into +ruin. Miellyn must fight for the one she wanted. + +And then some of that primitive male hostility which lives in every man +came to the surface, and I gripped her arm until she whimpered. Then I +said, in the Shainsan which still comes to my tongue when moved or +angry, "Damn it, you're _going_. Have you forgotten that if it weren't +for me you'd have been torn to pieces by that raving mob, or something +worse?" + +That did it. She pulled away and I saw again, beneath the veneer of +petulant coquetry, that fierce and untamable insolence of the +Dry-towner. The more fierce and arrogant, in this girl, because she had +burst her fettered hands free and shaken off the ruin of the past. + +I was seized with a wildly inappropriate desire to seize her, crush her +in my arms, taste the red honey of that teasing mouth. The effort of +mastering the impulse made me rough. + +I shoved at her and said, "Come on. Let's get there before Evarin does." + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +Outside in the streets it was full day, and the color and life of Charin +had subsided into listlessness again, a dim morning dullness and +silence. Only a few men lounged wearily in the streets, as if the sun +had sapped their energy. And always the pale fleecy-haired children, +human and furred nonhuman, played their mysterious games on the curbs +and gutters and staring at us with neither curiosity nor malice. + +Miellyn was shaking when she set her feet into the patterned stones of +the street-shrine. + +"Scared, Miellyn?" + +"I know Evarin. You don't. But"--her mouth twitched in a pitiful attempt +at the old mischief--"when I am with a great and valorous Earthman...." + +"Cut it out," I growled, and she giggled. "You'll have to stand closer +to me. The transmitters are meant only for one person." + +I stooped and put my arms round her. "Like this?" + +"Like this," she whispered, pressing herself against me. A staggering +whirl of dizzy darkness swung round my head. The street vanished. After +an instant the floor steadied and we stepped into the terminal room in +the Mastershrine, under a skylight dim with the last red slant of +sunset. Distant hammering noises rang in my ears. + +Miellyn whispered, "Evarin's not here, but he might jump through at any +second." I wasn't listening. + +"Where is this place, Miellyn? Where on the planet?" + +"No one knows but Evarin, I think. There are no doors. Anyone who goes +in or out, jumps through the transmitter." She pointed. "The scanning +device is in there, we'll have to go through the workroom." + +She was patting her crushed robes into place, smoothing her hair with +fastidious fingers. "I don't suppose you have a comb? I've no time to go +to my own--" + +I'd known she was a vain and pampered brat, but this passed all reason, +and I said so, exploding at her. She looked at me as if I wasn't quite +intelligent. "The Little Ones, my friend, notice things. You are quite +enough of a roughneck, but if I, Nebran's priestess, walk through their +workroom all blown about and looking like the tag end of an orgy in +Ardcarran...." + +Abashed, I fished in a pocket and offered her a somewhat battered pocket +comb. She looked at it distastefully but used it to good purpose, +smoothing her hair swiftly, rearranging her loose-pinned robe so that +the worst of the tears and stains were covered, and giving me, +meanwhile, an artless and rather tempting view of some delicious +curvature. She replaced the starred tiara on her ringlets and finally +opened the door of the workroom and we walked through. + +Not for years had I known that particular sensation--thousands of eyes, +boring holes in the center of my back somewhere. There _were_ eyes; the +round inhuman orbs of the dwarf _chaks_, the faceted stare of the prism +eyes of the Toys. The workroom wasn't a hundred feet long, but it felt +longer than a good many miles I've walked. Here and there the dwarfs +murmured an obsequious greeting to Miellyn, and she made some +lighthearted answer. + +She had warned me to walk as if I had every right to be there, and I +strode after her as if we were simply going to an agreed-on meeting in +the next room. But I was drenched with cold sweat before the farther +door finally closed, safe and blessedly opaque, behind us. Miellyn, too, +was shaking with fright, and I put a hand on her arm. + +"Steady, kid. Where's the scanner?" + +She touched the panel I'd seen. "I'm not sure I can focus it accurately. +Evarin never let me touch it." + +This was a fine time to tell me that. "How does it work?" + +"It's an adaptation of the transmitter principle. It lets you see +anywhere, but without jumping. It uses a tracer mechanism like the one +in the Toys. If Rakhal's electrical-impulse pattern were on file--just a +minute." She fished out the bird Toy and unwrapped it. "Here's how we +find out which of you this is keyed to." + +I looked at the fledgling bird, lying innocently in her palm, as she +pushed aside the feathers, exposing a tiny crystal. "If it's keyed to +you, you'll see yourself in this, as if the screen were a mirror. If +it's keyed to Rakhal...." + +She touched the crystal to the surface of the screen. Little flickers of +snow wavered and danced. Then, abruptly, we were looking down from a +height at the lean back of a man in a leather jacket. Slowly he turned. +I saw the familiar set of his shoulders, saw the back of his head come +into an aquiline profile, and the profile turn slowly into a scarred, +seared mask more hideously claw-marked and disfigured than my own. + +"Rakhal," I muttered. "Shift the focus if you can, Miellyn, get a look +out the window or something. Charin's a big city. If we could get a look +at a landmark--" + +Rakhal was talking soundlessly, his lips moving as he spoke to someone +out of sight range of the scanning device. Abruptly Miellyn said, +"There." She had caught a window in the sight field of the pane. I could +see a high pylon and two of three uprights that looked like a bridge, +just outside. I said, "It's the Bridge of Summer Snows. I know where he +is now. Turn it off, Miellyn, we can find him--" I was turning away when +Miellyn screamed. + +"Look!" + +Rakhal had turned his back on the scanner and for the first time I could +see who he was talking to. A hunched, catlike shoulder twisted; a +sinuous neck, a high-held head that was not quite human. + +"Evarin!" I swore. "That does it. He knows now that I'm not Rakhal, if +he didn't know it all along! Come on, girl, we're getting out of here!" + +This time there was no pretense of normality as we dashed through the +workroom. Fingers dropped from half-completed Toys as they stared after +us. _Toys!_ I wanted to stop and smash them all. But if we hurried, we +might find Rakhal. And, with luck, we would find Evarin with him. + +And then I was going to bang their heads together. I'd reached a +saturation point on adventure. I'd had all I wanted. I realized that I'd +been up all night, that I was exhausted. I wanted to murder and smash, +and wanted to fall down somewhere and go to sleep, all at once. We +banged the workroom door shut and I took time to shove a heavy divan +against it, blockading it. + +Miellyn stared. "The Little Ones would not harm me," she began. "I am +sacrosanct." + +I wasn't sure. I had a notion her status had changed plenty, beginning +when I saw her chained and drugged, and standing under the hovering +horror. But I didn't say so. + +"Maybe. But there's nothing sacred about _me_!" + +She was already inside the recess where the Toad God squatted. "There is +a street-shrine just beyond the Bridge of Summer Snows. We can jump +directly there." Abruptly she froze in my arms, with a convulsive +shudder. + +"Evarin! Hold me, tight--he's jumping in! Quick!" + +Space reeled round us, and then.... + +Can you split instantaneousness into fragments? It didn't make sense, +but so help me, that's what happened. And everything that happened, +occurred within less than a second. We landed in the street-shrine. I +could see the pylon and the bridge and the rising sun of Charin. Then +there was the giddy internal wrenching, a blast of icy air whistled +round us, and we were gazing out at the Polar mountains, ringed in their +eternal snow. + +Miellyn clutched at me. "Pray! Pray to the Gods of Terra, if there are +any!" + +She clung so violently that it felt as if her small body was trying to +push through me and come out the other side. I hung on tight. Miellyn +knew what she was doing in the transmitter; I was just along for the +ride and I didn't relish the thought of being dropped off somewhere in +that black limbo we traversed. + +We jumped again, the sickness of disorientation forcing a moan from the +girl, and darkness shivered round us. I looked on an unfamiliar street +of black night and dust-bleared stars. She whimpered, "Evarin knows what +I'm doing. He's jumping us all over the planet. He can work the controls +with his mind. Psychokinetics--I can do it a little, but I never +dared--oh, hang on _tight_!" + +Then began one of the most amazing duels ever fought. Miellyn would make +some tiny movement, and we would be falling, blind and dizzy, through +blackness. Halfway through the giddiness, a new direction would wrench +us and we would be thrust elsewhere, and look out into a new street. + +One instant I smelled hot coffee from the spaceport cafe near the +Kharsa. An instant later it was blinding noon, with crimson fronds +waving above us and a dazzle of water. We flicked in and out of the +salty air of Shainsa, glimpsed flowers on a Daillon street, moonlight, +noon, red twilight flickered and went, shot through with the terrible +giddiness of hyperspace. + +Then suddenly I caught a second glimpse of the bridge and the pylon; a +moment's oversight had landed us for an instant in Charin. The blackness +started to reel down, but my reflexes are fast and I made one swift, +scrabbling step forward. We lurched, sprawled, locked together, on the +stones of the Bridge of Summer Snows. Battered, and bruised, and +bloody, we were still alive, and where we wanted to be. + +I lifted Miellyn to her feet. Her eyes were dazed with pain. The ground +swayed and rocked under our feet as we fled along the bridge. At the far +end, I looked up at the pylon. Judging from its angle, we couldn't be +more than a hundred feet from the window through which I'd seen that +landmark in the scanner. In this street there was a wineshop, a silk +market, and a small private house. I walked up and banged on the door. + +Silence. I knocked again and had time to wonder if we'd find ourselves +explaining things to some uninvolved stranger. Then I heard a child's +high voice, and a deep familiar voice hushing it. The door opened, just +a crack, to reveal part of a scarred face. + +It drew into a hideous grin, then relaxed. + +"I thought it might be you, Cargill. You've taken at least three days +longer than I figured, getting here. Come on in," said Rakhal Sensar. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +He hadn't changed much in six years. His face _was_ worse than mine; he +hadn't had the plastic surgeons of Terran Intelligence doing their best +for him. His mouth, I thought fleetingly, must hurt like hell when he +drew it up into the kind of grin he was grinning now. His eyebrows, +thick and fierce with gray in them, went up as he saw Miellyn; but he +backed away to let us enter, and shut the door behind us. + +The room was bare and didn't look as if it had been lived in much. The +floor was stone, rough-laid, a single fur rug laid before a brazier. A +little girl was sitting on the rug, drinking from a big double-handled +mug, but she scrambled to her feet as we came in, and backed against the +wall, looking at us with wide eyes. + +She had pale-red hair like Juli's, cut straight in a fringe across her +forehead, and she was dressed in a smock of dyed red fur that almost +matched her hair. A little smear of milk like a white moustache clung to +her upper lip where she had forgotten to wipe her mouth. She was about +five years old, with deep-set dark eyes like Juli's, that watched me +gravely without surprise or fear; she evidently knew who I was. + +"Rindy," Rakhal said quietly, not taking his eyes from me. "Go into the +other room." + +Rindy didn't move, still staring at me. Then she moved toward Miellyn, +looking up intently not at the woman, but at the pattern of embroideries +across her dress. It was very quiet, until Rakhal added, in a gentle and +curiously moderate voice, "Do you still carry a skean, Race?" + +I shook my head. "There's an ancient proverb on Terra, about blood being +thicker than water, Rakhal. That's Juli's daughter. I'm not going to +kill her father right before her eyes." My rage spilled over then, and I +bellowed, "To hell with your damned Dry-town feuds and your filthy Toad +God and all the rest of it!" + +Rakhal said harshly, "Rindy. I told you to get out." + +"She needn't go." I took a step toward the little girl, a wary eye on +Rakhal. "I don't know quite what you're up to, but it's nothing for a +child to be mixed up in. Do what you damn please. I can settle with you +any time. + +"The first thing is to get Rindy out of here. She belongs with Juli and, +damn it, that's where she's going." I held out my arms to the little +girl and said, "It's over, Rindy, whatever he's done to you. Your mother +sent me to find you. Don't you want to go to your mother?" + +Rakhal made a menacing gesture and warned, "I wouldn't--" + +Miellyn darted swiftly between us and caught up the child in her arms. +Rindy began to struggle noiselessly, kicking and whimpering, but Miellyn +took two quick steps, and flung an inner door open. Rakhal took a stride +toward her. She whirled on him, fighting to control the furious little +girl, and gasped, "Settle it between you, without the baby watching!" + +Through the open door I briefly saw a bed, a child's small dresses +hanging on a hook, before Miellyn kicked the door shut and I heard a +latch being fastened. Behind the closed door Rindy broke into angry +screams, but I put my back against the door. + +"She's right. We'll settle it between the two of us. What have you done +to that child?" + +"If you thought--" Rakhal stopped himself in midsentence and stood +watching me without moving for a minute. Then he laughed. + +"You're as stupid as ever, Race. Why, you fool, I knew Juli would run +straight to you, if she was scared enough. I knew it would bring you out +of hiding. Why, you damned fool!" He stood mocking me, but there was a +strained fury, almost a frenzy of contempt behind the laughter. + +"You filthy coward, Race! Six years hiding in the Terran zone. Six +years, and I gave you six months! If you'd had the guts to walk out +after me, after I rigged that final deal to give you the chance, we +could have gone after the biggest thing on Wolf. And we could have +brought it off together, instead of spending years spying and dodging +and hunting! And now, when I finally get you out of hiding, all you want +to do is run back where you'll be safe! I thought you had more guts!" + +"Not for Evarin's dirty work!" + +Rakhal swore hideously. "Evarin! Do you really believe--I might have +known he'd get to you too! That girl--and you've managed to wreck all I +did there, too!" Suddenly, so swiftly my eyes could hardly follow, he +whipped out his skean and came at me. "Get away from that door!" + +I stood my ground. "You'll have to kill me first. And I won't fight you, +Rakhal. We'll settle this, but we'll do it my way for once, like +Earthmen." + +"_Son of the Ape!_ Get your skean out, you stinking coward!" + +"I won't do it, Rakhal." I stood and defied him. I had outmaneuvered +Dry-towners in a _shegri_ bet. I knew Rakhal, and I knew he would not +knife an unarmed man. "We fought once with the _kifirgh_ and it didn't +settle anything. This time we'll do it my way. I threw my skean away +before I came here. I won't fight." + +He thrust at me. Even I could see that the blow was a feint, and I had a +flashing, instantaneous memory of Dallisa's threat to drive the knife +through my palms. But even while I commanded myself to stand steady, +sheer reflex threw me forward, grabbing at his wrist and the knife. + +Between my grappling hand he twisted and I felt the skean drive home, +rip through my jacket with a tearing sound; felt the thin fine line of +touch, not pain yet, as it sliced flesh. Then pain burned through my +ribs and I felt hot blood, and I wanted to kill Rakhal, wanted to get my +hands around his throat and kill him with them. And at the same time I +was raging because I didn't want to fight the crazy fool, I wasn't even +mad at him. + +Miellyn flung the door open, shrieking, and suddenly the Toy, released, +was darting a small whirring droning horror, straight at Rakhal's eyes. +I yelled. But there was no time even to warn him. I bent and butted him +in the stomach. He grunted, doubled up in agony and fell out of the path +of the diving Toy. It whirred in frustration, hovered. + +He writhed in agony, drawing up his knees, clawing at his shirt, while I +turned on Miellyn in immense fury--and stopped. Hers had been a move of +desperation, an instinctive act to restore the balance between a +weaponless man and one who had a knife. Rakhal gasped, in a hoarse voice +with all the breath gone from it: + +"Didn't want to use. Rather fight clean--" Then he opened his closed +fist and suddenly there were _two_ of the little whirring droning +horrors in the room and this one was diving at me, and as I threw myself +headlong to the floor the last puzzle-piece fell into place: Evarin had +made the same bargain with Rakhal as with me! + +I rolled over, dodging. Behind me in the room there was a child's shrill +scream: "Daddy! Daddy!" And abruptly the birds collapsed in midair and +went limp. They fell to the floor like dropping stones and lay there +quivering. Rindy dashed across the room, her small skirts flying, and +grabbed up one of the terrible vicious things in either hand. + +"Rindy!" I bellowed. "No!" + +She stood shaking, tears pouring down her round cheeks, a Toy squeezed +tight in either hand. Dark veins stood out almost black on her fair +temples. "Break them, Daddy," she implored in a little thread of a +voice. "Break them, _quick_. I can't hang on...." + +Rakhal staggered to his feet like a drunken man and snatched one of the +Toys, grinding it under his heel. He made a grab at the second, reeled +and drew an anguished breath. He crumpled up, clutching at his belly +where I'd butted him. The bird screamed like a living thing. + +Breaking my paralysis of horror I leaped up, ran across the room, +heedless of the searing pain along my side. I snatched the bird from +Rindy and it screamed and shrilled and died as my foot crunched the tiny +feathers. I stamped the still-moving thing into an amorphous mess and +kept on stamping and smashing until it was only a heap of powder. + +Rakhal finally managed to haul himself upright again. His face was so +pale that the scars stood out like fresh burns. + +"That was a foul blow, Race, but I--I know why you did it." He stopped +and breathed for a minute. Then he muttered, "You ... saved my life, you +know. Did you know you were doing it, when you did it?" + +Still breathing hard, I nodded. Done knowingly, it meant an end of +blood-feud. However we had wronged each other, whatever the pledges. I +spoke the words that confirmed it and ended it, finally and forever: + +"There is a life between us. Let it stand for a death." + +Miellyn was standing in the doorway, her hands pressed to her mouth, her +eyes wide. She said shakily, "You're walking around with a knife in your +ribs, you fool!" + +Rakhal whirled and with a quick jerk he pulled the skean loose. It had +simply been caught in my shirtcloak, in a fold of the rough cloth. He +pulled it away, glanced at the red tip, then relaxed. "Not more than an +inch deep," he said. Then, angrily, defending himself: "You did it +yourself, you ape. I was trying to get rid of the knife when you jumped +me." + +But I knew that and he knew I knew it. He turned and scooped up Rindy, +who was sobbing noisily. She dug her head into his shoulder and I made +out her strangled words. "The other Toys hurt you when I was mad at +you...." she sobbed, rubbing her fists against smeared cheeks. "I--I +wasn't that mad at you. I wasn't that mad at anybody, not even ... him." + +Rakhal pressed his hand against his daughter's fleecy hair and said, +looking at me over her head, "The Toys activate a child's subconscious +resentments against his parents--I found out that much. That also means +a child can control them for a few seconds. No adult can." A stranger +would have seen no change in his expression, but I knew him, and saw. + +"Juli said you threatened Rindy." + +He chuckled and set the child on her feet. "What else could I say that +would have scared Juli enough to send her running to you? Juli's proud, +almost as proud as you are, you stiff-necked Son of the Ape." The insult +did not sting me now. + +"Come on, sit down and let's decide what to do, now we've finished up +the old business." He looked remotely at Miellyn and said, "You must be +Dallisa's sister? I don't suppose your talents include knowing how to +make coffee?" + +They didn't, but with Rindy's help Miellyn managed, and while they were +out of the room Rakhal explained briefly. "Rindy has rudimentary ESP. +I've never had it myself, but I could teach her something--not +much--about how to use it. I've been on Evarin's track ever since that +business of The Lisse. + +"I'd have got it sooner, if you were still working with me, but I +couldn't do anything as a Terran agent, and I had to be kicked out so +thoroughly that the others wouldn't be afraid I was still working +secretly for Terra. For a long time I was just chasing rumors, but when +Rindy got big enough to look in the crystals of Nebran, I started making +some progress. + +"I was afraid to tell Juli; her best safety was the fact that she didn't +know anything. She's always been a stranger in the Dry-towns." He +paused, then said with honest self-evaluation, "Since I left the Secret +Service I've been a stranger there myself." + +I asked, "What about Dallisa?" + +"Twins have some ESP to each other. I knew Miellyn had gone to the +Toymaker. I tried to get Dallisa to find out where Miellyn had gone, +learn more about it. Dallisa wouldn't risk it, but Kyral saw me with +Dallisa and thought it was Miellyn. That put him on my tail, too, and I +had to leave Shainsa. I was afraid of Kyral," he added soberly. "Afraid +of what he'd do. I couldn't do anything without Rindy and I knew if I +told Juli what I was doing, she'd take Rindy away into the Terran Zone, +and I'd be as good as dead." + +As he talked, I began to realize how vast a web Evarin and the +underground organization of Nebran had spread for us. "Evarin was here +today. What for?" + +Rakhal laughed mirthlessly. "He's been trying to get us to kill each +other off. That would get rid of us both. He wants to turn over Wolf to +the nonhumans entirely, I think he's sincere enough, but"--he spread his +hands helplessly--"I can't sit by and see it." + +I asked point-blank, "Are you working for Terra? Or for the Dry-towns? +Or any of the anti-Terran movements?" + +"I'm working for _me_", he said with a shrug. "I don't think much of the +Terran Empire, but one planet can't fight a galaxy. Race, I want just +one thing. I want the Dry-towns and the rest of Wolf, to have a voice in +their own government. Any planet which makes a substantial contribution +to galactic science, by the laws of the Terran Empire, is automatically +given the status of an independent commonwealth. + +"If a man from the Dry-towns discovers something like a matter +transmitter, Wolf gets dominion status. But Evarin and his gang want to +keep it secret, keep it away from Terra, keep it locked up in places +like Canarsa! Somebody has to get it away from them. And if I do it, I +get a nice fat bonus, and an official position." + +I believed that, where I would have suspected too much protestation of +altruism. Rakhal tossed it aside. + +"You've got Miellyn to take you through the transmitters. Go back to the +Mastershrine, and tell Evarin that Race Cargill is dead. In the Trade +City they think I'm Cargill, and I can get in and out as I choose--sorry +if it caused you trouble, but it was the safest thing I could think +of--and I'll 'vise Magnusson and have him send soldiers to guard the +street-shrines. Evarin might try to escape through one of them." + +I shook my head. "Terra hasn't enough men on all Wolf to cover the +street-shrines in Charin alone. And I can't go back with Miellyn." I +explained. Rakhal pursed his lips and whistled when I described the +fight in the transmitter. + +"You have all the luck, Cargill! I've never been near enough even to be +sure how they work--and I'll bet you didn't begin to understand! We'll +have to do it the hard way, then. It won't be the first time we've +bulled our way through a tight place! We'll face Evarin in his own +hideout! If Rindy's with us, we needn't worry." + +I was willing to let him assume command, but I protested, "You'd take a +child into that--that--" + +"What else can we do? Rindy can control the Toys, and neither you nor I +can do that, if Evarin should decide to throw his whole arsenal at us." +He called Rindy and spoke softly to her. She looked from her father to +me, and back again to her father, then smiled and stretched out her hand +to me. + +Before we ventured into the street, Rakhal scowled at the sprawled +embroideries of Miellyn's robe. He said, "In those things you show up +like a snowfall in Shainsa. If you go out in them, you could be mobbed. +Hadn't you better get rid of them now?" + +"I can't," she protested. "They're the keys to the transmitter!" + +Rakhal looked at the conventionalized idols with curiosity, but said +only, "Cover them up in the street, then. Rindy, find her something to +put over her dress." + +When we reached the street-shrine, Miellyn admonished: "Stand close +together on the stones. I'm not sure we can all make the jump at once, +but we'll have to try." + +Rakhal picked up Rindy and hoisted her to his shoulder. Miellyn dropped +the cloak she had draped over the pattern of the Nebran embroideries, +and we crowded close together. The street swayed and vanished and I felt +the now-familiar dip and swirl of blackness before the world +straightened out again. Rindy was whimpering, dabbing smeary fists at +her face. "Daddy, my nose is bleeding...." + +Miellyn hastily bent and wiped the blood from the snubby nose. Rakhal +gestured impatiently. + +"The workroom. Wreck everything you see. Rindy, if anything starts to +come at us, you stop it. Stop it quick. And"--he bent and took the +little face between his hands--"_chiya_, remember they're not toys, no +matter how pretty they are." + +Her grave gray eyes blinked, and she nodded. + +Rakhal flung open the door of the elves' workshop with a shout. The +ringing of the anvils shattered into a thousand dissonances as I kicked +over a workbench and half-finished Toys crashed in confusion to the +floor. + +The dwarfs scattered like rabbits before our assault of destruction. I +smashed tools, filigree, jewels, stamping everything with my heavy +boots. I shattered glass, caught up a hammer and smashed crystals. There +was a wild exhilaration to it. + +A tiny doll, proportioned like a woman, dashed toward me, shrilling in a +supersonic shriek. I put my foot on her and ground the life out of her, +and she screamed like a living woman as she came apart. Her blue eyes +rolled from her head and lay on the floor watching me. I crushed the +blue jewels under my heel. + +Rakhal swung a tiny hound by the tail. Its head shattered into debris of +almost-invisible gears and wheels. I caught up a chair and wrecked a +glass cabinet of parts with it, swinging furiously. A berserk madness of +smashing and breaking had laid hold on me. + +I was drunk with crushing and shattering and ruining, when I heard +Miellyn scream a warning and turned to see Evarin standing in the +doorway. His green cat-eyes blazed with rage. Then he raised both hands +in a sudden, sardonic gesture, and with a loping, inhuman glide, raced +for the transmitter. + +"Rindy," Rakhal panted, "can you block the transmitter?" + +Instead Rindy shrieked. "We've got to get out! The roof is falling down! +The house is going to fall down on us! The roof, look at the roof!" + +I looked up, transfixed by horror. I saw a wide rift open, saw the +skylight shatter and break, and daylight pouring through the cracking +walls, Rakhal snatched Rindy up, protecting her from the falling debris +with his head and shoulders. I grabbed Miellyn round the waist and we +ran for the rift in the buckling wall. + +We shoved through just before the roof caved in and the walls collapsed, +and we found ourselves standing on a bare grassy hillside, looking down +in shock and horror as below us, section after section of what had been +apparently bare hill and rock caved in and collapsed into dusty rubble. + +Miellyn screamed hoarsely. "Run. Run, hurry!" + +I didn't understand, but I ran. I ran, my sides aching, blood streaming +from the forgotten flesh-wound in my side. Miellyn raced beside me and +Rakhal stumbled along, carrying Rindy. + +Then the shock of a great explosion rocked the ground, hurling me down +full length, Miellyn falling on top of me. Rakhal went down on his +knees. Rindy was crying loudly. When I could see straight again, I +looked down at the hillside. + +There was nothing left of Evarin's hideaway or the Mastershrine of +Nebran except a great, gaping hole, still oozing smoke and thick black +dust. Miellyn said aloud, dazed, "So _that's_ what he was going to do!" + +It fitted the peculiar nonhuman logic of the Toymaker. He'd covered the +traces. + +"Destroyed!" Rakhal raged. "All destroyed! The workrooms, the science of +the Toys, the matter transmitter--the minute we find it, it's +destroyed!" He beat his fists furiously. "Our one chance to learn--" + +"We were lucky to get out alive," said Miellyn quietly. "Where on the +planet are we, I wonder?" + +I looked down the hillside, and stared in amazement. Spread out on the +hillside below us lay the Kharsa, topped by the white skyscraper of the +HQ. + +"I'll be damned," I said, "right here. We're home. Rakhal, you can go +down and make your peace with the Terrans, and Juli. And you, Miellyn--" +Before the others, I could not say what I was thinking, but I put my +hand on her shoulder and kept it there. She smiled, shakily, with a hint +of her old mischief. "I can't go into the Terran Zone looking like this, +can I? Give me that comb again. Rakhal, give me your shirtcloak, my +robes are torn." + +"You vain, stupid female, worrying about a thing like that at a time +like this!" Rakhal's look was like murder. I put my comb in her hand, +then suddenly saw something in the symbols across her breasts. Before +this I had seen only the conventionalized and intricate glyph of the +Toad God. But now-- + +I reached out and ripped the cloth away. + +"Cargill!" she protested angrily, crimsoning, covering her bare breasts +with both hands. "Is this the place? And before a child, too!" + +I hardly heard. "Look!" I exclaimed. "Rakhal, look at the symbols +embroidered into the glyph of the God! You can read the old nonhuman +glyphs. You did it in the city of The Lisse. Miellyn said they were the +key to the transmitters! I'll bet the formula is written out there for +anyone to read! + +"Anyone, that is, who _can_ read it! I can't, but I'll bet the formula +equations for the transmitters are carved on every Toad God glyph on +Wolf. Rakhal, it makes sense. There are two ways of hiding something. +Either keep it locked away, or hide it right out in plain sight. Whoever +bothers even to _look_ at a conventionalized Toad God? There are so many +_billions_ of them...." + +He bent his head over the embroideries, and when he looked up his face +was flushed. "I believe--by the chains of Sharra, I believe you have it, +Race! It may take years to work out the glyphs, but I'll do it, or die +trying!" His scarred and hideous face looked almost handsome in +exultation, and I grinned at him. + +"If Juli leaves enough of you, once she finds out how you maneuvered +her. Look, Rindy's fallen asleep on the grass there. Poor kid, we'd +better get her down to her mother." + +"Right." Rakhal thrust the precious embroidery into his shirtcloak, then +cradled his sleeping daughter in his arms. I watched him with a curious +emotion I could not identify. It seemed to pinpoint some great change, +either in Rakhal or myself. It's not difficult to visualize one's sister +with children, but there was something, some strange incongruity in the +sight of Rakhal carrying the little girl, carefully tucking her up in a +fold of his cloak to keep the sharp breeze off her face. + +Miellyn was limping in her thin sandals, and she shivered. I asked, +"Cold?" + +"No, but--I don't believe Evarin is dead, I'm afraid he got away." + +For a minute the thought dimmed the luster of the morning. Then I +shrugged. "He's probably buried in that big hole up there." But I knew I +would never be sure. + +We walked abreast, my arm around the weary, stumbling woman, and Rakhal +said softly at last, "Like old times." + +It wasn't old times, I knew. He would know it too, once his exultation +sobered. I had outgrown my love for intrigue, and I had the feeling this +was Rakhal's last adventure. It was going to take him, as he said, years +to work out the equations for the transmitter. And I had a feeling my +own solid, ordinary desk was going to look good to me in the morning. + +But I knew now that I'd never run away from Wolf again. It was my own +beloved sun that was rising. My sister was waiting for me down below, +and I was bringing back her child. My best friend was walking at my +side. What more could a man want? + +If the memory of dark, poison-berry eyes was to haunt me in nightmares, +they did not come into the waking world. I looked at Miellyn, took her +slender unmanacled hand in mine, and smiled as we walked through the +gates of the city. Now, after all my years on Wolf, I understood the +desire to keep their women under lock and key that was its ancient +custom. I vowed to myself as we went that I should waste no time finding +a fetter shop and having forged therein the perfect steel chains that +should bind my love's wrists to my key forever. + + + + +ACE SCIENCE FICTION DOUBLES + +Two books back-to-back + +00990 =Against Arcturus= Putney +=Time Thieves= Koontz 95c + +13805 =Dark Planet= Rackham +=Herod Men= Kamin 75c + +15890 =Door Through Space= Bradley +=Rendezvous on a Lost World= Chandler 95c + +16640 =Dragon Master= +=Five Gold Bands= Vance 95c + +27415 =Gather in the Hall of Planets= O'Donnell +=In the Pocket and Other SF Stories= O'Donnell 75c + +33710 =Highwood= Barrett +=Annihilation Factor= Bayley 95c + +66525 =Pirates of Zan= Leinster +=Mutant Weapon= Leinster 95c + +68310 =Project Jove= Glasby +=Hunters of Jundagai= Bulmer 75c + +75781 =Secret of Sinharat= +=People of the Talisman= Brackett 95c + +77525 =Son of the Tree= +=House of Iszm= Vance 95c + +77785 =Space Willies= +=Six Worlds Yonder= Russell 75c + +79975 =Technos= +=A Scatter of Stardust= Tubb 95c + +_Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon_. + + +=ace books=, (Dept. 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MM) Box 576, Times Square Station +New York, N.Y. 10036 + +Please send me titles checked above. + +I enclose $............Add 15¢ handling fee per copy. + +Name................................................. + +Address.............................................. + +City.................. State............. Zip........ + +Please allow 4 weeks for delivery. 35 + + + * * * * * + + + + +FANGS OF THE WOLF WORLD + + +At one time Race Cargill had been the best Terran Intelligence agent on +the complex and mysterious planet of Wolf. He had repeatedly imperiled +his life amongst the half-human and non-human creatures of the sullen +world. And he had repeatedly accomplished the fantastic missions until +his name was emblazoned with glory. + +But that had all seemingly ended. For six long years he'd sat behind a +boring desk inside the fenced-in Terran Headquarters, cut off there ever +since he and a rival had scarred and ripped each other in blood-feud. + +But when THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE swung suddenly open, the feud was on +again--and with it a plot designed to check and destroy the Terran +Empire. + + + * * * * * + +Turn this book over for +second complete novel + + * * * * * + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE + + +LIST OF FIXED ISSUES + +p. 024--typo fixed: changed 'scared' into 'scarred' +p. 029--typo fixed: changed 'shiftcloak' into 'shirtcloak' +p. 030--typo fixed: changed 'dozen' into 'dozens' +p. 035--typo fixed: changed 'Kryal' into 'Kyral' +p. 045--typo fixed: changed 'miscroscope' into 'microscope' +p. 052--typo fixed: changed 'known' into 'know' +p. 076--typo fixed: changed 'even' into 'ever' +p. 078--removed an extra 'what' +p. 088--spelling normalized: changed 'shirt cloak' into 'shirtcloak' +p. 092--typo fixed: changed 'telling' into 'told' +p. 100--typo fixed: changed 'her' into 'my' +p. 101--typo fixed: changed 'thousand' into 'thousands' +p. 105--typo fixed: changed 'harsly' into 'harshly' +p. 108--typo fixed: changed 'has' into 'had' +p. 108--typo fixed: changed 'her' into 'his' +p. 109--removed an extra quote in front of 'I was afraid' +p. 111--typo fixed: changed 'stetched' into 'stretched' + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Door Through Space, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 19726-8.txt or 19726-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/7/2/19726/ + +Produced by Gregory D. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Door Through Space + +Author: Marion Zimmer Bradley + +Release Date: November 6, 2006 [EBook #19726] +[Last updated: August 19, 2011] + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Gregory D. Weeks, Jason Isbell, Irma Spehar +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE</h1> + +<h2 style="padding-top: 1em;">Marion Zimmer Bradley</h2> + +<table class="illos"> +<tr><td class="illos"><p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/cover2.jpg"><img src="./images/cover2_tb.jpg" +alt="The Cover" title="The Cover" /></a></p></td><td class="illos"><p class="figcenter"><a href="./images/cover1.jpg"><img src="./images/cover1_tb.jpg" +alt="The Cover" title="The Cover" /></a></p></td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 2em;">ACE BOOKS</p> + +<p class="center">A Division of Charter Communications Inc.<br /> +1120 Avenue of the Americas<br /> +New York, N. Y. 10036</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center">THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE</p> + +<p class="center">Copyright ©, 1961, by Ace Books, Inc.</p> + +<p class="center">All Rights Reserved</p> + +<div class="copyright"> +<p class="center">Transcriber's note: +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright +on this publication was renewed.</p> +</div> + +<p>... <i>across half a Galaxy, the Terran Empire maintains its sovereignty +with the consent of the governed. It is a peaceful reign, held by +compact and not by conquest. Again and again, when rebellion threatens +the Terran Peace, the natives of the rebellious world have turned +against their own people and sided with the men of Terra; not from fear, +but from a sense of dedication.</i></p> + +<p><i>There has never been open war. The battle for these worlds is fought in +the minds of a few men who stand between worlds; bound to one world by +interest, loyalties and allegiance; bound to the other by love.</i></p> + +<p><i>Such a world is Wolf. Such a man was Race Cargill of the Terran Secret +Service.</i></p> + +<hr class="upper" /> + +<p class="center"> +RENDEZVOUS ON A LOST WORLD<br /> +Copyright ©, 1961, by Ace Books, Inc.<br /> +</p> + +<hr class="lower" /> + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 3em">Printed in U.S.A.</p> + +<p><b>Author's Note:—</b></p> + +<p>I've always wanted to write. But not until I discovered the old pulp +science-fantasy magazines, at the age of sixteen, did this general +desire become a specific urge to write science-fantasy adventures.</p> + +<p>I took a lot of detours on the way. I discovered s-f in its golden age: +the age of Kuttner, C. L. Moore, Leigh Brackett, Ed Hamilton and Jack +Vance. But while I was still collecting rejection slips for my early +efforts, the fashion changed. Adventures on faraway worlds and strange +dimensions went out of fashion, and the new look in +science-fiction—emphasis on the <i>science</i>—came in.</p> + +<p>So my first stories were straight science-fiction, and I'm not trying to +put down that kind of story. It has its place. By and large, the kind of +science-fiction which makes tomorrow's headlines as near as this +morning's coffee, has enlarged popular awareness of the modern, +miraculous world of science we live in. It has helped generations of +young people feel at ease with a rapidly changing world.</p> + +<p>But fashions change, old loves return, and now that Sputniks clutter up +the sky with new and unfamiliar moons, the readers of science-fiction +are willing to wait for tomorrow to read tomorrow's headlines. Once +again, I think, there is a place, a wish, a need and hunger for the +wonder and color of the world way out. The world beyond the stars. The +world we <i>won't</i> live to see. That is why I wrote THE DOOR THROUGH +SPACE.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">—Marion Zimmer Bradley</span></p> +<p><br /></p> + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER ONE</h2> + + +<p>Beyond the spaceport gates, the men of the Kharsa were hunting down a +thief. I heard the shrill cries, the pad-padding of feet in strides just +a little too long and loping to be human, raising echoes all down the +dark and dusty streets leading up to the main square.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the square itself lay empty in the crimson noon of Wolf. Overhead +the dim red ember of Phi Coronis, Wolf's old and dying sun, gave out a +pale and heatless light. The pair of Spaceforce guards at the gates, +wearing the black leathers of the Terran Empire, shockers holstered at +their belts, were drowsing under the arched gateway where the +star-and-rocket emblem proclaimed the domain of Terra. One of them, a +snub-nosed youngster only a few weeks out from Earth, cocked an +inquisitive ear at the cries and scuffling feet, then jerked his head at +me.</p> + +<p>"Hey, Cargill, you can talk their lingo. What's going on out there?"</p> + +<p>I stepped out past the gateway to listen. There was still no one to be +seen in the square. It lay white and windswept, a barricade of +emptiness; to one side the spaceport and the white skyscraper of the +Terran Headquarters, and at the other side, the clutter of low +buildings, the street-shrine, the little spaceport cafe smelling of +coffee and <i>jaco</i>, and the dark opening mouths of streets that rambled +down into the Kharsa—the old town, the native quarter. But I was alone +in the square with the shrill cries—closer now, raising echoes from the +enclosing walls—and the loping of many feet down one of the dirty +streets.</p> + +<p>Then I saw him running, dodging, a hail of stones flying round his head; +someone or something small and cloaked and agile. Behind him the +still-faceless mob howled and threw stones. I could not yet understand +the cries; but they were out for blood, and I knew it.</p> + +<p>I said briefly, "Trouble coming," just before the mob spilled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> out into +the square. The fleeing dwarf stared about wildly for an instant, his +head jerking from side to side so rapidly that it was impossible to get +even a fleeting impression of his face—human or nonhuman, familiar or +bizarre. Then, like a pellet loosed from its sling, he made straight for +the gateway and safety.</p> + +<p>And behind him the loping mob yelled and howled and came pouring over +half the square. Just half. Then by that sudden intuition which +permeates even the most crazed mob with some semblance of reason, they +came to a ragged halt, heads turning from side to side.</p> + +<p>I stepped up on the lower step of the Headquarters building, and looked +them over.</p> + +<p>Most of them were <i>chaks</i>, the furred man-tall nonhumans of the Kharsa, +and not the better class. Their fur was unkempt, their tails naked with +filth and disease. Their leather aprons hung in tatters. One or two in +the crowd were humans, the dregs of the Kharsa. But the star-and-rocket +emblem blazoned across the spaceport gates sobered even the wildest +blood-lust somewhat; they milled and shifted uneasily in their half of +the square.</p> + +<p>For a moment I did not see where their quarry had gone. Then I saw him +crouched, not four feet from me, in a patch of shadow. Simultaneously +the mob saw him, huddled just beyond the gateway, and a howl of +frustration and rage went ringing round the square. Someone threw a +stone. It zipped over my head, narrowly missing me, and landed at the +feet of the black-leathered guard. He jerked his head up and gestured +with the shocker which had suddenly come unholstered.</p> + +<p>The gesture should have been enough. On Wolf, Terran law has been +written in blood and fire and exploding atoms; and the line is drawn +firm and clear. The men of Spaceforce do not interfere in the old town, +or in any of the native cities. But when violence steps over the +threshold, passing the blazon of the star and rocket, punishment is +swift and terrible. The threat should have been enough.</p> + +<p>Instead a howl of abuse went up from the crowd.</p> + +<p>"<i>Terranan!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Son of the Ape!"</p> + +<p>The Spaceforce guards were shoulder to shoulder behind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> me now. The +snub-nosed kid, looking slightly pale, called out. "Get inside the +gates, Cargill! If I have to shoot—"</p> + +<p>The older man motioned him to silence. "Wait. Cargill," he called.</p> + +<p>I nodded to show that I heard.</p> + +<p>"You talk their lingo. Tell them to haul off! Damned if I want to +shoot!"</p> + +<p>I stepped down and walked into the open square, across the crumbled +white stones, toward the ragged mob. Even with two armed Spaceforce men +at my back, it made my skin crawl, but I flung up my empty hand in token +of peace:</p> + +<p>"Take your mob out of the square," I shouted in the jargon of the +Kharsa. "This territory is held in compact of peace! Settle your +quarrels elsewhere!"</p> + +<p>There was a little stirring in the crowd. The shock of being addressed +in their own tongue, instead of the Terran Standard which the Empire has +forced on Wolf, held them silent for a minute. I had learned that long +ago: that speaking in any of the languages of Wolf would give me a +minute's advantage.</p> + +<p>But only a minute. Then one of the mob yelled, "We'll go if you give'm +to us! He's no right to Terran sanctuary!"</p> + +<p>I walked over to the huddled dwarf, miserably trying to make himself +smaller against the wall. I nudged him with my foot.</p> + +<p>"Get up. Who are you?"</p> + +<p>The hood fell away from his face as he twitched to his feet. He was +trembling violently. In the shadow of the hood I saw a furred face, a +quivering velvety muzzle, and great soft golden eyes which held +intelligence and terror.</p> + +<p>"What have you done? Can't you talk?"</p> + +<p>He held out the tray which he had shielded under his cloak, an ordinary +peddler's tray. "Toys. Sell toys. Children. You got'm?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head and pushed the creature away, with only a glance at the +array of delicately crafted manikins, tiny animals, prisms and crystal +whirligigs. "You'd better get out of here. Scram. Down that street." I +pointed.</p> + +<p>A voice from the crowd shouted again, and it had a very ugly sound. "He +is a spy of Nebran!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Nebran—</i>" The dwarfish nonhuman gabbled something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> then doubled +behind me. I saw him dodge, feint in the direction of the gates, then, +as the crowd surged that way, run for the street-shrine across the +square, slipping from recess to recess of the wall. A hail of stones +went flying in that direction. The little toy-seller dodged into the +street-shrine.</p> + +<p>Then there was a hoarse "Ah, aaah!" of terror, and the crowd edged away, +surged backward. The next minute it had begun to melt away, its entity +dissolving into separate creatures, slipping into the side alleys and +the dark streets that disgorged into the square. Within three minutes +the square lay empty again in the pale-crimson noon.</p> + +<p>The kid in black leather let his breath go and swore, slipping his +shocker into its holster. He stared and demanded profanely, "Where'd the +little fellow go?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows?" the other shrugged. "Probably sneaked into one of the +alleys. Did you see where he went, Cargill?"</p> + +<p>I came slowly back to the gateway. To me, it had seemed that he ducked +into the street-shrine and vanished into thin air, but I've lived on +Wolf long enough to know you can't trust your eyes here. I said so, and +the kid swore again, gulping, more upset than he wanted to admit. "Does +this kind of thing happen often?"</p> + +<p>"All the time," his companion assured him soberly, with a sidewise wink +at me. I didn't return the wink.</p> + +<p>The kid wouldn't let it drop. "Where did you learn their lingo, Mr. +Cargill?"</p> + +<p>"I've been on Wolf a long time," I said, spun on my heel and walked +toward Headquarters. I tried not to hear, but their voices followed me +anyhow, discreetly lowered, but not lowered enough.</p> + +<p>"Kid, don't you know who he is? That's Cargill of the Secret Service! +Six years ago he was the best man in Intelligence, before—" The voice +lowered another decibel, and then there was the kid's voice asking, +shaken, "But what the hell happened to his face?"</p> + +<p>I should have been used to it by now. I'd been hearing it, more or less +behind my back, for six years. Well, if my luck held, I'd never hear it +again. I strode up the white steps of the skyscraper, to finish the +arrangements that would take me away from Wolf forever. To the other end +of the Empire, to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> the other end of the galaxy—anywhere, so long as I +need not wear my past like a medallion around my neck, or blazoned and +branded on what was left of my ruined face.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER TWO</h2> + + +<p>The Terran Empire has set its blazon on four hundred planets circling +more than three hundred suns. But no matter what the color of the sun, +the number of moons overhead, or the geography of the planet, once you +step inside a Headquarters building, you are on Earth. And Earth would +be alien to many who called themselves Earthmen, judging by the +strangeness I always felt when I stepped into that marble-and-glass +world inside the skyscraper. I heard the sound of my steps ringing into +thin resonance along the marble corridor, and squinted my eyes, +readjusting them painfully to the cold yellowness of the lights.</p> + +<p>The Traffic Division was efficiency made insolent, in glass and chrome +and polished steel, mirrors and windows and looming electronic clerical +machines. Most of one wall was taken up by a TV monitor which gave a +view of the spaceport; a vast open space lighted with blue-white mercury +vapor lamps, and a chained-down skyscraper of a starship, littered over +with swarming ants. The process crew was getting the big ship ready for +skylift tomorrow morning. I gave it a second and then a third look. I'd +be on it when it lifted.</p> + +<p>Turning away from the monitored spaceport, I watched myself stride +forward in the mirrored surfaces that were everywhere; a tall man, a +lean man, bleached out by years under a red sun, and deeply scarred on +both cheeks and around the mouth. Even after six years behind a desk, my +neat business clothes—suitable for an Earthman with a desk job—didn't +fit quite right, and I still rose unconsciously on the balls of my feet, +approximating the lean stooping walk of a Dry-towner from the Coronis +plains.</p> + +<p>The clerk behind the sign marked TRANSPORTATION was a little rabbit of a +man with a sunlamp tan, barricaded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> by a small-sized spaceport of desk, +and looking as if he liked being shut up there. He looked up in civil +inquiry.</p> + +<p>"Can I do something for you?"</p> + +<p>"My name's Cargill. Have you a pass for me?"</p> + +<p>He stared. A free pass aboard a starship is rare except for professional +spacemen, which I obviously wasn't. "Let me check my records," he +hedged, and punched scanning buttons on the glassy surface. Shadows came +and went, and I saw myself half-reflected, a tipsy shadow in a flurry of +racing colors. The pattern finally stabilized and the clerk read off +names.</p> + +<p>"Brill, Cameron ... ah, yes. Cargill, Race Andrew, Department 38, +transfer transportation. Is that you?"</p> + +<p>I admitted it and he started punching more buttons when the sound of the +name made connection in whatever desk-clerks use for a brain. He stopped +with his hand halfway to the button.</p> + +<p>"Are you Race Cargill of the Secret Service, sir? <i>The</i> Race Cargill?"</p> + +<p>"It's right there," I said, gesturing wearily at the projected pattern +under the glassy surface.</p> + +<p>"Why, I thought—I mean, everybody took it for granted—that is, I +heard—"</p> + +<p>"You thought Cargill had been killed a long time ago because his name +never turned up in news dispatches any more?" I grinned sourly, seeing +my image dissolve in blurring shadows, and feeling the long-healed scar +on my mouth draw up to make the grin hideous. "I'm Cargill, all right. +I've been up on Floor 38 for six years, holding down a desk any clerk +could handle. You for instance."</p> + +<p>He gaped. He was a rabbit of a man who had never stepped out of the safe +familiar boundaries of the Terran Trade City. "You mean <i>you're</i> the man +who went to Charin in disguise, and routed out The Lisse? The man who +scouted the Black Ridge and Shainsa? And you've been working at a desk +upstairs all these years? It's—hard to believe, sir."</p> + +<p>My mouth twitched. It had been hard for me to believe while I was doing +it. "The pass?"</p> + +<p>"Right away, sir." He punched buttons and a printed chip of plastic +extruded from a slot on the desk top. "Your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> fingerprint, please?" He +pressed my finger into the still-soft surface of the plastic, indelibly +recording the print; waited a moment for it to harden, then laid the +chip in the slot of a pneumatic tube. I heard it whoosh away.</p> + +<p>"They'll check your fingerprint against that when you board the ship. +Skylift isn't till dawn, but you can go aboard as soon as the process +crew finishes with her." He glanced at the monitor screen, where the +swarming crew were still doing inexplicable things to the immobile +spacecraft. "It will be another hour or two. Where are you going, Mr. +Cargill?"</p> + +<p>"Some planet in the Hyades Cluster. Vainwal, I think, something like +that."</p> + +<p>"What's it like there?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know?" I'd never been there either. I only knew that +Vainwal had a red sun, and that the Terran Legate could use a trained +Intelligence officer. And <i>not</i> pin him down to a desk.</p> + +<p>There was respect, and even envy in the little man's voice. "Could +I—buy you a drink before you go aboard, Mr. Cargill?"</p> + +<p>"Thanks, but I have a few loose ends to tie up." I didn't, but I was +damned if I'd spend my last hour on Wolf under the eyes of a deskbound +rabbit who preferred his adventure safely secondhand.</p> + +<p>But after I'd left the office and the building, I almost wished I'd +taken him up on it. It would be at least an hour before I could board +the starship, with nothing to do but hash over old memories, better +forgotten.</p> + +<p>The sun was lower now. Phi Coronis is a dim star, a dying star, and once +past the crimson zenith of noon, its light slants into a long +pale-reddish twilight. Four of Wolf's five moons were clustered in a +pale bouquet overhead, mingling thin violet moonlight into the crimson +dusk.</p> + +<p>The shadows were blue and purple in the empty square as I walked across +the stones and stood looking down one of the side streets.</p> + +<p>A few steps, and I was in an untidy slum which might have been on +another world from the neat bright Trade City which lay west of the +spaceport. The Kharsa was alive and reeking with the sounds and smells +of human and half-human life. A naked child, diminutive and +golden-furred,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> darted between two of the chinked pebble-houses, and +disappeared, spilling fragile laughter like breaking glass.</p> + +<p>A little beast, half snake and half cat, crawled across a roof, spread +leathery wings, and flapped to the ground. The sour pungent reek of +incense from the open street-shrine made my nostrils twitch, and a +hulked form inside, not human, cast me a surly green glare as I passed.</p> + +<p>I turned, retracing my steps. There was no danger, of course, so close +to the Trade City. Even on such planets as Wolf, Terra's laws are +respected within earshot of their gates. But there had been rioting here +and in Charin during the last month. After the display of mob violence +this afternoon, a lone Terran, unarmed, might turn up as a solitary +corpse flung on the steps of the HQ building.</p> + +<p>There had been a time when I had walked alone from Shainsa to the Polar +Colony. I had known how to melt into this kind of night, shabby and +inconspicuous, a worn shirtcloak hunched round my shoulders, weaponless +except for the razor-sharp skean in the clasp of the cloak; walking on +the balls of my feet like a Dry-towner, not looking or sounding or +smelling like an Earthman.</p> + +<p>That rabbit in the Traffic office had stirred up things I'd be wiser to +forget. It had been six years; six years of slow death behind a desk, +since the day when Rakhal Sensar had left me a marked man; death-warrant +written on my scarred face anywhere outside the narrow confines of the +Terran law on Wolf.</p> + +<p>Rakhal Sensar—my fists clenched with the old impotent hate. <i>If I could +get my hands on him!</i></p> + +<p>It had been Rakhal who first led me through the byways of the Kharsa, +teaching me the jargon of a dozen tribes, the chirping call of the +Ya-men, the way of the catmen of the rain-forests, the argot of thieves +markets, the walk and step of the Dry-towners from Shainsa and Daillon +and Ardcarran—the parched cities of dusty, salt stone which spread out +in the bottoms of Wolf's vanished oceans. Rakhal was from Shainsa, +human, tall as an Earthman, weathered by salt and sun, and he had worked +for Terran Intelligence since we were boys. We had traveled all over our +world together, and found it good.</p> + +<p>And then, for some reason I had never known, it had come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> to an end. +Even now I was not wholly sure why he had erupted, that day, into +violence and a final explosion. Then he had disappeared, leaving me a +marked man. And a lonely one: Juli had gone with him.</p> + +<p>I strode the streets of the slum unseeing, my thoughts running a +familiar channel. Juli, my kid sister, clinging around Rakhal's neck, +her gray eyes hating me. I had never seen her again.</p> + +<p>That had been six years ago. One more adventure had shown me that my +usefulness to the Secret Service was over. Rakhal had vanished, but he +had left me a legacy: my name, written on the sure scrolls of death +anywhere outside the safe boundaries of Terran law. A marked man, I had +gone back to slow stagnation behind a desk. I'd stood it as long as I +could.</p> + +<p>When it finally got too bad, Magnusson had been sympathetic. He was the +Chief of Terran Intelligence on Wolf, and I was next in line for his +job, but he understood when I quit. He'd arranged the transfer and the +pass, and I was leaving tonight.</p> + +<p>I was nearly back to the spaceport by now, across from the street-shrine +at the edge of the square. It was here that the little toy-seller had +vanished. But it was exactly like a thousand, a hundred thousand other +such street-shrines on Wolf, a smudge of incense reeking and stinking +before the squatting image of Nebran, the Toad God whose face and symbol +are everywhere on Wolf. I stared for a moment at the ugly idol, then +slowly moved away.</p> + +<p>The lighted curtains of the spaceport cafe attracted my attention and I +went inside. A few spaceport personnel in storm gear were drinking +coffee at the counter, a pair of furred <i>chaks</i>, lounging beneath the +mirrors at the far end, and a trio of Dry-towners, rangy, weathered men +in crimson and blue shirt cloaks, were standing at a wall shelf, eating +Terran food with aloof dignity.</p> + +<p>In my business clothes I felt more conspicuous than the <i>chaks</i>. What +place had a civilian here, between the uniforms of the spacemen and the +colorful brilliance of the Dry-towners?</p> + +<p>A snub-nosed girl with alabaster hair came to take my order. I asked for +<i>jaco</i> and bunlets, and carried the food to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> a wall shelf near the +Dry-towners. Their dialect fell soft and familiar on my ears. One of +them, without altering the expression on his face or the easy tone of +his voice, began to make elaborate comments on my entrance, my +appearance, my ancestry and probably personal habits, all defined in the +colorfully obscene dialect of Shainsa.</p> + +<p>That had happened before. The Wolfan sense of humor is only half-human. +The finest joke is to criticize and insult a stranger, preferably an +Earthman, to his very face, in an unknown language, perfectly deadpan. +In my civilian clothes I was obviously fair game.</p> + +<p>A look or gesture of resentment would have lost face and dignity—what +the Dry-towners call their <i>kihar</i>—permanently. I leaned over and +remarked in their own dialect that I would, at some future and +unspecified time, appreciate the opportunity to return their +compliments.</p> + +<p>By rights they should have laughed, made some barbed remark about my +command of language and crossed their hands in symbol of a jest decently +reversed on themselves. Then we would have bought each other a drink, +and that would be that.</p> + +<p>But it didn't happen that way. Not this time. The tallest of the three +whirled, upsetting his drink in the process. I heard its thin shatter +through the squeal of the alabaster-haired girl, as a chair crashed +over. They faced me three abreast, and one of them fumbled in the clasp +of his shirtcloak.</p> + +<p>I edged backward, my own hand racing up for a skean I hadn't carried in +six years, and fronted them squarely, hoping I could face down the +prospect of a roughhouse. They wouldn't kill me, this close to the HQ, +but at least I was in for an unpleasant mauling. I couldn't handle three +men; and if nerves were this taut in the Kharsa, I might get knifed. +Quite by accident, of course.</p> + +<p>The <i>chaks</i> moaned and gibbered. The Dry-towners glared at me and I +tensed for the moment when their steady stare would explode into +violence.</p> + +<p>Then I became aware that they were gazing, not at me, but at something +or someone behind me. The skeans snicked back into the clasps of their +cloaks.</p> + +<p>Then they broke rank, turned and ran. They <i>ran</i>, blunder<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>ing into +stools, leaving havoc of upset benches and broken crockery in their +wake. One man barged into the counter, swore and ran on, limping. I let +my breath go. Something had put the fear of God into those brutes, and +it wasn't my own ugly mug. I turned and saw the girl.</p> + +<p>She was slight, with waving hair like spun black glass, circled with +faint tracery of stars. A black glass belt bound her narrow waist like +clasped hands, and her robe, stark white, bore an ugly embroidery across +the breasts, the flat sprawl of a conventionalized Toad God, Nebran. Her +features were delicate, chiseled, pale; a Dry-town face, all human, all +woman, but set in an alien and unearthly repose. The great eyes gleamed +red. They were fixed, almost unseeing, but the crimson lips were curved +with inhuman malice.</p> + +<p>She stood motionless, looking at me as if wondering why I had not run +with the others. In half a second, the smile flickered off and was +replaced by a startled look of—recognition?</p> + +<p>Whoever and whatever she was, she had saved me a mauling. I started to +phrase formal thanks, then broke off in astonishment. The cafe had +emptied and we were entirely alone. Even the <i>chaks</i> had leaped through +an open window—I saw the whisk of a disappearing tail.</p> + +<p>We stood frozen, looking at one another while the Toad God sprawled +across her breasts rose and fell for half a dozen breaths.</p> + +<p>Then I took one step forward, and she took one step backward, at the +same instant. In one swift movement she was outside in the dark street. +It took me only an instant to get into the street after her, but as I +stepped across the door there was a little stirring in the air, like the +rising of heat waves across the salt flats at noon. Then the +street-shrine was empty, and nowhere was there any sign of the girl. She +had vanished. She simply was not there.</p> + +<p>I gaped at the empty shrine. She had stepped inside and vanished, like a +wraith of smoke, like—</p> + +<p>—Like the little toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa.</p> + +<p>There were eyes in the street again and, becoming aware of where I was, +I moved away. The shrines of Nebran are on every corner of Wolf, but +this is one instance when familiar<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>ity does not breed contempt. The +street was dark and seemed empty, but it was packed with all the little +noises of living. I was not unobserved. And meddling with a +street-shrine would be just as dangerous as the skeans of my three +loud-mouthed Dry-town roughnecks.</p> + +<p>I turned and crossed the square for the last time, turning toward the +loom of the spaceship, filing the girl away as just another riddle of +Wolf I'd never solve.</p> + +<p>How wrong I was!</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER THREE</h2> + + +<p>From the spaceport gates, exchanging brief greetings with the guards, I +took a last look at the Kharsa. For a minute I toyed with the notion of +just disappearing down one of those streets. It's not hard to disappear +on Wolf, if you know how. And I knew, or had known once. Loyalty to +Terra? What had Terra given me except a taste of color and adventure, +out there in the Dry-towns, and then taken it away again?</p> + +<p>If an Earthman is very lucky and very careful, he lasts about ten years +in Intelligence. I had had two years more than my share. I still knew +enough to leave my Terran identity behind like a worn-out jacket. I +could seek out Rakhal, settle our blood-feud, see Juli again....</p> + +<p>How could I see Juli again? As her husband's murderer? No other way. +Blood-feud on Wolf is a terrible and elaborate ritual of the code +duello. And once I stepped outside the borders of Terran law, sooner or +later Rakhal and I would meet. And one of us would die.</p> + +<p>I looked back, just once, at the dark rambling streets away from the +square. Then I turned toward the blue-white lights that hurt my eyes, +and the starship that loomed, huge and hateful, before me.</p> + +<p>A steward in white took my fingerprint and led me to a coffin-sized +chamber. He brought me coffee and sandwiches—I hadn't, after all, eaten +in the spaceport cafe—then got me into the skyhook and strapped me, +deftly and firmly, into the acceleration cushions, tugging at the +Garensen belts until I ached all over. A long needle went into my +arm—the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> narcotic that would keep me safely drowsy all through the +terrible tug of interstellar acceleration.</p> + +<p>Doors clanged, buzzers vibrated lower down in the ship, men tramped the +corridors calling to one another in the language of the spaceports. I +understood one word in four. I shut my eyes, not caring. At the end of +the trip there would be another star, another world, another language. +Another life.</p> + +<p>I had spent all my adult life on Wolf. Juli had been a child under the +red star. But it was a pair of wide crimson eyes and black hair combed +into ringlets like spun black glass that went down with me into the +bottomless pit of sleep....</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Someone was shaking me.</p> + +<p>"Ah, come on, Cargill. Wake up, man. Shake your boots!"</p> + +<p>My mouth, foul-tasting and stiff, fumbled at the shapes of words. "Wha' +happened? Wha' y' want?" My eyes throbbed. When I got them open I saw +two men in black leathers bending over me. We were still inside gravity.</p> + +<p>"Get out of the skyhook. You're coming with us."</p> + +<p>"Wha'—" Even through the layers of the sedative, that got to me. Only a +criminal, under interstellar law, can be removed from a passage-paid +starship once he has formally checked in on board. I was legally, at +this moment, on my "planet of destination."</p> + +<p>"I haven't been charged—"</p> + +<p>"Did I say you had?" snapped one man.</p> + +<p>"Shut up, he's doped," the other said hurriedly. "Look," he continued, +pronouncing every word loudly and distinctly, "get up now, and come with +us. The co-ordinator will hold up blastoff if we don't get off in three +minutes, and Operations will scream. Come on, please."</p> + +<p>Then I was stumbling along the lighted, empty corridor, swaying between +the two men, foggily realizing the crew must think me a fugitive caught +trying to leave the planet.</p> + +<p>The locks dilated. A uniformed spaceman watched us, fussily regarding a +chronometer. He fretted. "The dispatcher's office—"</p> + +<p>"We're doing the best we can," the Spaceforce man said. "Can you walk, +Cargill?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>I could, though my feet were a little shaky on the ladders. The violet +moonlight had deepened to mauve, and gusty winds spun tendrils of grit +across my face. The Spaceforce men shepherded me, one on either side, to +the gateway.</p> + +<p>"What the hell is all this? Is something wrong with my pass?"</p> + +<p>The guard shook his head. "How would I know? Magnusson put out the +order, take it up with him."</p> + +<p>"Believe me," I muttered, "I will."</p> + +<p>They looked at each other. "Hell," said one, "he's not under arrest, we +don't have to haul him around like a convict. Can you walk all right +now, Cargill? You know where the Secret Service office is, don't you? +Floor 38. The Chief wants you, and make it fast."</p> + +<p>I knew it made no sense to ask questions, they obviously knew no more +than I did. I asked anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Are they holding the ship for me? I'm supposed to be leaving on it."</p> + +<p>"Not that one," the guard answered, jerking his head toward the +spaceport. I looked back just in time to see the dust-dimmed ship leap +upward, briefly whitened in the field searchlights, and vanish into the +surging clouds above.</p> + +<p>My head was clearing fast, and anger speeded up the process. The HQ +building was empty in the chill silence of just before dawn. I had to +rout out a dozing elevator operator, and as the lift swooped upward my +anger rose with it. I wasn't working for Magnusson any more. What right +had he, or anybody, to grab me off an outbound starship like a criminal? +By the time I barged into his office, I was spoiling for a fight.</p> + +<p>The Secret Service office was full of grayish-pink morning and yellow +lights left on from the night before. Magnusson, at his desk, looked as +if he'd slept in his rumpled uniform. He was a big bull of a man, and +his littered desk looked, as always, like the track of a typhoon in the +salt flats.</p> + +<p>The clutter was weighted down, here and there, with solidopic cubes of +the five Magnusson youngsters, and as usual, Magnusson was fiddling with +one of the cubes. He said, not looking up, "Sorry to pull this at the +last minute, Race. There was just time to put out a pull order and get +you off the ship, but no time to explain."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p> + +<p>I glared at him. "Seems I can't even get off the planet without trouble! +You raised hell all the time I was here, but when I try to leave—what +is this, anyhow? I'm sick of being shoved around!"</p> + +<p>Magnusson made a conciliating gesture. "Wait until you hear—" he began, +and broke off, looking at someone who was sitting in the chair in front +of his desk, somebody whose back was turned to me. Then the person +twisted and I stopped cold, blinking and wondering if this were a +hallucination and I'd wake up in the starship's skyhook, far out in +space.</p> + +<p>Then the woman cried, "Race, <i>Race</i>! Don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>I took one dazed step and another. Then she flew across the space +between us, her thin arms tangling around my neck, and I caught her up, +still disbelieving.</p> + +<p>"<i>Juli!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Race, I thought I'd die when Mack told me you were leaving tonight. +It's been the only thing that's kept me alive, knowing—knowing I'd see +you." She sobbed and laughed, her face buried in my shoulder.</p> + +<p>I let her cry for a minute, then held my sister at arm's length. For a +moment I had forgotten the six years that lay between us. Now I saw +them, all of them, printed plain on her face. Juli had been a pretty +girl. Six years had fined her face into beauty, but there was tension in +the set of her shoulders, and her gray eyes had looked on horrors.</p> + +<p>She looked tiny and thin and unbearably frail under the scanty folds of +her fur robe, a Dry-town woman's robe. Her wrists were manacled, the +jeweled tight bracelets fastened together by the links of a long fine +chain of silvered gilt that clashed a little, thinly, as her hands fell +to her sides.</p> + +<p>"What's wrong, Juli? Where's Rakhal?"</p> + +<p>She shivered and now I could see that she was in a state of shock.</p> + +<p>"Gone. He's gone, that's all I know. And—oh, Race, Race, he took Rindy +with him!"</p> + +<p>From the tone of her voice I had thought she was sobbing. Now I realized +that her eyes were dry; she was long past tears. Gently I unclasped her +clenched fingers and put her back in the chair. She sat like a doll, her +hands falling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> to her sides with a thin clash of chains. When I picked +them up and laid them in her lap she let them lie there motionless. I +stood over her and demanded, "Who's Rindy?" She didn't move.</p> + +<p>"My daughter, Race. Our little girl."</p> + +<p>Magnusson broke in, his voice harsh. "Well, Cargill, should I have let +you leave?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a damn fool!"</p> + +<p>"I was afraid you'd tell the poor kid she had to live with her own +mistakes," growled Magnusson. "You're capable of it."</p> + +<p>For the first time Juli showed a sign of animation. "I was afraid to +come to you, Mack. You never wanted me to marry Rakhal, either."</p> + +<p>"Water under the bridge," Magnusson grunted. "And I've got lads of my +own, Miss Cargill—Mrs.—" he stopped in distress, vaguely remembering +that in the Dry-towns an improper form of address can be a deadly +insult.</p> + +<p>But she guessed his predicament.</p> + +<p>"You used to call me Juli, Mack. It will do now."</p> + +<p>"You've changed," he said quietly. "Juli, then. Tell Race what you told +me. All of it."</p> + +<p>She turned to me. "I shouldn't have come for myself—"</p> + +<p>I knew that. Juli was proud, and she had always had the courage to live +with her own mistakes. When I first saw her, I knew this wouldn't be +anything so simple as the complaint of an abused wife or even an +abandoned or deserted mother. I took a chair, watching her and +listening.</p> + +<p>She began. "You made a mistake when you turned Rakhal out of the +Service, Mack. In his way he was the most loyal man you had on Wolf."</p> + +<p>Magnusson had evidently not expected her to take this tack. He scowled +and looked disconcerted, shifting uneasily in his big chair, but when +Juli did not continue, obviously awaiting his answer, he said, "Juli, he +left me no choice. I never knew how his mind worked. That final deal he +engineered—have you any idea how much that cost the Service? And have +you taken a good look at your brother's face, Juli girl?"</p> + +<p>Juli raised her eyes slowly, and I saw her flinch. I knew how she felt. +For three years I had kept my mirror covered,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> growing an untidy +straggle of beard because it hid the scars and saved me the ordeal of +facing myself to shave.</p> + +<p>Juli whispered, "Rakhal's is just as bad. Worse."</p> + +<p>"That's some satisfaction," I said, and Mack stared at us, baffled. +"Even now I don't know what it was all about."</p> + +<p>"And you never will," I said for the hundredth time. "We've been over +this before. Nobody could understand it unless he'd lived in the +Dry-towns. Let's not talk about it. You talk, Juli. What brought you +here like this? What about the kid?"</p> + +<p>"There's no way I can tell you the end without telling you the +beginning," she said reasonably. "At first Rakhal worked as a trader in +Shainsa."</p> + +<p>I wasn't surprised. The Dry-towns were the core of Terran trade on Wolf, +and it was through their cooperation that Terra existed here peaceably, +on a world only half human, or less.</p> + +<p>The men of the Dry-towns existed strangely poised between two worlds. +They had made dealings with the first Terran ships, and thus gave +entrance to the wedge of the Terran Empire. And yet they stood proud and +apart. They alone had never yielded to the Terranizing which overtakes +all Empire planets sooner or later.</p> + +<p>There were no Trade Cities in the Dry-towns; an Earthman who went there +unprotected faced a thousand deaths, each one worse than the last. There +were those who said that the men of Shainsa and Daillon and Ardcarran +had sold the rest of Wolf to the Terrans, to keep the Terrans from their +own door.</p> + +<p>Even Rakhal, who had worked with Terra since boyhood, had finally come +to a point of decision and gone his own way. And it was not Terra's way.</p> + +<p>That was what Juli was saying now.</p> + +<p>"He didn't like what Terra was doing on Wolf. I'm not so sure I like it +myself—"</p> + +<p>Magnusson interrupted her again. "Do you know what Wolf was like when we +came here? Have you seen the Slave Colony, the Idiot's Village? Your own +brother went to Shainsa and routed out The Lisse."</p> + +<p>"And Rakhal helped him!" Juli reminded him. "Even after he left you, he +tried to keep out of things. He could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> have told them a good deal that +would hurt you, after ten years in Intelligence, you know."</p> + +<p>I knew. It was, although I wasn't going to tell Juli this, one reason +why, at the end—during that terrible explosion of violence which no +normal Terran mind could comprehend—I had done my best to kill him. We +had both known that after this, the planet would not hold the two of us. +We could both go on living only by dividing it unevenly. I had been +given the slow death of the Terran Zone. And he had all the rest.</p> + +<p>"But he never told them anything! I tell you, he was one of the most +loyal—"</p> + +<p>Mack grunted, "Yeah, he's an angel. Go ahead."</p> + +<p>She didn't, not immediately. Instead she asked what sounded like an +irrelevant question. "Is it true what he told me? That the Empire has a +standing offer of a reward for a working model of a matter transmitter?"</p> + +<p>"That offer's been standing for three hundred years, Terran reckoning. +One million credits cash. Don't tell me he was figuring to invent one?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. But I think he heard rumors about one. He said with +that kind of money he could bargain the Terrans right out of Shainsa. +That was where it started. He began coming and going at odd times, but +he never said any more about it. He wouldn't talk to me at all."</p> + +<p>"When was all this?"</p> + +<p>"About four months ago."</p> + +<p>"In other words, just about the time of the riots in Charin."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "Yes. He was away in Charin when the Ghost Wind blew, and he +came back with knife cuts in his thigh. I asked if he had been mixed-up +in the anti-Terran rioting, but he wouldn't tell me. Race, I don't know +anything about politics. I don't really care. But just about that time, +the Great House in Shainsa changed hands. I'm sure Rakhal had something +to do with that.</p> + +<p>"And then—" Juli twisted her chained hands together in her lap—"he +tried to mix Rindy up in it. It was crazy, awful! He'd brought her some +sort of nonhuman toy from one of the lowland towns, Charin I think. It +was a weird thing, scared me. But he'd sit Rindy down in the sunlight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +and have her look into it, and Rindy would gabble all sorts of nonsense +about little men and birds and a toymaker."</p> + +<p>The chains about Juli's wrists clashed as she twisted her hands +together. I stared somberly at the fetters. The chain, which was long, +did not really hamper her movements much. Such chains were symbolic +ornaments, and most Dry-town women went all their lives with fettered +hands. But even after the years I'd spent in the Dry-towns, the sight +still brought an uneasiness to my throat, a vague discomfort.</p> + +<p>"We had a terrible fight over that," Juli went on. "I was afraid, afraid +of what it was doing to Rindy. I threw it out, and Rindy woke up and +screamed—" Juli checked herself and caught at vanishing self-control.</p> + +<p>"But you don't want to hear about that. It was then I threatened to +leave him and take Rindy. The next day—" Suddenly the hysteria Juli had +been forcing back broke free, and she rocked back and forth in her +chair, shaken and strangled with sobs. "He took Rindy! Oh, Race, he's +crazy, crazy. I think he hates Rindy, he—he, Race, <i>he smashed her +toys</i>. He took every toy the child had and broke them one by one, +smashed them into powder, every toy the child had—"</p> + +<p>"Juli, please, please," Magnusson pleaded, shaken. "If we're dealing +with a maniac—"</p> + +<p>"I don't dare think he'd harm her! He warned me not to come here, or I'd +never see her again, but if it meant war against Terra I had to come. +But Mack, please, don't do anything against him, please, please. He's +got my baby, he's got my little girl...." Her voice failed and she +buried her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>Mack picked up the solidopic cube of his five-year-old son, and turned +it between his pudgy fingers, saying unhappily, "Juli, we'll take every +precaution. But can't you see, we've got to get him? If there's a +question of a matter transmitter, or anything like that, in the hands of +Terra's enemies—"</p> + +<p>I could see that, too, but Juli's agonized face came between me and the +picture of disaster. I clenched my fist around the chair arm, not +surprised to see the fragile plastic buckle, crack and split under my +grip. <i>If it had been Rakhal's neck....</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mack, let me handle this. Juli, shall I find Rindy for you?"</p> + +<p>A hope was born in her ravaged face, and died, while I looked. "Race, +he'd kill you. Or have you killed."</p> + +<p>"He'd try," I admitted. The moment Rakhal knew I was outside the Terran +zone, I'd walk with death. I had accepted the code during my years in +Shainsa. But now I was an Earthman and felt only contempt.</p> + +<p>"Can't you see? Once he knows I'm at large, that very code of his will +force him to abandon any intrigue, whatever you call it, conspiracy, and +come after me first. That way we do two things: we get him out of +hiding, and we get him out of the conspiracy, if there is one."</p> + +<p>I looked at the shaking Juli and something snapped. I stooped and lifted +her, not gently, my hands biting her shoulders. "And I won't kill him, +do you hear? He may wish I had; by the time I get through with him—I'll +beat the living hell out of him; I'll cram my fists down his throat. But +I'll settle it with him like an Earthman. I won't kill him. <i>Hear me, +Juli?</i> Because that's the worst thing I could do to him—catch him and +let him live afterward!"</p> + +<p>Magnusson stepped toward me and pried my crushing hands off her arms. +Juli rubbed the bruises mechanically, not knowing she was doing it. Mack +said, "You can't do it, Cargill. You wouldn't get as far as Daillon. You +haven't been out of the zone in six years. Besides—"</p> + +<p>His eyes rested full on my face. "I hate to say this, Race, but damn it, +man, go and take a good look at yourself in a mirror. Do you think I'd +ever have pulled you off the Secret Service otherwise? How in hell can +you disguise yourself now?"</p> + +<p>"There are plenty of <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'scared'">scarred</ins> men in the Dry-towns," I said. "Rakhal will +remember my scars, but I don't think anyone else would look twice."</p> + +<p>Magnusson walked to the window. His huge form bulked against the light, +perceptibly darkening the office. He looked over the faraway panorama, +the neat bright Trade City below and the vast wilderness lying outside. +I could almost hear the wheels grinding in his head. Finally he swung +around.</p> + +<p>"Race, I've heard these rumors before. But you're the only man I could +have sent to track them down, and I wouldn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> send you out in cold blood +to be killed. I won't now. Spaceforce will pick him up."</p> + +<p>I heard the harsh inward gasp of Juli's breath and said, "Damn it, no. +The first move you make—" I couldn't finish. Rindy was in his hands, +and when I knew Rakhal, he hadn't been given to making idle threats. We +all three knew what Rakhal might do at the first hint of the long arm of +Terran law reaching out for him.</p> + +<p>I said, "For God's sake let's keep Spaceforce out of it. Let it look +like a personal matter between Rakhal and me, and let us settle it on +those terms. Remember he's got the kid."</p> + +<p>Magnusson sighed. Again he picked up one of the cubes and stared into +the clear plastic, where the three-dimensional image of a nine-year-old +girl looked out at him, smiling and innocent. His face was transparent +as the plastic cube. Mack acts tough, but he has five kids and he is as +soft as a dish of pudding where a kid is concerned.</p> + +<p>"I know. Another thing, too. If we send out Spaceforce, after all the +riots—how many Terrans are on this planet? A few thousand, no more. +What chance would we have, if it turned into a full-scale rebellion? +None at all, unless we wanted to order a massacre. Sure, we have bombs +and dis-guns and all that.</p> + +<p>"But would we dare to use them? And where would we be after that? We're +here to keep the pot from boiling over, to keep out of planetary +incidents, not push them along to a point where bluff won't work. That's +why we've got to pick up Rakhal before this gets out of hand."</p> + +<p>I said, "Give me a month. Then you can move in, if you have to. Rakhal +can't do much against Terra in that time. And I might be able to keep +Rindy out of it."</p> + +<p>Magnusson stared at me, hard-eyed. "If you do this against my advice, I +won't be able to step in and pull you out of a jam later on, you know. +And God help you if you start up the machines and can't stop them."</p> + +<p>I knew that. A month wasn't much. Wolf is forty thousand miles of +diameter, at least half unexplored; mountain and forest swarming with +nonhuman and semi-human cities where Terrans had never been.</p> + +<p>Finding Rakhal, or any one man, would be like picking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> out one star in +the Andromeda nebula. Not impossible. Not <i>quite</i> impossible.</p> + +<p>Mack's eyes wandered again to his child's face, deep in the transparent +cube. He turned it in his hands. "Okay, Cargill," he said slowly, "so +we're all crazy. I'll be crazy too. Try it your way."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER FOUR</h2> + + +<p>By sunset I was ready to leave. I hadn't had any loose ends to tie up in +the Trade City, since I'd already disposed of most of my gear before +boarding the starship. I'd never been in better circumstances to take +off for parts unknown.</p> + +<p>Mack, still disapproving, had opened the files to me, and I'd spent most +of the day in the back rooms of Floor 38, searching Intelligence files +to refresh my memory, scanning the pages of my own old reports sent +years ago from Shainsa and Daillon. He had sent out one of the nonhumans +who worked for us, to buy or acquire somewhere in the Old Town a +Dry-towner's outfit and the other things I would wear and carry.</p> + +<p>I would have liked to go myself. I felt that I needed the practice. I +was only now beginning to realize how much I might have forgotten in the +years behind a desk. But until I was ready to make my presence known, no +one must know that Race Cargill had not left Wolf on the starship.</p> + +<p>Above all, I must not be seen in the Kharsa until I went there in the +Dry-town disguise which had become, years ago, a deep second nature, +almost an alternate personality.</p> + +<p>About sunset I walked through the clean little streets of the Terran +Trade City toward the Magnusson home where Juli was waiting for me.</p> + +<p>Most of the men who go into Civil Service of the Empire come from Earth, +or from the close-in planets of Proxima and Alpha Centaurus. They go out +unmarried, and they stay that way, or marry women native to the planets +where they are sent.</p> + +<p>But Joanna Magnusson was one of the rare Earth women who had come out +with her husband, twenty years ago. There<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> are two kinds of Earthwomen +like that. They make their quarterings a little bit of home, or a little +bit of hell. Joanna had made their house look like a transported corner +of Earth.</p> + +<p>I never knew quite what to think of the Magnusson household. It seemed +to me almost madness to live under a red sun, yet come inside to yellow +light, to live on a world with the wild beauty of Wolf and yet live as +they might have lived on their home planet. Or maybe I was the one who +was out of step. I had done the reprehensible thing they called "going +native." Possibly I had done just that, and in absorbing myself into the +new world, had lost the ability to fit into the old.</p> + +<p>Joanna, a chubby comfortable woman in her forties, opened the door and +gave me her hand. "Come in, Race. Juli's expecting you."</p> + +<p>"It's good of you." I broke off, unable to express my gratitude. Juli +and I had come from Earth—our father had been an officer on the old +starship <i>Landfall</i> when Juli was only a child. He had died in a wreck +off Procyon, and Mack Magnusson had found me a place in Intelligence +because I spoke four of the Wolf languages and haunted the Kharsa with +Rakhal whenever I could get away.</p> + +<p>They had also taken Juli into their own home, like a younger sister. +They hadn't said much—because they had liked Rakhal—when the breakup +came. But that terrible night when Rakhal and I nearly killed each +other, and Rakhal came with his face bleeding and took Juli away with +him, had hurt them hard. Yet it had made them all the kinder to me.</p> + +<p>Joanna said forthrightly, "Nonsense, Race! What else could we do?" She +drew me along the hall. "You can talk in here."</p> + +<p>I delayed a minute before going through the door she indicated. "How is +Juli?"</p> + +<p>"Better, I think. I put her to bed in Meta's room, and she slept most of +the day. She'll be all right. I'll leave you to talk." Joanna opened the +door, and went away.</p> + +<p>Juli was awake and dressed, and already some of the terrible frozen +horror was gone from her face. She was still tense and devil-ridden, but +not hysterical now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>The room, one of the children's bedrooms, wasn't a big one. Even at the +top of the Secret Service, a cop doesn't live too well. Not on Terra's +Civil Service pay scale. Not, with five youngsters. It looked as if all +five of the kids had taken it to pieces, one at a time.</p> + +<p>I sat down on a too-low chair and said, "Juli, we haven't much time, +I've got to be out of the city before dark. I want to know about Rakhal, +what he does, what he's like now. Remember, I haven't seen him for +years. Tell me everything—his friends, his amusements, everything you +know."</p> + +<p>"I always thought you knew him better than I did." Juli had a fidgety +little way of coiling the links of the chain around her wrists and it +made me nervous.</p> + +<p>"It's routine, Juli. Police work. Mostly I play by ear, but I try to +start out by being methodical."</p> + +<p>She answered everything I asked her, but the sum total wasn't much and +it wouldn't help much. As I said, it's easy to disappear on Wolf. Juli +knew he had been friendly with the new holders of the Great House on +Shainsa, but she didn't even know their name.</p> + +<p>I heard one of the Magnusson children fly to the street door and return, +shouting for her mother. Joanna knocked at the door of the room and came +in.</p> + +<p>"There's a <i>chak</i> outside who wants to see you, Race."</p> + +<p>I nodded. "Probably my fancy dress. Can I change in the back room, +Joanna? Will you keep my clothes here till I get back?"</p> + +<p>I went to the door and spoke to the furred nonhuman in the sibilant +jargon of the Kharsa and he handed me what looked like a bundle of rags. +There were hard lumps inside. The <i>chak</i> said softly, "I hear a rumor in +the Kharsa, <i>Raiss</i>. Perhaps it will help you. Three men from Shainsa +are in the city. They came here to seek a woman who has vanished, and a +toymaker. They are returning at sunrise. Perhaps you can arrange to +travel in their caravan."</p> + +<p>I thanked him and carried the bundle inside. In the empty back room I +stripped to the skin and unrolled the bundle. There was a pair of baggy +striped breeches, a worn and shabby shirtcloak with capacious pockets, a +looped belt with half the gilt rubbed away and the base metal showing +through, and a scuffed pair of ankle-boots tied with frayed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> thongs of +different colors. There was a little cluster of amulets and seals. I +chose two or three of the commonest kind, and strung them around my +neck.</p> + +<p>One of the lumps in the bundle was a small jar, holding nothing but the +ordinary spices sold in the market, with which the average Dry-towner +flavors food. I rubbed some of the powder on my body, put a pinch in the +pocket of my shirtcloak, and chewed a few of the buds, wrinkling my nose +at the long-unfamiliar pungency.</p> + +<p>The second lump was a skean, and unlike the worn and shabby garments, +this was brand-new and sharp and bright, and its edge held a razor +glint. I tucked it into the clasp of my <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'shiftcloak'">shirtcloak</ins>, a reassuring weight. +It was the only weapon I could dare to carry.</p> + +<p>The last of the solid objects in the bundle was a flat wooden case, +about nine by ten inches. I slid it open. It was divided carefully into +sections cushioned with sponge-absorbent plastic, and in them lay tiny +slips of glass, on Wolf as precious as jewels. They were lenses—camera +lenses, microscope lenses, even eyeglass lenses. Packed close, there +were nearly a hundred of them nested by the shock-absorbent stuff.</p> + +<p>They were my excuse for travel to Shainsa. Over and above the +necessities of trade, a few items of Terran manufacture—vacuum tubes, +transistors, lenses for cameras and binoculars, liquors and finely +forged small tools—are literally worth their weight in platinum.</p> + +<p>Even in cities where Terrans have never gone, these things bring +exorbitant prices, and trading in them is a Dry-town privilege. Rakhal +had been a trader, so Juli told me, in fine wire and surgical +instruments. Wolf is not a mechanized planet, and has never developed +any indigenous industrial system; the psychology of the nonhuman seldom +runs to technological advances.</p> + +<p>I went down the hallway again to the room where Juli was waiting. +Catching a glimpse in a full-length mirror, I was startled. All traces +of the Terran civil servant, clumsy and uncomfortable in his ill-fitting +clothes, had dropped away. A Dry-towner, rangy and scarred, looked out +at me, and it seemed that the expression on his face was one of +amazement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> + +<p>Joanna whirled as I came into the room and visibly paled before, +recovering her self-control, she gave a nervous little giggle. +"Goodness, Race, I didn't know you!"</p> + +<p>Juli whispered, "Yes, I—I remember you better like that. You're—you +look so much like—"</p> + +<p>The door flew open and Mickey Magnusson scampered into the room, a +chubby little boy browned by a Terra-type sunlamp and glowing with +health. In his hand he held some sparkling thing that gave off tiny +flashes and glints of color.</p> + +<p>I gave the kid a grin before I realized that I was disguised anyhow and +probably a hideous sight. The little boy backed off, but Joanna put her +plump hand on his shoulder, murmuring soothing things.</p> + +<p>Mickey toddled toward Juli, holding up the shining thing in his hands as +if to display something very precious and beloved. Juli bent and held +out her arms, then her face contracted and she snatched at the +plaything.</p> + +<p>"Mickey, what's that?"</p> + +<p>He thrust it protectively behind his back. "Mine!"</p> + +<p>"Mickey, don't be naughty," Joanna chided.</p> + +<p>"Please let me see," Juli coaxed, and he brought it out, slowly, still +suspicious. It was an angled prism of crystal, star-shaped, set in a +frame which could get the star spinning like a solidopic. But it +displayed a new and comical face every time it was turned.</p> + +<p>Mickey turned it round and round, charmed at being the center of +attention. There seemed to be <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'dozen'">dozens</ins> of faces, shifting with each spin +of the prism, human and nonhuman, all dim and slightly distorted. My own +face, Juli's, Joanna's came out of the crystal surface, not a reflection +but a caricature.</p> + +<p>A choked sound from Juli made me turn in dismay. She had let herself +drop to the floor and was sitting there, white as death, supporting +herself with her two hands.</p> + +<p>"Race! Find out where he got that—that <i>thing</i>!"</p> + +<p>I bent and shook her. "What's the matter with you?" I demanded. She had +lapsed into the dazed, sleepwalking horror of this morning. She +whispered, "It's not a toy. Rindy had one. Joanna, <i>where did he get +it</i>?" She pointed at the shining thing with an expression of horror +which would have been laughable had it been less real, less filled with +terror.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>Joanna cocked her head to one side and wrinkled her forehead, +reflectively. "Why, I don't know, now you come to ask me. I thought +maybe one of the <i>chaks</i> had given it to Mickey. Bought it in the +bazaar, maybe. He loves it. Do get up off the floor, Juli!"</p> + +<p>Juli scrambled to her feet. She said, "Rindy had one. It—it terrified +me. She would sit and look at it by the hour, and—I told you about it, +Race. I threw it out once, and she woke up and screamed. She shrieked +for hours and hours and she ran out in the dark and dug for it in the +trash pile, where I'd buried it. She went out in the dark, broke all her +fingernails, but she dug it out again." She checked herself, staring at +Joanna, her eyes wide in appeal.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear," said Joanna with mild, rebuking kindness, "you needn't be +so upset. I don't think Mickey's so attached to it as all that, and +anyhow I'm not going to throw it away." She patted Juli reassuringly on +the shoulder, then gave Mickey a little shove toward the door and turned +to follow him. "You'll want to talk alone before Race leaves. Good luck, +wherever you're going, Race." She held out her hand forthrightly.</p> + +<p>"And don't worry about Juli," she added in an undertone. "We'll take +good care of her."</p> + +<p>When I came back to Juli she was standing by the window, looking through +the oddly filtered glass that dimmed the red sun to orange. "Joanna +thinks I'm crazy, Race."</p> + +<p>"She thinks you're upset."</p> + +<p>"Rindy's an odd child, a real Dry-towner. But it's not my imagination, +Race, it's not. There's something—" Suddenly she sobbed aloud again.</p> + +<p>"Homesick, Juli?"</p> + +<p>"I was, a little, the first years. But I was happy, believe me." She +turned her face to me, shining with tears. "You've got to believe I +never regretted it for a minute."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad," I said dully. <i>That made it just fine.</i></p> + +<p>"Only that toy—"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? It might be a clue to something." The toy had reminded me of +something, too, and I tried to remember what it was. I'd seen nonhuman +toys in the Kharsa, even bought them for Mack's kids. When a single man +is invited frequently to a home with five youngsters, it's about the +only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> way he can repay that hospitality, by bringing the children odd +trifles and knicknacks. But I had never seen anything quite like this +one, until—</p> + +<p>—Until yesterday. The toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa, the +one who had fled into the shrine of Nebran and vanished. He had had half +a dozen of those prism-and-star sparklers.</p> + +<p>I tried to call up a mental picture of the little toy-seller. I didn't +have much luck. I'd seen him only in that one swift glance from beneath +his hood. "Juli, have you ever seen a little man, like a <i>chak</i> only +smaller, twisted, hunchbacked? He sells toys—"</p> + +<p>She looked blank. "I don't think so, although there are dwarf <i>chaks</i> in +the Polar Cities. But I'm sure I've never seen one."</p> + +<p>"It was just an idea." But it was something to think about. A toy-seller +had vanished. Rakhal, before disappearing, had smashed all Rindy's toys. +And the sight of a plaything of cunningly-cut crystal had sent Juli into +hysterics.</p> + +<p>"I'd better go before it's too dark," I said. I buckled the final clasp +of my shirtcloak, fitted my skean another notch into it, and counted the +money Mack had advanced me for expenses. "I want to get into the Kharsa +and hunt up the caravan to Shainsa."</p> + +<p>"You're going there first?"</p> + +<p>"Where else?"</p> + +<p>Juli turned, leaning one hand against the wall. She looked frail and +ill, years older than she was. Suddenly she flung her thin arms around +me, and a link of the chain on her fettered hands struck me hard, as she +cried out, "Race, Race, he'll kill you! How can I live with that on my +conscience too?"</p> + +<p>"You can live with a hell of a lot on your conscience." I disengaged her +arms firmly from my neck. A link of the chain caught on the clasp of my +shirtcloak, and again something snapped inside me. I grasped the chain +in my two hands and gave a mighty heave, bracing my foot against the +wall. The links snapped asunder. A flying end struck Juli under the eye. +I ripped at the seals of the jeweled cuffs, tore them from her arms, +find threw the whole assembly into a corner, where it fell with a +clash.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Damn it," I roared, "that's over! You're never going to wear <i>those</i> +things again!" Maybe after six years in the Dry-towns, Juli was +beginning to guess what those six years behind a desk had meant to me.</p> + +<p>"Juli, I'll find your Rindy for you, and I'll bring Rakhal in alive. But +don't ask more than that. Just <i>alive</i>. And don't ask me how."</p> + +<p>He'd be alive when I got through with him. Sure, he'd be alive.</p> + +<p>Just.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER FIVE</h2> + + +<p>It was getting dark when I slipped through a side gate, shabby and +inconspicuous, into the spaceport square. Beyond the yellow lamps, I +knew that the old city was beginning to take on life with the falling +night. Out of the chinked pebble-houses, men and woman, human and +nonhuman, came forth into the moonlit streets.</p> + +<p>If anyone noticed me cross the square, which I doubted, they took me for +just another Dry-town vagabond, curious about the world of the strangers +from beyond the stars, and who, curiosity satisfied, was drifting back +where he belonged. I turned down one of the dark alleys that led away, +and soon was walking in the dark.</p> + +<p>The Kharsa was not unfamiliar to me as a Terran, but for the last six +years I had seen only its daytime face. I doubted if there were a dozen +Earthmen in the Old Town tonight, though I saw one in the bazaar, dirty +and lurching drunk; one of those who run renegade and homeless between +worlds, belonging to neither. This was what I had nearly become.</p> + +<p>I went further up the hill with the rising streets. Once I turned, and +saw below me the bright-lighted spaceport, the black many-windowed loom +of the skyscraper like a patch of alien shadow in the red-violet +moonlight. I turned my back on them and walked on.</p> + +<p>At the fringe of the thieves market I paused outside a wineshop where +Dry-towners were made welcome. A golden<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> nonhuman child murmured +something as she pattered by me in the street, and I stopped, gripped by +a spasm of stagefright. Had the dialect of Shainsa grown rusty on my +tongue? Spies were given short shrift on Wolf, and a mile from the +spaceport, I might as well have been on one of those moons. There were +no spaceport shockers at my back now. And someone might remember the +tale of an Earthman with a scarred face who had gone to Shainsa in +disguise....</p> + +<p>I shrugged the shirtcloak around my shoulders, pushed the door and went +in. I had remembered that Rakhal was waiting for me. Not beyond this +door, but at the end of the trail, behind some other door, somewhere. +And we have a byword in Shainsa: <i>A trail without beginning has no end</i>.</p> + +<p>Right there I stopped thinking about Juli, Rindy, the Terran Empire, or +what Rakhal, who knew too many of Terra's secrets, might do if he had +turned renegade. My fingers went up and stroked, musingly, the ridge of +scar tissue along my mouth. At that moment I was thinking only of +Rakhal, of an unsettled blood-feud, and of my revenge.</p> + +<p>Red lamps were burning inside the wineshop, where men reclined on frowsy +couches. I stumbled over one of them, found an empty place and let +myself sink down on it, arranging myself automatically in the sprawl of +Dry-towners indoors. In public they stood, rigid and formal, even to eat +and drink. Among themselves, anything less than a loose-limbed sprawl +betrayed insulting watchfulness; only a man who fears secret murder +keeps himself on guard.</p> + +<p>A girl with a tangled rope of hair down her back came toward me. Her +hands were unchained, meaning she was a woman of the lowest class, not +worth safeguarding. Her fur smock was shabby and matted with filth. I +sent her for wine. When it came it was surprisingly good, the sweet and +treacherous wine of Ardcarran. I sipped it slowly, looking round.</p> + +<p>If a caravan for Shainsa were leaving tomorrow, it would be known here. +A word dropped that I was returning there would bring me, by ironbound +custom, an invitation to travel in their company.</p> + +<p>When I sent the woman for wine a second time, a man on a nearby couch +got up, and walked over to me.</p> + +<p>He was tall even for a Dry-towner, and there was some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>thing vaguely +familiar about him. He was no riffraff of the Kharsa, either, for his +shirtcloak was of rich silk interwoven with metallic threads, and +crusted with heavy embroideries. The hilt of his skean was carved from a +single green gem. He stood looking down at me for some time before he +spoke.</p> + +<p>"I never forget a voice, although I cannot bring your face to mind. Have +I a duty toward you?"</p> + +<p>I had spoken a jargon to the girl, but he addressed me in the lilting, +sing-song speech of Shainsa. I made no answer, gesturing him to be +seated. On Wolf, formal courtesy requires a series of polite <i>non +sequiturs</i>, and while a direct question merely borders on rudeness, a +direct answer is the mark of a simpleton.</p> + +<p>"A drink?"</p> + +<p>"I joined you unasked," he retorted, and summoned the tangle-headed +girl. "Bring us better wine than this swill!"</p> + +<p>With that word and gesture I recognized him and my teeth clamped hard on +my lip. This was the loudmouth who had shown fight in the spaceport +cafe, and run away before the dark girl with the sign of Nebran sprawled +on her breast.</p> + +<p>But in this poor light he had not recognized me. I moved deliberately +into the full red glow. If he did not know me for the Terran he had +challenged last night in the spaceport cafe, it was unlikely that anyone +else would. He stared at me for some minutes, but in the end he only +shrugged and poured wine from the bottle he had ordered.</p> + +<p>Three drinks later I knew that his name was <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Kryal'">Kyral</ins> and that he was a +trader in wire and fine steel tools through the nonhuman towns. And I +had given him the name I had chosen, Rascar.</p> + +<p>He asked, "Are you thinking of returning to Shainsa?"</p> + +<p>Wary of a trap, I hesitated, but the question seemed harmless, so I only +countered, "Have you been long in the Kharsa?"</p> + +<p>"Several weeks."</p> + +<p>"Trading?"</p> + +<p>"No." He applied himself to the wine again. "I was searching for a +member of my family."</p> + +<p>"Did you find him?"</p> + +<p>"Her," said Kyral, and ceremoniously spat. "No, I didn't find her. What +is your business in Shainsa?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<p>I chuckled briefly. "As a matter of fact, I am searching for a member of +my family."</p> + +<p>He narrowed his eyelids as if he suspected me of mocking him, but +personal privacy is the most rigid convention of the Dry-towns and such +mockery showed a sensible disregard for prying questions if I did not +choose to answer them. He questioned no further.</p> + +<p>"I can use an extra man to handle the loads. Are you good with pack +animals? If so, you are welcome to travel under the protection of my +caravan."</p> + +<p>I agreed. Then, reflecting that Juli and Rakhal must, after all, be +known in Shainsa, I asked, "Do you know a trader who calls himself +Sensar?"</p> + +<p>He started slightly; I saw his eyes move along my scars. Then reserve, +like a lowered curtain, shut itself over his face, concealing a brief +satisfied glimmer. "No," he lied, and stood up.</p> + +<p>"We leave at first daylight. Have your gear ready." He flipped something +at me, and I caught it in midair. It was a stone incised with Kyral's +name in the ideographs of Shainsa. "You can sleep with the caravan if +you care to. Show that token to Cuinn."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Kyral's caravan was encamped in a barred field past the furthest gates +of the Kharsa. About a dozen men were busy loading the pack +animals—horses shipped in from Darkover, mostly. I asked the first man +I met for Cuinn. He pointed out a burly fellow in a shiny red +shirtcloak, who was busy at chewing out one of the young men for the way +he'd put a packsaddle on his beast.</p> + +<p>Shainsa is a good language for cursing, but Cuinn had a special talent +at it. I blinked in admiration while I waited for him to get his breath +so I could hand him Kyral's token.</p> + +<p>In the light of the fire I saw what I'd half expected: he was the second +of the Dry-towners who'd tried to rough me up in the spaceport cafe. +Cuinn barely glanced at the cut stone and tossed it back, pointing out +one of the packhorses. "Load your personal gear on that one, then get +busy and show this mush-headed wearer of sandals"—an insult carrying +particularly filthy implications in Shainsa—"how to fasten a +packstrap."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>He drew breath and began to swear at the luckless youngster again, and I +relaxed. He evidently hadn't recognized me, either. I took the strap in +my hand, guiding it through the saddle loop. "Like that," I told the +kid, and Cuinn stopped swearing long enough to give me a curt nod of +acknowledgment and point out a heap of boxed and crated objects.</p> + +<p>"Help him load up. We want to get clear of the city by daybreak," he +ordered, and went off to swear at someone else.</p> + +<p>Kyral turned up at dawn, and a few minutes later the camp had vanished +into a small scattering of litter and we were on our way.</p> + +<p>Kyral's caravan, in spite of Cuinn's cursing, was well-managed and +well-handled. The men were Dry-towners, eleven of them, silent and +capable and most of them very young. They were cheerful on the trail, +handled the pack animals competently, during the day, and spent most of +the nights grouped around the fire, gambling silently on the fall of the +cut-crystal prisms they used for dice.</p> + +<p>Three days out of the Kharsa I began to worry about Cuinn.</p> + +<p>It was of course a spectacular piece of bad luck to find all three of +the men from the spaceport cafe in Kyral's caravan. Kyral had obviously +not known me, and even by daylight he paid no attention to me except to +give an occasional order. The second of the three was a gangling kid who +probably never gave me a second look, let alone a third.</p> + +<p>But Cuinn was another matter. He was a man my own age, and his fierce +eyes had a shrewdness in them that I did not trust. More than once I +caught him watching me, and on the two or three occasions when he drew +me into conversation, I found his questions more direct than Dry-town +good manners allowed. I weighed the possibility that I might have to +kill him before we reached Shainsa.</p> + +<p>We crossed the foothills and began to climb upward toward the mountains. +The first few days I found myself short of breath as we worked upward +into thinner air, then my acclimatization returned and I began to fall +into the pattern of the days and nights on the trail. The Trade City<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +was still a beacon in the night, but its glow on the horizon grew dimmer +with each day's march.</p> + +<p>Higher we climbed, along dangerous trails where men had to dismount and +let the pack animals pick their way, foot by foot. Here in these +altitudes the sun at noonday blazed redder and brighter, and the +Dry-towners, who come from the parched lands in the sea-bottoms, were +burned and blistered by the fierce light. I had grown up under the +blazing sun of Terra, and a red sun like Wolf, even at its hottest, +caused me no discomfort. This alone would have made me suspect. Once +again I found Cuinn's fierce eyes watching me.</p> + +<p>As we crossed the passes and began to descend the long trail through the +thick forests, we got into nonhuman country. Racing against the Ghost +Wind, we skirted the country around Charin, and the woods inhabited by +the terrible Ya-men, birdlike creatures who turn cannibal when the Ghost +Wind blows.</p> + +<p>Later the trail wound through thicker forests of indigo trees and +grayish-purple brushwood, and at night we heard the howls of the catmen +of these latitudes. At night we set guards about the caravan, and the +dark spaces and shadows were filled with noises and queer smells and +rustlings.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the day's marches and the night watches passed without +event until the night I shared guard with Cuinn. I had posted myself at +the edge of the camp, the fire behind me. The men were sleeping rolls of +snores, huddled close around the fire. The animals, hobbled with double +ropes, front feet to hind feet, shifted uneasily and let out long +uncanny whines.</p> + +<p>I heard Cuinn pacing behind me. I heard a rustle at the edge of the +forest, a stir and whisper beyond the trees, and turned to speak to him, +then saw him slipping away toward the outskirts of the clearing.</p> + +<p>For a moment I thought nothing of it, thinking that he was taking a few +steps toward the gap in the trees where he had disappeared. I suppose I +had the idea that he had slipped away to investigate some noise or +shadow, and that I should be at hand.</p> + +<p>Then I saw the flicker of lights beyond the trees—light from the +lantern Cuinn had been carrying in his hand! He was signaling!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> + +<p>I slipped the safety clasp from the hilt of my skean and went after him. +In the dimming glow of the fire I fancied I saw luminous eyes watching +me, and the skin on my back crawled. I crept up behind him and leaped. +We went down in a tangle of flailing legs and arms, and in less than a +second he had his skean out and I was gripping his wrist, trying +desperately to force the blade away from my throat.</p> + +<p>I gasped, "Don't be a fool! One yell and the whole camp will be awake! +Who were you signaling?"</p> + +<p>In the light of the fallen lantern, lips drawn back in a snarl, he +looked almost inhuman. He strained at the knife for a moment, then +dropped it. "Let me up," he said.</p> + +<p>I got up and kicked the fallen skean toward him. "Put that away. What in +hell were you doing, trying to bring the catmen down on us?"</p> + +<p>For a moment he looked taken aback, then his fierce face closed down +again and he said wrathfully, "Can't a man walk away from the camp +without being half strangled?"</p> + +<p>I glared at him, but realized I really had nothing to go by. He might +have been answering a call of nature, and the movement of the lantern +accidental. And if someone had jumped me from behind, I might have +pulled a knife on him myself. So I only said, "Don't do it again. We're +all too jumpy."</p> + +<p>There were no other incidents that night, or the next. The night after, +while I lay huddled in my shirtcloak and blanket by the fire, I saw +Cuinn slip out of his bedroll and steal away. A moment later there was a +gleam in the darkness, but before I could summon the resolve to get up +and face it out with him, he returned, looked cautiously at the snoring +men, and crawled back into his blankets.</p> + +<p>While we were unpacking at the next camp, Kyral halted beside me. "Heard +anything queer lately? I've got the notion we're being trailed. We'll be +out of these forests tomorrow, and after that it's clear road all the +way to Shainsa. If anything's going to happen, it will happen tonight."</p> + +<p>I debated speaking to him about Cuinn's signals. No, I had my own +business waiting for me in Shainsa. Why mix myself up in some other, +private intrigue?</p> + +<p>He said, "I'm putting you and Cuinn on watch again. The old men doze +off, and the young fellows get to daydreaming<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> or fooling around. That's +all right most of the time, but I want someone who'll keep his eyes open +tonight. Did you ever know Cuinn before this?"</p> + +<p>"Never set eyes on him."</p> + +<p>"Funny, I had the notion—" He shrugged, turned away, then stopped.</p> + +<p>"Don't think twice about rousing the camp if there's any disturbance. +Better a false alarm than an ambush that catches us all in our blankets. +If it came to a fight, we might be in a bad way. We all carry skeans, +but I don't think there's a shocker in the whole camp, let alone a gun. +You don't have one by any chance?"</p> + +<p>After the men had turned in, Cuinn patrolling the camp, halted a minute +beside me and cocked his head toward the rustling forest.</p> + +<p>"What's going on in there?"</p> + +<p>"Who knows? Catmen on the prowl, probably, thinking the horses would +make a good meal, or maybe that we would."</p> + +<p>"Think it will come to a fight?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't know."</p> + +<p>He surveyed me for a moment without speaking. "And if it did?"</p> + +<p>"We'd fight." Then I sucked in my breath, for Cuinn had spoken Terran +Standard, and I, without thinking had answered in the same language. He +grinned, showing white teeth filed to a point.</p> + +<p>"I thought so!"</p> + +<p>I seized his shoulder and demanded roughly, "And what are you going to +do about it?"</p> + +<p>"That depends on you," he answered, "and what you want in Shainsa. Tell +me the truth. What were you doing in the Terran Zone?" He gave me no +chance to answer. "You know who Kyral is, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"A trader," I said, "who pays my wages and minds his own affairs." I +moved backward, hand on my skean, braced for a sudden rush. He made no +aggressive motion, however.</p> + +<p>"Kyral told me you'd been asking questions about Rakhal Sensar," he +said. "Clever. Now I, for one, could have told you he'd never set eyes +on Rakhal. I—"</p> + +<p>He broke off, hearing a noise in the forest, a long eerie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> howl. I +muttered, "If you've brought them down on us—"</p> + +<p>He shook his head urgently. "I had to take that chance, to get word to +the others. It won't work. Where's the girl?"</p> + +<p>I hardly heard him. I was hearing twigs snap, and silent sneaking feet. +I turned for a yell that would rouse the camp and Cuinn grabbed me hard, +saying insistently, "Quick! Where's the girl! Go back and tell her it +won't work! If Kyral suspected—"</p> + +<p>He never finished the sentence. Just behind us came another of the long +eerie howls. I knocked Cuinn away, and suddenly the night was filled +with crouching forms that came down on us like a whirlwind.</p> + +<p>I shouted madly as the camp came alive with men struggling out of +blankets, fighting for life itself. I ran hard, still shouting, for the +enclosure where we had tied the horses. A catman, slim and black-furred, +was crouched and cutting the hobble-strings of the nearest animal. I +hurled myself on him. He exploded, clawing, raking my shoulder with +talons that ripped the rough cloth like paper. I whipped out my skean +and slashed upward. The talons contracted in my shoulder and I gasped +with pain. Then the thing howled and fell away, clawing at the air. It +twitched and lay still.</p> + +<p>Four shots in rapid succession cracked in the clearing. Kyral to the +contrary, someone must have had a pistol. I heard one of the cat-things +wail, a hoarse dying rattle. Something dark clawed my arm and I slashed +with the knife, going down as another set of talons fastened in my back, +rolling and clutching.</p> + +<p>I managed to get the thing's forelimbs wedged under my elbow, my knee in +its spine. I heaved, bent it backward, backward till it screamed, a high +wail.</p> + +<p>Then I felt the spine snap and the dead thing mewled once, just air +escaping from collapsing lungs, and slid limp from my thigh. Erect it +had not been over four feet tall and in the light of the dying fire it +might have been a dead lynx.</p> + +<p>"Rascar...." I heard a gasp, a groan. I whirled and saw Kyral go down, +struggling, drowning in half a dozen or more of the fierce half-humans. +I leaped at the smother of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> bodies, ripped one away with a stranglehold, +slashed at its throat.</p> + +<p>They were easy to kill.</p> + +<p>I heard a high, urgent scream in their mewing tongue. Then the furred +black things seemed to melt into the forest as silently as they had +come. Kyral, dazed, his forehead running blood, his arm slashed to the +bone, was sitting on the ground, still stunned.</p> + +<p>Somebody had to take charge. I bellowed, "Lights! Get lights. They won't +come back if we have enough light, they can only see well in the dark."</p> + +<p>Someone stirred the fire. It blazed up as they piled on dead branches, +and I roughly commanded one of the kids to fill every lantern he could +find, and get them burning. Four of the dead things were lying in the +clearing. The youngster I'd helped loading horses, the first day, gazed +down at one of the catmen, half-disemboweled by somebody's skean, and +suddenly bolted for the bushes, where I heard him retching.</p> + +<p>I set the others with stronger stomachs to dragging the bodies away from +the clearing, and went back to see how badly Kyral was hurt. He had the +rip in his arm and his face was covered with blood from a shallow scalp +wound, but he insisted on getting up to inspect the hurts of the others.</p> + +<p>There was no one without a claw-wound in leg or back or shoulder, but +none were serious, and we were all feeling fairly cheerful when someone +demanded, "Where's Cuinn?"</p> + +<p>He didn't seem to be anywhere. Kyral, staggering slightly, insisted on +searching, but I felt we wouldn't find him. "He probably went off with +his friends," I snorted, and told about the signaling. Kyral looked +grave.</p> + +<p>"You should have told me," he began, but shouts from the far end of the +clearing sent us racing there. We nearly stumbled over a single, +solitary, motionless form, outstretched and lifeless, blind eyes staring +upward at the moons.</p> + +<p>It was Cuinn. And his throat had been torn completely out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER SIX</h2> + +<p>Once we were free of the forest, the road to the Dry-towns lay straight +before us, with no hidden dangers. Some of us limped for a day or two, +or favored an arm or leg clawed by the catmen, but I knew that what +Kyral said was true; it was a lucky caravan which had to fight off only +one attack.</p> + +<p>Cuinn haunted me. A night or two of turning over his cryptic words in my +mind had convinced me that whoever, or whatever he'd been signaling, it +wasn't the catmen. And his urgent question "Where's the girl?" swam +endlessly in my brain, making no more sense than when I had first heard +it. Who had he mistaken me for? What did he think I was mixed up in? And +who, above all, were the "others" who had to be signaled, at the risk of +an attack by catmen which had meant his own death?</p> + +<p>With Cuinn dead, and Kyral thinking I'd saved his life, a large part of +the responsibility for the caravan now fell on me. And strangely I +enjoyed it, making the most of this interval when I was separated from +the thought of blood-feud or revenge, the need of spying or the threat +of exposure. During those days and nights on the trail I grew back +slowly into the Dry-towner I once had been. I knew I would be sorry when +the walls of Shainsa rose on the horizon, bringing me back inescapably +to my own quest.</p> + +<p>We swung wide, leaving the straight trail to Shainsa, and Kyral +announced his intention of stopping for half a day at Canarsa, one of +the walled nonhuman cities which lay well off the traveled road. To my +inadvertent show of surprise, he returned that he had trading +connections there.</p> + +<p>"We all need a day's rest, and the Silent Ones will buy from me, though +they have few dealings with men. Look here, I owe you something. You +have lenses? You can get a better price in Canarsa than you'd get in +Ardcarran or Shainsa. Come along with me, and I'll vouch for you."</p> + +<p>Kyral had been most friendly since the night I had dug him out from +under the catmen, and I knew no way to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> refuse without exposing myself +for the sham trader I was. But I was deathly apprehensive. Even with +Rakhal I had never entered any of the nonhuman towns.</p> + +<p>On Wolf, human and nonhuman have lived side by side for centuries. And +the human is not always the superior being. I might pass, among the +Dry-towners and the relatively stupid humanoid <i>chaks</i>, for another +Dry-towner. But Rakhal had cautioned me I could not pass among nonhumans +for native Wolfan, and warned me against trying.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, I accompanied Kyral, carrying the box which had cost about +a week's pay in the Terran Zone and was worth a small fortune in the +Dry-towns.</p> + +<p>Canarsa seemed, inside the gates, like any other town. The houses were +round, beehive fashion, and the streets totally empty. Just inside the +gates a hooded figure greeted us, and gestured us by signs to follow +him. He was covered from head to foot with some coarse and shiny fiber +woven into stuff that looked like sacking.</p> + +<p>But under the thick hooding was horror. It slithered and it had nothing +like a recognizable human shape or walk, and I felt the primeval ape in +me cowering and gibbering in a corner of my brain. Kyral muttered, close +to my ear, "No outsider is ever allowed to look on the Silent Ones in +their real form. I think they're deaf and dumb, but be damn careful."</p> + +<p>"You bet," I whispered, and was glad the streets were empty. I walked +along, trying not to look at the gliding motion of that shrouded thing +up ahead.</p> + +<p>The trading was done in an open hut of reeds which looked as if it had +been built in a hurry, and was not square, round, hexagonal or any other +recognizable geometrical shape. It formed a pattern of its own, +presumably, but my human eyes couldn't see it. Kyral said in a breath of +a whisper, "They'll tear it down and burn it after we leave. We're +supposed to have contaminated it too greatly for any of the Silent Ones +ever to enter again. My family has traded with them for centuries, and +we're almost the only ones who have ever entered the city."</p> + +<p>Then two of the Silent Ones of Canarsa, also covered with that coarse +shiny stuff, slithered into the hut, and Kyral choked off his words as +if he had swallowed them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was the strangest trading I had ever done. Kyral laid out the small +forged-steel tools and the coils of thin fine wire, and I unpacked my +lenses and laid them out in neat rows. The Silent Ones neither spoke nor +moved, but through a thin place in the gray veiling I saw a speck which +might have been a phosphorescent eye, moving back and forth as if +scanning the things laid out for their inspection.</p> + +<p>Then I smothered a gasp, for suddenly blank spaces appeared in the rows +of merchandise. Certain small tools—wirecutters, calipers, surgical +scissors—had vanished, and all the coils of wire had disappeared. +Blanks equally had appeared in the rows of lenses; all of my tiny, +powerful <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'miscroscope'">microscope</ins> lenses had vanished. I cast a quick glance at Kyral, +but he seemed unsurprised. I recalled vague rumors of the Silent Ones, +and concluded that, eerie though it seemed, this was merely their way of +doing business.</p> + +<p>Kyral pointed at one of the tools, at an exceptionally fine pair of +binocular lenses, at the last of the coils of wire. The shrouded ones +did not move, but the lenses and the wire vanished. The small tool +remained, and after a moment Kyral dropped his hand.</p> + +<p>I took my cue from Kyral and remained motionless, awaiting whatever +surprise was coming. I had halfway expected what happened next. In the +blank spaces, little points of light began to glimmer, and after a +moment, blue and red and green gem-stones appeared there. To me the +substitution appeared roughly equitable and fair, though I am no judge +of the fine points of gems.</p> + +<p>Kyral scowled slightly and pointed to one of the green gems, and after a +moment it whisked away and a blue one took its place. In another spot +where a fine set of surgical instruments had lain, Kyral pointed at the +blue gem which now lay there, shook his head and held out three fingers. +After a moment, a second blue stone lay winking beside the first.</p> + +<p>Kyral did not move, but inexorably held out the three fingers. There was +a little swirling in the air, and then both gems vanished, and the case +of surgical instruments lay in their place.</p> + +<p>Still Kyral did not move, but held the three fingers out for a full +minute. Finally he dropped them and bent to pick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> up the case +instruments. Again the little swirl in the air, and the instruments +vanished. In their place lay three of the blue gems. My mouth twitched +in the first amusement I had felt since we entered this uncanny place. +Evidently bargaining with the Silent Ones was not a great deal different +than bargaining with anyone anywhere. Nevertheless, under the eyes of +those shrouded but horrible forms—if they had eyes, which I doubted—I +had no impulse to protest their offered prices.</p> + +<p>I gathered up the rejected lenses, repacked them neatly, and helped +Kyral recrate the tools and instruments the Silent Ones had not wanted. +I noticed that in addition to the microscope lenses and surgical +instruments, they had taken all the fine wire. I couldn't imagine, and +didn't particularly want to imagine, what they intended to do with it.</p> + +<p>On our way back through the streets, unshepherded this time, Kyral's +tongue was loosened as if with a great release from tension. "They're +psychokinetics," he told me. "Quite a few of the nonhuman races are. I +guess they have to be, having no eyes and no hands. But sometimes I +wonder if we of the Dry-towns ought to deal with them at all."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" I asked, not really listening. I was thinking mostly +about the way the small objects had melted away and reappeared. The +sight had stirred some uncomfortable memory, a vague sense of danger. It +was not tangible enough for me to know why I feared it, but just a +subliminal uneasiness that kept prodding at me, like a tooth that isn't +quite aching yet.</p> + +<p>Kyral said, "We of Shainsa live between fire and flood. Terra on the one +hand, and on the other maybe something worse, who knows? We know so +little about the Silent Ones, and those like them. Who knows, maybe +we're giving them the weapons to destroy us—" He broke off, with a +gasp, and stood staring down one of the streets.</p> + +<p>It lay open and bare between two rows of round houses, and Kyral was +staring fixedly at a doorway which had opened there. I followed his +paralyzed gaze, and saw the girl.</p> + +<p>Hair like spun black glass fell in hard waves around her shoulders, and +the red eyes smiled with alien malice, alien mischief, beneath the dark +crown of little stars. And the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> Toad God sprawled in hideous +embroideries across the white folds of her breast.</p> + +<p>Kyral gulped hoarsely. His hand flew up as he clutched the charms strung +about his neck. I imitated the gesture mechanically, watching Kyral, +wondering if he would turn and run again. But he stood frozen for a +minute. Then the spell broke and he took one step toward the girl, arms +outstretched.</p> + +<p>"Miellyn!" he cried, and there was heartbreak in his voice. And again, +the cry making ringing echoes in the strange street:</p> + +<p>"Miellyn! <i>Miellyn!</i>"</p> + +<p>This time it was the girl who whirled and fled. Her white robes +fluttered and I saw the twinkle of her flying feet as she vanished into +a space between the houses and was gone.</p> + +<p>Kyral took one blind step down the street, then another. But before he +could burst into a run I had him by the arm, dragging him back to +sanity.</p> + +<p>"Man, you've gone mad! Chase, in a nonhuman town?"</p> + +<p>He struggled for a minute, then, with a harsh sigh, he said, "It's all +right, I won't—" and shook loose from my arm.</p> + +<p>He did not speak again until we reached the gates of Canarsa and they +closed, silently and untouched, behind us. I had forgotten the place +already. I had space only to think of the girl, whose face I had not +forgotten since the moment when she saved me and disappeared. Now she +had appeared again to Kyral. What did it all mean?</p> + +<p>I asked, as we walked toward the camp, "Do you know that girl?" But I +knew the question was futile. Kyral's face was closed, conceding +nothing, and his friendliness had vanished completely.</p> + +<p>He said, "Now I know you. You saved me from the catmen, and again in +Canarsa, so my hands are bound from harming you. But it is evil to have +dealings with those who have been touched by the Toad God." He spat +noisily on the ground, looked at me with loathing, and said, "We will +reach Shainsa in three days. Stay away from me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER SEVEN</h2> + +<p>Shainsa, first in the chain of Dry-towns that lie in the bed of a +long-dried ocean, is set at the center of a great alkali plain; a dusty, +parched city bleached by a million years of sun. The houses are high, +spreading buildings with many rooms and wide windows. The poorer sort +were made of sun-dried brick, the more imposing being cut from the +bleached salt stone of the cliffs that rise behind the city.</p> + +<p>News travels fast in the Dry-towns. If Rakhal were in the city, he'd +soon know that I was here, and guess who I was or why I'd come. I might +disguise myself so that my own sister, or the mother who bore me, would +not know me. But I had no illusions about my ability to disguise myself +from Rakhal. He had created the disguise that was me.</p> + +<p>When the second sun set, red and burning, behind the salt cliffs, I knew +he was not in Shainsa, but I stayed on, waiting for something to happen. +At night I slept in a cubbyhole behind a wineshop, paying an inordinate +price for that very dubious privilege. And every day in the sleepy +silence of the blood-red noon I paced the public square of Shainsa.</p> + +<p>This went on for four days. No one took the slightest notice of another +nameless man in a shabby shirtcloak, without name or identity or known +business. No one appeared to see me except the dusty children, with pale +fleecy hair, who played their patient games on the windswept curbing of +the square. They surveyed my scarred face with neither curiosity or +fear, and it occurred to me that Rindy might be such another as these.</p> + +<p>If I had still been thinking like an Earthman, I might have tried to +question one of the children, or win their confidence. But I had a +deeper game in hand.</p> + +<p>On the fifth day I was so much a fixture that my pacing went unnoticed +even by the children. On the gray moss of the square, a few +dried-looking old men, their faces as faded as their shirtcloaks and +bearing the knife scars of a hundred forgotten fights, drowsed on the +stone benches. And along the flagged walk at the edge of the square, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +suddenly as an autumn storm in the salt flats, a woman came walking.</p> + +<p>She was tall, with a proud swinging walk, and a metallic clashing kept +rhythm to her swift steps. Her arms were fettered, each wrist bound with +a jeweled bracelet and the bracelets linked together by a long, +silver-gilt chain passed through a silken loop at her waist. From the +loop swung a tiny golden padlock, but in the lock stood an even tinier +key, signifying that she was a higher caste than her husband or consort, +that her fettering was by choice and not command.</p> + +<p>She stopped directly before me and raised her arm in formal greeting +like a man. The chain made a tinkling sound in the hushed square as her +other hand was pulled up tight against the silken loop at her waist. She +stood surveying me for some moments, and finally I raised my head and +returned her gaze. I don't know why I had expected her to have hair like +spun black glass and eyes that burned with a red reflection of the +burning star.</p> + +<p>This woman's eyes were darker than the poison-berries of the salt +cliffs, and her mouth was a cut berry that looked just as dangerous. She +was young, the slimness of her shoulders and the narrow steel-chained +wrists told me how very young she was, but her face had seen weather and +storms, and her dark eyes had weathered worse psychic storms than that. +She did not flinch at the sight of my scars, and met my gaze without +dropping her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You are a stranger. What is your business in Shainsa?"</p> + +<p>I met the direct question with the insolence it demanded, hardly moving +my lips. "I have come to buy women for the brothels of Ardcarran. +Perhaps when washed you might be suitable. Who could arrange for your +sale?"</p> + +<p>She took the rebuke impassively, though the bitter crimson of her mouth +twitched a little in mischief or rage. But she made no sign. The battle +was joined between us, and I knew already that it would be fought to the +end.</p> + +<p>From somewhere in her draperies, something fell to the ground with a +little tinkle. But I knew that trick too and I did not move. Finally she +went away without bending to retrieve it and when I looked around I saw +that all the fleece-haired children had stolen away, leaving their +play<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>things lying on the curbing. But one or two of the gaffers on the +stone benches, who were old enough to show curiosity without losing +face, were watching me with impassive eyes.</p> + +<p>I could have asked the woman's name then, but I held back, knowing it +could only lessen the prestige I had gained from the encounter. I +glanced down, without seeming to do so, at the tiny mirror which had +fallen from the recesses of the fur robe. Her name might have been +inscribed on the reverse.</p> + +<p>But I left it lying there to be picked up by the children when they +returned, and went back to the wineshop. I had accomplished my first +objective; if you can't be inconspicuous, be so damned conspicuous that +nobody can miss you. And that in itself is a fair concealment. How many +people can accurately describe a street riot?</p> + +<p>I was finishing off a bad meal with a stone bottle of worse wine when +the <i>chak</i> came in, disregarding the proprietor, and made straight for +me. He was furred immaculately white. His velvet muzzle was contracted +as if the very smells might soil it, and he kept a dainty paw +outstretched to ward off accidental contact with greasy counters or +tables or tapestries. His fur was scented, and his throat circled with a +collar of embroidered silk. This pampered minion surveyed me with the +innocent malice of an uninvolved nonhuman for merely human intrigues.</p> + +<p>"You are wanted in the Great House of Shanitha, thcarred man." He spoke +the Shainsa dialect with an affected lisp. "Will it pleathe you, come +wis' me?"</p> + +<p>I came, with no more than polite protest, but was startled. I had not +expected the encounter to reach the Great House so soon. Shainsa's Great +House had changed hands four times since I had last been in Shainsa. I +wasn't overly anxious to appear there.</p> + +<p>The white <i>chak</i>, as out of place in the rough Dry-town as a jewel in +the streets or a raindrop in the desert, led me along a winding +boulevard to an outlying district. He made no attempt to engage me in +conversation, and indeed I got the distinct impression that this +cockscomb of a nonhuman considered me well beneath his notice. He seemed +much more aware of the blowing dust in the street, which ruffled and +smudged his carefully combed fur.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Great House was carved from blocks of rough pink basalt, the entry +guarded by two great caryatids enwrapped in chains of carved metal, set +somehow into the surface of the basalt. The gilt had long ago worn away +from the chains so that it alternately gleamed gold or smudged base +metal. The caryatids were patient and blind, their jewel-eyes long +vanished under a hotter sun than today's.</p> + +<p>The entrance hall was enormous. A Terran starship could have stood +upright inside it, was my first impression, but I dismissed that thought +quickly; any Terran thought was apt to betray me. But the main hall was +built on a scale even more huge, and it was even colder than the +legendary hell of the <i>chaks</i>. It was far too big for the people in it.</p> + +<p>There was a little solar heater in the ceiling, but it didn't help much. +A dim glow came from a metal brazier but that didn't help much either. +The <i>chak</i> melted into the shadows, and I went down the steps into the +hall by myself, feeling carefully for each step with my feet and trying +not to seem to be doing so. My comparative night-blindness is the only +significant way in which I really differ from a native Wolfan.</p> + +<p>There were three men, two women and a child in the room. They were all +Dry-towners and had an obscure family likeness, and they all wore rich +garments of fur dyed in many colors. One of the men, old and stooped and +withered, was doing something to the brazier. A slim boy of fourteen was +sitting cross-legged on a pile of cushions in the corner. There was +something wrong with his legs.</p> + +<p>A girl of ten in a too-short smock that showed long spider-thin legs +above her low leather boots was playing with some sort of shimmery +crystals, spilling them out into patterns and scooping them up again +from the uneven stones of the floor. One of the women was a fat, creased +slattern, whose jewels and dyed furs did not disguise her greasy +slovenliness.</p> + +<p>Her hands were unchained, and she was biting into a fruit which dripped +red juice down the rich blue fur of her robe. The old man gave her a +look like murder as I came in, and she straightened slightly but did not +discard the fruit. The whole room had a curious look of austere, +dignified poverty, to which the fat woman was the only discordant note.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<p>But it was the remaining man and woman who drew my attention, so that I +noticed the others only peripherally, in their outermost orbit. One was +Kyral, standing at the foot of the dais and glowering at me.</p> + +<p>The other was the dark-eyed woman I had rebuked today in the public +square.</p> + +<p>Kyral said, "So it's you." And his voice held nothing. Not rebuke, not +friendliness or a lack of it, not even hatred.</p> + +<p>Nothing.</p> + +<p>There was only one way to meet it. I faced the girl—she was sitting on +a thronelike chair next to the fat woman, and looked like a doe next to +a pig—and said boldly, "I assume this summons to mean that you informed +your kinsmen of my offer."</p> + +<p>She flushed, and that was triumph enough. I held back the triumph, +however, wary of overconfidence. The gaffer laughed the high cackle of +age, and Kyral broke in with a sharp, angry monosyllable by which I knew +that my remark had indeed been repeated, and had lost nothing in the +telling. But only the line of his jaw betrayed the anger as he said +calmly, "Be quiet, Dallisa. Where did you pick this up?"</p> + +<p>I said boldly, "The Great House has changed rulers since last I smelled +the salt cliffs. Newcomers do not know my name and theirs is unknown to +me."</p> + +<p>The old gaffer said thinly to Kyral, "Our name has lost <i>kihar</i>. One +daughter is lured away by the Toymaker and another babbles with +strangers in the square, and a homeless no-good of the streets does not +<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'known'">know</ins> our name."</p> + +<p>My eyes, growing accustomed to the dark blaze of the brazier, saw that +Kyral was biting his lip and scowling. Then he gestured to a table where +an array of glassware was set, and at the gesture, the white <i>chak</i> came +on noiseless feet and poured wine.</p> + +<p>"If you have no blood-feud with my family, will you drink with me?"</p> + +<p>"I will," I said, relaxing. Even if he had associated the trader with +the scarred Earthman of the spaceport, he seemed to have decided to drop +the matter. He seemed startled, but he waited until I had lifted the +glass and taken<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> a sip. Then, with a movement like lightning, he leaped +from the dais and struck the glass from my lips.</p> + +<p>I staggered back, wiping my cut mouth, in a split-second juggling +possibilities. The insult was terrible and deadly. I could do nothing +now but fight. Men had been murdered in Shainsa for far less. I had come +to settle one feud, not involve myself in another, but even while these +lightning thoughts flickered in my mind, I had whipped out my skean and +I was surprised at the shrillness of my own voice.</p> + +<p>"You contrive offense beneath your own roof—"</p> + +<p>"Spy and renegade!" Kyral thundered. He did not touch his skean. From +the table he caught a long four-thonged whip, making it whistle through +the air. The long-legged child scuttled backward. I stepped back one +pace, trying to conceal my desperate puzzlement. I could not guess what +had prompted Kyral's attack, but whatever it was, I must have made some +bad mistake and could count myself lucky to get out of there alive.</p> + +<p>Kyral's voice perceptibly trembled with rage. "You dare to come into my +own home after I have tracked you to the Kharsa and back, blind fool +that I was! But now you shall pay."</p> + +<p>The whip sang through the air, hissing past my shoulders. I dodged to +one side, retreating step by step as Kyral swung the powerful thongs. It +cracked again, and a pain like the burning of red-hot irons seared my +upper arm. My skean rattled down from numb fingers.</p> + +<p>The whip whacked the floor.</p> + +<p>"Pick up your skean," said Kyral. "Pick it up if you dare." He poised +the lash again.</p> + +<p>The fat woman screamed.</p> + +<p>I stood rigid, gauging my chances of disarming him with a sudden leap. +Suddenly the girl Dallisa leaped from her seat with a harsh musical +chiming of chains.</p> + +<p>"Kyral, no! No, Kyral!"</p> + +<p>He moved slightly, but did not take his eyes from me. "Get back, +Dallisa."</p> + +<p>"No! Wait!" She ran to him and caught his whip-arm, dragging it down, +and spoke to him hurriedly and urgently. Kyral's face changed as she +spoke; he drew a long breath and threw the whip down beside my skean on +the floor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Answer straight, on your life. What are you doing in Shainsa?"</p> + +<p>I could hardly take it in that for the moment I was reprieved from +sudden death, from being beaten into bloody death there at Kyral's feet. +The girl went back to her thronelike chair. Now I must either tell the +truth or a convincing lie, and I was lost in a game where I didn't know +the rules. The explanation I thought might get me out alive might be the +very one which would bring down instant and painful death. Suddenly, +with a poignancy that was almost pain, I wished Rakhal were standing +here at my side.</p> + +<p>But I had to bluff it out alone.</p> + +<p>If they had recognized me for Race Cargill, the Terran spy who had often +been in Shainsa, they might release me—it was possible, I supposed, +that they were Terran sympathizers. On the other hand, Kyral's shouts of +"Spy, renegade!" seemed to suggest the opposite.</p> + +<p>I stood trying to ignore the searing pain in my lashed arm, but I knew +that blood was running hot down my shoulder. Finally I said, "I came to +settle blood-feud."</p> + +<p>Kyral's lips thinned in what might have been meant for a smile. "You +shall, assuredly. But with whom, remains to be seen."</p> + +<p>Knowing I had nothing more to lose, I said, "With a renegade called +Rakhal Sensar."</p> + +<p>Only the old man echoed my words dully, "Rakhal Sensar?"</p> + +<p>I felt heartened, seeing I wasn't dead yet.</p> + +<p>"I have sworn to kill him."</p> + +<p>Kyral suddenly clapped his hands and shouted to the white <i>chak</i> to +clean up the broken glass on the floor. He said huskily, "You are not +yourself Rakhal Sensar?"</p> + +<p>"I <i>told</i> you he wasn't," said Dallisa, high and hysterically. "I <i>told</i> +you he wasn't."</p> + +<p>"A scarred man, tall—what was I to think?" Kyral sounded and looked +badly shaken. He filled a glass himself and handed it to me, saying +hoarsely, "I did not believe even the renegade Rakhal would break the +code so far as to drink with me."</p> + +<p>"He would not." I could be positive about this. The codes of Terra had +made some superficial impress on Rakhal, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> down deep his own world +held sway. If these men were at blood-feud with Rakhal and he stood here +where I stood, he would have let himself be beaten into bloody rags +before tasting their wine.</p> + +<p>I took the glass, raised it and drained it. Then, holding it out before +me, I said, "Rakhal's life is mine. But I swear by the red star and by +the unmoving mountains, by the black snow and by the Ghost Wind, I have +no quarrel with any beneath this roof." I cast the glass to the floor, +where it shattered on the stones.</p> + +<p>Kyral hesitated, but under the blazing eyes of the girl he quickly +poured himself a glass of the wine and drank a few sips, then flung down +the glass. He stepped forward and laid his hands on my shoulders. I +winced as he touched the welt of the lash and could not raise my own arm +to complete the ceremonial toast.</p> + +<p>Kyral stepped away and shrugged. "Shall I have one of the women see to +your hurt?" He looked at Dallisa, but she twisted her mouth. "Do it +yourself!"</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," I said, not truthfully. "But I demand in requital that +since we are bound by spilled blood under your roof, that you give me +what news you have of Rakhal, the spy and renegade."</p> + +<p>Kyral said fiercely, "If I knew, would I be under my own roof?"</p> + +<p>The old gaffer on the dais broke into shrill whining laughter. "You have +drunk wi' him, Kyral, now he's bound you not to do him harm! I know the +story of Rakhal! He was spy for Terra twelve years. Twelve years, and +then he fought and flung their filthy money in their faces and left 'em. +But his partner was some Dry-town halfbreed or Terran spy and they +fought wi' clawed gloves, and near killed one another except the +Terrans, who have no honor, stopped 'em. See the marks of the <i>kifirgh</i> +on his face!"</p> + +<p>"By Sharra the golden-chained," said Kyral, gazing at me with something +like a grin. "You are, if nothing else, a very clever man. What are you, +spy, or half-caste of some Ardcarran slut?"</p> + +<p>"What I am doesn't matter to you," I said. "You have blood-feud with +Rakhal, but mine is older than yours and his life is mine. As you are +bound in honor to kill"—the formal<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> phrases came easily now to my +tongue; the Earthman had slipped away—"so you are bound in honor to +help me kill. If anyone beneath your roof knows anything of Rakhal—"</p> + +<p>Kyral's smile bared his teeth.</p> + +<p>"Rakhal works against the Son of the Ape," he said, using the insulting +Wolf term for the Terrans. "If we help you to kill him, we remove a goad +from their flanks. I prefer to let the filthy <i>Terranan</i> spend their +strength trying to remove it themselves. Moreover, I believe you are +yourself an Earthman.</p> + +<p>"You have no right to the courtesy I extend to we, the People of the +Sky. Yet you have drunk wine with me and I have no quarrel with you." He +raised his hand in dismissal, outfencing me. "Leave my roof in safety +and my city with honor."</p> + +<p>I could not protest or plead. A man's <i>kihar</i>, his personal dignity, is +a precious thing in Shainsa, and he had placed me so I could not +compromise mine further in words. Yet I lost <i>kihar</i> equally if I left +at his bidding, like an inferior dismissed.</p> + +<p>One desperate gamble remained.</p> + +<p>"A word," I said, raising my hand, and while he half turned, startled, +believing I was indeed about to compromise my dignity by a further plea, +I flung it at him:</p> + +<p>"I will bet <i>shegri</i> with you."</p> + +<p>His iron composure looked shaken. I had delivered a blow to his belief +that I was an Earthman, for it is doubtful if there are six Earthmen on +Wolf who know about <i>shegri</i>, the dangerous game of the Dry-towns.</p> + +<p>It is no ordinary gamble, for what the bettor stakes is his life, +possibly his reason. Rarely indeed will a man bet <i>shegri</i> unless he has +nothing further to lose.</p> + +<p>It is a cruel, possibly decadent game, which has no parallel anywhere in +the known universe.</p> + +<p>But I had no choice. I had struck a cold trail in Shainsa. Rakhal might +be anywhere on the planet and half of Magnusson's month was already up. +Unless I could force Kyral to tell what he knew, I might as well quit.</p> + +<p>So I repeated: "I will bet <i>shegri</i> with you."</p> + +<p>And Kyral stood unmoving.</p> + +<p>For what the <i>shegrin</i> wagers is his courage and endur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>ance in the face +of torture and an unknown fate. On his side, the stakes are clearly +determined beforehand. But if he loses, his punishment or penalty is at +the whim of the one who has accepted him, and he may be put to whatever +doom the winner determines.</p> + +<p>And this is the contest:</p> + +<p>The <i>shegrin</i> permits himself to be tortured from sunrise to sunset. If +he endures he wins. It is as simple as that. He can stop the torture at +any moment by a word, but to do so is a concession of defeat.</p> + +<p>This is not as dangerous as it might, at first, seem. The other party to +the bet is bound by the ironclad codes of Wolf to inflict no permanent +physical damage (no injury that will not heal with three suncourses). +But from sunrise to sunset, any torment or painful ingenuity which the +half-human mentality of Wolf can devise must be endured.</p> + +<p>The man who can outthink the torture of the moment, the man who can hold +in his mind the single thought of his goal—that man can claim the +stakes he has set, as well as other concessions made traditional.</p> + +<p>The silence grew in the hall. Dallisa had straightened and was watching +me intently, her lips parted and the tip of a little red tongue visible +between her teeth. The only sound was the tiny crunching as the fat +woman nibbled at nuts and cast their shells into the brazier. Even the +child on the steps had abandoned her game with the crystal dice, and sat +looking up at me with her mouth open. Finally Kyral demanded, "Your +stakes?"</p> + +<p>"Tell me all you know of Rakhal Sensar and keep silence about me in +Shainsa."</p> + +<p>"By the red shadow," Kyral burst out, "you have courage, Rascar!"</p> + +<p>"Say only yes or no!" I retorted.</p> + +<p>Rebuked, he fell silent. Dallisa leaned forward and again, for some +unknown reason, I thought of a girl with hair like spun black glass.</p> + +<p>Kyral raised his hand. "I say no. I have blood-feud with Rakhal and I +will not sell his death to another. Further, I believe you are Terran +and I will not deal with you. And finally, you have twice saved my life +and I would find small<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> pleasure in torturing you. I say no. Drink again +with me and we part without a quarrel."</p> + +<p>Beaten, I turned to go.</p> + +<p>"Wait," said Dallisa.</p> + +<p>She stood up and came down from the dais, slowly this time, walking with +dignity to the rhythm of her musically clashing chains. "I have a +quarrel with this man."</p> + +<p>I started to say that I did not quarrel with women, and stopped myself. +The Terran concept of chivalry has no equivalent on Wolf.</p> + +<p>She looked at me with her dark poison-berry eyes, icy and level and +amused, and said, "I will bet <i>shegri</i> with you, unless you fear me, +Rascar."</p> + +<p>And I knew suddenly that if I lost, I might better have trusted myself +to Kyral and his whip, or to the wild beast-things of the mountains.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER EIGHT</h2> + + +<p>I slept little that night.</p> + +<p>There is a tale told in Daillon of a <i>shegri</i> where the challenger was +left in a room alone, where he was blindfolded and told to await the +beginning of the torment.</p> + +<p>Somewhere in those dark hours of waiting, between the unknown and the +unexpected, the hours of telling over to himself the horrors of past +<i>shegri</i>, the torture of anticipation alone became the unbearable. A +little past noon he collapsed in screams of horror and died raving, +unmarred, untouched.</p> + +<p>Daybreak came slowly, and with the first streamers of light came Dallisa +and the white <i>chak</i>, maliciously uninvolved, sniffing his way through +the shabby poverty of the great hall. They took me to a lower dungeon +where the slant of the sunlight was less visible. Dallisa said, "The sun +has risen."</p> + +<p>I said nothing. Any word may be interpreted as a confession of defeat. I +resolved to give them no excuse. But my skin crawled and I had that +peculiar prickling sensation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> where the hair on my forearms was +bristling erect with tension and fear.</p> + +<p>Dallisa said to the <i>chak</i>, "His gear was not searched. See that he has +swallowed no anesthetic drugs."</p> + +<p>Briefly I gave her credit for thoroughness, even while I wondered in a +split second why I had not thought of this. Drugs could blur +consciousness, at least, or suspend reality. The white nonhuman sprang +forward and pinioned my arms with one strong, spring-steel forearm. With +his other hand he forced my jaws open. I felt the furred fingers at the +back of my throat, gagged, struggled briefly and doubled up in +uncontrollable retching.</p> + +<p>Dallisa's poison-berry-eyes regarded me levelly as I struggled upright, +fighting off the dizzy sickness of disgust. Something about her +impassive face stopped me cold. I had been, momentarily, raging with +fury and humiliation. Now I realized that this had been a calculated, +careful gesture to make me lose my temper and thus sap my resistance.</p> + +<p>If she could set me to fighting, if she could make me spend my strength +in rage, my own imagination would fight on her side to make me lose +control before the end. Swimming in the glare of her eyes, I realized +she had never thought for a moment that I had taken any drug. Acting on +Kyral's hint that I was a Terran, she was taking advantage of the +well-known Terran revulsion for the nonhuman.</p> + +<p>"Blindfold him," Dallisa commanded, then instantly countermanded that: +"No, strip him first."</p> + +<p>The <i>chak</i> ripped off shirtcloak, shirt, shoes, breeches, and I had my +first triumph when the wealed clawmarks on my shoulders—worse, if +possible, than those which disfigured my face—were laid bare. The +<i>chak</i> screwed up his muzzle in fastidious horror, and Dallisa looked +shaken. I could almost read her thoughts:</p> + +<p><i>If he endured this, what hope have I to make him cry mercy?</i></p> + +<p>Briefly I remembered the months I lay feverish and half dead, waiting +for the wounds Rakhal had inflicted to heal, those months when I had +believed that nothing would ever hurt me again, that I had known the +worst of all suffering. But I had been younger then.</p> + +<p>Dallisa had picked up two small sharp knives. She weighed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> them, +briefly, gesturing to the <i>chak</i>. Without resisting, I let myself be +manhandled backward, spreadeagled against the wall.</p> + +<p>Dallisa commanded, "Drive the knives through his palms to the wall!"</p> + +<p>My hands twitched convulsively, anticipating the slash of steel, and my +throat closed in spasmodic dread. This was breaking the compact, bound +as they were not to inflict physical damage. I opened my lips to protest +this breaking of the bond of honor and met her dark blazing stare, and +suddenly the sweat broke out on my forehead. I had placed myself wholly +in their hands, and as Kyral had said, they were in no way bound by +honor to respect a pledge to a Terran!</p> + +<p>Then, as my hands clenched into fists, I forced myself to relax. This +was a bluff, a mental trick to needle me into breaking the pact and +pleading for mercy. I set my lips, spread my palms wide against the wall +and waited impassively.</p> + +<p>She said in her lilting voice, "Take care not to sever the tendons, or +his hands would be paralyzed and he may claim we have broken our +compact."</p> + +<p>The points of the steel, razor-sharp, touched my palms, and I felt blood +run down my hand before the pain. With an effort that turned my face +white, I did not pull away from the point. The knives drove deeper.</p> + +<p>Dallisa gestured to the <i>chak</i>. The knives dropped. Two pinpricks, a +quarter of an inch deep, stung in my palm. I had outbluffed her. Had I?</p> + +<p>If I had expected her to betray disappointment—and I had—I was +disappointed. Abruptly, as if the game had wearied her already, she +gestured, and I could not hold back a gasp as my arms were hauled up +over my head, twisted violently around one another and trussed with thin +cords that bit deep into the flesh. Then the rough upward pull almost +jerked my shoulders from their sockets and I heard the giant <i>chak</i> +grunt with effort as I was hauled upward until my feet barely, on +tiptoe, touched the floor.</p> + +<p>"Blindfold him," said Dallisa languidly, "so that he cannot watch the +ascent of the sun or its descent or know what is to come."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>A dark softness muffled my eyes. After a little I heard her steps +retreating. My arms, wrenched overhead and numbed with the bite of the +cords, were beginning to hurt badly now. But it wasn't too bad. Surely +she did not mean that this should be all....</p> + +<p>Sternly I controlled my imagination, taking a tight rein on my thoughts. +There was only one way to meet this—hanging blind and racked in space, +my toes barely scrabbling at the floor—and that was to take each thing +as it came and not look ahead for an instant. First of all I tried to +get my feet under me, and discovered that by arching upwards to my +fullest height I could bear my weight on tiptoe and ease, a little, the +dislocating ache in my armpits by slackening the overhead rope.</p> + +<p>But after a little, a cramping pain began to flare through the arches of +my feet, and it became impossible to support my weight on tiptoe. I +jarred down with violent strain on my wrists and wrenched shoulders +again, and for a moment the shooting agony was so intense that I nearly +screamed. I thought I heard a soft breath near me.</p> + +<p>After a little it subsided to a sharp ache, then to a dull ache, and +then to the violent cramping pain again, and once more I struggled to +get my toes under me. I realized that by allowing my toes barely to +touch the floor they had doubled and tripled the pain by the tantalizing +hope of, if not momentary relief, at least the alteration of one pain +for another.</p> + +<p>I haven't the faintest idea, even now, how long I repeated that +agonizing cycle: struggle for a toehold on rough stone, scraping my bare +feet raw; arch upward with all my strength to release for a few moments +the strain on my wrenched shoulders; the momentary illusion of relief as +I found my balance and the pressure lightened on my wrists.</p> + +<p>Then the slow creeping, first of an ache, then of a pain, then of a +violent agony in the arches of feet and calves. And, delayed to the last +endurable moment, that final terrible anguish when the drop of my full +weight pulled shoulder and wrist and elbow joints with that +bone-shattering jerk.</p> + +<p>I started once to estimate how much time had passed, how many hours had +crawled by, then checked myself, for that was imminent madness. But once +the process had begun my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> brain would not abandon and I found myself, +with compulsive precision, counting off the seconds and the minutes in +each cycle: stretch upward, release the pressure on the arms; the +beginning of pain in calves and arches and toes; the creeping of pain up +ribs and loins and shoulders; the sudden jarring drop on the arms again.</p> + +<p>My throat was intolerably dry. Under other circumstances I might have +estimated the time by the growth of hunger and thirst, but the rough +treatment I had received made this impossible. There were other, +unmentionable, humiliating pains.</p> + +<p>After a time, to bolster my flagging courage, I found myself thinking of +all the ways it might have been worse. I had heard of a <i>shegrin</i> +exposed to the bite of poisonous—not fatal, but painfully +poisonous—insects, and to the worrying of the small gnawing rodents +which can be trained to bite and tear. Or I might have been branded....</p> + +<p>I banished the memory with the powerful exorcism; the man in Daillon +whose anticipation, alone, of a torture which never came, had broken his +mind. There was only one way to conquer this, and that was to act as if +the present moment was the only one, and never for a moment to forget +that the strongest of compacts bound them not to harm me, that the end +of this was fixed by sunset.</p> + +<p>Gradually, however, all such rational thoughts blurred in a semidelirium +of thirst and pain, narrowing to a red blaze of agony across my shoulder +blades. I eased up on my toes again.</p> + +<p>White-hot pain blazed through my feet. The rough stone on which my toes +sank had been covered with metal and I smelled scorching flesh, jerking +up my feet with a wordless snarl of rage and fury, hanging in agony by +my shoulders alone.</p> + +<p>And then I lost consciousness, at least for several moments, for when I +became aware again, through the nightmare of pain, my toes were resting +lightly and securely on cold stone. The smell of burned flesh remained, +and the painful stinging in my toes. Mingled with that smell was a drift +of perfume close by.</p> + +<p>Dallisa murmured, "I do not wish to break our bargain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> by damaging your +feet. It's only a little touch of fire to keep you from too much +security in resting them."</p> + +<p>I felt the taste of blood mingle in my mouth with the sour taste of +vomit. I felt delirious, lightheaded. After another eternity I wondered +if I had really heard Dallisa's lilting croon or whether it was a +nightmare born of feverish pain:</p> + +<p><i>Plead with me. A word, only a word and I will release you, strong man, +scarred man. Perhaps I shall demand only a little space in your arms. +Would not such doom be light upon you? Perhaps I shall set you free to +seek Rakhal if only to plague Kyral. A word, only a word from you. A +word, only a word from you....</i></p> + +<p>It died into an endlessly echoing whisper. Swaying, blinded, I wondered +why I endured. I drew a dry tongue over lips, salty and bloody, and +nightmarishly considered yielding, winning my way somehow around +Dallisa. Or knocking her suddenly senseless and escaping—I, who need +not be bound by Wolf's codes either. I fumbled with a stiff shape of +words.</p> + +<p>And a breath saved me, a soft, released breath of anticipation. It was +another trick. I swayed, limp and racked. I was not Race Cargill now. I +was a dead man hanging in chains, swinging, filthy vultures pecking at +my dangling feet. I was....</p> + +<p>The sound of boots rang on the stone and Kyral's voice, low and bitter, +demanded somewhere behind me, "What have you done with him?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer, but I heard her chains clash lightly and imagined +her gesture. Kyral muttered, "Women have no genius at any torture +except...." His voice faded out into great distances. Their words came +to me over a sort of windy ringing, like the howling of lost men, dying +in the snowfast passes of the mountains.</p> + +<p>"Speak up, you fool, he can't hear you now."</p> + +<p>"If you have let him faint, you are clumsy!"</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> talk of clumsiness!" Dallisa's voice, even thinned by the +nightmare ringing in my head, held concentrated scorn. "Perhaps I shall +release him, to find Rakhal when you failed! The Terrans have a price on +Rakhal's head, too. And at least this man will not confuse himself with +his prey!"</p> + +<p>"If you think I would let you bargain with a <i>Terranan</i>—"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> + +<p>Dallisa cried passionately, "You trade with the Terrans! How would you +stop me, then?"</p> + +<p>"I trade with them because I must. But for a matter involving the honor +of the Great House—"</p> + +<p>"The Great House whose steps you would never have climbed, except for +Rakhal!" Dallisa sounded as if she were chewing her words in little +pieces and spitting them at Kyral. "Oh, you were clever to take us both +as your consorts! You did not know it was Rakhal's doing, did you? Hate +the Terrans, then!" She spat an obscenity at him. "Enjoy your hate, +wallow in hating, and in the end all Shainsa will fall prey to the +Toymaker, like Miellyn."</p> + +<p>"If you speak that name again," said Kyral very low, "I will kill you."</p> + +<p>"Like Miellyn, Miellyn, Miellyn," Dallisa repeated deliberately. "You +fool, Rakhal knew nothing of Miellyn!"</p> + +<p>"He was seen—"</p> + +<p>"With <i>me</i>, you fool! With <i>me</i>! You cannot yet tell twin from twin? +Rakhal came to <i>me</i> to ask news of her!"</p> + +<p>Kyral cried out hoarsely, like a man in anguish, "Why didn't you tell +me?"</p> + +<p>"You don't really have to ask, do you, Kyral?"</p> + +<p>"You bitch!" said Kyral. "You filthy bitch!" I heard the sound of a +blow. The next moment Kyral ripped the blindfold from my eyes and I +blinked in the blaze of light. My arms were wholly numb now, twisted +above my head, but the jar of his touch sent fresh pain racing through +me. Kyral's face swam out of the blaze of hell. "If that is true, then +this is a damnable farce, Dallisa. You have lost our chance of learning +what he knows of Miellyn."</p> + +<p>"What <i>he</i> knows?" Dallisa lowered her hand from her face, where a +bruise was already darkening.</p> + +<p>"Miellyn has twice appeared when I was with him. Loose him, Dallisa, and +bargain with him. What we know of Rakhal for what he knows of Miellyn."</p> + +<p>"If you think I would let you bargain with <i>Terranan</i>," she mocked. +"Weakling, this quarrel is <i>mine</i>! You fool, the others in the caravan +will give me news, if you will not! <i>Where is Cuinn?</i>"</p> + +<p>From a million miles away Kyral laughed. "You've slipped the wrong hawk, +Dallisa. The catmen killed him." His skean<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> flicked loose. He climbed to +a perch near the rope at my wrists. "Bargain with me, Rascar!"</p> + +<p>I coughed, unable to speak, and Kyral insisted, "Will you bargain? End +this damned woman's farce which makes a mock of <i>shegri</i>?"</p> + +<p>The slant of sun told me there was light left. I found a shred of voice, +not knowing what I was going to say until I had said it, irrevocably. +"This is between Dallisa and me."</p> + +<p>Kyral glared at me in mounting rage. With four strides he was out of the +room, flinging back a harsh, furious "I hope you kill each other!" and +the door slammed.</p> + +<p>Dallisa's face swam red, and again as before, I knew the battle which +was joined between us would be fought to a dreadful end. She touched my +chest lightly, but the touch jolted excruciating pain through my +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Did you kill Cuinn?"</p> + +<p>I wondered, wearily, what this presaged.</p> + +<p>"Did you?" In a passion, she cried, "Answer! Did you kill him?" She +struck me hard, and where the touch had been pain, the blow was a blaze +of white agony. I fainted.</p> + +<p>"Answer!" She struck me again and the white blaze jolted me back to +consciousness. "Answer me! Answer!" Each cry bought a blow until I +gasped finally, "He signaled ... set catmen on us...."</p> + +<p>"No!" She stood staring at me and her white face was a death mask in +which the eyes lived. She screamed wildly and the huge <i>chak</i> came +running.</p> + +<p>"Cut him down! Cut him down! Cut him down!"</p> + +<p>A knife slashed the rope and I slumped, falling in a bone-breaking +huddle to the floor. My arms were still twisted over my head. The <i>chak</i> +cut the ropes apart, pulled my arms roughly back into place, and I +gagged with the pain as the blood began flowing painfully through the +chafed and swollen hands.</p> + +<p>And then I lost consciousness. More or less permanently, this time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER NINE</h2> + + +<p>When I came to again I was lying with my head in Dallisa's lap, and the +reddish color of sunset was in the room. Her thighs were soft under my +head, and for an instant I wondered if, in delirium, I had conceded to +her. I muttered, "Sun ... not down...."</p> + +<p>She bent her face to mine, whispering, "Hush. Hush."</p> + +<p>It was heaven, and I drifted off again. After a moment I felt a cup +against my lips.</p> + +<p>"Can you swallow this?"</p> + +<p>I could and did. I couldn't taste it yet, but it was cold and wet and +felt heavenly trickling down my throat. She bent and looked into my +eyes, and I felt as if I were falling into those reddish and stormy +depths. She touched my scarred mouth with a light finger. Suddenly my +head cleared and I sat upright.</p> + +<p>"Is this a trick to force me into calling my bet?"</p> + +<p>She recoiled as if I had struck her, then the trace of a smile flitted +around her red mouth. Yes, between us it was battle. "You are right to +be suspicious, I suppose. But if I tell you what I know of Rakhal, will +you trust me then?"</p> + +<p>I looked straight at her and said, "No."</p> + +<p>Surprisingly, she threw back her head and laughed. I flexed my freed +wrists cautiously. The skin was torn away and chafed, and my arms ached +to the bone. When I moved harsh lances of pain drove through my chest.</p> + +<p>"Well, until sunset I have no right to ask you to trust me," said +Dallisa when she had done laughing. "And since you are bound by my +command until the last ray has fallen, I command that you lay your head +upon my knees."</p> + +<p>I blazed, "You are making a game of me!"</p> + +<p>"Is that my privilege? Do you refuse?"</p> + +<p>"Refuse?" It was not yet sunset. This might be a torture more complex +than any which had yet greeted me. From the scarlet glint in her eyes I +felt she was playing with me, as the cat-things of the forest play with +their helpless victims. My mouth twitched in a grimace of humiliation as +I lowered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> myself obediently until my head rested on her fur-clad knees.</p> + +<p>She murmured, smiling, "Is this so unbearable, then?"</p> + +<p>I said nothing. Never, never for an instant could I forget that—all +human, all woman as she seemed—Dallisa's race was worn and old when the +Terran Empire had not left their home star. The mind of Wolf, which has +mingled with the nonhuman since before the beginnings of recorded time, +is unfathomable to an outsider. I was better equipped than most Earthmen +to keep pace with its surface acts, but I could never pretend to +understand its deeper motivations.</p> + +<p>It works on complex and irrational logic. Mischief is an integral part +of it. Even the deadly blood-feud with Rakhal had begun with an +overelaborate practical joke—which had lost the Service, incidentally, +several thousand credits worth of spaceship.</p> + +<p>And so I could not trust Dallisa for an instant. Yet it was wonderful to +lie here with my head resting against the perfumed softness of her body.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly her arms were gripping me, frantic and hungry; the subdued +thing in her voice, her eyes, flamed out hot and wild. She was pressing +the whole length of her body to mine, breasts and thighs and long legs, +and her voice was hoarse.</p> + +<p>"Is this torture too?"</p> + +<p>Beneath the fur robe she was soft and white, and the subtle scent of her +hair seemed a deeper entrapment than any. Frail as she seemed, her arms +had the strength of steel, and pain blazed down my wrenched shoulders, +seared through the twisted wrists. Then I forgot the pain.</p> + +<p>Over her shoulder the last dropping redness of the sun vanished and +plunged the room into orchid twilight.</p> + +<p>I caught her wrists in my hands, prizing them backward, twisting them +upward over her head. I said thickly, "The sun's down." And then I +stopped her wild mouth with mine.</p> + +<p>And I knew that the battle between us had reached climax and victory +simultaneously, and any question about who had won it was purely +academic.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>During the night sometime, while her dark head lay motionless on my +shoulder, I found myself staring into the darkness, wakeful. The +throbbing of my bruises had little to do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> with my sleeplessness; I was +remembering other chained girls from the old days in the Dry-towns, and +the honey and poison of them distilled into Dallisa's kisses. Her head +was very light on my shoulders, and she felt curiously insubstantial, +like a woman of feathers.</p> + +<p>One of the tiny moons was visible through the slitted windows. I thought +of my rooms in the Terran Trade City, clean and bright and warm, and all +the nights when I had paced the floor, hating, filled to the teeth with +bitterness, longing for the windswept stars of the Dry-towns, the salt +smell of the winds and the musical clashing of the walk of the chained +women.</p> + +<p>With a sting of guilt, I realized that I had half forgotten Juli and my +pledge to her and her misfortune which had freed me again, for this.</p> + +<p>Yet I had won, and what they knew had narrowed my planet-wide search to +a pinpoint. Rakhal was in Charin.</p> + +<p>I wasn't altogether surprised. Charin is the only city on Wolf, except +the Kharsa, where the Terran Empire has put down deep roots into the +planet, built a Trade City, a smaller spaceport. Like the Kharsa, it +lies within the circle of Terran law—and a million miles outside it.</p> + +<p>A nonhuman town, inhabited largely by <i>chaks</i>, it is the core and center +of the resistance movement, a noisy town in a perpetual ferment. It was +the logical place for a renegade. I settled myself so that the ache in +my racked shoulders was less violent, and muttered, "Why Charin?"</p> + +<p>Slight as the movement was, it roused Dallisa. She rolled over and +propped herself on her elbows, quoting drowsily, "The prey walks safest +at the hunter's door."</p> + +<p>I stared at the square of violet moonlight, trying to fit together all +the pieces of the puzzle, and asked half aloud, "What prey and what +hunters?"</p> + +<p>Dallisa didn't answer. I hadn't expected her to answer. I asked the real +question in my mind: "Why does Kyral hate Rakhal Sensar, when he doesn't +even know him by sight?"</p> + +<p>"There are reasons," she said somberly. "One of them is Miellyn, my twin +sister. Kyral climbed the steps of the Great House by claiming us both +as his consorts. He is our father's son by another wife."</p> + +<p>That explained much. Brother-and-sister marriages, not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> uncommon in the +Dry-towns, are based on expediency and suspicion, and are frequently, +though not always loveless. It explained Dallisa's taunts, and it partly +explained, only partly, why I found her in my arms. It did not explain +Rakhal's part in this mysterious intrigue, nor why Kyral had taken me +for Rakhal, (but only after he remembered seeing me in Terran clothing).</p> + +<p>I wondered why it had never occurred to me before that I might be +mistaken for Rakhal. There was no close resemblance between us, but a +casual description would apply equally well to me or to Rakhal. My +height is unusual for a Terran—within an inch of Rakhal's own—and we +had roughly the same build, the same coloring. I had copied his walk, +imitated his mannerisms, since we were boys together.</p> + +<p>And, blurring minor facial characteristics, there were the scars of the +<i>kifirgh</i> on my mouth, cheeks, and shoulders. Anyone who did not know us +by sight, anyone who had known us by reputation from the days when we +had worked together in the Dry-towns, might easily take one of us for +the other. Even Juli had blurted, "You're so much like—" before +thinking better of it.</p> + +<p>Other odd bits of the puzzle floated in my mind, stubbornly refusing to +take on recognizable patterns, the disappearance of a toy-seller; Juli's +hysterical babbling; the way the girl—Miellyn?—had vanished into a +shrine of Nebran; and the taunts of Dallisa and the old man about a +mysterious "Toymaker." And something, some random joggling of a memory, +in that eerie trading in the city of the Silent Ones. I knew all these +things fitted together somehow, but I had no real hope that Dallisa +could complete their pattern for me.</p> + +<p>She said, with a vehemence that startled me, "Miellyn is only the +excuse! Kyral hates Rakhal because Rakhal will compromise and because +he'll fight!"</p> + +<p>She rolled over and pressed herself against me in the darkness. Her +voice trembled. "Race, our world is dying. We can't stand against Terra. +And there are other things, worse things."</p> + +<p>I sat up, surprised to find myself defending Terra to this girl. After +all these years I was back in my own world. And yet I heard myself say +quietly, "The Terrans aren't exploit<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>ing Wolf. We haven't abolished the +rule of Shainsa. We've changed nothing."</p> + +<p>It was true. Terra held Wolf by compact, not conquest. They paid, and +paid generously, for the lease of the lands where their Trade Cities +would rise, and stepped beyond them only when invited to do so.</p> + +<p>"We let any city or state that wants to keep its independence govern +itself until it collapses, Dallisa. And they do collapse after a +generation or so. Very few primitive planets can hold out against us. +The people themselves get tired of living under feudal or theocratic +systems, and they beg to be taken into the Empire. That's all."</p> + +<p>"But that's just it," Dallisa argued. "You give the people all those +things we used to give them, and you do it better. Just by being here, +you are killing the Dry-towns. They're turning to you and leaving us, +and you let them do it."</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "We've kept the Terran Peace for centuries. What do you +expect? Should we give you arms, planes, bombs, weapons to hold your +slaves down?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she flared at me. "The Dry-towns have ruled Wolf +since—since—you, you can't even imagine how long! And we made compact +with you to trade here—"</p> + +<p>"And we have rewarded you by leaving you untouched," I said quietly. +"But we have not forbidden the Dry-towns to come into the Empire and +work with Terra."</p> + +<p>She said bitterly, "Men like Kyral will die first," and pressed her face +helplessly against me. "And I will die with them. Miellyn broke away, +but I cannot! Courage is what I lack. Our world is rotten, Race, rotten +all through, and I'm as rotten as the core of it. I could have killed +you today, and I'm here in your arms. Our world is rotten, but I've no +confidence that the new world will be better!"</p> + +<p>I put my hand under her chin, and looked down gravely into her face, +only a pale oval in the darkness. There was nothing I could say; she had +said it all, and truthfully. I had hated and yearned and starved for +this, and when I found it, it turned salty and bloody on my lips, like +Dallisa's despairing kisses. She ran her fingers over the scars on my +face, then gripped her small thin hands around my wrists so fiercely +that I grunted protest.</p> + +<p>"You will not forget me," she said in her strangely lilting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> voice. "You +will not forget me, although you were victorious." She twisted and lay +looking up at me, her eyes glowing faintly luminous in darkness. I knew +that she could see me as clearly as if it were day. "I think it was my +victory, not yours, Race Cargill."</p> + +<p>Gently, on an impulse I could not explain, I picked up one delicate +wrist, then the other, unclasping the heavy jeweled bracelets. She let +out a stifled cry of dismay. And then I tossed the chains into a corner +before I drew her savagely into my arms again and forced her head back +under my mouth.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>I said good-bye to her alone, in the reddish, windswept space before the +Great House. She pressed her head against my shoulder and whispered, +"Race, take me with you!"</p> + +<p>For answer I only picked up her narrow wrists and turned them over on my +palm. The jeweled bracelets were clasped again around the thinly boned +joints, and on some self-punishing impulse she had shortened the chains +so that she could not even put her arms around me. I lifted the punished +wrists to my mouth and kissed them gently.</p> + +<p>"You don't want to leave, Dallisa."</p> + +<p>I was desperately sorry for her. She would go down with her dying world, +proud and cold and with no place in the new one. She kissed me and I +tasted blood, her thin fettered body straining wildly against me, shaken +with tearing, convulsive sobs. Then she turned and fled back into the +shadow of the great dark house.</p> + +<p>I never saw her again.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER TEN</h2> + + +<p>A few days later I found myself nearing the end of the trail.</p> + +<p>It was twilight in Charin, hot and reeking with the gypsy glare of fires +which burned, smoking, at the far end of the Street of the Six +Shepherds. I crouched in the shadow of a wall, waiting.</p> + +<p>My skin itched from the dirty shirtcloak I hadn't changed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> in days. +Shabbiness is wise in nonhuman parts, and Dry-towners think too much of +water to waste much of it in superfluous washing anyhow. I scratched +unobtrusively and glanced cautiously down the street.</p> + +<p>It seemed empty, except for a few sodden derelicts sprawled in +doorways—the Street of the Six Shepherds is a filthy slum—but I made +sure my skean was loose. Charin is not a particularly safe town, even +for Dry-towners, and especially not for Earthmen, at any time.</p> + +<p>Even with what Dallisa had told me, the search had been difficult. +Charin is not Shainsa. In Charin, where human and nonhuman live closer +together than anywhere else on the planet, information about such men as +Rakhal can be bought, but the policy is to let the buyer beware. That's +fair enough, because the life of the seller has a way of not being worth +much afterward, either.</p> + +<p>A dirty, dust-laden wind was blowing up along the street, heavy with +strange smells. The pungent reek of incense from a street-shrine was in +the smells. The heavy, acrid odor that made my skin crawl. In the hills +behind Charin, the Ghost Wind was rising.</p> + +<p>Borne on this wind, the Ya-men would sweep down from the mountains, and +everything human or nearly human would scatter in their path. They would +range through the quarter all night, and in the morning they would melt +away, until the Ghost Wind blew again. At any other time, I would +already have taken cover. I fancied that I could hear, borne on the +wind, the faraway yelping, and envision the plumed, taloned figures +which would come leaping down the street.</p> + +<p>In that moment, the quiet of the street split asunder.</p> + +<p>From somewhere a girl's voice screamed in shrill pain or panic. Then I +saw her, dodging between two of the chinked pebble-houses. She was a +child, thin and barefoot, a long tangle of black hair flying loose as +she darted and twisted to elude the lumbering fellow at her heels. His +outstretched paw jerked cruelly at her slim wrist.</p> + +<p>The little girl screamed and wrenched herself free and threw herself +straight on me, wrapping herself around my neck with the violence of a +storm wind. Her hair got in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> my mouth and her small hands gripped at my +back like a cat's flexed claws.</p> + +<p>"Oh, help me," she gasped between sobs. "Don't let him get me, don't." +And even in that broken plea I took it in that the little ragamuffin did +not speak the jargon of that slum, but the pure speech of Shainsa.</p> + +<p>What I did then was as automatic as if it had been Juli. I pulled the +kid loose, shoved her behind me, and scowled at the brute who lurched +toward us.</p> + +<p>"Make yourself scarce," I advised. "We don't chase little girls where I +come from. Haul off, now."</p> + +<p>The man reeled. I smelled the rankness of his rags as he thrust one +grimy paw at the girl. I never was the hero type, but I'd started +something which I had to carry through. I thrust myself between them and +put my hand on the skean again.</p> + +<p>"You—you Dry-towner." The man set up a tipsy howl, and I sucked in my +breath. Now I was in for it. Unless I got out of there damned fast, I'd +lose what I'd come all the way to Charin to find.</p> + +<p>I felt like handing the girl over. For all I knew, the bully could be +her father and she was properly in line for a spanking. This wasn't any +of my business. My business lay at the end of the street, where Rakhal +was waiting at the fires. He wouldn't be there long. Already the smell +of the Ghost Wind was heavy and harsh, and little flurries of sand went +racing along the street, lifting the flaps of the doorways.</p> + +<p>But I did nothing so sensible. The big lunk made a grab at the girl, and +I whipped out my skean and pantomimed.</p> + +<p>"Get going!"</p> + +<p>"Dry-towner!" He spat out the word like filth, his pig-eyes narrowing to +slits. "Son of the Ape! <i>Earthman!</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>Terranan!</i>" Someone took up the howl. There was a stir, a rustle, all +along the street that had seemed empty, and from nowhere, it seemed, the +space in front of me was crowded with shadowy forms, human and +otherwise.</p> + +<p>"Earthman!"</p> + +<p>I felt the muscles across my belly knotting into a band of ice. I didn't +believe I'd given myself away as an Earthman. The bully was using the +time-dishonored tactic of stir<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>ring up a riot in a hurry, but just the +same I looked quickly round, hunting a path of escape.</p> + +<p>"Put your skean in his guts, Spilkar! Grab him!"</p> + +<p>"Hai-ai! Earthman! <i>Hai-ai!</i>"</p> + +<p>It was the last cry that made me panic. Through the sultry glare at the +end of the street, I could see the plumed, taloned figures of the +Ya-men, gliding through the banners of smoke. The crowd melted open.</p> + +<p>I didn't stop to reflect on the fact—suddenly very obvious—that Rakhal +couldn't have been at the fires at all, and that my informant had led me +into an open trap, a nest of Ya-men already inside Charin. The crowd +edged back and muttered, and suddenly I made my choice. I whirled, +snatched up the girl in my arms and ran straight toward the advancing +figures of the Ya-men.</p> + +<p>Nobody followed me. I even heard a choked shout that sounded like a +warning. I heard the yelping shrieks of the Ya-men grow to a wild howl, +and at the last minute, when their stiff rustling plumes loomed only a +few yards away, I dived sidewise into an alley, stumbled on some rubbish +and spilled the girl down.</p> + +<p>"Run, kid!"</p> + +<p>She shook herself like a puppy climbing out of water. Her small fingers +closed like a steel trap on my wrist. "This way," she urged in a hasty +whisper, and I found myself plunging out the far end of the alley and +into the shelter of a street-shrine. The sour stink of incense smarted +in my nostrils, and I could hear the yelping of the Ya-men as they +leaped and rustled down the alley, their cold and poisonous eyes +searching out the recess where I crouched with the girl.</p> + +<p>"Here," she panted, "stand close to me on the stone—" I drew back, +startled.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't stop to argue," she whimpered. "Come <i>here</i>!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Hai-ai!</i> Earthman! There he is!"</p> + +<p>The girl's arms flung round me again. I felt her slight, hard body +pressing on mine and she literally hauled me toward the pattern of +stones at the center of the shrine. I wouldn't have been human if I +hadn't caught her closer yet.</p> + +<p>The world reeled. The street disappeared in a cone of spinning lights, +stars danced crazily, and I plunged down through a widening gulf of +empty space, locked in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> girl's arms. I fell, spun, plunged head over +heels through tilting lights and shadows that flung us through +eternities of freefall. The yelping of the Ya-men whirled away in +unimaginable distances, and for a second I felt the unmerciful blackout +of a power dive, with blood breaking from my nostrils and filling my +mouth.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER ELEVEN</h2> + + +<p>Lights flared in my eyes.</p> + +<p>I was standing solidly on my feet in the street-shrine, but the street +was gone. Coils of incense still smudged the air. The God squatted +toadlike in his recess. The girl was hanging limp, locked in my clenched +arms. As the floor straightened under my feet I staggered, thrown off +balance by the sudden return of the girl's weight, and grabbed blindly +for support.</p> + +<p>"Give her to me," said a voice, and the girl's sagging body was lifted +from my arms. A strong hand grasped my elbow. I found a chair beneath my +knees and sank gratefully into it.</p> + +<p>"The transmission isn't smooth yet between such distant terminals," the +voice remarked. "I see Miellyn has fainted again. A weakling, the girl, +but useful."</p> + +<p>I spat blood, trying to get the room in focus. For I was inside a room, +a room of some translucent substance, windowless, a skylight high above +me, through which pink daylight streamed. Daylight—and it had been +midnight in Charin! I'd come halfway around the planet in a few seconds!</p> + +<p>From somewhere I heard the sound of hammering, tiny, bell-like +hammering, the chiming of a fairy anvil. I looked up and saw a man—a +man?—watching me.</p> + +<p>On Wolf you see all kinds of human, half-human and nonhuman life, and I +consider myself something of an expert on all three. But I had never +seen anyone, or anything, who so closely resembled the human and so +obviously wasn't. He, or it, was tall and lean, man-shaped but oddly +muscled, a vague suggestion of something less than human in the lean +hunch of his posture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>Manlike, he wore green tight-fitting trunks and a shirt of green fur +that revealed bulging biceps where they shouldn't be, and angular planes +where there should have been swelling muscles. The shoulders were high, +the neck unpleasantly sinuous, and the face, a little narrower than +human, was handsomely arrogant, with a kind of wary alert mischief that +was the least human thing about him.</p> + +<p>He bent, tilted the girl's inert body on to a divan of some sort, and +turned his back on her, lifting his hand in an impatient, and +unpleasantly reminiscent, gesture.</p> + +<p>The tinkling of the little hammers stopped as if a switch had been +disconnected.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the nonhuman, "we can talk."</p> + +<p>Like the waif, he spoke Shainsan, and spoke it with a better accent than +any nonhuman I had <ins class="correction" title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'even'">ever</ins> known—so well that I looked again to be +certain. I wasn't too dazed to answer in the same tongue, but I couldn't +keep back a spate of questions:</p> + +<p>"What happened? Who are you? What is this place?"</p> + +<p>The nonhuman waited, crossing his hands—quite passable hands, if you +didn't look too closely at what should have been nails—and bent forward +in a sketchy gesture.</p> + +<p>"Do not blame Miellyn. She acted under orders. It was imperative you be +brought here tonight, and we had reason to believe you might ignore an +ordinary summons. You were clever at evading our surveillance, for a +time. But there would not be two Dry-towners in Charin tonight who would +dare the Ghost Wind. Your reputation does you justice, Rakhal Sensar."</p> + +<p><i>Rakhal Sensar!</i> Once again Rakhal!</p> + +<p>Shaken, I pulled a rag from my pocket and wiped blood from my mouth. I'd +figured out, in Shainsa, why the mistake was logical. And here in Charin +I'd been hanging around in Rakhal's old haunts, covering his old trails. +Once again, mistaken identity was natural.</p> + +<p>Natural or not, I wasn't going to deny it. If these were Rakhal's +enemies, my real identity should be kept as an ace in reserve which +might—just might—get me out alive again. If they were his friends ... +well, I could only hope that no one who knew him well by sight would +walk in on me.</p> + +<p>"We knew," the nonhuman continued, "that if you re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>mained where you +were, the <i>Terranan</i> Cargill would have made his arrest. We know about +your quarrel with Cargill, among other things, but we did not consider +it necessary that you should fall into his hands at present."</p> + +<p>I was puzzled. "I still don't understand. Exactly where am I?"</p> + +<p>"This is the mastershrine of Nebran."</p> + +<p><i>Nebran!</i></p> + +<p>The stray pieces of the puzzle suddenly jolted into place. Kyral had +warned me, not knowing he was doing it. I hastily imitated the gesture +Kyral had made, gabbling a few words of an archaic charm.</p> + +<p>Like every Earthman who's lived on Wolf more than a tourist season, I'd +seen faces go blank and impassive at mention of the Toad God. Rumor made +his spies omnipresent, his priests omniscient, his anger all-powerful. I +had believed about a tenth of what I had heard, or less.</p> + +<p>The Terran Empire has little to say to planetary religions, and Nebran's +cult is a remarkably obscure one, despite the street-shrines on every +corner. Now I was in his mastershrine, and the device which had brought +me here was beyond doubt a working model of a matter transmitter.</p> + +<p>A matter transmitter, a working model—the words triggered memory. +Rakhal was after it.</p> + +<p>"And who," I asked slowly, "are you, Lord?"</p> + +<p>The green-clad creature hunched thin shoulders again in a ceremonious +gesture. "I am called Evarin. Humble servant of Nebran and yourself," he +added, but there was no humility in his manner. "I am called the +Toymaker."</p> + +<p><i>Evarin.</i> That was another name given weight by rumor. A breath of +gossip in a thieves market. A scrawled word on smudged paper. A blank +folder in Terran Intelligence. Another puzzle-piece snapped into +place—<i>Toymaker</i>!</p> + +<p>The girl on the divan sat up suddenly passing slim hands over her +disheveled hair. "Did I faint, Evarin? I had to fight to get him into +the stone, and the patterns were not set straight in that terminal. You +must send one of the Little Ones to set them to rights. Toymaker, you +are not listening to me."</p> + +<p>"Stop chattering, Miellyn," said Evarin indifferently.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> "You brought him +here, and that is all that matters. You aren't hurt?"</p> + +<p>Miellyn pouted and looked ruefully at her bare bruised feet, patted the +wrinkles in her ragged frock with fastidious fingers. "My poor feet," +she mourned, "they are black and blue with the cobbles and my hair is +filled with sand and tangles! Toymaker, what way was this to send me to +entice a man? Any man would have come quickly, quickly, if he had seen +me looking lovely, but you—you send me in rags!"</p> + +<p>She stamped a small bare foot. She was not merely as young as she had +looked in the street. Though immature and underdeveloped by Terran +standards, she had a fair figure for a Dry-town woman. Her rags fell now +in graceful folds. Her hair was spun black glass, and I—I saw <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'what what'">what</ins> the +rags and the confusion in the filthy street had kept me from seeing +before.</p> + +<p>It was the girl of the spaceport cafe, the girl who had appeared and +vanished in the eerie streets of Canarsa.</p> + +<p>Evarin was regarding her with what, in a human, might have been rueful +impatience. He said, "You know you enjoyed yourself, as always, Miellyn. +Run along and make yourself beautiful again, little nuisance."</p> + +<p>The girl danced out of the room, and I was just as glad to see her go. +The Toymaker motioned to me.</p> + +<p>"This way," he directed, and led me through a different door. The +offstage hammering I had heard, tiny bell tones like a fairy xylophone, +began again as the door opened, and we passed into a workroom which made +me remember nursery tales from a half-forgotten childhood on Terra. For +the workers were tiny, gnarled <i>trolls</i>!</p> + +<p>They were <i>chaks</i>. <i>Chaks</i> from the polar mountains, dwarfed and furred +and half-human, with witchlike faces and great golden eyes, and I had +the curious feeling that if I looked hard enough I would see the little +toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa. I didn't look. I figured I +was in enough trouble already.</p> + +<p>Tiny hammers pattered on miniature anvils in a tinkling, jingling chorus +of musical clinks and taps. Golden eyes focused like lenses over winking +jewels and gimcracks. Busy elves. Makers of toys!</p> + +<p>Evarin jerked his shoulders with an imperative gesture. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> followed him +through a fairy workroom, but could not refrain from casting a lingering +look at the worktables. A withered leprechaun set eyes into the head of +a minikin hound. Furred fingers worked precious metals into invisible +filigree for the collarpiece of a dancing doll. Metallic feathers were +thrust with clockwork precision into the wings of a skeleton bird no +longer than my fingernail. The nose of the hound wabbled and sniffed, +the bird's wings quivered, the eyes of the little dancer followed my +footsteps.</p> + +<p>Toys?</p> + +<p>"This way," Evarin rapped, and a door slid shut behind us. The clinks +and taps grew faint, fainter, but never ceased.</p> + +<p>My face must have betrayed more than conventional impassivity, for +Evarin smiled. "Now you know, Rakhal, why I am called Toymaker. Is it +not strange—the masterpriest of Nebran, a maker of Toys, and the shrine +of the Toad God a workshop for children's playthings?"</p> + +<p>Evarin paused suggestively. They were obviously not children's +playthings and this was my cue to say so, but I avoided the trap. Evarin +opened a sliding panel and took out a doll.</p> + +<p>She was perhaps the length of my longest finger, molded to the precise +proportions of a woman, and costumed after the bizarre fashion of the +Ardcarran dancing girls. Evarin touched no button or key that I could +see, but when he set the figure on its feet, it executed a whirling, +armtossing dance in a fast, tricky tempo.</p> + +<p>"I am, in a sense, benevolent," Evarin murmured. He snapped his fingers +and the doll sank to her knees and poised there, silent. "Moreover, I +have the means and, let us say, the ability to indulge my small +fantasies.</p> + +<p>"The little daughter of the President of the Federation of Trade Cities +on Samarra was sent such a doll recently. What a pity that Paolo +Arimengo was so suddenly impeached and banished!" The Toymaker clucked +his teeth commiseratingly. "Perhaps this small companion will compensate +the little Carmela for her adjustment to her new ... position."</p> + +<p>He replaced the dancer and pulled down something like a whirligig. "This +might interest you," he mused, and set it spinning. I stared at the +pattern of lights that flowed and disappeared, melting in and out of +visible shadows. Suddenly I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> realized what the thing was doing. I +wrested my eyes away with an effort. Had there been a lapse of seconds +or minutes? Had Evarin spoken?</p> + +<p>Evarin arrested the compelling motion with one finger. "Several of these +pretty playthings are available to the children of important men," he +said absently. "An import of value for our exploited and impoverished +world. Unfortunately they are, perhaps, a little ... ah, obvious. The +incidence of nervous breakdowns is, ah, interfering with their sale. The +children, of course, are unaffected, and love them." Evarin set the +hypnotic wheel moving again, glanced sidewise at me, then set it +carefully back.</p> + +<p>"Now"—Evarin's voice, hard with the silkiness of a cat's snarl, clawed +the silence—"we'll talk business."</p> + +<p>I turned, composing my face. Evarin had something concealed in one hand, +but I didn't think it was a weapon. And if I'd known, I'd have had to +ignore it anyway.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you wonder how we recognized and found you?" A panel cleared in +the wall and became translucent. Confused flickers moved, dropped into +focus and I realized that the panel was an ordinary television screen +and I was looking into the well-known interior of the Cafe of Three +Rainbows in the Trade City of Charin.</p> + +<p>By this time I was running low on curiosity and didn't wonder till much, +much later how televised pictures were transmitted around the curve of a +planet. Evarin sharpened the focus down on the long Earth-type bar where +a tall man in Terran clothes was talking to a pale-haired girl. Evarin +said, "By now, Race Cargill has decided, no doubt, that you fell into +his trap and into the hands of the Ya-men. He is off-guard now."</p> + +<p>And suddenly the whole thing seemed so unbearably, illogically funny +that my shoulders shook with the effort to keep back dangerous laughter. +Since I'd landed in Charin, I'd taken great pains to avoid the Trade +City, or anyone who might have associated me with it. And Rakhal, +somehow aware of this, had conveniently filled up the gap. By posing as +me.</p> + +<p>It wasn't nearly as difficult as it sounded. I had found that out in +Shainsa. Charin is a long, long way from the major Trade City near the +Kharsa. I hadn't a single intimate friend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> there, or within hundreds of +miles, to see through the imposture. At most, there were half a dozen of +the staff that I'd once met, or had a drink with, eight or ten years +ago.</p> + +<p>Rakhal could speak perfect Standard when he chose; if he lapsed into +Dry-town idiom, that too was in my known character. I had no doubt he +was making a great success of it all, probably doing much better with my +identity than I could ever have done with his.</p> + +<p>Evarin rasped, "Cargill meant to leave the planet. What stopped him? You +could be of use to us, Rakhal. But not with this blood-feud unsettled."</p> + +<p>That needed no elucidation. No Wolfan in his right mind will bargain +with a Dry-towner carrying an unresolved blood-feud. By law and custom, +declared blood-feud takes precedence over any other business, public or +private, and is sufficient excuse for broken promises, neglected duties, +theft, even murder.</p> + +<p>"We want it settled once and for all." Evarin's voice was low and +unhurried. "And we aren't above weighting the scales. This Cargill can, +and has, posed as a Dry-towner, undetected. We don't like Earthmen who +can do that. In settling your feud, you will be aiding us, and removing +a danger. We would be ... grateful."</p> + +<p>He opened his closed hand, displaying something small, curled, inert.</p> + +<p>"Every living thing emits a characteristic pattern of electrical nerve +impulses. We have ways of recording those impulses, and we have had you +and Cargill under observation for a long time. We've had plenty of +opportunity to key this Toy to Cargill's pattern."</p> + +<p>On his palm the curled thing stirred, spread wings. A fledgling bird lay +there, small soft body throbbing slightly. Half-hidden in a ruff of +metallic feathers I glimpsed a grimly elongated beak. The pinions were +feathered with delicate down less than a quarter of an inch long. They +beat with delicate insistence against the Toymaker's prisoning fingers.</p> + +<p>"This is not dangerous to you. Press here"—he showed me—"and if Race +Cargill is within a certain distance—and it is up to you to be <i>within</i> +that distance—it will find him, and kill him. Unerringly, inescapably, +untraceably. We will not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> tell you the critical distance. And we will +give you three days."</p> + +<p>He checked my startled exclamation with a gesture. "Of course this is a +test. Within the hour Cargill will receive a warning. We want no +incompetents who must be helped too much! Nor do we want cowards! If you +fail, or release the bird at a distance too great, or evade the +test"—the green inhuman malice in his eyes made me sweat—"we have made +another bird."</p> + +<p>By now my brain was swimming, but I thought I understood the complex +inhuman logic involved. "The other bird is keyed to me?"</p> + +<p>With slow contempt Evarin shook his head. "You? You are used to danger +and fond of a gamble. Nothing so simple! We have given you three days. +If, within that time, the bird you carry has not killed, the other bird +will fly. And it will kill. Rakhal, you have a wife."</p> + +<p>Yes, Rakhal had a wife. They could threaten Rakhal's wife. And his wife +was my sister Juli.</p> + +<p>Everything after that was anticlimax. Of course I had to drink with +Evarin, the elaborate formal ritual without which no bargain on Wolf is +concluded. He entertained me with gory and technical descriptions of the +way in which the birds, and other of his hellish Toys, did their +killing, and worse tasks.</p> + +<p>Miellyn danced into the room and upset the exquisite solemnity of the +wine-ritual by perching on my knee, stealing a sip from my cup, and +pouting prettily when I paid her less attention than she thought she +merited. I didn't dare pay much attention, even when she whispered, with +the deliberate and thorough wantonness of a Dry-town woman of high-caste +who has flung aside her fetters, something about a rendezvous at the +Three Rainbows.</p> + +<p>But eventually it was over and I stepped through a door that twisted +with a giddy blankness, and found myself outside a bare windowless wall +in Charin again, the night sky starred and cold. The acrid smell of the +Ghost Wind was thinning in the streets, but I had to crouch in a cranny +of the wall when a final rustling horde of Ya-men, the last of their +receding tide, rustled down the street. I found my way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> to my lodging in +a filthy <i>chak</i> hostel, and threw myself down on the verminous bed.</p> + +<p>Believe it or not, I slept.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER TWELVE</h2> + + +<p>An hour before dawn there was a noise in my room. I roused, my hand on +my skean. Someone or something was fumbling under the mattress where I +had thrust Evarin's bird. I struck out, encountered something warm and +breathing, and grappled with it in the darkness. A foul-smelling +something gripped over my mouth. I tore it away and struck hard with the +skean. There was a high shrilling. The gripping filth loosened and fell +away and something died on the floor.</p> + +<p>I struck a light, retching in revulsion. It hadn't been human. There +wouldn't have been that much blood from a human. Not that color, either.</p> + +<p>The <i>chak</i> who ran the place came and gibbered at me. <i>Chaks</i> have a +horror of blood and this one gave me to understand that my lease was up +then and there, no arguments, no refunds. He wouldn't even let me go +into his stone outbuilding to wash the foul stuff from my shirtcloak. I +gave up and fished under the mattress for Evarin's Toy.</p> + +<p>The <i>chak</i> got a glimpse of the embroideries on the silk in which it was +wrapped, and stood back, his loose furry lips hanging open, while I +gathered my few belongings together and strode out of the room. He would +not touch the coins I offered; I laid them on a chest and he let them +lie there, and as I went into the reddening morning they came flying +after me into the street.</p> + +<p>I pulled the silk from the Toy and tried to make some sense from my +predicament. The little thing lay innocent and silent in my palm. It +wouldn't tell me whether it had been keyed to me, the real Cargill, some +time in the past, or to Rakhal, using my name and reputation in the +Terran Colony here at Charin.</p> + +<p>If I pressed the stud it might play out this comedy of errors by hunting +down Rakhal, and all my troubles would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> be over. For a while, at least, +until Evarin found out what had happened. I didn't deceive myself that I +could carry the impersonation through another meeting.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, if I pressed the stud, the bird might turn on me. And +then all my troubles would be over for good.</p> + +<p>If I delayed past Evarin's deadline, and did nothing, the other bird in +his keeping would hunt down Juli and give her a swift and not too +painless death.</p> + +<p>I spent most of the day in a <i>chak</i> dive, juggling plans. Toys, innocent +and sinister. Spies, messengers. Toys which killed horribly. Toys which +could be controlled, perhaps, by the pliant mind of a child, and every +child hates its parents now and again!</p> + +<p>Even in the Terran colony, who was safe? In Mack's very home, one of the +Magnusson youngsters had a shiny thing which might, or might not, be one +of Evarin's hellish Toys. Or was I beginning to think like a +superstitious Dry-towner?</p> + +<p>Damn it, Evarin couldn't be infallible; he hadn't even recognized me as +Race Cargill! Or—suddenly the sweat broke out, again, on my +forehead—<i>or had he</i>? Had the whole thing been one of those sinister, +deadly and incomprehensible nonhuman jokes?</p> + +<p>I kept coming to the same conclusion. Juli was in danger, but she was +half a world away. Rakhal was here in Charin. There was a child +involved—Juli's child. The first step was to get inside the Terran +colony and see how the land lay.</p> + +<p>Charin is a city shaped like a crescent moon, encircling the small Trade +City: a miniature spaceport, a miniature skyscraper HQ, the clustered +dwellings of the Terrans who worked there, and those who lived with them +and supplied them with necessities, services and luxuries.</p> + +<p>Entry from one to the other is through a guarded gateway, since this is +hostile territory, and Charin lies far beyond the impress of ordinary +Terran law. But the gate stood wide-open, and the guards looked lax and +bored. They had shockers, but they didn't look as if they'd used them +lately.</p> + +<p>One raised an eyebrow at his companion as I shambled up. I could pretty +well guess the impression I made, dirty,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> unkempt and stained with +nonhuman blood. I asked permission to go into the Terran Zone.</p> + +<p>They asked my name and business, and I toyed with the notion of giving +the name of the man I was inadvertently impersonating. Then I decided +that if Rakhal had passed himself off as Race Cargill, he'd expect +exactly that. And he was also capable of the masterstroke of +impudence—putting out a pickup order, through Spaceforce, for his own +name!</p> + +<p>So I gave the name we'd used from Shainsa to Charin, and tacked one of +the Secret Service passwords on the end of it. They looked at each other +again and one said, "Rascar, eh? This is the guy, all right." He took me +into the little booth by the gate while the other used an intercom +device. Presently they took me along into the HQ building, and into an +office that said "Legate."</p> + +<p>I tried not to panic, but it wasn't easy! Evidently I'd walked square +into another trap. One guard asked me, "All right, now, what exactly is +your business in the Trade City?"</p> + +<p>I'd hoped to locate Rakhal first. Now I knew I'd have no chance and at +all costs I must straighten out this matter of identity before it went +any further.</p> + +<p>"Put me straight through to Magnusson's office, Level 38 at Central HQ, +by visi," I demanded. I was trying to remember if Mack had ever even +heard the name we used in Shainsa. I decided I couldn't risk it. "Name +of Race Cargill."</p> + +<p>The guard grinned without moving. He said to his partner, "That's the +one, all right." He put a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around.</p> + +<p>"Haul off, man. Shake your boots."</p> + +<p>There were two of them, and Spaceforce guards aren't picked for their +good looks. Just the same, I gave a pretty good account of myself until +the inner door opened and a man came storming out.</p> + +<p>"What the devil is all this racket?"</p> + +<p>One guard got a hammerlock on me. "This Dry-towner bum tried to talk us +into making a priority call to Magnusson, the Chief at Central. He knew +a couple of the S.S. passwords. That's what got him through the gate. +Remember, Cargill passed the word that somebody would turn up trying to +impersonate him."</p> + +<p>"I remember." The strange man's eyes were wary and cold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You damned fools," I snarled. "Magnusson will identify me! Can't you +realize you're dealing with an impostor?"</p> + +<p>One of the guards said to the legate in an undertone, "Maybe we ought to +hold him as a suspicious character." But the legate shook his head. "Not +worth the trouble. Cargill said it was a private affair. You might +search him, make sure he's not concealing contraband weapons," he added, +and talked softly to the wide-eyed clerk in the background while the +guards went through my shirtcloak and pockets.</p> + +<p>When they started to unwrap the silk-shrouded Toy I yelled—if the thing +got set off accidentally, there'd be trouble. The legate turned and +rebuked, "Can't you see it's embroidered with the Toad God? It's a +religious amulet of some sort, let it alone."</p> + +<p>They grumbled, but gave it back to me, and the legate commanded, "Don't +mess him up any more. Give him back his knife and take him to the gates. +But make sure he doesn't come back."</p> + +<p>I found myself seized and frog-marched to the gate. One guard pushed my +skean back into its clasp. The other shoved me hard, and I stumbled, +fell sprawling in the dust of the cobbled street, to the accompaniment +of a profane statement about what I could expect if I came back. A +chorus of jeers from a cluster of <i>chak</i> children and veiled women broke +across me.</p> + +<p>I picked myself up, glowered so fiercely at the giggling spectators that +the laughter drained away into silence, and clenched my fists, half +inclined to turn back and bull my way through. Then I subsided. First +round to Rakhal. He had sprung the trap on me, very neatly.</p> + +<p>The street was narrow and crooked, winding between doubled rows of +pebble-houses, and full of dark shadows even in the crimson noon. I +walked aimlessly, favoring the arm the guard had crushed. I was no +closer to settling things with Rakhal, and I had slammed at least one +gate behind me.</p> + +<p>Why hadn't I had sense enough to walk up and demand to <i>see</i> Race +Cargill? Why hadn't I insisted on a fingerprint check? I could prove my +identity, and Rakhal, using my name in my absence, to those who didn't +know me by sight, couldn't. I could at least have made him try. But he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +had maneuvered it very cleverly, so I never had a chance to insist on +proofs.</p> + +<p>I turned into a wineshop and ordered a dram of greenish mountainberry +liquor, sipping it slowly and fingering the few bills and coins in my +pockets. I'd better forget about warning Juli. I couldn't 'vise her from +Charin, except in the Terran zone. I had neither the money nor the time +to make the trip in person, even if I could get passage on a +Terran-dominated airline after today.</p> + +<p>Miellyn. She had flirted with me, and like Dallisa, she might prove +vulnerable. It might be another trap, but I'd take the chance. At least +I could get hints about Evarin. And I needed information. I wasn't used +to this kind of intrigue any more. The smell of danger was foreign to me +now, and I found it unpleasant.</p> + +<p>The small lump of the bird in my pocket tantalized me. I took it out +again. It was a temptation to press the stud and let it settle things, +or at least start them going, then and there.</p> + +<p>After a while I noticed the proprietors of the shop staring at the silk +of the wrappings. They backed off, apprehensive. I held out a coin and +they shook their heads. "You are welcome to the drink," one of them +said. "All we have is at your service. Only please go. Go quickly."</p> + +<p>They would not touch the coins I offered. I thrust the bird in my +pocket, swore and went. It was my second experience with being somehow +tabu, and I didn't like it.</p> + +<p>It was dusk when I realized I was being followed.</p> + +<p>At first it was a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, a head seen too +frequently for coincidence. It developed into a too-persistent footstep +in uneven rhythm.</p> + +<p>Tap-<i>tap</i>-tap. Tap-<i>tap</i>-tap.</p> + +<p>I had my skean handy, but I had a hunch this wasn't anything I could +settle with a skean. I ducked into a side street and waited.</p> + +<p>Nothing.</p> + +<p>I went on, laughing at my imagined fears.</p> + +<p>Then, after a time, the soft, persistent footfall thudded behind me +again.</p> + +<p>I cut across a thieves market, dodging from stall to stall, cursed by +old women selling hot fried goldfish, women in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> striped veils railing at +me in their chiming talk when I brushed their rolled rugs with hasty +feet. Far behind I heard the familiar uneven hurry: tap-<i>tap</i>-tap, +tap-<i>tap</i>-tap.</p> + +<p>I fled down a street where women sat on flower-decked balconies, their +open lanterns flowing with fountains and rivulets of gold and orange +fire. I raced through quiet streets where furred children crept to doors +and watched me pass with great golden eyes that shone in the dark.</p> + +<p>I dodged into an alley and lay there, breathing hard. Someone not two +inches away said, "Are you one of us, brother?"</p> + +<p>I muttered something surly, in his dialect, and a hand, reassuringly +human, closed on my elbow. "This way."</p> + +<p>Out of breath with long running, I let him lead me, meaning to break +away after a few steps, apologize for mistaken identity and vanish, when +a sound at the end of the street made me jerk stiff and listen.</p> + +<p>Tap-<i>tap</i>-tap. Tap-<i>tap</i>-tap.</p> + +<p>I let my arm relax in the hand that guided me, flung a fold of my +<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'shirt cloak'">shirtcloak</ins> over my face, and went along with my unknown guide.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER THIRTEEN</h2> + + +<p>I stumbled over steps, took a jolting stride downward, and found myself +in a dim room jammed with dark figures, human and nonhuman.</p> + +<p>The figures swayed in the darkness, chanting in a dialect not altogether +familiar to me, a monotonous wailing chant, with a single recurrent +phrase: "Kamaina! Kama-aina!" It began on a high note, descending in +weird chromatics to the lowest tone the human ear could resolve.</p> + +<p>The sound made me draw back. Even the Dry-towners shunned the orgiastic +rituals of Kamaina. Earthmen have a reputation for getting rid of the +more objectionable customs—by human standards—on any planet where they +live. But they don't touch religions, and Kamaina, on the surface +anyhow, was a religion.</p> + +<p>I started to turn round and leave, as if I had inadvertently<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> walked +through the wrong door, but my conductor hauled on my arm, and I was +wedged in too tight by now to risk a roughhouse. Trying to force my way +out would only have called attention to me, and the first of the Secret +Service maxims is; when in doubt, go along, keep quiet, and watch the +other guy.</p> + +<p>As my eyes adapted to the dim light, I saw that most of the crowd were +Charin plainsmen or <i>chaks</i>. One or two wore Dry-town shirtcloaks, and I +even thought I saw an Earthman in the crowd, though I was never sure and +I fervently hope not. They were squatting around small crescent-shaped +tables, and all intently gazing at a flickery spot of light at the front +of the cellar. I saw an empty place at one table and dropped there, +finding the floor soft, as if cushioned.</p> + +<p>On each table, small smudging pastilles were burning, and from these +cones of ash-tipped fire came the steamy, swimmy smoke that filled the +darkness with strange colors. Beside me an immature <i>chak</i> girl was +kneeling, her fettered hands strained tightly back at her sides, her +naked breasts pierced for jeweled rings.</p> + +<p>Beneath the pallid fur around her pointed ears, the exquisite animal +face was quite mad. She whispered to me, but her dialect was so thick +that I could follow only a few words, and would just as soon not have +heard those few. An older <i>chak</i> grunted for silence and she subsided, +swaying and crooning.</p> + +<p>There were cups and decanters on all the tables, and a woman tilted +pale, phosphorescent fluid into a cup and offered it to me. I took one +sip, then another. It was cold and pleasantly tart, and not until the +second swallow turned sweet on my tongue did I know what I tasted. I +pretended to swallow while the woman's eyes were fixed on me, then +somehow contrived to spill the filthy stuff down my shirt.</p> + +<p>I was wary even of the fumes, but there was nothing else I could do. The +stuff was <i>shallavan</i>, outlawed on every planet in the Terran Empire and +every halfway decent planet outside it.</p> + +<p>More and more figures, men and creatures, kept crowding into the cellar, +which was not very large. The place looked like the worst nightmare of a +drug-dreamer, ablaze with the colors of the smoking incense, the swaying +crowd, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> their monotonous cries. Quite suddenly there was a blaze of +purple light and someone screamed in raving ecstasy: "<i>Na ki na Nebran +n'hai Kamaina!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Kamayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena!" shrilled the tranced mob.</p> + +<p>An old man jumped up and started haranguing the crowd. I could just +follow his dialect. He was talking about Terra. He was talking about +riots. He was jabbering mystical gibberish which I couldn't understand +and didn't want to understand, and rabble-rousing anti-Terran propaganda +which I understood much too well.</p> + +<p>Another blaze of lights and another long scream in chorus: +"Kamayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena!"</p> + +<p>Evarin stood in the blaze of the many-colored light.</p> + +<p>The Toymaker, as I had seen him last, cat-smooth, gracefully alien, +shrouded in a ripple of giddy crimsons. Behind him was a blackness. I +waited till the painful blaze of lights abated, then, straining my eyes +to see past him, I got my worst shock.</p> + +<p>A woman stood there, naked to the waist, her hands ritually fettered +with little chains that stirred and clashed musically as she moved +stiff-legged in a frozen dream. Hair like black grass banded her brow +and naked shoulders, and her eyes were crimson.</p> + +<p>And the eyes lived in the dead dreaming face. They lived, and they were +mad with terror although the lips curved in a gently tranced smile.</p> + +<p>Miellyn.</p> + +<p>Evarin was speaking in that dialect I barely understood. His arms were +flung high and his cloak went spilling away from them, rippling like +something alive. The jammed humans and nonhumans swayed and chanted and +he swayed above them like an iridescent bug, weaving arms rippling back +and forth, back and forth. I strained to catch his words.</p> + +<p>"Our world ... an old world."</p> + +<p>"Kamayeeeeena," whimpered the shrill chorus.</p> + +<p>"... humans, humans, all humans would make slaves of us all, all save +the Children of the Ape...."</p> + +<p>I lost the thread for a moment. True. The Terran Empire has one small +blind spot in otherwise sane policy, ignoring that nonhuman and human +have lived placidly here for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> millennia: they placidly assumed that +humans were everywhere the dominant race, as on Earth itself.</p> + +<p>The Toymaker's weaving arms went on spinning, spinning. I rubbed my eyes +to clear them of <i>shallavan</i> and incense. I hoped that what I saw was an +illusion of the drug—something, something huge and dark, was hovering +over the girl. She stood placidly, hands clasped on her chains, but her +eyes writhed in the frozen calm of her face.</p> + +<p>Then something—I can only call it a sixth sense—bore it on me that +there was <i>someone</i> outside the door. I was perhaps the only creature +there, except for Evarin, not drugged with <i>shallavan</i>, and perhaps +that's all it was. But during the days in the Secret Service I'd had to +develop some extra senses. Five just weren't enough for survival.</p> + +<p>I <i>knew</i> somebody was fixing to break down that door, and I had a good +idea why. I'd been followed, by the legate's orders, and, tracking me +here, they'd gone away and brought back reinforcements.</p> + +<p>Someone struck a blow on the door and a stentorian voice bawled, "Open +up there, in the name of the Empire!"</p> + +<p>The chanting broke in ragged quavers. Evarin stopped. Somewhere a woman +screamed. The lights abruptly went out and a stampede started in the +room. Women struck me with chains, men kicked, there were shrieks and +howls. I thrust my way forward, butting with elbows and knees and +shoulders.</p> + +<p>A dusky emptiness yawned and I got a glimpse of sunlight and open sky +and knew that Evarin had stepped through into <i>somewhere</i> and was gone. +The banging on the door sounded like a whole regiment of Spaceforce out +there. I dived toward the shimmer of little stars which marked Miellyn's +tiara in the darkness, braving the black horror hovering over her, and +touched rigid girl-flesh, cold as death.</p> + +<p>I grabbed her and ducked sideways. This time it wasn't intuition—nine +times out of ten, anyway, intuition is just a mental shortcut which adds +up all the things which your subconscious has noticed while you were +busy thinking about something else. Every native building on Wolf had +concealed entrances and exits and I know where to look for them. This +one was exactly where I expected. I pushed at it and found myself in a +long, dim corridor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>The head of a woman peered from an opening door. She saw Miellyn's limp +body hanging on my arm and her mouth widened in a silent scream. Then +the head popped back out of sight and a door slammed. I heard the bolt +slide. I ran for the end of the hall, the girl in my arms, thinking that +this was where I came in, as far as Miellyn was concerned, and wondering +why I bothered.</p> + +<p>The door opened on a dark, peaceful street. One lonely moon was setting +beyond the rooftops. I set Miellyn on her feet, but she moaned and +crumpled against me. I put my shirtcloak around her bare shoulders. +Judging by the noises and yells, we'd gotten out just in time. No one +came out the exit behind us. Either the Spaceforce had plugged it or, +more likely, everyone else in the cellar had been too muddled by drugs +to know what was going on.</p> + +<p>But it was only a few minutes, I knew, before Spaceforce would check the +whole building for concealed escape holes. Suddenly, and irrelevantly, I +found myself thinking of a day not too long ago, when I'd stood up in +front of a unit-in-training of Spaceforce, introduced to them as an +Intelligence expert on native towns, and solemnly warned them about +concealed exits and entrances. I wondered, for half a minute, if it +might not be simpler just to wait here and let them pick me up.</p> + +<p>Then I hoisted Miellyn across my shoulders. She was heavier than she +looked, and after a minute, half conscious, she began to struggle and +moan. There was a <i>chak</i>-run cookshop down the street, a place I'd once +known well, with an evil reputation and worse food, but it was quiet and +stayed open all night. I turned in at the door, bending at the low +lintel.</p> + +<p>The place was smoke-filled and foul-smelling. I dumped Miellyn on a +couch and sent the frowsy waiter for two bowls of noodles and coffee, +handed him a few extra coins, and <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'telling'">told</ins> him to leave us alone. He +probably drew the worst possible inference—I saw his muzzle twitch at +the smell of <i>shallavan</i>—but it was that kind of place anyhow. He drew +down the shutters and went.</p> + +<p>I stared at the unconscious girl, then shrugged and started on the +noodles. My own head was still swimmy with the fumes, incense and drug, +and I wanted it clear. I wasn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> quite sure what I was going to do, but +I had Evarin's right-hand girl, and I was going to use her.</p> + +<p>The noodles were greasy and had a curious taste, but they were hot, and +I ate all of one bowl before Miellyn stirred and whimpered and put up +one hand, with a little clinking of chains, to her hair. The gesture was +indefinably reminiscent of Dallisa, and for the first time I saw the +likeness between them. It made me wary and yet curiously softened.</p> + +<p>Finding she could not move freely, she rolled over, sat up and stared +around in growing bewilderment and dismay.</p> + +<p>"There was a sort of riot," I said. "I got you out. Evarin ditched you. +And you can quit thinking what you're thinking, I put my shirtcloak on +you because you were bare to the waist and it didn't look so good." I +stopped to think that over, and amended: "I mean I couldn't haul you +around the streets that way. It looked good enough."</p> + +<p>To my surprise, she gave a shaky little giggle, and held out her +fettered hands. "Will you?"</p> + +<p>I broke her links and freed her. She rubbed her wrists as if they hurt +her, then drew up her draperies, pinned them so that she was decently +covered, and tossed back my shirtcloak. Her eyes were wide and soft in +the light of the flickering stub of candle.</p> + +<p>"O, Rakhal," she sighed. "When I saw you there—" She sat up, clasping +her hands hard together, and when she continued her voice was curiously +cold and controlled for anyone so childish. It was almost as cold as +Dallisa's.</p> + +<p>"If you've come from Kyral, I'm not going back. I'll never go back, and +you may as well know it."</p> + +<p>"I don't come from Kyral, and I don't care where you go. I don't care +what you do." I suddenly realized that the last statement was wholly +untrue, and to cover my confusion I shoved the remaining bowl of noodles +at her.</p> + +<p>"Eat."</p> + +<p>She wrinkled her nose in fastidious disgust. "I'm not hungry."</p> + +<p>"Eat it anyway. You're still half doped, and the food will clear your +head." I picked up one mug of the coffee and drained it at a single +swallow. "What were you doing in that disgusting den?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>Without warning she flung herself across the table at me, throwing her +arms round my neck. Startled, I let her cling a moment, then reached up +and firmly unfastened her hands.</p> + +<p>"None of that now. I fell for it once, and it landed me in the middle of +the mudpie."</p> + +<p>But her fingers bit my shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Rakhal, Rakhal, I tried to get away and find you. Have you still got +the bird? You haven't set it off yet? Oh, don't, don't, don't, Rakhal, +you don't know what Evarin is, you don't know what he's doing." The +words spilled out of her like floodwaters. "He's won so many of you, +don't let him have you too, Rakhal. They call you an honest man, you +worked once for Terra, the Terrans would believe you if you went to them +and told them what he—Rakhal, take me to the Terran Zone, take me +there, take me there where they'll protect me from Evarin."</p> + +<p>At first I tried to stop her, question her, then waited and let the +torrent of entreaty run on and on. At last, exhausted and breathless, +she lay quietly against my shoulder, her head fallen forward. The musty +reek of <i>shallavan</i> mingled with the flower scent of her hair.</p> + +<p>"Kid," I said heavily at last, "you and your Toymaker have both got me +wrong. I'm not Rakhal Sensar."</p> + +<p>"You're not?" She drew back, regarding me in dismay. Her eyes searched +every inch of me, from the gray streak across my forehead to the scar +running down into my collar. "Then who—"</p> + +<p>"Race Cargill. Terran Intelligence."</p> + +<p>She stared, her mouth wide like a child's.</p> + +<p>Then she laughed. She <i>laughed</i>! At first I thought she was hysterical. +I stared at her in consternation. Then, as her wide eyes met mine, with +all the mischief of the nonhuman which has mingled into the human here, +all the circular complexities of Wolf illogic behind the woman in them, +I started to laugh too.</p> + +<p>I threw back my head and roared, until we were clinging together and +gasping with mirth like a pair of raving fools. The <i>chak</i> waiter came +to the door and stared at us, and I roared "Get the hell out," between +spasms of crazy laughter.</p> + +<p>Then she was wiping her face, tears of mirth still drip<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>ping down her +cheeks, and I was frowning bleakly into the empty bowls.</p> + +<p>"Cargill," she said hesitantly, "you can take me to the Terrans where +Rakhal—"</p> + +<p>"Hell's bells," I exploded. "I can't take you anywhere, girl. I've got +to find Rakhal—" I stopped in midsentence and looked at her clearly for +the first time.</p> + +<p>"Child, I'll see that you're protected, if I can. But I'm afraid you've +walked from the trap to the cookpot. There isn't a house in Charin that +will hold me. I've been thrown out twice today."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I don't know how the word spreads, but it happens, in +nonhuman parts. I think they can see trouble written in a human face, or +smell it on the wind." She fell silent, her face propped sleepily +between her hands, her hair falling in tangles. I took one of her hands +in mine and turned it over.</p> + +<p>It was a fine hand, with birdlike bones and soft rose-tinted nails; but +the lines and hardened places around the knuckles reminded me that she, +too, came from the cold austerity of the salt Dry-towns. After a moment +she flushed and drew her hand from mine.</p> + +<p>"What are you thinking, Cargill?" she asked, and for the first time I +heard her voice sobered, without the coquetry, which must after all have +been a very thin veneer.</p> + +<p>I answered her simply and literally. "I am thinking of Dallisa. I +thought you were very different, and yet, I see that you are very like +her."</p> + +<p>I thought she would question what I knew of her sister, but she let it +pass in silence. After a time she said, "Yes, we were twins." Then, +after a long silence, she added, "But she was always much the older."</p> + +<p>And that was all I ever knew of whatever obscure pressures had shaped +Dallisa into an austere and tragic Clytemnestra, and Miellyn into a +pixie runaway.</p> + +<p>Outside the drawn shutters, dawn was brightening. Miellyn shivered, +drawing her thin draperies around her bare throat. I glanced at the +little rim of jewels that starred her hair and said, "You'd better take +those off and hide them. They alone would be enough to have you hauled +into an alley and strangled, in this part of Charin." I hauled the bird<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> +Toy from my pocket and slapped it on the greasy table, still wrapped in +its silk. "I don't suppose you know which of us this thing is set to +kill?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about the Toys."</p> + +<p>"You seem to know plenty about the Toymaker."</p> + +<p>"I thought so. Until last night." I looked at the rigid, clamped mouth +and thought that if she were really as soft and delicate as she looked, +she would have wept. Then she struck her small hand on the tabletop and +burst out, "It's not a religion. It isn't even an honest movement for +freedom! Its a—a front for smuggling, and drugs, and—and every other +filthy thing!</p> + +<p>"Believe it or not, when I left Shainsa, I thought Nebran was the answer +to the way the Terrans were strangling us! Now I know there are worse +things on Wolf than the Terran Empire! I've heard of Rakhal Sensar, and +whatever you may think of Rakhal, he's too decent to be mixed up in +anything like this!"</p> + +<p>"Suppose you tell me what's really going on," I suggested. She couldn't +add much to what I knew already, but the last fragments of the pattern +were beginning to settle into place. Rakhal, seeking the matter +transmitter and some key to the nonhuman sciences of Wolf—I knew now +what the city of Silent Ones had reminded me of!—had somehow crossed +the path of the Toymaker.</p> + +<p>Evarin's words now made sense: "<i>You were clever at evading our +surveillance—for a while.</i>" Possibly, though I'd never know, Cuinn had +been keeping one foot in each camp, working for Kyral and for Evarin. +The Toymaker, knowing of Rakhal's anti-Terran activities, had believed +he would make a valuable ally and had taken steps to secure his help.</p> + +<p>Juli herself had given me the clue: "<i>He smashed Rindy's Toys.</i>" Out of +the context it sounded like the work of a madman. Now, having +encountered Evarin's workshop, it made plain good sense.</p> + +<p>And I think I had known all along that Rakhal could not have been +playing Evarin's game. He might have turned against Terra—though now I +was beginning even to doubt that—and certainly he'd have killed me if +he found me. But he would have done it himself, and without malice. +<i>Killed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> without malice</i>—that doesn't make sense in any of the +languages of Terra. But it made sense to me.</p> + +<p>Miellyn had finished her brief recitation and was drowsing, her head +pillowed on the table. The reddish light was growing, and I realized +that I was waiting for dawn as, days ago, I had waited for sunset in +Shainsa, with every nerve stretched to the breaking point. It was dawn +of the third morning, and this bird lying on the table before me must +fly or, far away in the Kharsa, another would fly at Juli.</p> + +<p>I said, "There's some distance limitation on this one, I understand, +since I have to be fairly near its object. If I lock it in a steel box +and drop it in the desert, I'll guarantee it won't bother anybody. I +don't suppose you'd have a shot at stealing the other one for me?"</p> + +<p>She raised her head, eyes flashing. "Why should you worry about Rakhal's +wife?" she flared, and for no good reason it occurred to me that she was +jealous. "I might have known Evarin wouldn't shoot in the dark! Rakhal's +wife, that Earthwoman, what do you care for her?"</p> + +<p>It seemed important to set her straight. I explained that Juli was my +sister, and saw a little of the tension fade from her face, but not all. +Remembering the custom of the Dry-towns, I was not wholly surprised when +she added, jealously, "When I heard of your feud, I guessed it was over +that woman!"</p> + +<p>"But not in the way you think," I said. Juli had been part of it, +certainly. Even then I had not wanted her to turn her back on her world, +but if Rakhal had remained with Terra, I would have accepted his +marriage to Juli. Accepted it. I'd have rejoiced. God knows we had been +closer than brothers, those years in the Dry-towns. And then, before +Miellyn's flashing eyes, I suddenly faced my secret hate, my secret +fear. No, the quarrel had not been all Rakhal's doing.</p> + +<p>He had not turned his back, unexplained on Terra. In some unrecognized +fashion, I had done my best to drive him away. And when he had gone, I +had banished a part of myself as well, and thought I could end the +struggle by saying it didn't exist. And now, facing what I had done to +all of us, I knew that my revenge—so long sought, so dearly +cherished—must be abandoned.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We still have to deal with the bird," I said. "It's a gamble, with all +the cards wild." I could dismantle it, and trust to luck that Wolf +illogic didn't include a tamper mechanism. But that didn't seem worth +the risk.</p> + +<p>"First I've got to <i>find</i> Rakhal. If I set the bird free and it killed +him, it wouldn't settle anything." For I could not kill Rakhal. Not, +now, because I knew life would be a worse punishment than death. But +because—I knew it, now—if Rakhal died, Juli would die, too. And if I +killed him I'd be killing the best part of myself. Somehow Rakhal and I +must strike a balance between our two worlds, and try to build a new one +from them.</p> + +<p>"And I can't sit here and talk any longer. I haven't time to take you—" +I stopped, remembering the spaceport cafe at the edge of the Kharsa. +There was a street-shrine, or matter transmitter, right there, across +the street from the Terran HQ. <i>All these years....</i></p> + +<p>"You know your way in the transmitters. You can go there in a second or +two." She could warn Juli, tell Magnusson. But when I suggested this, +giving her a password that would take her straight to the top, she +turned white. "All jumps have to be made through the Mastershrine."</p> + +<p>I stopped and thought about that.</p> + +<p>"Where is Evarin likely to be, right now?"</p> + +<p>She gave a nervous shudder. "He's everywhere!"</p> + +<p>"Rubbish! He's not omniscient! Why, you little fool, he didn't even +recognize me. He thought I was Rakhal!" I wasn't too sure, myself, but +Miellyn needed reassurance. "Or take <i>me</i> to the Mastershrine. I can +find Rakhal in that scanning device of Evarin's." I saw refusal in her +face and pushed on, "If Evarin's there, I'll prove he's fallible enough +with a skean in his throat! And here"—I thrust the Toy into her +hand—"hang on to this, will you?"</p> + +<p>She put it matter-of-factly into her draperies. "I don't mind that. But +to the shrine—" Her voice quivered, and I stood up and pushed at the +table.</p> + +<p>"Let's get going. Where's the nearest street-shrine?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! Oh, I don't dare!"</p> + +<p>"You've got to." I saw the <i>chak</i> who owned the place edging round the +door again and said, "There's no use arguing, Miellyn." When she had +readjusted her robes a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> little while ago, she had pinned them so that +the flat sprawl of the Nebran embroideries was over her breasts. I put a +finger against them, not in a sensuous gesture, and said, "The minute +they see these, they'll throw us out of here, too."</p> + +<p>"If you knew what I know of Nebran, you wouldn't <i>want</i> me to go near +the Mastershrine again!" There was that faint coquettishness in her +sidewise smile.</p> + +<p>And suddenly I realized that I didn't want her to. But she was not +Dallisa and she could not sit in cold dignity while her world fell into +ruin. Miellyn must fight for the one she wanted.</p> + +<p>And then some of that primitive male hostility which lives in every man +came to the surface, and I gripped her arm until she whimpered. Then I +said, in the Shainsan which still comes to my tongue when moved or +angry, "Damn it, you're <i>going</i>. Have you forgotten that if it weren't +for me you'd have been torn to pieces by that raving mob, or something +worse?"</p> + +<p>That did it. She pulled away and I saw again, beneath the veneer of +petulant coquetry, that fierce and untamable insolence of the +Dry-towner. The more fierce and arrogant, in this girl, because she had +burst her fettered hands free and shaken off the ruin of the past.</p> + +<p>I was seized with a wildly inappropriate desire to seize her, crush her +in my arms, taste the red honey of that teasing mouth. The effort of +mastering the impulse made me rough.</p> + +<p>I shoved at her and said, "Come on. Let's get there before Evarin does."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER FOURTEEN</h2> + + +<p>Outside in the streets it was full day, and the color and life of Charin +had subsided into listlessness again, a dim morning dullness and +silence. Only a few men lounged wearily in the streets, as if the sun +had sapped their energy. And always the pale fleecy-haired children, +human and furred nonhuman, played their mysterious games on the curbs +and gutters and staring at us with neither curiosity nor malice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miellyn was shaking when she set her feet into the patterned stones of +the street-shrine.</p> + +<p>"Scared, Miellyn?"</p> + +<p>"I know Evarin. You don't. But"—her mouth twitched in a pitiful attempt +at the old mischief—"when I am with a great and valorous Earthman...."</p> + +<p>"Cut it out," I growled, and she giggled. "You'll have to stand closer +to me. The transmitters are meant only for one person."</p> + +<p>I stooped and put <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'her'">my</ins> arms round her. "Like this?"</p> + +<p>"Like this," she whispered, pressing herself against me. A staggering +whirl of dizzy darkness swung round my head. The street vanished. After +an instant the floor steadied and we stepped into the terminal room in +the Mastershrine, under a skylight dim with the last red slant of +sunset. Distant hammering noises rang in my ears.</p> + +<p>Miellyn whispered, "Evarin's not here, but he might jump through at any +second." I wasn't listening.</p> + +<p>"Where is this place, Miellyn? Where on the planet?"</p> + +<p>"No one knows but Evarin, I think. There are no doors. Anyone who goes +in or out, jumps through the transmitter." She pointed. "The scanning +device is in there, we'll have to go through the workroom."</p> + +<p>She was patting her crushed robes into place, smoothing her hair with +fastidious fingers. "I don't suppose you have a comb? I've no time to go +to my own—"</p> + +<p>I'd known she was a vain and pampered brat, but this passed all reason, +and I said so, exploding at her. She looked at me as if I wasn't quite +intelligent. "The Little Ones, my friend, notice things. You are quite +enough of a roughneck, but if I, Nebran's priestess, walk through their +workroom all blown about and looking like the tag end of an orgy in +Ardcarran...."</p> + +<p>Abashed, I fished in a pocket and offered her a somewhat battered pocket +comb. She looked at it distastefully but used it to good purpose, +smoothing her hair swiftly, rearranging her loose-pinned robe so that +the worst of the tears and stains were covered, and giving me, +meanwhile, an artless and rather tempting view of some delicious +curvature. She replaced the starred tiara on her ringlets and finally +opened the door of the workroom and we walked through.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span></p> + +<p>Not for years had I known that particular sensation—<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'thousand'">thousands</ins> of eyes, +boring holes in the center of my back somewhere. There <i>were</i> eyes; the +round inhuman orbs of the dwarf <i>chaks</i>, the faceted stare of the prism +eyes of the Toys. The workroom wasn't a hundred feet long, but it felt +longer than a good many miles I've walked. Here and there the dwarfs +murmured an obsequious greeting to Miellyn, and she made some +lighthearted answer.</p> + +<p>She had warned me to walk as if I had every right to be there, and I +strode after her as if we were simply going to an agreed-on meeting in +the next room. But I was drenched with cold sweat before the farther +door finally closed, safe and blessedly opaque, behind us. Miellyn, too, +was shaking with fright, and I put a hand on her arm.</p> + +<p>"Steady, kid. Where's the scanner?"</p> + +<p>She touched the panel I'd seen. "I'm not sure I can focus it accurately. +Evarin never let me touch it."</p> + +<p>This was a fine time to tell me that. "How does it work?"</p> + +<p>"It's an adaptation of the transmitter principle. It lets you see +anywhere, but without jumping. It uses a tracer mechanism like the one +in the Toys. If Rakhal's electrical-impulse pattern were on file—just a +minute." She fished out the bird Toy and unwrapped it. "Here's how we +find out which of you this is keyed to."</p> + +<p>I looked at the fledgling bird, lying innocently in her palm, as she +pushed aside the feathers, exposing a tiny crystal. "If it's keyed to +you, you'll see yourself in this, as if the screen were a mirror. If +it's keyed to Rakhal...."</p> + +<p>She touched the crystal to the surface of the screen. Little flickers of +snow wavered and danced. Then, abruptly, we were looking down from a +height at the lean back of a man in a leather jacket. Slowly he turned. +I saw the familiar set of his shoulders, saw the back of his head come +into an aquiline profile, and the profile turn slowly into a scarred, +seared mask more hideously claw-marked and disfigured than my own.</p> + +<p>"Rakhal," I muttered. "Shift the focus if you can, Miellyn, get a look +out the window or something. Charin's a big city. If we could get a look +at a landmark—"</p> + +<p>Rakhal was talking soundlessly, his lips moving as he spoke to someone +out of sight range of the scanning device.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> Abruptly Miellyn said, +"There." She had caught a window in the sight field of the pane. I could +see a high pylon and two of three uprights that looked like a bridge, +just outside. I said, "It's the Bridge of Summer Snows. I know where he +is now. Turn it off, Miellyn, we can find him—" I was turning away when +Miellyn screamed.</p> + +<p>"Look!"</p> + +<p>Rakhal had turned his back on the scanner and for the first time I could +see who he was talking to. A hunched, catlike shoulder twisted; a +sinuous neck, a high-held head that was not quite human.</p> + +<p>"Evarin!" I swore. "That does it. He knows now that I'm not Rakhal, if +he didn't know it all along! Come on, girl, we're getting out of here!"</p> + +<p>This time there was no pretense of normality as we dashed through the +workroom. Fingers dropped from half-completed Toys as they stared after +us. <i>Toys!</i> I wanted to stop and smash them all. But if we hurried, we +might find Rakhal. And, with luck, we would find Evarin with him.</p> + +<p>And then I was going to bang their heads together. I'd reached a +saturation point on adventure. I'd had all I wanted. I realized that I'd +been up all night, that I was exhausted. I wanted to murder and smash, +and wanted to fall down somewhere and go to sleep, all at once. We +banged the workroom door shut and I took time to shove a heavy divan +against it, blockading it.</p> + +<p>Miellyn stared. "The Little Ones would not harm me," she began. "I am +sacrosanct."</p> + +<p>I wasn't sure. I had a notion her status had changed plenty, beginning +when I saw her chained and drugged, and standing under the hovering +horror. But I didn't say so.</p> + +<p>"Maybe. But there's nothing sacred about <i>me</i>!"</p> + +<p>She was already inside the recess where the Toad God squatted. "There is +a street-shrine just beyond the Bridge of Summer Snows. We can jump +directly there." Abruptly she froze in my arms, with a convulsive +shudder.</p> + +<p>"Evarin! Hold me, tight—he's jumping in! Quick!"</p> + +<p>Space reeled round us, and then....</p> + +<p>Can you split instantaneousness into fragments? It didn't make sense, +but so help me, that's what happened. And<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> everything that happened, +occurred within less than a second. We landed in the street-shrine. I +could see the pylon and the bridge and the rising sun of Charin. Then +there was the giddy internal wrenching, a blast of icy air whistled +round us, and we were gazing out at the Polar mountains, ringed in their +eternal snow.</p> + +<p>Miellyn clutched at me. "Pray! Pray to the Gods of Terra, if there are +any!"</p> + +<p>She clung so violently that it felt as if her small body was trying to +push through me and come out the other side. I hung on tight. Miellyn +knew what she was doing in the transmitter; I was just along for the +ride and I didn't relish the thought of being dropped off somewhere in +that black limbo we traversed.</p> + +<p>We jumped again, the sickness of disorientation forcing a moan from the +girl, and darkness shivered round us. I looked on an unfamiliar street +of black night and dust-bleared stars. She whimpered, "Evarin knows what +I'm doing. He's jumping us all over the planet. He can work the controls +with his mind. Psychokinetics—I can do it a little, but I never +dared—oh, hang on <i>tight</i>!"</p> + +<p>Then began one of the most amazing duels ever fought. Miellyn would make +some tiny movement, and we would be falling, blind and dizzy, through +blackness. Halfway through the giddiness, a new direction would wrench +us and we would be thrust elsewhere, and look out into a new street.</p> + +<p>One instant I smelled hot coffee from the spaceport cafe near the +Kharsa. An instant later it was blinding noon, with crimson fronds +waving above us and a dazzle of water. We flicked in and out of the +salty air of Shainsa, glimpsed flowers on a Daillon street, moonlight, +noon, red twilight flickered and went, shot through with the terrible +giddiness of hyperspace.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly I caught a second glimpse of the bridge and the pylon; a +moment's oversight had landed us for an instant in Charin. The blackness +started to reel down, but my reflexes are fast and I made one swift, +scrabbling step forward. We lurched, sprawled, locked together, on the +stones of the Bridge of Summer Snows. Battered, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> bruised, and +bloody, we were still alive, and where we wanted to be.</p> + +<p>I lifted Miellyn to her feet. Her eyes were dazed with pain. The ground +swayed and rocked under our feet as we fled along the bridge. At the far +end, I looked up at the pylon. Judging from its angle, we couldn't be +more than a hundred feet from the window through which I'd seen that +landmark in the scanner. In this street there was a wineshop, a silk +market, and a small private house. I walked up and banged on the door.</p> + +<p>Silence. I knocked again and had time to wonder if we'd find ourselves +explaining things to some uninvolved stranger. Then I heard a child's +high voice, and a deep familiar voice hushing it. The door opened, just +a crack, to reveal part of a scarred face.</p> + +<p>It drew into a hideous grin, then relaxed.</p> + +<p>"I thought it might be you, Cargill. You've taken at least three days +longer than I figured, getting here. Come on in," said Rakhal Sensar.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>CHAPTER FIFTEEN</h2> + + +<p>He hadn't changed much in six years. His face <i>was</i> worse than mine; he +hadn't had the plastic surgeons of Terran Intelligence doing their best +for him. His mouth, I thought fleetingly, must hurt like hell when he +drew it up into the kind of grin he was grinning now. His eyebrows, +thick and fierce with gray in them, went up as he saw Miellyn; but he +backed away to let us enter, and shut the door behind us.</p> + +<p>The room was bare and didn't look as if it had been lived in much. The +floor was stone, rough-laid, a single fur rug laid before a brazier. A +little girl was sitting on the rug, drinking from a big double-handled +mug, but she scrambled to her feet as we came in, and backed against the +wall, looking at us with wide eyes.</p> + +<p>She had pale-red hair like Juli's, cut straight in a fringe across her +forehead, and she was dressed in a smock of dyed red fur that almost +matched her hair. A little smear of milk like a white moustache clung to +her upper lip where she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> had forgotten to wipe her mouth. She was about +five years old, with deep-set dark eyes like Juli's, that watched me +gravely without surprise or fear; she evidently knew who I was.</p> + +<p>"Rindy," Rakhal said quietly, not taking his eyes from me. "Go into the +other room."</p> + +<p>Rindy didn't move, still staring at me. Then she moved toward Miellyn, +looking up intently not at the woman, but at the pattern of embroideries +across her dress. It was very quiet, until Rakhal added, in a gentle and +curiously moderate voice, "Do you still carry a skean, Race?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "There's an ancient proverb on Terra, about blood being +thicker than water, Rakhal. That's Juli's daughter. I'm not going to +kill her father right before her eyes." My rage spilled over then, and I +bellowed, "To hell with your damned Dry-town feuds and your filthy Toad +God and all the rest of it!"</p> + +<p>Rakhal said <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'harsly'">harshly</ins>, "Rindy. I told you to get out."</p> + +<p>"She needn't go." I took a step toward the little girl, a wary eye on +Rakhal. "I don't know quite what you're up to, but it's nothing for a +child to be mixed up in. Do what you damn please. I can settle with you +any time.</p> + +<p>"The first thing is to get Rindy out of here. She belongs with Juli and, +damn it, that's where she's going." I held out my arms to the little +girl and said, "It's over, Rindy, whatever he's done to you. Your mother +sent me to find you. Don't you want to go to your mother?"</p> + +<p>Rakhal made a menacing gesture and warned, "I wouldn't—"</p> + +<p>Miellyn darted swiftly between us and caught up the child in her arms. +Rindy began to struggle noiselessly, kicking and whimpering, but Miellyn +took two quick steps, and flung an inner door open. Rakhal took a stride +toward her. She whirled on him, fighting to control the furious little +girl, and gasped, "Settle it between you, without the baby watching!"</p> + +<p>Through the open door I briefly saw a bed, a child's small dresses +hanging on a hook, before Miellyn kicked the door shut and I heard a +latch being fastened. Behind the closed door Rindy broke into angry +screams, but I put my back against the door.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She's right. We'll settle it between the two of us. What have you done +to that child?"</p> + +<p>"If you thought—" Rakhal stopped himself in midsentence and stood +watching me without moving for a minute. Then he laughed.</p> + +<p>"You're as stupid as ever, Race. Why, you fool, I knew Juli would run +straight to you, if she was scared enough. I knew it would bring you out +of hiding. Why, you damned fool!" He stood mocking me, but there was a +strained fury, almost a frenzy of contempt behind the laughter.</p> + +<p>"You filthy coward, Race! Six years hiding in the Terran zone. Six +years, and I gave you six months! If you'd had the guts to walk out +after me, after I rigged that final deal to give you the chance, we +could have gone after the biggest thing on Wolf. And we could have +brought it off together, instead of spending years spying and dodging +and hunting! And now, when I finally get you out of hiding, all you want +to do is run back where you'll be safe! I thought you had more guts!"</p> + +<p>"Not for Evarin's dirty work!"</p> + +<p>Rakhal swore hideously. "Evarin! Do you really believe—I might have +known he'd get to you too! That girl—and you've managed to wreck all I +did there, too!" Suddenly, so swiftly my eyes could hardly follow, he +whipped out his skean and came at me. "Get away from that door!"</p> + +<p>I stood my ground. "You'll have to kill me first. And I won't fight you, +Rakhal. We'll settle this, but we'll do it my way for once, like +Earthmen."</p> + +<p>"<i>Son of the Ape!</i> Get your skean out, you stinking coward!"</p> + +<p>"I won't do it, Rakhal." I stood and defied him. I had outmaneuvered +Dry-towners in a <i>shegri</i> bet. I knew Rakhal, and I knew he would not +knife an unarmed man. "We fought once with the <i>kifirgh</i> and it didn't +settle anything. This time we'll do it my way. I threw my skean away +before I came here. I won't fight."</p> + +<p>He thrust at me. Even I could see that the blow was a feint, and I had a +flashing, instantaneous memory of Dallisa's threat to drive the knife +through my palms. But even while I commanded myself to stand steady, +sheer reflex threw me forward, grabbing at his wrist and the knife.</p> + +<p>Between my grappling hand he twisted and I felt the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> skean drive home, +rip through my jacket with a tearing sound; felt the thin fine line of +touch, not pain yet, as it sliced flesh. Then pain burned through my +ribs and I felt hot blood, and I wanted to kill Rakhal, wanted to get my +hands around his throat and kill him with them. And at the same time I +was raging because I didn't want to fight the crazy fool, I wasn't even +mad at him.</p> + +<p>Miellyn flung the door open, shrieking, and suddenly the Toy, released, +was darting a small whirring droning horror, straight at Rakhal's eyes. +I yelled. But there was no time even to warn him. I bent and butted him +in the stomach. He grunted, doubled up in agony and fell out of the path +of the diving Toy. It whirred in frustration, hovered.</p> + +<p>He writhed in agony, drawing up his knees, clawing at his shirt, while I +turned on Miellyn in immense fury—and stopped. Hers had been a move of +desperation, an instinctive act to restore the balance between a +weaponless man and one who had a knife. Rakhal gasped, in a hoarse voice +with all the breath gone from it:</p> + +<p>"Didn't want to use. Rather fight clean—" Then he opened his closed +fist and suddenly there were <i>two</i> of the little whirring droning +horrors in the room and this one was diving at me, and as I threw myself +headlong to the floor the last puzzle-piece fell into place: Evarin had +made the same bargain with Rakhal as with me!</p> + +<p>I rolled over, dodging. Behind me in the room there was a child's shrill +scream: "Daddy! Daddy!" And abruptly the birds collapsed in midair and +went limp. They fell to the floor like dropping stones and lay there +quivering. Rindy dashed across the room, her small skirts flying, and +grabbed up one of the terrible vicious things in either hand.</p> + +<p>"Rindy!" I bellowed. "No!"</p> + +<p>She stood shaking, tears pouring down her round cheeks, a Toy squeezed +tight in either hand. Dark veins stood out almost black on her fair +temples. "Break them, Daddy," she implored in a little thread of a +voice. "Break them, <i>quick</i>. I can't hang on...."</p> + +<p>Rakhal staggered to his feet like a drunken man and snatched one of the +Toys, grinding it under his heel. He made a grab at the second, reeled +and drew an anguished<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> breath. He crumpled up, clutching at his belly +where I'd butted him. The bird screamed like a living thing.</p> + +<p>Breaking my paralysis of horror I leaped up, ran across the room, +heedless of the searing pain along my side. I snatched the bird from +Rindy and it screamed and shrilled and died as my foot crunched the tiny +feathers. I stamped the still-moving thing into an amorphous mess and +kept on stamping and smashing until it was only a heap of powder.</p> + +<p>Rakhal finally managed to haul himself upright again. His face was so +pale that the scars stood out like fresh burns.</p> + +<p>"That was a foul blow, Race, but I—I know why you did it." He stopped +and breathed for a minute. Then he muttered, "You ... saved my life, you +know. Did you know you were doing it, when you did it?"</p> + +<p>Still breathing hard, I nodded. Done knowingly, it meant an end of +blood-feud. However we had wronged each other, whatever the pledges. I +spoke the words that confirmed it and ended it, finally and forever:</p> + +<p>"There is a life between us. Let it stand for a death."</p> + +<p>Miellyn was standing in the doorway, her hands pressed to her mouth, her +eyes wide. She said shakily, "You're walking around with a knife in your +ribs, you fool!"</p> + +<p>Rakhal whirled and with a quick jerk he pulled the skean loose. It <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'has'">had</ins> +simply been caught in my shirtcloak, in a fold of the rough cloth. He +pulled it away, glanced at the red tip, then relaxed. "Not more than an +inch deep," he said. Then, angrily, defending himself: "You did it +yourself, you ape. I was trying to get rid of the knife when you jumped +me."</p> + +<p>But I knew that and he knew I knew it. He turned and scooped up Rindy, +who was sobbing noisily. She dug her head into his shoulder and I made +out her strangled words. "The other Toys hurt you when I was mad at +you...." she sobbed, rubbing her fists against smeared cheeks. "I—I +wasn't that mad at you. I wasn't that mad at anybody, not even ... him."</p> + +<p>Rakhal pressed <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'her'">his</ins> hand against his daughter's fleecy hair and said, +looking at me over her head, "The Toys activate a child's subconscious +resentments against his parents—I found out that much. That also means +a child can control them for a few seconds. No adult can." A stranger +would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> have seen no change in his expression, but I knew him, and saw.</p> + +<p>"Juli said you threatened Rindy."</p> + +<p>He chuckled and set the child on her feet. "What else could I say that +would have scared Juli enough to send her running to you? Juli's proud, +almost as proud as you are, you stiff-necked Son of the Ape." The insult +did not sting me now.</p> + +<p>"Come on, sit down and let's decide what to do, now we've finished up +the old business." He looked remotely at Miellyn and said, "You must be +Dallisa's sister? I don't suppose your talents include knowing how to +make coffee?"</p> + +<p>They didn't, but with Rindy's help Miellyn managed, and while they were +out of the room Rakhal explained briefly. "Rindy has rudimentary ESP. +I've never had it myself, but I could teach her something—not +much—about how to use it. I've been on Evarin's track ever since that +business of The Lisse.</p> + +<p>"I'd have got it sooner, if you were still working with me, but I +couldn't do anything as a Terran agent, and I had to be kicked out so +thoroughly that the others wouldn't be afraid I was still working +secretly for Terra. For a long time I was just chasing rumors, but when +Rindy got big enough to look in the crystals of Nebran, I started making +some progress.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid to tell Juli; her best safety was the fact that she didn't +know anything. She's always been a stranger in the Dry-towns." He +paused, then said with honest self-evaluation, "Since I left the Secret +Service I've been a stranger there myself."</p> + +<p>I asked, "What about Dallisa?"</p> + +<p>"Twins have some ESP to each other. I knew Miellyn had gone to the +Toymaker. I tried to get Dallisa to find out where Miellyn had gone, +learn more about it. Dallisa wouldn't risk it, but Kyral saw me with +Dallisa and thought it was Miellyn. That put him on my tail, too, and I +had to leave Shainsa. <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original has a quote mark in front of 'I was afraid'">I was afraid</ins> of Kyral," he added soberly. "Afraid +of what he'd do. I couldn't do anything without Rindy and I knew if I +told Juli what I was doing, she'd take Rindy away into the Terran Zone, +and I'd be as good as dead."</p> + +<p>As he talked, I began to realize how vast a web Evarin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> and the +underground organization of Nebran had spread for us. "Evarin was here +today. What for?"</p> + +<p>Rakhal laughed mirthlessly. "He's been trying to get us to kill each +other off. That would get rid of us both. He wants to turn over Wolf to +the nonhumans entirely, I think he's sincere enough, but"—he spread his +hands helplessly—"I can't sit by and see it."</p> + +<p>I asked point-blank, "Are you working for Terra? Or for the Dry-towns? +Or any of the anti-Terran movements?"</p> + +<p>"I'm working for <i>me</i>", he said with a shrug. "I don't think much of the +Terran Empire, but one planet can't fight a galaxy. Race, I want just +one thing. I want the Dry-towns and the rest of Wolf, to have a voice in +their own government. Any planet which makes a substantial contribution +to galactic science, by the laws of the Terran Empire, is automatically +given the status of an independent commonwealth.</p> + +<p>"If a man from the Dry-towns discovers something like a matter +transmitter, Wolf gets dominion status. But Evarin and his gang want to +keep it secret, keep it away from Terra, keep it locked up in places +like Canarsa! Somebody has to get it away from them. And if I do it, I +get a nice fat bonus, and an official position."</p> + +<p>I believed that, where I would have suspected too much protestation of +altruism. Rakhal tossed it aside.</p> + +<p>"You've got Miellyn to take you through the transmitters. Go back to the +Mastershrine, and tell Evarin that Race Cargill is dead. In the Trade +City they think I'm Cargill, and I can get in and out as I choose—sorry +if it caused you trouble, but it was the safest thing I could think +of—and I'll 'vise Magnusson and have him send soldiers to guard the +street-shrines. Evarin might try to escape through one of them."</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "Terra hasn't enough men on all Wolf to cover the +street-shrines in Charin alone. And I can't go back with Miellyn." I +explained. Rakhal pursed his lips and whistled when I described the +fight in the transmitter.</p> + +<p>"You have all the luck, Cargill! I've never been near enough even to be +sure how they work—and I'll bet you didn't begin to understand! We'll +have to do it the hard way, then. It won't be the first time we've +bulled our way<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> through a tight place! We'll face Evarin in his own +hideout! If Rindy's with us, we needn't worry."</p> + +<p>I was willing to let him assume command, but I protested, "You'd take a +child into that—that—"</p> + +<p>"What else can we do? Rindy can control the Toys, and neither you nor I +can do that, if Evarin should decide to throw his whole arsenal at us." +He called Rindy and spoke softly to her. She looked from her father to +me, and back again to her father, then smiled and <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'stetched'">stretched</ins> out her hand +to me.</p> + +<p>Before we ventured into the street, Rakhal scowled at the sprawled +embroideries of Miellyn's robe. He said, "In those things you show up +like a snowfall in Shainsa. If you go out in them, you could be mobbed. +Hadn't you better get rid of them now?"</p> + +<p>"I can't," she protested. "They're the keys to the transmitter!"</p> + +<p>Rakhal looked at the conventionalized idols with curiosity, but said +only, "Cover them up in the street, then. Rindy, find her something to +put over her dress."</p> + +<p>When we reached the street-shrine, Miellyn admonished: "Stand close +together on the stones. I'm not sure we can all make the jump at once, +but we'll have to try."</p> + +<p>Rakhal picked up Rindy and hoisted her to his shoulder. Miellyn dropped +the cloak she had draped over the pattern of the Nebran embroideries, +and we crowded close together. The street swayed and vanished and I felt +the now-familiar dip and swirl of blackness before the world +straightened out again. Rindy was whimpering, dabbing smeary fists at +her face. "Daddy, my nose is bleeding...."</p> + +<p>Miellyn hastily bent and wiped the blood from the snubby nose. Rakhal +gestured impatiently.</p> + +<p>"The workroom. Wreck everything you see. Rindy, if anything starts to +come at us, you stop it. Stop it quick. And"—he bent and took the +little face between his hands—"<i>chiya</i>, remember they're not toys, no +matter how pretty they are."</p> + +<p>Her grave gray eyes blinked, and she nodded.</p> + +<p>Rakhal flung open the door of the elves' workshop with a shout. The +ringing of the anvils shattered into a thousand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> dissonances as I kicked +over a workbench and half-finished Toys crashed in confusion to the +floor.</p> + +<p>The dwarfs scattered like rabbits before our assault of destruction. I +smashed tools, filigree, jewels, stamping everything with my heavy +boots. I shattered glass, caught up a hammer and smashed crystals. There +was a wild exhilaration to it.</p> + +<p>A tiny doll, proportioned like a woman, dashed toward me, shrilling in a +supersonic shriek. I put my foot on her and ground the life out of her, +and she screamed like a living woman as she came apart. Her blue eyes +rolled from her head and lay on the floor watching me. I crushed the +blue jewels under my heel.</p> + +<p>Rakhal swung a tiny hound by the tail. Its head shattered into debris of +almost-invisible gears and wheels. I caught up a chair and wrecked a +glass cabinet of parts with it, swinging furiously. A berserk madness of +smashing and breaking had laid hold on me.</p> + +<p>I was drunk with crushing and shattering and ruining, when I heard +Miellyn scream a warning and turned to see Evarin standing in the +doorway. His green cat-eyes blazed with rage. Then he raised both hands +in a sudden, sardonic gesture, and with a loping, inhuman glide, raced +for the transmitter.</p> + +<p>"Rindy," Rakhal panted, "can you block the transmitter?"</p> + +<p>Instead Rindy shrieked. "We've got to get out! The roof is falling down! +The house is going to fall down on us! The roof, look at the roof!"</p> + +<p>I looked up, transfixed by horror. I saw a wide rift open, saw the +skylight shatter and break, and daylight pouring through the cracking +walls, Rakhal snatched Rindy up, protecting her from the falling debris +with his head and shoulders. I grabbed Miellyn round the waist and we +ran for the rift in the buckling wall.</p> + +<p>We shoved through just before the roof caved in and the walls collapsed, +and we found ourselves standing on a bare grassy hillside, looking down +in shock and horror as below us, section after section of what had been +apparently bare hill and rock caved in and collapsed into dusty rubble.</p> + +<p>Miellyn screamed hoarsely. "Run. Run, hurry!"</p> + +<p>I didn't understand, but I ran. I ran, my sides aching,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> blood streaming +from the forgotten flesh-wound in my side. Miellyn raced beside me and +Rakhal stumbled along, carrying Rindy.</p> + +<p>Then the shock of a great explosion rocked the ground, hurling me down +full length, Miellyn falling on top of me. Rakhal went down on his +knees. Rindy was crying loudly. When I could see straight again, I +looked down at the hillside.</p> + +<p>There was nothing left of Evarin's hideaway or the Mastershrine of +Nebran except a great, gaping hole, still oozing smoke and thick black +dust. Miellyn said aloud, dazed, "So <i>that's</i> what he was going to do!"</p> + +<p>It fitted the peculiar nonhuman logic of the Toymaker. He'd covered the +traces.</p> + +<p>"Destroyed!" Rakhal raged. "All destroyed! The workrooms, the science of +the Toys, the matter transmitter—the minute we find it, it's +destroyed!" He beat his fists furiously. "Our one chance to learn—"</p> + +<p>"We were lucky to get out alive," said Miellyn quietly. "Where on the +planet are we, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>I looked down the hillside, and stared in amazement. Spread out on the +hillside below us lay the Kharsa, topped by the white skyscraper of the +HQ.</p> + +<p>"I'll be damned," I said, "right here. We're home. Rakhal, you can go +down and make your peace with the Terrans, and Juli. And you, Miellyn—" +Before the others, I could not say what I was thinking, but I put my +hand on her shoulder and kept it there. She smiled, shakily, with a hint +of her old mischief. "I can't go into the Terran Zone looking like this, +can I? Give me that comb again. Rakhal, give me your shirtcloak, my +robes are torn."</p> + +<p>"You vain, stupid female, worrying about a thing like that at a time +like this!" Rakhal's look was like murder. I put my comb in her hand, +then suddenly saw something in the symbols across her breasts. Before +this I had seen only the conventionalized and intricate glyph of the +Toad God. But now—</p> + +<p>I reached out and ripped the cloth away.</p> + +<p>"Cargill!" she protested angrily, crimsoning, covering her bare breasts +with both hands. "Is this the place? And before a child, too!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> + +<p>I hardly heard. "Look!" I exclaimed. "Rakhal, look at the symbols +embroidered into the glyph of the God! You can read the old nonhuman +glyphs. You did it in the city of The Lisse. Miellyn said they were the +key to the transmitters! I'll bet the formula is written out there for +anyone to read!</p> + +<p>"Anyone, that is, who <i>can</i> read it! I can't, but I'll bet the formula +equations for the transmitters are carved on every Toad God glyph on +Wolf. Rakhal, it makes sense. There are two ways of hiding something. +Either keep it locked away, or hide it right out in plain sight. Whoever +bothers even to <i>look</i> at a conventionalized Toad God? There are so many +<i>billions</i> of them...."</p> + +<p>He bent his head over the embroideries, and when he looked up his face +was flushed. "I believe—by the chains of Sharra, I believe you have it, +Race! It may take years to work out the glyphs, but I'll do it, or die +trying!" His scarred and hideous face looked almost handsome in +exultation, and I grinned at him.</p> + +<p>"If Juli leaves enough of you, once she finds out how you maneuvered +her. Look, Rindy's fallen asleep on the grass there. Poor kid, we'd +better get her down to her mother."</p> + +<p>"Right." Rakhal thrust the precious embroidery into his shirtcloak, then +cradled his sleeping daughter in his arms. I watched him with a curious +emotion I could not identify. It seemed to pinpoint some great change, +either in Rakhal or myself. It's not difficult to visualize one's sister +with children, but there was something, some strange incongruity in the +sight of Rakhal carrying the little girl, carefully tucking her up in a +fold of his cloak to keep the sharp breeze off her face.</p> + +<p>Miellyn was limping in her thin sandals, and she shivered. I asked, +"Cold?"</p> + +<p>"No, but—I don't believe Evarin is dead, I'm afraid he got away."</p> + +<p>For a minute the thought dimmed the luster of the morning. Then I +shrugged. "He's probably buried in that big hole up there." But I knew I +would never be sure.</p> + +<p>We walked abreast, my arm around the weary, stumbling woman, and Rakhal +said softly at last, "Like old times."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> + +<p>It wasn't old times, I knew. He would know it too, once his exultation +sobered. I had outgrown my love for intrigue, and I had the feeling this +was Rakhal's last adventure. It was going to take him, as he said, years +to work out the equations for the transmitter. And I had a feeling my +own solid, ordinary desk was going to look good to me in the morning.</p> + +<p>But I knew now that I'd never run away from Wolf again. It was my own +beloved sun that was rising. My sister was waiting for me down below, +and I was bringing back her child. My best friend was walking at my +side. What more could a man want?</p> + +<p>If the memory of dark, poison-berry eyes was to haunt me in nightmares, +they did not come into the waking world. I looked at Miellyn, took her +slender unmanacled hand in mine, and smiled as we walked through the +gates of the city. Now, after all my years on Wolf, I understood the +desire to keep their women under lock and key that was its ancient +custom. I vowed to myself as we went that I should waste no time finding +a fetter shop and having forged therein the perfect steel chains that +should bind my love's wrists to my key forever.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr /> + +<div class="advertisements"> +<h2>ACE SCIENCE FICTION DOUBLES</h2> + +<h4>Two books back-to-back</h4> + +<table> +<tr><td>00990 <b>Against Arcturus</b> Putney</td></tr> +<tr><td><b>Time Thieves</b> Koontz 95c</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>13805 <b>Dark Planet</b> Rackham</td></tr> +<tr><td><b>Herod Men</b> Kamin 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>15890 <b>Door Through Space</b> Bradley</td></tr> +<tr><td><b>Rendezvous on a Lost World</b> Chandler 95c</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>16640 <b>Dragon Master</b></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>Five Gold Bands</b> Vance 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>27415 <b>Gather in the Hall of Planets</b> O'Donnell</td></tr> +<tr><td><b>In the Pocket and Other SF Stories</b> O'Donnell 75c</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>33710 <b>Highwood</b> Barrett</td></tr> +<tr><td><b>Annihilation Factor</b> Bayley 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>66525 <b>Pirates of Zan</b> Leinster</td></tr> +<tr><td><b>Mutant Weapon</b> Leinster 95c</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>68310 <b>Project Jove</b> Glasby</td></tr> +<tr><td><b>Hunters of Jundagai</b> Bulmer 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>75781 <b>Secret of Sinharat</b></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>People of the Talisman</b> Brackett 95c</td></tr> + +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>77525 <b>Son of the Tree</b></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>House of Iszm</b> Vance 95c</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td>77785 <b>Space Willies</b></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>Six Worlds Yonder</b> Russell 75c</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> + +<tr><td>79975 <b>Technos</b></td></tr> +<tr><td><b>A Scatter of Stardust</b> Tubb 95c</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 2em;"><i>Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon</i>.</p> + +<div class="box"> +<p> +<b>ace books</b>, (Dept. 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Delany</h3></td></tr> +<tr><td>04591 <b>Babel 17</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td>04722 <b>Ballad of Beta 2</b> 60c</td></tr> +<tr><td>19681 <b>Einstein Intersection</b> 75c</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 2em;"><i>Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon</i>.</p> + +<div class="box"> +<p> +<b>ace books</b>, (Dept. MM) Box 576, Times Square Station, +New York, N.Y. 10036<br /> +<br /> +Please send me titles checked above.<br /> +<br /> +I enclose $............Add 15¢ handling fee per copy.<br /> +Name.................................................<br /> +Address..............................................<br /> +City.................. State............. Zip........<br /> +<br /> +Please allow 4 weeks for delivery. 35<br /> +</p> +</div> +</div> + +<hr /> +<h1>FANGS OF THE WOLF WORLD</h1> + +<p>At one time Race Cargill had been the best Terran Intelligence agent on +the complex and mysterious planet of Wolf. He had repeatedly imperiled +his life amongst the half-human and non-human creatures of the sullen +world. And he had repeatedly accomplished the fantastic missions until +his name was emblazoned with glory.</p> + +<p>But that had all seemingly ended. For six long years he'd sat behind a +boring desk inside the fenced-in Terran Headquarters, cut off there ever +since he and a rival had scarred and ripped each other in blood-feud.</p> + +<p>But when THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE swung suddenly open, the feud was on +again—and with it a plot designed to check and destroy the Terran +Empire.</p> + + +<hr class="upper" /> +<p class="center">Turn this book over for<br /> +second complete novel</p> +<hr class="lower" /> + +<div class="note"> +<p class="center"><b>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</b></p> + +<p>Please hover your mouse over the words with a thin dotted gray line +underneath them for seeing what the original reads.</p> + +<p class="center">LIST OF FIXED ISSUES</p> + +p. 024—typo fixed: changed 'scared' into 'scarred'<br /> +p. 029—typo fixed: changed 'shiftcloak' into 'shirtcloak'<br /> +p. 030—typo fixed: changed 'dozen' into 'dozens'<br /> +p. 035—typo fixed: changed 'Kryal' into 'Kyral'<br /> +p. 045—typo fixed: changed 'miscroscope' into 'microscope'<br /> +p. 052—typo fixed: changed 'known' into 'know'<br /> +p. 076—typo fixed: changed 'even' into 'ever'<br /> +p. 078—removed an extra 'what'<br /> +p. 088—spelling normalized: changed 'shirt cloak' into 'shirtcloak'<br /> +p. 092—typo fixed: changed 'telling' into 'told'<br /> +p. 100—typo fixed: changed 'her' into 'my'<br /> +p. 101—typo fixed: changed 'thousand' into 'thousands'<br /> +p. 105—typo fixed: changed 'harsly' into 'harshly'<br /> +p. 108—typo fixed: changed 'has' into 'had'<br /> +p. 108—typo fixed: changed 'her' into 'his'<br /> +p. 109—removed an extra quote in front of 'I was afraid'<br /> +p. 111—typo fixed: changed 'stetched' into 'stretched' +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Door Through Space, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 19726-h.htm or 19726-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/7/2/19726/ + +Produced by Gregory D. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Door Through Space + +Author: Marion Zimmer Bradley + +Release Date: November 6, 2006 [EBook #19726] +[Last updated: August 19, 2011] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE *** + + + + +Produced by Gregory D. Weeks, Jason Isbell, Irma Spehar +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +=THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE= + +Marion Zimmer Bradley + + +ACE BOOKS +A Division of Charter Communications Inc. +1120 Avenue of the Americas +New York, N.Y. 10036 + + + + +THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE + +Copyright (c), 1961, by Ace Books, Inc. + +All Rights Reserved + + + + +... _across half a Galaxy, the Terran Empire maintains its sovereignty +with the consent of the governed. It is a peaceful reign, held by +compact and not by conquest. Again and again, when rebellion threatens +the Terran Peace, the natives of the rebellious world have turned +against their own people and sided with the men of Terra; not from fear, +but from a sense of dedication._ + +_There has never been open war. The battle for these worlds is fought in +the minds of a few men who stand between worlds; bound to one world by +interest, loyalties and allegiance; bound to the other by love._ + +_Such a world is Wolf. Such a man was Race Cargill of the Terran Secret +Service._ + + + * * * * * + +RENDEZVOUS ON A LOST WORLD +Copyright (c), 1961, by Ace Books, Inc. + +Printed in U.S.A. + + * * * * * + + +=Author's Note:--= + +I've always wanted to write. But not until I discovered the old pulp +science-fantasy magazines, at the age of sixteen, did this general +desire become a specific urge to write science-fantasy adventures. + +I took a lot of detours on the way. I discovered s-f in its golden age: +the age of Kuttner, C.L. Moore, Leigh Brackett, Ed Hamilton and Jack +Vance. But while I was still collecting rejection slips for my early +efforts, the fashion changed. Adventures on faraway worlds and strange +dimensions went out of fashion, and the new look in +science-fiction--emphasis on the _science_--came in. + +So my first stories were straight science-fiction, and I'm not trying to +put down that kind of story. It has its place. By and large, the kind of +science-fiction which makes tomorrow's headlines as near as this +morning's coffee, has enlarged popular awareness of the modern, +miraculous world of science we live in. It has helped generations of +young people feel at ease with a rapidly changing world. + +But fashions change, old loves return, and now that Sputniks clutter up +the sky with new and unfamiliar moons, the readers of science-fiction +are willing to wait for tomorrow to read tomorrow's headlines. Once +again, I think, there is a place, a wish, a need and hunger for the +wonder and color of the world way out. The world beyond the stars. The +world we _won't_ live to see. That is why I wrote THE DOOR THROUGH +SPACE. + +--MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY + + * * * * * + + + + +CHAPTER ONE + + +Beyond the spaceport gates, the men of the Kharsa were hunting down a +thief. I heard the shrill cries, the pad-padding of feet in strides just +a little too long and loping to be human, raising echoes all down the +dark and dusty streets leading up to the main square. + +But the square itself lay empty in the crimson noon of Wolf. Overhead +the dim red ember of Phi Coronis, Wolf's old and dying sun, gave out a +pale and heatless light. The pair of Spaceforce guards at the gates, +wearing the black leathers of the Terran Empire, shockers holstered at +their belts, were drowsing under the arched gateway where the +star-and-rocket emblem proclaimed the domain of Terra. One of them, a +snub-nosed youngster only a few weeks out from Earth, cocked an +inquisitive ear at the cries and scuffling feet, then jerked his head at +me. + +"Hey, Cargill, you can talk their lingo. What's going on out there?" + +I stepped out past the gateway to listen. There was still no one to be +seen in the square. It lay white and windswept, a barricade of +emptiness; to one side the spaceport and the white skyscraper of the +Terran Headquarters, and at the other side, the clutter of low +buildings, the street-shrine, the little spaceport cafe smelling of +coffee and _jaco_, and the dark opening mouths of streets that rambled +down into the Kharsa--the old town, the native quarter. But I was alone +in the square with the shrill cries--closer now, raising echoes from the +enclosing walls--and the loping of many feet down one of the dirty +streets. + +Then I saw him running, dodging, a hail of stones flying round his head; +someone or something small and cloaked and agile. Behind him the +still-faceless mob howled and threw stones. I could not yet understand +the cries; but they were out for blood, and I knew it. + +I said briefly, "Trouble coming," just before the mob spilled out into +the square. The fleeing dwarf stared about wildly for an instant, his +head jerking from side to side so rapidly that it was impossible to get +even a fleeting impression of his face--human or nonhuman, familiar or +bizarre. Then, like a pellet loosed from its sling, he made straight for +the gateway and safety. + +And behind him the loping mob yelled and howled and came pouring over +half the square. Just half. Then by that sudden intuition which +permeates even the most crazed mob with some semblance of reason, they +came to a ragged halt, heads turning from side to side. + +I stepped up on the lower step of the Headquarters building, and looked +them over. + +Most of them were _chaks_, the furred man-tall nonhumans of the Kharsa, +and not the better class. Their fur was unkempt, their tails naked with +filth and disease. Their leather aprons hung in tatters. One or two in +the crowd were humans, the dregs of the Kharsa. But the star-and-rocket +emblem blazoned across the spaceport gates sobered even the wildest +blood-lust somewhat; they milled and shifted uneasily in their half of +the square. + +For a moment I did not see where their quarry had gone. Then I saw him +crouched, not four feet from me, in a patch of shadow. Simultaneously +the mob saw him, huddled just beyond the gateway, and a howl of +frustration and rage went ringing round the square. Someone threw a +stone. It zipped over my head, narrowly missing me, and landed at the +feet of the black-leathered guard. He jerked his head up and gestured +with the shocker which had suddenly come unholstered. + +The gesture should have been enough. On Wolf, Terran law has been +written in blood and fire and exploding atoms; and the line is drawn +firm and clear. The men of Spaceforce do not interfere in the old town, +or in any of the native cities. But when violence steps over the +threshold, passing the blazon of the star and rocket, punishment is +swift and terrible. The threat should have been enough. + +Instead a howl of abuse went up from the crowd. + +"_Terranan!_" + +"Son of the Ape!" + +The Spaceforce guards were shoulder to shoulder behind me now. The +snub-nosed kid, looking slightly pale, called out. "Get inside the +gates, Cargill! If I have to shoot--" + +The older man motioned him to silence. "Wait. Cargill," he called. + +I nodded to show that I heard. + +"You talk their lingo. Tell them to haul off! Damned if I want to +shoot!" + +I stepped down and walked into the open square, across the crumbled +white stones, toward the ragged mob. Even with two armed Spaceforce men +at my back, it made my skin crawl, but I flung up my empty hand in token +of peace: + +"Take your mob out of the square," I shouted in the jargon of the +Kharsa. "This territory is held in compact of peace! Settle your +quarrels elsewhere!" + +There was a little stirring in the crowd. The shock of being addressed +in their own tongue, instead of the Terran Standard which the Empire has +forced on Wolf, held them silent for a minute. I had learned that long +ago: that speaking in any of the languages of Wolf would give me a +minute's advantage. + +But only a minute. Then one of the mob yelled, "We'll go if you give'm +to us! He's no right to Terran sanctuary!" + +I walked over to the huddled dwarf, miserably trying to make himself +smaller against the wall. I nudged him with my foot. + +"Get up. Who are you?" + +The hood fell away from his face as he twitched to his feet. He was +trembling violently. In the shadow of the hood I saw a furred face, a +quivering velvety muzzle, and great soft golden eyes which held +intelligence and terror. + +"What have you done? Can't you talk?" + +He held out the tray which he had shielded under his cloak, an ordinary +peddler's tray. "Toys. Sell toys. Children. You got'm?" + +I shook my head and pushed the creature away, with only a glance at the +array of delicately crafted manikins, tiny animals, prisms and crystal +whirligigs. "You'd better get out of here. Scram. Down that street." I +pointed. + +A voice from the crowd shouted again, and it had a very ugly sound. "He +is a spy of Nebran!" + +"_Nebran--_" The dwarfish nonhuman gabbled something then doubled +behind me. I saw him dodge, feint in the direction of the gates, then, +as the crowd surged that way, run for the street-shrine across the +square, slipping from recess to recess of the wall. A hail of stones +went flying in that direction. The little toy-seller dodged into the +street-shrine. + +Then there was a hoarse "Ah, aaah!" of terror, and the crowd edged away, +surged backward. The next minute it had begun to melt away, its entity +dissolving into separate creatures, slipping into the side alleys and +the dark streets that disgorged into the square. Within three minutes +the square lay empty again in the pale-crimson noon. + +The kid in black leather let his breath go and swore, slipping his +shocker into its holster. He stared and demanded profanely, "Where'd the +little fellow go?" + +"Who knows?" the other shrugged. "Probably sneaked into one of the +alleys. Did you see where he went, Cargill?" + +I came slowly back to the gateway. To me, it had seemed that he ducked +into the street-shrine and vanished into thin air, but I've lived on +Wolf long enough to know you can't trust your eyes here. I said so, and +the kid swore again, gulping, more upset than he wanted to admit. "Does +this kind of thing happen often?" + +"All the time," his companion assured him soberly, with a sidewise wink +at me. I didn't return the wink. + +The kid wouldn't let it drop. "Where did you learn their lingo, Mr. +Cargill?" + +"I've been on Wolf a long time," I said, spun on my heel and walked +toward Headquarters. I tried not to hear, but their voices followed me +anyhow, discreetly lowered, but not lowered enough. + +"Kid, don't you know who he is? That's Cargill of the Secret Service! +Six years ago he was the best man in Intelligence, before--" The voice +lowered another decibel, and then there was the kid's voice asking, +shaken, "But what the hell happened to his face?" + +I should have been used to it by now. I'd been hearing it, more or less +behind my back, for six years. Well, if my luck held, I'd never hear it +again. I strode up the white steps of the skyscraper, to finish the +arrangements that would take me away from Wolf forever. To the other end +of the Empire, to the other end of the galaxy--anywhere, so long as I +need not wear my past like a medallion around my neck, or blazoned and +branded on what was left of my ruined face. + + + + +CHAPTER TWO + + +The Terran Empire has set its blazon on four hundred planets circling +more than three hundred suns. But no matter what the color of the sun, +the number of moons overhead, or the geography of the planet, once you +step inside a Headquarters building, you are on Earth. And Earth would +be alien to many who called themselves Earthmen, judging by the +strangeness I always felt when I stepped into that marble-and-glass +world inside the skyscraper. I heard the sound of my steps ringing into +thin resonance along the marble corridor, and squinted my eyes, +readjusting them painfully to the cold yellowness of the lights. + +The Traffic Division was efficiency made insolent, in glass and chrome +and polished steel, mirrors and windows and looming electronic clerical +machines. Most of one wall was taken up by a TV monitor which gave a +view of the spaceport; a vast open space lighted with blue-white mercury +vapor lamps, and a chained-down skyscraper of a starship, littered over +with swarming ants. The process crew was getting the big ship ready for +skylift tomorrow morning. I gave it a second and then a third look. I'd +be on it when it lifted. + +Turning away from the monitored spaceport, I watched myself stride +forward in the mirrored surfaces that were everywhere; a tall man, a +lean man, bleached out by years under a red sun, and deeply scarred on +both cheeks and around the mouth. Even after six years behind a desk, my +neat business clothes--suitable for an Earthman with a desk job--didn't +fit quite right, and I still rose unconsciously on the balls of my feet, +approximating the lean stooping walk of a Dry-towner from the Coronis +plains. + +The clerk behind the sign marked TRANSPORTATION was a little rabbit of a +man with a sunlamp tan, barricaded by a small-sized spaceport of desk, +and looking as if he liked being shut up there. He looked up in civil +inquiry. + +"Can I do something for you?" + +"My name's Cargill. Have you a pass for me?" + +He stared. A free pass aboard a starship is rare except for professional +spacemen, which I obviously wasn't. "Let me check my records," he +hedged, and punched scanning buttons on the glassy surface. Shadows came +and went, and I saw myself half-reflected, a tipsy shadow in a flurry of +racing colors. The pattern finally stabilized and the clerk read off +names. + +"Brill, Cameron ... ah, yes. Cargill, Race Andrew, Department 38, +transfer transportation. Is that you?" + +I admitted it and he started punching more buttons when the sound of the +name made connection in whatever desk-clerks use for a brain. He stopped +with his hand halfway to the button. + +"Are you Race Cargill of the Secret Service, sir? _The_ Race Cargill?" + +"It's right there," I said, gesturing wearily at the projected pattern +under the glassy surface. + +"Why, I thought--I mean, everybody took it for granted--that is, I +heard--" + +"You thought Cargill had been killed a long time ago because his name +never turned up in news dispatches any more?" I grinned sourly, seeing +my image dissolve in blurring shadows, and feeling the long-healed scar +on my mouth draw up to make the grin hideous. "I'm Cargill, all right. +I've been up on Floor 38 for six years, holding down a desk any clerk +could handle. You for instance." + +He gaped. He was a rabbit of a man who had never stepped out of the safe +familiar boundaries of the Terran Trade City. "You mean _you're_ the man +who went to Charin in disguise, and routed out The Lisse? The man who +scouted the Black Ridge and Shainsa? And you've been working at a desk +upstairs all these years? It's--hard to believe, sir." + +My mouth twitched. It had been hard for me to believe while I was doing +it. "The pass?" + +"Right away, sir." He punched buttons and a printed chip of plastic +extruded from a slot on the desk top. "Your fingerprint, please?" He +pressed my finger into the still-soft surface of the plastic, indelibly +recording the print; waited a moment for it to harden, then laid the +chip in the slot of a pneumatic tube. I heard it whoosh away. + +"They'll check your fingerprint against that when you board the ship. +Skylift isn't till dawn, but you can go aboard as soon as the process +crew finishes with her." He glanced at the monitor screen, where the +swarming crew were still doing inexplicable things to the immobile +spacecraft. "It will be another hour or two. Where are you going, Mr. +Cargill?" + +"Some planet in the Hyades Cluster. Vainwal, I think, something like +that." + +"What's it like there?" + +"How should I know?" I'd never been there either. I only knew that +Vainwal had a red sun, and that the Terran Legate could use a trained +Intelligence officer. And _not_ pin him down to a desk. + +There was respect, and even envy in the little man's voice. "Could +I--buy you a drink before you go aboard, Mr. Cargill?" + +"Thanks, but I have a few loose ends to tie up." I didn't, but I was +damned if I'd spend my last hour on Wolf under the eyes of a deskbound +rabbit who preferred his adventure safely secondhand. + +But after I'd left the office and the building, I almost wished I'd +taken him up on it. It would be at least an hour before I could board +the starship, with nothing to do but hash over old memories, better +forgotten. + +The sun was lower now. Phi Coronis is a dim star, a dying star, and once +past the crimson zenith of noon, its light slants into a long +pale-reddish twilight. Four of Wolf's five moons were clustered in a +pale bouquet overhead, mingling thin violet moonlight into the crimson +dusk. + +The shadows were blue and purple in the empty square as I walked across +the stones and stood looking down one of the side streets. + +A few steps, and I was in an untidy slum which might have been on +another world from the neat bright Trade City which lay west of the +spaceport. The Kharsa was alive and reeking with the sounds and smells +of human and half-human life. A naked child, diminutive and +golden-furred, darted between two of the chinked pebble-houses, and +disappeared, spilling fragile laughter like breaking glass. + +A little beast, half snake and half cat, crawled across a roof, spread +leathery wings, and flapped to the ground. The sour pungent reek of +incense from the open street-shrine made my nostrils twitch, and a +hulked form inside, not human, cast me a surly green glare as I passed. + +I turned, retracing my steps. There was no danger, of course, so close +to the Trade City. Even on such planets as Wolf, Terra's laws are +respected within earshot of their gates. But there had been rioting here +and in Charin during the last month. After the display of mob violence +this afternoon, a lone Terran, unarmed, might turn up as a solitary +corpse flung on the steps of the HQ building. + +There had been a time when I had walked alone from Shainsa to the Polar +Colony. I had known how to melt into this kind of night, shabby and +inconspicuous, a worn shirtcloak hunched round my shoulders, weaponless +except for the razor-sharp skean in the clasp of the cloak; walking on +the balls of my feet like a Dry-towner, not looking or sounding or +smelling like an Earthman. + +That rabbit in the Traffic office had stirred up things I'd be wiser to +forget. It had been six years; six years of slow death behind a desk, +since the day when Rakhal Sensar had left me a marked man; death-warrant +written on my scarred face anywhere outside the narrow confines of the +Terran law on Wolf. + +Rakhal Sensar--my fists clenched with the old impotent hate. _If I could +get my hands on him!_ + +It had been Rakhal who first led me through the byways of the Kharsa, +teaching me the jargon of a dozen tribes, the chirping call of the +Ya-men, the way of the catmen of the rain-forests, the argot of thieves +markets, the walk and step of the Dry-towners from Shainsa and Daillon +and Ardcarran--the parched cities of dusty, salt stone which spread out +in the bottoms of Wolf's vanished oceans. Rakhal was from Shainsa, +human, tall as an Earthman, weathered by salt and sun, and he had worked +for Terran Intelligence since we were boys. We had traveled all over our +world together, and found it good. + +And then, for some reason I had never known, it had come to an end. +Even now I was not wholly sure why he had erupted, that day, into +violence and a final explosion. Then he had disappeared, leaving me a +marked man. And a lonely one: Juli had gone with him. + +I strode the streets of the slum unseeing, my thoughts running a +familiar channel. Juli, my kid sister, clinging around Rakhal's neck, +her gray eyes hating me. I had never seen her again. + +That had been six years ago. One more adventure had shown me that my +usefulness to the Secret Service was over. Rakhal had vanished, but he +had left me a legacy: my name, written on the sure scrolls of death +anywhere outside the safe boundaries of Terran law. A marked man, I had +gone back to slow stagnation behind a desk. I'd stood it as long as I +could. + +When it finally got too bad, Magnusson had been sympathetic. He was the +Chief of Terran Intelligence on Wolf, and I was next in line for his +job, but he understood when I quit. He'd arranged the transfer and the +pass, and I was leaving tonight. + +I was nearly back to the spaceport by now, across from the street-shrine +at the edge of the square. It was here that the little toy-seller had +vanished. But it was exactly like a thousand, a hundred thousand other +such street-shrines on Wolf, a smudge of incense reeking and stinking +before the squatting image of Nebran, the Toad God whose face and symbol +are everywhere on Wolf. I stared for a moment at the ugly idol, then +slowly moved away. + +The lighted curtains of the spaceport cafe attracted my attention and I +went inside. A few spaceport personnel in storm gear were drinking +coffee at the counter, a pair of furred _chaks_, lounging beneath the +mirrors at the far end, and a trio of Dry-towners, rangy, weathered men +in crimson and blue shirt cloaks, were standing at a wall shelf, eating +Terran food with aloof dignity. + +In my business clothes I felt more conspicuous than the _chaks_. What +place had a civilian here, between the uniforms of the spacemen and the +colorful brilliance of the Dry-towners? + +A snub-nosed girl with alabaster hair came to take my order. I asked for +_jaco_ and bunlets, and carried the food to a wall shelf near the +Dry-towners. Their dialect fell soft and familiar on my ears. One of +them, without altering the expression on his face or the easy tone of +his voice, began to make elaborate comments on my entrance, my +appearance, my ancestry and probably personal habits, all defined in the +colorfully obscene dialect of Shainsa. + +That had happened before. The Wolfan sense of humor is only half-human. +The finest joke is to criticize and insult a stranger, preferably an +Earthman, to his very face, in an unknown language, perfectly deadpan. +In my civilian clothes I was obviously fair game. + +A look or gesture of resentment would have lost face and dignity--what +the Dry-towners call their _kihar_--permanently. I leaned over and +remarked in their own dialect that I would, at some future and +unspecified time, appreciate the opportunity to return their +compliments. + +By rights they should have laughed, made some barbed remark about my +command of language and crossed their hands in symbol of a jest decently +reversed on themselves. Then we would have bought each other a drink, +and that would be that. + +But it didn't happen that way. Not this time. The tallest of the three +whirled, upsetting his drink in the process. I heard its thin shatter +through the squeal of the alabaster-haired girl, as a chair crashed +over. They faced me three abreast, and one of them fumbled in the clasp +of his shirtcloak. + +I edged backward, my own hand racing up for a skean I hadn't carried in +six years, and fronted them squarely, hoping I could face down the +prospect of a roughhouse. They wouldn't kill me, this close to the HQ, +but at least I was in for an unpleasant mauling. I couldn't handle three +men; and if nerves were this taut in the Kharsa, I might get knifed. +Quite by accident, of course. + +The _chaks_ moaned and gibbered. The Dry-towners glared at me and I +tensed for the moment when their steady stare would explode into +violence. + +Then I became aware that they were gazing, not at me, but at something +or someone behind me. The skeans snicked back into the clasps of their +cloaks. + +Then they broke rank, turned and ran. They _ran_, blundering into +stools, leaving havoc of upset benches and broken crockery in their +wake. One man barged into the counter, swore and ran on, limping. I let +my breath go. Something had put the fear of God into those brutes, and +it wasn't my own ugly mug. I turned and saw the girl. + +She was slight, with waving hair like spun black glass, circled with +faint tracery of stars. A black glass belt bound her narrow waist like +clasped hands, and her robe, stark white, bore an ugly embroidery across +the breasts, the flat sprawl of a conventionalized Toad God, Nebran. Her +features were delicate, chiseled, pale; a Dry-town face, all human, all +woman, but set in an alien and unearthly repose. The great eyes gleamed +red. They were fixed, almost unseeing, but the crimson lips were curved +with inhuman malice. + +She stood motionless, looking at me as if wondering why I had not run +with the others. In half a second, the smile flickered off and was +replaced by a startled look of--recognition? + +Whoever and whatever she was, she had saved me a mauling. I started to +phrase formal thanks, then broke off in astonishment. The cafe had +emptied and we were entirely alone. Even the _chaks_ had leaped through +an open window--I saw the whisk of a disappearing tail. + +We stood frozen, looking at one another while the Toad God sprawled +across her breasts rose and fell for half a dozen breaths. + +Then I took one step forward, and she took one step backward, at the +same instant. In one swift movement she was outside in the dark street. +It took me only an instant to get into the street after her, but as I +stepped across the door there was a little stirring in the air, like the +rising of heat waves across the salt flats at noon. Then the +street-shrine was empty, and nowhere was there any sign of the girl. She +had vanished. She simply was not there. + +I gaped at the empty shrine. She had stepped inside and vanished, like a +wraith of smoke, like-- + +--Like the little toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa. + +There were eyes in the street again and, becoming aware of where I was, +I moved away. The shrines of Nebran are on every corner of Wolf, but +this is one instance when familiarity does not breed contempt. The +street was dark and seemed empty, but it was packed with all the little +noises of living. I was not unobserved. And meddling with a +street-shrine would be just as dangerous as the skeans of my three +loud-mouthed Dry-town roughnecks. + +I turned and crossed the square for the last time, turning toward the +loom of the spaceship, filing the girl away as just another riddle of +Wolf I'd never solve. + +How wrong I was! + + + + +CHAPTER THREE + + +From the spaceport gates, exchanging brief greetings with the guards, I +took a last look at the Kharsa. For a minute I toyed with the notion of +just disappearing down one of those streets. It's not hard to disappear +on Wolf, if you know how. And I knew, or had known once. Loyalty to +Terra? What had Terra given me except a taste of color and adventure, +out there in the Dry-towns, and then taken it away again? + +If an Earthman is very lucky and very careful, he lasts about ten years +in Intelligence. I had had two years more than my share. I still knew +enough to leave my Terran identity behind like a worn-out jacket. I +could seek out Rakhal, settle our blood-feud, see Juli again.... + +How could I see Juli again? As her husband's murderer? No other way. +Blood-feud on Wolf is a terrible and elaborate ritual of the code +duello. And once I stepped outside the borders of Terran law, sooner or +later Rakhal and I would meet. And one of us would die. + +I looked back, just once, at the dark rambling streets away from the +square. Then I turned toward the blue-white lights that hurt my eyes, +and the starship that loomed, huge and hateful, before me. + +A steward in white took my fingerprint and led me to a coffin-sized +chamber. He brought me coffee and sandwiches--I hadn't, after all, eaten +in the spaceport cafe--then got me into the skyhook and strapped me, +deftly and firmly, into the acceleration cushions, tugging at the +Garensen belts until I ached all over. A long needle went into my +arm--the narcotic that would keep me safely drowsy all through the +terrible tug of interstellar acceleration. + +Doors clanged, buzzers vibrated lower down in the ship, men tramped the +corridors calling to one another in the language of the spaceports. I +understood one word in four. I shut my eyes, not caring. At the end of +the trip there would be another star, another world, another language. +Another life. + +I had spent all my adult life on Wolf. Juli had been a child under the +red star. But it was a pair of wide crimson eyes and black hair combed +into ringlets like spun black glass that went down with me into the +bottomless pit of sleep.... + + * * * * * + +Someone was shaking me. + +"Ah, come on, Cargill. Wake up, man. Shake your boots!" + +My mouth, foul-tasting and stiff, fumbled at the shapes of words. "Wha' +happened? Wha' y' want?" My eyes throbbed. When I got them open I saw +two men in black leathers bending over me. We were still inside gravity. + +"Get out of the skyhook. You're coming with us." + +"Wha'--" Even through the layers of the sedative, that got to me. Only a +criminal, under interstellar law, can be removed from a passage-paid +starship once he has formally checked in on board. I was legally, at +this moment, on my "planet of destination." + +"I haven't been charged--" + +"Did I say you had?" snapped one man. + +"Shut up, he's doped," the other said hurriedly. "Look," he continued, +pronouncing every word loudly and distinctly, "get up now, and come with +us. The co-ordinator will hold up blastoff if we don't get off in three +minutes, and Operations will scream. Come on, please." + +Then I was stumbling along the lighted, empty corridor, swaying between +the two men, foggily realizing the crew must think me a fugitive caught +trying to leave the planet. + +The locks dilated. A uniformed spaceman watched us, fussily regarding a +chronometer. He fretted. "The dispatcher's office--" + +"We're doing the best we can," the Spaceforce man said. "Can you walk, +Cargill?" + +I could, though my feet were a little shaky on the ladders. The violet +moonlight had deepened to mauve, and gusty winds spun tendrils of grit +across my face. The Spaceforce men shepherded me, one on either side, to +the gateway. + +"What the hell is all this? Is something wrong with my pass?" + +The guard shook his head. "How would I know? Magnusson put out the +order, take it up with him." + +"Believe me," I muttered, "I will." + +They looked at each other. "Hell," said one, "he's not under arrest, we +don't have to haul him around like a convict. Can you walk all right +now, Cargill? You know where the Secret Service office is, don't you? +Floor 38. The Chief wants you, and make it fast." + +I knew it made no sense to ask questions, they obviously knew no more +than I did. I asked anyhow. + +"Are they holding the ship for me? I'm supposed to be leaving on it." + +"Not that one," the guard answered, jerking his head toward the +spaceport. I looked back just in time to see the dust-dimmed ship leap +upward, briefly whitened in the field searchlights, and vanish into the +surging clouds above. + +My head was clearing fast, and anger speeded up the process. The HQ +building was empty in the chill silence of just before dawn. I had to +rout out a dozing elevator operator, and as the lift swooped upward my +anger rose with it. I wasn't working for Magnusson any more. What right +had he, or anybody, to grab me off an outbound starship like a criminal? +By the time I barged into his office, I was spoiling for a fight. + +The Secret Service office was full of grayish-pink morning and yellow +lights left on from the night before. Magnusson, at his desk, looked as +if he'd slept in his rumpled uniform. He was a big bull of a man, and +his littered desk looked, as always, like the track of a typhoon in the +salt flats. + +The clutter was weighted down, here and there, with solidopic cubes of +the five Magnusson youngsters, and as usual, Magnusson was fiddling with +one of the cubes. He said, not looking up, "Sorry to pull this at the +last minute, Race. There was just time to put out a pull order and get +you off the ship, but no time to explain." + +I glared at him. "Seems I can't even get off the planet without trouble! +You raised hell all the time I was here, but when I try to leave--what +is this, anyhow? I'm sick of being shoved around!" + +Magnusson made a conciliating gesture. "Wait until you hear--" he began, +and broke off, looking at someone who was sitting in the chair in front +of his desk, somebody whose back was turned to me. Then the person +twisted and I stopped cold, blinking and wondering if this were a +hallucination and I'd wake up in the starship's skyhook, far out in +space. + +Then the woman cried, "Race, _Race_! Don't you know me?" + +I took one dazed step and another. Then she flew across the space +between us, her thin arms tangling around my neck, and I caught her up, +still disbelieving. + +"_Juli!_" + +"Oh, Race, I thought I'd die when Mack told me you were leaving tonight. +It's been the only thing that's kept me alive, knowing--knowing I'd see +you." She sobbed and laughed, her face buried in my shoulder. + +I let her cry for a minute, then held my sister at arm's length. For a +moment I had forgotten the six years that lay between us. Now I saw +them, all of them, printed plain on her face. Juli had been a pretty +girl. Six years had fined her face into beauty, but there was tension in +the set of her shoulders, and her gray eyes had looked on horrors. + +She looked tiny and thin and unbearably frail under the scanty folds of +her fur robe, a Dry-town woman's robe. Her wrists were manacled, the +jeweled tight bracelets fastened together by the links of a long fine +chain of silvered gilt that clashed a little, thinly, as her hands fell +to her sides. + +"What's wrong, Juli? Where's Rakhal?" + +She shivered and now I could see that she was in a state of shock. + +"Gone. He's gone, that's all I know. And--oh, Race, Race, he took Rindy +with him!" + +From the tone of her voice I had thought she was sobbing. Now I realized +that her eyes were dry; she was long past tears. Gently I unclasped her +clenched fingers and put her back in the chair. She sat like a doll, her +hands falling to her sides with a thin clash of chains. When I picked +them up and laid them in her lap she let them lie there motionless. I +stood over her and demanded, "Who's Rindy?" She didn't move. + +"My daughter, Race. Our little girl." + +Magnusson broke in, his voice harsh. "Well, Cargill, should I have let +you leave?" + +"Don't be a damn fool!" + +"I was afraid you'd tell the poor kid she had to live with her own +mistakes," growled Magnusson. "You're capable of it." + +For the first time Juli showed a sign of animation. "I was afraid to +come to you, Mack. You never wanted me to marry Rakhal, either." + +"Water under the bridge," Magnusson grunted. "And I've got lads of my +own, Miss Cargill--Mrs.--" he stopped in distress, vaguely remembering +that in the Dry-towns an improper form of address can be a deadly +insult. + +But she guessed his predicament. + +"You used to call me Juli, Mack. It will do now." + +"You've changed," he said quietly. "Juli, then. Tell Race what you told +me. All of it." + +She turned to me. "I shouldn't have come for myself--" + +I knew that. Juli was proud, and she had always had the courage to live +with her own mistakes. When I first saw her, I knew this wouldn't be +anything so simple as the complaint of an abused wife or even an +abandoned or deserted mother. I took a chair, watching her and +listening. + +She began. "You made a mistake when you turned Rakhal out of the +Service, Mack. In his way he was the most loyal man you had on Wolf." + +Magnusson had evidently not expected her to take this tack. He scowled +and looked disconcerted, shifting uneasily in his big chair, but when +Juli did not continue, obviously awaiting his answer, he said, "Juli, he +left me no choice. I never knew how his mind worked. That final deal he +engineered--have you any idea how much that cost the Service? And have +you taken a good look at your brother's face, Juli girl?" + +Juli raised her eyes slowly, and I saw her flinch. I knew how she felt. +For three years I had kept my mirror covered, growing an untidy +straggle of beard because it hid the scars and saved me the ordeal of +facing myself to shave. + +Juli whispered, "Rakhal's is just as bad. Worse." + +"That's some satisfaction," I said, and Mack stared at us, baffled. +"Even now I don't know what it was all about." + +"And you never will," I said for the hundredth time. "We've been over +this before. Nobody could understand it unless he'd lived in the +Dry-towns. Let's not talk about it. You talk, Juli. What brought you +here like this? What about the kid?" + +"There's no way I can tell you the end without telling you the +beginning," she said reasonably. "At first Rakhal worked as a trader in +Shainsa." + +I wasn't surprised. The Dry-towns were the core of Terran trade on Wolf, +and it was through their cooperation that Terra existed here peaceably, +on a world only half human, or less. + +The men of the Dry-towns existed strangely poised between two worlds. +They had made dealings with the first Terran ships, and thus gave +entrance to the wedge of the Terran Empire. And yet they stood proud and +apart. They alone had never yielded to the Terranizing which overtakes +all Empire planets sooner or later. + +There were no Trade Cities in the Dry-towns; an Earthman who went there +unprotected faced a thousand deaths, each one worse than the last. There +were those who said that the men of Shainsa and Daillon and Ardcarran +had sold the rest of Wolf to the Terrans, to keep the Terrans from their +own door. + +Even Rakhal, who had worked with Terra since boyhood, had finally come +to a point of decision and gone his own way. And it was not Terra's way. + +That was what Juli was saying now. + +"He didn't like what Terra was doing on Wolf. I'm not so sure I like it +myself--" + +Magnusson interrupted her again. "Do you know what Wolf was like when we +came here? Have you seen the Slave Colony, the Idiot's Village? Your own +brother went to Shainsa and routed out The Lisse." + +"And Rakhal helped him!" Juli reminded him. "Even after he left you, he +tried to keep out of things. He could have told them a good deal that +would hurt you, after ten years in Intelligence, you know." + +I knew. It was, although I wasn't going to tell Juli this, one reason +why, at the end--during that terrible explosion of violence which no +normal Terran mind could comprehend--I had done my best to kill him. We +had both known that after this, the planet would not hold the two of us. +We could both go on living only by dividing it unevenly. I had been +given the slow death of the Terran Zone. And he had all the rest. + +"But he never told them anything! I tell you, he was one of the most +loyal--" + +Mack grunted, "Yeah, he's an angel. Go ahead." + +She didn't, not immediately. Instead she asked what sounded like an +irrelevant question. "Is it true what he told me? That the Empire has a +standing offer of a reward for a working model of a matter transmitter?" + +"That offer's been standing for three hundred years, Terran reckoning. +One million credits cash. Don't tell me he was figuring to invent one?" + +"I don't think so. But I think he heard rumors about one. He said with +that kind of money he could bargain the Terrans right out of Shainsa. +That was where it started. He began coming and going at odd times, but +he never said any more about it. He wouldn't talk to me at all." + +"When was all this?" + +"About four months ago." + +"In other words, just about the time of the riots in Charin." + +She nodded. "Yes. He was away in Charin when the Ghost Wind blew, and he +came back with knife cuts in his thigh. I asked if he had been mixed-up +in the anti-Terran rioting, but he wouldn't tell me. Race, I don't know +anything about politics. I don't really care. But just about that time, +the Great House in Shainsa changed hands. I'm sure Rakhal had something +to do with that. + +"And then--" Juli twisted her chained hands together in her lap--"he +tried to mix Rindy up in it. It was crazy, awful! He'd brought her some +sort of nonhuman toy from one of the lowland towns, Charin I think. It +was a weird thing, scared me. But he'd sit Rindy down in the sunlight +and have her look into it, and Rindy would gabble all sorts of nonsense +about little men and birds and a toymaker." + +The chains about Juli's wrists clashed as she twisted her hands +together. I stared somberly at the fetters. The chain, which was long, +did not really hamper her movements much. Such chains were symbolic +ornaments, and most Dry-town women went all their lives with fettered +hands. But even after the years I'd spent in the Dry-towns, the sight +still brought an uneasiness to my throat, a vague discomfort. + +"We had a terrible fight over that," Juli went on. "I was afraid, afraid +of what it was doing to Rindy. I threw it out, and Rindy woke up and +screamed--" Juli checked herself and caught at vanishing self-control. + +"But you don't want to hear about that. It was then I threatened to +leave him and take Rindy. The next day--" Suddenly the hysteria Juli had +been forcing back broke free, and she rocked back and forth in her +chair, shaken and strangled with sobs. "He took Rindy! Oh, Race, he's +crazy, crazy. I think he hates Rindy, he--he, Race, _he smashed her +toys_. He took every toy the child had and broke them one by one, +smashed them into powder, every toy the child had--" + +"Juli, please, please," Magnusson pleaded, shaken. "If we're dealing +with a maniac--" + +"I don't dare think he'd harm her! He warned me not to come here, or I'd +never see her again, but if it meant war against Terra I had to come. +But Mack, please, don't do anything against him, please, please. He's +got my baby, he's got my little girl...." Her voice failed and she +buried her face in her hands. + +Mack picked up the solidopic cube of his five-year-old son, and turned +it between his pudgy fingers, saying unhappily, "Juli, we'll take every +precaution. But can't you see, we've got to get him? If there's a +question of a matter transmitter, or anything like that, in the hands of +Terra's enemies--" + +I could see that, too, but Juli's agonized face came between me and the +picture of disaster. I clenched my fist around the chair arm, not +surprised to see the fragile plastic buckle, crack and split under my +grip. _If it had been Rakhal's neck...._ + +"Mack, let me handle this. Juli, shall I find Rindy for you?" + +A hope was born in her ravaged face, and died, while I looked. "Race, +he'd kill you. Or have you killed." + +"He'd try," I admitted. The moment Rakhal knew I was outside the Terran +zone, I'd walk with death. I had accepted the code during my years in +Shainsa. But now I was an Earthman and felt only contempt. + +"Can't you see? Once he knows I'm at large, that very code of his will +force him to abandon any intrigue, whatever you call it, conspiracy, and +come after me first. That way we do two things: we get him out of +hiding, and we get him out of the conspiracy, if there is one." + +I looked at the shaking Juli and something snapped. I stooped and lifted +her, not gently, my hands biting her shoulders. "And I won't kill him, +do you hear? He may wish I had; by the time I get through with him--I'll +beat the living hell out of him; I'll cram my fists down his throat. But +I'll settle it with him like an Earthman. I won't kill him. _Hear me, +Juli?_ Because that's the worst thing I could do to him--catch him and +let him live afterward!" + +Magnusson stepped toward me and pried my crushing hands off her arms. +Juli rubbed the bruises mechanically, not knowing she was doing it. Mack +said, "You can't do it, Cargill. You wouldn't get as far as Daillon. You +haven't been out of the zone in six years. Besides--" + +His eyes rested full on my face. "I hate to say this, Race, but damn it, +man, go and take a good look at yourself in a mirror. Do you think I'd +ever have pulled you off the Secret Service otherwise? How in hell can +you disguise yourself now?" + +"There are plenty of scarred men in the Dry-towns," I said. "Rakhal will +remember my scars, but I don't think anyone else would look twice." + +Magnusson walked to the window. His huge form bulked against the light, +perceptibly darkening the office. He looked over the faraway panorama, +the neat bright Trade City below and the vast wilderness lying outside. +I could almost hear the wheels grinding in his head. Finally he swung +around. + +"Race, I've heard these rumors before. But you're the only man I could +have sent to track them down, and I wouldn't send you out in cold blood +to be killed. I won't now. Spaceforce will pick him up." + +I heard the harsh inward gasp of Juli's breath and said, "Damn it, no. +The first move you make--" I couldn't finish. Rindy was in his hands, +and when I knew Rakhal, he hadn't been given to making idle threats. We +all three knew what Rakhal might do at the first hint of the long arm of +Terran law reaching out for him. + +I said, "For God's sake let's keep Spaceforce out of it. Let it look +like a personal matter between Rakhal and me, and let us settle it on +those terms. Remember he's got the kid." + +Magnusson sighed. Again he picked up one of the cubes and stared into +the clear plastic, where the three-dimensional image of a nine-year-old +girl looked out at him, smiling and innocent. His face was transparent +as the plastic cube. Mack acts tough, but he has five kids and he is as +soft as a dish of pudding where a kid is concerned. + +"I know. Another thing, too. If we send out Spaceforce, after all the +riots--how many Terrans are on this planet? A few thousand, no more. +What chance would we have, if it turned into a full-scale rebellion? +None at all, unless we wanted to order a massacre. Sure, we have bombs +and dis-guns and all that. + +"But would we dare to use them? And where would we be after that? We're +here to keep the pot from boiling over, to keep out of planetary +incidents, not push them along to a point where bluff won't work. That's +why we've got to pick up Rakhal before this gets out of hand." + +I said, "Give me a month. Then you can move in, if you have to. Rakhal +can't do much against Terra in that time. And I might be able to keep +Rindy out of it." + +Magnusson stared at me, hard-eyed. "If you do this against my advice, I +won't be able to step in and pull you out of a jam later on, you know. +And God help you if you start up the machines and can't stop them." + +I knew that. A month wasn't much. Wolf is forty thousand miles of +diameter, at least half unexplored; mountain and forest swarming with +nonhuman and semi-human cities where Terrans had never been. + +Finding Rakhal, or any one man, would be like picking out one star in +the Andromeda nebula. Not impossible. Not _quite_ impossible. + +Mack's eyes wandered again to his child's face, deep in the transparent +cube. He turned it in his hands. "Okay, Cargill," he said slowly, "so +we're all crazy. I'll be crazy too. Try it your way." + + + + +CHAPTER FOUR + + +By sunset I was ready to leave. I hadn't had any loose ends to tie up in +the Trade City, since I'd already disposed of most of my gear before +boarding the starship. I'd never been in better circumstances to take +off for parts unknown. + +Mack, still disapproving, had opened the files to me, and I'd spent most +of the day in the back rooms of Floor 38, searching Intelligence files +to refresh my memory, scanning the pages of my own old reports sent +years ago from Shainsa and Daillon. He had sent out one of the nonhumans +who worked for us, to buy or acquire somewhere in the Old Town a +Dry-towner's outfit and the other things I would wear and carry. + +I would have liked to go myself. I felt that I needed the practice. I +was only now beginning to realize how much I might have forgotten in the +years behind a desk. But until I was ready to make my presence known, no +one must know that Race Cargill had not left Wolf on the starship. + +Above all, I must not be seen in the Kharsa until I went there in the +Dry-town disguise which had become, years ago, a deep second nature, +almost an alternate personality. + +About sunset I walked through the clean little streets of the Terran +Trade City toward the Magnusson home where Juli was waiting for me. + +Most of the men who go into Civil Service of the Empire come from Earth, +or from the close-in planets of Proxima and Alpha Centaurus. They go out +unmarried, and they stay that way, or marry women native to the planets +where they are sent. + +But Joanna Magnusson was one of the rare Earth women who had come out +with her husband, twenty years ago. There are two kinds of Earthwomen +like that. They make their quarterings a little bit of home, or a little +bit of hell. Joanna had made their house look like a transported corner +of Earth. + +I never knew quite what to think of the Magnusson household. It seemed +to me almost madness to live under a red sun, yet come inside to yellow +light, to live on a world with the wild beauty of Wolf and yet live as +they might have lived on their home planet. Or maybe I was the one who +was out of step. I had done the reprehensible thing they called "going +native." Possibly I had done just that, and in absorbing myself into the +new world, had lost the ability to fit into the old. + +Joanna, a chubby comfortable woman in her forties, opened the door and +gave me her hand. "Come in, Race. Juli's expecting you." + +"It's good of you." I broke off, unable to express my gratitude. Juli +and I had come from Earth--our father had been an officer on the old +starship _Landfall_ when Juli was only a child. He had died in a wreck +off Procyon, and Mack Magnusson had found me a place in Intelligence +because I spoke four of the Wolf languages and haunted the Kharsa with +Rakhal whenever I could get away. + +They had also taken Juli into their own home, like a younger sister. +They hadn't said much--because they had liked Rakhal--when the breakup +came. But that terrible night when Rakhal and I nearly killed each +other, and Rakhal came with his face bleeding and took Juli away with +him, had hurt them hard. Yet it had made them all the kinder to me. + +Joanna said forthrightly, "Nonsense, Race! What else could we do?" She +drew me along the hall. "You can talk in here." + +I delayed a minute before going through the door she indicated. "How is +Juli?" + +"Better, I think. I put her to bed in Meta's room, and she slept most of +the day. She'll be all right. I'll leave you to talk." Joanna opened the +door, and went away. + +Juli was awake and dressed, and already some of the terrible frozen +horror was gone from her face. She was still tense and devil-ridden, but +not hysterical now. + +The room, one of the children's bedrooms, wasn't a big one. Even at the +top of the Secret Service, a cop doesn't live too well. Not on Terra's +Civil Service pay scale. Not, with five youngsters. It looked as if all +five of the kids had taken it to pieces, one at a time. + +I sat down on a too-low chair and said, "Juli, we haven't much time, +I've got to be out of the city before dark. I want to know about Rakhal, +what he does, what he's like now. Remember, I haven't seen him for +years. Tell me everything--his friends, his amusements, everything you +know." + +"I always thought you knew him better than I did." Juli had a fidgety +little way of coiling the links of the chain around her wrists and it +made me nervous. + +"It's routine, Juli. Police work. Mostly I play by ear, but I try to +start out by being methodical." + +She answered everything I asked her, but the sum total wasn't much and +it wouldn't help much. As I said, it's easy to disappear on Wolf. Juli +knew he had been friendly with the new holders of the Great House on +Shainsa, but she didn't even know their name. + +I heard one of the Magnusson children fly to the street door and return, +shouting for her mother. Joanna knocked at the door of the room and came +in. + +"There's a _chak_ outside who wants to see you, Race." + +I nodded. "Probably my fancy dress. Can I change in the back room, +Joanna? Will you keep my clothes here till I get back?" + +I went to the door and spoke to the furred nonhuman in the sibilant +jargon of the Kharsa and he handed me what looked like a bundle of rags. +There were hard lumps inside. The _chak_ said softly, "I hear a rumor in +the Kharsa, _Raiss_. Perhaps it will help you. Three men from Shainsa +are in the city. They came here to seek a woman who has vanished, and a +toymaker. They are returning at sunrise. Perhaps you can arrange to +travel in their caravan." + +I thanked him and carried the bundle inside. In the empty back room I +stripped to the skin and unrolled the bundle. There was a pair of baggy +striped breeches, a worn and shabby shirtcloak with capacious pockets, a +looped belt with half the gilt rubbed away and the base metal showing +through, and a scuffed pair of ankle-boots tied with frayed thongs of +different colors. There was a little cluster of amulets and seals. I +chose two or three of the commonest kind, and strung them around my +neck. + +One of the lumps in the bundle was a small jar, holding nothing but the +ordinary spices sold in the market, with which the average Dry-towner +flavors food. I rubbed some of the powder on my body, put a pinch in the +pocket of my shirtcloak, and chewed a few of the buds, wrinkling my nose +at the long-unfamiliar pungency. + +The second lump was a skean, and unlike the worn and shabby garments, +this was brand-new and sharp and bright, and its edge held a razor +glint. I tucked it into the clasp of my shirtcloak, a reassuring weight. +It was the only weapon I could dare to carry. + +The last of the solid objects in the bundle was a flat wooden case, +about nine by ten inches. I slid it open. It was divided carefully into +sections cushioned with sponge-absorbent plastic, and in them lay tiny +slips of glass, on Wolf as precious as jewels. They were lenses--camera +lenses, microscope lenses, even eyeglass lenses. Packed close, there +were nearly a hundred of them nested by the shock-absorbent stuff. + +They were my excuse for travel to Shainsa. Over and above the +necessities of trade, a few items of Terran manufacture--vacuum tubes, +transistors, lenses for cameras and binoculars, liquors and finely +forged small tools--are literally worth their weight in platinum. + +Even in cities where Terrans have never gone, these things bring +exorbitant prices, and trading in them is a Dry-town privilege. Rakhal +had been a trader, so Juli told me, in fine wire and surgical +instruments. Wolf is not a mechanized planet, and has never developed +any indigenous industrial system; the psychology of the nonhuman seldom +runs to technological advances. + +I went down the hallway again to the room where Juli was waiting. +Catching a glimpse in a full-length mirror, I was startled. All traces +of the Terran civil servant, clumsy and uncomfortable in his ill-fitting +clothes, had dropped away. A Dry-towner, rangy and scarred, looked out +at me, and it seemed that the expression on his face was one of +amazement. + +Joanna whirled as I came into the room and visibly paled before, +recovering her self-control, she gave a nervous little giggle. +"Goodness, Race, I didn't know you!" + +Juli whispered, "Yes, I--I remember you better like that. You're--you +look so much like--" + +The door flew open and Mickey Magnusson scampered into the room, a +chubby little boy browned by a Terra-type sunlamp and glowing with +health. In his hand he held some sparkling thing that gave off tiny +flashes and glints of color. + +I gave the kid a grin before I realized that I was disguised anyhow and +probably a hideous sight. The little boy backed off, but Joanna put her +plump hand on his shoulder, murmuring soothing things. + +Mickey toddled toward Juli, holding up the shining thing in his hands as +if to display something very precious and beloved. Juli bent and held +out her arms, then her face contracted and she snatched at the +plaything. + +"Mickey, what's that?" + +He thrust it protectively behind his back. "Mine!" + +"Mickey, don't be naughty," Joanna chided. + +"Please let me see," Juli coaxed, and he brought it out, slowly, still +suspicious. It was an angled prism of crystal, star-shaped, set in a +frame which could get the star spinning like a solidopic. But it +displayed a new and comical face every time it was turned. + +Mickey turned it round and round, charmed at being the center of +attention. There seemed to be dozens of faces, shifting with each spin +of the prism, human and nonhuman, all dim and slightly distorted. My own +face, Juli's, Joanna's came out of the crystal surface, not a reflection +but a caricature. + +A choked sound from Juli made me turn in dismay. She had let herself +drop to the floor and was sitting there, white as death, supporting +herself with her two hands. + +"Race! Find out where he got that--that _thing_!" + +I bent and shook her. "What's the matter with you?" I demanded. She had +lapsed into the dazed, sleepwalking horror of this morning. She +whispered, "It's not a toy. Rindy had one. Joanna, _where did he get +it_?" She pointed at the shining thing with an expression of horror +which would have been laughable had it been less real, less filled with +terror. + +Joanna cocked her head to one side and wrinkled her forehead, +reflectively. "Why, I don't know, now you come to ask me. I thought +maybe one of the _chaks_ had given it to Mickey. Bought it in the +bazaar, maybe. He loves it. Do get up off the floor, Juli!" + +Juli scrambled to her feet. She said, "Rindy had one. It--it terrified +me. She would sit and look at it by the hour, and--I told you about it, +Race. I threw it out once, and she woke up and screamed. She shrieked +for hours and hours and she ran out in the dark and dug for it in the +trash pile, where I'd buried it. She went out in the dark, broke all her +fingernails, but she dug it out again." She checked herself, staring at +Joanna, her eyes wide in appeal. + +"Well, dear," said Joanna with mild, rebuking kindness, "you needn't be +so upset. I don't think Mickey's so attached to it as all that, and +anyhow I'm not going to throw it away." She patted Juli reassuringly on +the shoulder, then gave Mickey a little shove toward the door and turned +to follow him. "You'll want to talk alone before Race leaves. Good luck, +wherever you're going, Race." She held out her hand forthrightly. + +"And don't worry about Juli," she added in an undertone. "We'll take +good care of her." + +When I came back to Juli she was standing by the window, looking through +the oddly filtered glass that dimmed the red sun to orange. "Joanna +thinks I'm crazy, Race." + +"She thinks you're upset." + +"Rindy's an odd child, a real Dry-towner. But it's not my imagination, +Race, it's not. There's something--" Suddenly she sobbed aloud again. + +"Homesick, Juli?" + +"I was, a little, the first years. But I was happy, believe me." She +turned her face to me, shining with tears. "You've got to believe I +never regretted it for a minute." + +"I'm glad," I said dully. _That made it just fine._ + +"Only that toy--" + +"Who knows? It might be a clue to something." The toy had reminded me of +something, too, and I tried to remember what it was. I'd seen nonhuman +toys in the Kharsa, even bought them for Mack's kids. When a single man +is invited frequently to a home with five youngsters, it's about the +only way he can repay that hospitality, by bringing the children odd +trifles and knicknacks. But I had never seen anything quite like this +one, until-- + +--Until yesterday. The toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa, the +one who had fled into the shrine of Nebran and vanished. He had had half +a dozen of those prism-and-star sparklers. + +I tried to call up a mental picture of the little toy-seller. I didn't +have much luck. I'd seen him only in that one swift glance from beneath +his hood. "Juli, have you ever seen a little man, like a _chak_ only +smaller, twisted, hunchbacked? He sells toys--" + +She looked blank. "I don't think so, although there are dwarf _chaks_ in +the Polar Cities. But I'm sure I've never seen one." + +"It was just an idea." But it was something to think about. A toy-seller +had vanished. Rakhal, before disappearing, had smashed all Rindy's toys. +And the sight of a plaything of cunningly-cut crystal had sent Juli into +hysterics. + +"I'd better go before it's too dark," I said. I buckled the final clasp +of my shirtcloak, fitted my skean another notch into it, and counted the +money Mack had advanced me for expenses. "I want to get into the Kharsa +and hunt up the caravan to Shainsa." + +"You're going there first?" + +"Where else?" + +Juli turned, leaning one hand against the wall. She looked frail and +ill, years older than she was. Suddenly she flung her thin arms around +me, and a link of the chain on her fettered hands struck me hard, as she +cried out, "Race, Race, he'll kill you! How can I live with that on my +conscience too?" + +"You can live with a hell of a lot on your conscience." I disengaged her +arms firmly from my neck. A link of the chain caught on the clasp of my +shirtcloak, and again something snapped inside me. I grasped the chain +in my two hands and gave a mighty heave, bracing my foot against the +wall. The links snapped asunder. A flying end struck Juli under the eye. +I ripped at the seals of the jeweled cuffs, tore them from her arms, +find threw the whole assembly into a corner, where it fell with a +clash. + +"Damn it," I roared, "that's over! You're never going to wear _those_ +things again!" Maybe after six years in the Dry-towns, Juli was +beginning to guess what those six years behind a desk had meant to me. + +"Juli, I'll find your Rindy for you, and I'll bring Rakhal in alive. But +don't ask more than that. Just _alive_. And don't ask me how." + +He'd be alive when I got through with him. Sure, he'd be alive. + +Just. + + + + +CHAPTER FIVE + + +It was getting dark when I slipped through a side gate, shabby and +inconspicuous, into the spaceport square. Beyond the yellow lamps, I +knew that the old city was beginning to take on life with the falling +night. Out of the chinked pebble-houses, men and woman, human and +nonhuman, came forth into the moonlit streets. + +If anyone noticed me cross the square, which I doubted, they took me for +just another Dry-town vagabond, curious about the world of the strangers +from beyond the stars, and who, curiosity satisfied, was drifting back +where he belonged. I turned down one of the dark alleys that led away, +and soon was walking in the dark. + +The Kharsa was not unfamiliar to me as a Terran, but for the last six +years I had seen only its daytime face. I doubted if there were a dozen +Earthmen in the Old Town tonight, though I saw one in the bazaar, dirty +and lurching drunk; one of those who run renegade and homeless between +worlds, belonging to neither. This was what I had nearly become. + +I went further up the hill with the rising streets. Once I turned, and +saw below me the bright-lighted spaceport, the black many-windowed loom +of the skyscraper like a patch of alien shadow in the red-violet +moonlight. I turned my back on them and walked on. + +At the fringe of the thieves market I paused outside a wineshop where +Dry-towners were made welcome. A golden nonhuman child murmured +something as she pattered by me in the street, and I stopped, gripped by +a spasm of stagefright. Had the dialect of Shainsa grown rusty on my +tongue? Spies were given short shrift on Wolf, and a mile from the +spaceport, I might as well have been on one of those moons. There were +no spaceport shockers at my back now. And someone might remember the +tale of an Earthman with a scarred face who had gone to Shainsa in +disguise.... + +I shrugged the shirtcloak around my shoulders, pushed the door and went +in. I had remembered that Rakhal was waiting for me. Not beyond this +door, but at the end of the trail, behind some other door, somewhere. +And we have a byword in Shainsa: _A trail without beginning has no end_. + +Right there I stopped thinking about Juli, Rindy, the Terran Empire, or +what Rakhal, who knew too many of Terra's secrets, might do if he had +turned renegade. My fingers went up and stroked, musingly, the ridge of +scar tissue along my mouth. At that moment I was thinking only of +Rakhal, of an unsettled blood-feud, and of my revenge. + +Red lamps were burning inside the wineshop, where men reclined on frowsy +couches. I stumbled over one of them, found an empty place and let +myself sink down on it, arranging myself automatically in the sprawl of +Dry-towners indoors. In public they stood, rigid and formal, even to eat +and drink. Among themselves, anything less than a loose-limbed sprawl +betrayed insulting watchfulness; only a man who fears secret murder +keeps himself on guard. + +A girl with a tangled rope of hair down her back came toward me. Her +hands were unchained, meaning she was a woman of the lowest class, not +worth safeguarding. Her fur smock was shabby and matted with filth. I +sent her for wine. When it came it was surprisingly good, the sweet and +treacherous wine of Ardcarran. I sipped it slowly, looking round. + +If a caravan for Shainsa were leaving tomorrow, it would be known here. +A word dropped that I was returning there would bring me, by ironbound +custom, an invitation to travel in their company. + +When I sent the woman for wine a second time, a man on a nearby couch +got up, and walked over to me. + +He was tall even for a Dry-towner, and there was something vaguely +familiar about him. He was no riffraff of the Kharsa, either, for his +shirtcloak was of rich silk interwoven with metallic threads, and +crusted with heavy embroideries. The hilt of his skean was carved from a +single green gem. He stood looking down at me for some time before he +spoke. + +"I never forget a voice, although I cannot bring your face to mind. Have +I a duty toward you?" + +I had spoken a jargon to the girl, but he addressed me in the lilting, +sing-song speech of Shainsa. I made no answer, gesturing him to be +seated. On Wolf, formal courtesy requires a series of polite _non +sequiturs_, and while a direct question merely borders on rudeness, a +direct answer is the mark of a simpleton. + +"A drink?" + +"I joined you unasked," he retorted, and summoned the tangle-headed +girl. "Bring us better wine than this swill!" + +With that word and gesture I recognized him and my teeth clamped hard on +my lip. This was the loudmouth who had shown fight in the spaceport +cafe, and run away before the dark girl with the sign of Nebran sprawled +on her breast. + +But in this poor light he had not recognized me. I moved deliberately +into the full red glow. If he did not know me for the Terran he had +challenged last night in the spaceport cafe, it was unlikely that anyone +else would. He stared at me for some minutes, but in the end he only +shrugged and poured wine from the bottle he had ordered. + +Three drinks later I knew that his name was Kyral and that he was a +trader in wire and fine steel tools through the nonhuman towns. And I +had given him the name I had chosen, Rascar. + +He asked, "Are you thinking of returning to Shainsa?" + +Wary of a trap, I hesitated, but the question seemed harmless, so I only +countered, "Have you been long in the Kharsa?" + +"Several weeks." + +"Trading?" + +"No." He applied himself to the wine again. "I was searching for a +member of my family." + +"Did you find him?" + +"Her," said Kyral, and ceremoniously spat. "No, I didn't find her. What +is your business in Shainsa?" + +I chuckled briefly. "As a matter of fact, I am searching for a member of +my family." + +He narrowed his eyelids as if he suspected me of mocking him, but +personal privacy is the most rigid convention of the Dry-towns and such +mockery showed a sensible disregard for prying questions if I did not +choose to answer them. He questioned no further. + +"I can use an extra man to handle the loads. Are you good with pack +animals? If so, you are welcome to travel under the protection of my +caravan." + +I agreed. Then, reflecting that Juli and Rakhal must, after all, be +known in Shainsa, I asked, "Do you know a trader who calls himself +Sensar?" + +He started slightly; I saw his eyes move along my scars. Then reserve, +like a lowered curtain, shut itself over his face, concealing a brief +satisfied glimmer. "No," he lied, and stood up. + +"We leave at first daylight. Have your gear ready." He flipped something +at me, and I caught it in midair. It was a stone incised with Kyral's +name in the ideographs of Shainsa. "You can sleep with the caravan if +you care to. Show that token to Cuinn." + + * * * * * + +Kyral's caravan was encamped in a barred field past the furthest gates +of the Kharsa. About a dozen men were busy loading the pack +animals--horses shipped in from Darkover, mostly. I asked the first man +I met for Cuinn. He pointed out a burly fellow in a shiny red +shirtcloak, who was busy at chewing out one of the young men for the way +he'd put a packsaddle on his beast. + +Shainsa is a good language for cursing, but Cuinn had a special talent +at it. I blinked in admiration while I waited for him to get his breath +so I could hand him Kyral's token. + +In the light of the fire I saw what I'd half expected: he was the second +of the Dry-towners who'd tried to rough me up in the spaceport cafe. +Cuinn barely glanced at the cut stone and tossed it back, pointing out +one of the packhorses. "Load your personal gear on that one, then get +busy and show this mush-headed wearer of sandals"--an insult carrying +particularly filthy implications in Shainsa--"how to fasten a +packstrap." + +He drew breath and began to swear at the luckless youngster again, and I +relaxed. He evidently hadn't recognized me, either. I took the strap in +my hand, guiding it through the saddle loop. "Like that," I told the +kid, and Cuinn stopped swearing long enough to give me a curt nod of +acknowledgment and point out a heap of boxed and crated objects. + +"Help him load up. We want to get clear of the city by daybreak," he +ordered, and went off to swear at someone else. + +Kyral turned up at dawn, and a few minutes later the camp had vanished +into a small scattering of litter and we were on our way. + +Kyral's caravan, in spite of Cuinn's cursing, was well-managed and +well-handled. The men were Dry-towners, eleven of them, silent and +capable and most of them very young. They were cheerful on the trail, +handled the pack animals competently, during the day, and spent most of +the nights grouped around the fire, gambling silently on the fall of the +cut-crystal prisms they used for dice. + +Three days out of the Kharsa I began to worry about Cuinn. + +It was of course a spectacular piece of bad luck to find all three of +the men from the spaceport cafe in Kyral's caravan. Kyral had obviously +not known me, and even by daylight he paid no attention to me except to +give an occasional order. The second of the three was a gangling kid who +probably never gave me a second look, let alone a third. + +But Cuinn was another matter. He was a man my own age, and his fierce +eyes had a shrewdness in them that I did not trust. More than once I +caught him watching me, and on the two or three occasions when he drew +me into conversation, I found his questions more direct than Dry-town +good manners allowed. I weighed the possibility that I might have to +kill him before we reached Shainsa. + +We crossed the foothills and began to climb upward toward the mountains. +The first few days I found myself short of breath as we worked upward +into thinner air, then my acclimatization returned and I began to fall +into the pattern of the days and nights on the trail. The Trade City +was still a beacon in the night, but its glow on the horizon grew dimmer +with each day's march. + +Higher we climbed, along dangerous trails where men had to dismount and +let the pack animals pick their way, foot by foot. Here in these +altitudes the sun at noonday blazed redder and brighter, and the +Dry-towners, who come from the parched lands in the sea-bottoms, were +burned and blistered by the fierce light. I had grown up under the +blazing sun of Terra, and a red sun like Wolf, even at its hottest, +caused me no discomfort. This alone would have made me suspect. Once +again I found Cuinn's fierce eyes watching me. + +As we crossed the passes and began to descend the long trail through the +thick forests, we got into nonhuman country. Racing against the Ghost +Wind, we skirted the country around Charin, and the woods inhabited by +the terrible Ya-men, birdlike creatures who turn cannibal when the Ghost +Wind blows. + +Later the trail wound through thicker forests of indigo trees and +grayish-purple brushwood, and at night we heard the howls of the catmen +of these latitudes. At night we set guards about the caravan, and the +dark spaces and shadows were filled with noises and queer smells and +rustlings. + +Nevertheless, the day's marches and the night watches passed without +event until the night I shared guard with Cuinn. I had posted myself at +the edge of the camp, the fire behind me. The men were sleeping rolls of +snores, huddled close around the fire. The animals, hobbled with double +ropes, front feet to hind feet, shifted uneasily and let out long +uncanny whines. + +I heard Cuinn pacing behind me. I heard a rustle at the edge of the +forest, a stir and whisper beyond the trees, and turned to speak to him, +then saw him slipping away toward the outskirts of the clearing. + +For a moment I thought nothing of it, thinking that he was taking a few +steps toward the gap in the trees where he had disappeared. I suppose I +had the idea that he had slipped away to investigate some noise or +shadow, and that I should be at hand. + +Then I saw the flicker of lights beyond the trees--light from the +lantern Cuinn had been carrying in his hand! He was signaling! + +I slipped the safety clasp from the hilt of my skean and went after him. +In the dimming glow of the fire I fancied I saw luminous eyes watching +me, and the skin on my back crawled. I crept up behind him and leaped. +We went down in a tangle of flailing legs and arms, and in less than a +second he had his skean out and I was gripping his wrist, trying +desperately to force the blade away from my throat. + +I gasped, "Don't be a fool! One yell and the whole camp will be awake! +Who were you signaling?" + +In the light of the fallen lantern, lips drawn back in a snarl, he +looked almost inhuman. He strained at the knife for a moment, then +dropped it. "Let me up," he said. + +I got up and kicked the fallen skean toward him. "Put that away. What in +hell were you doing, trying to bring the catmen down on us?" + +For a moment he looked taken aback, then his fierce face closed down +again and he said wrathfully, "Can't a man walk away from the camp +without being half strangled?" + +I glared at him, but realized I really had nothing to go by. He might +have been answering a call of nature, and the movement of the lantern +accidental. And if someone had jumped me from behind, I might have +pulled a knife on him myself. So I only said, "Don't do it again. We're +all too jumpy." + +There were no other incidents that night, or the next. The night after, +while I lay huddled in my shirtcloak and blanket by the fire, I saw +Cuinn slip out of his bedroll and steal away. A moment later there was a +gleam in the darkness, but before I could summon the resolve to get up +and face it out with him, he returned, looked cautiously at the snoring +men, and crawled back into his blankets. + +While we were unpacking at the next camp, Kyral halted beside me. "Heard +anything queer lately? I've got the notion we're being trailed. We'll be +out of these forests tomorrow, and after that it's clear road all the +way to Shainsa. If anything's going to happen, it will happen tonight." + +I debated speaking to him about Cuinn's signals. No, I had my own +business waiting for me in Shainsa. Why mix myself up in some other, +private intrigue? + +He said, "I'm putting you and Cuinn on watch again. The old men doze +off, and the young fellows get to daydreaming or fooling around. That's +all right most of the time, but I want someone who'll keep his eyes open +tonight. Did you ever know Cuinn before this?" + +"Never set eyes on him." + +"Funny, I had the notion--" He shrugged, turned away, then stopped. + +"Don't think twice about rousing the camp if there's any disturbance. +Better a false alarm than an ambush that catches us all in our blankets. +If it came to a fight, we might be in a bad way. We all carry skeans, +but I don't think there's a shocker in the whole camp, let alone a gun. +You don't have one by any chance?" + +After the men had turned in, Cuinn patrolling the camp, halted a minute +beside me and cocked his head toward the rustling forest. + +"What's going on in there?" + +"Who knows? Catmen on the prowl, probably, thinking the horses would +make a good meal, or maybe that we would." + +"Think it will come to a fight?" + +"I wouldn't know." + +He surveyed me for a moment without speaking. "And if it did?" + +"We'd fight." Then I sucked in my breath, for Cuinn had spoken Terran +Standard, and I, without thinking had answered in the same language. He +grinned, showing white teeth filed to a point. + +"I thought so!" + +I seized his shoulder and demanded roughly, "And what are you going to +do about it?" + +"That depends on you," he answered, "and what you want in Shainsa. Tell +me the truth. What were you doing in the Terran Zone?" He gave me no +chance to answer. "You know who Kyral is, don't you?" + +"A trader," I said, "who pays my wages and minds his own affairs." I +moved backward, hand on my skean, braced for a sudden rush. He made no +aggressive motion, however. + +"Kyral told me you'd been asking questions about Rakhal Sensar," he +said. "Clever. Now I, for one, could have told you he'd never set eyes +on Rakhal. I--" + +He broke off, hearing a noise in the forest, a long eerie howl. I +muttered, "If you've brought them down on us--" + +He shook his head urgently. "I had to take that chance, to get word to +the others. It won't work. Where's the girl?" + +I hardly heard him. I was hearing twigs snap, and silent sneaking feet. +I turned for a yell that would rouse the camp and Cuinn grabbed me hard, +saying insistently, "Quick! Where's the girl! Go back and tell her it +won't work! If Kyral suspected--" + +He never finished the sentence. Just behind us came another of the long +eerie howls. I knocked Cuinn away, and suddenly the night was filled +with crouching forms that came down on us like a whirlwind. + +I shouted madly as the camp came alive with men struggling out of +blankets, fighting for life itself. I ran hard, still shouting, for the +enclosure where we had tied the horses. A catman, slim and black-furred, +was crouched and cutting the hobble-strings of the nearest animal. I +hurled myself on him. He exploded, clawing, raking my shoulder with +talons that ripped the rough cloth like paper. I whipped out my skean +and slashed upward. The talons contracted in my shoulder and I gasped +with pain. Then the thing howled and fell away, clawing at the air. It +twitched and lay still. + +Four shots in rapid succession cracked in the clearing. Kyral to the +contrary, someone must have had a pistol. I heard one of the cat-things +wail, a hoarse dying rattle. Something dark clawed my arm and I slashed +with the knife, going down as another set of talons fastened in my back, +rolling and clutching. + +I managed to get the thing's forelimbs wedged under my elbow, my knee in +its spine. I heaved, bent it backward, backward till it screamed, a high +wail. + +Then I felt the spine snap and the dead thing mewled once, just air +escaping from collapsing lungs, and slid limp from my thigh. Erect it +had not been over four feet tall and in the light of the dying fire it +might have been a dead lynx. + +"Rascar...." I heard a gasp, a groan. I whirled and saw Kyral go down, +struggling, drowning in half a dozen or more of the fierce half-humans. +I leaped at the smother of bodies, ripped one away with a stranglehold, +slashed at its throat. + +They were easy to kill. + +I heard a high, urgent scream in their mewing tongue. Then the furred +black things seemed to melt into the forest as silently as they had +come. Kyral, dazed, his forehead running blood, his arm slashed to the +bone, was sitting on the ground, still stunned. + +Somebody had to take charge. I bellowed, "Lights! Get lights. They won't +come back if we have enough light, they can only see well in the dark." + +Someone stirred the fire. It blazed up as they piled on dead branches, +and I roughly commanded one of the kids to fill every lantern he could +find, and get them burning. Four of the dead things were lying in the +clearing. The youngster I'd helped loading horses, the first day, gazed +down at one of the catmen, half-disemboweled by somebody's skean, and +suddenly bolted for the bushes, where I heard him retching. + +I set the others with stronger stomachs to dragging the bodies away from +the clearing, and went back to see how badly Kyral was hurt. He had the +rip in his arm and his face was covered with blood from a shallow scalp +wound, but he insisted on getting up to inspect the hurts of the others. + +There was no one without a claw-wound in leg or back or shoulder, but +none were serious, and we were all feeling fairly cheerful when someone +demanded, "Where's Cuinn?" + +He didn't seem to be anywhere. Kyral, staggering slightly, insisted on +searching, but I felt we wouldn't find him. "He probably went off with +his friends," I snorted, and told about the signaling. Kyral looked +grave. + +"You should have told me," he began, but shouts from the far end of the +clearing sent us racing there. We nearly stumbled over a single, +solitary, motionless form, outstretched and lifeless, blind eyes staring +upward at the moons. + +It was Cuinn. And his throat had been torn completely out. + + + + +CHAPTER SIX + + +Once we were free of the forest, the road to the Dry-towns lay straight +before us, with no hidden dangers. Some of us limped for a day or two, +or favored an arm or leg clawed by the catmen, but I knew that what +Kyral said was true; it was a lucky caravan which had to fight off only +one attack. + +Cuinn haunted me. A night or two of turning over his cryptic words in my +mind had convinced me that whoever, or whatever he'd been signaling, it +wasn't the catmen. And his urgent question "Where's the girl?" swam +endlessly in my brain, making no more sense than when I had first heard +it. Who had he mistaken me for? What did he think I was mixed up in? And +who, above all, were the "others" who had to be signaled, at the risk of +an attack by catmen which had meant his own death? + +With Cuinn dead, and Kyral thinking I'd saved his life, a large part of +the responsibility for the caravan now fell on me. And strangely I +enjoyed it, making the most of this interval when I was separated from +the thought of blood-feud or revenge, the need of spying or the threat +of exposure. During those days and nights on the trail I grew back +slowly into the Dry-towner I once had been. I knew I would be sorry when +the walls of Shainsa rose on the horizon, bringing me back inescapably +to my own quest. + +We swung wide, leaving the straight trail to Shainsa, and Kyral +announced his intention of stopping for half a day at Canarsa, one of +the walled nonhuman cities which lay well off the traveled road. To my +inadvertent show of surprise, he returned that he had trading +connections there. + +"We all need a day's rest, and the Silent Ones will buy from me, though +they have few dealings with men. Look here, I owe you something. You +have lenses? You can get a better price in Canarsa than you'd get in +Ardcarran or Shainsa. Come along with me, and I'll vouch for you." + +Kyral had been most friendly since the night I had dug him out from +under the catmen, and I knew no way to refuse without exposing myself +for the sham trader I was. But I was deathly apprehensive. Even with +Rakhal I had never entered any of the nonhuman towns. + +On Wolf, human and nonhuman have lived side by side for centuries. And +the human is not always the superior being. I might pass, among the +Dry-towners and the relatively stupid humanoid _chaks_, for another +Dry-towner. But Rakhal had cautioned me I could not pass among nonhumans +for native Wolfan, and warned me against trying. + +Nevertheless, I accompanied Kyral, carrying the box which had cost about +a week's pay in the Terran Zone and was worth a small fortune in the +Dry-towns. + +Canarsa seemed, inside the gates, like any other town. The houses were +round, beehive fashion, and the streets totally empty. Just inside the +gates a hooded figure greeted us, and gestured us by signs to follow +him. He was covered from head to foot with some coarse and shiny fiber +woven into stuff that looked like sacking. + +But under the thick hooding was horror. It slithered and it had nothing +like a recognizable human shape or walk, and I felt the primeval ape in +me cowering and gibbering in a corner of my brain. Kyral muttered, close +to my ear, "No outsider is ever allowed to look on the Silent Ones in +their real form. I think they're deaf and dumb, but be damn careful." + +"You bet," I whispered, and was glad the streets were empty. I walked +along, trying not to look at the gliding motion of that shrouded thing +up ahead. + +The trading was done in an open hut of reeds which looked as if it had +been built in a hurry, and was not square, round, hexagonal or any other +recognizable geometrical shape. It formed a pattern of its own, +presumably, but my human eyes couldn't see it. Kyral said in a breath of +a whisper, "They'll tear it down and burn it after we leave. We're +supposed to have contaminated it too greatly for any of the Silent Ones +ever to enter again. My family has traded with them for centuries, and +we're almost the only ones who have ever entered the city." + +Then two of the Silent Ones of Canarsa, also covered with that coarse +shiny stuff, slithered into the hut, and Kyral choked off his words as +if he had swallowed them. + +It was the strangest trading I had ever done. Kyral laid out the small +forged-steel tools and the coils of thin fine wire, and I unpacked my +lenses and laid them out in neat rows. The Silent Ones neither spoke nor +moved, but through a thin place in the gray veiling I saw a speck which +might have been a phosphorescent eye, moving back and forth as if +scanning the things laid out for their inspection. + +Then I smothered a gasp, for suddenly blank spaces appeared in the rows +of merchandise. Certain small tools--wirecutters, calipers, surgical +scissors--had vanished, and all the coils of wire had disappeared. +Blanks equally had appeared in the rows of lenses; all of my tiny, +powerful microscope lenses had vanished. I cast a quick glance at Kyral, +but he seemed unsurprised. I recalled vague rumors of the Silent Ones, +and concluded that, eerie though it seemed, this was merely their way of +doing business. + +Kyral pointed at one of the tools, at an exceptionally fine pair of +binocular lenses, at the last of the coils of wire. The shrouded ones +did not move, but the lenses and the wire vanished. The small tool +remained, and after a moment Kyral dropped his hand. + +I took my cue from Kyral and remained motionless, awaiting whatever +surprise was coming. I had halfway expected what happened next. In the +blank spaces, little points of light began to glimmer, and after a +moment, blue and red and green gem-stones appeared there. To me the +substitution appeared roughly equitable and fair, though I am no judge +of the fine points of gems. + +Kyral scowled slightly and pointed to one of the green gems, and after a +moment it whisked away and a blue one took its place. In another spot +where a fine set of surgical instruments had lain, Kyral pointed at the +blue gem which now lay there, shook his head and held out three fingers. +After a moment, a second blue stone lay winking beside the first. + +Kyral did not move, but inexorably held out the three fingers. There was +a little swirling in the air, and then both gems vanished, and the case +of surgical instruments lay in their place. + +Still Kyral did not move, but held the three fingers out for a full +minute. Finally he dropped them and bent to pick up the case +instruments. Again the little swirl in the air, and the instruments +vanished. In their place lay three of the blue gems. My mouth twitched +in the first amusement I had felt since we entered this uncanny place. +Evidently bargaining with the Silent Ones was not a great deal different +than bargaining with anyone anywhere. Nevertheless, under the eyes of +those shrouded but horrible forms--if they had eyes, which I doubted--I +had no impulse to protest their offered prices. + +I gathered up the rejected lenses, repacked them neatly, and helped +Kyral recrate the tools and instruments the Silent Ones had not wanted. +I noticed that in addition to the microscope lenses and surgical +instruments, they had taken all the fine wire. I couldn't imagine, and +didn't particularly want to imagine, what they intended to do with it. + +On our way back through the streets, unshepherded this time, Kyral's +tongue was loosened as if with a great release from tension. "They're +psychokinetics," he told me. "Quite a few of the nonhuman races are. I +guess they have to be, having no eyes and no hands. But sometimes I +wonder if we of the Dry-towns ought to deal with them at all." + +"What do you mean?" I asked, not really listening. I was thinking mostly +about the way the small objects had melted away and reappeared. The +sight had stirred some uncomfortable memory, a vague sense of danger. It +was not tangible enough for me to know why I feared it, but just a +subliminal uneasiness that kept prodding at me, like a tooth that isn't +quite aching yet. + +Kyral said, "We of Shainsa live between fire and flood. Terra on the one +hand, and on the other maybe something worse, who knows? We know so +little about the Silent Ones, and those like them. Who knows, maybe +we're giving them the weapons to destroy us--" He broke off, with a +gasp, and stood staring down one of the streets. + +It lay open and bare between two rows of round houses, and Kyral was +staring fixedly at a doorway which had opened there. I followed his +paralyzed gaze, and saw the girl. + +Hair like spun black glass fell in hard waves around her shoulders, and +the red eyes smiled with alien malice, alien mischief, beneath the dark +crown of little stars. And the Toad God sprawled in hideous +embroideries across the white folds of her breast. + +Kyral gulped hoarsely. His hand flew up as he clutched the charms strung +about his neck. I imitated the gesture mechanically, watching Kyral, +wondering if he would turn and run again. But he stood frozen for a +minute. Then the spell broke and he took one step toward the girl, arms +outstretched. + +"Miellyn!" he cried, and there was heartbreak in his voice. And again, +the cry making ringing echoes in the strange street: + +"Miellyn! _Miellyn!_" + +This time it was the girl who whirled and fled. Her white robes +fluttered and I saw the twinkle of her flying feet as she vanished into +a space between the houses and was gone. + +Kyral took one blind step down the street, then another. But before he +could burst into a run I had him by the arm, dragging him back to +sanity. + +"Man, you've gone mad! Chase, in a nonhuman town?" + +He struggled for a minute, then, with a harsh sigh, he said, "It's all +right, I won't--" and shook loose from my arm. + +He did not speak again until we reached the gates of Canarsa and they +closed, silently and untouched, behind us. I had forgotten the place +already. I had space only to think of the girl, whose face I had not +forgotten since the moment when she saved me and disappeared. Now she +had appeared again to Kyral. What did it all mean? + +I asked, as we walked toward the camp, "Do you know that girl?" But I +knew the question was futile. Kyral's face was closed, conceding +nothing, and his friendliness had vanished completely. + +He said, "Now I know you. You saved me from the catmen, and again in +Canarsa, so my hands are bound from harming you. But it is evil to have +dealings with those who have been touched by the Toad God." He spat +noisily on the ground, looked at me with loathing, and said, "We will +reach Shainsa in three days. Stay away from me." + + + + +CHAPTER SEVEN + + +Shainsa, first in the chain of Dry-towns that lie in the bed of a +long-dried ocean, is set at the center of a great alkali plain; a dusty, +parched city bleached by a million years of sun. The houses are high, +spreading buildings with many rooms and wide windows. The poorer sort +were made of sun-dried brick, the more imposing being cut from the +bleached salt stone of the cliffs that rise behind the city. + +News travels fast in the Dry-towns. If Rakhal were in the city, he'd +soon know that I was here, and guess who I was or why I'd come. I might +disguise myself so that my own sister, or the mother who bore me, would +not know me. But I had no illusions about my ability to disguise myself +from Rakhal. He had created the disguise that was me. + +When the second sun set, red and burning, behind the salt cliffs, I knew +he was not in Shainsa, but I stayed on, waiting for something to happen. +At night I slept in a cubbyhole behind a wineshop, paying an inordinate +price for that very dubious privilege. And every day in the sleepy +silence of the blood-red noon I paced the public square of Shainsa. + +This went on for four days. No one took the slightest notice of another +nameless man in a shabby shirtcloak, without name or identity or known +business. No one appeared to see me except the dusty children, with pale +fleecy hair, who played their patient games on the windswept curbing of +the square. They surveyed my scarred face with neither curiosity or +fear, and it occurred to me that Rindy might be such another as these. + +If I had still been thinking like an Earthman, I might have tried to +question one of the children, or win their confidence. But I had a +deeper game in hand. + +On the fifth day I was so much a fixture that my pacing went unnoticed +even by the children. On the gray moss of the square, a few +dried-looking old men, their faces as faded as their shirtcloaks and +bearing the knife scars of a hundred forgotten fights, drowsed on the +stone benches. And along the flagged walk at the edge of the square, as +suddenly as an autumn storm in the salt flats, a woman came walking. + +She was tall, with a proud swinging walk, and a metallic clashing kept +rhythm to her swift steps. Her arms were fettered, each wrist bound with +a jeweled bracelet and the bracelets linked together by a long, +silver-gilt chain passed through a silken loop at her waist. From the +loop swung a tiny golden padlock, but in the lock stood an even tinier +key, signifying that she was a higher caste than her husband or consort, +that her fettering was by choice and not command. + +She stopped directly before me and raised her arm in formal greeting +like a man. The chain made a tinkling sound in the hushed square as her +other hand was pulled up tight against the silken loop at her waist. She +stood surveying me for some moments, and finally I raised my head and +returned her gaze. I don't know why I had expected her to have hair like +spun black glass and eyes that burned with a red reflection of the +burning star. + +This woman's eyes were darker than the poison-berries of the salt +cliffs, and her mouth was a cut berry that looked just as dangerous. She +was young, the slimness of her shoulders and the narrow steel-chained +wrists told me how very young she was, but her face had seen weather and +storms, and her dark eyes had weathered worse psychic storms than that. +She did not flinch at the sight of my scars, and met my gaze without +dropping her eyes. + +"You are a stranger. What is your business in Shainsa?" + +I met the direct question with the insolence it demanded, hardly moving +my lips. "I have come to buy women for the brothels of Ardcarran. +Perhaps when washed you might be suitable. Who could arrange for your +sale?" + +She took the rebuke impassively, though the bitter crimson of her mouth +twitched a little in mischief or rage. But she made no sign. The battle +was joined between us, and I knew already that it would be fought to the +end. + +From somewhere in her draperies, something fell to the ground with a +little tinkle. But I knew that trick too and I did not move. Finally she +went away without bending to retrieve it and when I looked around I saw +that all the fleece-haired children had stolen away, leaving their +playthings lying on the curbing. But one or two of the gaffers on the +stone benches, who were old enough to show curiosity without losing +face, were watching me with impassive eyes. + +I could have asked the woman's name then, but I held back, knowing it +could only lessen the prestige I had gained from the encounter. I +glanced down, without seeming to do so, at the tiny mirror which had +fallen from the recesses of the fur robe. Her name might have been +inscribed on the reverse. + +But I left it lying there to be picked up by the children when they +returned, and went back to the wineshop. I had accomplished my first +objective; if you can't be inconspicuous, be so damned conspicuous that +nobody can miss you. And that in itself is a fair concealment. How many +people can accurately describe a street riot? + +I was finishing off a bad meal with a stone bottle of worse wine when +the _chak_ came in, disregarding the proprietor, and made straight for +me. He was furred immaculately white. His velvet muzzle was contracted +as if the very smells might soil it, and he kept a dainty paw +outstretched to ward off accidental contact with greasy counters or +tables or tapestries. His fur was scented, and his throat circled with a +collar of embroidered silk. This pampered minion surveyed me with the +innocent malice of an uninvolved nonhuman for merely human intrigues. + +"You are wanted in the Great House of Shanitha, thcarred man." He spoke +the Shainsa dialect with an affected lisp. "Will it pleathe you, come +wis' me?" + +I came, with no more than polite protest, but was startled. I had not +expected the encounter to reach the Great House so soon. Shainsa's Great +House had changed hands four times since I had last been in Shainsa. I +wasn't overly anxious to appear there. + +The white _chak_, as out of place in the rough Dry-town as a jewel in +the streets or a raindrop in the desert, led me along a winding +boulevard to an outlying district. He made no attempt to engage me in +conversation, and indeed I got the distinct impression that this +cockscomb of a nonhuman considered me well beneath his notice. He seemed +much more aware of the blowing dust in the street, which ruffled and +smudged his carefully combed fur. + +The Great House was carved from blocks of rough pink basalt, the entry +guarded by two great caryatids enwrapped in chains of carved metal, set +somehow into the surface of the basalt. The gilt had long ago worn away +from the chains so that it alternately gleamed gold or smudged base +metal. The caryatids were patient and blind, their jewel-eyes long +vanished under a hotter sun than today's. + +The entrance hall was enormous. A Terran starship could have stood +upright inside it, was my first impression, but I dismissed that thought +quickly; any Terran thought was apt to betray me. But the main hall was +built on a scale even more huge, and it was even colder than the +legendary hell of the _chaks_. It was far too big for the people in it. + +There was a little solar heater in the ceiling, but it didn't help much. +A dim glow came from a metal brazier but that didn't help much either. +The _chak_ melted into the shadows, and I went down the steps into the +hall by myself, feeling carefully for each step with my feet and trying +not to seem to be doing so. My comparative night-blindness is the only +significant way in which I really differ from a native Wolfan. + +There were three men, two women and a child in the room. They were all +Dry-towners and had an obscure family likeness, and they all wore rich +garments of fur dyed in many colors. One of the men, old and stooped and +withered, was doing something to the brazier. A slim boy of fourteen was +sitting cross-legged on a pile of cushions in the corner. There was +something wrong with his legs. + +A girl of ten in a too-short smock that showed long spider-thin legs +above her low leather boots was playing with some sort of shimmery +crystals, spilling them out into patterns and scooping them up again +from the uneven stones of the floor. One of the women was a fat, creased +slattern, whose jewels and dyed furs did not disguise her greasy +slovenliness. + +Her hands were unchained, and she was biting into a fruit which dripped +red juice down the rich blue fur of her robe. The old man gave her a +look like murder as I came in, and she straightened slightly but did not +discard the fruit. The whole room had a curious look of austere, +dignified poverty, to which the fat woman was the only discordant note. + +But it was the remaining man and woman who drew my attention, so that I +noticed the others only peripherally, in their outermost orbit. One was +Kyral, standing at the foot of the dais and glowering at me. + +The other was the dark-eyed woman I had rebuked today in the public +square. + +Kyral said, "So it's you." And his voice held nothing. Not rebuke, not +friendliness or a lack of it, not even hatred. + +Nothing. + +There was only one way to meet it. I faced the girl--she was sitting on +a thronelike chair next to the fat woman, and looked like a doe next to +a pig--and said boldly, "I assume this summons to mean that you informed +your kinsmen of my offer." + +She flushed, and that was triumph enough. I held back the triumph, +however, wary of overconfidence. The gaffer laughed the high cackle of +age, and Kyral broke in with a sharp, angry monosyllable by which I knew +that my remark had indeed been repeated, and had lost nothing in the +telling. But only the line of his jaw betrayed the anger as he said +calmly, "Be quiet, Dallisa. Where did you pick this up?" + +I said boldly, "The Great House has changed rulers since last I smelled +the salt cliffs. Newcomers do not know my name and theirs is unknown to +me." + +The old gaffer said thinly to Kyral, "Our name has lost _kihar_. One +daughter is lured away by the Toymaker and another babbles with +strangers in the square, and a homeless no-good of the streets does not +know our name." + +My eyes, growing accustomed to the dark blaze of the brazier, saw that +Kyral was biting his lip and scowling. Then he gestured to a table where +an array of glassware was set, and at the gesture, the white _chak_ came +on noiseless feet and poured wine. + +"If you have no blood-feud with my family, will you drink with me?" + +"I will," I said, relaxing. Even if he had associated the trader with +the scarred Earthman of the spaceport, he seemed to have decided to drop +the matter. He seemed startled, but he waited until I had lifted the +glass and taken a sip. Then, with a movement like lightning, he leaped +from the dais and struck the glass from my lips. + +I staggered back, wiping my cut mouth, in a split-second juggling +possibilities. The insult was terrible and deadly. I could do nothing +now but fight. Men had been murdered in Shainsa for far less. I had come +to settle one feud, not involve myself in another, but even while these +lightning thoughts flickered in my mind, I had whipped out my skean and +I was surprised at the shrillness of my own voice. + +"You contrive offense beneath your own roof--" + +"Spy and renegade!" Kyral thundered. He did not touch his skean. From +the table he caught a long four-thonged whip, making it whistle through +the air. The long-legged child scuttled backward. I stepped back one +pace, trying to conceal my desperate puzzlement. I could not guess what +had prompted Kyral's attack, but whatever it was, I must have made some +bad mistake and could count myself lucky to get out of there alive. + +Kyral's voice perceptibly trembled with rage. "You dare to come into my +own home after I have tracked you to the Kharsa and back, blind fool +that I was! But now you shall pay." + +The whip sang through the air, hissing past my shoulders. I dodged to +one side, retreating step by step as Kyral swung the powerful thongs. It +cracked again, and a pain like the burning of red-hot irons seared my +upper arm. My skean rattled down from numb fingers. + +The whip whacked the floor. + +"Pick up your skean," said Kyral. "Pick it up if you dare." He poised +the lash again. + +The fat woman screamed. + +I stood rigid, gauging my chances of disarming him with a sudden leap. +Suddenly the girl Dallisa leaped from her seat with a harsh musical +chiming of chains. + +"Kyral, no! No, Kyral!" + +He moved slightly, but did not take his eyes from me. "Get back, +Dallisa." + +"No! Wait!" She ran to him and caught his whip-arm, dragging it down, +and spoke to him hurriedly and urgently. Kyral's face changed as she +spoke; he drew a long breath and threw the whip down beside my skean on +the floor. + +"Answer straight, on your life. What are you doing in Shainsa?" + +I could hardly take it in that for the moment I was reprieved from +sudden death, from being beaten into bloody death there at Kyral's feet. +The girl went back to her thronelike chair. Now I must either tell the +truth or a convincing lie, and I was lost in a game where I didn't know +the rules. The explanation I thought might get me out alive might be the +very one which would bring down instant and painful death. Suddenly, +with a poignancy that was almost pain, I wished Rakhal were standing +here at my side. + +But I had to bluff it out alone. + +If they had recognized me for Race Cargill, the Terran spy who had often +been in Shainsa, they might release me--it was possible, I supposed, +that they were Terran sympathizers. On the other hand, Kyral's shouts of +"Spy, renegade!" seemed to suggest the opposite. + +I stood trying to ignore the searing pain in my lashed arm, but I knew +that blood was running hot down my shoulder. Finally I said, "I came to +settle blood-feud." + +Kyral's lips thinned in what might have been meant for a smile. "You +shall, assuredly. But with whom, remains to be seen." + +Knowing I had nothing more to lose, I said, "With a renegade called +Rakhal Sensar." + +Only the old man echoed my words dully, "Rakhal Sensar?" + +I felt heartened, seeing I wasn't dead yet. + +"I have sworn to kill him." + +Kyral suddenly clapped his hands and shouted to the white _chak_ to +clean up the broken glass on the floor. He said huskily, "You are not +yourself Rakhal Sensar?" + +"I _told_ you he wasn't," said Dallisa, high and hysterically. "I _told_ +you he wasn't." + +"A scarred man, tall--what was I to think?" Kyral sounded and looked +badly shaken. He filled a glass himself and handed it to me, saying +hoarsely, "I did not believe even the renegade Rakhal would break the +code so far as to drink with me." + +"He would not." I could be positive about this. The codes of Terra had +made some superficial impress on Rakhal, but down deep his own world +held sway. If these men were at blood-feud with Rakhal and he stood here +where I stood, he would have let himself be beaten into bloody rags +before tasting their wine. + +I took the glass, raised it and drained it. Then, holding it out before +me, I said, "Rakhal's life is mine. But I swear by the red star and by +the unmoving mountains, by the black snow and by the Ghost Wind, I have +no quarrel with any beneath this roof." I cast the glass to the floor, +where it shattered on the stones. + +Kyral hesitated, but under the blazing eyes of the girl he quickly +poured himself a glass of the wine and drank a few sips, then flung down +the glass. He stepped forward and laid his hands on my shoulders. I +winced as he touched the welt of the lash and could not raise my own arm +to complete the ceremonial toast. + +Kyral stepped away and shrugged. "Shall I have one of the women see to +your hurt?" He looked at Dallisa, but she twisted her mouth. "Do it +yourself!" + +"It is nothing," I said, not truthfully. "But I demand in requital that +since we are bound by spilled blood under your roof, that you give me +what news you have of Rakhal, the spy and renegade." + +Kyral said fiercely, "If I knew, would I be under my own roof?" + +The old gaffer on the dais broke into shrill whining laughter. "You have +drunk wi' him, Kyral, now he's bound you not to do him harm! I know the +story of Rakhal! He was spy for Terra twelve years. Twelve years, and +then he fought and flung their filthy money in their faces and left 'em. +But his partner was some Dry-town halfbreed or Terran spy and they +fought wi' clawed gloves, and near killed one another except the +Terrans, who have no honor, stopped 'em. See the marks of the _kifirgh_ +on his face!" + +"By Sharra the golden-chained," said Kyral, gazing at me with something +like a grin. "You are, if nothing else, a very clever man. What are you, +spy, or half-caste of some Ardcarran slut?" + +"What I am doesn't matter to you," I said. "You have blood-feud with +Rakhal, but mine is older than yours and his life is mine. As you are +bound in honor to kill"--the formal phrases came easily now to my +tongue; the Earthman had slipped away--"so you are bound in honor to +help me kill. If anyone beneath your roof knows anything of Rakhal--" + +Kyral's smile bared his teeth. + +"Rakhal works against the Son of the Ape," he said, using the insulting +Wolf term for the Terrans. "If we help you to kill him, we remove a goad +from their flanks. I prefer to let the filthy _Terranan_ spend their +strength trying to remove it themselves. Moreover, I believe you are +yourself an Earthman. + +"You have no right to the courtesy I extend to we, the People of the +Sky. Yet you have drunk wine with me and I have no quarrel with you." He +raised his hand in dismissal, outfencing me. "Leave my roof in safety +and my city with honor." + +I could not protest or plead. A man's _kihar_, his personal dignity, is +a precious thing in Shainsa, and he had placed me so I could not +compromise mine further in words. Yet I lost _kihar_ equally if I left +at his bidding, like an inferior dismissed. + +One desperate gamble remained. + +"A word," I said, raising my hand, and while he half turned, startled, +believing I was indeed about to compromise my dignity by a further plea, +I flung it at him: + +"I will bet _shegri_ with you." + +His iron composure looked shaken. I had delivered a blow to his belief +that I was an Earthman, for it is doubtful if there are six Earthmen on +Wolf who know about _shegri_, the dangerous game of the Dry-towns. + +It is no ordinary gamble, for what the bettor stakes is his life, +possibly his reason. Rarely indeed will a man bet _shegri_ unless he has +nothing further to lose. + +It is a cruel, possibly decadent game, which has no parallel anywhere in +the known universe. + +But I had no choice. I had struck a cold trail in Shainsa. Rakhal might +be anywhere on the planet and half of Magnusson's month was already up. +Unless I could force Kyral to tell what he knew, I might as well quit. + +So I repeated: "I will bet _shegri_ with you." + +And Kyral stood unmoving. + +For what the _shegrin_ wagers is his courage and endurance in the face +of torture and an unknown fate. On his side, the stakes are clearly +determined beforehand. But if he loses, his punishment or penalty is at +the whim of the one who has accepted him, and he may be put to whatever +doom the winner determines. + +And this is the contest: + +The _shegrin_ permits himself to be tortured from sunrise to sunset. If +he endures he wins. It is as simple as that. He can stop the torture at +any moment by a word, but to do so is a concession of defeat. + +This is not as dangerous as it might, at first, seem. The other party to +the bet is bound by the ironclad codes of Wolf to inflict no permanent +physical damage (no injury that will not heal with three suncourses). +But from sunrise to sunset, any torment or painful ingenuity which the +half-human mentality of Wolf can devise must be endured. + +The man who can outthink the torture of the moment, the man who can hold +in his mind the single thought of his goal--that man can claim the +stakes he has set, as well as other concessions made traditional. + +The silence grew in the hall. Dallisa had straightened and was watching +me intently, her lips parted and the tip of a little red tongue visible +between her teeth. The only sound was the tiny crunching as the fat +woman nibbled at nuts and cast their shells into the brazier. Even the +child on the steps had abandoned her game with the crystal dice, and sat +looking up at me with her mouth open. Finally Kyral demanded, "Your +stakes?" + +"Tell me all you know of Rakhal Sensar and keep silence about me in +Shainsa." + +"By the red shadow," Kyral burst out, "you have courage, Rascar!" + +"Say only yes or no!" I retorted. + +Rebuked, he fell silent. Dallisa leaned forward and again, for some +unknown reason, I thought of a girl with hair like spun black glass. + +Kyral raised his hand. "I say no. I have blood-feud with Rakhal and I +will not sell his death to another. Further, I believe you are Terran +and I will not deal with you. And finally, you have twice saved my life +and I would find small pleasure in torturing you. I say no. Drink again +with me and we part without a quarrel." + +Beaten, I turned to go. + +"Wait," said Dallisa. + +She stood up and came down from the dais, slowly this time, walking with +dignity to the rhythm of her musically clashing chains. "I have a +quarrel with this man." + +I started to say that I did not quarrel with women, and stopped myself. +The Terran concept of chivalry has no equivalent on Wolf. + +She looked at me with her dark poison-berry eyes, icy and level and +amused, and said, "I will bet _shegri_ with you, unless you fear me, +Rascar." + +And I knew suddenly that if I lost, I might better have trusted myself +to Kyral and his whip, or to the wild beast-things of the mountains. + + + + +CHAPTER EIGHT + + +I slept little that night. + +There is a tale told in Daillon of a _shegri_ where the challenger was +left in a room alone, where he was blindfolded and told to await the +beginning of the torment. + +Somewhere in those dark hours of waiting, between the unknown and the +unexpected, the hours of telling over to himself the horrors of past +_shegri_, the torture of anticipation alone became the unbearable. A +little past noon he collapsed in screams of horror and died raving, +unmarred, untouched. + +Daybreak came slowly, and with the first streamers of light came Dallisa +and the white _chak_, maliciously uninvolved, sniffing his way through +the shabby poverty of the great hall. They took me to a lower dungeon +where the slant of the sunlight was less visible. Dallisa said, "The sun +has risen." + +I said nothing. Any word may be interpreted as a confession of defeat. I +resolved to give them no excuse. But my skin crawled and I had that +peculiar prickling sensation where the hair on my forearms was +bristling erect with tension and fear. + +Dallisa said to the _chak_, "His gear was not searched. See that he has +swallowed no anesthetic drugs." + +Briefly I gave her credit for thoroughness, even while I wondered in a +split second why I had not thought of this. Drugs could blur +consciousness, at least, or suspend reality. The white nonhuman sprang +forward and pinioned my arms with one strong, spring-steel forearm. With +his other hand he forced my jaws open. I felt the furred fingers at the +back of my throat, gagged, struggled briefly and doubled up in +uncontrollable retching. + +Dallisa's poison-berry-eyes regarded me levelly as I struggled upright, +fighting off the dizzy sickness of disgust. Something about her +impassive face stopped me cold. I had been, momentarily, raging with +fury and humiliation. Now I realized that this had been a calculated, +careful gesture to make me lose my temper and thus sap my resistance. + +If she could set me to fighting, if she could make me spend my strength +in rage, my own imagination would fight on her side to make me lose +control before the end. Swimming in the glare of her eyes, I realized +she had never thought for a moment that I had taken any drug. Acting on +Kyral's hint that I was a Terran, she was taking advantage of the +well-known Terran revulsion for the nonhuman. + +"Blindfold him," Dallisa commanded, then instantly countermanded that: +"No, strip him first." + +The _chak_ ripped off shirtcloak, shirt, shoes, breeches, and I had my +first triumph when the wealed clawmarks on my shoulders--worse, if +possible, than those which disfigured my face--were laid bare. The +_chak_ screwed up his muzzle in fastidious horror, and Dallisa looked +shaken. I could almost read her thoughts: + +_If he endured this, what hope have I to make him cry mercy?_ + +Briefly I remembered the months I lay feverish and half dead, waiting +for the wounds Rakhal had inflicted to heal, those months when I had +believed that nothing would ever hurt me again, that I had known the +worst of all suffering. But I had been younger then. + +Dallisa had picked up two small sharp knives. She weighed them, +briefly, gesturing to the _chak_. Without resisting, I let myself be +manhandled backward, spreadeagled against the wall. + +Dallisa commanded, "Drive the knives through his palms to the wall!" + +My hands twitched convulsively, anticipating the slash of steel, and my +throat closed in spasmodic dread. This was breaking the compact, bound +as they were not to inflict physical damage. I opened my lips to protest +this breaking of the bond of honor and met her dark blazing stare, and +suddenly the sweat broke out on my forehead. I had placed myself wholly +in their hands, and as Kyral had said, they were in no way bound by +honor to respect a pledge to a Terran! + +Then, as my hands clenched into fists, I forced myself to relax. This +was a bluff, a mental trick to needle me into breaking the pact and +pleading for mercy. I set my lips, spread my palms wide against the wall +and waited impassively. + +She said in her lilting voice, "Take care not to sever the tendons, or +his hands would be paralyzed and he may claim we have broken our +compact." + +The points of the steel, razor-sharp, touched my palms, and I felt blood +run down my hand before the pain. With an effort that turned my face +white, I did not pull away from the point. The knives drove deeper. + +Dallisa gestured to the _chak_. The knives dropped. Two pinpricks, a +quarter of an inch deep, stung in my palm. I had outbluffed her. Had I? + +If I had expected her to betray disappointment--and I had--I was +disappointed. Abruptly, as if the game had wearied her already, she +gestured, and I could not hold back a gasp as my arms were hauled up +over my head, twisted violently around one another and trussed with thin +cords that bit deep into the flesh. Then the rough upward pull almost +jerked my shoulders from their sockets and I heard the giant _chak_ +grunt with effort as I was hauled upward until my feet barely, on +tiptoe, touched the floor. + +"Blindfold him," said Dallisa languidly, "so that he cannot watch the +ascent of the sun or its descent or know what is to come." + +A dark softness muffled my eyes. After a little I heard her steps +retreating. My arms, wrenched overhead and numbed with the bite of the +cords, were beginning to hurt badly now. But it wasn't too bad. Surely +she did not mean that this should be all.... + +Sternly I controlled my imagination, taking a tight rein on my thoughts. +There was only one way to meet this--hanging blind and racked in space, +my toes barely scrabbling at the floor--and that was to take each thing +as it came and not look ahead for an instant. First of all I tried to +get my feet under me, and discovered that by arching upwards to my +fullest height I could bear my weight on tiptoe and ease, a little, the +dislocating ache in my armpits by slackening the overhead rope. + +But after a little, a cramping pain began to flare through the arches of +my feet, and it became impossible to support my weight on tiptoe. I +jarred down with violent strain on my wrists and wrenched shoulders +again, and for a moment the shooting agony was so intense that I nearly +screamed. I thought I heard a soft breath near me. + +After a little it subsided to a sharp ache, then to a dull ache, and +then to the violent cramping pain again, and once more I struggled to +get my toes under me. I realized that by allowing my toes barely to +touch the floor they had doubled and tripled the pain by the tantalizing +hope of, if not momentary relief, at least the alteration of one pain +for another. + +I haven't the faintest idea, even now, how long I repeated that +agonizing cycle: struggle for a toehold on rough stone, scraping my bare +feet raw; arch upward with all my strength to release for a few moments +the strain on my wrenched shoulders; the momentary illusion of relief as +I found my balance and the pressure lightened on my wrists. + +Then the slow creeping, first of an ache, then of a pain, then of a +violent agony in the arches of feet and calves. And, delayed to the last +endurable moment, that final terrible anguish when the drop of my full +weight pulled shoulder and wrist and elbow joints with that +bone-shattering jerk. + +I started once to estimate how much time had passed, how many hours had +crawled by, then checked myself, for that was imminent madness. But once +the process had begun my brain would not abandon and I found myself, +with compulsive precision, counting off the seconds and the minutes in +each cycle: stretch upward, release the pressure on the arms; the +beginning of pain in calves and arches and toes; the creeping of pain up +ribs and loins and shoulders; the sudden jarring drop on the arms again. + +My throat was intolerably dry. Under other circumstances I might have +estimated the time by the growth of hunger and thirst, but the rough +treatment I had received made this impossible. There were other, +unmentionable, humiliating pains. + +After a time, to bolster my flagging courage, I found myself thinking of +all the ways it might have been worse. I had heard of a _shegrin_ +exposed to the bite of poisonous--not fatal, but painfully +poisonous--insects, and to the worrying of the small gnawing rodents +which can be trained to bite and tear. Or I might have been branded.... + +I banished the memory with the powerful exorcism; the man in Daillon +whose anticipation, alone, of a torture which never came, had broken his +mind. There was only one way to conquer this, and that was to act as if +the present moment was the only one, and never for a moment to forget +that the strongest of compacts bound them not to harm me, that the end +of this was fixed by sunset. + +Gradually, however, all such rational thoughts blurred in a semidelirium +of thirst and pain, narrowing to a red blaze of agony across my shoulder +blades. I eased up on my toes again. + +White-hot pain blazed through my feet. The rough stone on which my toes +sank had been covered with metal and I smelled scorching flesh, jerking +up my feet with a wordless snarl of rage and fury, hanging in agony by +my shoulders alone. + +And then I lost consciousness, at least for several moments, for when I +became aware again, through the nightmare of pain, my toes were resting +lightly and securely on cold stone. The smell of burned flesh remained, +and the painful stinging in my toes. Mingled with that smell was a drift +of perfume close by. + +Dallisa murmured, "I do not wish to break our bargain by damaging your +feet. It's only a little touch of fire to keep you from too much +security in resting them." + +I felt the taste of blood mingle in my mouth with the sour taste of +vomit. I felt delirious, lightheaded. After another eternity I wondered +if I had really heard Dallisa's lilting croon or whether it was a +nightmare born of feverish pain: + +_Plead with me. A word, only a word and I will release you, strong man, +scarred man. Perhaps I shall demand only a little space in your arms. +Would not such doom be light upon you? Perhaps I shall set you free to +seek Rakhal if only to plague Kyral. A word, only a word from you. A +word, only a word from you...._ + +It died into an endlessly echoing whisper. Swaying, blinded, I wondered +why I endured. I drew a dry tongue over lips, salty and bloody, and +nightmarishly considered yielding, winning my way somehow around +Dallisa. Or knocking her suddenly senseless and escaping--I, who need +not be bound by Wolf's codes either. I fumbled with a stiff shape of +words. + +And a breath saved me, a soft, released breath of anticipation. It was +another trick. I swayed, limp and racked. I was not Race Cargill now. I +was a dead man hanging in chains, swinging, filthy vultures pecking at +my dangling feet. I was.... + +The sound of boots rang on the stone and Kyral's voice, low and bitter, +demanded somewhere behind me, "What have you done with him?" + +She did not answer, but I heard her chains clash lightly and imagined +her gesture. Kyral muttered, "Women have no genius at any torture +except...." His voice faded out into great distances. Their words came +to me over a sort of windy ringing, like the howling of lost men, dying +in the snowfast passes of the mountains. + +"Speak up, you fool, he can't hear you now." + +"If you have let him faint, you are clumsy!" + +"_You_ talk of clumsiness!" Dallisa's voice, even thinned by the +nightmare ringing in my head, held concentrated scorn. "Perhaps I shall +release him, to find Rakhal when you failed! The Terrans have a price on +Rakhal's head, too. And at least this man will not confuse himself with +his prey!" + +"If you think I would let you bargain with a _Terranan_--" + +Dallisa cried passionately, "You trade with the Terrans! How would you +stop me, then?" + +"I trade with them because I must. But for a matter involving the honor +of the Great House--" + +"The Great House whose steps you would never have climbed, except for +Rakhal!" Dallisa sounded as if she were chewing her words in little +pieces and spitting them at Kyral. "Oh, you were clever to take us both +as your consorts! You did not know it was Rakhal's doing, did you? Hate +the Terrans, then!" She spat an obscenity at him. "Enjoy your hate, +wallow in hating, and in the end all Shainsa will fall prey to the +Toymaker, like Miellyn." + +"If you speak that name again," said Kyral very low, "I will kill you." + +"Like Miellyn, Miellyn, Miellyn," Dallisa repeated deliberately. "You +fool, Rakhal knew nothing of Miellyn!" + +"He was seen--" + +"With _me_, you fool! With _me_! You cannot yet tell twin from twin? +Rakhal came to _me_ to ask news of her!" + +Kyral cried out hoarsely, like a man in anguish, "Why didn't you tell +me?" + +"You don't really have to ask, do you, Kyral?" + +"You bitch!" said Kyral. "You filthy bitch!" I heard the sound of a +blow. The next moment Kyral ripped the blindfold from my eyes and I +blinked in the blaze of light. My arms were wholly numb now, twisted +above my head, but the jar of his touch sent fresh pain racing through +me. Kyral's face swam out of the blaze of hell. "If that is true, then +this is a damnable farce, Dallisa. You have lost our chance of learning +what he knows of Miellyn." + +"What _he_ knows?" Dallisa lowered her hand from her face, where a +bruise was already darkening. + +"Miellyn has twice appeared when I was with him. Loose him, Dallisa, and +bargain with him. What we know of Rakhal for what he knows of Miellyn." + +"If you think I would let you bargain with _Terranan_," she mocked. +"Weakling, this quarrel is _mine_! You fool, the others in the caravan +will give me news, if you will not! _Where is Cuinn?_" + +From a million miles away Kyral laughed. "You've slipped the wrong hawk, +Dallisa. The catmen killed him." His skean flicked loose. He climbed to +a perch near the rope at my wrists. "Bargain with me, Rascar!" + +I coughed, unable to speak, and Kyral insisted, "Will you bargain? End +this damned woman's farce which makes a mock of _shegri_?" + +The slant of sun told me there was light left. I found a shred of voice, +not knowing what I was going to say until I had said it, irrevocably. +"This is between Dallisa and me." + +Kyral glared at me in mounting rage. With four strides he was out of the +room, flinging back a harsh, furious "I hope you kill each other!" and +the door slammed. + +Dallisa's face swam red, and again as before, I knew the battle which +was joined between us would be fought to a dreadful end. She touched my +chest lightly, but the touch jolted excruciating pain through my +shoulders. + +"Did you kill Cuinn?" + +I wondered, wearily, what this presaged. + +"Did you?" In a passion, she cried, "Answer! Did you kill him?" She +struck me hard, and where the touch had been pain, the blow was a blaze +of white agony. I fainted. + +"Answer!" She struck me again and the white blaze jolted me back to +consciousness. "Answer me! Answer!" Each cry bought a blow until I +gasped finally, "He signaled ... set catmen on us...." + +"No!" She stood staring at me and her white face was a death mask in +which the eyes lived. She screamed wildly and the huge _chak_ came +running. + +"Cut him down! Cut him down! Cut him down!" + +A knife slashed the rope and I slumped, falling in a bone-breaking +huddle to the floor. My arms were still twisted over my head. The _chak_ +cut the ropes apart, pulled my arms roughly back into place, and I +gagged with the pain as the blood began flowing painfully through the +chafed and swollen hands. + +And then I lost consciousness. More or less permanently, this time. + + + + +CHAPTER NINE + + +When I came to again I was lying with my head in Dallisa's lap, and the +reddish color of sunset was in the room. Her thighs were soft under my +head, and for an instant I wondered if, in delirium, I had conceded to +her. I muttered, "Sun ... not down...." + +She bent her face to mine, whispering, "Hush. Hush." + +It was heaven, and I drifted off again. After a moment I felt a cup +against my lips. + +"Can you swallow this?" + +I could and did. I couldn't taste it yet, but it was cold and wet and +felt heavenly trickling down my throat. She bent and looked into my +eyes, and I felt as if I were falling into those reddish and stormy +depths. She touched my scarred mouth with a light finger. Suddenly my +head cleared and I sat upright. + +"Is this a trick to force me into calling my bet?" + +She recoiled as if I had struck her, then the trace of a smile flitted +around her red mouth. Yes, between us it was battle. "You are right to +be suspicious, I suppose. But if I tell you what I know of Rakhal, will +you trust me then?" + +I looked straight at her and said, "No." + +Surprisingly, she threw back her head and laughed. I flexed my freed +wrists cautiously. The skin was torn away and chafed, and my arms ached +to the bone. When I moved harsh lances of pain drove through my chest. + +"Well, until sunset I have no right to ask you to trust me," said +Dallisa when she had done laughing. "And since you are bound by my +command until the last ray has fallen, I command that you lay your head +upon my knees." + +I blazed, "You are making a game of me!" + +"Is that my privilege? Do you refuse?" + +"Refuse?" It was not yet sunset. This might be a torture more complex +than any which had yet greeted me. From the scarlet glint in her eyes I +felt she was playing with me, as the cat-things of the forest play with +their helpless victims. My mouth twitched in a grimace of humiliation as +I lowered myself obediently until my head rested on her fur-clad knees. + +She murmured, smiling, "Is this so unbearable, then?" + +I said nothing. Never, never for an instant could I forget that--all +human, all woman as she seemed--Dallisa's race was worn and old when the +Terran Empire had not left their home star. The mind of Wolf, which has +mingled with the nonhuman since before the beginnings of recorded time, +is unfathomable to an outsider. I was better equipped than most Earthmen +to keep pace with its surface acts, but I could never pretend to +understand its deeper motivations. + +It works on complex and irrational logic. Mischief is an integral part +of it. Even the deadly blood-feud with Rakhal had begun with an +overelaborate practical joke--which had lost the Service, incidentally, +several thousand credits worth of spaceship. + +And so I could not trust Dallisa for an instant. Yet it was wonderful to +lie here with my head resting against the perfumed softness of her body. + +Then suddenly her arms were gripping me, frantic and hungry; the subdued +thing in her voice, her eyes, flamed out hot and wild. She was pressing +the whole length of her body to mine, breasts and thighs and long legs, +and her voice was hoarse. + +"Is this torture too?" + +Beneath the fur robe she was soft and white, and the subtle scent of her +hair seemed a deeper entrapment than any. Frail as she seemed, her arms +had the strength of steel, and pain blazed down my wrenched shoulders, +seared through the twisted wrists. Then I forgot the pain. + +Over her shoulder the last dropping redness of the sun vanished and +plunged the room into orchid twilight. + +I caught her wrists in my hands, prizing them backward, twisting them +upward over her head. I said thickly, "The sun's down." And then I +stopped her wild mouth with mine. + +And I knew that the battle between us had reached climax and victory +simultaneously, and any question about who had won it was purely +academic. + + * * * * * + +During the night sometime, while her dark head lay motionless on my +shoulder, I found myself staring into the darkness, wakeful. The +throbbing of my bruises had little to do with my sleeplessness; I was +remembering other chained girls from the old days in the Dry-towns, and +the honey and poison of them distilled into Dallisa's kisses. Her head +was very light on my shoulders, and she felt curiously insubstantial, +like a woman of feathers. + +One of the tiny moons was visible through the slitted windows. I thought +of my rooms in the Terran Trade City, clean and bright and warm, and all +the nights when I had paced the floor, hating, filled to the teeth with +bitterness, longing for the windswept stars of the Dry-towns, the salt +smell of the winds and the musical clashing of the walk of the chained +women. + +With a sting of guilt, I realized that I had half forgotten Juli and my +pledge to her and her misfortune which had freed me again, for this. + +Yet I had won, and what they knew had narrowed my planet-wide search to +a pinpoint. Rakhal was in Charin. + +I wasn't altogether surprised. Charin is the only city on Wolf, except +the Kharsa, where the Terran Empire has put down deep roots into the +planet, built a Trade City, a smaller spaceport. Like the Kharsa, it +lies within the circle of Terran law--and a million miles outside it. + +A nonhuman town, inhabited largely by _chaks_, it is the core and center +of the resistance movement, a noisy town in a perpetual ferment. It was +the logical place for a renegade. I settled myself so that the ache in +my racked shoulders was less violent, and muttered, "Why Charin?" + +Slight as the movement was, it roused Dallisa. She rolled over and +propped herself on her elbows, quoting drowsily, "The prey walks safest +at the hunter's door." + +I stared at the square of violet moonlight, trying to fit together all +the pieces of the puzzle, and asked half aloud, "What prey and what +hunters?" + +Dallisa didn't answer. I hadn't expected her to answer. I asked the real +question in my mind: "Why does Kyral hate Rakhal Sensar, when he doesn't +even know him by sight?" + +"There are reasons," she said somberly. "One of them is Miellyn, my twin +sister. Kyral climbed the steps of the Great House by claiming us both +as his consorts. He is our father's son by another wife." + +That explained much. Brother-and-sister marriages, not uncommon in the +Dry-towns, are based on expediency and suspicion, and are frequently, +though not always loveless. It explained Dallisa's taunts, and it partly +explained, only partly, why I found her in my arms. It did not explain +Rakhal's part in this mysterious intrigue, nor why Kyral had taken me +for Rakhal, (but only after he remembered seeing me in Terran clothing). + +I wondered why it had never occurred to me before that I might be +mistaken for Rakhal. There was no close resemblance between us, but a +casual description would apply equally well to me or to Rakhal. My +height is unusual for a Terran--within an inch of Rakhal's own--and we +had roughly the same build, the same coloring. I had copied his walk, +imitated his mannerisms, since we were boys together. + +And, blurring minor facial characteristics, there were the scars of the +_kifirgh_ on my mouth, cheeks, and shoulders. Anyone who did not know us +by sight, anyone who had known us by reputation from the days when we +had worked together in the Dry-towns, might easily take one of us for +the other. Even Juli had blurted, "You're so much like--" before +thinking better of it. + +Other odd bits of the puzzle floated in my mind, stubbornly refusing to +take on recognizable patterns, the disappearance of a toy-seller; Juli's +hysterical babbling; the way the girl--Miellyn?--had vanished into a +shrine of Nebran; and the taunts of Dallisa and the old man about a +mysterious "Toymaker." And something, some random joggling of a memory, +in that eerie trading in the city of the Silent Ones. I knew all these +things fitted together somehow, but I had no real hope that Dallisa +could complete their pattern for me. + +She said, with a vehemence that startled me, "Miellyn is only the +excuse! Kyral hates Rakhal because Rakhal will compromise and because +he'll fight!" + +She rolled over and pressed herself against me in the darkness. Her +voice trembled. "Race, our world is dying. We can't stand against Terra. +And there are other things, worse things." + +I sat up, surprised to find myself defending Terra to this girl. After +all these years I was back in my own world. And yet I heard myself say +quietly, "The Terrans aren't exploiting Wolf. We haven't abolished the +rule of Shainsa. We've changed nothing." + +It was true. Terra held Wolf by compact, not conquest. They paid, and +paid generously, for the lease of the lands where their Trade Cities +would rise, and stepped beyond them only when invited to do so. + +"We let any city or state that wants to keep its independence govern +itself until it collapses, Dallisa. And they do collapse after a +generation or so. Very few primitive planets can hold out against us. +The people themselves get tired of living under feudal or theocratic +systems, and they beg to be taken into the Empire. That's all." + +"But that's just it," Dallisa argued. "You give the people all those +things we used to give them, and you do it better. Just by being here, +you are killing the Dry-towns. They're turning to you and leaving us, +and you let them do it." + +I shook my head. "We've kept the Terran Peace for centuries. What do you +expect? Should we give you arms, planes, bombs, weapons to hold your +slaves down?" + +"Yes!" she flared at me. "The Dry-towns have ruled Wolf +since--since--you, you can't even imagine how long! And we made compact +with you to trade here--" + +"And we have rewarded you by leaving you untouched," I said quietly. +"But we have not forbidden the Dry-towns to come into the Empire and +work with Terra." + +She said bitterly, "Men like Kyral will die first," and pressed her face +helplessly against me. "And I will die with them. Miellyn broke away, +but I cannot! Courage is what I lack. Our world is rotten, Race, rotten +all through, and I'm as rotten as the core of it. I could have killed +you today, and I'm here in your arms. Our world is rotten, but I've no +confidence that the new world will be better!" + +I put my hand under her chin, and looked down gravely into her face, +only a pale oval in the darkness. There was nothing I could say; she had +said it all, and truthfully. I had hated and yearned and starved for +this, and when I found it, it turned salty and bloody on my lips, like +Dallisa's despairing kisses. She ran her fingers over the scars on my +face, then gripped her small thin hands around my wrists so fiercely +that I grunted protest. + +"You will not forget me," she said in her strangely lilting voice. "You +will not forget me, although you were victorious." She twisted and lay +looking up at me, her eyes glowing faintly luminous in darkness. I knew +that she could see me as clearly as if it were day. "I think it was my +victory, not yours, Race Cargill." + +Gently, on an impulse I could not explain, I picked up one delicate +wrist, then the other, unclasping the heavy jeweled bracelets. She let +out a stifled cry of dismay. And then I tossed the chains into a corner +before I drew her savagely into my arms again and forced her head back +under my mouth. + + * * * * * + +I said good-bye to her alone, in the reddish, windswept space before the +Great House. She pressed her head against my shoulder and whispered, +"Race, take me with you!" + +For answer I only picked up her narrow wrists and turned them over on my +palm. The jeweled bracelets were clasped again around the thinly boned +joints, and on some self-punishing impulse she had shortened the chains +so that she could not even put her arms around me. I lifted the punished +wrists to my mouth and kissed them gently. + +"You don't want to leave, Dallisa." + +I was desperately sorry for her. She would go down with her dying world, +proud and cold and with no place in the new one. She kissed me and I +tasted blood, her thin fettered body straining wildly against me, shaken +with tearing, convulsive sobs. Then she turned and fled back into the +shadow of the great dark house. + +I never saw her again. + + + + +CHAPTER TEN + + +A few days later I found myself nearing the end of the trail. + +It was twilight in Charin, hot and reeking with the gypsy glare of fires +which burned, smoking, at the far end of the Street of the Six +Shepherds. I crouched in the shadow of a wall, waiting. + +My skin itched from the dirty shirtcloak I hadn't changed in days. +Shabbiness is wise in nonhuman parts, and Dry-towners think too much of +water to waste much of it in superfluous washing anyhow. I scratched +unobtrusively and glanced cautiously down the street. + +It seemed empty, except for a few sodden derelicts sprawled in +doorways--the Street of the Six Shepherds is a filthy slum--but I made +sure my skean was loose. Charin is not a particularly safe town, even +for Dry-towners, and especially not for Earthmen, at any time. + +Even with what Dallisa had told me, the search had been difficult. +Charin is not Shainsa. In Charin, where human and nonhuman live closer +together than anywhere else on the planet, information about such men as +Rakhal can be bought, but the policy is to let the buyer beware. That's +fair enough, because the life of the seller has a way of not being worth +much afterward, either. + +A dirty, dust-laden wind was blowing up along the street, heavy with +strange smells. The pungent reek of incense from a street-shrine was in +the smells. The heavy, acrid odor that made my skin crawl. In the hills +behind Charin, the Ghost Wind was rising. + +Borne on this wind, the Ya-men would sweep down from the mountains, and +everything human or nearly human would scatter in their path. They would +range through the quarter all night, and in the morning they would melt +away, until the Ghost Wind blew again. At any other time, I would +already have taken cover. I fancied that I could hear, borne on the +wind, the faraway yelping, and envision the plumed, taloned figures +which would come leaping down the street. + +In that moment, the quiet of the street split asunder. + +From somewhere a girl's voice screamed in shrill pain or panic. Then I +saw her, dodging between two of the chinked pebble-houses. She was a +child, thin and barefoot, a long tangle of black hair flying loose as +she darted and twisted to elude the lumbering fellow at her heels. His +outstretched paw jerked cruelly at her slim wrist. + +The little girl screamed and wrenched herself free and threw herself +straight on me, wrapping herself around my neck with the violence of a +storm wind. Her hair got in my mouth and her small hands gripped at my +back like a cat's flexed claws. + +"Oh, help me," she gasped between sobs. "Don't let him get me, don't." +And even in that broken plea I took it in that the little ragamuffin did +not speak the jargon of that slum, but the pure speech of Shainsa. + +What I did then was as automatic as if it had been Juli. I pulled the +kid loose, shoved her behind me, and scowled at the brute who lurched +toward us. + +"Make yourself scarce," I advised. "We don't chase little girls where I +come from. Haul off, now." + +The man reeled. I smelled the rankness of his rags as he thrust one +grimy paw at the girl. I never was the hero type, but I'd started +something which I had to carry through. I thrust myself between them and +put my hand on the skean again. + +"You--you Dry-towner." The man set up a tipsy howl, and I sucked in my +breath. Now I was in for it. Unless I got out of there damned fast, I'd +lose what I'd come all the way to Charin to find. + +I felt like handing the girl over. For all I knew, the bully could be +her father and she was properly in line for a spanking. This wasn't any +of my business. My business lay at the end of the street, where Rakhal +was waiting at the fires. He wouldn't be there long. Already the smell +of the Ghost Wind was heavy and harsh, and little flurries of sand went +racing along the street, lifting the flaps of the doorways. + +But I did nothing so sensible. The big lunk made a grab at the girl, and +I whipped out my skean and pantomimed. + +"Get going!" + +"Dry-towner!" He spat out the word like filth, his pig-eyes narrowing to +slits. "Son of the Ape! _Earthman!_" + +"_Terranan!_" Someone took up the howl. There was a stir, a rustle, all +along the street that had seemed empty, and from nowhere, it seemed, the +space in front of me was crowded with shadowy forms, human and +otherwise. + +"Earthman!" + +I felt the muscles across my belly knotting into a band of ice. I didn't +believe I'd given myself away as an Earthman. The bully was using the +time-dishonored tactic of stirring up a riot in a hurry, but just the +same I looked quickly round, hunting a path of escape. + +"Put your skean in his guts, Spilkar! Grab him!" + +"Hai-ai! Earthman! _Hai-ai!_" + +It was the last cry that made me panic. Through the sultry glare at the +end of the street, I could see the plumed, taloned figures of the +Ya-men, gliding through the banners of smoke. The crowd melted open. + +I didn't stop to reflect on the fact--suddenly very obvious--that Rakhal +couldn't have been at the fires at all, and that my informant had led me +into an open trap, a nest of Ya-men already inside Charin. The crowd +edged back and muttered, and suddenly I made my choice. I whirled, +snatched up the girl in my arms and ran straight toward the advancing +figures of the Ya-men. + +Nobody followed me. I even heard a choked shout that sounded like a +warning. I heard the yelping shrieks of the Ya-men grow to a wild howl, +and at the last minute, when their stiff rustling plumes loomed only a +few yards away, I dived sidewise into an alley, stumbled on some rubbish +and spilled the girl down. + +"Run, kid!" + +She shook herself like a puppy climbing out of water. Her small fingers +closed like a steel trap on my wrist. "This way," she urged in a hasty +whisper, and I found myself plunging out the far end of the alley and +into the shelter of a street-shrine. The sour stink of incense smarted +in my nostrils, and I could hear the yelping of the Ya-men as they +leaped and rustled down the alley, their cold and poisonous eyes +searching out the recess where I crouched with the girl. + +"Here," she panted, "stand close to me on the stone--" I drew back, +startled. + +"Oh, don't stop to argue," she whimpered. "Come _here_!" + +"_Hai-ai!_ Earthman! There he is!" + +The girl's arms flung round me again. I felt her slight, hard body +pressing on mine and she literally hauled me toward the pattern of +stones at the center of the shrine. I wouldn't have been human if I +hadn't caught her closer yet. + +The world reeled. The street disappeared in a cone of spinning lights, +stars danced crazily, and I plunged down through a widening gulf of +empty space, locked in the girl's arms. I fell, spun, plunged head over +heels through tilting lights and shadows that flung us through +eternities of freefall. The yelping of the Ya-men whirled away in +unimaginable distances, and for a second I felt the unmerciful blackout +of a power dive, with blood breaking from my nostrils and filling my +mouth. + + + + +CHAPTER ELEVEN + + +Lights flared in my eyes. + +I was standing solidly on my feet in the street-shrine, but the street +was gone. Coils of incense still smudged the air. The God squatted +toadlike in his recess. The girl was hanging limp, locked in my clenched +arms. As the floor straightened under my feet I staggered, thrown off +balance by the sudden return of the girl's weight, and grabbed blindly +for support. + +"Give her to me," said a voice, and the girl's sagging body was lifted +from my arms. A strong hand grasped my elbow. I found a chair beneath my +knees and sank gratefully into it. + +"The transmission isn't smooth yet between such distant terminals," the +voice remarked. "I see Miellyn has fainted again. A weakling, the girl, +but useful." + +I spat blood, trying to get the room in focus. For I was inside a room, +a room of some translucent substance, windowless, a skylight high above +me, through which pink daylight streamed. Daylight--and it had been +midnight in Charin! I'd come halfway around the planet in a few seconds! + +From somewhere I heard the sound of hammering, tiny, bell-like +hammering, the chiming of a fairy anvil. I looked up and saw a man--a +man?--watching me. + +On Wolf you see all kinds of human, half-human and nonhuman life, and I +consider myself something of an expert on all three. But I had never +seen anyone, or anything, who so closely resembled the human and so +obviously wasn't. He, or it, was tall and lean, man-shaped but oddly +muscled, a vague suggestion of something less than human in the lean +hunch of his posture. + +Manlike, he wore green tight-fitting trunks and a shirt of green fur +that revealed bulging biceps where they shouldn't be, and angular planes +where there should have been swelling muscles. The shoulders were high, +the neck unpleasantly sinuous, and the face, a little narrower than +human, was handsomely arrogant, with a kind of wary alert mischief that +was the least human thing about him. + +He bent, tilted the girl's inert body on to a divan of some sort, and +turned his back on her, lifting his hand in an impatient, and +unpleasantly reminiscent, gesture. + +The tinkling of the little hammers stopped as if a switch had been +disconnected. + +"Now," said the nonhuman, "we can talk." + +Like the waif, he spoke Shainsan, and spoke it with a better accent than +any nonhuman I had ever known--so well that I looked again to be +certain. I wasn't too dazed to answer in the same tongue, but I couldn't +keep back a spate of questions: + +"What happened? Who are you? What is this place?" + +The nonhuman waited, crossing his hands--quite passable hands, if you +didn't look too closely at what should have been nails--and bent forward +in a sketchy gesture. + +"Do not blame Miellyn. She acted under orders. It was imperative you be +brought here tonight, and we had reason to believe you might ignore an +ordinary summons. You were clever at evading our surveillance, for a +time. But there would not be two Dry-towners in Charin tonight who would +dare the Ghost Wind. Your reputation does you justice, Rakhal Sensar." + +_Rakhal Sensar!_ Once again Rakhal! + +Shaken, I pulled a rag from my pocket and wiped blood from my mouth. I'd +figured out, in Shainsa, why the mistake was logical. And here in Charin +I'd been hanging around in Rakhal's old haunts, covering his old trails. +Once again, mistaken identity was natural. + +Natural or not, I wasn't going to deny it. If these were Rakhal's +enemies, my real identity should be kept as an ace in reserve which +might--just might--get me out alive again. If they were his friends ... +well, I could only hope that no one who knew him well by sight would +walk in on me. + +"We knew," the nonhuman continued, "that if you remained where you +were, the _Terranan_ Cargill would have made his arrest. We know about +your quarrel with Cargill, among other things, but we did not consider +it necessary that you should fall into his hands at present." + +I was puzzled. "I still don't understand. Exactly where am I?" + +"This is the mastershrine of Nebran." + +_Nebran!_ + +The stray pieces of the puzzle suddenly jolted into place. Kyral had +warned me, not knowing he was doing it. I hastily imitated the gesture +Kyral had made, gabbling a few words of an archaic charm. + +Like every Earthman who's lived on Wolf more than a tourist season, I'd +seen faces go blank and impassive at mention of the Toad God. Rumor made +his spies omnipresent, his priests omniscient, his anger all-powerful. I +had believed about a tenth of what I had heard, or less. + +The Terran Empire has little to say to planetary religions, and Nebran's +cult is a remarkably obscure one, despite the street-shrines on every +corner. Now I was in his mastershrine, and the device which had brought +me here was beyond doubt a working model of a matter transmitter. + +A matter transmitter, a working model--the words triggered memory. +Rakhal was after it. + +"And who," I asked slowly, "are you, Lord?" + +The green-clad creature hunched thin shoulders again in a ceremonious +gesture. "I am called Evarin. Humble servant of Nebran and yourself," he +added, but there was no humility in his manner. "I am called the +Toymaker." + +_Evarin._ That was another name given weight by rumor. A breath of +gossip in a thieves market. A scrawled word on smudged paper. A blank +folder in Terran Intelligence. Another puzzle-piece snapped into +place--_Toymaker_! + +The girl on the divan sat up suddenly passing slim hands over her +disheveled hair. "Did I faint, Evarin? I had to fight to get him into +the stone, and the patterns were not set straight in that terminal. You +must send one of the Little Ones to set them to rights. Toymaker, you +are not listening to me." + +"Stop chattering, Miellyn," said Evarin indifferently. "You brought him +here, and that is all that matters. You aren't hurt?" + +Miellyn pouted and looked ruefully at her bare bruised feet, patted the +wrinkles in her ragged frock with fastidious fingers. "My poor feet," +she mourned, "they are black and blue with the cobbles and my hair is +filled with sand and tangles! Toymaker, what way was this to send me to +entice a man? Any man would have come quickly, quickly, if he had seen +me looking lovely, but you--you send me in rags!" + +She stamped a small bare foot. She was not merely as young as she had +looked in the street. Though immature and underdeveloped by Terran +standards, she had a fair figure for a Dry-town woman. Her rags fell now +in graceful folds. Her hair was spun black glass, and I--I saw what the +rags and the confusion in the filthy street had kept me from seeing +before. + +It was the girl of the spaceport cafe, the girl who had appeared and +vanished in the eerie streets of Canarsa. + +Evarin was regarding her with what, in a human, might have been rueful +impatience. He said, "You know you enjoyed yourself, as always, Miellyn. +Run along and make yourself beautiful again, little nuisance." + +The girl danced out of the room, and I was just as glad to see her go. +The Toymaker motioned to me. + +"This way," he directed, and led me through a different door. The +offstage hammering I had heard, tiny bell tones like a fairy xylophone, +began again as the door opened, and we passed into a workroom which made +me remember nursery tales from a half-forgotten childhood on Terra. For +the workers were tiny, gnarled _trolls_! + +They were _chaks_. _Chaks_ from the polar mountains, dwarfed and furred +and half-human, with witchlike faces and great golden eyes, and I had +the curious feeling that if I looked hard enough I would see the little +toy-seller they had hunted out of the Kharsa. I didn't look. I figured I +was in enough trouble already. + +Tiny hammers pattered on miniature anvils in a tinkling, jingling chorus +of musical clinks and taps. Golden eyes focused like lenses over winking +jewels and gimcracks. Busy elves. Makers of toys! + +Evarin jerked his shoulders with an imperative gesture. I followed him +through a fairy workroom, but could not refrain from casting a lingering +look at the worktables. A withered leprechaun set eyes into the head of +a minikin hound. Furred fingers worked precious metals into invisible +filigree for the collarpiece of a dancing doll. Metallic feathers were +thrust with clockwork precision into the wings of a skeleton bird no +longer than my fingernail. The nose of the hound wabbled and sniffed, +the bird's wings quivered, the eyes of the little dancer followed my +footsteps. + +Toys? + +"This way," Evarin rapped, and a door slid shut behind us. The clinks +and taps grew faint, fainter, but never ceased. + +My face must have betrayed more than conventional impassivity, for +Evarin smiled. "Now you know, Rakhal, why I am called Toymaker. Is it +not strange--the masterpriest of Nebran, a maker of Toys, and the shrine +of the Toad God a workshop for children's playthings?" + +Evarin paused suggestively. They were obviously not children's +playthings and this was my cue to say so, but I avoided the trap. Evarin +opened a sliding panel and took out a doll. + +She was perhaps the length of my longest finger, molded to the precise +proportions of a woman, and costumed after the bizarre fashion of the +Ardcarran dancing girls. Evarin touched no button or key that I could +see, but when he set the figure on its feet, it executed a whirling, +armtossing dance in a fast, tricky tempo. + +"I am, in a sense, benevolent," Evarin murmured. He snapped his fingers +and the doll sank to her knees and poised there, silent. "Moreover, I +have the means and, let us say, the ability to indulge my small +fantasies. + +"The little daughter of the President of the Federation of Trade Cities +on Samarra was sent such a doll recently. What a pity that Paolo +Arimengo was so suddenly impeached and banished!" The Toymaker clucked +his teeth commiseratingly. "Perhaps this small companion will compensate +the little Carmela for her adjustment to her new ... position." + +He replaced the dancer and pulled down something like a whirligig. "This +might interest you," he mused, and set it spinning. I stared at the +pattern of lights that flowed and disappeared, melting in and out of +visible shadows. Suddenly I realized what the thing was doing. I +wrested my eyes away with an effort. Had there been a lapse of seconds +or minutes? Had Evarin spoken? + +Evarin arrested the compelling motion with one finger. "Several of these +pretty playthings are available to the children of important men," he +said absently. "An import of value for our exploited and impoverished +world. Unfortunately they are, perhaps, a little ... ah, obvious. The +incidence of nervous breakdowns is, ah, interfering with their sale. The +children, of course, are unaffected, and love them." Evarin set the +hypnotic wheel moving again, glanced sidewise at me, then set it +carefully back. + +"Now"--Evarin's voice, hard with the silkiness of a cat's snarl, clawed +the silence--"we'll talk business." + +I turned, composing my face. Evarin had something concealed in one hand, +but I didn't think it was a weapon. And if I'd known, I'd have had to +ignore it anyway. + +"Perhaps you wonder how we recognized and found you?" A panel cleared in +the wall and became translucent. Confused flickers moved, dropped into +focus and I realized that the panel was an ordinary television screen +and I was looking into the well-known interior of the Cafe of Three +Rainbows in the Trade City of Charin. + +By this time I was running low on curiosity and didn't wonder till much, +much later how televised pictures were transmitted around the curve of a +planet. Evarin sharpened the focus down on the long Earth-type bar where +a tall man in Terran clothes was talking to a pale-haired girl. Evarin +said, "By now, Race Cargill has decided, no doubt, that you fell into +his trap and into the hands of the Ya-men. He is off-guard now." + +And suddenly the whole thing seemed so unbearably, illogically funny +that my shoulders shook with the effort to keep back dangerous laughter. +Since I'd landed in Charin, I'd taken great pains to avoid the Trade +City, or anyone who might have associated me with it. And Rakhal, +somehow aware of this, had conveniently filled up the gap. By posing as +me. + +It wasn't nearly as difficult as it sounded. I had found that out in +Shainsa. Charin is a long, long way from the major Trade City near the +Kharsa. I hadn't a single intimate friend there, or within hundreds of +miles, to see through the imposture. At most, there were half a dozen of +the staff that I'd once met, or had a drink with, eight or ten years +ago. + +Rakhal could speak perfect Standard when he chose; if he lapsed into +Dry-town idiom, that too was in my known character. I had no doubt he +was making a great success of it all, probably doing much better with my +identity than I could ever have done with his. + +Evarin rasped, "Cargill meant to leave the planet. What stopped him? You +could be of use to us, Rakhal. But not with this blood-feud unsettled." + +That needed no elucidation. No Wolfan in his right mind will bargain +with a Dry-towner carrying an unresolved blood-feud. By law and custom, +declared blood-feud takes precedence over any other business, public or +private, and is sufficient excuse for broken promises, neglected duties, +theft, even murder. + +"We want it settled once and for all." Evarin's voice was low and +unhurried. "And we aren't above weighting the scales. This Cargill can, +and has, posed as a Dry-towner, undetected. We don't like Earthmen who +can do that. In settling your feud, you will be aiding us, and removing +a danger. We would be ... grateful." + +He opened his closed hand, displaying something small, curled, inert. + +"Every living thing emits a characteristic pattern of electrical nerve +impulses. We have ways of recording those impulses, and we have had you +and Cargill under observation for a long time. We've had plenty of +opportunity to key this Toy to Cargill's pattern." + +On his palm the curled thing stirred, spread wings. A fledgling bird lay +there, small soft body throbbing slightly. Half-hidden in a ruff of +metallic feathers I glimpsed a grimly elongated beak. The pinions were +feathered with delicate down less than a quarter of an inch long. They +beat with delicate insistence against the Toymaker's prisoning fingers. + +"This is not dangerous to you. Press here"--he showed me--"and if Race +Cargill is within a certain distance--and it is up to you to be _within_ +that distance--it will find him, and kill him. Unerringly, inescapably, +untraceably. We will not tell you the critical distance. And we will +give you three days." + +He checked my startled exclamation with a gesture. "Of course this is a +test. Within the hour Cargill will receive a warning. We want no +incompetents who must be helped too much! Nor do we want cowards! If you +fail, or release the bird at a distance too great, or evade the +test"--the green inhuman malice in his eyes made me sweat--"we have made +another bird." + +By now my brain was swimming, but I thought I understood the complex +inhuman logic involved. "The other bird is keyed to me?" + +With slow contempt Evarin shook his head. "You? You are used to danger +and fond of a gamble. Nothing so simple! We have given you three days. +If, within that time, the bird you carry has not killed, the other bird +will fly. And it will kill. Rakhal, you have a wife." + +Yes, Rakhal had a wife. They could threaten Rakhal's wife. And his wife +was my sister Juli. + +Everything after that was anticlimax. Of course I had to drink with +Evarin, the elaborate formal ritual without which no bargain on Wolf is +concluded. He entertained me with gory and technical descriptions of the +way in which the birds, and other of his hellish Toys, did their +killing, and worse tasks. + +Miellyn danced into the room and upset the exquisite solemnity of the +wine-ritual by perching on my knee, stealing a sip from my cup, and +pouting prettily when I paid her less attention than she thought she +merited. I didn't dare pay much attention, even when she whispered, with +the deliberate and thorough wantonness of a Dry-town woman of high-caste +who has flung aside her fetters, something about a rendezvous at the +Three Rainbows. + +But eventually it was over and I stepped through a door that twisted +with a giddy blankness, and found myself outside a bare windowless wall +in Charin again, the night sky starred and cold. The acrid smell of the +Ghost Wind was thinning in the streets, but I had to crouch in a cranny +of the wall when a final rustling horde of Ya-men, the last of their +receding tide, rustled down the street. I found my way to my lodging in +a filthy _chak_ hostel, and threw myself down on the verminous bed. + +Believe it or not, I slept. + + + + +CHAPTER TWELVE + + +An hour before dawn there was a noise in my room. I roused, my hand on +my skean. Someone or something was fumbling under the mattress where I +had thrust Evarin's bird. I struck out, encountered something warm and +breathing, and grappled with it in the darkness. A foul-smelling +something gripped over my mouth. I tore it away and struck hard with the +skean. There was a high shrilling. The gripping filth loosened and fell +away and something died on the floor. + +I struck a light, retching in revulsion. It hadn't been human. There +wouldn't have been that much blood from a human. Not that color, either. + +The _chak_ who ran the place came and gibbered at me. _Chaks_ have a +horror of blood and this one gave me to understand that my lease was up +then and there, no arguments, no refunds. He wouldn't even let me go +into his stone outbuilding to wash the foul stuff from my shirtcloak. I +gave up and fished under the mattress for Evarin's Toy. + +The _chak_ got a glimpse of the embroideries on the silk in which it was +wrapped, and stood back, his loose furry lips hanging open, while I +gathered my few belongings together and strode out of the room. He would +not touch the coins I offered; I laid them on a chest and he let them +lie there, and as I went into the reddening morning they came flying +after me into the street. + +I pulled the silk from the Toy and tried to make some sense from my +predicament. The little thing lay innocent and silent in my palm. It +wouldn't tell me whether it had been keyed to me, the real Cargill, some +time in the past, or to Rakhal, using my name and reputation in the +Terran Colony here at Charin. + +If I pressed the stud it might play out this comedy of errors by hunting +down Rakhal, and all my troubles would be over. For a while, at least, +until Evarin found out what had happened. I didn't deceive myself that I +could carry the impersonation through another meeting. + +On the other hand, if I pressed the stud, the bird might turn on me. And +then all my troubles would be over for good. + +If I delayed past Evarin's deadline, and did nothing, the other bird in +his keeping would hunt down Juli and give her a swift and not too +painless death. + +I spent most of the day in a _chak_ dive, juggling plans. Toys, innocent +and sinister. Spies, messengers. Toys which killed horribly. Toys which +could be controlled, perhaps, by the pliant mind of a child, and every +child hates its parents now and again! + +Even in the Terran colony, who was safe? In Mack's very home, one of the +Magnusson youngsters had a shiny thing which might, or might not, be one +of Evarin's hellish Toys. Or was I beginning to think like a +superstitious Dry-towner? + +Damn it, Evarin couldn't be infallible; he hadn't even recognized me as +Race Cargill! Or--suddenly the sweat broke out, again, on my +forehead--_or had he_? Had the whole thing been one of those sinister, +deadly and incomprehensible nonhuman jokes? + +I kept coming to the same conclusion. Juli was in danger, but she was +half a world away. Rakhal was here in Charin. There was a child +involved--Juli's child. The first step was to get inside the Terran +colony and see how the land lay. + +Charin is a city shaped like a crescent moon, encircling the small Trade +City: a miniature spaceport, a miniature skyscraper HQ, the clustered +dwellings of the Terrans who worked there, and those who lived with them +and supplied them with necessities, services and luxuries. + +Entry from one to the other is through a guarded gateway, since this is +hostile territory, and Charin lies far beyond the impress of ordinary +Terran law. But the gate stood wide-open, and the guards looked lax and +bored. They had shockers, but they didn't look as if they'd used them +lately. + +One raised an eyebrow at his companion as I shambled up. I could pretty +well guess the impression I made, dirty, unkempt and stained with +nonhuman blood. I asked permission to go into the Terran Zone. + +They asked my name and business, and I toyed with the notion of giving +the name of the man I was inadvertently impersonating. Then I decided +that if Rakhal had passed himself off as Race Cargill, he'd expect +exactly that. And he was also capable of the masterstroke of +impudence--putting out a pickup order, through Spaceforce, for his own +name! + +So I gave the name we'd used from Shainsa to Charin, and tacked one of +the Secret Service passwords on the end of it. They looked at each other +again and one said, "Rascar, eh? This is the guy, all right." He took me +into the little booth by the gate while the other used an intercom +device. Presently they took me along into the HQ building, and into an +office that said "Legate." + +I tried not to panic, but it wasn't easy! Evidently I'd walked square +into another trap. One guard asked me, "All right, now, what exactly is +your business in the Trade City?" + +I'd hoped to locate Rakhal first. Now I knew I'd have no chance and at +all costs I must straighten out this matter of identity before it went +any further. + +"Put me straight through to Magnusson's office, Level 38 at Central HQ, +by visi," I demanded. I was trying to remember if Mack had ever even +heard the name we used in Shainsa. I decided I couldn't risk it. "Name +of Race Cargill." + +The guard grinned without moving. He said to his partner, "That's the +one, all right." He put a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. + +"Haul off, man. Shake your boots." + +There were two of them, and Spaceforce guards aren't picked for their +good looks. Just the same, I gave a pretty good account of myself until +the inner door opened and a man came storming out. + +"What the devil is all this racket?" + +One guard got a hammerlock on me. "This Dry-towner bum tried to talk us +into making a priority call to Magnusson, the Chief at Central. He knew +a couple of the S.S. passwords. That's what got him through the gate. +Remember, Cargill passed the word that somebody would turn up trying to +impersonate him." + +"I remember." The strange man's eyes were wary and cold. + +"You damned fools," I snarled. "Magnusson will identify me! Can't you +realize you're dealing with an impostor?" + +One of the guards said to the legate in an undertone, "Maybe we ought to +hold him as a suspicious character." But the legate shook his head. "Not +worth the trouble. Cargill said it was a private affair. You might +search him, make sure he's not concealing contraband weapons," he added, +and talked softly to the wide-eyed clerk in the background while the +guards went through my shirtcloak and pockets. + +When they started to unwrap the silk-shrouded Toy I yelled--if the thing +got set off accidentally, there'd be trouble. The legate turned and +rebuked, "Can't you see it's embroidered with the Toad God? It's a +religious amulet of some sort, let it alone." + +They grumbled, but gave it back to me, and the legate commanded, "Don't +mess him up any more. Give him back his knife and take him to the gates. +But make sure he doesn't come back." + +I found myself seized and frog-marched to the gate. One guard pushed my +skean back into its clasp. The other shoved me hard, and I stumbled, +fell sprawling in the dust of the cobbled street, to the accompaniment +of a profane statement about what I could expect if I came back. A +chorus of jeers from a cluster of _chak_ children and veiled women broke +across me. + +I picked myself up, glowered so fiercely at the giggling spectators that +the laughter drained away into silence, and clenched my fists, half +inclined to turn back and bull my way through. Then I subsided. First +round to Rakhal. He had sprung the trap on me, very neatly. + +The street was narrow and crooked, winding between doubled rows of +pebble-houses, and full of dark shadows even in the crimson noon. I +walked aimlessly, favoring the arm the guard had crushed. I was no +closer to settling things with Rakhal, and I had slammed at least one +gate behind me. + +Why hadn't I had sense enough to walk up and demand to _see_ Race +Cargill? Why hadn't I insisted on a fingerprint check? I could prove my +identity, and Rakhal, using my name in my absence, to those who didn't +know me by sight, couldn't. I could at least have made him try. But he +had maneuvered it very cleverly, so I never had a chance to insist on +proofs. + +I turned into a wineshop and ordered a dram of greenish mountainberry +liquor, sipping it slowly and fingering the few bills and coins in my +pockets. I'd better forget about warning Juli. I couldn't 'vise her from +Charin, except in the Terran zone. I had neither the money nor the time +to make the trip in person, even if I could get passage on a +Terran-dominated airline after today. + +Miellyn. She had flirted with me, and like Dallisa, she might prove +vulnerable. It might be another trap, but I'd take the chance. At least +I could get hints about Evarin. And I needed information. I wasn't used +to this kind of intrigue any more. The smell of danger was foreign to me +now, and I found it unpleasant. + +The small lump of the bird in my pocket tantalized me. I took it out +again. It was a temptation to press the stud and let it settle things, +or at least start them going, then and there. + +After a while I noticed the proprietors of the shop staring at the silk +of the wrappings. They backed off, apprehensive. I held out a coin and +they shook their heads. "You are welcome to the drink," one of them +said. "All we have is at your service. Only please go. Go quickly." + +They would not touch the coins I offered. I thrust the bird in my +pocket, swore and went. It was my second experience with being somehow +tabu, and I didn't like it. + +It was dusk when I realized I was being followed. + +At first it was a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, a head seen too +frequently for coincidence. It developed into a too-persistent footstep +in uneven rhythm. + +Tap-_tap_-tap. Tap-_tap_-tap. + +I had my skean handy, but I had a hunch this wasn't anything I could +settle with a skean. I ducked into a side street and waited. + +Nothing. + +I went on, laughing at my imagined fears. + +Then, after a time, the soft, persistent footfall thudded behind me +again. + +I cut across a thieves market, dodging from stall to stall, cursed by +old women selling hot fried goldfish, women in striped veils railing at +me in their chiming talk when I brushed their rolled rugs with hasty +feet. Far behind I heard the familiar uneven hurry: tap-_tap_-tap, +tap-_tap_-tap. + +I fled down a street where women sat on flower-decked balconies, their +open lanterns flowing with fountains and rivulets of gold and orange +fire. I raced through quiet streets where furred children crept to doors +and watched me pass with great golden eyes that shone in the dark. + +I dodged into an alley and lay there, breathing hard. Someone not two +inches away said, "Are you one of us, brother?" + +I muttered something surly, in his dialect, and a hand, reassuringly +human, closed on my elbow. "This way." + +Out of breath with long running, I let him lead me, meaning to break +away after a few steps, apologize for mistaken identity and vanish, when +a sound at the end of the street made me jerk stiff and listen. + +Tap-_tap_-tap. Tap-_tap_-tap. + +I let my arm relax in the hand that guided me, flung a fold of my +shirtcloak over my face, and went along with my unknown guide. + + + + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN + + +I stumbled over steps, took a jolting stride downward, and found myself +in a dim room jammed with dark figures, human and nonhuman. + +The figures swayed in the darkness, chanting in a dialect not altogether +familiar to me, a monotonous wailing chant, with a single recurrent +phrase: "Kamaina! Kama-aina!" It began on a high note, descending in +weird chromatics to the lowest tone the human ear could resolve. + +The sound made me draw back. Even the Dry-towners shunned the orgiastic +rituals of Kamaina. Earthmen have a reputation for getting rid of the +more objectionable customs--by human standards--on any planet where they +live. But they don't touch religions, and Kamaina, on the surface +anyhow, was a religion. + +I started to turn round and leave, as if I had inadvertently walked +through the wrong door, but my conductor hauled on my arm, and I was +wedged in too tight by now to risk a roughhouse. Trying to force my way +out would only have called attention to me, and the first of the Secret +Service maxims is; when in doubt, go along, keep quiet, and watch the +other guy. + +As my eyes adapted to the dim light, I saw that most of the crowd were +Charin plainsmen or _chaks_. One or two wore Dry-town shirtcloaks, and I +even thought I saw an Earthman in the crowd, though I was never sure and +I fervently hope not. They were squatting around small crescent-shaped +tables, and all intently gazing at a flickery spot of light at the front +of the cellar. I saw an empty place at one table and dropped there, +finding the floor soft, as if cushioned. + +On each table, small smudging pastilles were burning, and from these +cones of ash-tipped fire came the steamy, swimmy smoke that filled the +darkness with strange colors. Beside me an immature _chak_ girl was +kneeling, her fettered hands strained tightly back at her sides, her +naked breasts pierced for jeweled rings. + +Beneath the pallid fur around her pointed ears, the exquisite animal +face was quite mad. She whispered to me, but her dialect was so thick +that I could follow only a few words, and would just as soon not have +heard those few. An older _chak_ grunted for silence and she subsided, +swaying and crooning. + +There were cups and decanters on all the tables, and a woman tilted +pale, phosphorescent fluid into a cup and offered it to me. I took one +sip, then another. It was cold and pleasantly tart, and not until the +second swallow turned sweet on my tongue did I know what I tasted. I +pretended to swallow while the woman's eyes were fixed on me, then +somehow contrived to spill the filthy stuff down my shirt. + +I was wary even of the fumes, but there was nothing else I could do. The +stuff was _shallavan_, outlawed on every planet in the Terran Empire and +every halfway decent planet outside it. + +More and more figures, men and creatures, kept crowding into the cellar, +which was not very large. The place looked like the worst nightmare of a +drug-dreamer, ablaze with the colors of the smoking incense, the swaying +crowd, and their monotonous cries. Quite suddenly there was a blaze of +purple light and someone screamed in raving ecstasy: "_Na ki na Nebran +n'hai Kamaina!_" + +"Kamayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena!" shrilled the tranced mob. + +An old man jumped up and started haranguing the crowd. I could just +follow his dialect. He was talking about Terra. He was talking about +riots. He was jabbering mystical gibberish which I couldn't understand +and didn't want to understand, and rabble-rousing anti-Terran propaganda +which I understood much too well. + +Another blaze of lights and another long scream in chorus: +"Kamayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena!" + +Evarin stood in the blaze of the many-colored light. + +The Toymaker, as I had seen him last, cat-smooth, gracefully alien, +shrouded in a ripple of giddy crimsons. Behind him was a blackness. I +waited till the painful blaze of lights abated, then, straining my eyes +to see past him, I got my worst shock. + +A woman stood there, naked to the waist, her hands ritually fettered +with little chains that stirred and clashed musically as she moved +stiff-legged in a frozen dream. Hair like black grass banded her brow +and naked shoulders, and her eyes were crimson. + +And the eyes lived in the dead dreaming face. They lived, and they were +mad with terror although the lips curved in a gently tranced smile. + +Miellyn. + +Evarin was speaking in that dialect I barely understood. His arms were +flung high and his cloak went spilling away from them, rippling like +something alive. The jammed humans and nonhumans swayed and chanted and +he swayed above them like an iridescent bug, weaving arms rippling back +and forth, back and forth. I strained to catch his words. + +"Our world ... an old world." + +"Kamayeeeeena," whimpered the shrill chorus. + +"... humans, humans, all humans would make slaves of us all, all save +the Children of the Ape...." + +I lost the thread for a moment. True. The Terran Empire has one small +blind spot in otherwise sane policy, ignoring that nonhuman and human +have lived placidly here for millennia: they placidly assumed that +humans were everywhere the dominant race, as on Earth itself. + +The Toymaker's weaving arms went on spinning, spinning. I rubbed my eyes +to clear them of _shallavan_ and incense. I hoped that what I saw was an +illusion of the drug--something, something huge and dark, was hovering +over the girl. She stood placidly, hands clasped on her chains, but her +eyes writhed in the frozen calm of her face. + +Then something--I can only call it a sixth sense--bore it on me that +there was _someone_ outside the door. I was perhaps the only creature +there, except for Evarin, not drugged with _shallavan_, and perhaps +that's all it was. But during the days in the Secret Service I'd had to +develop some extra senses. Five just weren't enough for survival. + +I _knew_ somebody was fixing to break down that door, and I had a good +idea why. I'd been followed, by the legate's orders, and, tracking me +here, they'd gone away and brought back reinforcements. + +Someone struck a blow on the door and a stentorian voice bawled, "Open +up there, in the name of the Empire!" + +The chanting broke in ragged quavers. Evarin stopped. Somewhere a woman +screamed. The lights abruptly went out and a stampede started in the +room. Women struck me with chains, men kicked, there were shrieks and +howls. I thrust my way forward, butting with elbows and knees and +shoulders. + +A dusky emptiness yawned and I got a glimpse of sunlight and open sky +and knew that Evarin had stepped through into _somewhere_ and was gone. +The banging on the door sounded like a whole regiment of Spaceforce out +there. I dived toward the shimmer of little stars which marked Miellyn's +tiara in the darkness, braving the black horror hovering over her, and +touched rigid girl-flesh, cold as death. + +I grabbed her and ducked sideways. This time it wasn't intuition--nine +times out of ten, anyway, intuition is just a mental shortcut which adds +up all the things which your subconscious has noticed while you were +busy thinking about something else. Every native building on Wolf had +concealed entrances and exits and I know where to look for them. This +one was exactly where I expected. I pushed at it and found myself in a +long, dim corridor. + +The head of a woman peered from an opening door. She saw Miellyn's limp +body hanging on my arm and her mouth widened in a silent scream. Then +the head popped back out of sight and a door slammed. I heard the bolt +slide. I ran for the end of the hall, the girl in my arms, thinking that +this was where I came in, as far as Miellyn was concerned, and wondering +why I bothered. + +The door opened on a dark, peaceful street. One lonely moon was setting +beyond the rooftops. I set Miellyn on her feet, but she moaned and +crumpled against me. I put my shirtcloak around her bare shoulders. +Judging by the noises and yells, we'd gotten out just in time. No one +came out the exit behind us. Either the Spaceforce had plugged it or, +more likely, everyone else in the cellar had been too muddled by drugs +to know what was going on. + +But it was only a few minutes, I knew, before Spaceforce would check the +whole building for concealed escape holes. Suddenly, and irrelevantly, I +found myself thinking of a day not too long ago, when I'd stood up in +front of a unit-in-training of Spaceforce, introduced to them as an +Intelligence expert on native towns, and solemnly warned them about +concealed exits and entrances. I wondered, for half a minute, if it +might not be simpler just to wait here and let them pick me up. + +Then I hoisted Miellyn across my shoulders. She was heavier than she +looked, and after a minute, half conscious, she began to struggle and +moan. There was a _chak_-run cookshop down the street, a place I'd once +known well, with an evil reputation and worse food, but it was quiet and +stayed open all night. I turned in at the door, bending at the low +lintel. + +The place was smoke-filled and foul-smelling. I dumped Miellyn on a +couch and sent the frowsy waiter for two bowls of noodles and coffee, +handed him a few extra coins, and told him to leave us alone. He +probably drew the worst possible inference--I saw his muzzle twitch at +the smell of _shallavan_--but it was that kind of place anyhow. He drew +down the shutters and went. + +I stared at the unconscious girl, then shrugged and started on the +noodles. My own head was still swimmy with the fumes, incense and drug, +and I wanted it clear. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do, but +I had Evarin's right-hand girl, and I was going to use her. + +The noodles were greasy and had a curious taste, but they were hot, and +I ate all of one bowl before Miellyn stirred and whimpered and put up +one hand, with a little clinking of chains, to her hair. The gesture was +indefinably reminiscent of Dallisa, and for the first time I saw the +likeness between them. It made me wary and yet curiously softened. + +Finding she could not move freely, she rolled over, sat up and stared +around in growing bewilderment and dismay. + +"There was a sort of riot," I said. "I got you out. Evarin ditched you. +And you can quit thinking what you're thinking, I put my shirtcloak on +you because you were bare to the waist and it didn't look so good." I +stopped to think that over, and amended: "I mean I couldn't haul you +around the streets that way. It looked good enough." + +To my surprise, she gave a shaky little giggle, and held out her +fettered hands. "Will you?" + +I broke her links and freed her. She rubbed her wrists as if they hurt +her, then drew up her draperies, pinned them so that she was decently +covered, and tossed back my shirtcloak. Her eyes were wide and soft in +the light of the flickering stub of candle. + +"O, Rakhal," she sighed. "When I saw you there--" She sat up, clasping +her hands hard together, and when she continued her voice was curiously +cold and controlled for anyone so childish. It was almost as cold as +Dallisa's. + +"If you've come from Kyral, I'm not going back. I'll never go back, and +you may as well know it." + +"I don't come from Kyral, and I don't care where you go. I don't care +what you do." I suddenly realized that the last statement was wholly +untrue, and to cover my confusion I shoved the remaining bowl of noodles +at her. + +"Eat." + +She wrinkled her nose in fastidious disgust. "I'm not hungry." + +"Eat it anyway. You're still half doped, and the food will clear your +head." I picked up one mug of the coffee and drained it at a single +swallow. "What were you doing in that disgusting den?" + +Without warning she flung herself across the table at me, throwing her +arms round my neck. Startled, I let her cling a moment, then reached up +and firmly unfastened her hands. + +"None of that now. I fell for it once, and it landed me in the middle of +the mudpie." + +But her fingers bit my shoulder. + +"Rakhal, Rakhal, I tried to get away and find you. Have you still got +the bird? You haven't set it off yet? Oh, don't, don't, don't, Rakhal, +you don't know what Evarin is, you don't know what he's doing." The +words spilled out of her like floodwaters. "He's won so many of you, +don't let him have you too, Rakhal. They call you an honest man, you +worked once for Terra, the Terrans would believe you if you went to them +and told them what he--Rakhal, take me to the Terran Zone, take me +there, take me there where they'll protect me from Evarin." + +At first I tried to stop her, question her, then waited and let the +torrent of entreaty run on and on. At last, exhausted and breathless, +she lay quietly against my shoulder, her head fallen forward. The musty +reek of _shallavan_ mingled with the flower scent of her hair. + +"Kid," I said heavily at last, "you and your Toymaker have both got me +wrong. I'm not Rakhal Sensar." + +"You're not?" She drew back, regarding me in dismay. Her eyes searched +every inch of me, from the gray streak across my forehead to the scar +running down into my collar. "Then who--" + +"Race Cargill. Terran Intelligence." + +She stared, her mouth wide like a child's. + +Then she laughed. She _laughed_! At first I thought she was hysterical. +I stared at her in consternation. Then, as her wide eyes met mine, with +all the mischief of the nonhuman which has mingled into the human here, +all the circular complexities of Wolf illogic behind the woman in them, +I started to laugh too. + +I threw back my head and roared, until we were clinging together and +gasping with mirth like a pair of raving fools. The _chak_ waiter came +to the door and stared at us, and I roared "Get the hell out," between +spasms of crazy laughter. + +Then she was wiping her face, tears of mirth still dripping down her +cheeks, and I was frowning bleakly into the empty bowls. + +"Cargill," she said hesitantly, "you can take me to the Terrans where +Rakhal--" + +"Hell's bells," I exploded. "I can't take you anywhere, girl. I've got +to find Rakhal--" I stopped in midsentence and looked at her clearly for +the first time. + +"Child, I'll see that you're protected, if I can. But I'm afraid you've +walked from the trap to the cookpot. There isn't a house in Charin that +will hold me. I've been thrown out twice today." + +She nodded. "I don't know how the word spreads, but it happens, in +nonhuman parts. I think they can see trouble written in a human face, or +smell it on the wind." She fell silent, her face propped sleepily +between her hands, her hair falling in tangles. I took one of her hands +in mine and turned it over. + +It was a fine hand, with birdlike bones and soft rose-tinted nails; but +the lines and hardened places around the knuckles reminded me that she, +too, came from the cold austerity of the salt Dry-towns. After a moment +she flushed and drew her hand from mine. + +"What are you thinking, Cargill?" she asked, and for the first time I +heard her voice sobered, without the coquetry, which must after all have +been a very thin veneer. + +I answered her simply and literally. "I am thinking of Dallisa. I +thought you were very different, and yet, I see that you are very like +her." + +I thought she would question what I knew of her sister, but she let it +pass in silence. After a time she said, "Yes, we were twins." Then, +after a long silence, she added, "But she was always much the older." + +And that was all I ever knew of whatever obscure pressures had shaped +Dallisa into an austere and tragic Clytemnestra, and Miellyn into a +pixie runaway. + +Outside the drawn shutters, dawn was brightening. Miellyn shivered, +drawing her thin draperies around her bare throat. I glanced at the +little rim of jewels that starred her hair and said, "You'd better take +those off and hide them. They alone would be enough to have you hauled +into an alley and strangled, in this part of Charin." I hauled the bird +Toy from my pocket and slapped it on the greasy table, still wrapped in +its silk. "I don't suppose you know which of us this thing is set to +kill?" + +"I know nothing about the Toys." + +"You seem to know plenty about the Toymaker." + +"I thought so. Until last night." I looked at the rigid, clamped mouth +and thought that if she were really as soft and delicate as she looked, +she would have wept. Then she struck her small hand on the tabletop and +burst out, "It's not a religion. It isn't even an honest movement for +freedom! Its a--a front for smuggling, and drugs, and--and every other +filthy thing! + +"Believe it or not, when I left Shainsa, I thought Nebran was the answer +to the way the Terrans were strangling us! Now I know there are worse +things on Wolf than the Terran Empire! I've heard of Rakhal Sensar, and +whatever you may think of Rakhal, he's too decent to be mixed up in +anything like this!" + +"Suppose you tell me what's really going on," I suggested. She couldn't +add much to what I knew already, but the last fragments of the pattern +were beginning to settle into place. Rakhal, seeking the matter +transmitter and some key to the nonhuman sciences of Wolf--I knew now +what the city of Silent Ones had reminded me of!--had somehow crossed +the path of the Toymaker. + +Evarin's words now made sense: "_You were clever at evading our +surveillance--for a while._" Possibly, though I'd never know, Cuinn had +been keeping one foot in each camp, working for Kyral and for Evarin. +The Toymaker, knowing of Rakhal's anti-Terran activities, had believed +he would make a valuable ally and had taken steps to secure his help. + +Juli herself had given me the clue: "_He smashed Rindy's Toys._" Out of +the context it sounded like the work of a madman. Now, having +encountered Evarin's workshop, it made plain good sense. + +And I think I had known all along that Rakhal could not have been +playing Evarin's game. He might have turned against Terra--though now I +was beginning even to doubt that--and certainly he'd have killed me if +he found me. But he would have done it himself, and without malice. +_Killed without malice_--that doesn't make sense in any of the +languages of Terra. But it made sense to me. + +Miellyn had finished her brief recitation and was drowsing, her head +pillowed on the table. The reddish light was growing, and I realized +that I was waiting for dawn as, days ago, I had waited for sunset in +Shainsa, with every nerve stretched to the breaking point. It was dawn +of the third morning, and this bird lying on the table before me must +fly or, far away in the Kharsa, another would fly at Juli. + +I said, "There's some distance limitation on this one, I understand, +since I have to be fairly near its object. If I lock it in a steel box +and drop it in the desert, I'll guarantee it won't bother anybody. I +don't suppose you'd have a shot at stealing the other one for me?" + +She raised her head, eyes flashing. "Why should you worry about Rakhal's +wife?" she flared, and for no good reason it occurred to me that she was +jealous. "I might have known Evarin wouldn't shoot in the dark! Rakhal's +wife, that Earthwoman, what do you care for her?" + +It seemed important to set her straight. I explained that Juli was my +sister, and saw a little of the tension fade from her face, but not all. +Remembering the custom of the Dry-towns, I was not wholly surprised when +she added, jealously, "When I heard of your feud, I guessed it was over +that woman!" + +"But not in the way you think," I said. Juli had been part of it, +certainly. Even then I had not wanted her to turn her back on her world, +but if Rakhal had remained with Terra, I would have accepted his +marriage to Juli. Accepted it. I'd have rejoiced. God knows we had been +closer than brothers, those years in the Dry-towns. And then, before +Miellyn's flashing eyes, I suddenly faced my secret hate, my secret +fear. No, the quarrel had not been all Rakhal's doing. + +He had not turned his back, unexplained on Terra. In some unrecognized +fashion, I had done my best to drive him away. And when he had gone, I +had banished a part of myself as well, and thought I could end the +struggle by saying it didn't exist. And now, facing what I had done to +all of us, I knew that my revenge--so long sought, so dearly +cherished--must be abandoned. + +"We still have to deal with the bird," I said. "It's a gamble, with all +the cards wild." I could dismantle it, and trust to luck that Wolf +illogic didn't include a tamper mechanism. But that didn't seem worth +the risk. + +"First I've got to _find_ Rakhal. If I set the bird free and it killed +him, it wouldn't settle anything." For I could not kill Rakhal. Not, +now, because I knew life would be a worse punishment than death. But +because--I knew it, now--if Rakhal died, Juli would die, too. And if I +killed him I'd be killing the best part of myself. Somehow Rakhal and I +must strike a balance between our two worlds, and try to build a new one +from them. + +"And I can't sit here and talk any longer. I haven't time to take you--" +I stopped, remembering the spaceport cafe at the edge of the Kharsa. +There was a street-shrine, or matter transmitter, right there, across +the street from the Terran HQ. _All these years...._ + +"You know your way in the transmitters. You can go there in a second or +two." She could warn Juli, tell Magnusson. But when I suggested this, +giving her a password that would take her straight to the top, she +turned white. "All jumps have to be made through the Mastershrine." + +I stopped and thought about that. + +"Where is Evarin likely to be, right now?" + +She gave a nervous shudder. "He's everywhere!" + +"Rubbish! He's not omniscient! Why, you little fool, he didn't even +recognize me. He thought I was Rakhal!" I wasn't too sure, myself, but +Miellyn needed reassurance. "Or take _me_ to the Mastershrine. I can +find Rakhal in that scanning device of Evarin's." I saw refusal in her +face and pushed on, "If Evarin's there, I'll prove he's fallible enough +with a skean in his throat! And here"--I thrust the Toy into her +hand--"hang on to this, will you?" + +She put it matter-of-factly into her draperies. "I don't mind that. But +to the shrine--" Her voice quivered, and I stood up and pushed at the +table. + +"Let's get going. Where's the nearest street-shrine?" + +"No, no! Oh, I don't dare!" + +"You've got to." I saw the _chak_ who owned the place edging round the +door again and said, "There's no use arguing, Miellyn." When she had +readjusted her robes a little while ago, she had pinned them so that +the flat sprawl of the Nebran embroideries was over her breasts. I put a +finger against them, not in a sensuous gesture, and said, "The minute +they see these, they'll throw us out of here, too." + +"If you knew what I know of Nebran, you wouldn't _want_ me to go near +the Mastershrine again!" There was that faint coquettishness in her +sidewise smile. + +And suddenly I realized that I didn't want her to. But she was not +Dallisa and she could not sit in cold dignity while her world fell into +ruin. Miellyn must fight for the one she wanted. + +And then some of that primitive male hostility which lives in every man +came to the surface, and I gripped her arm until she whimpered. Then I +said, in the Shainsan which still comes to my tongue when moved or +angry, "Damn it, you're _going_. Have you forgotten that if it weren't +for me you'd have been torn to pieces by that raving mob, or something +worse?" + +That did it. She pulled away and I saw again, beneath the veneer of +petulant coquetry, that fierce and untamable insolence of the +Dry-towner. The more fierce and arrogant, in this girl, because she had +burst her fettered hands free and shaken off the ruin of the past. + +I was seized with a wildly inappropriate desire to seize her, crush her +in my arms, taste the red honey of that teasing mouth. The effort of +mastering the impulse made me rough. + +I shoved at her and said, "Come on. Let's get there before Evarin does." + + + + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN + + +Outside in the streets it was full day, and the color and life of Charin +had subsided into listlessness again, a dim morning dullness and +silence. Only a few men lounged wearily in the streets, as if the sun +had sapped their energy. And always the pale fleecy-haired children, +human and furred nonhuman, played their mysterious games on the curbs +and gutters and staring at us with neither curiosity nor malice. + +Miellyn was shaking when she set her feet into the patterned stones of +the street-shrine. + +"Scared, Miellyn?" + +"I know Evarin. You don't. But"--her mouth twitched in a pitiful attempt +at the old mischief--"when I am with a great and valorous Earthman...." + +"Cut it out," I growled, and she giggled. "You'll have to stand closer +to me. The transmitters are meant only for one person." + +I stooped and put my arms round her. "Like this?" + +"Like this," she whispered, pressing herself against me. A staggering +whirl of dizzy darkness swung round my head. The street vanished. After +an instant the floor steadied and we stepped into the terminal room in +the Mastershrine, under a skylight dim with the last red slant of +sunset. Distant hammering noises rang in my ears. + +Miellyn whispered, "Evarin's not here, but he might jump through at any +second." I wasn't listening. + +"Where is this place, Miellyn? Where on the planet?" + +"No one knows but Evarin, I think. There are no doors. Anyone who goes +in or out, jumps through the transmitter." She pointed. "The scanning +device is in there, we'll have to go through the workroom." + +She was patting her crushed robes into place, smoothing her hair with +fastidious fingers. "I don't suppose you have a comb? I've no time to go +to my own--" + +I'd known she was a vain and pampered brat, but this passed all reason, +and I said so, exploding at her. She looked at me as if I wasn't quite +intelligent. "The Little Ones, my friend, notice things. You are quite +enough of a roughneck, but if I, Nebran's priestess, walk through their +workroom all blown about and looking like the tag end of an orgy in +Ardcarran...." + +Abashed, I fished in a pocket and offered her a somewhat battered pocket +comb. She looked at it distastefully but used it to good purpose, +smoothing her hair swiftly, rearranging her loose-pinned robe so that +the worst of the tears and stains were covered, and giving me, +meanwhile, an artless and rather tempting view of some delicious +curvature. She replaced the starred tiara on her ringlets and finally +opened the door of the workroom and we walked through. + +Not for years had I known that particular sensation--thousands of eyes, +boring holes in the center of my back somewhere. There _were_ eyes; the +round inhuman orbs of the dwarf _chaks_, the faceted stare of the prism +eyes of the Toys. The workroom wasn't a hundred feet long, but it felt +longer than a good many miles I've walked. Here and there the dwarfs +murmured an obsequious greeting to Miellyn, and she made some +lighthearted answer. + +She had warned me to walk as if I had every right to be there, and I +strode after her as if we were simply going to an agreed-on meeting in +the next room. But I was drenched with cold sweat before the farther +door finally closed, safe and blessedly opaque, behind us. Miellyn, too, +was shaking with fright, and I put a hand on her arm. + +"Steady, kid. Where's the scanner?" + +She touched the panel I'd seen. "I'm not sure I can focus it accurately. +Evarin never let me touch it." + +This was a fine time to tell me that. "How does it work?" + +"It's an adaptation of the transmitter principle. It lets you see +anywhere, but without jumping. It uses a tracer mechanism like the one +in the Toys. If Rakhal's electrical-impulse pattern were on file--just a +minute." She fished out the bird Toy and unwrapped it. "Here's how we +find out which of you this is keyed to." + +I looked at the fledgling bird, lying innocently in her palm, as she +pushed aside the feathers, exposing a tiny crystal. "If it's keyed to +you, you'll see yourself in this, as if the screen were a mirror. If +it's keyed to Rakhal...." + +She touched the crystal to the surface of the screen. Little flickers of +snow wavered and danced. Then, abruptly, we were looking down from a +height at the lean back of a man in a leather jacket. Slowly he turned. +I saw the familiar set of his shoulders, saw the back of his head come +into an aquiline profile, and the profile turn slowly into a scarred, +seared mask more hideously claw-marked and disfigured than my own. + +"Rakhal," I muttered. "Shift the focus if you can, Miellyn, get a look +out the window or something. Charin's a big city. If we could get a look +at a landmark--" + +Rakhal was talking soundlessly, his lips moving as he spoke to someone +out of sight range of the scanning device. Abruptly Miellyn said, +"There." She had caught a window in the sight field of the pane. I could +see a high pylon and two of three uprights that looked like a bridge, +just outside. I said, "It's the Bridge of Summer Snows. I know where he +is now. Turn it off, Miellyn, we can find him--" I was turning away when +Miellyn screamed. + +"Look!" + +Rakhal had turned his back on the scanner and for the first time I could +see who he was talking to. A hunched, catlike shoulder twisted; a +sinuous neck, a high-held head that was not quite human. + +"Evarin!" I swore. "That does it. He knows now that I'm not Rakhal, if +he didn't know it all along! Come on, girl, we're getting out of here!" + +This time there was no pretense of normality as we dashed through the +workroom. Fingers dropped from half-completed Toys as they stared after +us. _Toys!_ I wanted to stop and smash them all. But if we hurried, we +might find Rakhal. And, with luck, we would find Evarin with him. + +And then I was going to bang their heads together. I'd reached a +saturation point on adventure. I'd had all I wanted. I realized that I'd +been up all night, that I was exhausted. I wanted to murder and smash, +and wanted to fall down somewhere and go to sleep, all at once. We +banged the workroom door shut and I took time to shove a heavy divan +against it, blockading it. + +Miellyn stared. "The Little Ones would not harm me," she began. "I am +sacrosanct." + +I wasn't sure. I had a notion her status had changed plenty, beginning +when I saw her chained and drugged, and standing under the hovering +horror. But I didn't say so. + +"Maybe. But there's nothing sacred about _me_!" + +She was already inside the recess where the Toad God squatted. "There is +a street-shrine just beyond the Bridge of Summer Snows. We can jump +directly there." Abruptly she froze in my arms, with a convulsive +shudder. + +"Evarin! Hold me, tight--he's jumping in! Quick!" + +Space reeled round us, and then.... + +Can you split instantaneousness into fragments? It didn't make sense, +but so help me, that's what happened. And everything that happened, +occurred within less than a second. We landed in the street-shrine. I +could see the pylon and the bridge and the rising sun of Charin. Then +there was the giddy internal wrenching, a blast of icy air whistled +round us, and we were gazing out at the Polar mountains, ringed in their +eternal snow. + +Miellyn clutched at me. "Pray! Pray to the Gods of Terra, if there are +any!" + +She clung so violently that it felt as if her small body was trying to +push through me and come out the other side. I hung on tight. Miellyn +knew what she was doing in the transmitter; I was just along for the +ride and I didn't relish the thought of being dropped off somewhere in +that black limbo we traversed. + +We jumped again, the sickness of disorientation forcing a moan from the +girl, and darkness shivered round us. I looked on an unfamiliar street +of black night and dust-bleared stars. She whimpered, "Evarin knows what +I'm doing. He's jumping us all over the planet. He can work the controls +with his mind. Psychokinetics--I can do it a little, but I never +dared--oh, hang on _tight_!" + +Then began one of the most amazing duels ever fought. Miellyn would make +some tiny movement, and we would be falling, blind and dizzy, through +blackness. Halfway through the giddiness, a new direction would wrench +us and we would be thrust elsewhere, and look out into a new street. + +One instant I smelled hot coffee from the spaceport cafe near the +Kharsa. An instant later it was blinding noon, with crimson fronds +waving above us and a dazzle of water. We flicked in and out of the +salty air of Shainsa, glimpsed flowers on a Daillon street, moonlight, +noon, red twilight flickered and went, shot through with the terrible +giddiness of hyperspace. + +Then suddenly I caught a second glimpse of the bridge and the pylon; a +moment's oversight had landed us for an instant in Charin. The blackness +started to reel down, but my reflexes are fast and I made one swift, +scrabbling step forward. We lurched, sprawled, locked together, on the +stones of the Bridge of Summer Snows. Battered, and bruised, and +bloody, we were still alive, and where we wanted to be. + +I lifted Miellyn to her feet. Her eyes were dazed with pain. The ground +swayed and rocked under our feet as we fled along the bridge. At the far +end, I looked up at the pylon. Judging from its angle, we couldn't be +more than a hundred feet from the window through which I'd seen that +landmark in the scanner. In this street there was a wineshop, a silk +market, and a small private house. I walked up and banged on the door. + +Silence. I knocked again and had time to wonder if we'd find ourselves +explaining things to some uninvolved stranger. Then I heard a child's +high voice, and a deep familiar voice hushing it. The door opened, just +a crack, to reveal part of a scarred face. + +It drew into a hideous grin, then relaxed. + +"I thought it might be you, Cargill. You've taken at least three days +longer than I figured, getting here. Come on in," said Rakhal Sensar. + + + + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN + + +He hadn't changed much in six years. His face _was_ worse than mine; he +hadn't had the plastic surgeons of Terran Intelligence doing their best +for him. His mouth, I thought fleetingly, must hurt like hell when he +drew it up into the kind of grin he was grinning now. His eyebrows, +thick and fierce with gray in them, went up as he saw Miellyn; but he +backed away to let us enter, and shut the door behind us. + +The room was bare and didn't look as if it had been lived in much. The +floor was stone, rough-laid, a single fur rug laid before a brazier. A +little girl was sitting on the rug, drinking from a big double-handled +mug, but she scrambled to her feet as we came in, and backed against the +wall, looking at us with wide eyes. + +She had pale-red hair like Juli's, cut straight in a fringe across her +forehead, and she was dressed in a smock of dyed red fur that almost +matched her hair. A little smear of milk like a white moustache clung to +her upper lip where she had forgotten to wipe her mouth. She was about +five years old, with deep-set dark eyes like Juli's, that watched me +gravely without surprise or fear; she evidently knew who I was. + +"Rindy," Rakhal said quietly, not taking his eyes from me. "Go into the +other room." + +Rindy didn't move, still staring at me. Then she moved toward Miellyn, +looking up intently not at the woman, but at the pattern of embroideries +across her dress. It was very quiet, until Rakhal added, in a gentle and +curiously moderate voice, "Do you still carry a skean, Race?" + +I shook my head. "There's an ancient proverb on Terra, about blood being +thicker than water, Rakhal. That's Juli's daughter. I'm not going to +kill her father right before her eyes." My rage spilled over then, and I +bellowed, "To hell with your damned Dry-town feuds and your filthy Toad +God and all the rest of it!" + +Rakhal said harshly, "Rindy. I told you to get out." + +"She needn't go." I took a step toward the little girl, a wary eye on +Rakhal. "I don't know quite what you're up to, but it's nothing for a +child to be mixed up in. Do what you damn please. I can settle with you +any time. + +"The first thing is to get Rindy out of here. She belongs with Juli and, +damn it, that's where she's going." I held out my arms to the little +girl and said, "It's over, Rindy, whatever he's done to you. Your mother +sent me to find you. Don't you want to go to your mother?" + +Rakhal made a menacing gesture and warned, "I wouldn't--" + +Miellyn darted swiftly between us and caught up the child in her arms. +Rindy began to struggle noiselessly, kicking and whimpering, but Miellyn +took two quick steps, and flung an inner door open. Rakhal took a stride +toward her. She whirled on him, fighting to control the furious little +girl, and gasped, "Settle it between you, without the baby watching!" + +Through the open door I briefly saw a bed, a child's small dresses +hanging on a hook, before Miellyn kicked the door shut and I heard a +latch being fastened. Behind the closed door Rindy broke into angry +screams, but I put my back against the door. + +"She's right. We'll settle it between the two of us. What have you done +to that child?" + +"If you thought--" Rakhal stopped himself in midsentence and stood +watching me without moving for a minute. Then he laughed. + +"You're as stupid as ever, Race. Why, you fool, I knew Juli would run +straight to you, if she was scared enough. I knew it would bring you out +of hiding. Why, you damned fool!" He stood mocking me, but there was a +strained fury, almost a frenzy of contempt behind the laughter. + +"You filthy coward, Race! Six years hiding in the Terran zone. Six +years, and I gave you six months! If you'd had the guts to walk out +after me, after I rigged that final deal to give you the chance, we +could have gone after the biggest thing on Wolf. And we could have +brought it off together, instead of spending years spying and dodging +and hunting! And now, when I finally get you out of hiding, all you want +to do is run back where you'll be safe! I thought you had more guts!" + +"Not for Evarin's dirty work!" + +Rakhal swore hideously. "Evarin! Do you really believe--I might have +known he'd get to you too! That girl--and you've managed to wreck all I +did there, too!" Suddenly, so swiftly my eyes could hardly follow, he +whipped out his skean and came at me. "Get away from that door!" + +I stood my ground. "You'll have to kill me first. And I won't fight you, +Rakhal. We'll settle this, but we'll do it my way for once, like +Earthmen." + +"_Son of the Ape!_ Get your skean out, you stinking coward!" + +"I won't do it, Rakhal." I stood and defied him. I had outmaneuvered +Dry-towners in a _shegri_ bet. I knew Rakhal, and I knew he would not +knife an unarmed man. "We fought once with the _kifirgh_ and it didn't +settle anything. This time we'll do it my way. I threw my skean away +before I came here. I won't fight." + +He thrust at me. Even I could see that the blow was a feint, and I had a +flashing, instantaneous memory of Dallisa's threat to drive the knife +through my palms. But even while I commanded myself to stand steady, +sheer reflex threw me forward, grabbing at his wrist and the knife. + +Between my grappling hand he twisted and I felt the skean drive home, +rip through my jacket with a tearing sound; felt the thin fine line of +touch, not pain yet, as it sliced flesh. Then pain burned through my +ribs and I felt hot blood, and I wanted to kill Rakhal, wanted to get my +hands around his throat and kill him with them. And at the same time I +was raging because I didn't want to fight the crazy fool, I wasn't even +mad at him. + +Miellyn flung the door open, shrieking, and suddenly the Toy, released, +was darting a small whirring droning horror, straight at Rakhal's eyes. +I yelled. But there was no time even to warn him. I bent and butted him +in the stomach. He grunted, doubled up in agony and fell out of the path +of the diving Toy. It whirred in frustration, hovered. + +He writhed in agony, drawing up his knees, clawing at his shirt, while I +turned on Miellyn in immense fury--and stopped. Hers had been a move of +desperation, an instinctive act to restore the balance between a +weaponless man and one who had a knife. Rakhal gasped, in a hoarse voice +with all the breath gone from it: + +"Didn't want to use. Rather fight clean--" Then he opened his closed +fist and suddenly there were _two_ of the little whirring droning +horrors in the room and this one was diving at me, and as I threw myself +headlong to the floor the last puzzle-piece fell into place: Evarin had +made the same bargain with Rakhal as with me! + +I rolled over, dodging. Behind me in the room there was a child's shrill +scream: "Daddy! Daddy!" And abruptly the birds collapsed in midair and +went limp. They fell to the floor like dropping stones and lay there +quivering. Rindy dashed across the room, her small skirts flying, and +grabbed up one of the terrible vicious things in either hand. + +"Rindy!" I bellowed. "No!" + +She stood shaking, tears pouring down her round cheeks, a Toy squeezed +tight in either hand. Dark veins stood out almost black on her fair +temples. "Break them, Daddy," she implored in a little thread of a +voice. "Break them, _quick_. I can't hang on...." + +Rakhal staggered to his feet like a drunken man and snatched one of the +Toys, grinding it under his heel. He made a grab at the second, reeled +and drew an anguished breath. He crumpled up, clutching at his belly +where I'd butted him. The bird screamed like a living thing. + +Breaking my paralysis of horror I leaped up, ran across the room, +heedless of the searing pain along my side. I snatched the bird from +Rindy and it screamed and shrilled and died as my foot crunched the tiny +feathers. I stamped the still-moving thing into an amorphous mess and +kept on stamping and smashing until it was only a heap of powder. + +Rakhal finally managed to haul himself upright again. His face was so +pale that the scars stood out like fresh burns. + +"That was a foul blow, Race, but I--I know why you did it." He stopped +and breathed for a minute. Then he muttered, "You ... saved my life, you +know. Did you know you were doing it, when you did it?" + +Still breathing hard, I nodded. Done knowingly, it meant an end of +blood-feud. However we had wronged each other, whatever the pledges. I +spoke the words that confirmed it and ended it, finally and forever: + +"There is a life between us. Let it stand for a death." + +Miellyn was standing in the doorway, her hands pressed to her mouth, her +eyes wide. She said shakily, "You're walking around with a knife in your +ribs, you fool!" + +Rakhal whirled and with a quick jerk he pulled the skean loose. It had +simply been caught in my shirtcloak, in a fold of the rough cloth. He +pulled it away, glanced at the red tip, then relaxed. "Not more than an +inch deep," he said. Then, angrily, defending himself: "You did it +yourself, you ape. I was trying to get rid of the knife when you jumped +me." + +But I knew that and he knew I knew it. He turned and scooped up Rindy, +who was sobbing noisily. She dug her head into his shoulder and I made +out her strangled words. "The other Toys hurt you when I was mad at +you...." she sobbed, rubbing her fists against smeared cheeks. "I--I +wasn't that mad at you. I wasn't that mad at anybody, not even ... him." + +Rakhal pressed his hand against his daughter's fleecy hair and said, +looking at me over her head, "The Toys activate a child's subconscious +resentments against his parents--I found out that much. That also means +a child can control them for a few seconds. No adult can." A stranger +would have seen no change in his expression, but I knew him, and saw. + +"Juli said you threatened Rindy." + +He chuckled and set the child on her feet. "What else could I say that +would have scared Juli enough to send her running to you? Juli's proud, +almost as proud as you are, you stiff-necked Son of the Ape." The insult +did not sting me now. + +"Come on, sit down and let's decide what to do, now we've finished up +the old business." He looked remotely at Miellyn and said, "You must be +Dallisa's sister? I don't suppose your talents include knowing how to +make coffee?" + +They didn't, but with Rindy's help Miellyn managed, and while they were +out of the room Rakhal explained briefly. "Rindy has rudimentary ESP. +I've never had it myself, but I could teach her something--not +much--about how to use it. I've been on Evarin's track ever since that +business of The Lisse. + +"I'd have got it sooner, if you were still working with me, but I +couldn't do anything as a Terran agent, and I had to be kicked out so +thoroughly that the others wouldn't be afraid I was still working +secretly for Terra. For a long time I was just chasing rumors, but when +Rindy got big enough to look in the crystals of Nebran, I started making +some progress. + +"I was afraid to tell Juli; her best safety was the fact that she didn't +know anything. She's always been a stranger in the Dry-towns." He +paused, then said with honest self-evaluation, "Since I left the Secret +Service I've been a stranger there myself." + +I asked, "What about Dallisa?" + +"Twins have some ESP to each other. I knew Miellyn had gone to the +Toymaker. I tried to get Dallisa to find out where Miellyn had gone, +learn more about it. Dallisa wouldn't risk it, but Kyral saw me with +Dallisa and thought it was Miellyn. That put him on my tail, too, and I +had to leave Shainsa. I was afraid of Kyral," he added soberly. "Afraid +of what he'd do. I couldn't do anything without Rindy and I knew if I +told Juli what I was doing, she'd take Rindy away into the Terran Zone, +and I'd be as good as dead." + +As he talked, I began to realize how vast a web Evarin and the +underground organization of Nebran had spread for us. "Evarin was here +today. What for?" + +Rakhal laughed mirthlessly. "He's been trying to get us to kill each +other off. That would get rid of us both. He wants to turn over Wolf to +the nonhumans entirely, I think he's sincere enough, but"--he spread his +hands helplessly--"I can't sit by and see it." + +I asked point-blank, "Are you working for Terra? Or for the Dry-towns? +Or any of the anti-Terran movements?" + +"I'm working for _me_", he said with a shrug. "I don't think much of the +Terran Empire, but one planet can't fight a galaxy. Race, I want just +one thing. I want the Dry-towns and the rest of Wolf, to have a voice in +their own government. Any planet which makes a substantial contribution +to galactic science, by the laws of the Terran Empire, is automatically +given the status of an independent commonwealth. + +"If a man from the Dry-towns discovers something like a matter +transmitter, Wolf gets dominion status. But Evarin and his gang want to +keep it secret, keep it away from Terra, keep it locked up in places +like Canarsa! Somebody has to get it away from them. And if I do it, I +get a nice fat bonus, and an official position." + +I believed that, where I would have suspected too much protestation of +altruism. Rakhal tossed it aside. + +"You've got Miellyn to take you through the transmitters. Go back to the +Mastershrine, and tell Evarin that Race Cargill is dead. In the Trade +City they think I'm Cargill, and I can get in and out as I choose--sorry +if it caused you trouble, but it was the safest thing I could think +of--and I'll 'vise Magnusson and have him send soldiers to guard the +street-shrines. Evarin might try to escape through one of them." + +I shook my head. "Terra hasn't enough men on all Wolf to cover the +street-shrines in Charin alone. And I can't go back with Miellyn." I +explained. Rakhal pursed his lips and whistled when I described the +fight in the transmitter. + +"You have all the luck, Cargill! I've never been near enough even to be +sure how they work--and I'll bet you didn't begin to understand! We'll +have to do it the hard way, then. It won't be the first time we've +bulled our way through a tight place! We'll face Evarin in his own +hideout! If Rindy's with us, we needn't worry." + +I was willing to let him assume command, but I protested, "You'd take a +child into that--that--" + +"What else can we do? Rindy can control the Toys, and neither you nor I +can do that, if Evarin should decide to throw his whole arsenal at us." +He called Rindy and spoke softly to her. She looked from her father to +me, and back again to her father, then smiled and stretched out her hand +to me. + +Before we ventured into the street, Rakhal scowled at the sprawled +embroideries of Miellyn's robe. He said, "In those things you show up +like a snowfall in Shainsa. If you go out in them, you could be mobbed. +Hadn't you better get rid of them now?" + +"I can't," she protested. "They're the keys to the transmitter!" + +Rakhal looked at the conventionalized idols with curiosity, but said +only, "Cover them up in the street, then. Rindy, find her something to +put over her dress." + +When we reached the street-shrine, Miellyn admonished: "Stand close +together on the stones. I'm not sure we can all make the jump at once, +but we'll have to try." + +Rakhal picked up Rindy and hoisted her to his shoulder. Miellyn dropped +the cloak she had draped over the pattern of the Nebran embroideries, +and we crowded close together. The street swayed and vanished and I felt +the now-familiar dip and swirl of blackness before the world +straightened out again. Rindy was whimpering, dabbing smeary fists at +her face. "Daddy, my nose is bleeding...." + +Miellyn hastily bent and wiped the blood from the snubby nose. Rakhal +gestured impatiently. + +"The workroom. Wreck everything you see. Rindy, if anything starts to +come at us, you stop it. Stop it quick. And"--he bent and took the +little face between his hands--"_chiya_, remember they're not toys, no +matter how pretty they are." + +Her grave gray eyes blinked, and she nodded. + +Rakhal flung open the door of the elves' workshop with a shout. The +ringing of the anvils shattered into a thousand dissonances as I kicked +over a workbench and half-finished Toys crashed in confusion to the +floor. + +The dwarfs scattered like rabbits before our assault of destruction. I +smashed tools, filigree, jewels, stamping everything with my heavy +boots. I shattered glass, caught up a hammer and smashed crystals. There +was a wild exhilaration to it. + +A tiny doll, proportioned like a woman, dashed toward me, shrilling in a +supersonic shriek. I put my foot on her and ground the life out of her, +and she screamed like a living woman as she came apart. Her blue eyes +rolled from her head and lay on the floor watching me. I crushed the +blue jewels under my heel. + +Rakhal swung a tiny hound by the tail. Its head shattered into debris of +almost-invisible gears and wheels. I caught up a chair and wrecked a +glass cabinet of parts with it, swinging furiously. A berserk madness of +smashing and breaking had laid hold on me. + +I was drunk with crushing and shattering and ruining, when I heard +Miellyn scream a warning and turned to see Evarin standing in the +doorway. His green cat-eyes blazed with rage. Then he raised both hands +in a sudden, sardonic gesture, and with a loping, inhuman glide, raced +for the transmitter. + +"Rindy," Rakhal panted, "can you block the transmitter?" + +Instead Rindy shrieked. "We've got to get out! The roof is falling down! +The house is going to fall down on us! The roof, look at the roof!" + +I looked up, transfixed by horror. I saw a wide rift open, saw the +skylight shatter and break, and daylight pouring through the cracking +walls, Rakhal snatched Rindy up, protecting her from the falling debris +with his head and shoulders. I grabbed Miellyn round the waist and we +ran for the rift in the buckling wall. + +We shoved through just before the roof caved in and the walls collapsed, +and we found ourselves standing on a bare grassy hillside, looking down +in shock and horror as below us, section after section of what had been +apparently bare hill and rock caved in and collapsed into dusty rubble. + +Miellyn screamed hoarsely. "Run. Run, hurry!" + +I didn't understand, but I ran. I ran, my sides aching, blood streaming +from the forgotten flesh-wound in my side. Miellyn raced beside me and +Rakhal stumbled along, carrying Rindy. + +Then the shock of a great explosion rocked the ground, hurling me down +full length, Miellyn falling on top of me. Rakhal went down on his +knees. Rindy was crying loudly. When I could see straight again, I +looked down at the hillside. + +There was nothing left of Evarin's hideaway or the Mastershrine of +Nebran except a great, gaping hole, still oozing smoke and thick black +dust. Miellyn said aloud, dazed, "So _that's_ what he was going to do!" + +It fitted the peculiar nonhuman logic of the Toymaker. He'd covered the +traces. + +"Destroyed!" Rakhal raged. "All destroyed! The workrooms, the science of +the Toys, the matter transmitter--the minute we find it, it's +destroyed!" He beat his fists furiously. "Our one chance to learn--" + +"We were lucky to get out alive," said Miellyn quietly. "Where on the +planet are we, I wonder?" + +I looked down the hillside, and stared in amazement. Spread out on the +hillside below us lay the Kharsa, topped by the white skyscraper of the +HQ. + +"I'll be damned," I said, "right here. We're home. Rakhal, you can go +down and make your peace with the Terrans, and Juli. And you, Miellyn--" +Before the others, I could not say what I was thinking, but I put my +hand on her shoulder and kept it there. She smiled, shakily, with a hint +of her old mischief. "I can't go into the Terran Zone looking like this, +can I? Give me that comb again. Rakhal, give me your shirtcloak, my +robes are torn." + +"You vain, stupid female, worrying about a thing like that at a time +like this!" Rakhal's look was like murder. I put my comb in her hand, +then suddenly saw something in the symbols across her breasts. Before +this I had seen only the conventionalized and intricate glyph of the +Toad God. But now-- + +I reached out and ripped the cloth away. + +"Cargill!" she protested angrily, crimsoning, covering her bare breasts +with both hands. "Is this the place? And before a child, too!" + +I hardly heard. "Look!" I exclaimed. "Rakhal, look at the symbols +embroidered into the glyph of the God! You can read the old nonhuman +glyphs. You did it in the city of The Lisse. Miellyn said they were the +key to the transmitters! I'll bet the formula is written out there for +anyone to read! + +"Anyone, that is, who _can_ read it! I can't, but I'll bet the formula +equations for the transmitters are carved on every Toad God glyph on +Wolf. Rakhal, it makes sense. There are two ways of hiding something. +Either keep it locked away, or hide it right out in plain sight. Whoever +bothers even to _look_ at a conventionalized Toad God? There are so many +_billions_ of them...." + +He bent his head over the embroideries, and when he looked up his face +was flushed. "I believe--by the chains of Sharra, I believe you have it, +Race! It may take years to work out the glyphs, but I'll do it, or die +trying!" His scarred and hideous face looked almost handsome in +exultation, and I grinned at him. + +"If Juli leaves enough of you, once she finds out how you maneuvered +her. Look, Rindy's fallen asleep on the grass there. Poor kid, we'd +better get her down to her mother." + +"Right." Rakhal thrust the precious embroidery into his shirtcloak, then +cradled his sleeping daughter in his arms. I watched him with a curious +emotion I could not identify. It seemed to pinpoint some great change, +either in Rakhal or myself. It's not difficult to visualize one's sister +with children, but there was something, some strange incongruity in the +sight of Rakhal carrying the little girl, carefully tucking her up in a +fold of his cloak to keep the sharp breeze off her face. + +Miellyn was limping in her thin sandals, and she shivered. I asked, +"Cold?" + +"No, but--I don't believe Evarin is dead, I'm afraid he got away." + +For a minute the thought dimmed the luster of the morning. Then I +shrugged. "He's probably buried in that big hole up there." But I knew I +would never be sure. + +We walked abreast, my arm around the weary, stumbling woman, and Rakhal +said softly at last, "Like old times." + +It wasn't old times, I knew. He would know it too, once his exultation +sobered. I had outgrown my love for intrigue, and I had the feeling this +was Rakhal's last adventure. It was going to take him, as he said, years +to work out the equations for the transmitter. And I had a feeling my +own solid, ordinary desk was going to look good to me in the morning. + +But I knew now that I'd never run away from Wolf again. It was my own +beloved sun that was rising. My sister was waiting for me down below, +and I was bringing back her child. My best friend was walking at my +side. What more could a man want? + +If the memory of dark, poison-berry eyes was to haunt me in nightmares, +they did not come into the waking world. I looked at Miellyn, took her +slender unmanacled hand in mine, and smiled as we walked through the +gates of the city. Now, after all my years on Wolf, I understood the +desire to keep their women under lock and key that was its ancient +custom. I vowed to myself as we went that I should waste no time finding +a fetter shop and having forged therein the perfect steel chains that +should bind my love's wrists to my key forever. + + + + +ACE SCIENCE FICTION DOUBLES + +Two books back-to-back + +00990 =Against Arcturus= Putney +=Time Thieves= Koontz 95c + +13805 =Dark Planet= Rackham +=Herod Men= Kamin 75c + +15890 =Door Through Space= Bradley +=Rendezvous on a Lost World= Chandler 95c + +16640 =Dragon Master= +=Five Gold Bands= Vance 95c + +27415 =Gather in the Hall of Planets= O'Donnell +=In the Pocket and Other SF Stories= O'Donnell 75c + +33710 =Highwood= Barrett +=Annihilation Factor= Bayley 95c + +66525 =Pirates of Zan= Leinster +=Mutant Weapon= Leinster 95c + +68310 =Project Jove= Glasby +=Hunters of Jundagai= Bulmer 75c + +75781 =Secret of Sinharat= +=People of the Talisman= Brackett 95c + +77525 =Son of the Tree= +=House of Iszm= Vance 95c + +77785 =Space Willies= +=Six Worlds Yonder= Russell 75c + +79975 =Technos= +=A Scatter of Stardust= Tubb 95c + +_Available wherever paperbacks are sold or use this coupon_. + + +=ace books=, (Dept. 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MM) Box 576, Times Square Station +New York, N.Y. 10036 + +Please send me titles checked above. + +I enclose $............Add 15c handling fee per copy. + +Name................................................. + +Address.............................................. + +City.................. State............. Zip........ + +Please allow 4 weeks for delivery. 35 + + + * * * * * + + + + +FANGS OF THE WOLF WORLD + + +At one time Race Cargill had been the best Terran Intelligence agent on +the complex and mysterious planet of Wolf. He had repeatedly imperiled +his life amongst the half-human and non-human creatures of the sullen +world. And he had repeatedly accomplished the fantastic missions until +his name was emblazoned with glory. + +But that had all seemingly ended. For six long years he'd sat behind a +boring desk inside the fenced-in Terran Headquarters, cut off there ever +since he and a rival had scarred and ripped each other in blood-feud. + +But when THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE swung suddenly open, the feud was on +again--and with it a plot designed to check and destroy the Terran +Empire. + + + * * * * * + +Turn this book over for +second complete novel + + * * * * * + + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE + + +LIST OF FIXED ISSUES + +p. 024--typo fixed: changed 'scared' into 'scarred' +p. 029--typo fixed: changed 'shiftcloak' into 'shirtcloak' +p. 030--typo fixed: changed 'dozen' into 'dozens' +p. 035--typo fixed: changed 'Kryal' into 'Kyral' +p. 045--typo fixed: changed 'miscroscope' into 'microscope' +p. 052--typo fixed: changed 'known' into 'know' +p. 076--typo fixed: changed 'even' into 'ever' +p. 078--removed an extra 'what' +p. 088--spelling normalized: changed 'shirt cloak' into 'shirtcloak' +p. 092--typo fixed: changed 'telling' into 'told' +p. 100--typo fixed: changed 'her' into 'my' +p. 101--typo fixed: changed 'thousand' into 'thousands' +p. 105--typo fixed: changed 'harsly' into 'harshly' +p. 108--typo fixed: changed 'has' into 'had' +p. 108--typo fixed: changed 'her' into 'his' +p. 109--removed an extra quote in front of 'I was afraid' +p. 111--typo fixed: changed 'stetched' into 'stretched' + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Door Through Space, by Marion Zimmer Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DOOR THROUGH SPACE *** + +***** This file should be named 19726.txt or 19726.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/7/2/19726/ + +Produced by Gregory D. 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