Part 3 (2/2)

”If,” said Halk, ”the Dark Man and his baggage don't slow us down.”

Stark showed the edges of his teeth. ”Halk,” he said, ”I have a feeling that you and I are not going to be the best of friends.”

”Bear with him, Stark,” said Yarrod. ”He's a fighter, and we need swords more than we need sweet tempers.”

That at least was true. Stark saved his breath for walking. And there was plenty of that for all of them.

6.

It was daybreak and they had stopped to rest, high on the shoulder of a jungle hill. The dreaming sea lay far behind them, all its deadliness hidden by distance and morning mists that took fantastic colors from the rising of the ginger star. The Irnanese faced eastward and each one poured a small libation. Even Baya bowed her head.

”Hail, Old Sun, we thank you for this day,” they muttered, and sounded as though they meant it. Then Halk, as usual, spoiled the effect He turned defiantly to Stark.

”We were not always paupers, h.o.a.rding our little daylight, grudging every sc.r.a.p of metal so that we can still have a knife to cut our meat. There were s.h.i.+ps on that sea. There were machines that flew in the air, and all manner of things that are only legend now. Skaith was a rich world once, as rich as any.”

”It lived too long,” said Yarrod. ”It's senile and mad, growing madder with every generation. Come and eat.”

They sat down and began sharing meager rations of food and sour wine. When it was Baya's turn they pa.s.sed her by.

Stark asked, ”Is there none for the girl?”

”We've been feeding her and the likes of her all our lives,” said Breca. ”She can do without.”

”Besides,” said Halk, ”we didn't ask her to come.”

Stark divided his own ration and gave her half. She took it and ate it quickly, saying nothing. She had been docile enough since she regained consciousness, going on her own feet with only a small amount of whimpering, Stark leading her like a puppy with a halter round her neck. He knew she was afraid, surrounded by people who made no secret of their hatred and with no protective Wandsman at hand to whip them into line. Her eyes were large and hollow and her body-paint was a sorry mess, all sweated and smeared.

”The old civilizations,” said Yarrod, around a flap of tough bread, ”for all their technology, never achieved s.p.a.ce-flight. I suppose they were busy with more important things. So there was no escape, for them or for us. No hope of escape. And then suddenly there was talk that stars.h.i.+ps had landed, talk about a Galactic Union and about other worlds; you see what that did to us when we knew it was true. There was hope. We could escape.”

Stark nodded. ”I can see also why the Wandsmen would be unhappy about the idea. If the providers start leaving, their whole system collapses.”

Halk leaned toward Baya. ”And it will collapse. And what will you do then, little Farer girl? Eh?”

She shrank away from him, but he kept on at her until he brought her deep anger flaring up.

”It'll never happen,” she snarled at him. ”The Protectors won't let it. They'll hunt you all down and kill you.” She looked hatefully at Stark. ”Off-worlders have no business here, making trouble. They should never have been allowed to come.”

”But they did come,” said Stark, ”and things will never be the same again.” He smiled at Baya. ”If I were you I'd start thinking about learning to scratch for myself. And of course, you could always emigrate.”

”Emigrate,” said Halk. ”Ha! Then she would have to do more than just love and enjoy.”

”Skaith is dying,” said Baya. ”What else is there to do?”

Stark shook his head. ”Skaith will last out your lifetime, and one or two more. So that's not much of a reason.”

She cursed him and began to cry furiously. ”You're wicked, you're all wicked, you'll all die just like that woman Gerrith. The Lords Protector will punish you. They defend the weak, they feed the hungry, they shelter the-”

”You can keep that,” said Halk, and he cuffed her. She shut up, but her eyes still smoldered. Halk lifted his hand again.

”Let her be,” said Stark. ”She didn't invent the system.” He turned to Yarrod. ”If Irnan is as closely watched as you say, how shall I get in and out of the city without being seen?”

”You won't have to. The wise woman's grotto is in the foothills, at the head of the valley.”

”Don't they watch her, too?”

”Like hawks.” And he added grimly, ”We can handle that.”

Halk was still looking at Baya, full of malice. ”What will you do with her?”

”Turn her loose, when her tongue can do us no harm.”

”When will that be? No, give her to me, Dark Man. I'll see to it that she's harmless.”

”No.”

”Why the tender care for her life? She was ready enough to help take yours.”

”She has reason to hate and fear me.” Stark looked at Baya's tear-stained face and smiled again. ”Besides, she was acting only from the n.o.blest motives.”

”h.e.l.l,” said Yarrod, ”who isn't?”

When they had eaten they started on again, pus.h.i.+ng themselves almost to the limit of endurance, which meant far past Baya's limit. Stark carried her part of the time, staggering a little with weariness himself and fully conscious of every ache bequeathed to him by the late Child of the Sea. They climbed, and the ginger star climbed above them. About midmorning they crossed the ridge and began going down, which was easier at first and then harder as the grade became steeper. The dim path switched back and forth across the face of the slope, but in many places Yarrod led them straight down in order to save time.

They did not quite kill themselves. They did not quite reach the place they were heading for by noon, either. Stark judged that Old Sun was at least an hour past his zenith when Yarrod at last signaled a halt.

They were in a dense grove of trees, with pale trunks all grooved and ridged and dark foliage high above that shut out the sky. Moving cautiously, Yarrod started on again. Halk went with him. Stark handed Baya's leash to Breca and joined them. The Irnanese were expert woodsmen, he noticed, and yet his ears winced at the noise they made. When they reached the edge of the grove they became even more careful, peering out from behind the trees.

Stark saw a broad sunny meadow. There was a ruined tower some distance along it that might once have been a mill or part of a fortified dwelling. Two men in bright tunics and leather jerkins sat in the doorway of the tower, relaxed and at ease, their weapons leaned beside them. It was too far away to see their faces. Scattered about between the grove and the tower, a dozen or so big s.h.a.ggy rusty-brown animals fed contentedly on lush gra.s.s. There were no sounds except the natural ones; breezes rustling overhead, animals cropping.

Yarrod was satisfied. He had expected no less. He turned to call the others on.

And Stark caught his shoulder in a grip of iron. ”Wait!”

Where a moment ago there had been no sounds, now all at once there were a mult.i.tude.

”Men. There. And there-”

It was plain for all to hear-the creak of sandal-leather, the clink of metal, the swift stealthy motion.

”All around us, closing in-”

Yarrod shouted. The Irnanese, aware that they were in a trap, began to run. Baya stumbled and fell, or perhaps deliberately lay down. At any rate, they left her.

Voices called out with peremptory orders to halt. There was a loud trampling of feet. The Irnanese fled across the meadow, toward the tower where their weapons were. Arrows flew, whickering in the bright air. Two Irnanese fell, and only one got up again. They dodged in and out among the grazing animals that snorted and lumbered aside. Then Stark saw that the men in the doorway had not moved, and he knew they were dead.

<script>