Part 11 (1/2)

Ross deduced that the captives had been transferred from the lord of the castle to the Foanna. Which meant Ashe was on his way to another destination. The Terran was on his feet and headed back, intent on returning to the sea cave and starting out after Ashe as soon as he could.

”You have found Gordon!” Karara read his news from his face.

”The Wreckers had him prisoner. Now they've turned him over to the Foanna--”

”What will _they_ do with him?” the girl demanded of Loketh.

His answer came roundabout as usual as the native squatted by the a.n.a.lyzer and clicked his answer into it.

”They have claimed the wreck survivors for tribute. Your companion will be witches' meat.”

”Witches' meat?” repeated Ross, uncomprehending.

Then Karara drew a gagged breath which was a gasp of horror.

”Sacrifice! Ross, he must mean they are going to use Gordon for a sacrifice.”

Ross stiffened and then whirled to catch Loketh by the shoulders. The inability to question the native directly was an added disaster now.

”Where are they taking him? Where?” He began that fiercely, and then forced control on himself.

Karara's eyes were half closed, her head back; she was manifestly aiming that inquiry at the dolphins, to be translated to Loketh.

Symbols burned on the a.n.a.lyzer screen.

”The Foanna have their own fortress. It can be entered best by sea.

There is a boat ... I can show you, for it is my own secret.”

”Tell him--yes, as soon as we can!” Ross broke out. The old feeling that time was all-important worried at him. Witches' meat ... witches' meat ... the words were sharp as a lash.

8

The Free Rovers

Twilight made a gray world where one could not trace the true meeting of land and water, sea and sky. Surely the haze about them was more than just the normal dusk of coming night.

Ross balanced in the middle of the skiff as it bobbed along the swell of waves inside a barrier reef. To his mind the craft carrying the three of them and their net of supplies was too frail, rode too high. But Karara paddling in the bow, Loketh at the stern seemed to be content, and Ross could not, for pride's sake, question their competency. He comforted himself with the knowledge that no agent was able to absorb every primitive skill, and Karara's people had explored the Pacific in out-rigger canoes hardly more stable than their present vessel, navigating by currents and stars.

Smothering his feeling of helplessness and the slow anger that roused in him, the Terran busied himself with study of a sort. They had had the longer part of the day in the cave before Loketh would agree to venture out of hiding and paddle south. Ross, using the a.n.a.lyzer, had, with Loketh's aid, set about learning what he could of the native tongue.

Now possessed of a working vocabulary of clicked words, he was able to follow Loketh's speech so that translation through the dolphins was not necessary except for complicated directions. Also, he had a more detailed briefing of the present situation on Hawaika.

Enough to know that they might be embarking on a mad venture. The citadel of the Foanna was distinctly forbidden ground, not only for Loketh's people but also for the Foanna's Hawaikan followers who were housed and labored in an outer ring of fortification-c.u.m-village. Those natives were, Ross gathered, a hereditary corps of servants and warriors, born to that status and not recruited from the native population at large. As such, they were armored by the ”magic” of their masters.

”If the Foanna are so powerful,” Ross had demanded, ”why do you go with us against them?” To depend so heavily on the native made him uneasy.

The Hawaikan looked to Karara. One of his hands raised; his fingers sketched a sign toward the girl.