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      Moon of Three Rings by
         Andre Norton
                      KRIP VORLUND
                            I
   What is space? It is a wilderness beyond any man's exploring, even if he
had a hundred, a thousand life spans in which to prowl the lanes between
solar systems and planets, to go questing, to seek ever new and newer
knowledge of what may lie beyond the next sun, the next system. Yet to
such seekers comes also the knowledge that there must be no boundaries
to man's belief, but rather an acceptance of wonders which would leave
the planet-bound, those who follow familiar trails, incredulous and
refusing to accept the evidence of their own senses.

    Those who do venture ever into the unknown— the First-in Scouts of
Survey, the explorers, and not the least, the Free Traders who pluck a
living from the fringes of the galaxy—to these it is a commonplace thing to
discover that the legends and fantasies of one planet may be lightsome or
grim truth on another world. For each new planet-fall brings its own
mysteries and discoveries.

   Which is perhaps too much of a pseudo-philosophic beginning for this
account—save I know of no better, not being used to making more than
trade reports for that repository of some very strange facts—the League of
Free Traders. When a man tries to deal with the unbelievable, he finds it a
fumbling business, in need of some introduction.

   First-in Scouts, from their unending quest for new worlds and systems,
turn in many weird and strange reports to Survey. But even the planets
opened to human contact by their efforts can yield hidden secrets, after
they have been pronounced favorable ports for wandering ships, or even
for pioneer settlements .

   The Free Traders who exist upon cross trade, having no fat plums to
sustain them as do the Combines of the inner planets with their
monopolies, face now and again things that even Survey does not know.
Thus it was on Yiktor—in the time of the Moon of Three Rings. And who
better can make this report than I, to whom this happened, though I was
only assistant cargomaster of the Lydis, the last-signed member of her
crew into the bargain.

  Over the years the Free Traders, because of their way of life, have
become almost a separate race in the galaxy. They own no one world
home, nor do some ships possess a home port, but wander always.

  So it is that among us the ship itself is our only planet, and we look
upon all without its shell as alien. Although not in this sense are we
xenophobic, for it is part of our nature that we have a strong bent toward
exploration and acceptance of the outer.

   Now we are born to the trade, for families live within the larger ships, it
being decided long since that such was better for us than casual and
transitory connections in ports which might lead to a man's losing his
ship. The big space-borne ports are small cities in themselves, each
operating as a central mart for a sector where large deals are carried out,
where those who have a mate and children may enjoy a kind of home life
between voyages.

   But the Lydis was a bachelor ship of the D class, intended for risky rim
trading where only men without ties would venture. And I, Krip Vorlund,
was well content to so set my feet on the ladder of trade. For my father had
not returned from his last voyage years back. And my mother, after the
custom of the Traders, had married again within two years and followed
her new mate elsewhere. So I had no one to speak up for me at the time of
assignment.

   Our captain was Urban Foss, well regarded as a coming man, though
young and sometimes thought to be a shade reckless. But that suited his
crew, who were willing to have a leader who might by some gamble
advance them well into the ranks of those who had solid credit at the trade
center. Juhel Lidj was the cargomaster, and my only quarrel with him,
though he was no light taskmaster, was that he guarded some of his trade
secrets jealously, leaving me to ferret hints for myself. But perhaps that
was the best way of training, putting me ever on the alert when I was on
duty, and giving me opportunity to think much when I was not being
official.

   We had made two good voyages before we landed on Yiktor, and
undoubtedly we felt that we were perhaps better than we were. However,
caution is never forgotten on a Free Trader. After we planeted, before we
opened hatches, Foss had us all in to listen to the guide tape carrying all
the warnings for this world.

   The only port, such as it was—for this was truly a frontier world—lay
outside Yrjar, a city as far as Yiktor knew cities, in the middle of a large
northern land mass. We had timed our arrival carefully for the great trade
fair, a meeting of merchants and populace from all over the entire planet,
held at two-planet-years intervals at the end of the fall harvest season.

   Like fairs on many other worlds, this gathering had once had, and still
possessed as a pallid shadow, religious significance, being the supposed
date when an ancient folk hero had met and vanquished some demoniacal
enemy to save his people, died as a result of his exertions, and thereafter
been entombed with pomp. The people still enacted a kind of play of this
feat, followed by games in which the lords vied with one another, each
backing his personal champions. The winners of each contest carried off
enough awards and prestige—not for himself alone but also for his
patron—to last until the next fair.


                                    II
   The government of Yiktor was at the feudal stage. Several times in its
history kings and conquerors had risen to unite whole continents under
their sway for perhaps their lifetimes. This unification sometimes
extended into the following generation, or maybe two, but eventually fell
apart through quarrels of the nobles. The pattern had held constant with
no advancement. The priests, though, had vague traditions that there had
been an earlier civilization which had risen to a position of greater
stability and technical knowledge.

    No one knew the reason for the stagnation at this step of civilization,
and no native appeared to care, or to believe there could be another way of
life. We had arrived during one of the periods of chaos wherein half a
dozen lords snapped and snarled at one another. But none had the
backing, audacity, luck, or whatever was demanded of a leader, to take
over. Thus the existing balance of power was a delicate thing.

   This meant for us Traders brain lock, weapon lock, nuisances though
they were and much as we disliked them.

    Far back in Free Trading, for their own protection against the power of
the Patrol and the wrath of Control, the Traders themselves had realized
the necessity of these two safeguards on primitive planets. Certain
technical information was not an item to be traded, no matter how high
the inducement. Arms from off-world, or the knowledge of their
manufacture, were set behind a barrier of No Sale. When we planeted on
such a world, all weapons other than belt stunners were put into a lock
stass which would not be released until the ship rose from that earth. We
also passed a brain lock inhibiting any such information being won from
us.

   This might seem to make us unarmed prey for any ambitious lord who
might wish to wring us hard for such facts. But the law of the fair gave us
complete immunity from danger—as long as we stayed within the limits
set by the priests on the first day.

   For following almost universal galactic custom, one which appeared to
be spontaneous and native to every world where such gatherings had
existed for ages, the fair ground was both neutral territory and sanctuary.
Deadly enemies could meet there and neither dared put hand to weapon.
A crime could be committed elsewhere and, if the criminal reached the
fair and was law-abiding therein, he was safe from pursuit or punishment
as long as the fair continued. The gathering had its own laws and police,
and any crime committed within was given speedy punishment. So that
this meeting place was also a site for the cautious sounding out between
lords for the settlement of feuds, and perhaps the making of new alliances.
The penalty for any man breaking the peace of the fair was outlawry—the
same as a sentence of death, but perhaps in its way, more torturous and
lingering for the criminal.

    This much we all knew, though we sat in patience as the guide tape told
it over again. For on a Trader one does not ever push aside any briefing as
unnecessary or time-wasting. Then Foss launched once more into the
apportioning of planetside duties. These varied in rotation among us from
world to world. There was always a guard for the ship—but the rest of us
could explore in pairs in our free time. From the morning gong until
midafternoon we would man our own booth for meeting with native
merchants. Foss had visited Yiktor once before, as second in command of
the Coal Sack, before he had his own ship, and now drew upon his notes to
refresh his memory.

    As is true on all Free Traders, though the cargomaster handles the
main cargo and the business of the ship at large, each member of the crew
is expected to develop some special interest or speciality, to keep his eyes
open, and to suggest new products which might add to the general
prosperity of the voyage. Thus we were encouraged to explore all such
marts in pairs and to take an interest in local produce, sniffing out a need
of the natives which we might in the future supply, or picking up some
hitherto overlooked export.

   The main cargo from Yrjar was Lidj's concern; it was sprode, a thick
juice pressed from certain leaves, then hardened into blocks which could
be easily stored in our lowest hold after we had emptied it of bales of
murano, a shimmering, thick silk which the Yiktor native weavers seized
upon avidly. They patiently unraveled its threads to combine with their
finest material, thus making a length go twice as far. Sometimes a lord
would pay a full season's land tribute for a cloak length of unadulterated
fabric. The sprode blocks, transferred at section base to another ship,
would end up halfway across the galaxy, where they were made into a
wine which the Zacathans declared heightened their mental powers and
cured several diseases of that ancient lizard race. Though I can't imagine
why a Zacathan needed his mental powers heightened—they already had
quite a start on mankind in that direction!

   But the sprode would not provide a full cargo, and it was up to us to
discover odds and ends to fill in. Guesses did not always pay off. There
were times when what seemed a treasure turned out to be a worthless
burden, eventually to be space-dumped. But gambles had done so well in
the past that we were certain they would pay off again for all of us.

   Any Trader with a lucky choice behind him had a better chance for
advancement, with hopes for not too long a time before he could ask for an
owner's contract and a higher share in a venture. It meant keeping your
eyes open, having a good memory for things recorded on past voyage
tapes, and probably having something which our elders called flair and
which was a natural gift and nothing learned by study, no matter how
doggedly pursued.

   Of course, there were always the easy, spectacular things—a new fabric,
a gem stone—eye catchers. But these were usually right out in the open.
And the fair steerer made very sure that the cargomaster saw them at the
first sighting when the big merchants met. On such sales as these
depended perhaps all a planet's lure for off-world Traders, and they were
publicly hawked.

   The others were "hiders," things you nosed out on spec, almost always
an obscure product some native merchant had brought to the booths on
spec himself—small items which could be made into luxury trade for
off-world, light, easy to transport, to sell for perhaps a thousand times cost
price to the dilettanti of the crowded inner planets, who were always in
search of something new with which to impress their neighbors.

   Foss had had a storied success on his second voyage with the Ispan
carpets, masterpieces of weaving and color which could be folded into a
package no longer than a man's arm, yet shaken out in silken splendor to
cover a great-room floor, wearing well, with a flow of shade into shade
which delighted and soothed the eyes. My immediate superior, Lidj, was
responsible for the Crantax dalho discovery. So it was that a very
insignificant-appearing, shriveled black fruit had now become an industry
which made the League a goodly number of credits, put Lidj on secondary
contract, and benefited a quarter of a struggling pioneer planet. One could
not hope for such breaks at the start of course—though I think that deep
down inside all of us apprentices did—but there were smaller triumphs to
bring a commendation for one's E record.

    I went with Lidj and the captain to the in-meeting on first day. It was
held in the Great Booth, which was really a hall of no mean dimensions on
a field beyond the walls of Yrjar, now the center of the fair. While most
Yiktorian architecture tended toward the gloom and dark of buildings
which must always be ready to serve as fortifications in time of siege, the
Great Booth, being free of such danger, was somewhat less grim. Its walls
were of stone but only part way. Inside there was an open space almost the
entire width, broken only by pillars which supported a sharply peaked
roof, the eaves of which extended far out from the walls to afford good
weather protection—though it was the dry season in which the fair was
held and usually fine weather. The light thus given to the interior was far
more than you could find in any building elsewhere on Yiktor.
   We were the only Free Trader in port, though there was a licensed ship
under Combine registry, carrying, by contract only, specified cargo which
we did not dispute. This was one time when there was truce between
off-worlders and no need for sharp maneuvering, our captains and cargo
masters sharing the high seats of the senior merchants in amicability .
The rest of us lesser fry were not so comfortably housed. We rated on a
level with their second guildsmen and by rights would have had to stand
in the outer aisles, save that we each bore, with a great deal of show,
counting boards. These served the double duty of getting us inside with
our officers, and impressing the native population that off-worlders were
rather stupid and needed such aids for reckoning—always a beginning
move in shrewd bargaining. We therefore squatted at the foot of the
high-seat platform and took ostentatious notes of all the exhibits
displayed and praised in the offering.

   There were some furs from the north, a deep rich red with a ripple of
golden light crossing them as they were turned in the hands of the
merchant showing them. Fabrics were brought out by the bolt and draped
over small racks put up by subordinates. There was a great deal of
metalwork, mostly in the form of weapons. Swords and spears appear to
be a universal primitive armament in the galaxy, and these were
undoubtedly forged by masters who knew their art. There was chainlink
armor for the body, helmets, some of them crested with miniature beasts
or feathered birds, and shields. And then a last merchant came up with
the air of one about to top the show of war materials. Two of his
guildsmen exhibited shooting at a mark with a new type of crossbow
which, from the stir his demonstration provoked, must have been a vast
improvement over the usual.

   The arms display, which was a very large item in the local market, was
more or less of a bore for us. Of course now and then one picked up a
sword or dagger to sell to some collector. But that was the smallest of
private ventures.

   It was a long session. The Yiktorians broke it once for refreshments,
passing around tankards of their bitter, and to us undrinkable, ale and a
"hasty meal" made of a fruit-and-meat paste between flat grain cakes. But
it was near to sunset before we were dismissed. By custom Captain Foss
and Lidj were to go on to the official banquet given by the fair authorities,
but we second men would return to our ships. The junior representative of
the Combine Duffoldan who had been sharing the same uncomfortable
board seat with me at the platform foot, stretched and grinned after he
slammed his note board between his middle and his belt for safekeeping.

   "Well, that's safely over," he said, stating the obvious. "You free to port
crawl?"

   Usually Free Traders and Combine men do not mix. There was too
much trouble in the past history we share, though nowadays things are
better policed than they used to be. The League has a weighty hand and
the Combine leaders no longer try to elbow out a Trader who can call upon
such support. In the old days a one-ship Trader had no hope of fighting
back. But the feelings and memories stemming from those times still kept
us apart, so I was no more cordial than mere civility when I answered. .

   "Not yet. Not until after report."

   "Same here." If my coolness meant anything he did not show it. Instead
he waited for me to stow away my own board, which I did slowly to give
him a chance to go, though he did not take it. "I am Gauk Slafid."

   "Krip Vorlund." Reluctantly I matched step with him. The exit was
crowded by native merchants and guildsmen. And, as is wise for
off-worlders, we did not push in among them. I saw him glance at my
collar badge, and I returned that check. He was in cargo, but his disk was
modified by two bars while mine bore only one. But then promotion in the
Combine, while leading perhaps to greater wealth in the end, came more
slowly.

   One can never judge the planet age of those who spend most of their
lives in space. Some of us cannot even tell the number of our years by that
method. But I thought this Gauk Slafid might be somewhat older than I.

   "Done your spec-looking yet?" That was a question I would have
thought too brash for even a Combine man, arrogant as they were inclined
to be. Yet when I stared at him, I believed he did not honestly realize that
that was one of the questions one did not ask, save of a kinsman or blood
comrade. Perhaps he had heard of Free Trader customs and was drawing
on faulty knowledge to make conversation.

   "We are not yet port free." No use taking offense if his question was an
innocent one, though in bad form. One learns to put aside offense when
dealing with aliens, and the Combine in the past had been more alien to
those of my calling than many nonhuman contacts.

   Perhaps he read something of my feeling, for he did not pursue that
line; but as we came to a thronged side street he motioned at its gaudy
flags and banners, each bearing the squiggles of local sign writing, and
proclaiming a number of amusements, both innocent and bordering on
the vicious. For, as the fair gathered sellers and buyers, priests and
respectable people, so was it the focus for those who earn their livelihood
by offering excitement for the mind and senses.

   "There is plenty to see here—or are you ship-bound at night?" Was
there or was there not a faint trace of patronage in that? I decided it was
best not to explore beyond surface emotions. We were not engaged in any
sale, and I was cautious.

   "So I have heard. But I have not yet drawn my watch button."

   He grinned again, raising his hand to his forehead in a gesture
approximating a salute. "Fortune attend you then, Vorlund. We have
already drawn and I have my night free. If you make it, look me up." Again
he gestured, this time indicating a banner near the end of the line. It was
not bright in color like those the wind tugged at around it, being an odd
shade of gray, yet also shot with rose. Still, once you looked at it, your eyes
kept returning, undeterred by the more garish lures surrounding it.

   "That is something special," Slafid continued. "If you like beast shows."

   A beast show? For the second time I was disconcerted. My mental
picture of a Combine man suggested a far different taste in amusement—
something closer to the sophisticated, almost decadent pleasures of the
inner planets.

   Then suspicion moved in me. I wondered if this Gauk Slafid was esper.
For he had unerringly picked out the one entertainment which would
draw me first, did I know of it. I allowed one of my mind-seek tendrils to
uncurl, not actually to invade, naturally—that was the last thing I must
do—but to seek delicately for any esper aura. There wasn't one, and I was
left a little chagrined at my suspicion.

   "If I am fortunate," I answered him, "I will indeed follow your advice."

   He was hailed then by a crewman wearing the insignia of his ship, and
gave me that half salute once more before he joined his friend. But I stood
for a moment or two watching that almost demurely colored banner,
trying to figure out why it drew the eye so steadily. Things such as that are
important for Traders to learn. Was it only me that it could so influence,
or was it the same for others? Somehow to know the answer became so
important that I was determined to bring someone, the most cool-headed
crew mate I could find to test it.

   I was lucky to come away from the drawing with port leave for that
night. The Lydis had so small a crew that only four of us were free, and it
can be difficult for four pledged to go in pairs if they have very diversified
ideas of amusement. Because of our junior status I went out with Griss
Sharvan, the second engineer. Well, I had wanted a hardheaded
companion to try my banner on, and in Griss fate had given me one. He is
a born Trader, generations bred as all of us. But his first love is the ship
and I do not believe that he ever, except when it was expected of him,
searched for any trade. Luckily I remembered that the deep crimson
banner of a swordsmith's display fencer flapped not too far from the beast
show, and used that as a lure for Griss. Among our own kind Griss is a
gambler, but that is another activity against which we are inhibited in an
alien port. It can lead, as drinking, drugging, and eyeing the daughters of
strangers, to trouble which would endanger the ship. Thus the desires for
such amusements are blocked for us temporarily, and in our sober
moments we agree that is wisdom.

   At the end of the show street, now brilliant with lanterns, each as
brightly colored as the banners above, each patterned with pictures
through which light shone to advertise the fares within, I pointed out that
of the fencer. The pink-gray flag was still there, but the lantern below it
was a silver globe with no pattern breaking its pearl luster.

   Griss pointed to it. "What's that?"

   "I was told a beast show," I replied.

    Living as we do mostly in space, Free Traders might be expected to
have little contact or interest in animals. Long ago all ships carried felines
for the protection of the cargo, since they hunted to rout out any pests
stowing away. For centuries they were inseparable crew members. But
their numbers grew less and less; they did not have as large or as many
litters any more. We had forgotten where that animal had originated, so
fresh stock could not be obtained to renew the breed. There were still a
few at headquarters, highly prized, protected, tended, in hope that the
breed might be reinstated. And we had all tried from time to time to
replace them with various hunters from many worlds. One or two breeds
had promise, but the majority could not adapt to ship life.

   Perhaps this desire for companion animals gives us a strong pull
toward alien beasts. I did not know about Griss, but I knew that I must
visit the booth behind the moon globe. And it seemed that I would have no
argument, for he came willingly with me.

   From somewhere there was a dull, heavy gong note. The chatter, the
laughter, the singing died down a little, the crowd paying tribute to a
temple call. But the hush did not last, for while the fair had its religious
side, that had faded with the passing of centuries.

   We came under the shadow of the pink-gray banner into the halo of the
moon lamp. I had expected some pictures of the animals to be strung up
to entice an audience. But instead there was only a fabric screen bearing
tangles of native scripts, and over the door flap a strange mask emblem,
neither beast nor bird but combining the two. Griss gave a small
exclamation as he looked up at that.

   "What is it?"

  His eager expression surprised me a little. I had seen such a look before
only when he fronted a new and intricate machine.

   "This is a real find."

   "Find?" I thought of some piece of trade luck.

  "A real sight," he corrected himself as if he knew my thought. "This is a
Thassa show."

  Like Captain Foss he had visited Yiktor before. But I could only repeat,
"Thassa?" I believed I had studied the Yiktor tapes with close attention,
but the meaning of this eluded me.

   "Come!" Griss pulled me along to where a slender native in a silvery
tunic and high red boots was accepting scale pieces for admittance. The
native looked up and I was startled.
   Around us was the crowd of Yiktorians born and bred—human as to
form, with only slight differences between them and my own species. But
this youth in his pale clothing seemed more alien to the world than we.

   He had an appearance of fragility, almost as if the wind tugging at the
sign banner over us could lap around him and carry him off. His skin was
very smooth, with no sign that any beard had ever pricked through its
surface, and very fair—little or no color in it. His features were human
enough, except for the huge eyes, so dark one could not be certain of their
color. His brows slanted so far up on the temples they actually joined with
his hair, and the shade of that growth was silver-white.

   I tried not to stare as Griss offered a token and the native lifted the tent
flap for our entrance.


                                     III
   There were no seats, but several wide platforms raised in a series of
steps at one end of the tent, such as might be easily dismantled when the
show moved. These faced a larger stage which was now empty, but backed
by draperies of the same pink-gray as the banner. A series of moon
lanterns hung from the center pole overhead. The whole effect was
somehow simple yet almost elegant, and to me not in keeping with any
beast show.

   We had come just in time, for a fold of the back drapery was lifted and
the master trainer came to face the audience. Even though the hour was
early, there were a goodly number of people, many of them children.

   Master? No, the newcomer, though she wore tunic, breeches, and high
boots similar to those of the doorkeeper, was clearly a woman. Her tunic
was not collared tight to the throat, but fanned out behind her head in an
arc of stiffened fabric that glinted along the edge with small sparks of ruby
light, the color of which matched her boots and wide belt. She wore also a
short, formfitting, sleeveless jacket of the same red-gold fur I had seen
displayed in the Great Booth that morning.

   She did not carry any whip such as most beast tamers flick about to
enforce their commands, but a slender silver wand which could be no
defense. It gleamed to match her hair, which was twisted into a high cone
and made fast with pins headed by the sparkling ruby lights. In the
triangular space between her long slanting eyebrows and the center of her
hairline was an elaborate arabesque of silver and ruby which appeared
fastened to her skin, for it did not shift with any turn or lift of her head.
There was about her a sureness, a confidence that is a part of those who
are masters of themselves and of some great art.

   I heard a quick-drawn breath from Griss. "Moon Singer!" His
exclamation held a tinge of awe, an emotion rare among the Traders. I
would have demanded an explanation from him, save that she who stood
on the platform made a gesture now with her wand and at once all hum of
speech ended. The audience paid her far more respect than the crowd
without had paid the temple gong.

   "Freesha and Freesh"—her voice was low, a kind of croon, leaving one
from the first word wanting to hear more—"give kindness now to my little
people, who wish only to amuse you." She stepped to the end of the
platform and made another wave of her wand. The drapery at the back
rose just high enough to allow entrance to six small furred creatures. Their
pelts were short-haired, but very thick and plushy, of a dazzling white.
They scurried on hind feet, holding small ruby-colored drums to their
rounded stomachs with forepaws which had a distinct resemblance to our
human palms and fingers, save that their fingers were very long and thin.
Their heads were round, and from them projected furless, slightly pointed
ears. As with their mistress, their eyes appeared too large in proportion to
the rest of their faces, which were wide-nosed and rounded of muzzle.
Each carried in a loop over its back a bushy, silky-looking tail.

   They trooped, one behind the other, to the opposite side of the stage
from their trainer, and squatted on their haunches behind the drums on
which they now rested their long-fingered paws. She must have given
them some signal I missed, for they began to thump out, not ill-assorted
bangs, but a definite rhythm.

   Again the draperies arose and another set of actors came forth. These
were larger than the drummers, and perhaps less quick in their
movements. They were heavy of body for their size, but they tramped in
time to the drumming, their coarsely furred bodies dark brown in shade,
their huge, long ears and narrow, protruding snouts making them seem
grotesque and truly alien. Now they swung their heads in time to the
rhythm, their snouts flicking at the tips.

  But they only served as mounts for yet another troop. Small heads of
light cream, with big rings of darker fur about the eyes giving the faces an
eternally inquiring look, were held high. Like the drummers these riders
appeared to use their forepaws as we might our hands; they also carried
cream-and dark-ringed tails pointing straight up.

   The tapir-nosed mounts and their ring-featured riders paraded
solemnly to the fore of the stage. And thereafter I witnessed sheer magic. I
have seen many beast shows on many worlds, but nothing like unto this.
There was no cracking of whip, no voiced orders from their mistress. They
performed not as if they were doing learned tricks, but rather as though
they were carrying out some ceremonies of their own, unwatched by those
not of their species. And there was no sound from the audience, nothing
save the different rhythms beat out by the furred musicians and the
complicated series of cries the actors voiced now and again. The snouted
beasts and their riders were only the first. I was too entranced to count all
the acts. But when at last they paraded off-stage to a roar of applause,
which they apparently did not hear, I thought we had seen at least ten
different species.

  She who was mistress came once more to the center of the platform
and saluted us with her wand.

  "My people are tired. If they have pleased you, Freesh, Freesha, they
have had their reward. They will appear again tomorrow."

  I looked to Griss. "Never have I—" I began when there was a touch on
my shoulder and I turned my head to see the youth who had collected
admissions.

  "Gentle Homos," he spoke in Basic and not in the speech of Yrjar,
"would you care to see the little ones more closely?"

  Why such an invitation had been given us, I had no idea. But it was one
which I was eager to accept. Then that caution ingrained in us asserted a
warning, and I hesitated, looking to Griss. Since he appeared to know
something of these Thassa (who or whatever they might be), I left the
decision to him. But he seemed to have no doubts.

   We drew apart from those who were reluctantly leaving and followed
our guide to the stage and behind the draperies. There were strange scents
here, those of animals, but clean and well-cared-for beasts, of bedding of
vegetable matter, of food alien to our noses. The space fronting us was
perhaps three times the size of the theater.

   Lengths of wooden screen had been erected to enclose the area.
Stationed alongside them were vans such as we had seen elsewhere for the
transportation of wares. There was a line of picketed heavy draft animals,
kasi, many of them now lying at ease chewing their cuds. Set in rows,
almost in the form of a town with narrow streets, were a series of cages. At
the end of the nearest of such rows was the woman. Woman—no—though I
could not set age to her, she looked at this distance far more like a girl of
few years. It was the elaborate coiling of her hair, the forehead decoration,
and her vast assurance which gave the patina of years closer looks denied.

   She still held the silver wand, slipping it back and forth between her
pale fingers as if it were an anchor of sorts. Though why that thought
crossed my mind I could not have said, for nothing else in her expression
or manner would lead one to believe that she had ever known uneasiness
of any kind.

   "Welcome, Gentle Homos." Her basic was low-toned as the native
speech she had used on stage. "I am Maelen."

  "Krip Vorlund."

  "Griss Sharvan."

   "You are from the Lydis." No question, but a statement. We nodded in
confirmation. "Malec," she spoke to the youth, "perhaps the Gentle Homos
will take verfor with us."

   He made no answer but walked rapidly down one of the cage streets to
a lattice wall structure at the right of the picketed beasts. Maelen
continued to study us and then she pointed with her wand to Griss.

   "You have heard something of us." She swung that pointer to me. "But
you have not. Griss Sharvan, what have you heard of us? And be no more
silent about the ill than the good, if good there has been."

   He was tanned darkly, as are all of us who live in space. Besides the
fairness of this people he was almost black. And I was the same, but under
that dark overlay he flushed now and I read self-consciousness .

  "The Thassa are Moon Singers," he said.
  She smiled. "Incorrect, Gentle Homo. Only some of us sing the Moon
Power into use."

  "But you are such a one."

  She was silent and her smile was gone as if it had never been. Then she
answered him. "That is the truth—as far as you know it, man of the
Traders."

   "All the Thassa are of another blood and kind. None of Yiktor, save
perhaps themselves, know from whence and when they came. They are
older than the lordships or temple-recorded time."

  Maelen nodded. "That is the truth. What else?"

  "The rest is all rumor—of powers for good and ill which mankind does
not have. You can ill-luck a man into nothingness, and all his clan with
him." He hesitated.

   "Superstition?" she asked. "But there are so many ways of shadowing a
man's life, Gentle Homo. Rumor always wears two faces, true and false,
both at the same time. She must be harkened to and ignored. But I do not
think that we can be accused of any over ill-wishing by any now living on
this world. It is true that we are an old people and one content to live in
our own fashion, troubling no one. What do you think of our little people?"
Abruptly she swung from Griss to me.

  "That I have never seen their equal on any world."

  "Do you think other worlds would welcome them?"

   "You mean—take the show into space? But that would be chancy,
Gentle Fem. The transportation of animals needing diverse foods, special
care—some cannot adapt to space flight at all. There is a way of putting
them into freeze between landings. But that has a high risk and some
might die. I think, Gentle Fem, it would take much planning and perhaps
a specially built and equipped ship which would—"

   "Cost a fortune," she finished for me. "Yes, so many dreams shatter on
that rock, do they not? But if not the whole show, perhaps some of the
main attractions might travel. Come, see my people—you will find this an
experience to remember."
   She was very right. We discovered as she led us up one of the cage
streets and down another that these were not places of confinement but
rather, as she pointed out, places of safety to protect her people from the
harm which might come from human curiosity. The inhabitants were at
the front of their dwellings as she stopped before each one and formally
introduced us to them. And the feeling grew in me that these were indeed
"people" with minds and feelings, strange to but approaching my own.
There rose in me a great longing to have one for a ship comrade, though
prudence argued against such recklessness.

   We were near to the end of the last street when someone came running.
He was one of the ragged "odd boys" who haunted the fair, picking up
tokens by message running, and perhaps by less legal means. Now he
danced from one bare foot to the other as if he had a message of import
yet feared to disturb the Thassa girl. But she cut short her speech and
looked to him.

   "Freesha, the beast seller. It is as you asked me to discover—he has a
furred one in torment."

   Her face seemed to narrow, her lips drew taut against her teeth. She
was even more alien for an instant, and it seemed to me that she expelled
her breath in a feline hiss of anger. Then her calm mask was once more in
place and she spoke to us.

   "It would seem that one has need of me, Gentle Homos. Malec will
entertain you. I shall not be gone long."

  What impulse then moved me I did not understand, but I said quickly,
"Gentle Fem, may I go with you?"

  There was no reason to believe that this was not her business alone.
And I think she might have said so. Again her expression altered and she
nodded.

  "As you wish, Gentle Homo."

   Griss looked from one to the other, but he did not offer to accompany
us. He made his way to the living quarters with Malec as we followed the
messenger. The late hour had filled the street here, though it was the rule
that selling and buying, for the protection of the customer, must be done
only in the bright light of day when all defects in the merchandise would
be plain to see. It was the night hours that drew men and women to the
amusements, and through that part of the fair we now made our way. I
noted that when the natives saw the identity of my companion they made
way for her, some watching her pass with a kind of apprehension or awe,
such as might be given to a priestess. But she paid no heed to them.

  Nor did she break the silence between us. It was as if, having agreed to
my coming, she had then pushed me from her mind, to concentrate on a
matter of greater importance.

   We reached the end of the straggling collection of amusement places
and found a rather pretentious tent of raw scarlet splashed with
eye-torturing green, from which came the calls of gambling games. The
clamor sounded as if such games depended less upon mental skill than
upon uproar, though I caught a glimpse of one table near the open door
where they were playing the galaxy-wide Star and Comet. And seated
there was my acquaintance of the afternoon, Gauk Slafid. Apparently his
ship did not keep the strict discipline of the Free Traders, for he had a pile
of counters before him that towered higher than those of his neighbors
who, by their dress, were at least the close kinsmen of lords, though they
appeared too young to be feudal rulers in their own right.

   He raised his head as we passed and there was surprise in his glance, a
glance which became a stare. He half raised his hand as if he would either
wave or beckon to me, then his eyes dropped to the action on the table.
One of the lordlings was also staring, and continued to watch us, with so
intent and measuring a gaze that I fell a step or two behind Maelen and
returned that scrutiny steadily. Nor did he then drop his eyes, but met
mine, whether in challenge or mere curiosity, I could not read. And I
dared not loose esper in that time and place to find out.

   Beyond the gambling tent there was a place of small shelters—the living
quarters, I presumed, for those working in the various amusement places.
An odor of strange cooking, of sickly scents, and lesser and worse smells
hung there. We turned again, picking our way around the huddle of huts
to a quieter area where there were parked the wains, or carts, of the small
merchants.

    And thus we came to another tent from which the smell was vile and
nose-twisting. I thought I again heard that hiss of anger from Maelen as
she thrust forth her silver wand, using its tip to raise the entrance flap as
if she refused to touch the fabric with her fingers. Within evil stenches
warred mightily with one another, to raise a choking cloud, and there was
also a clamor of barks, growls, raucous snarls, and sputterings. We stood
in a small open space in the midst of cages which were not cherished
living quarters, but rather places of imprisonment for their occupants,
and wretched they were.

   A beast dealer who cared for naught save quick profit and many sales
owned them. The man himself came out of the shadows, his lips stretched
in a smile which never reached his eyes in the way"of greeting. But when
he saw Maelen that smile was wiped away as if it had never been, and the
coldness in his eyes was lighted by a spark which I read for hate—
tempered by a wariness of the powers of the one he hated.

  "Where is the barsk?" Maelen wasted no greeting on him, her tone was
one of outright command.

   "Barsk, Freesha? Who in possession of his full bag of wits would do
aught with a barsk save slay it? It is a devil, a demon of the moonless dark
as all know."

   There was a listening look about her as if among all that clamor of
unhappiness she could detect a single note and was now engaged in
tracing it to its source. She paid no more attention to him but walked
forward. I saw hate burn away his fear, so that he prepared to take a
stand. His hand went to his belt and my seeking thought was a beam of
light, showing me the weapon there, a curious, secret, and very deadly
thing, unlike honest steel. This was small enough to be near swallowed up
in a closed palm, fashioned not as a blade but a hooked claw, and it was
green-smeared with what would be more deadly than its bite.

   Whether he would have used it, even eaten as he was by rage and hate
for the moment, I do not know. But he had no chance. The stunner in my
hold, set to low ray, froze his fingers as they grasped the hidden fang. He
stumbled back against one of his smelly cages and then cried out as the
creature within, only a dark shadow, flung itself in a frenzy against the
bars, striving to reach him. Maelen glanced around and then pointed her
wand. The man reeled back and down, crouched on the floor with his
useless hand doubled against him, now slobbering with a rage that choked
him so he could not speak.

   Maelen surveyed him coldly. "Fool, twice fool! Would you have me
accuse you of peace breaking?"
   She might well have dashed a bucket of icy water into his face, so
quickly were the flames of anger gone. Fear replaced hate in his eyes. The
thing she threatened meant outlawry. And on Yiktor that is the ultimate
in punishment.

    He scrambled on hands and knees back into the shadows. But I thought
it prudent to stand guard, and told her so.

   She shook her head. "There is no need to fear this one. The Thassa are
not to be befooled—as you will know—nather!" She did not speak
scornfully as she addressed him with the name for worthless-hanger-on,
but rather as one who states a fact.

   So we went beyond a dividing curtain into a place of more cages and
even worse smells. She hurried to one prison set apart by itself. What was
housed there lay inert and, I thought, dead, until I saw the bone-creased
hide rise and fall in long-spaced breaths.

   "The cart there—" She was on her knees before the cage, staring
intently at its occupant, but her wand indicated a board balanced on four
wheels, and I pushed that forward.

   Together we lifted the cage onto the cart and then pushed it to the
outer portion of the tent. Maelen paused and took from her belt purse two
tokens, tossing them to the top of one of the other cages.

   "For one barsk, five scales and two fourthers," she said to the man still
crouching in the shadows. "Agreed?"

  Mind-seek told me he wanted us out. But a spark of greed had
awakened behind his fear.

  "A barsk is rare," he half whined.

   "The barsk is near dead and worth nothing, not even the hide, you have
so starved it. If you agree not, petition the price judge in open hearing."

  "Enough!"

    I caught her amusement. We pushed our burden into the open. The lad
who had guided us hither came out of the dark and with him one of his
fellows. Between them they took over management of the cart and cage.
We took another route in return, one which brought us through a
swinging panel in the lattice wall. As the cage was trundled by the line of
the burden beasts, they snorted, and several rose to their feet, their
nostrils wide, their heads tossing.

   Maelen stood before them, her wand weaving from side to side, her
voice raised in a low, comforting croon which restored their peace. The
boys pushed the cage to the far end of the line and stood by it, waiting.
Malec and Griss came out of the booth and the Thassa youth stooped to
peer into the cage. Shaking his head, he paid the boys.

  "It is hopeless for this one," he told Maelen as she came from the now
quiet kasi. "Not even you can reach it, Singer."

  She stood looking at the cage with a brooding stare, her wand in one
hand while, with the other, she stroked the fur of her short jacket as if it
was a beloved pet animal, alive and breathing.

   "Perhaps you are right," she agreed. "Yet perhaps its fate is not yet
written in the Second Book of Molaster. If it must go on the White Road,
then it shall begin that journey in peace and without pain. For now it is
too worn out to fight us. Let the cage for the sick hold it."

    Together they loosed the fastening of the cage and lifted the creature
within to wider, freer quarters in one of their own places, a soft litter
spread to support the bone rack of body. It was larger, I saw, than any of
the animals that had been on the stage this night; standing, I would judge,
if it could rise upon its feet, about as high as my lower ribs. The coat was
dusty, befouled, dull, and ragged, but in color it was the red of Maelen's
jacket.

   In form it was an oddly proportioned animal, for the body was small
and the legs very long and thin, as if the limbs meant for one beast had
been fitted wrongly to another. The tail ended in a fan tuft, while from
between the pointed ears, down the neck, and across the shoulders was a
growth of longer hair of a much lighter shade, forming a brush of mane.
The nose was long and sharp, showing strong teeth beneath black lips. All
in all, had the thing not been so outworn, I would have said it was
dangerous.

   It aroused enough to snap feebly as they lowered it onto the bedding in
the new cage. Then Maelen used her wand with a light touch, drawing it
caressingly down between its eyes to the point of its nose, and its head
ceased to move. Malec returned from the living quarters with a bowl from
which he dipped liquid, dribbling it from his fingers onto the creature's
head, and then down the belly, finishing by getting a small measure of it
between the jaws and into the encrusted mouth from which a blackened
tongue lolled.

  Maelen stood up. "For the present that is all we can do. The rest—" Her
wand drew a symbol in the air. Then she turned to us. "Gentle Homos, the
hour grows late and this poor one will need me."

   "Thank you for your graciousness, Gentle Fern." I found her open
dismissal abrupt. It was as if she had once had some reason to seek us out,
but it was no longer of importance. And somehow I disliked that thought,
which might or might not be rooted in fact.

   "And you for your aid, Gentle Homo. You will return." And that was no
question, and not quite an order, but a statement of fact in which we both
agreed.

   On the way back to the Lydis, Griss and I did not talk together much,
though I told him of what had happened in the tent of the beast seller and
received his advice that I note it in my report, lest there be some future
trouble.

  "What is a barsk?" I asked.

   "You saw. They provided the fur displayed this morning, that which
Maelen wears as a jacket. They have the reputation for being cunning,
intelligent, and dangerous. And they are sometimes killed, but I do not
believe very often trapped alive. More than that—" He shrugged.

   We were passing the port guards when all of a sudden I caught it—not
the hatred of the beast seller alone, but that coupled with a strong and
driving purpose. So joined with the emotions they struck the mind as
keenly as one of the spears we had seen displayed by the armorers would
tear into the body. I halted and swung around to face that mind-stroke
only to see nothing but shadows and darkness. And then Griss was beside
me, a drawn stunner in his hand. I knew that he, too, had felt it.

  "What—?"
   "The beast dealer, but also another—" Not for the first time in my life
did I wish for the full inner power to read esper. As it was, sometimes a
warning could cripple instead of armor a man.

   Griss stared at me. "Take care, Krip. He may not dare to go against a
Thassa, but he may deem that you are in his reach. This must go to the
captain."

   He was right, of course, though I hated to admit it. Urban Foss might
restrict me to the Lydis until liftoff. Caution was a Trader's shield in
strange places, but if a man always clung too tightly to his shield he might
well miss the sword stroke which would free him from all danger. And I
was young enough to wish to fight my own battles, not sit under cover
waiting for the storm to sweep me by. Also, that thrust had been born of
two wills and not one. I could understand the beast seller's enmity, but
who had coupled that with another assault and for what reason? What
other enemy had I made on Yiktor, and by what means?


                              MAELEN
                                IV
   Talla, Talla, by the will and heart of Molaster and the power of the
Third Ring, do I begin my part of this tale thus as would any Deed Singer
of some upcountry lordling?

   I am, or was, Maelen of the Kontra, Moon Singer, leader of little ones. I
have been other things in the past, and am also now under bonds for a
time.

   What did we care for lord or Trader in that meeting in a tent at the fair
of Yrjar? Neither were more to us than the dust of the cities that stifle us
with their dirt and greed and clamor, and the drab thoughts of those who
will themselves into such confines. But it is not necessary now to speak of
the Thassa and their beliefs and customs, only of how my own life came to
be pushed from one future to another, because I took no care for the acts
of men, overlooked them— something I would not do with the little ones I
respect.

   Osokun came to me at the mid-point of day, sending to me firstly his
shieldbearer. I think that he held me so much in awe that he would not
treat me as one less than his own rank, though the plainsmen profess to
believe the Thassa wanderers and vagabonds, not saying so to our faces
however. He craved speech with me, said this young cub of the forts. And I
was curious, for Osokun I knew by repute—and that repute clouded.

  It is of the nature of the lords that power among them shifts often. This
one or that rises to draw under him or remove all rivals, to become for a
space the High King. So it has been many times in the past, an endless
parade of mountains and plains in their history. Under one man a kind of
uneasy peace holds, then straightway does it fall again. And for a space of
many twelves of years now there has been no paramount lord, only many
quarreling among themselves.

   Osokun, son of Oskold, had in him the fire for great things, that will to
power which, when blended with luck and skill, can bring a man
successfully to the high seat. But when it is not so companied it torments
the one who contains it, consuming him utterly. And I did not believe that
Osokun had more than ambition to arm him. Such men are a danger not
only to themselves but to their kind.

   Perhaps it is not well to be aloof as are the Thassa, looking upon others'
quarrels with amusement or indifference. For this disarms wisdom and
foreknowledge .

   I did not refuse Osokun's coming, though I knew that Malec did not
agree that in this I moved with any wisdom. I confess that I had a certain
curiosity as to why he sought contact with the Thassa, since he professed
to consider us beneath his notice.

   Though he had sent his sword-sworn to arrange the meeting, he came
himself with no escort, but rather with an off-worlder, a young man with
an easy smile and fair words on his tongue, but darker things unsaid in
the mind behind his searching eyes, whom Osokun named Gauk Slafid.

   They gave formal greetings and we gave them a just due at our table.
But that impatience which would bring Osokun and all his plans to naught
plunged him quickly into a business which was indeed perilous—though
more for him, should it be detected, than for me, as the laws which bound
him were not the Standing Words of my people.

  It was more or less this: Osokun wanted special knowledge of the
superior weapons of other planets. With this and such arms in the hands
of his sword-sworns, he could straightway set up as the war lord of all the
land and be such a high king here as generations had not known.

   Malec and I smiled inwardly. I schooled my voice not to betray my
laughter at what seemed to me to be his childish simplicity as I made him
an answer which was courteous enough:

   "Freesh Osokun, is it not well known that by their arts all off-worlders
hide such knowledge before they set boot sole upon Yiktor soil? And that
they put also such safeguards upon their ships as locks not to be broken?"

  He scowled, but then his face smoothed again. "There is an answer for
both bars to what I must have. With your aid—"

   "Our aid? Oh, we have ancient learning, Freesh Osokun, but none to
avail you in this circumstance." And I thought then that sometimes our
reputation among the plainsmen could be a disadvantage. Perhaps Thassa
power could break off-world barrier, but it would never be so turned.

   But that was not what he wanted from us. Instead he hurried on, his
thoughts and desires so urgent that his words tumbled from his lips in a
race like unto the current of a mountain stream.

   "It is the Free Trader we must pillage," he said. "This Freesh—he
indicated the off-worlder who was with him—"has furnished us with
information." He then took from his belt pouch well-scribbled parchment
from which he read and then expounded. And all the while the off-worlder
smiled, nodded, and strove to mind-search us and what lay about us. But I
held to the second level of thought and he gained naught that would do
him any good.

   Osokun's plan was simple enough, but there are times when simplicity
backed by audacity works, and this might be such a time. Men from Free
Traders are encouraged to seek out new products. Thus Osokun need only
entice some crewman of a Trader outside the boundary of fair law and
take him captive. If he could not wring the information he needed from
his prisoner, he could bargain with the ship's captain for his return.

   To this Slafid agreed. "It is a point of honor among these Free Traders
that they care for their own. Let one be taken and they will buy his
release."
  "And how do we fit into your plan—if we choose?" Malec asked.

    "Why, you provide the bait." Slafid told us. "The beast show will draw
some of them, for they are forbidden to drink, gamble, or seek out women
on strange worlds. In fact they could not if they would, being conditioned
to such a state. Therefore we cannot tempt them by ordinary means. But
let them come to one of your shows, invite them farther into your life,
interest them as much as you can. Then, make a pretext that for some
reason you must move for a space outside the fair. Draw one of them to
visit you again—and your part shall be over."

   "And just why should we do so?" Malec allowed some hostility to creep
into his voice.

  Osokun looked at us both directly. "There are threats I could make—"

   I laughed then. "To the Thassa? Freesh, you are a brave, brave man! I
see no reason why we should play your game. Get you other bait, and such
fortune as you deserve attend you." And I reached out my hand to reverse
the guest goblet standing on the table between us.

   He went very red and his hand was on his sword hilt. But the
off-worlder lay his fingers on his arm. Though Osokun shot a look of anger
at him also, yet he got to his feet and went with the other, saying no
farewell. Slafid, smiling again, gave due courtesy, having about him the air
of one not defeated but merely willing to try another path to his goal.

   When they were well away, Malec laughed. "Why do they deem us
fools?"

  But I turned the guest goblet around and around on the smooth green
board of the table and my question was:

  "What made them think we would be their tools?"

   Malec nodded slowly. "Yes, why that? What gain or threat did they
believe so powerful as to in a manner wand-bind us from our powers?"

   "Which makes me believe that perhaps I was not wise to dismiss them
so quickly." I was irritated that I had done so with such lack of subtlety.
"Also— why is one off-worlder ready to entrap another? Osokun would
deal very unhappily with any prisoner he took."
   "That much I can guess," Malec replied. "There is an ancient feud,
though not much returned to in these days, between the men of the sealed
cargo ships and the Free Traders. Perhaps that is now revived for some
reason. But that is their affair, not ours. However"—he rose from his stool,
his hands hooked in his belt—"we should let the Old Ones know of this."

   I neither agreed nor disagreed. In those days I had some ill feeling
toward certain ones in authority among us, but that was a matter private
to me, not affecting any but my own house clan.

   Our little people performed their own magic in the afternoon and the
pleasure they gave was great. My pride in them flowered as the lallang
blossoms under the moon. Also I did as I had in other fair years, set out
scale pieces for these odd boys who trace down animals for me. For I have
this private service to Molaster, that I bring out of bondage where and
when I can such of the furred ones as suffer from the ill treatment of those
who dare to call themselves men.

   That evening, when the moon globes were lit and we set things ready
for the evening performance, I said to Malec:

   "Perhaps there is a way we can learn more of this matter. Should any of
these Traders arrive to watch the show, and should they appear to you to
be harmless men, do you offer to bring them here thereafter and let me
talk with them. All we can learn will be food for the Old Ones for their
understanding."

  "Best not to meddle farther—" he began and then hesitated.

   "It will go no farther," I promised, not knowing then how quickly such a
promise can become a dawn web, vanquished by sun rays.

    In this much was Slafid right. There were Traders, two of them, at the
performance. I cannot read off-worlders' ages aright, but I believed them
young, and neither wore many service bands on his tunic. Their skin was
very dark, as comes from space, and their hair, clipped close to the skull
for the better wearing of their helmets, was dark also. They did not smile
ever as had Slafid, nor did they speak much with each other. But when my
little people showed their talents, they were as Slafid, nor did they speak
much with each other. But when my little people showed their talents,
they were as enrapt as children, and I thought we might be half friends,
were they of Yiktor.
   As I had suggested, Malec brought them behind when the show was
over. And when I looked at them closely I knew they were not as Gauk
Slafid. Perhaps they were simple men as we Thassa judge most other races
to be, but it was a good simplicity, not that of ignorance which can be
made crooked by malice or ambition. And I was moved to speak to the one
calling himself Krip Vorlund concerning my old dream of seeking other
worlds with my little people.

   In him I read a kindred interest, though he was quick to point out to
me the many dangers which would hedge about my desire, and the fact
that it could be accomplished only if one had vast treasure to draw upon.
Deep in me sparked the thought that perhaps I, too, had a price. But that
quickly vanished.

   As his kind is judged, this off-worlder was good to look upon, not as tall
as Osokun, but rather slender and wiry. And I think that, were he matched
weaponless to Oskold's son, the latter would have a surprise in the
struggle. My little people enchanted him, and they liked him also—which
warmed me to him. For animals such as ours can read the spirit. Fafan,
who is very timid in strange company, laid her hand paw in his at first
advance and called after him when he went from her, so that he returned
and spoke softly as one does in soothing a child.

   I would have explored farther this man and his comrade, only Otjan,
one of the run boys, came then with his tale of a barsk in harsh
imprisonment and I had to go. This Vorlund asked to go with me and to
that I agreed, I know not why, save that I wanted to know more of him.

   And in the end it was his quickness which saved me trouble, for that
torturer of fur people, Othelm of Ylt, would have used a snik-claw knife.
But Vorlund used his off-world weapon, which cannot kill nor greatly
harm, merely deter a would-be attacker, giving me time to wand-wish that
nather. With his aid we brought back the barsk and saw to its housing.
But then I knew that I could not be two-minded while I nursed that
hopeless one, and I dismissed the Traders with what courtesy my
impatience would allow.

   When they were gone I wrought with the barsk as best I could, using all
the skill of Molaster's servant. I thought that the body might be healed,
but so dampened with pain and terror was the mind that never might I
establish contact. Yet neither could I find it in me to send it along the
White Road now. I left it in a sleep without dreams, to heal its limbs and
body, to take away the pain of its thoughts.

   "There is no use," Malec told me near drawn. "You will have to keep it
in dream or make the sleep complete."

   "Perhaps, but let us wait awhile. There is something—" I sat by the
table, drooping with that fatigue which makes one's muscles and bones
leaden and slow to answer to an equally slow mind. "There is something—"
But the burden of my weariness kept me from probing then. Instead I
stumbled to my couch and truly slept.

   The Thassa can dream true, but only under controlled conditions. What
I pictured then in the depths of sleep was a return of memory which
flowed on to be mingled grotesquely with the present, to give birth to a
possible future. For first I held in my arms one who cried herself into a
bleak despair for which there was no comfort. And I looked upon another
who, in the fair and unblemished body of youth, was empty of all reason,
to whom no power could return. Then I walked with the young Trader, not
as I had through the fair this night, but rather in a mountain place, which
I knew with sorrow and dread.

   But man shrank into animal, and beside me paced the barsk who
turned now and again and looked upon me with cold eyes full of menace,
which became entreaty, then hatred. But I walked without fear, not
because of a wand—which I no longer held—but because I had that which
tied the animal to me in a bondage it could not break.

  And in that dream all was clear and had much meaning. Only when I
awoke, with a dull pain behind my eyes and no refreshment of body, the
meaning was gone, I held only scraps of haunting memory.

   But now I know that dreaming planted in the depths of my mind, or
awoke there, purpose that grew within me until it influenced clear
thought. Nor did I shrink from that purpose when the moment came to
put it into action, because it had grown to fill my being.

   The barsk still lived, and inner seeing told me that its body mended.
But we left it in deep sleep, which was the best we could now do for it. As I
dropped the curtain across its cage, I heard that metallic ring which had
come to mean space boots to my ears, and I turned somewhat eagerly,
thinking that mayhap the Trader—Only it was Slafid who walked there
alone.
   "Dawn light fair to you, Freesha." He gave greeting in the town tongue
as one who was entirely sure of his welcome here. And, needing to learn
the reason for his persistence, I gave greeting in return.

  "I see," he said, looking about him, "that all is well."

  "Why should it be otherwise?" Malec came from the kasi lines to ask.

   "There was no disturbance here, but elsewhere last night—" Slafid
looked from one to the other. And when we stood blank-faced to his gaze,
he continued, "One Othelm of Ylt has made formal complaint against you,
Freesha, and one he terms an off-worlder."

  "So?"

   "Use of an off-world weapon, theft of valuable property. Both are black
crimes in fair law. At best you may be embroiled with the court, at worst
expelled and fined."

   "True," I agreed. I had no fears of Othelm's complaint myself, but the
Trader's case was another matter. Osokun—was there any way he could
turn this to his advantage? By port law the Traders had a right to wear
body weapons, since the effects of those were relatively harmless. In fact
they were less dangerous than the swords and daggers no lord or
sword-sworn would move without. And Vorlund had used his in my
defense, against a weapon that was outlawed and the very possession of
which could condemn Othelm to greater penalties than I believed he
would care to think upon. Only, any embroilment with fair law could set
the Trader's superiors against him. We all knew of the strictness of their
code on alien planets.

  "Osokun's kinsman-by-the-third, Ocorr, is chief guard today."

   "What would you say?" Malec fronted this Salfid, his impatience sharp
in his tone.

   "That perhaps you have done Osokun's will in this matter after all,
Freesh." Slafid smiled his slow smile. "I think you might be wise to claim
credit for it, even if you did not intend to have this result."

  Now I could not bite back the question, "Why?"
   Still he smiled as he leaned against a cage. "The Thassa are above and
beyond plains law. But what if there be new laws, Freesha? And what if the
Thassa legend be mostly that, legend only, with little in the way of deeds to
back it should it be challenged? Are you now a great people? Rumor says
not—if you ever were. So far you have kept aloof from the affairs of the
plainsmen, you who are not men as they are men, nor women as they are
women. How do you run under the Three Rings, Freesha, on two feet or
four—or do you sail on wings?"

   I took that as a warrior might take a sword in his vitals. For such words
and what lay behind them were a sword, a weapon which, if used rightly,
could cut down all of my clan and blood. So—this was the threat Osokun
could bring to force us, or try to do so, under his hand. But I was proud
that neither of us, Malec nor I, showed the effects of the blow he dealt us.

   "You speak in riddles, Gentle Homo," I answered him in the off-world
speech.

    "Riddles others will begin to ask and solve," he replied. "If you have
your safe places, Freesha, it would be best to gather there in days to come.
You may have let war pass you by, as the occupation of lesser species. Now
it seeks you out, unless you make alliances."

  "No one speaks for many, unless he is sent under the talk-shield," Malec
observed. "Do you speak for Osokun, Gentle Homo? If not, for whom?
What has an off-worlder to do with Yiktor? What war threatens?"

   "What is Yiktor?" Slafid laughed. "One small world of backward peoples
who cannot begin to conceive of the wealth, the power, the weapons of
others. It can be chewed and swallowed as one bites and swallows a thack
berry. And with no more interest to the swallower than an instant of tart
juice taste on the tongue, too small an incident for memory."

   "So now we represent a thack berry to be swallowed?" I allowed myself
laughter in return. "Ah, Gentle Homo, mayhap you are right. But a thack
berry taken before the day of ripeness, or only slightly past that hour, can
cause a vast tumult and discomfort in one's middle. We are a small and
backward world to be sure, and now I begin to wonder what treasure lies
here that great ones from beyond the stars are seriously mindful of us."

   I did not expect to trap him so easily, and I did not. But neither did he,
I think, learn aught from us—at least no great fact such as he had revealed
when he had aimed that blow meant to rock us so we would be easy prey
for his questions.

  "We thank you for your warning." Malec's thoughts marched with
mine. "For this court we shall have our answer. And now—"

   "And now you have tasks which can better be performed in my
absence," the off-worlder assented cheerfully. "I shall be off and leave you
to them. You need not reverse the cup this time, Gentle Fern."

   When he was gone I looked to Malec. "Does it seem to you, kinsman,
that he went pleased with himself?"

   "Yes. What he spoke of—" But even between ourselves, within the
hearing of only our little people who might neither tattle nor betray aught
their ears caught, he did not put more into words.

  "The Old Ones—"

  "Yes," Malec agreed to my thought. "Tonight the moon waxes."

   My wand slipped through my fingers, not cool to the touch, but warm
with the life my thoughts relayed to it. To do so, in the very heart of what
might now be enemy territory was an act of possible danger. Only Malec
was right, the need was greater than the risk. He read my assent in my
eyes and we went to our routine of setting up the show.

   Twice during the day did I visit the barsk, each time mind-probing. Its
hurts continued to heal, but not yet would I lift the rest-slumber and try to
touch its mind. There was no time for such experimentation with this
other thing pressing us.

    We drew good crowds as always, having to turn some away. And my
little people were happy and content in their acts, both of us being careful
to shield our minds so that our apprehension would not distress them. I
looked to see the Traders, if not the two who had visited us before, then
others. For, if Vorlund had reported what had happened in Othelm's tent,
then surely some of them would come to us about the matter. But none
did.

  At nooning Malec sent Otjan to see who dealt with customers in the
booth that belonged to the Lydis. He reported that he saw neither Vorlund
nor Sharvan there. But they were doing a brisk trade and there was
evidence they might be sold out and gone before the end of the fair.

   "Which would be wise for them," Malec observed . "And the less we now
see of them the better. What quarrel these off-worlders have among
themselves, or what Osokun would do with them is none of our concern. If
possible we should also be packed and away this day."

   But that we could not do. One could sense it in the air, the feeling of
being spied upon. And by afternoon that uneasiness reached the little
people, in spite of my efforts at maintaining a mind-guard to protect
them. Twice I had to use the wand to wipe fears from their minds and I
put out the high-power globes that night to blank-out the show tent. Yet
on the surface there was naught. The fair guard had not summoned me to
answer to Othelm's charge. I began to believe it might have been wiser
had I made a countercharge first.

   We caged the little people and I put the moon lamps at the four corners
of their homes, setting up the middle power to protect them during the
hours of dark. Together Malec and I inspected the barsk, and then went to
take our messenger from its place.

   The large winged form stirred uneasily as Malec set it gently on the
table of our living quarters, half mantling its strong wings, blinking as if
awaking from sleep.

   I burned the powder and let it drink in the fumes, its beak half open, its
thread of tongue flicking back and forth in increasing rapidity. Then
Malec held its head steady between his palms so that I might fix my eyes
upon the red ones set in its narrow skull. I sang, not aloud as was the usual
custom, but with the hidden voice that no others might hear.

    To that singing I put much effort, holding the wand between my two
palms until it burned fire-hot, yet still I held it steady that the power
might be channeled through me into our messenger. And when I had
done, my head fell back and I had strength only to sit upon the stool and
not tumble to the floor. But Malec looked now into the messenger's eyes
and he spoke in short, sharp whispers, laying in its mind the words it
would repeat precisely as he said them in the far place to which it would
fly.

   Having done this he took up his cloak and drew it about him and the
bird he held to his breast. He went out into the dark of very early morning,
to seek the open field where our beasts sometimes foraged, well outside
the place of tents and booths.

   I did not have the energy to rise and leave that seat now hard to my
flesh and bones. Rather did I fall forward, my arms stretched across the
table, my head resting on the board. I was wearied to the edge of faintness
but I did not sleep. My thoughts were too alert, running hither and thither
beyond my control. And memory pricked through the present need for
sane and careful planning.

   Once more mind-pictures came to me, and in these the face of a dark
Trader fitted over one I knew much better, and both were erased in turn
by the snarling mask of an aroused animal. It seemed to me that all this
had a meaning, but one beyond my reading.

   There rose then in me the desire to beam-read— though I knew the
concentration needed for it was now far beyond my power. But I promised
myself that this I would do. Do we beam-read the future, or only its
possible path? Once having beam-read, do we then unconsciously turn our
feet into the way that sight has opened? I have heard this debated
learnedly many times. And the half belief that it does influence the choice
of one's future leads it to be looked upon with distaste by many of us. We
can be called to account for its use by the Old Ones. But now this I must
do, when my strength returned. So having made my decision, I slept, my
body cramped and stiffening, my thoughts at last leaving me in a fleeting
peace.


                       KRIP VORLUND
                             V
   The law of cause and effect is not one which our species, or any other I
have ever heard of, has been able to repeal. One can hope for the best, but
must be prepared to face the worst, so accepting ship restrict was now my
portion and logically I had no quarrel with it. I was lucky, I supposed, that
Captain Foss did not add to this relatively minor punishment a black
check on my E record. Some commanders would have. I had the persona
tape we all carried in our belts to give the true account of the fracas in the
beast dealer's tent. And, to my credit, my hostile move there had been
made in defense of a native of Yiktor, not merely to save my own skin. Also
Foss knew more of the Thassa and their standing than I did.

   Much as he would have liked to make my restrict entire, our limited
crew prevented total imprisonment. I had to attend the ship's booth
during some selling hours. But I was left with no doubt that the slightest
infringement of orders on my part would end in complete disaster for one
Krip Vorlund. And he told me that he awaited now some complaint on the
part of the fair authorities. He would be my defender in any such trial and
the tape would be my best argument.

   Most of the morning in the booth was routine. I would have no further
chance to go hunting on my own; I had forfeited that privilege on Yiktor.
But I kept thinking in my free moments of Maelen's dream of a traveling
beast show in space. As far as I knew, such had never been seen before. All
the difficulties I had listed for her were only too true. Animals were not
always adaptable, our tough species being one of the exceptions. Some
cannot thrive away from their native worlds and can eat only highly
specialized foods which cannot be transported, or they cannot stand the
strains of shipboard life. But supposing a species that could overcome all
such difficulties could be located, trained, taken out to roam the
stars—would such a venture be profitable? A Trader's mind always turns
first to that question, just as he is willing to leap beyond the next sun if
the answer may be yes.

   There I could judge only by my own reaction to the performance of the
night before—and personal judgments were chancy. We had been long
trained to use our own enthusiasm only to spark initial interest, beyond
that to test and retest before committing a fortune to any venture.

   I wondered about the barsk, why Maelen had been so determined to
rescue it. There had been other ill-housed and presumably ill-treated
beasts in that selling tent. But only the barsk had interested her. It was a
rare animal, yes, and one seldom seen in confinement. But why?

  "Freesh—"

   A pluck at my sleeve brought me around. I had been standing at the
open front of the booth and now I looked down at the ragged boy, shifting
from one bare, grimy foot to the other, his hands clasped together over his
middle as he bobbed his head up and down in a "salute-to-superior." I
recognized him as the one who had guided us last night.
  "What wish you?"

  "Freesh, the Freesha asks that you come to her. There is that which she
has to say with her own lips."

   It says much for discipline that I hesitated in my refusal for less than a
second. "Give to the Freesha," I dropped into the speech of formal
Yiktorian politeness, "that I bide under the word of my liege lord and so
cannot do as she desires. It is with sorrow that I must say this, by the
Rings of the True Moon and the Flowering of the Hress."

    He did not go. Then I drew a small scale token from my pocket and held
it out.

  "Drink sweet water on me, runner."

  He took the token, but still did not go.

  "Freesh, the Freesha wishes this very much."

   "Does the sword-sworn go about his own desire when he is under
orders from his lord?" I countered. "Say to her as I have said, I have no
choice in this matter."

   He did go then, but with a kind of reluctance which puzzled me. For the
excuse I had given him was sound and acceptable anywhere on Yiktor. A
follower was bound to his lord, and his commander's whim must be set
above, far above, any personal desires, even above his own life. Why had
Maelen sent for me, an out-worlder who had no connection with her save
that we had shared a small adventure last night? Prudence dictated that it
was better to keep well away from the tent of the Thassa, from the little
people, from all that had to do with them.

   Still, I kept remembering her silver-and-ruby trappings, herself as she
had stood, not outwardly directing her animals but as if she, too, watched
them. I thought of her concern over the barsk, her remote contempt which
had frozen the beast dealer as her wand had bound him. Strange powers
were allotted to the Thassa by rumor, and there seemed to be some truth
at the roots of rumor, at least Maelen gave one the suspicion it was so.

  But there was little time for dreaming over puzzles, for two of the high
merchants from the north swept into the booth as the boy departed. They
were not dealers in sprode, but offered other wares to make up our light
cargo, small luxury items which could be packed in the ship's treasure
room and so realize good return for small bulk. Captain Foss greeted
them, they being his own customers, enticed here not by our regular cargo
but our own light wares. These were the true aristocrats of the merchant
class, men who had founded their fortunes securely and now speculated in
things to pull wealth from the belt purses of the high nobility.

   I produced the talk cups, plasta-crystal of Farn, reflecting light with
diamond brilliance, yet so light in the hand that they appeared to be water
bubbles. A man could stamp a magnetic-plated space boot on their
rounded bowls and slender stems, and they would emerge unshattered.

  Foss poured the wine of Arcturus into them, that deep crimson liquid
which made them shine as the rubies on Maelen's collar. Maelen—I put
her sternly out of mind and stood respectfully, waiting to show whatever
Foss or Lidj would signal for, needfully alert to unvoiced orders.

   The four bearers the merchants had brought with them, all senior
servers, took their places across the booth, the small chests they had
carried hither before them. In spite of the peace of the fair they
demonstrated the worth of their burdens by the fact they were all wearing,
not the daggers of custom but, swords of defense.

   But I was never to see what they guarded so closely. For there came a
shrill whistle at the open front of the booth, and all the surge of noise to
which we had become accustomed during the hours died away to a silence
so complete one could hear the faint jangle of armor, the scrape of sword
which heralded the arrival of a squad of fair justiciars. There were four of
them, armed as if about to go against a fortified tower. Leading them was
a man in a long robe that was half white (though marked with dust), half
black, to signify the two sides of justice. He went unhelmed, a wilted
wreath of Hress leaves sitting slightly crooked on his head, so that we
knew him for a priest who had temporary duty thus, to remind, if only
faintly, that there had once been a sacred meaning for this assembly.

   "Hark and give heed." His voice was high-pitched, specially trained in
the sacerdotal style of delivery. "This be the justice of the Moon of Rings,
by the favor of Domtatoper, by whose will we run and walk, live and
breathe, think and do! Let he stand forth who Domtatoper calls—even the
off-worlder who drew weapon within the bonds of the Fair of the Moon of
Rings!"
  Captain Foss fronted the priest in one quick movement.

   "Upon whose complaint does Domtatoper's sword-sworn summon my
liegeman?" He made the conventional reply to the summons.

   "Upon the complaint of Othelm, sworn on the altar and before
witnesses. There must be answer made."

   "There shall be," Foss returned. I caught the slight movement of his
eyes and went to join him. He had my persona tape in his tunic pocket. It
would be enough to justify my use of the stunner. But how soon we could
get a hearing before the mixed tribunal of priests and merchants was
another matter, and I knew that this present conference between the
captain and the northern men was an important one.

   "Let me go," I said in Basic. "If they propose to try me at once, I can
send a message—"

  Foss did not answer but called into the booth. "Lalfarns!"

  Alfec Lalfarns, tube man, had no regular booth duties save to lend a
hand in unpacking and stowing goods.

  "This man," Foss said to the priest, "goes as my eyes and ears. If my
sword-sworn comes to trial, he will inform me. This is permitted?"

  The priest looked to Lalfarns and after a moment nodded. "It is
permitted. Let this one," he turned to me, "lay aside his weapon."

  He held out his hand for the stunner in my holster. But Foss's fingers
had already closed about its butt and the captain drew it.

  "His weapon is no longer his. It remains here—as is custom."

   I thought for a moment that the priest was going to protest, but by
custom the captain was right. For, by Yiktor reckoning, all weapons worn
by an underling were legally the property of the lord and could be
reclaimed at any time, especially if the lord considered that his
sword-sworn had transgressed some ruling.

   So without any means of defense I stepped forward and took my place
between the guards, Lalfarns following a few short paces behind. While a
stunner was no blaster, I had worn one for most of my life, hardly knowing
that it hung at my belt. Now I had an odd naked feeling and a sudden
wariness of all around me. I tried to believe that this was merely reaction
to my disarming, to the fact that I was, for the moment at least, at the
mercy of alien law on a world strange to me. Only my uneasiness grew,
until I knew it for one of the forewarnings that come with even the
slightest gift of esper most of us in the space-borne communities have. I
glanced back at Lalfarns just in time to see that he, too, was looking over
his shoulder, his hand going to the grip of his stunner and then falling
away again, as he realized that gesture might be misinterpreted.

   It was then that I took better notice of the way in which my guards
were going. By right we should have been heading for the Great Booth
wherein the court sat during the ten days of the fair. I could see the
wide-eaved roof above the tents and booths ahead, but well to the left. We
were edging toward the fringe of the fair, to the space which held the
ornamented tents of the nobles who could not be housed in Yrjar.

   "Follower of All Light." I raised my voice to catch the ear of the
white-and-black-clad priest, who had quickened step so we must lengthen
stride to keep the proper distance in his wake. "Where do we go? The
court lies—"

  He did not turn his head, or give any evidence that he heard me. And I
saw now that we were turning from the last line of merchant booths in
among the tents of the lords. There were no crowds here, only a servant or
two in sight.

  "Hallie, Hallie, Hal!"

   They came out of hiding, that swirl of men, stampeding into our small
part with their mounts trained to rear and smash at footmen with their
heavy hoofs. I heard Lalfarns shout angrily. Then the guard to my right
gave me a shove which sent me skidding, trying to keep my balance,
between two tents.

  There was a sharp pain in my head and that was an end to it for a time.

   Pain sent me into darkness, and the throb of pain brought me out of it,
or accompanied me on a reluctant journey into consciousness once again.
For some moments I could not understand the sensations that racked my
body. Finally I came to guess, and then to know for a certainty that I lay
face-down across the back of a burden kas, bound there, and jolted
painfully by every heavy-footed step the beast took. Around me I heard a
jangle, the murmur of men, so that I knew I was carried in the company of
more than one rider. But their speech was not of Yrjar and the few words I
caught I could not understand .

   I do not know how long the nightmare continued, for I slipped in and
out of consciousness more times than my painful head noted. And after a
while I prayed that I would not return from the welcoming dark the next
time it engulfed me.

    A body made tough by a whole life of space voyaging, a body inured to
all the stress and strain and dangers, does not easily yield to ill treatment,
as I was painfully to discover in days to come. I was forcibly dismounted
from the kas by the easy method of cutting my bonds and allowing me to
fall to a very hard pavement.

   About was the flicker of torch and lamplight, but my vision was so
fogged I distinguished my captors only as vague figures moving about.
Then I was lifted by my shoulder, dragged along, and with a last push sent
tumbling down a steep incline into a wanly lighted place.

   More of the speech I could not understand and a figure clumped down
after me. There was the full force of some liquid dashed into my face and I
lay gasping. Water was good on my parched lips, though, and I put forth a
feverish tongue to lick off the small moisture. A grip in my hair, which
tore at the roots, jerked my head up, and more water was poured into my
mouth, half strangling me until I made some shift to swallow.

   It was not enough, but it was some small alleviation. The hand in my
hair released me before I had more than a swallow or two, and my head
thumped back on the floor, with enough to send me off again.

   When I blinked out of that swoon or sleep, or both, there was a
darkness which was frightening. I blinked and blinked, trying to clear my
vision—until I realized that not my sight, but the area in which I lay was at
fault. With infinite effort I managed at last to brace myself up on one
elbow so that I could better see the place of my confinement.

   There was no furnishing save a bench, and that rude work. The floor
was littered with ill-smelling straw. In fact there was an evil odor about
the place which grew stronger the longer I sniffed it. A window slit, tall as
my body, made a vertical cut in one wall. It was no wider than a couple of
hand spans, but through it came a grayish light which did not master the
corner shadows. On the bench, as.my bleary eyes focused there, I saw an
earthen jug, and suddenly that became the sole interest in my world.

   It was impossible to get to my feet. Even sitting up left me so giddy that
I had to close my eyes and remain so for a space. In the end I reached that
promise of water by a worm's progress, mostly on my belly, across the cold
pavement of the floor.

   There was liquid in the jug, my hope and fear concerning which had
warred all during my crawl. It was not water alone, for it had a sharp, sour
taste which drew mouth tissues. But I drank, for I would have lapped up
far worse and thought it wine at the moment.

   Though I tried to limit myself sanely once the water was on my tongue,
easing the dry torment of my mouth and throat, it took all my will power
to put the jug aside while liquid still sloshed in it.

   My head was clearing and, after a short time, I was able to move
without bringing on a giddy attack. Perhaps the odd taste in the water
had been that of a drug or stimulant. Finally I lurched along the wall to
the slit of window, to see what lay without.

   There was sun there, though its rays reached me only as a kind of
twilight. And my field of vision was exceedingly narrow. Some distance
away was a gray reach of solid wall that resembled any fortress of Yiktor.
There was nothing else, save pavement which must run from the base of
the building in which I was imprisoned to that wall.

   Then a man passed across my slip of outer world. He did not linger, but
I glimpsed enough to know that he was a sword-sworn of some lord, for he
went in mail and helm and had a surcoat of yellow bearing a black device.
I could not see the manner of that device, nor would I have been able to
read it, the intricate heraldry of Yiktor not being one of the matters of
Trader concern.

   Yet—yellow and black—I had seen that combination of colors before. I
leaned against the wall and tried to remember where and when. Color…
the last time I had thought about color—silver and ruby—Maelen's
costume—the pink-gray of her banner which had exerted such an odd
influence— the banners of the other amusement places— Amusement
places—the searing red and green of the gambling tent that had done
more than beckon—it had screamed!

   The gambling tent! Half memory sharpened into a mental picture…
Gauk Slafid at the table, the piles of counters heaped into small towers of
luck, and to his left the young noble who had watched me so intently as I
passed with Maelen. He had worn a surcoat, too, glistening half silk of a
forceful yellow—and the breast of it had borne a house badge outlined and
stitched in black. But the bits and pieces I now held could not be fitted
into any recognizable pattern.

   Any quarrel with a native of Yiktor was with Othelm, not with the
young man in black and yellow. I could not see a logical alliance between
two such widely separated people. The beast seller would have no call upon
a lord's protection. My knowledge of Yiktorian customs was as complete as
Trader tapes could make it, but no one could absorb the fine nuances of
social life and custom on an alien world without years of intensive study. It
might well be that the brush with Othelm had led to my present
predicament.

   Wherever I now was, it was not within the boundaries of the fair. That
was astonishing. I could remember part of a journey by kas back which
meant, I was sure, that I had not been taken into Yrjar. But I had been
forcibly removed from the jurisdiction of the fair court, which was so bald
a refutation of all we knew of custom that it was hard to believe it had
happened. Those who had so snatched me, as well as he who gave the
order for it and any who conspired with him to bring it about, were to be
outlawed without question as soon as the fact of my disappearance was
known.

    What made me worth such a desperate price? Only time and my
captors could supply the answer. But it would seem that they were in no
hurry, for the hours crept by and no one came near me. I was hungry, very
hungry, and though I tried to ration what remained of the water I finished
it and then knew thirst again. The dim light went with the day, and the
night washed in, to drown me in waves of shadow.

  I sat with my back against the wall, facing the ramp down which I had
been pushed, trying to make my ears supply information. Now and again
some sound, distorted and muffled, reached from beyond the slit window.
Then came the call of a horn, perhaps announcing some arrival. I got to
my feet again and felt my way back to the window. There was the beam of
a lantern flashing across the outer wall, and I heard voices. Then a body of
men crossed my line of vision, one wearing the cloak of a noble a step or
two in advance of the other three.

   Not too long afterward there was the sound of metal striking metal at
the top of the ramp. Hearing it, some ill-defined need sent me back along
the wall to my old position facing the upper door. Light thrust down,
powerful enough to blind me, to hide those behind it. Only when they
came down into my cell could I see a little through the glare.

   It was the same party that had passed by the window. Now I was also
able to identify the noble as the young man from the gambling tent.

   There is a trick, so old as to be threadbare, but I held to it now. Remain
silent, let your opponent speak first. So I did not burst out with any
demand for an explanation, only studied them carefully as well as I could
see them, determined to outwait their patience.

    Two of the men hurried to draw the bench away from the wall, and the
lord sat down as one to whom ease of body was his just due. The third
follower hung the lantern on a wall hook to my left, and from that position
it gave equal light to us all.

  "You!" I do not know whether my silence had surprised the lord or not,
but I thought I read irritation in his tone. "Know you who I am?"

  This was the classic opening between Yiktorian rivals, a chanting of
names and titles intended to impress a possible enemy with the weight of
one's reputation.

   When I did not answer he scowled, leaning forward, his fists planted on
his knees, his elbows angled out.

   "This is the Lord Osokun, first son to the Lord Oskold, Shield of Yenlade
and Yuxisome." The man who still stood beneath the lantern chanted in
the voice of a professional battle herald.

   The names, son or father, meant nothing to me, even the lands they
represented were unknown. I remained silent. And I did not see any
gesture from Osokun, nor did he give any order. But one of his bully boys
leaped at me and slapped my face with his open hand, sending my head
thumping back against the wall with a pain so intense that I almost
fainted. Only will kept me swaying on my feet, and by will I tried to hold to
a halfway clear mind. So it was going to be that way? Whatever they
wanted of me they were prepared to gain by force.

  And what they wanted Osokun made clear in a rush of words.

  "You have weapons, knowledge, off-world skulker. Both you will give to
me, if not one way, then another."

  For the first time I made answer, my lips swelling from the blow.

  "Did you find such arms on me?" I gave him no title of courtesy.

   He laughed. "No, your captain was too clever. But you have the
knowledge. And if he would see you again, we shall have the weapons also,
within a short time."

  "If you know anything about the Traders, you also know that we are
mind-locked against such disclosures planetside."

   His smile grew wider. "Sol have heard. But each world has its own
secrets, as you must also be aware. "We have a few keys to open such
locks. If they do not work, a pity. But your captain has a bargain to
consider, which he shall be doing shortly. As for the rest—get to it!" His
last order had the snap of a riding whip.

   I do not want to remember what happened thereafter in that
stone-walled room. Those who took part in the questioning were indeed
experts in their line. I do not know whether Osokun really believed that I
could, if I would, reveal what he wanted to know, or if some monstrous
compulsion drove him to enjoy such an occupation for its own sake. Much
of it was afterward gone from me, past recalling. An esper, even to the
smaller degree, can shut off parts of consciousness to save the balance of
one's mind.

   They could not have learned anything to their value. And they were
expert enough in their dirty employment not to maim me permanently.
But I was not aware of their going, nor of anything else for a period of
time. And when pain again roused me, there was once more wan day
beyond the window. The bench was back against the wall, and on it sat
once again the jug, and this time with it a plate bearing a mass of
something congealed in cold fat.
   I crawled to that sustenance. I drank and felt the restorative of the
bitter water, but I sat for a long space before I could make myself try the
food. Only the knowledge that I must have strength of body for the future
made me choke it down, nauseous as it was.

   This much I knew. I had been kidnapped by Osokun, who hoped to
exchange me for weapons and information—doubtless that he might use
both in a bid for a kingdom. The boldness of this act meant that he either
had backing so powerful as to set aside the laws of the fair, or else that he
hoped to make his bid with such rapidity that the authorities would not
have time to move against him. The recklessness of his act was so near the
borderline of utter folly that I could not believe he meant it. Yet I had only
the past hours here to realize that he had already far overstepped all
bounds and could only keep on the same dangerous way. There was no
turning back.

   That Captain Foss would buy me with the price Osokun asked was
impossible. Though the Traders were close knit, and one of their main
rules was loyalty to one another, the Lydis, her crew, and the whole good
fame of the Free Traders could not and would not be risked for the life of a
single man. All Foss could do would be to turn to the machinery of the
Yiktorian law.

  Did he know where I was? What had the raiders done with Lalfarns? If
our tube man had escaped, Foss must have already learned that I had
been taken, and could have set in action all countermoves.

   But I must depend not on vain hope but on my own efforts now. I had
to think and think clearly.


                                     VI
   Now was I driven to loose a mind-search, exhausting as that could be.
For this was the place and time in which only desperate methods were left.
Since thought-seek operates differently between races and species, I could
not hope for any open message, perhaps nothing at all. It was as if I tried
to monitor a band of communication so high or so low that my pickup
caught only an indistinct pattern. No words, no clear thoughts, but what
did come was fear. So sharp at times was that emotion that I believed
those who broadcast it did so in peril.
    Prick here, prick there, perhaps each prick signaled the emotions of a
different defender of this fort. I raised my head to look at the pale window
slit, then I crept to it to listen. But there were no sounds without. I pulled
myself up to peer through. Day, yes, even a small strip of sunlight on the
other wall. All was very quiet.

   Again I closed my eyes to the light, strove-to thought-seek, to fasten on
one of those fear-pricks enough to read the source of that unease. Most of
them still swam in and out beyond my catching. I found one near to the
very door which guarded my prison, however, or so I thought. And into
that I probed with all the effort I could summon.

  It was as if I tried to read a fogged tape which was not only overexposed
but also composed of alien symbols. Emotion, yes, one could feel that, for
basic emotions remain the same from species to species.

   All living creatures know fear, hate, happiness— though the sources or
reason for these feelings may be very different. And of the common
emotions fear and hate are the strongest, the easiest to pick up.

  The fear that rode minds here was growing, and intermingled with it
was anger. But the anger was weak, much overborne by the fear. Why?
What?

   My teeth closed upon my underlip, I gave all my remaining strength to
the need for discovery. Fear… of something… someone… no present…
coming? Need… need to get rid… rid of me! That breakthrough came so
sharply that I straightened as if to meet a physical blow. Yet there was no
one there to deliver it. But I knew as well as if it had been shouted aloud
that my presence here was the cause of fear. Osokun? No, I did not believe
that the lord who had tried to impress his will in this cell had had such a
forceful change of attitude.

   Prick, prick… I readied my mind, pushed aside amazement, went back
to the patient mining of those incomprehensible thoughts.
Prisoner—danger— Not my present danger, no—but as a prisoner here I
was a danger to the thinker. Perhaps Osokun had so overstepped the laws
of Yiktor that those who aided him, or obeyed his orders, had every reason
to fear future consequences.

   Dared I try a countersuggestion? Fear pushed too far erupts in violence
in many men. If I added to that fear in the mind I had tapped and
concentrated upon, I might well bring a sword to my own end. I weighed
one thing against another while holding the link between us.

   What I decided upon was perhaps so thin a chance that it already lay
under the shadow of failure. For I attempted to set in that wavery
mind-pattern the thought that with the prisoner gone there would be no
fear, and that the prisoner must fare forth alive not dead. In the simplest
pattern I could devise, and the most emphatic, I sent that thought-beam
along the linkage.

   At the same time I edged along the wall to the ramp which gave
entrance to this place. I stopped only to pick up the jug, drank the
remainder of its contents, and then grasped it tightly in my hand. I tried
to remember how the door above opened, though my eyes had been
dazzled when Osokun had come that way. Outward—surely outward!

  Now I was halfway up the ramp, braced, waiting.

  Free the prisoner… no more fear… free the prisoner…

   Stronger—he must be moving toward me! Now—the rest would depend
upon fortune alone. And when one sets his life on such scales it is a
fearsome thing.

  I heard the click of metal against metal—the door—I raised the jug—
Now!

  The door swung back and I threw outward not only the water container
but also a blast of fear, directed down the link between mind and mind. I
heard a cry from the figure silhouetted against the light. The jug struck
against his head and he staggered back.

  I scrambled up, putting all my weakening force into that dash, reaching
and passing the door. The light was dazzling even in this inner corridor,
but the man who had unlocked the door was slumped against the opposite
wall, his hands to his face, and between his fingers trickled blood. He was
moaning.

  My first thought was for his sword. I staggered to him, making his
weapon mine. Even to have an unfamiliar weapon in hand bolstered my
confidence. He did not fight me. I thought afterward that the blast of fear
had struck his mind a far greater and incapacitating blow than the
shattered jug had inflicted on his body.

   With a roll of shoulder, a thrust of arm, I sent him down into the pit
from which I had climbed. He had most thoughtfully left the lock rod still
in the door and that I turned swiftly and withdrew to take along.

   So much I did before I looked around. The light here, while stinging my
dark-oriented eyes, was, I thought, after a moment or two of blinking
adjustment, perhaps that of late afternoon. How long I had lain below I
did not know, the passing of days and nights had escaped me.

   But for the moment, at least, the hall in which I stood was empty. I had
made no plans beyond this instant. All I could do was try to reach the
open, though I might not have such good fortune in another meeting with
any member of the garrison. Mind-seek was too thin to use for scouting. I
had tried my esper talent to the full when I had drawn upon it to unlock
my cell. What I did now must be accomplished largely by physical means
alone, and the weapon I carried was strange to me.

   I staggered along the corridor, ever listening for any sound which might
herald the coming of another. There was a sharp bend where another
narrow window slit gave light. I paused there to look out. Again I saw a
small piece of courtyard bounded by a wall. And this showed me a portion
of gate, now shut—such a portal as would serve a large party. If that was
the only way out of this place, I tasted defeat indeed.

   At the jog in the corridor the way turned left. Doors opened along it
and for the first time I heard voices. However, there was no other way out
save this. With my shoulder against the wall, a bared untried sword in my
hand, I began my journey.

   The first two doors, recessed in the thickness of the wall, were closed,
for which I would have given devout thanks had I been able to spare any
relaxation of concentration. Though I knew my esper was at a very low
ebb, I tried to use its remnants to feel out any life ahead.

  So faint a flickering. I already knew from the sound of voices that there
were at least two in one of those rooms, and mind-seek confirmed this.
But there could be a dozen more and I would not pick them up now. I
shuffled along. The voices grew louder, I could make out separate words,
but in another tongue. By the sharpness of the tone I thought they were
quarreling.
   Brighter light, cutting from a half-open door across the corridor. I
halted to study the door. Like that of the cell, it opened outward and it was
more than half closed. The lock looked the same as that of the prison,
some inner system which was made secure by a rod inserted in a hole and
turned. My left hand went to the one I carried. Could it be that the same
one might be used successfully here?

  First, could the door be entirely closed without arousing those within? I
dared not show myself in the open space to see what or who were there.
But the voices had reached close to the shouting point, and I hoped they
were so engrossed that my next move would go unnoticed.

   I put the sword in my belt, took the rod in my right hand. The left I
placed palm-flat against the surface of the door and gave it a gentle push.
But no such easy touch would work with this ponderous slab, I discovered.
It needed shoulder muscles to move it. I waited tensely for some betraying
creak, some lull in the conversation, to tell me that I had made the wrong
choice.

   Move it did at last, inch by inch, until finally it fitted into its frame.
Within the voices continued as I fumbled, my fingers slick with sweat, to
push the rod into the hole. It resisted a little and I was ready to leave it.
Then it clicked into place and I thrust it up and down as I had seen such
rods used before. My faint hope paid off—the rod locked.

   From the continued noise within, they had not yet discovered they were
prisoners. Twice now I had succeeded, but I must not take too much
confidence from that, for such luck was too good to last.

   There was another turn in the corridor with a window where once more
I paused to look out. My guess as to the time of day was proven, the glow
of sunset lay on the pavement and wall out there. And night is ever the
friend of the fugitive. As yet I had no thought as to what I would do when I
was out of Osokun's stronghold, free in an unknown countryside. One step
at a time was all my mind and will could encompass.

   Before me was another door wide open on the courtyard. I could still
hear the muffled quarreling behind, but now I tried to pick up sounds
ahead. There was a sharp, high noise which I recognized as the squeal of a
kas—but no man's voice.

   I gained the deep recess of this door and peered out, sword once more
in hand. To my left was a roofed space in which kasi were stabled, their
triangular heads with the stiff, upstanding stocks of black hair tossed now
and then. But there were ragged bits of leaves hanging from their jaws and
I thought they had just been given their fodder.

   For a moment I debated the chance of securing one of those mounts,
but regretfully decided against it. Mind-seek worked better with animals,
even with alien species, than with humanoids, that was true. But to
concentrate upon controlling a beast which might be unruly would require
too much of me now. I would be safer, I was sure, depending upon myself.

  The bulk of the building from which I had come cast a long shadow
ahead. I could not see the outer gate, but I tried to reach a place in deeper
shadows between two bales of kasi fodder and succeeded.

   Now my field of vision was far better. To my right was the wide gate,
well barred. Above that was a kind of cage and in it I detected movement
which flattened me 'tow against the bales. There was a sentry there. I
waited for the shout, perhaps a crossbow bolt to find me, some sign I had
been sighted. For I could not believe that I had escaped notice. When
moments passed and no discovery came, I began to think that the sentry
on duty there had eyes only for what lay outside these walls, not what
chanced within.

   I planned out a route which took me well along, first the bales of fodder,
and then the end of the stable between me and that lookout. I moved
slowly, though every nerve in me screamed for speed, feeling that a scurry
might attract attention where creeping would keep me one with the
concealing shadows. I counted the beasts in the stable as I passed, hoping
to get some inkling as to the size of the present garrison. There were seven
riding beasts, four of them used for burden. But that did not help, for this
place might have a permanent unmounted garrison. However, the small
number of mounts in a stable manifestly built to hold three, maybe four
times that number suggested that there might only be a skeleton force in
residence. And it also suggested that Osokun and his sword-sworn might
well have gone.

  There were two more of the high-placed sentry posts. But, though I
watched them carefully, I caught no sign that they were manned. Then I
ducked behind a half wall as tramping boots sounded loudly on the stones.
A man came along. Though he wore the scale jerkin of a foot fighter, his
head was bare of helm and he had a yoke across his shoulders supporting
slopping buckets of water which he emptied into a stone trough that ran
the length of the kasi stalls.

   He went out with the yoke and empty buckets. But in my hiding place I
fought down a sudden soar of spirit. For in those moments he had been
ridden by so strong a desire that it reached me as a distinct message. Fear
in him had given way to determination, a determination to act that was so
strong I had been able to read it. Perhaps he also varied from his fellows in
some quirk of mind which had laid him better open to my esper, for such
variations exist, as we well know. And this was the third boom fortune
granted me that day.

   He was acting a part, I was sure, going about his duties but using them
as a screen for his purpose. And the moment had come when immediate
action was demanded if he would succeed. Carrying his yoke and the
empty buckets, he strode openly along, while I slunk behind him, for what
he wanted was my own wish.

   There was a well in the yard beyond, and from the center core building
extended a wing at a sharp angle about it as if the stone blocks threw out
an arm to shelter the source of valued water. In the wing were more of the
narrow slit windows and a door. The man I followed did not stop at the
well. He gave a quick glance to right and left as he neared it. Apparently
reassured, he sped straight to the door of the wing. I gave him a moment
or two for lead and then followed.

  This was a combination armory and storeroom.

   Weapon racks on the walls, gear piled in neat heaps, and the distinctive
smell of grain and other food for man and beast. Behind one of the piles of
supplies I saw the abandoned yoke and buckets. As I kept on the trail the
mingled fear and will of my guide was a cord pulling at me. I came to
another door half hidden behind a pile of grain bags, and that gave on a
narrow stair, steep enough to make a man giddy to look down. There I
paused for a space as I heard the boots of the one ahead, lest my own
footgear make a noise he could hear. Wild with impatience I had to wait
until all sounds had died away. And then I went slowly, aching with the
effort of placing each foot, afraid my weakened body would betray me.
Luckily that descent was not a long one.

  At the bottom was a passage which ran only in one direction. Dark
here, and I saw no gleam of light ahead to suggest that my guide used a
lantern or torch. It must have been a way he knew well.

   Nor could I hear him any longer. Then, along our mind link there was a
burst of relief, as bright in my brain as a lantern would have been in my
eyes. He had reached his goal, he was free of the fort to find what he
believed to be safety. And I did not think he would linger at that exit.

   So I put on what speed I could, staggering on at a half run to find the
same gate. In the dark, I came up hard against sharp projections. But I
did not fall, and was able after a moment to put out my hands to serve as
eyes. Before me, according to touch, was another flight of steep steps, and
up these I crawled on hands and knees, not certain I might take them
otherwise.

    I paused now and then to feel above my head for any sign of exit. At last
I found a trap door which gave to my push. There was still not much light
as I came out in a cave, or rather a heaping of rocks I did not believe to be
natural, cleverly made to resemble nature as a cover for this door. In a
land so constantly riven by petty wars such a burrow must have been
necessary for each fort. To my mind this was less concealed at the other
end than one might have thought needful.

   For the time being my full concern was for getting out of sight of any
wall sentry. The rocks covering the exit of the passage were, I saw as I
edged along belly flat to the ground, only one such outcrop. And I thought
I could trace a pattern in them as if they marked the site of a much older
and ruined fortress.

   There was no sign of the deserter who had preceded me through the
bolt hole, but I continued to move with caution. At last I took cover behind
what could be the end of the ruins, much earth sunken and tumbled, and
for the first time I surveyed the back trail.

   The sky blazed with the particular wild color with which sunset was
painted on this planet, sometimes so brilliantly that one dared not closely
observe those strident sweeps of clashing shades. Under it the fort was a
dark blot, already closed in by shadows which accented its grim aspect. It
consisted of one inner building and the outer wall, and was even smaller
than it had seemed when I was making my way out. I did not believe it
was any holding, but rather a border post, a defense for the land it
guarded. For one thing there were no dwellings or any cultivated fields
ringing it. This was a camp for soldiers, not a place of refuge for farmers
and townsfolk as any main castle keep would be.

    There was a road by its main entrance, coming from a notch between
two lines of hills, extending into the unknown level land. That road must
tie it to both the center of the domain and the outer world, perhaps even
Yrjar. And it was my guide.

   My journey here had been such that I might just as well have been
blindfolded all the way. I had no idea whether the port lay north or south
from here, but it was certainly to the west. But I could not travel on the
road. For the first time I began to think that all my good fortune in
winning free from Osokun's keep had ended. I had the sword I had taken,
but water, food, protection against any storm were lacking. And the
energy which my will had fathered and which had sustained my ill-used
body so far, was fast ebbing. Whether I could pull myself on was a
question I was afraid to ask myself, because the answer was so plain.

   Both the fort and the place of ruins where I emerged crested small hills.
The passage which had brought me hither must have run under the gap of
low ground between. Once I had put that high ground between me and the
sentry post, I was in the clear. Then I got to my feet, determined to keep
putting one before the other as long as I could, then to crawl, wriggle, do
anything I could to keep moving.

   Time became a phantom thing without measurement, save that which
comes between one step and the next. I was favored by this much, the
methods Osokun's questioners had used had caused great pain but had
left muscle and body unimpaired for the effort I must now put forth. But I
lapsed into a kind of stupor in which another portion of my mind took
control, one which did not consciously know, plan, or live, but lay deep
below all that.

   Twice I roused enough to discover that I had wandered down to heel
and toe along the smoother surface of the road, some hidden warning
signal flashing possible danger. Both times I was able to stagger up again
into the rough land where bushes and rocks gave me cover. Once I believe
I was trailed for a space by some hunter of the night. But if that unseen
creature was intrigued by me to considering me prey, it decided again and
was gone.

  The moon was bright, so bright its Rings were shining fire in the
Sotrath, that moon, held always two rings about it. But in a regular cycle
of years came a time of three, which was a great portent for the natives. I
did not look up to that wonder, and I was only thankful for the rays which
made it possible to see the worst of the possible stumbling blocks before
me.

   It was near dawn when I passed through the gap between the hills,
needing there to take to the road. My mouth was dry as if filled with ashes,
acrid ashes which burned the tissues of tongue and inner check. Only my
well-worn will kept me moving, for I feared that if I rested I could not
possibly find my feet again, or even crawl. Somehow I must get past this
place where the road was the only exit, into the open western country.
Then, then promised my body, I would rest in the first hole I could find.

   Somehow I made it, the hills were behind me. I wavered off the open
surface into the brush, pushing on until I knew I was indeed finished.
There I fell to my knees with a last forward thrust that plunged my
scratched and whipped body between two thick bushes. Then I lay still
and what occurred immediately after I do not remember.

   A river, a precious river of water wetting me, giving my parched body
new life. But there was the thunder, the beat of rapids in the river. I dared
not allow myself to drift on into a wild stretch of water, be beaten against
rocks— Water—thunder—

   I was not in any stream, rather did I rest on a hard surface which was
secure and unmoving under me. I was wet, but the moisture came from
above, falling in fierce curtains of rain. And thunder cracked indeed, but
in the sky.

   When I levered myself up from the ground, my tongue licking at the
rain which spattered my face, I saw the flash of lightning along the hill
crowns. It must be day again, but so dark a day that there was hardly
more visibility than existed at twilight. For the moment I only raised my
face to the rain, opened my mouth to it, sought to drink it in.

   A thunderous rumble reached across the curtained sky, a wild split of
lightning, almost as bright as a ship's tail flames—I looked through a small
opening in the bushes at a party of mounted men riding as if driven by
some storm whip eastward. They were cloaked and hooded and strung
well out, with the mounts of the laggers laboring, threads of foam strung
from their jaws. The whole aspect of the company was one of some
overwhelming need for speed. As they passed my hiding place emotion
washed over me from them—fear, anger, desperation—so strong that it
was a blow for an esper mind. Under the muffling cloaks I could not see
color or heraldic design, nor did any lord's travel banner crack over their
heads. But I was certain this was Osokun riding to his den. And if it were
not already, now the hunt would be up for me.

   So stiff and sore was my body that I could barely get to my feet. My first
wavering steps racked and pained me. I had thought that I was tough and
so honed by the life of a Free Trader that I was not to be easily worn by
bodily discomfort. But now I moved again in a haze which wrapped me as
close as if I were caught in the hunting web of a Tiditi spider-crab.

   The storm creviced the ground with runnels of fast-running water, as if
so much rain now fell from the skies that it could not sink into the soil but
spun away on the surface. From these I drank from time to time, far past
caring if they carried any alien element to injure me. But if I had water I
lacked food, and the memory of the greasy mess I had so reluctantly
eaten—when? a night ago, two nights?—haunted me, to assume the
proportions of an Awakiian banquet with all the five-and-twenty dishes of
ceremony . After a while I pulled leaves from the bushes and chewed upon
them, spitting forth their pulp.

   Time again had no meaning. How much of the day lay behind, I neither
knew nor cared. The fury of the rain slackened. There was some slight
clearing of sky, but not enough to dim the light—

  Light? Suddenly I was aware that I marched steadfastly toward a light.
Not the yellow of the lanterns I had seen in the fort or in Yrjar—no—

   Moon globe—silver—beckoning— Once before there had been such a
globe. A last whisp of warning in my mind faded quickly—moon globe…


                              MAELEN
                                VII
  By the will of Molaster I have Singer's power, and having it so am I also
bound to other things—the far sight, the long sight, the spinning of the
Rings. And these be hard things to live with at times since the will within
one can be set crosswise to all of them, and if that is done then the will of
Maelen is always the loser. I, who desired only to remain at the great fair
with my little people, rose from the first sleep of night knowing that a call
had come, though I did not reckon the why and the wherefore. And in the
cages I heard the whimpering cries of my little people, who are sensitive to
the power, for its compulsion strongly touched also upon them, bringing
uneasiness and fear.

   My first thought was of them, putting my cloak about me, going to walk
wand in hand up and down so that they could look upon me and forget
fear. But when I came to the place wherein we had put the barsk, I saw
that beast on its feet, with head down a little as if to spring, while its eyes
were yellow fire and in them dwelt madness.

   "There is a sending—" Malec came to me.

   "There is a sending," I agreed. "But not from the tongues or the minds
of the Old Ones. Unless they have called upon the power and that has
answered not them but me!"

   He looked to me gravely and made a gesture which in part denied my
words. We are blood kin, though not to the second closeness, and Malec
does not always see as I see. He acts many times to keep me from what he
believes folly.

   However, he could not deny a Singer who says she has caught a
sending. So now he waited. And I took my wand between my hands and
turned it slowly. For, now that my little people were soothed and their fear
rose, no more as a wall to bar the waves of power, I could so direct it.
North, west, south—the wand did not move in my light grasp. But as I
wheeled to the east did it right itself, pointing straight outward. In my
fingers it was warm, demanding, so that I said to Malec:

   "This is a debt-sending, and for me. Payment is required."

   At a debt-sending one does not hesitate, for giving and taking must
even be equal on the scales of Molaster. This is even more true for a Singer
than others, for only so is the power nourished and kept flaring bright.

  Then I asked of him, "What of the off-worlder? And of Osokun, who has
been planning plans of darkness?"

   Malec shifted his feet upon the ground before he spoke. "Osokun can
claim blood-kin to the second degree with Oslaph who—"
   "Who has been chosen by temple lot this year to represent the lords
upon the tribunal of the fair. And also, did not the off-worlder Slafid say
his other kin, Ocorr, captains the guard. But surely neither can break all
law and custom."

   Then my certainty faded, for Malec did not speedily agree with me. I
saw that he was troubled, though his eyes did not fall from mine, for he is
of the Thassa and between us always there is truth and open dealing. So
that I now said:

   "There is that I do not know."

   "There is. Shortly after midday gong the guards took the off-worlder,
Krip Vorlund, to answer the claims of Othelm, the beast dealer. And the
party were set upon by mounted men from beyond the boundary. When
the skirmish was over the off-worlder was gone. It is believed that he is
back with his kin, and the chief priest has ordered their trade booth closed
and the Traders to remove themselves."

   "You did not tell me this?" I was not angry, save with myself for
believing that Osokun dared not move. For I should have read better in
him that he was one to dare greatly without thinking overlong about the
future consequences of any impulsive act.

   "It was more rational to believe in his escape to his ship," Malec
returned. "For it is very well known that the Free Traders care for their
own. And they might not trust the justice of the court."

    "Also that this was no concern of ours," I said a little sharply. "Perhaps
it is not—of the Thassa. I know we are oath-bound not to interfere in the
matters of the plainsmen. But this is a debt personal to me. And of you I
ask one thing, by blood right, that you seek out the captain of the Lydis.
And if it is true Krip Vorlund is not safe among his crew, you tell him all
that has passed."

   "We have not had an answer from the Old Ones," he objected.

  "I take it upon me, by the scales of Molaster, the responsibility for this."
And I breathed upon my wand so it shone silver-bright.

  "And what will you do?" he asked, but I knew that he had already
guessed my answer.
    "I will go seeking what I must seek. But also it must be done with an
excuse to cover my going. For now I do not doubt there will be eyes
watching, ears listening, marking our coming and going. Thus—" I turned
slowly and looked along the lines of cages, "we shall put up the van cart
and in it I shall take Borba, Vors, Tantacka, Simmle, and"—I laid hand
upon the barsk cage—"this one. Our excuse shall be that these ail and I
fear they may spread some sickness among the others of our company, so
it is best to withdraw them for a time beyond the crowded life here."

  "Why this one?" he pointed to the barsk.

   "For him that reason may be the truth. In the open country perhaps his
mind will be at rest and he may be reached. Whereas here there is much
to remind him of past torment."

   I saw a shadow smile about Malec's lips. "Ahy, ahy, Maelen, ever do you
hold to a wish, do you not? So still you think that you shall be the one, the
first one, to add a barsk to your company?"

   And I met his smile with my own. "I am patient, I am one with a strong
will. And this I know, not guess, blood kin, I shall be the one to command
a barsk. If not this, then another, someday, somehow."

    I know that he thought this folly. But no one argues with another on
whom a sending has been set, if that sending be one of debt payment. So
he put the kasi to the wagon yokes and aided me to place those of our
company I had chosen in the van, putting the barsk cage apart and
screened. Weak as that creature was, still it continued to watch us and
snarl whenever we approached, nor could my thought meet aught within
its skull but the churning of madness.

   We broke our fast together and summoned Otjan, the odd boy, to bring
a priest who would take charge of our booth for an hour or so while Malec
went on his errand to the Lydis and I turned east. Malec urged me to wait
for his return, but in me swelled a feeling of urgency and I knew I could
not do this, but must be on the move. For already I was sure in my mind
that the off-worlder was not safely among his friends, but rather in dire
danger elsewhere, or the debt by sending would not have come to burden
me so sharply and without warning.

  The van could not move swiftly, and moreover I must keep to its slowest
pace while still in sight of the fair by reason of my excuse. For to tumble
ailing animals would have been suspicious to any watcher. Thus, when all
inside me urged speed and yet more speed, I set the kasi to an amble as I
passed beyond the last line of fringe tents. I had believed that someone
might question my going, though I had taken care to give my reasons to
the priest and Otjan.

    Those I had chosen to accompany me on this mission, though they now
rode caged, were the keenest of mind, and the most aggressive of all our
company. Borba and Vors were glassia of the mountain forests. They were
in length the span of four hands placed end to end, and had long slender
tails as long again as their bodies .their fur as black as a night of storm
and no stars. They each had long paws with very sharp claws which they
carried sheathed, but were like a sword blade to be used when the
occasion demanded. Their heads were crowned with a tuft of gray-white
stiff hair and this they flattened to their skulls when going into battle. By
nature they were curious and fearless, willing to face enemies much larger
than themselves—and oft-times they won such battles too. They were
seldom seen in the lowlands and thus could pass for animals we dared not
lose.

   Tantacka looked more dangerous than she was, though once roused her
ire was a dogged, smoldering emotion which lasted long and made her
more cunning in attack than her appearance suggested. She was plump of
body, with a blunt-nosed face and small rounded ears, the merest stump
of tail which she usually carried plastered down to her haunches. Twice as
large as the glassia, she had power in her shoulders, for her favorite food
in the wild was found only under rocks of size which her kind must uproot
before dining. Her yellowish fur was so coarse that it resembled quills
rather than hair. She was not a beautiful animal, rather clumsy, grotesque
in appearance, but that added to her appeal when she gave her part of the
show, for those watching marveled that such an apparently clumsy animal
could do such clever things.

   Simmle was of the same general species as the barsk, though her body
hair was very short and tight to the skin. At a distance she looked to be
not furred at all, but with a naked hide oddly marked, for across the even
cream of her lower back and haunches were stripes of dark brown. Her tail
was round and very thin, like the last of a whip, her.legs seemingly skin
laid over bone with little flesh between, and the like upon her head, so that
one could plainly see the ridges of her skull. Like Tantacka she was no
beauty, but instead of clumsiness she gave the impression of speed and
wiry endurance. And that was truth, for the venzese have long been used
in the high plains for the coursing of game.

   As I drove I felt their eager inquiry, their wonder at the meaning of our
journey. To them I relayed my sense of danger, the need for wariness, to
which they responded each in his own way. And, once well beyond sight of
the fair, I brought each in turn out of the cage to sit beside me for a space,
to look upon the country, to use his own senses for guide. For they had
eyes to see what man's eyes do not, noses to lift from the breeze messages
we do not note, ears to hear what we remain ignorant of—and these were
in my service.

   Simmle was uneasy, not because of what she sensed as she sat quietly
beside me in the sunlight of the morning, but because of the barsk. To the
rest he was no kin, near or far. And since they knew he was not free to
harm them, they ignored his presence. But to Simmle he was enough like
her own clan that she was even aware of him, and I had to ease her fear,
for madness is something so alien it breeds panic in those who come in
contact with it.

   On Yiktor there is madness, the brain does not think along smooth
paths but slips out of pattern into chaos. And the mad man, the woman so
afflicted, are deemed touched by Umphra, a primeval power. No one will
harm such. When discovered they are put under restraint of the priests
and taken high in the mountain to a certain Valley. And from memories of
that Valley my mind ever flinches. To harm or kill the mad is to take into
one's own body, believe the plainsmen, that illness which twisted awry its
victim.

   But animals that go mad are killed, and I think they are the more
kindly used, being loosed so on the White Road where suffering and
sorrow are naught, drawn so into Molaster's great pattern and keeping. I
feared that I must deal so with the barsk, though still I was loath to take
that final step. For as Malec had said, it had long been my wish to add this
very rare and independent rover to our company. Perhaps I was vain of my
own power and desired to add to the small frame I already had of one who
worked well with the little people.

   We forded the river, meeting with none other on the outward road from
Yrjar than some belated fair-goers . And to the greetings of these I replied
as one who had cares, twice saying that illness among my beasts drove me
to this departure. But after midday I turned from the open road into a
side trail which still led eastward, lest some passer-by would begin to
wonder why I needs must go so far in my search for peace and quiet for
my ill ones.

   Before sunset we came to a meadow place by a stream, and there I
made camp, loosing the kasi for grazing, my other ones to explore and
enjoy their freedom. They relished this ability to nose about and lap from
the stream, though none of them wandered far from the van, and in that
the barsk remained curtained and alone.

   After my companions were fed and bedded for the night and all was
well, I looked upon the moon at its rising. Already the Third Ring was
better defined. Another night or two and it would be bright—to be visible
for sometime after. In my hands the wand caught its light and made it
dazzle the eyes. I longed fiercely to try beam-reading, but since I was
alone, and he who reads thus must in a manner of speaking depart from
the body, lie entranced so that he may not easily awaken, I did not dare.
But it was a hunger eating in me and I must rise and pace back and forth
to quiet my nerves. Though I did dare again the use of the wand, it
pointed firmly to the east.

   At last I realized I must use the Qu'lak Song to summon slumber since
the body must never be overridden by the mind, unless the need is very
great. A Singer early learns that the temptation to forget the body is a
strong one, and must ever be resisted. So I sang the four words and the
five tones and opened my mind to rest.

   There were twitterings and squeakings in the grass and I looked upon
the mists of early morning. I released my little people once again while I
prepared our food and put the kasi to the yoke. I fed the barsk and he lay
quiet on his bedding. To the mind-touch he was weaker, growing lethargic
as if the frenzy which "had eaten him the day before had bruised and
injured what contained it. And I wondered if this weakness was a good
thing, to afford me a way of reassuring and perhaps leading those
impulses back to stability. But my probe showed me that the time, if it
would ever come, was not yet.

   Once more we set out, though the trail we followed grew rougher and I
feared I might reach a point the van could not pass and I would have to
retrace my steps and seek out a side way. There was a kind of tension in
the air which we all shared. I knew it for what it was, no warning of ill but
rather the foreshadowing of what the Three Rings would bring to all who
opened their minds rightly to the power. For at this time there was little
limit on what might be assayed by the bold—though boldness is never
enough when dealing with the power.

   We were going into the hills and though this was not a country I was
much familiar with, I knew that in this direction lay the holdings of
Oskold. But I wondered at Osokun's rashness at bringing any captive here,
unless the very boldness of such a move would, in a way, cover his tracks.
None would believe that he would take a secret prisoner into the heart of
his father's domain. But was Oskold himself a party to this? That set
another design on the loom. For Oskold was seemingly a man of some
intelligence and cunning. And if he were ready to defy law and custom, it
would mean he held a mighty weapon in reserve with which to confound
his enemies.

   I remembered the half threat the off-worlder Slafid had made—that
more was known about the Thassa than was right or safe for us. I hoped
that our warning would stir the Old Ones into such countersteps as they
could beam-read into taking. Rumor has always made much of us among
the plainsmen. It is true that we are older in this land than they, that we
were once great as they consider greatness, before we learned other ways
to measure power and growth. We, too, built cities, of which only
scattered stones abide in lonely places, knew rises and falls in history. Men
progress, however, or they destroy themselves and sink back to their dim
beginnings. By the will of Molaster did we progress beyond such matters.
And to us now the quarrels and strivings of these newcomers were as the
clamor of the little people, save that the little people are moved by simpler
needs and go about their ways in more honest openness.

   All through the day did the Abiding Influence of the Third Ring act
upon us. From time to time my little people gave vent to their rising
excitement with yells or barks, or whatever manner of sound was their
normal speech. Once I heard the barsk, too, give tongue, but in a
mournful, echoing howl full of mind-pain, which sent the rest of them
dumb. I sent a sleep-wish to quiet him. Simmle gave me warning near
midday of something coming, and I stopped the van to alight and followed
her on foot through the yet frost-unkilled weeds and leafed brush to the
top of a rise from which we could see the road east. A party came along it
at a determined trot and their leader was Osokun. He did not ride in
ordinary state, but headed a small squad with no display of banners, no
way horn—as if he would pass through this wilderness with as little note as
possible.

  I watched them well out of sight before I returned to the van. My kasi
were not meant for burst of speed, but only an unvarying pace. In a long
haul they could beat and leave behind such swifter mounts as those of
Osokun's men, but no spurt was in them and I must abide by that.

   That night we reached the hills and I hid the van, went ahead to find a
pass. But there was only one cut I could find which would take the passage
of the van, where the road ran. I was very loath to return to that. Too
open, the sort of place where any lord but the most foolish would have
sentry posts. I loosed Simmle and she quickly found two—surely manned
by guards selected for keenness of eye.

   Here I could give when challenged no reason for my wayfaring. Danger
or no, this night I must summon the power, for to run on headlong would
be the sheerest folly.

   I brought out Borba and Vors and sent them to seek what we needed,
safety and solitude, not too far from the road. They were back well before
twilight, patterning in from different directions. Borba had what was
wanted. The van must remain some distance away from the spot, but
there was concealment in a thicket of luk weed, which could be pulled and
tangled about to hide it.

   The kasi I freed to graze in the dell Borba led us to, setting upon them a
no-stray thought, for there was plenty of water in a pool fed by a small
falls, and fresh plaken growing knee-high in clumps. I could not shift the
barsk cage, so I set the sleep thought deep for its inhabitant and took the
others with me.

   We ate of the supplies I had brought, for strength of body must back
strength of mind in what I must do at moonrise. Then I said "guard" to
my little people and they melted into the shadows to obey.

   I fed rest thoughts to my mind as best I could, though the Rings worked
against such a pattern. Still, that would heighten my putting forth when
the hour came. And when the moon found our hillside pocket I was ready.

  With the wand I traced out the shield and go design in the level sand
beside the pool, using white stones from the gravel of its bed to point the
ends of the three curves. And the moon globe, mounted on a flat stone so
that its rays shone over that area, gave all the light I needed. I began the
Shield Song and sang it, watching the spiraling upward of the visible
power from my stones. And then I came to the Go Plea and closed my eyes
upon the outer world that I might better see the inner.

   When one evokes the power with as little conscious guide as now I did,
one accepts what is shown without hold or selection, thus learning in bits
and pieces what must afterward be fitted together. So it was with me—for
I was as if suspended in the air some distance above a small fort, no more
than_a portal sentry place. I looked down into that with the eyes of the
mind, not those of the body.

   Osokun I saw there, and also the off-worlder Krip Vorlund. And I saw
what was done to the off-worlder by the orders of Osokun. Then there
came a messenger riding, and Osokun and his men mounted and went
forth in the dawn light.

   The off-worlder I could not reach. Between us stood a barrier I might
have breached with effort, but I felt that I had neither time at this
moment nor dared I waste the strength such effort would cost me. I could
see the spirit which dwelt within him and that it was strong and not easily
vanquished. What I could do for him I could, moving certain forces this
way and that so that he would be favored by fortune rather than hindered,
though all initial effort must be his own.

   Then I returned from that place which was not wholly one with Yiktor
but shared it only in part. The dawn was very bright and my moon globe
pale and wan. For the present I had my answer, not to go on, but wait
where I was. And ofttimes waiting is by far the greater burden.

   There passed a long day. We slept by turns, my little people and I. I
longed to know how well I had wrought for him who lay in that fort across
the land. But, though I be singer, I am not of the Old Ones who can aim
their sight at command around half the world if the need arises.

    I went to the van and tended the barsk. It awoke and ate of food, lapped
at water, but only because my will held it to that nourishment. It was no
longer savagely twisted of mind, but now apathetic. It would not care for
its own needs had I not set it to such action. Malec was right, I thought
sorrowfully, there was naught to do save set it free on the White Road—yet
I could not bring myself to that. It was as if some command I could not
understand had been laid upon me.
   Night came, but past its middle the moon was veiled, dark clouds
gathered and spun wide nets to choke the stars, those suns that nourish
worlds we cannot see. And I thought again of what it would mean to walk
alien worlds, see strange animals and people, learn ever more about all the
wonders which are the gem-dreams of Molaster. And I sang a little, not
one of the great power songs, but such words as lift the heart, strengthen
the will, give meat and drink to the spirit. My little ones came to me in the
darkness of the night, and I eased their hearts and turned outward their
thoughts.

   There was a storm threatening before dawn, so no real dawn broke the
dismal hold upon the hills. We found a small place in the wall of our dell
where we could wait under an overhang of stone, and huddled there
together while thunder strode drumming from height to height, the lash of
lightning urging it on. I have seen such storms in the uplands of the
Thassa, but not heretofore so close to the plains.

   In such torments of the sky, time and man are lost, the power to think
grows dim. There was the warmth of furred bodies close about me, and I
crooned to soothe them. For so much I was glad, that I could busy myself
so to put aside my own unease.

   At length the worst of that assault from sky upon earth died away. I was
moved then by a message of the power, not a clear sending, just a
suggestion weaving in and out of mind-pattern. With my little ones I went
to the poolside and.there rescued the moon globe from a stone now
encircled by rising water. I went down the dale to a place where the grass
was less thick and there were outcrops of stone. On one of these I set up
the moon globe, alight once more as if it could serve as a beacon. But for
what, or whom, I was not yet sure. The belief grew in me that he whom I
sought would be so drawn, providing such fortune as I had spun for him
had been of tight enough thread.

   Simmle growled and rose to her feet, showing her teeth in a snarl.
Borba and Vors lifted their heads, crests flattened, ready to do battle,
while Tantacka shifted her weight from left to right and back again on her
broad pawed forefeet, rumbling deep in her throat so her warning was
more vibration than audible sound.

  Down the slope wavered a figure, pulling itself onward by grasping
bush and sapling, going to the knees, yet always rising doggedly to
advance, until at last it fell and slid limply down into the circle of
moon-globe radiance, mud encasing much of its length. I stooped and
gripped a shoulder, exerted my strength to turn over that flaccid body.

   The face was mud-splattered, cut, bruised, swollen, yet the one I had
expected to see. The off-worlder had won out of Osokun's hold and
through the hills. Now I was ready to repay my debt—but how? For it was
well like he had come from one danger into another equally as great. We
stood on the border of Oskold's land where none would gainsay his
orders—or rather I stood, and Krip Vorlund lay in a swound now so deep
that I could not probe it. Like the barsk, he slept and perhaps was the
better for fleeing the here and now. And so passed much of that day.


                      KRIP VORLUND
                           VIII
   There was a singing, low and sweet, a croon which sounded in my ears
as the wind which the space-borne so seldom feel on their bodies. And
from whatever place Krip Vorlund had gone into hiding, I was pulled back
to be one again, body and spirit locked together. When I opened my eyes
to look about me, it was upon a strange company. Still, their strangeness
did not truly amaze me; it was as if I had expected to see each and every
one of them—girl's face with silver hair escaping about it from the hood of
a cloak, furred muzzles with bright animal eyes glistening inquisitively
about them.

   "You are—Maelen—" My voice surprised me, for it was a hoarse
croaking.

   She of the hood nodded. "I am Maelen." But she spoke absently and her
head turned as if she stared beyond in search of something she feared to
see. All the other heads swung also, and from them came snarls and
growls, low and rumbling, each differently pitched. My drowsy content
vanished, apprehension awoke.

   Her hand lifted and light glowed along that which she held between her
fingers, the wand. She put this with care on the flattened palm of her
other hand. I saw, though she did not touch it, the rod stir of itself and
turn to point in the same direction her eyes sought.

  As if by a signal, the furred ones vanished into the gloom beyond the
borders of the lamplight in which I lay. Now Maelen took up again the
wand and pointed with it to the moon globe, which died into nothingness.
She leaned closer over me, her weather cloak out in wide wings tenting us
both.

  "Quiet!" Her order was a mere puff of breath.

   I found I was listening, straining to hear whatever her ears also sought.
There was the sighing of the wind, the splashing of water not too far away,
other sounds of the open—nothing more—save the rising pound of my own
blood in my ears.

   So we waited for a space I could not measure, save it seemed very long.
Then once more she spoke, perhaps to me, perhaps only voicing her
thought.

  "So—they hunt."

  "Me?" I whispered.

  "You." I did not need confirmation of that.

   "Listen now," she continued swiftly. "There are more than just Osokun's
sword-sworn—these come from before and behind. And—" she hesitated,
"I do not see how we can get through the net they weave for our taking."

  "It is not your trouble—"

   Her finger tips pressed upon my lips, cool and strong. "Mine the debt,
man of the star lanes, mine the payment, so say the scales of Molaster—the
scales of Molaster," she repeated. Then after a pause, she whispered again,
"should I give you another skin, Krip Vorlund, for the undoing of the
enemy?"

   "What do you mean?" It seemed to me, although the cloak about us
cast a dark pool of shadow, I could see her two eyes a little above me as
sparks of frosty light, much as a beast's eyes will shine in the night if
caught by a torch's ray.

  "To my mind has come the answer of Molaster." She sounded
bewildered, the confidence I had always seen in her shaken. "But you are
not Thassa—not Thassa—" Her voice trailed away into a moment of
silence. Then she spoke with her old assurance. "So be it, if you choose, so
be it! Hark well now, off-worlder. I do not think we have a chance to elude
those who search these hills. By their thought-throws I read they would
have your death and that speedily if they come upon you."

  "That I can believe," I told her dryly. "Have you time to get away? I may
not be a trained swordsman but—"

   I think she found that amusing, the sound she gave might have been a
tiny laugh. "Brave, oh, brave star rover! But we have not come to such
straits yet. There is another path, though a very strange one, and you may
think being cut down by the blades of Osokun's men better than the
walking of it."

   Perhaps I read challenge into what was only warning, but I reacted
stubbornly to her words. "Show me this path, if you think it means
escape."

  "There is this, you may change bodies—"

  "What!" I struggled to sit up, pushed her so that we both overbalanced
and struck the ground.

   "I am not the enemy!" Her hands thrust against my chest, punishing
old bruises and making me wince. "Another body is what I said, and what
I meant, Krip Vorlund."

  "And this body I now wear?" I could not believe that she was serious.

  "Let Osokun's men take it and welcome."

  "Thank you!" I retorted. "Either I lose my life in my body, or they kill
my body and leave me outside somewhere." The utter folly of what I said
made me laugh a little hysterically.

   "No!" Maelen retorted. She had pulled her cloak away and we sat facing
each other in the twilight. I could see her face, but it was hard to read her
expression, though I believed she was in earnest and meant exactly what
she said.

   "They will not harm your body, once you have gone from it. They will
believe you under the cloak of Umphra."
   "So they would let my body go?" I decided to humor her. My mind was
in an odd state, nothing about this adventure had any reality by the
standards I knew. I began to think it was one of those vivid dreams which
now and then visit a sleeper, plunging him into an inner state of
awareness so that he believes he is awake, not sleeping, as he undertakes
impossible feats. It was beginning to seem, in this real dream, that
perhaps all things were possible.

  "Your body would not be tenantless, for two spirits will pass from one
housing to another. For a space only need this be, as we can then retake
your body and once more exchange."

   "Because they would leave it here?" I continued, willing to go along with
the fantasy.

   "No, they would take it to the Temple of Umphra. And we would have
to follow, even to the Valley of the Forgotten." Her head turned away and I
had a feeling that what she said had some meaning for her which had
nothing to do with me.

  "And where would I be while we went hunting my body?"

   "In another body, perhaps even better fashioned for what might have to
be done."

   This was a dream, of course. I no longer questioned that it might be
anything else. Perhaps it was all a dream—my escape from the fort which
had been so oddly favored by fortune, the nightmare journey through the
hills and the storm, my coming here. Perhaps the dream extended even
further—I had never been kidnaped from the fair, I lay safely now in my
ship bunk and dreamed all this. And an odd curiosity awoke in me. I
wanted to know how far this dream would take me and what new and
weird action would come next.

   "Let it be as you wish," I said, and I laughed, for I knew that neither
this, nor the waking hours of my life were real.

   She looked at me again. Once more I fancied I saw those sparks in her
eyes.

  "Truly you come of a strong race, star rover. Perhaps, though, seeing
much along the space lanes leaves one with a loss of astonishment and a
capacity for accepting what may or must come. But it is not because I
wish it so, this must be your desire."

  "Then it is." I humored her in my dream.

   "Stay you here and rest." Her hands on my shoulders pushed me back
to lie as I had when first aroused to this part of my dream. I lay there
wondering what would come next. Would I be waking in my bunk on the
Lydis? One's dreams are boring to listeners, but this was so strange a one
that if I could remember it once I roused I would tell it. Still I rested on
the grass and saw sky above, smelled woodland scents and heard wind and
the splash of water.

   I closed my eyes and willed myself to wake. But it was an art beyond
me, for the dream continued as vividly as ever. Something stirred beside
me, I turned my head and opened my eyes. There was a furred head there,
eyes peering at me intently. The fur was dark save for a crest of gray which
stood erect, giving the animal the appearance of wearing a helm of dark
metal surmounted by a standing plume, not unlike those of the sea rovers
of Rankini.

   Sea rovers of Rankini… my mind strayed, floated… but surely they had
not been part of a dream, this or any other. I had stood with Lidj on one of
their floating trade rafts and exchanged steel harpoon points for Aadaa
perls. Rankini, Tyr, Gorth—worlds I had known. I strung them from
memory as one would slip beads along a string. Now they were spinning
around those worlds… whirling… whirling… No, I was whirling dizzily,
memory fled, and close after it all awareness.

                      "Ayee, Ayee—run on four feet.
                    Scent well the wind's messages—
                          Be wise and be fleet—
                             Strong and fair.
                        Arise and greet the moon.
                  By Molaster, and the Law of Qu'eeth,
                     By two power, into four power.
                      Up, runner of the high places!
                        Greet the sun after night,
                 For this be the dawn of your birthing!"

  I opened my eyes. Then I screamed, for the world I looked upon was
distorted, a matter of odd shapes, shades—so altered that terror walked
there for me. But no scream did my ears record, rather a howl with naked
fear in it.

    "Fear not, the change is good, good! I had hoped only, but it is good! In
all parts did you travel and arrive."

  Did I hear that with my ears, or did it form only in my brain?

  "No—no!" I tried to shriek, which I had not done when Osokun's men
had worked to bring cries from me. But again came only a kind of barking.

  "Why do you fear?" The voice sounded puzzled, even annoyed. "I tell
you, it is even as I have said, the exchange went well. And just in time.
Simmle says that they come. Lie you still."

   Lie still? Exchange? I tried to put my hand to my head which still
whirled. But no hand moved, though flesh and muscle obeyed the
commands of my brain. I looked again. There was a paw covered with red
fur, attached to a long thin leg, and that leg to a body—and the body—I
was in that body! But no, this was not true, it could not be! I struggled
wildly as in a nightmare. Awake, just let me awake! A man could go mad
in such a dream. Awake!

   "Let me out!" I might have been a child shut into a terrifying dark
cupboard. But no words, only a yipping came from my jaws. I realized
dimly that this panic was indeed driving me into a darkness from which
there might not be any return at all. I fought then, as I have never had
reason to fight before—not any outward enemy, but the terror which was
imprisoned with me in this alien body.

   I felt a touch on my head and jerked away, looked into animal eyes set
in a cream-tan animal face. From sharply pointed jaws a tongue issued to
lick me.

   Reassurance was relayed by my heightened senses from that touch. And
somehow it drew me back from the brink of madness. I blinked, tried the
better to see the face of my companion, and found that this small
concentration did make a difference. The distortion was fading, adjusting.
I could see clearer with every second. The licking went on and the comfort
soaked into me.
   Stand up—I wanted to stand up. I wavered, staggered. To rise to four
feet was not the same as standing upon two. I lifted my head. Scents, my
nose drowned in scents; so thickly did they assault my nostrils that it was
as if all possible odors had been sprayed into one ship's cabin and I was
locked therein. I choked, thought that I could not breathe. But I did and
the scents began to carry messages which I only partially understood. I
tried to creep as a man would go on all fours, and tottered a step or two.
The animal that had licked my head shouldered against me in support
until I managed to stand without wavering. To look about me from this
new angle was another thing to be learned, and I had by no means
mastered it when there was a disturbance behind me.

   The animal at my shoulder snarled, and I heard answering rumbles
from the bushes a little beyond. Menace and danger read so sharply in
those growls that I pushed around and raised my head to the highest to
see who came.

   Distortion remained, changes in size bewildered me. Again the scents
were overpowering. But I was able to make out Maelen, her back to us, the
long folds of her cloak sweeping the ground, confronting a group of men.
Two were mounted and held the reins of riderless kasi, three advanced on
foot, swords sharp and bright in their hands.

   I felt lips wrinkle back from the teeth now mine, an unconscious
reaction to the odor of men. For I now discovered that emotions were part
of some scents, and here were to be felt anger, cruel triumph, and danger.
The snarl of the animal that flanked me grew louder.

  "—come for him—"

  What had been a gargle of meaningless sounds sorted out into words.
Or was it that I read those words as they filtered through the mind of
Maelen, who displayed no surprise or dismay.

  "What you have made of him, that is here."

   She turned her head as if to point out what they sought with her eyes.
Someone sat, or rather lolled, upon the ground. Slack lips hung loose with
a thread of spittle spinning from the lower. I blinked, closed my eyes tight,
and willed not to see what was there. But when I opened them again, it
remained the same.
   How many men ever looked upon themselves, not in a mirror's surface,
but as if their bodies had a life apart from their intelligence—their
essence? To my belief such was impossible. Yet I stood now on four legs
and looked through alien eyes to see and scent what was—me!

   Maelen went to that sprawling body, put her hands to its shoulders,
urged it up. But it seemed that my husk was just that, a husk which had
naught left to animate it. It lived, yes, for I could see the breast through
the ragged tunic rise and fall with great shuddering breaths. As she pulled
and tugged to get it up it moaned and whined. I howled and one of the
sword-bearers started, swung around to eye me.

   "Be quiet, Jorth!" Maelen's words were in my head, and I guessed she
spoke to me, not to the shambling thing which she had at last standing,
though she had to support it, for it appeared to want to drop to earth
again.

   Her order was enforced by the beast beside me, who nipped delicately
at my ear and from whom came a telepathic warning.

   Maelen led the body—somehow I could no longer think of it as my
body—a few stumbling steps forward. And the men stared at the drooling,
witless thing, stirring uneasily.

  "Your work, sword-sworn?" Maelen demanded of them. "So did this one
come to me, and you know who I am."

   It would seem that they did, with awe and a little more than awe—fear.
I saw two of them make gestures toward her as if to ward off ill fortune.

   "Thus do I lay upon you your debt, men of— of—" she looked at them
intently "Oskold. This one is under the cloak of Umphra, do you deny it?"

  One by one, if reluctantly, they shook their heads. Those with the bared
swords sheathed them.

  "Then do you with him what must be done."

   I thought, from the looks they shared, that they would object. But if
they were so inclined her manner quelled such protests. One of them led
out a kas and between them they got the thing that was no longer a man
up on the beast's back and there made fast. Then they turned and rode
away into the very early sun, which came from behind a cloud to illumine
the dell.

   "Why? What?" Yaps from my mouth, but she must have read my
thoughts, for once they were gone she came swiftly and knelt before me,
putting her hands out to hold my head firmly while she looked into my
eyes.

  "Our plan is working, Krip Vorlund. Now, give them a small lead, and
we follow!"

  "What have you done to me and why?"

   Now she stared again into my eyes, her attitude one of puzzlement. "I
have done as you desired, star rover, given you a new body and taken care
to save the old, that you might not bubble forth your life's blood from
rents their swords would make. So—" she shook her head slowly, "you did
not believe that this could be done, even when you said aye to the doing!
But it is done and lies now on the scales of Molaster."

  "My—that body—can I get it back? And— what—what am I now?"

    She answered my second question first. There was a small overflow of
pool like unto a shallow plate of water. To this I was guided by her hand
on the nape of my neck. Over it she passed her wand, and the water was
still and calm so that I looked into it as I might a mirror. I saw an animal
head, with a thick mane between the ears and running down the
shoulders, red fur with a golden note—

  "The barsk!"

    "Yes, the barsk," she said. "And the body—they will take it, as they must
or else face certain darkness now and ever after, to a place of refuge. We
will follow and, once in the Valley of Forgetting, we shall be safe from
Oskold. For those were Oskold's men, which means that much of this
country is a death trap, or would be if you still abode in your former shell.
Safe from Oskold you may once more be yourself and then move as you see
fit."

  She spoke the truth as she knew it. I had one last lingering thread of
hope.
   "This is a dream," I said to myself, not to her.

  Again her eyes met mine and in them, as well as in the words she spoke,
was that which cut the threat for me.

   "No dream, star rover, no dream."

   "And now," she rose. "We shall go, but not too fast on their heels lest
suspicion be roused. Oskold is no fool and I think that Osokun has plunged
his father, through his recklessness, into deep folly. I have saved you by the
only method I knew, Krip Vorlund, however ill it may be to your eyes."

   So I followed her out of the dell in the guise of an animal who owed her
allegiance. For now I discovered that though the barsk body held the
essence of a man, yet also was I now attuned in a new way to the form I
wore, and more than just in the way I faced the world. Those four who
trotted with me were not a company of servants following a mistress, but
something more—companions of varied natures allied with another
species who understood them and in whom they placed supreme trust.

   We came to one of the vans such as I had seen in the yard of the show,
the interior of which held cages. My companions went confidently forward
and jumped in, pawed open the unfastened doors of the cages and settled
themselves therein. But I stayed on the ground, growls rumbling in my
throat.

  Cage—I was in that moment far more man than beast, and I had had
enough of cages in Osokun's keep.

   Maelen laughed softly. "Well enough, Jorth—so I have named you. For
that means in the ancient tongue 'One-who-is-more-than-he-seems,' and
was once granted as a battle name to Mimber of Yithamen when he went
up against the Night Valks. Share my seat if you will, and I shall tell you of
your name-hero and how he wrought."

   There was nothing farther from my mind at that moment than the
desire to listen to the folklore of Yiktor while riding blindly into a future
which yet seemed so beyond belief that only by determined will could I
consider it. Yet I mounted the seat beside Maelen and there sat upon my
haunches, studying the world through eyes which still gave me strange
reports.
   But I began to see that there was more than the wish to beguile me out
of considering my plight which moved Maelen to tell her tale. For as she
continued to speak mind to mind, her powers to communicate and mine
to receive were heightened and strengthened. Perhaps the esper I had
used in my human body still worked in my favor. And, too, I found her
story of value. Through its fabric was interwoven such of Yiktor—not the
present, but an older, far more complex civilization which had once rooted
here and of which the Thassa were the last survivors. There was much she
said beyond my understanding, references to events and people unknown,
such hints only making me wishful to go through the doors they
represented and see what lay on the far side.

   The van followed no path, taking the most open way across a wilderness
country. We were on the eastern slopes of a range of hills forming a
barrier between Oskold's holdings and the plains of Yrjar. But to return to
the port in my present guise was the last thing I wished. Maelen continued
to reassure me that our eventual goal was the mysterious place of refuge in
the higher hills to which my body was being escorted. She explained that
the natives believed mental disorders to be a visitation of certain powers,
and those harboring them were sacred, to be placed as speedily as possible
in the custody of priests trained in such care. But we dared not follow too
closely to this place, she warned me several times over, lest they suspect
some trickery.

  "How did you—how did you make me thus?" I asked at last.

  She was silent for a space and when she replied, her thoughts were
guarded and remote.

   "I did that which I long ago took oath not to do. For this I shall answer
in another time and place to those who have the right to demand it of
me."

  "Why did you?"

   "I was debt-laid," she replied still more remotely. "It was through me
that you came into this misfortune, thus I must level the scales."

  "But you did nothing—that small matter of the beast seller—"

  "That, but also this. I knew that you had an enemy, perhaps more than
one, and I did not warn you. Rather did I say that as Thassa the concerns
of others were naught, save where they touched me. And for this I must
also answer."

  "Enemy?"

   "Yes." And she told me of how Osokun had come to her with the man
from the Combine ship, Gauk Slafid, and how they had suggested she
attract a Free Trader into a net they would set. Although she had not done
openly as they wished, she now believed that she had served their purpose
because of curiosity. Thus had she begun the chain of events which had
led to my kidnaping.

  "That is not true. It was chance only until—"

   "Until I made the moon-weave for you?" she interrupted. "Ah, that
seems to you now the greatest of interference. But perhaps you will
discover it the least as the future opens before us, then passes behind us.
What I have done is a thing private to the Thassa." Then she stopped and I
felt her thoughts withdraw and I could not touch her, for a barrier grew
between us. Her body sat there, but her eyes were really turned inward
and she had gone where I could not follow.

   But the kasi forged onward as if she had set some direction in their
minds and they kept on as a navigator would hold to his chart, at a speed
which might be slow but which held steady. Above us the sun was warm
and bright. Then I set myself to learning my new body, that I might
inhabit it competently as long as I must—though still I could not rid
myself of the belief that this was a long dream haunting the mind of one
safe in his own place and person.


                                   IX
   Two days we traveled so, camping at night in hidden thickets. I became
more and more a part of the body I wore, and I learned that there are
some compensations, lessons to be learned, by one who travels four-footed
and looks upon the world through animal eyes. Maelen fell into moods of
abstraction now and then, but between these she talked much, either
relating legends or else pointing out features of the country and speaking
of her own life as a wanderer there. But, I came to note, she did not often
mention her people in the here and now, only as they were in the past.
Also there were questions I asked that she adroitly avoided answering. I
came to make it something of a business to try to trap her and I think she
knew what I would do and as cunningly slipped past me.

   On the morning of the third day as we climbed into the van she was
frowning slightly.

   "From here," she said, "we come into the land of villages and men. And
to cloak our purpose we shall call upon the skills of the little people."

   "You mean—give shows?"

  "Yes. The road to the Valley is such that there are no side ways. Also we
may learn of those who have gone before us."

   It was almost a shock to think of my body having ridden this road
ahead, a sensation difficult to put into words. Maelen continued to
promise me that those escorting that mindless thing would be careful to
keep the spark of life within it, that, according to their superstitions, any
neglect would result in a fate such as they would avoid at all costs.

   "And I will be part of your entertainment?"

  She smiled slowly. "If you wish. A very great part if you agree. For to my
knowledge, and I assure you that is not small, no one has ever shown a
barsk before."

   "But you had hoped to."

   "Yes, I had hoped to."

   "What happened to—to—"

  "The spirit who were your present body? It was failing. Another day,
perhaps two, and I would have out of compassion sent it on the White
Road."

   "But in my body—now?"

   "It is a feeble tenant. It does not suffer, only lingers for a time to keep
the lamp lit until you return."

   I had come out boldly with what I had tried to discover earlier. She
looked at me.
  "To each his own secrets, Krip Vorlund. I told you—this burden is mine,
you will not be called to account for what has happened."

  "But you will?"

   "I will. Now let us consider what lies before us, not what may exist
behind a mountain range or two. By midday we shall arrive at Yim-Sin,
the road to it lies there—" We were coming down a bank to a road into
which the kasi turned, heading upward from the plains.

   "In Yim-Sin there is a temple of Umphra," Maelen continued. "There
we shall be quartered and, if possible, learn of Oskold's men—though they
may have taken the other road on the eastern side of the mountains. This
night we shall give a performance. So now let us study what a barsk may
do to astound the world."

   I was willing to fall in with her plans, for this was the case of depending
upon a navigator in the deeps. To the one with the proper knowledge one
leaves the ordering of the ship. Together we set up a performance,
suggesting the act of a well-trained animal. When we came to a place
where terraced fields, now mainly cleared by harvest, made steps on the
hillsides, Maelen paused and I withdrew from my usual seat beside her to
the traveling cage like the rest of the four-footed company.

   They drowsed, for two of their species were nocturnal in normal life,
and the other, Tantacka, was a lazy animal when well fed with no need to
forage. I found that my new body had habits, too, which were emerging.
And I curled up nose to tail and slept a little as the van trundled along.

   The scents of the open gave way to other odors, acrid, nose-tickling. I
heard voices as if people were gathering around the van, running beside
it—high shrill voices of children. Maelen must be bringing us into
Yim-Sin. It was, she had told me, a farming village, with the addition of
two inns and a temple for the accommodation of those bound for the
Valley. Oftentimes those who had relatives there made the journey to look
upon them. It was also true that the priests of Umphra sometimes
wrought miracles and cured certain of their charges, so not all who went
there were hopelessly lost.

   While the fields of this up-and-down country were not wide or rich, yet
they rooted a vine-grown crop which produced wine favored in the cities.
The villagers were prosperous enough, at least their overlords were. But
hereabouts there were absentee landlords and there would be only bailiffs
and overseers in the two castle holdings along the road we traveled.

   I tried to understand the cries, but the words were of a country dialect,
not the speech of the Yrjar merchants. Yrjar—suddenly I wondered what
had happened there after my kidnaping. Had Captain Foss taken his case
to the fair authorities? Some of those authorities or their subordinates
must have conspired in my disappearance for it to have happened at all.
Had they taken Lalfarns too, or killed him?

  Why had I been so important to risk so much on my capture? Surely
Osokun must have known I could not give him what he wanted. Nor might
Foss have traded the price demanded for me. Maelen had provided one
small clue to what might be a greater coil—the part Gauk Slafid played.
But the life-and-death struggle between Free Trader and Combine had
been all in the past. Why this move now? I had read all the tapes of the old
days and the struggle had been a bitter one, carried from planet to planet.
Now the Combines dealt mainly with the inner-system worlds and
sometimes dabbled in politics on those, to their hurt or gain. What could
possibly interest them on Yiktor?

   The van came to a halt and the smell of the town—or better described
for barsk nostrils—the stench of the town was thick. I longed to peer
through the curtains and see our surroundings. But I now wore a skin
around which far too many legends of peril and death had been woven.

   Borba and Vors uncurled from fur balls and came to peer out of their
cages. Simmle whined a greeting to which my barsk vocal cords responded
at a lower pitch. Their thoughts reached me as broken bits of expression.

  "March-march—"

  "Thump-thump—" That was Tantacka.

  "Up and down."

  So did they foresee their parts in the coming performance. They
appeared to look upon their stage appearances as amusement to be
anticipated and enjoyed.

  "Many smells," I tried my own return.
  Simmle barked. "Man smell—many men."

  "March-march," chorused the glassia, "good —good!"

  "Food," grunted Tantacka, "under rocks— food." She snorted and went
back to doze.

  "Run." Simmle was wistful. "Run out in the fields—good! Hunt—good!
Together—we hunt—"

  Instinct of my body answered her. "Hunt— good!" I agreed.

   Maelen opened the back flap of the van and climbed in. A man of the
plainspeople, wearing a black robe which was crosshatched on back and
breast with white and yellow, came with her. He was smiling and chatting
in the village dialect, but, through Maelen, the sense of his words filtered
to me.

   "We are indeed fortunate, Freesha, that you have chosen this season for
your return! The harvest has been good and the people plan a festival for
thanksgiving. The Elder Brother wishes to make a happy time for all. He
will open the west court for you and will pay all fees, so that your little
people may give joy to all with their cleverness."

    "The Elder Brother is indeed a maker of happiness and a force for good
in this so-blessed village." Her reply sounded formal. "Does he permit that
I loose my little people that they may stretch their legs in freedom?"

   " But certainly, Freesha. Aught you may need is at your call—the
third-rank brothers will serve you." He raised his hand. Fastened to thumb
and forefinger were two flat pieces of wood and these he clicked loudly
together. Two more heads crowded into view at the tail of the van. The
closely clipped hair, the Hand of Umphra branded into their foreheads,
marked them as priests, though they were only boys.

   They were smiling broadly, and apparently well pleased to serve as
Maelen's assistants. She opened Simmle's cage and the cream-coated
venzese came out, swinging her tail eagerly, while Maelen fitted her with a
show collar flashing small gems. Borba and Vors were so accoutered and
loosed, and then Tantacka, to whose collar was added a kind of frontlet of
richly embroidered red cloth, pointed forward between her ears. It would
seem that the animals were old friends as the young priests greeted each
by name, but with a gravity which suggested that Maelen's little people
were far more than mere animals. Then she put her hand to the latch of
my cage and the senior priest leaned forward as if to see me better.

  "You have a new friend-in-fur, Freesha?"

  "I have indeed. Come forth, Jorth."

   As I passed around the door she opened, the priest's eyes went wide and
his breath hissed between his teeth. "A barsk!"

   Maelen was busy putting about my neck the collar she had sewn at our
last camp, a strip of black with mirrorlike stars glittering in a scattered
trail along it.

  "A barsk," she agreed.

  "But—" His astonishment had become half protest.

  Maelen straightened, her hand still resting lightly on my head.

   "You know me, Elder Brother, and my little ones. This is a barsk in
truth, but Jorth is no longer a flesh eater and haunter of trails, but our
comrade-in-fur, as all others who travel in my shadow."

   He looked from her to me and then back again. "Truly you are one who
accomplishes strange things, Freesha. But this is yet the strangest of all—
that a barsk should come to your call, suffer you to lay hand upon his
head, that you should name him and make him of your company. But if
you so speak—that it will not give way to the evils of its kind—then shall
man believe you. For the gifts of the Thassa are like unto the laws of
Umphra, fixed and unchanging."

   Then he stood aside and I went with Maelen, leaping down from the tail
of the van. The young priests hesitated and drew a bit apart, their
amazement more open even than that of their superior.

  They allowed us to precede them. The other animals came to join us,
Simmle beside me, aiming a quick lick at my cheek as I fell into step with
her. We went out of the courtyard in which the van had halted into
another walled space through a double-leafed gate, only one half of which
was open for us. The inner area was paved with black stone veined with
yellow, and empty, save along the walls where trained vines and trees grew
from beds of earth bordered by fitted stone. At the far left was a fountain,
the water boiling out of a stonehead into a pool.

   One of the animals headed for the pool and lapped from its bounty. The
water was cool, tasting good. Tantacka dipped in not only her blunt
muzzle but also forepaws, flipping them up to send showers of drops flying
in all directions.

   I sat back on my haunches to look around. At the other end of the area
were three broad steps which led to a columned porch, and in that was
another door, intricately carved with a sprawling design I could not figure
out. That gave entrance to a building which I thought must be the center
portion of the temple. There were no windows to break the sweep of wall,
only more carved panels, in alternating white and yellow stone, to pattern
the black of the walls.

   Maelen directed the boy priests who carried some boxes from the van
to set them along the steps, and I noted that they continued to glance at
me with some awe. When they had done, Maelen dismissed them with
thanks and sat down on the lowest step. I lost no time in joining her.

  "Well?" There was only one thing I wanted to know—had she gained
any news of Oskold's men and that which they were transporting.

   "They have not passed this way," she answered me. "Nor was I sure they
would. If they needed to appraise their lord of what had happened they
would have gone eastward and thus come on the other road which leads to
the V alley."

  "You seem very sure they want to get to this Valley."

   Maelen put her hands to either side of my barsk head and raised it so
she could better look into my eyes.

   "Accept this, star rover: of the ways of the people of Yiktor I do know
much. They are set to patterns which they do not break, not when there is
naught to endanger them. Rest assured Oskold or his men will not alter
this pattern. One way or another they shall bring that which belongs to
you to the Valley."

  "Ah, Freesha, so it is true."
   The voice behind us rang in my ears as if Maelen spoke and I was
startled, for this was the first time I had "heard" so as to understand
except through her intermediacy. I jerked out of her hold and snarled
involuntarily as I looked up the steps.

   A man in priestly robes stood there. He was old, bent a little, leaning on
a support which was more staff of office than cane, for it was almost as tall
as his age-bared skull. His face was open, yet that of a man who had seen
so much of sorrow that he would be colored with its gray wash to the end
of his days. Only now he smiled, and in his smile was the sweetness of one
to whom compassion was the greatest of virtues.

   "You have brought a marvel indeed." He came down a step and in turn
Maelen sped to join him, setting her arm under his in support. That
aloofness which stood always between her and the plainsmen vanished
and there was respect in her tone as she made answer.

  "I bring a barsk, yes, Eldest Brother. Jorth, show your manners!"

   Thus the first of the tricks we had worked out together was shown to
the guardian of the temple as I bowed my head thrice and then barked my
deepest. And gently, with the same smile, the priest inclined his head to
me in answer.

   "Go with the love and care of Umphra, brother of the upper ways," he
said.

   The beliefs of the Free Traders are few, and we seldom express them,
even among ourselves. At ship's swearing, or when taking a permanent life
companion, or when accepting a foster child into one's household—yes, we
have oaths and powers we call upon as witness.I think that all living things
with intelligence recognize that which lies above and beyond. They must
or be ever lost and driven by their inner fears and doubts beyond the
endurance of their spirit. We give respect to gods of other worlds, for they
are but man-distorted images of that which stands ever behind such faulty
windows into the unknown. Now, in this man who had given his life to the
service of such a god, I saw one who walked closely to the Great Truth as
he saw it, and perhaps it was indeed a truth, if not one in which my people
believed. Thus, forgetting the skin which covered me, I bowed my head as
I would to those who have my respect.

  And when I raised it to look once more in his face, I saw that his smile
was gone; rather did he look at me very intently, as one might view some
new thing which caught the full attention.

    "What we know of the barsk," he said as if he spoke to himself, "is very
little, and most of that, ill, having been sifted through the screen of fear.
Perhaps there is much we should learn."

  "My little people are not quite like those of their wild kin." Maelen
spoke swiftly and I read both unease and warning in the half-thought she
shot at me, a warning that this was one who had some of the inner sight
and whose suspicions must not be aroused.

   Thus I barked and snapped at an insect buzzing overhead and then
went to join the others at the pool, hoping I had done my best to cover any
lapse I had unwittingly made.

   Maelen lingered with the priest and they spoke together in a murmur
which did not reach my ears. Also she had shut off mind-communication
with me and this I did not like. But I dared not try to listen in that manner
either.

   In the early evening we gave our show to all the villagers who could
crowd into the court, repeating it twice so that all could see, using the
porch of the temple for our stage, the boy priests helping Maelen arrange
the few properties we used. They did this with such practiced skill that I
guessed this was not the first time this had happened, though why Maelen
would have come this way before, I did not know.

   The acts were less elaborate than those which her other troop had
presented at the fair. Now Tantacka sat on her haunches and thumped a
drum to which Borba and Vors danced and marched. Simmle leaped over
a series of ascending bars, prancing on her hind legs, answered questions
from the audience with barks, played a small musical instrument by
pressing on large keys with her forepaws. And I sat up, bowed, and did the
other small tricks we had planned. I think my appearance alone would
have been enough, for the villagers were startled. I wondered more and
more at the fearsome reputation my host body held in this country.

  When we had done we went back to our cages, and for once I did not
demur at being so housed. I was as thoroughly weary as if I had labored
man-fashion throughout a day.
   But I had discovered that a barsk's sleep was not like that of a man. It
did not last the night through, but was a series of short naps, between
which I lay awake and alert, keenly aware through nose and ear of all that
went on outside the curtains of the van. During one such wakeful spell I
heard a stir in the fore part where Maelen had a couch she used in bad
weather or when it was not possible to sleep in the open.

   Light, so thin it seemed only a very pallid and weak reflection of her
moon globe, filtered through a curtain slit. The latch of my cage had not
been dropped. I was free to come and go, though I knew the danger of
doing so in the village. Now I nosed open the door and moved to set my
eyes to that slit.

   On her bed place Maelen sat cross-legged, her eyes closed. One might
have thought she slept, but her body moved from the waist slowly back
and forth, as if in time to music I could not hear. Nor could I reach her
mind, for when I strove to do so, I came against a tight barrier with the
force of one running headlong into a fort wall.

   Her lips were slightly parted and I caught a sound, the faintest whisper
of sound issuing from them. She was singing—or was she? I could not be
sure whether it was song, or some muttered invocation, even some plaint.
Her hands rested on her knees, but between forefinger and forefinger her
silver rod made a taut bridge, and it was from that the faint light beamed.

   Around me, as I watched, the air held a kind of electric charge. My
mane roughened and raised, there was a tingling along my hide, a
prickling in my nose. We men of the ships have our kind of power and
energies, but we never deny the fact that there are others elsewhere whom
we do not understand and cannot control. For the art of controlling such
may be a matter of birth and not of learning.

   This was power, but whether she called it to her or whether she sent it
forth, I did not know. And in that moment of my watching I was strongly
aware she was alien, far more alien than I had believed.

   She was silent after a space, and the tingling in the air began to ebb.
Then with a sigh her head fell forward, and she jerked as one awakening,
to place the now dim rod under her head as she stretched herself on the
couch. The light was gone and I was sure she slept.

  In the morning we left Yim-Sin, with the villagers cheering us out,
shouting their desire for our return. We took a road which climbed and
climbed. These were not hills we faced now, but rather mountains. The air
was chill and Maelen wore her cloak, but when I took my place beside her
on the seat I found my thick pelt needed no cover. The scents here were
exciting and I found awaking in me time and again the strong desire to
leap from my perch and run to the timbered slopes, in search of I know
not what.

   "We come now into barsk country," she told me with a laugh. "But I
would not advise you to take advantage of your wish to see it better, Jorth.
For, though some part of you is native here, you would speedily be at a
disadvantage."

   "Why do all look upon a barsk in your company as so strange and
rare?" I asked.

   "Because, though the barsk is known, in another way it is not. If that
sounds to be a riddle, perhaps it is. Men of the high slopes, of whom there
are few— though the Thassa haunt the mountain-caught clouds by
choice—have slain the barsk, which in turn hunts them with cunning and
patience. There are many legends about the barsk, Jorth, and it is credited
with almost as much power as men set into the hands of the Thassa. Many
lords have coveted a caged barsk, only to discover—if they are able to find
one—it either gains its freedom and then takes dire vengeance upon man
and herd, or else it wills itself to death. For it does not accept any
curtailment of its freedom. The spirit which wore your body was so willing
itself when the exchange was made."

   I shivered. "And if that will succeeds?" I demanded.

    Maelen hastened to reassure me. "It will not, there was a limit set upon
it in exchange. Your body will not die, Krip Vorlund—it will not be a
discarded husk when you find it."

   "Now," she shifted to another subject, "there is the watch post of
Yultravan. But most of the people must be in harvest on the slopes. We
shall not stop. But before the sentries see you, it would be well for you to
be caged."

   Reluctantly I climbed back and found my cage. Maelen exchanged
greetings with two armored men who came from a small shelter beside the
road. One of them lifted the curtain at the tail of the van to glance within,
so I kept well in the back of the cage to escape notice. Again I thought they
knew her as if she had made this journey before.

   That night we camped in the open once more, and Maelen brewed a pot
of liquid which gave forth such enticing odor that we all gathered around
the fire to sniff longingly. I admit that I gulped my portion with no more
manners than the real barsk might have displayed under the
circumstances. Anticipation had ridden me during the day's journeying,
for I knew that we were very close to our goal. But when I settled in my
cage that night—Maelen deeming it safer for some reason that we all rest
inside the van—I went immediately to sleep and this time did not waken.

   We roused in the first of the dawn light and broke our fast on some
crumbled cakes which were a mingling of grain and dried bits of meat.
Then once more the van started upward. This time the slope was steeper,
so that the kasi bent their shoulders to the yoke with visible effort. We
stopped now and then to let them breathe, Maelen putting small weights
she carried to block the backward roll of the wheels.

   But we did not pause for a regular nooning, again sharing out cakes
and lapping from bowls filled from Maelen's water bottle. It was
midafternoon when we reached the top of the grade. Now the road
descended through a cut between two heights. But what lay below was
veiled by drifting mists, which only now and then parted to give a blurred
hint of the depths.

   "The Valley," Maelen said, and her voice was flat, wrung dry of emotion.
"Stay with the van, we must keep strictly to the road. There are barriers
and safeguards here which cannot be seen."

   She gave the command to the kasi, and the van crawled on down into
that place of mists and mystery.


                              MAELEN
                                X
   "Look with unclouded eyes upon your own desires ," say the Old Ones
when they speak among the Thassa. But one may believe all his thoughts
clear, his motives open, and yet be moved by some hidden compulsion, as
my little ones obey my wand when there is need for me to raise its power.
Was my hidden desire awakened when I left Yrjar, virtuously telling myself
and Malec that I went only to obey the law of the scales? If it was, then it
was indeed deeply hidden.

    Or did it spring to life after I had broken oath and sent the off-worlder
from his own body into that of the barsk, that act sowing the seed? Or do
any of us move, save by some design of Molaster's far beyond our
understanding? To the Old Ones such an argument as that is blasphemy,
for they hold that each is answerable for his own acts—though they
sometimes take into consideration the motivation for those acts, when it
is a strong one.

   But the thought was already near to fruition in Yim-Sin, so that I was
knowing and yet denying it. When the priest Okyen had speech with me
privately, he had ill news and left me with despair and futile anger to chew
upon. So when we traveled on, coming ever nearer the Valley where many
hopes are buried, I was constantly under assault by temptation, even
though I could not believe that naught but ill might come of it.

  It was very difficult for me to occupy my mind with the plight of Krip
Vorlund during those hours, and I determined that once we found what he
sought, I would make the exchange speedily to lay this temptation. Nor
would I trust myself to think upon the one who abode there and whose
days were surely numbered.

   We came down from the lip of the Valley, through the chill mists which
cloud it, into that portion which is allowed to those from outside. I
answered the off-worlder's questions as shortly as I could, still wrestling
with myself. It was near sundown when we pulled into the outer court of
the great temple, that which is for visitors. The guard priest came to greet
us. I knew his face, but I could not set name to it—there is a kind of
merciful forgetting allowed one at times—and this was the man who had
greeted me here on a different occasion I tried not to recall. I asked to
speak with Orkamor, only to be told he was busy and could not receive me.
We took the van into the second courtyard and I released the kasi and fed
and watered my little people. But Krip Vorlund asked me questions by
mind-touch and some I could not answer.

  We had lighted the moon globes by the van when a third-rank priest
came to say Orkamor would see me. Krip Vorlund wished to go with me.
He was impatient with all save finding and being united with his body.
But I had to tell him that I must prepare Orkamor for what would happen
and explain carefully, lest our story be thought wild raving. This he could
accept.

    Did it move stronger in me then, the belief that I need only act and
much of the burden I had carried so long would be resolved? If it did, I
still had the courage to resist.

   Okramor is not a young man and the burdens on him are a weighty
load which grow heavier with the years, not lighter. Nor is he like the
Thassa with their stronger, longer-lived bodies. So that each time I meet
him, he seems to me even more shrunken, wasted, shadowy. Yet in him
burns so strong a flame of will, and the need to answer need, that the
spirit waxes while the fleshy envelope which holds it shrivels. After the
first moments one sees only the spirit and not the man form that wears it.

    "Welcome, sister." His voice was tired that night, thin and fluting as if
it, too, had been used too much and too long.

    I bowed my head above my wand. There are few the Thassa give full
reverence to, besides their own Old Ones. But Orkamor deserves greatly of
all Yiktor.

  "Eldest Brother, peace and good." I made the Three Signs with my
wand.

   "Peace and good," he returned, and this time his voice was stronger,
deeper, as if he battled away weariness with his will. "But we need no
sooth-words between us, sister. I cannot tell you all is well."

   "I know. I came through Yim-Sin."

   "Was it well to come, sister?There is naught you can do, and sometimes
surveying a wreck sorrows the heart past ever lifting of the cloud. It is
better to remember a loved one walking in pride, than without pride or
even manhood left."

   My hands tightened on my wand, and I knew he saw me do that, but
with Orkamor I did not care; he has seen worse self-betrayal in his time.

  "I have come on another matter." Resolutely I thrust aside what he
confirmed, and continued. "This—"
   Quickly I turned to the matter of the off-worlder, telling the story to
Orkamor simply. I could do this because he was who and what he was and
would not read aught into my actions to make him think me more or less
than himself. The priests of Umphra and the Thassa are not so un-kin as
we are with others who dwell in the plains. When I was done he stared at
me, but there was no great astonishment in his face.

  "The way of the Thassa is not the way of mankind," he said.

   "Tell me something I do not already know!" All that I had borne since
Yim-Sin flared out in my sharp speech. And then, when I would have
asked pardon, he waved it aside.

  "Yes, you must have thought of the cost before you did this, sister.
Those of your calling do not move lightly. This off-worlder was worth that
much to you?"

  "There was a debt."

   "Which, if he knew all the consequences, he would not have demanded
any payment from you. Now I must also say—there has been no charge
brought hither by the men of Oskold."

  I was not greatly disturbed. "If they returned to seek Oskold's leave—
We came by the fore road, and though the van moves slowly that path is
shorter."

  "What if he is not brought, sister?"

  I looked to the wand I twirled in my fingers. "They cannot—"

   "You hope that they will not," he corrected me, and now there was
sharpness in his voice. By all you have told me, Osokun broke fair law in
taking this man. He involved his father when he imprisoned the captive in
a border fort. It was a man wearing Oskold's livery who came hunting him
to the death in your camp. It may be that they think to kill him, hide his
body, and leave it to their enemies to prove their crime. Would you not
think thus, were you Oskold at this hour?"

  "Being Oskold, with a plainsman's mind, perhaps I would. But not one
who was—"
   "Who was under Umphra's cloak?" Orkamor did not need to read my
mind to follow my thoughts. "Having broken one law, it is always easier to
break another."

  "They broke man's law at the fair, but would they dare to break
Umphra's law?"

  "You are thinking as a Thassa." He sounded more gentle now, as one
who must reason with an alien. "You have few Standing Words, and your
mortal precepts are so secure that they are seldom threatened. But, sister,
what of your own actions under the Moon of Three Rings?"

   "I have broken law, yes, and I will answer for it. Perhaps the reason for
the deed will outweigh the deed. You know the judgment of my people."

   "Yet you broke it with open eyes, though not in fear for yourself. Fear is
the great lash the powers of darkness use to torment all men. If fear be
great enough, then no law of man or god can stand against it. I have heard
of Oskold. He is a strong man, though hard. He has but one heir, Osokun,
and this has been that youth's bane. For his father favors him too greatly.
Do you think that Oskold will tamely accept the outlawry of his son?"

   "But how could he hope to conceal—"

   "What men may say they know, and what they are able to prove are two
different matters. And the full proof of Osokun's ill doing is the body of the
off-worlder."

   "No!" I should have seen this, of course. Why had I been so blind to
logic.

  "My sister, what did you really want?" Again Orkamor reached into my
mind and sought what I did not want to see light.

  "I swear—by the breath of Molaster, I swear—I did not—" I broke then,
heard myself babbling, and strove to win control once more.

   Orkamor looked at me steadily and made the truth, or what was now
the truth, plain to both of us.

  "And did you think, sister, that such could be? I tell you, it is not the
body that makes a man, but what dwells within it. You cannot fill an
empty frame and expect the past to come alive and all be as it once was.
The Thassa can do much, but they cannot so give life to the dead."

   "I did not mean it so!" I denied that once-hidden thought, now open in
my mind. "I saved the off-worlder's life—they would have cut him down
without mercy."

  "And which would he have chosen, had all been made plain to him?"

  "Life. It is a part of most to cling to life at that final Question."

  "And now you will offer him life again, under new terms?"

    I could, it would be so easy. Krip Vorlund had been in shock when he
realized he was Jorth. Offered a human body again, would he hesitate—if
it were proven his own body was beyond recall? Beyond recall—I stiffened
against temptation.

   "I will make no offers until I am sure that all has gone so awry." I
promised.

  "But you will tell him this now?"

   "Only that his body has not yet reached the Valley. For that may be the
truth, may it not?"

   "We can always lean upon the mercy of Umphra. I shall send a
messenger down the western road. If they are on the way, we shall be
prepared. If not, there may be some news—"

  "Thank you, Eldest Brother. Is it permitted that I—I—?"

  "Do you really wish this, sister?" Kindness, great compassion, once
more warmed his voice.

   For the moment I could not decide. Was Orkamor right—that I should
not see the one in the inner chamber, harrow my heart by looking upon—I
shrank from that journey which was only a few steps, yet for me marked a
distance like that between the stars which Krip Vorlund knew. Krip
Vorlund—if I saw, then could I hold to my resolve, put aside desire?

  "Not now," I whispered.
  Orkamor held up his hand in blessing. "You are right, sister. And may
Umphra arm you with his strength. I shall dispatch the messenger, do you
have dreamless sleep."

   Dreamless sleep! A kind wish, but not for me this night, I thought as I
returned to the van. The off-worlder would want news. A part of the truth
was all I had to offer him. Truth—perhaps the rest was not truth but
surmise, perhaps Orkamor's messenger would meet the party we sought
and all would come right after all—for Krip Vorlund. There are many
rights in any world, and some may stand for others' wrongs. I must push
away such thoughts.

   I was right about the off-worlder and his questions . He was distraught
when I said that the party from Oskold had not yet arrived, only small part
reassured by the idea of the messenger sent down the western road. I
dared not use mind-talk too much, lest I reveal in some way my new
knowledge of myself. So I pleaded great weariness and went to my couch,
lying there for half the night, hearing him shift and turn in his cage.

    Morning came with the dawn call of the priest from the peak of the
temple tower. I listened to those singing notes which, though not of the
power of Thassa, yet had in them power of their own kind. For in this
place where sorrow and despair could so well lay a black blanket over all,
yet Umphra's servant sang of hope and peace, and compassion. And by so
little was my own day lightened.

   I brought out the little people and let them free in the courtyard, while
two of the third-rank priests, who were hardly more than children, came
gladly to bring us food and water. Krip Vorlund sat close to me, and ever
as I looked up I found his eyes watching my every move, as if by such close
surveillance he could trap me.

   Why had I thought that? Such ideas out of nowhere sometimes carry
the germ of truth.

   "Krip Vorlund—" To use the name Jorth now, I believed, would add to
his suspicion. He must continue to think of himself as a man only
temporarily dwelling in a barsk body. "Today perhaps—"

  "Today!" he assented eagerly. "You have been here before?"

  "Twice." What was it that loosened my tongue then, made me tell him
the truth? "There is one abiding here who is claim-kin to me."

   "Thassa!" He seemed surprised, and I read that he looked upon my race
with some of the awe which the plainsmen feel toward the Thassa.

    "The Thassa," I said bitterly, "share much of the troubles of all men. We
bleed if one raises sword or knife against our flesh, we die, we suffer many
ills. Do you think we are impervious to that which ails others?"

  "Perhaps in a way I did," he admitted. "Though I should have known it
was not so. But what I have seen of the Thassa led me to think they were
not akin to the rest of Yiktor in much."

   "There are perils which are ours alone, perhaps, just as you have those
which are peculiar to your people also. What are the dangers faced by
space rovers?"

  "More than I have now time to tell," he returned. "But your kin—the
one who shelters here—is there nothing which can be done—"

   "No!" I cut him short. To explain the why and wherefore of he who
dwelt in the hall of Umphra, I could not. It hovered too close to his own
present plight.

   Among us those who would become Singers must undergo certain tests
which reveal whether or not they have the proper gifts. And Maquad had
been struck down during that time, not through any fault of his own, but
because of one of those fell chances which are random shot by fate. We
had surrendered what still lived into the hands of Umphra, not because we
feared what he had become, as most of the plainsmen fear the deranged,
but because we knew that here what life was left to his husk would be
gently tended. For the Thassa no longer have fixed homes.

   Once we had our halls, our cities, our rooted places. Then we chose
another road and it was no longer necessary for any of us to claim a
certain place for kin-clan being. There are old sites in hidden places,
where we gather when there is need for council or on one of the Days of
Remembering. We wander as we will, living in our vans. And thus to care
for such as Maquad now was something we could not easily do. He was
not the first we surrendered unto Umphra, though those had luckily been
few.
  "When will we know about—"

  I roused out of my thoughts. "As soon as the messenger returns. Now,
come, I would have you meet Orkamor."

  "Does he know?"

  "I have told him as was necessary."

  But the man in the barsk body did not rise to follow as I stood, and to
my surprise I read in him an emotion which I could not
understand—shame. So strange was this to any Thassa that my
amazement grew.

  "Why do you feel thus?"

  "I am a man, not a barsk. You have seen me as a man, this priest has
not."

   I could not yet understand. It was one of those times when two who
seem to have put aside the alien separation of their backgrounds are
pulled sharply apart by their pasts.

  "To some men on Yiktor this would matter, to Orkamor it does not."

  "Why?"

   "Do you believe that you are the only one on this world ever to put on
hide, run on four feet, test the air with a long nose?"

  "You—this has been done before?"

   "I—yes—also others. Listen, Krip Vorlund, ere I became a Singer and
one able to company with my little people, I also ran the hills for a time in
a different body. This is part of our learning. Orkamor knows this, so do
others whom we visit now and then. At times we exchange parts of our
learning. Now—I have told you something which you could use against the
Thassa, tossing it as one might toss a firebrand into a standing yas crop to
our ruin."

   "And you—you—have been an animal!" There was first shock in his
thoughts, and then, because he was a man of intelligence and of a mind
more open than the planet-bound, he added, "But this is indeed a way to
learn!" And I sensed that he lost then some of his uneasiness, so I thought
I should have said the like to him earlier. Yet I also realized that I said it
now only because there might be need for some hope should Orkamor's
fears be true. Only—he must not look upon Maquad, nor know that story
for the present.

   We went into the inner hall of the temple and through that to the small
garden where Orkamor rested his frail body, if not his compassionate
mind. He sat there in a chair fashioned of hrata wood, deep-set in the
earth so that the wood lived again and put forth small twiglets and
branches, making a snug shield against the wind for one sitting there.

   It was a place of deep peace, that garden, as was needful for the use to
which it was put. For here not only came Orkamor to be renewed in spirit,
but also he brought those for whom the world had ended when someone
they loved had arrived to abide with Umphra thereafter. There are places
where the power we all recognize under different names manifests itself in
a way to inspire awe and even terror. Very few are there where it lays a
comforting hand upon the afflicted. This was such a place and all who
entered there were the better for it.

  Orkamor turned his head and looked at us. He smiled rather than
spoke his welcome. We went forward to stand beside him.

   "The day is new, for us to write upon as we will," he repeated a sentence
from the creed of Umphra. "So fair a tablet should draw the best from us."
Then he spoke to Krip Vorlund. "Brother, Yiktor gives you much to write
upon these days."

   "That is so," the off-worlder replied in thought.

  Orkamor had the inner language. He could not have been who and
what he was without it. Few of his race, though, have developed that gift.

   "It is given to any man to learn all he can during his lifetime, no limit
set upon that learning. Only to refuse knowledge is our choice, and he who
does so cuts himself off from much. I have never spoken with an
off-worlder before—"

  "We are as other men," Krip Vorlund replied. "We are wise and stupid,
good and evil, living by this code or disregarding that one. We bleed from
wounds, laugh at jests, cry at deep hurts—do not all men whether they
walk this world or that?"

   "True. And this would be more true for those who, as yourself, see more
than one world so they may make comparisons. Will you humor an old
man, planet-bound, and tell him something of what lies beyond our skies
and marches with the stars—"

  Orkamor did not look at me, but I understood his dismissal. Why he
would have the off-worlder to himself, I did not know, and it disturbed me
somewhat. But that I put aside, since I could think no harm in Orkamor
and perhaps it was only as he said, that curiosity moved him to do so. He
was so much apart by reason of his calling that one forgets at times to
remember he was also a man and had a man's interests.

  I nerved myself then to do what I could not face the night before—seek
out Maquad. Of that there is no need to speak. To drag the sorrows of the
past out of memory and relive them is a weak and useless thing. But I
marveled anew at what they did in this place for those without hope.

   At nooning I came again into the courtyard where I had left the van.
My little ones napped in the shade of a tree, but roused and came to me.
Krip Vorlund was not with them. And I wondered, for I did not believe
that Orkamor could talk away all morning, the press of his duties was too
heavy.

   Then I called to one of the priests who brought us food and water. But
he had seen nothing of the barsk and told me Orkamor was in the
meditation chamber where he might not be disturbed.

   Now I was worried. While the priests of Umphra will raise no hand
against any living creature, there were others who might not think in their
reaction to the sudden appearance of an animal. I was returning to the
van when a secondary priest came in, his face bearing a frown.

  "Freesha, there is a message from the western road, sent by a winged
one. Those whom you seek never passed the gate town."

   I gave my thanks mechanically, only a small part of my mind reacting
to his words. The disappearance of Krip Vorlund was my major concern.

   "The barsk—" I began, though why this priest, who had no contact with
the supply duties of the temple, would know, I did not guess.
   "It was here, when I came seeking you before." He looked around as if
he might be able to conjure that red-furred body out of the ground by
eye-search alone. "I remember I remarked to Brother Ofkad, for never
have I known a barsk to walk with man before."

  "How long ago was that, brother?"

  "Two bell strokes before nooning. The gong spoke even as I left to seek
you elsewhere."

  So long a time! I went to Simmle, spoke to her by mind. She barked
quickly, in some excitement, and ran to the gate.

  "It would seem, brother, that my barsk has gone elsewhere. I must seek
him."

   I had warned Krip Vorlund before we entered the Valley of the traps it
might contain for those who did not know its ways, or stay within the
open ones. Why had he left the temple, I could not guess. Surely nothing
that had passed between him and Orkamor could have led to this utter
folly. Simmle could follow any trail he had left with ease, but a barsk
might cover much ground in the time lapse the priest had
mentioned—always providing he had not fallen into any of the trapped
ways.

   Simmle and I had reached the outer gate of the temple when I heard a
hail from behind and turned impatiently to see the young priest who had
charge of the guesting court.

  "Freesha, they say you seek the barsk."

  "Yes."

  "It cannot be far gone, for it was drinking from the bowl when the
messenger came. It is odd—" He hesitated.

  "Yes?" I was impatient to be gone.

  "It was—it was almost as if the barsk were listening to what we said. It
barked when I noticed it. And when I turned again it was gone."

  Could the off-worlder have understood them? The temple priests
among themselves spoke the high tongue—and with it mind-touch—until
often their speech was sometimes but a word or two, the rest all thought.

  "What did you say that the barsk appeared to listen to?"

   He did not quite meet my eyes then. "He—Older Brother—asked where
you were. I answered that you were in the inner apartments with the
protected one. We—we spoke a little of that one. And then the Older
Brother said that you awaited those who were bringing a stricken one, but
they were not coming. After that he went hence and when I looked—the
barsk was gone."

  Had—could Krip Vorlund have been rash enough to go looking for his
body? But why had he so rushed forth and not come to me?

  I waved Simmle on—

   "Find him, girl." I gave her the order which sent her racing ahead, and I
followed, bewildered, shaken wondering what had changed in that short
time when I had sought my own sorrow and forgotten about the purpose
which had brought me here.


                       KRIP VORLUND
                             XI
   I lay on the earth and around me the smell of it, of the things that grew,
roots set deep in its substance, and of the life that walked it, burrowed
through it, was thick, teasing, testing. How far was I now from the Valley,
how long the road I skulked along, I did not know as I lay and licked sore
paws. I was now more Jorth than Krip Vorlund.

   Man? Was there any longer a man who had once been Krip Vorlund?
The priests of Umphra reported no party out of Oskold's territory with the
husk of a man. Why, then, had I been brought to the Valley? What
purpose had I been meant to serve for Maelen's desire, not mine? When I
heard the priests talk among themselves suspicion had leaped into life,
and I thought with new understanding of my interview with Orkamor in
the garden of peace.

  We talked of worlds beyond, but always he wanted to know of the men
who sought out such worlds, of what made them become star rovers. And
it seemed to me that he had been trying to learn what manner of man
would become a barsk to save his life—as if, by such a chance, I had taken
a step from which there might be no return, and if I would accept such a
fate for all time.

    When Maelen spoke of the exchange, there had been a kind of logic to
it. She knew the dangers, ah, how well she knew them. For the priests I
had overheard not only spoke of my missing body, but also discussed
Maelen and what brought her to the Valley, not once but again and again.
There had been another who had run in a beast's body, at her bidding
perhaps. And there had been no return exchange. So the man's body husk
now dwelt in the Valley, and of the beast they did not speak. Or was that
unfortunate one caged among her little people?

  That perfectly trained company—were they all, or most, once men and
women, not animals? Was that how the Thassa recruited their beast
shows? Perhaps the name they had given to their performers—"little
people"—was entirely apt.

   She had long wanted to add a barsk to the company, she admitted that.
And I had walked into her trap with the naivete of a trusting child. Or had
she brought to bear on me some of her power when my mind had been
bewildered? What mattered now was not what had happened and could
not be changed, but what might still be done. My body—my man's
body—where was it? If it still lived at all— And to find out I must search
Oskold's land. What I would do if I found it, I had no idea. But for the
present the burning need to find it possessed me utterly, past logical
reasoning. Perhaps I was no longer quite sane—

   Hunger and thirst were dim urges stirring now. I scented man, the
odors of a farm holding. And, wincing as I rose on my sore pads, I slipped
through the underbrush. How much of the beast served me, I did not
know. Man's knowledge might be an awkward leash upon my hunting
skill. In dim twilight, as I stole from shadow to shadow along a wall of
loosely piled stone, I was drawn by the messages my nostrils caught and
classified.

  Meat—saliva dripped from my tongue, my belly growled its
emptiness—the scent of meat.

  I crouched between two bushes, peering underneath them to an open
farmyard. A kas stood stamping heavy hoofs. There were also four of those
domesticated animals—forsphi—whose long-fleeced coats provided the
raw material for the weaving of a highly weather-resistant cloth. They
appeared uneasy, turning their long necks, bending their heads at queer
angles, to survey the wall near which I crouched. And one of them voiced
deep, coughing grunts of alarm. Just as I scented them, so must they also
have picked up my presence.

   But what I sought was not one of those, half again as large as I. A fowl
picked an erratic path much closer to my hiding place. It was a
long-legged creature with a sharply pointed bill which it repeatedly
stabbed into the ground. I tensed as it neared. Unlike the animals, it
appeared not to have any sense of danger. I burst from my bush and
charged it. The bird whirled with a speed which I had not thought
possible, and I felt a sharp and piercing pain above one of my eyes. Only a
quick flinch saved me from another attack and I fled, blood blinding me
on the left, aware that only happy chance had saved my sight.

   The clamor of the animals rose as I ran back along the wall and into
such cover as I could find. I ran a long distance before my sore paws and
laboring lungs forced me to a halt.

  Barsks were supposedly wily hunters. But I was not a barsk, I was Krip
Vorlund.

   I had one advantage not shared by my man body, the night did not
blind me. The dark might be my day, which it probably was for a barsk.
And before morning I fed, ravenously, certainly not daintily, on a reptilian
creature I pawed out from between two stones in a stream bed. Then I
found a hollow between a fallen tree and a rock and slept, waking now and
then to lick my paws and hope that they were not too raw to carry me
onward.

   It was better, I decided, to switch traveling by day when I might be
sighted to night, which was the natural time for barsk prowling. So I
dozed throughout the light hours and limped on when the moon was high.

   The Three Rings about that lunar disk were very bright tonight. My
barsk head went up and, before I could subdue the impulse, I bayed—my
deep cry echoing oddly until it sounded, even to me, more than just that of
a night runner saluting the sky rider. There was something in that
splendid display which drew and held the eyes, and I could understand
why those of Yiktor attributed psychic powers to the rare phenomenon.

   Three-Ringed moon meant power—but there was only one power I
wanted and that was to regain my own body. I returned to the stream and
hunted again, with slightly better results, for this time I flushed a warm
blooded animal I surprised drinking at a pool. As Jorth I feasted,
thrusting man-memory away during that meal. Then I drank my fill and
started across country in search of a road which might be my guide.

  I came upon an east-west path running through the woods. For a wide
space on either side of the thoroughfare underbrush and saplings had
been cut back, leaving open space. I kept just within this cover going west.

   Oskold's land did not appear to be thickly settled, at least not in this
section. Before dawn I passed, giving it wide berth, another fort such as
the one I had been imprisoned in. But this one had a settlement by it,
though the houses, or rather huts, were very roughly built as though
meant to be only temporary shelters.

   It was an encampment, I thought, barracks for more men than the fort
could house. Sentries walked beats on the eastern side, and there were
several lines of riding kasi pegged out, not grazing free. I believed Oskold's
forces were alerted, as if to repel some invasion. I passed too close to a kas,
which snorted and then gave voice to a roar, making its comrades highly
vocal in turn. Men shouted and lanterns flashed along the hut lines. I
slipped away hurriedly.

   If the outer limits of the domain were empty land, prairie uncut by the
plow, the same was not true of the country into which the road now led
me. And it had been wise to change from day travel to night. After leaving
the camp, I skirted before dawn a village of some size, slinking through the
fields which sustained it. Harvest had bared most of the land. But as I
skulked by a farmhouse, I was startled by a sharp yapping and read in that
the warning of a long-domesticated hound-hunter. Other animals took up
the alarm until the village rang with their cries, and I saw once more
lights on, heard a shout or two aimed at the wildly baying yard dwellers.

   The reaction of the people of Yim-Sin and the words of Maelen had
assured me that a barsk was a rare and dreaded creature. Suppose I was
sighted, or some farmer turned loose hounds to hunt the strange
disturber? To go on into thickly settled territory could be suicidal folly. I
paced up and down within the thicket I had chosen for the day's layup.
And I heard myself whining a little at my thoughts. But
somewhere—somewhere in Oskold's land was the answer to the fate of my
man body, and that I must know!

    After my experience, I dared not hunt at another farmyard. But wild
life was scarce and shy hereabouts, and my hunger drove me at last to a
walled field. Tonight there was no bright display of three rings in the
heavens, rather clouds massed there. And that veiling gave me extra
courage to attempt once more an attack on domesticated prey.

   The creatures in the field were fodo; I had already sampled what they
had to offer in the dried meat Maelen carried. They were small enough,
about the size of Tantacka. Perhaps long ago some common ancestor had
been theirs, though generations of domestication and supervised breeding
had made the fodo much heavier of body and shorter of leg, doubtless
thicker of wits also. The only trouble was that they chose to huddle
together for sleeping, and a charge at the whole herd might well spoil my
hunt.

   I prowled around the wall, testing the air carefully for the scent I had
come to identify with the yappers of the farmyards. The wind swept
toward me, carrying only the rich odor of the sleepers. Had I a partner I
thought it would be easy. One of us downwind could have stampeded the
fodo to the waiting jaws of the other.

    In the end I decided that my fleetness was my best weapon and I ran
downwind. I had very little time to wait. The snorting heap of sleepers
pulled apart, rose grunting. I charged and seized upon a squealer,
dragging it with me in spite of its struggles. Getting over the wall so
burdened was difficult, but hunger is a mighty drive and finally I managed
it, as well as the return journey to a mass of rocks and brush along the
river which provided me with a fort, though I had no mind to be besieged
there.

    I ate enough to satisfy my hunger. Then I prudently waded
downstream, thus hoping to destroy any trail which an outraged farmer
might bring his hounds to sniff out. A bridge spanned the river, and under
its arch I came ashore and licked water from my fur.

  While still so busied I heard the pound of hoofs echoing hollowly.
Crouching in the shadows I lay low. There were two sets of hoof
beats—each heading from opposite directions, and the speed with which
they came spoke of dire necessity. I thought that the riders would pass
close to where I lay, and I listened for any greeting which might explain
their haste.

   The beat lessened; I believed that both riders must be reining in their
mounts. I dared to hold my head higher, creep to the end of the bridge,
hoping I might hear something of importance. I did not know any dialect
save that of Yrjar—though the thoughts of the priests of Umphra had been
as clear as words spoken in Basic. But I could hope for neither advantage
now.

   The riders had stopped. I could hear the heavy blowing of the kasi, and
now the sound of men's voices. The words—no—those were only a
meaningless series of sounds such as any human speech might be for a
true barsk. Though—fiercely I stretched my esper to tap thought.

  "… sends for aid…"

  Surprise, some anger. "…dares…after this… dares!"

  Desperation, a burst of it so intense as to be almost a mind-blow. "…
must… is hunted… the off-worlders… they have demanded full outlawry."

   "No use. Our lord has returned their man… he has offered to pay blood
guilt… that is all he can do."

   It would seem that the emotions of the two on the bridge were so high
that their thoughts broke through to me more and more clearly, as a
hearing of their words.

  "… refuge… must have refuge…"

   "Madness!" The second messenger was emphatic . "Our lord is already
gainsaid in council, those of Yimik and Yomoke turn on him. We have all
the border to hold. If he brings in outlaws, then who will ride to defend
him?"

  "Let him decide—"

   "Let him! You shall hear the same words. If the off-worlders have the
power of Yu behind them, then outlawry can spread. They have the right
to refuse bloodguilt price and ask for the other. What they have back now
is no man—or do you name him so? You have seen him—"

   There was no answer to that in words, only anger, fear. Then the cry of
a man to urge his mount to the utmost. And one kas, that going west, beat
out in a wild galloping. But the other rode, at not so harsh a pace, for the
western border.

   I dropped my head to my paws, hearing only the gurgle of the river. A
man may lie in words, but his thoughts tell the truth. Now I had learned,
so by chance, what I had come to seek—that my body was no longer in
Oskold's land, but returned to my shipmates. For that the messengers had
been concerned with my case I did not in the least doubt.

   Yrjar was now my goal. The port—they would take my body to the Lydis
where our medico would do what he could for that lifeless hulk. Suppose I
did, by some miracle, reach the port and the ship, and even my
body—what could I do? But Free Traders are open of mind. Maelen was
not the only Thassa at the fair—there was the man Malec. Could I reach
him, use him for explanation? Perhaps he might even make the exchange.
So many doubts and fears between me and success, most of them
formidable ones. But hope was all I had to cling to, lest I be swept away
and drowned—man forever swallowed in beast.

   Back then to the east, through the hills, down to the plains of Yrjar,
where a barsk would be as conspicuous as a scarlet cloak flapping in the
breeze. Yet that I must do.

   I drank of the water curling before me, my throat suddenly as dry as if I
had not drunk for a day or more. And there was a trembling in my legs, a
shiver along my spine. Still there was no retreat. Then I waded into the
water and finally swam along the center current, heading yet farther to the
sound before I came ashore on the eastern bank.

   There was no longer need to follow the road and so meet any perils
traveling thereon. The hills, dark and rolling across the sky, were
guideposts enough. Beyond them lay the plains which cradled Yrjar, and
the port. I sped through open fields, or trotted through forested places. I
discovered that, though barsks were said to haunt the heights, yet their
oddly small bodies and almost grotesquely long legs were meant for swift
travel on the level. By sunrise I was well into the hills.

  I passed at dawn that self-same fort where all my misfortunes had
begun. Here, too, was extra garrison in evidence, men gathered in camp
outside the walls. I made a wide circling to avoid their kasi lines.

   As I ran I considered what I had learned from the messengers. He who
had ridden westward, doubtless to Oskold's chief hold, had been bearing a
cry for help—from Osokun and his men? It was said Oskold cherished his
heir, but by the reaction of the second messenger some end had recently
come to that. Oskold had offered blood-guilt price for my body—in other
words he had attempted to settle by the one legal means on Yiktor the
dispute between his son and the Free Traders, by offering Captain Foss the
price of a crew member. Blood-guilt price could be offered for one killed
inadvertently and without malice in time of peace. It was seldom
accepted, almost never when the victim possessed close kin of the
arms-bearing age, for blood feud was considered the more honorable
solution. But if the victim left only females or boys too young to war within
the required bonds of kinship, then the price could be accepted and the
transaction recorded in the Temple at Yrjar.

   Perhaps, because I was an off-worlder, as were the crew of the Lydis
—who stood for my kin—the offer had been made with some hope of
acceptance. But I wondered at Oskold's returning my body at all.

  It would have been more logical for him to dispose quietly of that
damaging piece of evidence against his son and then defy anyone to prove
what had happened. Did their fear of the insane hold them so in thrall?

   At any rate it was apparent that Captain Foss had demanded full
punishment and Osokun had been outlawed. The disgrace had lapped
over, so that old enemies of Oskold saw an opportunity to drag down
father as well as son. And Oskold's land was close to a state of siege. I
wondered whether Oskold would turn rebel against all law and custom by
sending assistance to his son. If so, would Oskold's sword-sworn continue
to support him? Loyalty between lord and man was a firm bond,
withstanding death and torture, as many a ballad told in detail. But it
worked two ways, a lord had to be as loyal to those who had given him
leige-oaths. And such sheltering of his son for his own purpose might, I
believed, count as open break-oath, endangering his men past reason.

   Yrjar—I tried to picture the city in my mind. I found it hard to count
the days since I had been kidnaped from the fair, and I could not even be
sure that the fair was still in progress. What if—I put on a new burst of
speed—what if the Lydis had lifted off-world? That thought was so
appalling I could only push it from my mind lest I yield to the terror it
evoked in me.

   If the Lydis still stood on the port apron, would Malec still also be at
the fair? If not—how— I licked my still tender paws and growled softly.
Then I realized that the barsk might be gaining on the man. Was that
what had really happened to him whom the priests of Umphra sheltered
for Maelen? Had he gone in beast body so long that the animal had
conquered, and had fled to the high hills with no longer any ties with
man? I could have thrown back my head and howled, as I had bayed the
moon with no human reason. But I stiffled that in my throat.

   Griss Sharvan—he had been with me at the show—he had seen the
return of the barsk, he had heard my story of what happened. And he
might be open-minded if a barsk came to him now—be able to provide
some contact. We all had esper powers, some more than others. Lidj—Lidj
was the best aboard the Lydis—could I only get close enough. No, Krip
Vorlund was far from beaten. In these hills I might move by day as well as
by night—

   I dug some small burrowing creatures out of the mold and ate, though
they were only enough to stay the first edge of my hunger. And I climbed
steadily up and up through the frosty air which bit at my laboring lungs.
Patches of snow hurt my tender feet. I licked the snow and so gave my
thirsty body a measure of moisture, though I thought often of the river
where I had drunk so deeply and sweetly.

   By midnight I found a pass which was no more than a knife edge of
crevice, and was on the down slope to the plains. But fatigue drove me into
hiding and the sleep I must have.

   The sun was warm on my maned back when I awoke and looked about
me through eyes slitted against the light, testing the breeze. Man scent,
rank and strong used my nose.

   There was the faint scrape of one hard surface against another, such as
a boot sole might make slipping on rock. Whoever passed to my right and
below was taking infinite precautions to go silently.

  I wriggled forward, my head flattened against my forefeet as I tried to
peer below. A man—no, men, for I saw another beyond the one so close to
me— were creeping uphill. They had pulled over their scale shirts and
surcoats roughly woven hooded cloaks, which were oddly patched with
color. I believed that any eyes less keen than those of an animal would
have found it near to impossible to sight them from a distance unless they
were moving. A scouting party of Oskold's enemies?

   It was of no consequence unless they found me, and now I began a
retreat of my own, edging back into the brush before getting to my feet
and moving undercover left and down from their advance. Twice I froze,
keeping stone-still while more of the disguised party inched past. What
their goal might be I could not guess, for I had seen no fort or post on this
side of the hills. But their determination was plain to read.

   Again I must turn south, for the creepers on the hill came from a larger
party camped in the lower lands. All I had to guide me was the knowledge
that Yrjar was somewhere to the west.

   I lay up finally, waiting for night. And under a three-ringed moon I put
on a burst of speed. So the hours of darkness passed while I alternately ran
and walked, until my feet grew so painful that I had to rest. For a while I
stood in a pool and there I also broke my fast, for a feathered creature,
overlooking my presence because of my lack of movement, ventured too
close. It was good eating, the best I had had since the fodo, and I cracked
bones for the last taste of it.

  Then I holed up in a thicket. But not long did I have to sleep. My head
swung up and I listened, for this time sound, not scent, came first. Those
were farm hounds and they hunted. Also whatever fled before them was
coming in my direction.

   As a man I had been hunted through these hills by Osokun's followers.
Now as a beast was I also to know the chase. And there is a terror which
comes from the sound of hounds on one's track. I held steady, listening, for
I thought that I was not their quarry.

   Then a slender-legged creature burst from the brush very close to me,
passing in great leaping bounds. I recognized it for one of the wild
ruminants of the plains, considered an excellent addition to the menu and
usually hunted in numbers in the fall season so their flesh could be dried
for winter storage.

  This one had not been chased long and was running easily. But the pack
was eager, too, and only a yip or two marked their coming, for they were
running mute on a warm scent.

    Again I moved south, angling away from the path the runner had taken.
If I was lucky the hounds would be so intent upon their present game they
would not pick up my scent. Or, if they did, was a barsk so formidable they
would refuse to follow my trail?

   The only trouble was that I neared open country. Not only were there
no rocks or brush, no copses promising shelter from the sighting by a
human hunter, but the fields had been harvested, leaving only stubble.
And against that gray-yellow my own red coat must of necessity show
plainly and in bright relief.

   I caught the scent of water and remembered that a small stream ran
from the pool where I had bathed my feet. Suppose I used that for my
roadway, would it confuse my trail? What knowledge I had of such
matters came only from tapes I had scanned for my amusement. And such
hunting reminiscences, compiled from a man's point of view, might be
very faulty indeed when applied to my present plight.

   However, I could see no better answer, and waded into the stream to
follow its course. But I had not gained much distance when a loud clamor
from the place where I had lain sounded real menace. And I guessed the
worst. The hounds had picked up my scent and, by some frown of fortune,
had decided I was the better sport.

   It was sheer panic which led to my downfall. I ceased to think. Like the
plains animal that had fled, I ran, intent only upon leaving behind me that
pack. And the rigors of my traveling had sapped my strength, so that
though I strained to cover the ground, I knew that I could not draw far
enough ahead. I leaped a wall, ran across a field and—

   There was no longer ground under my pounding feet. I was in the
air…falling…falling…


                                  XII
   Sand flew up about me, my body jarred against the earth with a force
which both drove the air from my burning lungs and dazed me. Then I
heard, if dimly, the wild chorus of the hounds, and struggled to rise. My
vision was blurred, but slowly it cleared enough to show me that I was
imprisoned in a steep-walled pit. A man with fingers and toes to cling to
the irregularities of those walls might have climbed out. For four paws
with blunt nails it was an impossibility—

   I threw back my head and howled. And that cry, rendered more
resonant by the earthen funnel which held me, brought silence for a
moment or two to the slavering pack now ringing the opening above.
Excited by the chase though they were, none ventured to leap down and
join me, but took out their hatred in their cries.

   Then some of them were brushed roughly aside and I saw, from the
angle at which I must hold my head, men looking down at me. The first
shouted in open amazement and the others stared wide-eyed. One of them
raised a crossbow and I wondered if I could possibly dodge any shot,
penned as I was. But he who stood beside the archer struck down the
weapon with an angry order.

   For a time I lay panting while the hounds and one of the men kept
watch; the others had gone. Then there was a thud, and a mass of cords
landed on and about me. I jumped to my feet, which was just what they
wanted. For the net was jerked entangled in its folds, being hoisted out of
the pit.

   The hounds leaped for me, to be beaten off by their masters as I was
dumped, net and all, into a farm cart. So bound, I was transported to a
farm and pitched into a dark shed.

   About me the smell of animals, the acrid stench of man was thick. I
panted, my lolling tongue and mouth ash-dry. Water—just a few drops to
lick— But no one came near the shed as the hours wore away.

   The shock of my landing in the pit remained in aches throughout my
body, but the need for water became an all-demanding obsession. At last I
tried feebly to use mind touch, of which I had been afraid, lest superstition
lead to my instant death.

   There were minds about me, yes. But though I tried with all my failing
energy to implant in one of them my need for water, my harmlessness,
there were none I could hold long enough to make my wants known.

   I fell into an apathetic state, unable to keep fighting a lost battle. And
so they may even have thought me dead when they did come at last, how
much later I had no means of telling, save that it was dark outside when
they pulled out the net and slung the package which held me into a cart
once more. We passed a small pond and the smell of water roused me
enough to whine, to raise my head. Then a blow sent me into
unconsciousness.

   Day now, bright sun hurt my eyes. And my ears were deafened by a
clamor of shouts which I could not understand. The cart stopped and two
men stood by its lowered tailboard, looking in at me.

   "Water—" I tried to shape the word, but what came from my gaping
jaws was a hoarse and despairing whine. One of the men leaned closer and
when he spoke it was in the dialect of Yrjar which, very long ago, I too had
spoken.

  "Barsk—ten tokens—"

   "Ten scale tokens?" exploded the other. "When, counterman, do you
ever see a barsk here? And a live one—"

   "Barely so," the first commented. "I will say perhaps he remains so until
sundown. And that hide—it is cut—Even cured I could get nothing for it as
fur."

  "Twenty—"

  "Ten."

  Their voices became a drone, they wavered behind a misty curtain
which now dropped before my eyes. I was very willing to drift into a
beckoning dark which promised comfort and no more torment.

   But I was roused to life again as the net was pulled from the cart and I
was carried into a darker place, where the stink of ill-kept animals was
ripe and heavy. Once before—my memory was like a spark to be
extinguished forever—once before I had smelled just that stench. When?
How?

  Iron grip about my throat, hurting, choking— Feebly I tried to snap, to
pull away. But instead that pressure impelled me into a small dark place,
and then left me in cramped confines as a lid was slammed down. Two
holes in the side gave small eyes of light, very little air. There was some
straw, evil-smelling, for I was not the first captive to bide there. And the
smell was not only of other bodies, but of minds also, filled with fear and
hate, thickened by despair.

   I tried to curl up my aching body, pillowed my head on my forefoot,
seeking what small relief there could be in retreating from memory, from
thought, from all around me. So I existed, or lingered; I did not live.

   There was no water. Sometimes I thought or dreamed dimly of water,
of how I had walked down those streams with the wavelets curling about
my legs, sleeking my fur. And then it seemed that it had all been only a
dream and there had never existed any world beyond this stifling box.
There was no time, only an eternity of torture.

   A snap overhead, the box top was raised to let in air and light. I think I
tried to lift my head, but something heavy struck across my neck, pinning
me to the noisome floor. And I could not see who stood surveying me.

   "—near dead. You would offer that to my lord?"

   "A barsk. When do you see a barsk alive hereabouts, Freesh?"

    "Alive? Near dead, as I have said. And the hide—that is worth nothing
either. You ask fifty tokens? You are fit for the Valley if you hold to that,
fellow."

  The pressure was gone from my neck, an instant later the lid slammed
down to leave me once more in a prison. "Near dead—near dead—near
dead—"

   The words buzzed in my ears. "Barsk—near dead—"

   A barsk was an animal. I was not an animal, I was a man—a man! They
must know, must let me out. I was a man not an animal. That life spark
which had flickered close to extinction in me a moment earlier flared up
again. I tried to brace my weakened body against the walls of the box, to
attempt to fight my way to freedom. It was no use. Muscles twitched, but
there was no strength left in me.

   "A man—a man!" I could produce no sound but a faint whine. But my
thoughts shrieked to the world outside the box. "A man dies here—not an
animal but a man!"
   And with lightning swiftness a thought, clear and forceful, locked with
mine. I clung to it as one loosed from a ship's hull in space flight during
repairs would cling to his lifeline.

  "Aid—for a man who dies—"

  "Where?" came the demand so clearly that its very force brought
answering energy to my mind.

    "In a box—in a barsk body—a man not an animal—" I tried to hold that
lifeline of thought which seemed to slip through the hold of my mind, as
though the gloves of a ship-space line were greased and could not hold. "A
man—not an animal!"

   "Think, keep thinking!" An imperative order. "I must have a guide, so
think!"

   "Man—no animal—" But I could not hold, the line was slipping from me
fast. Making a supreme effort, I tried again. "Man—not a barsk—in a
box—in— I not know where—but in a city."

  Yrjar? Was that city Yrjar?

  "In a box—as a barsk—a barsk— Not barsk— man!"

   It seemed that I could not breathe, that the dark of space enfolded me
too tightly, crushed me—

  "Man—I am a man—" I clung to that, fighting hard. But the dark was
here and in it I spun away to nothingness.

  "Here!"

   Through the dark again came that thrust of answer, swift and sharp to
stir me. But I could not listen, there was nothing left but dark and an end
of all struggle.

  Light, far off, and voices which meant nothing. Then my head between
two hands, raised. Dimly I could see a face.

  "Listen," the order ringing in my brain. "You must help me in this
much. I have said you are one of my little people, that you are a trained
beast. Can you prove it?"
   Prove it? I could prove nothing, not even that I was a man, not one who
ran four-footed and killed with fangs in the dark.

   Water poured across my swollen tongue, into my jaws, three times
before I could swallow. Then again those hands cupping my head, the eyes
meeting mine, reaching into me.

  "Jorth—obey!"

  That had once meant something, but I could not remember. Someone
had called me by that name and—

  I bowed my head, tried to raise my forepaws. There were broad steps
and a man in a black-and-yellow robe who had once watched me. So, I
must bow, and do all we had planned together. We? Who?

  "My animal—"

  "There is no proof, Freesh."

  "I return what you paid for him. Or do I call the street guard?"

   Still those hands holding up my head. And once more water in my
mouth, so I could swallow. With it came a measure of life. But the hands
grasping me did not loosen.

  "Be strong, we shall go soon."

   Voices above my head washing back and forth. Then arms about me,
carrying me out into greater light, where I whined and closed my eyes
against the glare. He who bore me laid me down on a soft mat and I
sprawled there, unable to help myself. Under me the surface shook, moved,
I heard the creaking of wheels, their grating over stone pavement.

   On went the wagon, and the odors of the town stuffed my nose. I did
not try to look about me, to expand that much energy was beyond my
strength. Rattle, grate, rattle—The cart came to a stop.

  "—trained animal—"

   Plop of a footboard being pulled down and put up again. The cart
moved on. Fresher air, a breeze. Another stop, and someone dropped from
the driver's seat to the bed of the wagon, knelt beside me. My head was
raised and once more liquid poured between my jaws. But this was not
only water, it carried a stinging addition. I opened my eyes.

   "Maelen—" I thought that name. But this was not the Thassa woman
who had plunged me into this desperate venture, but the man who had
been with her at the fair. Memory returned like a faint picture much faded
by exposure and the overlay of harsh events.

  "I am Malec," came his answer. "Now rest, sleep, and have no fears. We
have won a space of free time."

  The meaning of his words did not wholly register with me as I did as he
bade and slept—though this was not the stupor of approaching death.

   There was a fire not too far from me when I awoke once more. And the
leaping flames of that were very reassuring. Fire and man, his old comfort
and weapon, so long linked in our minds with safety that our spirits lift
ever when we look into it.

   Beyond the fire was another light, and seeing that I growled—and was
startled to hear that sound. For I had momentarily been Krip Vorlund
when I roused, and it was a shock to find I still wore the guise of Jorth.

   My growl I was answered from the shadows, where the full light of the
fire, the beams of the moon globe did not reach. And my barsk nose, once
more keenly in action, told me there were other life forms, many of them,
around me in the half gloom.

   A man came into the firelight, a kettle in one hand, a long-handled
ladle in the other. I watched him pass along a line of bowls set out on the
ground, into each measuring a portion of the kettle's contents. And so he
came to me.

  "Malec of the Thassa," I said mind-fashion.

  "Krip Vorlund, from off-world."

  "You know me?"

  He smiled. "There is only one man who runs as a barsk."

  "But—?"
  "But you put on fur when I was not present? You have used Thassa
power, my friend. Did you think that such would not be known?"

  "I did not use it!" I countered.

  "Not in that way of thinking," he agreed readily. "But it was used for
your advantage."

  "Was it?" I demanded.

   "Was it not? Do you think you would have lived past your discovery by
the sword-sworn of Oskold had Maelen not wrought for you as best she
could— time allowing?"

  "But the rest—"

  He sat down upon his heels, so that now, I, up on my haunches, was a
small bit taller. "You believe that she used you for her own purposes?"

  I gave him the truth. "Yes."

   "All races have that which they swear unbreakable oaths upon. So I can
swear to you that what she did that night, she did wholly for you, the
saving of your life."

  "That night, perhaps, but thereafter? We went to the Valley—my body
was not there, but she had another—"

  He did not appear surprised. I do not believe I ever saw one of the
Thassa show that emotion as men of other races do. But there was a
moment of silence between us, before he continued:

  "What do you believe?"

   "That there were dangers beyond what she told me. That she had her
own reason for wishing me in the Valley and that was not to my good, but
hers."

   Slowly he shook his head. "Listen well, off-worlder, she did not send you
into any danger she had not already tasted. And had you not gone your
own road, you would not have been in such a plight as I found you. No
Singer among the Thassa takes on the calling of power until he or she has
worn, for a space, the guise of fur or feathers. Maelen had taken this way
before your star ship even rocket-blasted the port apron of Yrjar."

  "And that one in the Valley?"

   "Did I ever say it is not a dangerous road to walk?" he demanded. "We
do not slay the living things in the ranges, but that does not mean death
holds aloof there. Maquad took upon him beast form, and a plains lord
who went hunting without our leave shot a fatal bolt. It was one chance in
ten thousand, for we did not know any walked our holy ground and we
were not warned until too late. As for you, do you not think that Maelen
will pay for her use of our power to aid a stranger? She believed truly what
she told you, that Oskold's men would deliver your body to the temple and
that all would be well. Had you remained there—"

  "But my body is in Yrjar."

   "Yes. And now we must make new plans, and I will not deny to you that
they must be made in haste. Your friends will not understand and in their
ignorance may try cures which will instead kill."

  I shivered as along my spine sped a cold chill. "Yrjar—we must go—"

   "Not so. We have just come from Yrjar. I was able to bring you forth
from the city only by saying that I would take you beyond any inhabited
place. Maelen knows, or will know shortly, where you are. She will come
hither, and then go to your captain, tell her story—we shall see if he is a
man who will believe strange tales. Then we must plan to smuggle you into
the port so Maelen can undo what has been done. And of this whole
business"—he was frowning now—"I do not know what the Old Ones will
think, for it has broken Standing Words, and put into the hands of those
who do not share Thassa blood a secret weapon, should enemies desire
such."

  "You mean that the plainsmen do not know you can so change bodies?"

    "Yes. Think you—they are men who do not have knowledge of the spirit,
only of body and mind. Tell the ignorant among them that there are those
living on this world who can make a man into an animal, an animal into a
man, and then—do you foresee what could happen?"

  "Fear drives men to kill."
   "Just so. There would be such a hunt as would bathe the Quiet Places in
blood. Already we know that this is spoken of us—by that off-worlder Gauk
Slafid, who strove to use such knowledge as a bargaining level. Whether he
gained this information from Osokun or others of Yiktor, we do not know.
I hope he did not—at least not from Osokun, or Maelen's singing would
not have saved you. The sword-sworns would have killed you that night,
both barsk and man. Nor has any hint of it among the plainsmen since
come to me. Now our Old Ones search for it by thought. We could be
walking a thin edge of crumbling earth along the rim of a great gulf."

   "There is fighting, Oskold's neighbors turn against him. If one lord is
embroiled with another, then do you not gain time?" I told him of what
the messengers had said and what I had seen in the hills.

   "Yes, his neighbors see a chance to whittle away at Oskold, but think
you how quickly he would seize upon such a story to launch them, away
from his throat, at the Thassa! This could be a rallying cry to put the lord
who gave it at the head of a united army. That is why I believe Gauk Slafid
kept that knowledge to himself. For, if Osokun had known of it, that
knowledge would have served him much better than any foreign weapon.
He might have headed a 'holy war' against a common enemy uniting the
land under him."

  "If you can change me back, I will be off-world and willing to swear no
man shall ever hear of it from me."

   He surveyed me grimly. "The Old Ones would make sure no loose
tongues would wag. I agree that the sooner we make the exchange and get
you from Yiktor, the better. At present Osokun and his sword-sworns are
outlawed. They can live only by raiding, and that with every man's hand
against them. Sooner or later a combined force will track them down and
finish them. I do not know if Oskold could be bought by any plea from his
son to give even secret support. But, if he were so minded, he would have
to do it very secretly, lest his own men declare him oath-broke and leave
him. Outlawry is no light thing and those who aid any outlaw come
themselves at once under the ban. It needs only three freeholders to swear
to this to condemn a man. Oskold will have enough to occupy him with
these invaders."

   "And we wait now upon Maelen." I returned to what was to me the
main matter. Quarrels of feudal lords had no part in my future, or so I
believed.
   "We wait upon Maelen. She goes them to your captain at Yrjar. As I
said, much will depend upon how open a mind he has. Perhaps you can
give her some message which will reveal the truth to him, some incident
from your shared past which none on Yiktor can know. Then, if he accepts
her story, we can plan further."

  Free Traders were open-minded. They had seen to much on too many
worlds to say that this or that might never happen. But this was so unique,
could belief be stretched so far? Malec's suggestion was a good one. I set
myself to thinking of some identifying story Maelen might use on my
behalf.

   When time becomes a factor in one's life, then it can wield a whip as
sharp as those of the slave drivers of Corfu. Malec had his duties with the
animals, but I had only those thoughts which worked sharp as thorns into
my mind, keeping me pacing back and forth beside the fire. Whatever
drink and food Malec had given me since my release must have carried a
stimulant as well as nourishment, for I felt alive in every part of
me—something I had not really done since I left the Valley on my futile
quest.

   He had done with his duties for the animals and came back to sit
before the fire, turning down the moon globe. At last I sat beside him,
wishing to be taken away from all the ifs and maybes which rode me.

  "Why do the Thassa choose to run as animals?" I asked him abruptly.

   He looked at me, his large eyes seeming even larger in his pale face.
"Why do you choose to spin from world to world, calling none your home?"
he counterquestioned.

   "It is a way of life to which I have been born and bred. I know of none
different."

   "Now you do," he pointed out. "We are the Thassa, who have also been
born and bred to a way of life. Once we were a different kind of people,
akin to those now living in the plains. Then there came a moment of
choice, we were shown another path to be explored. But all things cost and
for taking this new road there was payment. It meant uprooting ourselves
and turning from all which seemed safe and secure. No more would walls
enclose us, we must gather close-knit to our kind. We set aside one life to
gain another. Now, as these plainsmen see us, we are wanderers, people
without roots. They cannot understand why we do not want what seems
treasure and the future to them; they hold us apart. And because they
have seen from time to time a little of what we gained by our choice, they
hold us also in awe. We share all life as they do not— No, not all life—as yet
we cannot share some things—the pushing growth of a tree, the putting
forth of new leaves with the season, the coming of fruit. But we can take
on a bird's wings and learn the sky after the manner of the feathered ones,
or put on fur and become four-footed for a space. You know many worlds,
star rover, but none do you begin to know as the Thassa know Yiktor and
its life!"

   Malec fell silent. His eyes turned from me, to rest upon the flames
which he fed now and then from a pile of wood beside him. Now he no
longer spoke with his thoughts, a wall stood between us. Though he did
not wear the rapt look I had seen on Maelen's face, yet I believed he was
close to that state of otherness which I had seen hold her that night in the
van.

   Night air fed many messages to my nose. After a time I went into the
shadows about the camp, sniffing my way. Many of the little people slept
in their cages, but others awoke and kept sentry. I do not think anything
could have crept undetected upon that camp.

   Maelen came before dawn. I smelled her scent before I heard the
creaking of van wheels. There was a chittering behind me which was both
greeting and signal. Malec struggled out of his blanket roll by the now
dying fire and I joined him; we stood together as she came into the half
light of the camp.

   It was to me she looked. I do not know what I had expected, rebuke
perhaps for my folly in leaving the Valley—though I refused to think it
folly, judging by what I had known, or suspected, at the time. After all,
how could the Thassa begin to understand what their accepted customs
could mean to another?

  But only weariness showed on her face—as one who had stood a long,
unrelieved watch of duty. Malec held up his arms to aid her from her seat,
and she came into them with a sigh. Before I had always seen her strong;
now she was altered, though how I did not know.

  "There are riders in the hills," she said.
   "Oskold is beleagured," Malec returned. "But come—" He supported her
to the fire, stirred its dying flames to feed it more wood. Then he put into
her hand a horn he filled from a small flask. She sipped slowly, pausing
between each mouthful. Then, cupping the horn against her breast, she
spoke to me.

  "Time passes, Krip Vorlund. With the dawn I am for Yrjar."

   I think Malec would have protested, but she did not glance at him.
Instead she stared now into the fire and drank all the horn held, sip by
careful sip.


                                  XIII
   It was a bright morning, such as brings the strong wine of wind to
refresh nose and throat, a dazzling shaft of sun, the feeling in both man
and animal that it is good to be alive. Before the sun had touched the
ground where Malec had set our camp, Maelen mounted the riding kas
her kinsmen readied for her, and started west. I longed to run beside her.
The good sense which kept me behind was more prison than any cage bars
that morning. We watched her out of sight, and Malec walked among the
cages, opening each door so that the occupant could come or go at will.

   Some still slept as balls of fur. Others blinked and roused, but only a
few came out. Simmle shouldered past the door and bounced to me,
uttering sharp yelps of welcome, her rough tongue ready in caress. But
Malec dropped his hand upon her head and straightway she looked up to
him, her tail drooping. She glanced from right to left, whined, and then
trotted into the bush.

  "What is it?" I asked of the Thass.

   "Maelen said there are men in the hills. They may not all be intent on
raiding Oskold. Somewhere the outlaws run."

  "You think they might attack?"

  "They need food, much else, if they are to survive. And there is only one
way to get supplies, and that is to take them by force. We do not carry
much to tempt them, but desperate men will fight for crumbs."
   "The animals—"

   "Some would be merely meat for the spit to such a party. Others would
be killed, because men who are without hope kill for the sake of killing. If
there comes trouble the little people can take to the land and be safe."

   "And you?" He was making preparations as if he expected just such a
raid soon. At his belt hung the long knife which was a part of normal
apparel all over Yiktor. He had no sword, nor had I seen a crossbow in
camp. Now he smiled.

  "I, too, know the countryside as few of those who might so descend
upon us. When our sentries give warning—then will the raiders find an
empty camp."

   Simmle was a sentry, I guessed.

   "And you, if you will—" Malec continued.

   Why not? As Simmle had done I went into the bushes, putting nose,
eyes, and ears at his service. A few moments later I looked back at the
vans. There were four of them—the lighter, smaller one which Maelen had
taken, the three Malec must have brought from Yrjar. But who were the
drivers for two of those? Save for the animals he was alone. Puzzled, I
wondered about that—unless the kasi that had drawn them had followed
behind the one he drove.

    Though the cages had been set in a circle about the campfire, which
still gave off a few lazy spirals of smoke, the rest of the gear had not been
unpacked. I watched Malec go from wagon to wagon, busy himself in the
interior of each for a space. Perhaps he was repacking contents for a
longer pull.

  As I had on my journey across Oskold's land, I skulked from bush to
bush, going into higher land.

  We were, I decided, in the fringe of the hill country. Although why
Malec had brought us into what might well be dangerous territory, I could
not guess. I kept on climbing until I found a ledge on which grew
concealing brush.

   Though the branches had lost most of their leaves, still I thought I was
well masked by the growth; from this point I could see the camp, plus a
good slice of the country about it. There was no road leading to here. But
the tracks of the vans were still visible in crushed grass and earth and
there was little chance of hiding that trail for the present.

   Malec was invisible within one of the vans, nor, as far as I could see,
had many of the animals issued from their cages. The scene was one of
drowsy peace and quiet, lulling to watch. The wind had died down, little
scent carried to me. I continued to test with my nose. Simmle must be
prowling to the south; perhaps there were other guards, stationed to the
west.

   The sun climbed into a cloudless sky, bringing almost summer warmth
as can happen in midautumn months. Malec emerged from a van, a yoke
across his shoulders, buckets dangling from its ropes. He went down to the
stream, which I could see only as a flicker of sun on water here and there.

   Then—Simmle barked fiercely, once. I squeezed from under my brush
shield. A puff of wind upslope had brought me warning. I leaped from the
ledge into a lower thicket, wriggled through its spiky grasp. That one war
cry from Simmle and then nothing— nothing but the scent and sounds
which perhaps a human ear could not have caught, but which to barsk
hearing were as loud as a fanfare of horns. I slipped through the cover,
heading to camp, dropped to my stomach, and crept under the nearest
van.

  Malec wavered up the slope from the stream. Yoke and buckets were
gone. He stumbled and slipped, one hand pressed to his breast, the other
out-flung, fingers moving vainly as if he tried to grasp some support which
was not there.

   He went to his knees before he reached the circle of the cages, and then
sank slowly forward. From between his shoulders, dancing with his heavy
gasps of breath, stood the shaft of a crossbow bolt. His hands pushed into
the soil, and then his efforts ceased and he fell forward on his face, quiet
and spent.

   As if his struggle had been a signal, those in the cages burst forth and
fled, voiceless and swift. They were gone, hidden perhaps to any man's eye,
but not to my nose or ear.

  I crept on, though such a mode of travel was hard for my barsk body.
There was someone coming up the bank from the river, trying to move
quietly, but with little success, from my point of view.

   Continuing on under the shadow of the van, I began a circuit of the
campfire. Malec had not moved, but his assailant was very cautious.
Perhaps the other did not know that the Thassa had been alone save for
the animals. I tried to reach Malec through mind-touch. He was still alive,
but there was no consciousness to pick up my message.

   I reached the end of the van. There were the cages, but I did not know if
they were sufficiently high to hide me. Or dared I play a bewildered
animal out in the open? As I hesitated, a tan streak ran to my left.
Simmle! What was she doing?

   She did not pause by Malec, but angled down in the direction of the one
who scouted toward the camp. I got to my feet and flashed after her. I still
had not seen her quarry when he screamed. A moment later I nearly fell
over the furiously fighting tangle of man and venzese. He was crying out,
trying to hold snapping jaws from his throat with both hands.

   I jumped and tore, and Simmle got the grip she fought for. In those
seconds I was more barsk than man, in me boiled a red rage I would not
have believed I could house.

   There was a shout, something whizzed so close to my shoulder that I
felt the burn of its passing. Simmle still worried her victim and now I
leaped a second time, striking against her, bearing her to the ground with
my weight.

  "Loose!" I beamed that thought order at her. "Loose—come!"

  Again a bolt struck close. The smell of blood was fuel to my beast rage,
but I fought against that emotion.

   "Loose—come!" I had opened my jaws to seize upon eyes red and
gleaming. She growled as one who warns another from legitimate prey.

   "Come!" Again I launched myself against her and this time my plunge
sent her sprawling away from the body. She growled, but got to her feet as
a bolt struck where she had lain but a second before. She snapped
viciously at where it stood quivering in the ground, and bounded with me
up the slope.
   They continued to shoot after us and I zigzagged, hoping Simmle would
follow my example. We came into the camp only a few feet from Malec,
who lay just as I had seen him fall. Simmle dipped her head to nose him
and then sounded a shuddering howl.

   "On!" I urged her. She swung around, showing her teeth as if to launch
at me. Then some of the red light dimmed from her eyes and she ran with
me, shoulder to shoulder, between the vans to the country beyond.

   I had no idea where the other animals had vanished to, though I caught
their mingled scent and thought they had taken this same route. I was not
even sure how many there were, or of what different species.

   "Up!" I ordered Simmle. She had swung around and paused, facing
back toward the camp. Her usually sleek hair was rough along the spine,
and her head was down between hunched shoulders, stained fangs
exposed as her muzzle wrinkled in a snarl. She took a step or two down
our back trail. Then she turned again and led me in a wild race in the
brush.

   We worked our way well up into the heights before we halted and lay
panting, watching the camp. There were men there now, kicking at the
cages where the doors swung open, thrusting swords into the interiors of
the vans as if to hunt out anything which might be hiding there. From
Maelen's they tumbled boxes, breaking open their fastenings to find
supplies of the meat-and-grain cakes. All in sight seized upon these
eagerly, wolfing them down with the greed of men who had missed many
meals.

  They had dragged Malec's body to one side, bundling it out of the way
under one of the vans. Two of the men walked along the line of the kasi
where those animals snorted and pulled at their ropes, kicking out at any
who approached too near.

   The empty cages appeared to fascinate some of the men. They pushed
them over as if unable to believe that they were bare of occupants, as if
this rough handling would dislodge what must be within.

  Into the disordered camp now rode a small party of three. One man
supported another in the saddle of his mount, while the third came
behind, as if to cover a rear attack. Now it was my turn to snarl. He who
was being so tended I had last faced in the border fort. These were
Osokun's outlaws who were making themselves free of the camp, and some
time recently their leader had met with rough handling. His right arm was
bound across his chest and his face was white and drawn. He was a sorry
ghost of the cocky lordling who had tried to dictate terms to Free Traders.

   The spoiling of the vans continued as the men sorted through the
contents of boxes and baskets. Food appeared to be their first concern and
they ate hugely, before putting all that was left into saddle bags. Some
then went in a southwesterly direction and returned leading riding kasi. A
few of the animals limped and all showed signs of hard and too long
riding.

   But the men were in no hurry to leave the camp. They lifted Osokun
from his mount and put him on the divan they pulled from Malen's van.
One of the men who had supported him heated water on the fire, busying
himself with the tending of his leader's wound. It would seem, however,
that Osokun was no longer in command, for the orders of another man set
the plunderers to work righting some of the mess they had made. He bent
on one knee by the van under which they had rolled Malec's body and
made a slow, careful study of their victim. Then, by his orders, the others
pulled forth the Thassa and carried him off into the brush.

   Beside me I felt Simmle's tense muscles, I heard her almost soundless
growl.

  "Not yet," I thought to her, "not yet—"

   Whether I could hold her, I did not know. But I was considering our
plight. Maelen had gone to Yrjar and had said that time was short. She
would speed in both going and returning. And from present signs the
outlaws were not planning to leave the camp soon.

   Instead they were fast restoring to the vans all they had dragged out of
them, pitching in the plundered containers, but getting them out of sight.
Another man was going around among the empty cages, not only righting
them in their original positions, but even latching their doors. When they
had done, the officer looked around and nodded. As far as I could see, they
were setting up the camp to look undisturbed.

  This could mean only one thing. They believed that in Malec they had
not gotten all of the Thassa, and they were setting a trap for the others.
Did they know of Maelen? Had they perhaps trailed her the day before,
and waited now to seize her?

   I tested the air. Many of those scents I knew. If the little people had
fled, none had gone far. Already my nose located perhaps ten or twelve
within a short distance of the place where Simmle and I crouched. I tried
to open my mind to them and suffered a slight shock. Not only were the
animals all there, but they were united in purpose as I could not think
normal beasts of such diverse species could be. Flight was not in their
minds, but battle was.

   "No!" I struggled to deny that thought from mind to mind. But they
withstood me. I was not Maelen or Malec, or any leader they
acknowledged.

   "Not now!" I tried to change, but I despaired of getting through to
them. In the daylight, with the men below armed and alert, the furred
army would have very little chance. "Maelen—"

  In my mind I built up a picture of Maelen as I had seen her in her
power, all ruby and silver, directing her little people on the stage.
"Maelen!" I thought at them. "Remember Maelen!"

   Simmle whined very, very softly—she remembered . But the others,
could I reach them so? I almost shut out the world of sight, sound, smell,
held only to the world of the mind, picturing Maelen, trying in turn to
learn their response to that picture.

  "Maelen!"

   They were responding! I tamped down relief and excitement as I sensed
that response, concentrated on what I must give them now.

  "Maelen comes—"

  Upsurge of excitement.

  "Not yet—" I hastened to repair what might have been a fatal move.
"But soon—soon—"

  Some questioning now.

  "Soon. Below—they wait for Maelen—" I was fumbling, trying hard,
conscious that I might make a mistake which would send them in the very
direction they must not go.

  Anger now, rising hotly.

   "We must find Maelen, before she comes!" I built up as best I could a
mental picture of her as I had last seen her—but this time riding toward
the camp, not away. "Find Maelen before she comes."

   It was like a sea wave rippling downslope as that thought flooded from
one small mind to the next. Then I knew they were moving out, not toward
the camp and the enemy below, but to circle wide of that danger spot and
head into the plains westward.

   I lay where I was, continuing to watch the camp. Though I had no
experience of warfare, I believed I was interpreting the enemy action
aright. Osokun had been taken into Maelen's van, his nurse and guard
stowing away there with him. The rest of the men hid in the vans or under
them, save for one who was busy watering and feeding the kasi. One other,
after conferring with the officer, disappeared westward, a scout I thought.

  Now I spoke to Simmle. "Stay, watch."

  Her lips wrinkled back from her fangs.

  "Stay—watch—"

  Her first objection faded, she growled.

  "Not fight, watch—Maelen comes."

   Her agreement was blurred, not the sharp return I would have received
from Maelen, Malec, or a human. I could only hope that she would remain
in the same humor while I was gone.

  The scout was my present objective. I crept out of cover, needing to
make a wide detour around the camp. Surely those in hiding there must
have been puzzled as to what had happened to the vanished animals. They
would be on the lookout for four-footed as well as two-footed travelers.

  I had not seen any hounds with the outlaw band, and out in the open
country I believed that none of us need fear any man unless we foolishly
courted detection. So when there was a goodly slice of woodland between
me and the camp, I dashed on at the pace which came natural to this
long-legged body, and cut west. It was my intention to work back toward
the hills, crisscrossing the way any scout must come, taking him unawares
and far enough from the others to hide the deed.

   Twice my path crossed that of others of Maelen's band and each time I
asked concerning the scout, only to receive negative answers. But I
lingered long enough to impress upon them the urgent need for secrecy
until they could find their mistress.

   It had been almost noon when Malec had been struck down. With the
best of success, I did not believe we could expect Maelen to return before
two days passed. And I hoped those setting the trap in camp would grow
discouraged before the end of that time. The strategy I had used to take
the animals out of danger would be successful, unless they lost patience
and returned.

   Taking out the scout might be profitable in two ways, I reflected, as I
continued my personal search. If their man did not return, then they
might either send someone to look for him—affording another prey—or
else they would conclude they were in danger and retreat.

   I came down to the river and there I saw the traces of how they had
come upon us, for the signs of their riding were there. Drinking my fill, I
pried one of the understone dwellers loose from his hole and snapped him
up. There was no time for a true hunt, and food was fuel which the body
must have.

   Twilight closed in as I crossed and recrossed, running by scent as well
as by eyes and ears. The passing of the enemy troop was easy to pick up
though it was hours old. But why I found no trace of the scout began to
worry me.

   Then I remembered that one scent among all those others occurred
again and again—that of a kas. I had dismissed it as a trace of the first
party, yet sometimes it was so strong as to seem fresh, and a whiff of it
brought me now to a closer investigation. A patch of soft soil gave me a
mark needing explanation. It smelled strongly of kas, but the print left
there was of no kas hoof, instead a shapeless splotch which bore no
resemblance to any animal track I had seen.
    I put my nose well down into the depression, drawing a deep breath
into my lungs. Kas, so strong that it almost entirely hid all else. But under
the kas was another scent, and beside that yet another. I crouched low and
sniffed again. Hunter's wiles I did know as my man body would not have.
There was kas, as strong as a stench, and under it some herb, and inside
still—man. Suppose a man, seeking to elude those to whom scent was a
powerful aid, would rub himself with an herb to deaden his natural odor,
and then put on an outer covering steeped in kas?That could be the
answer to my riddle and it was one I accepted. But to follow this kas—

   Still doubting my ability to use barsk instincts, I went on. Perhaps the
rest of our company had been befooled so. Back there Osokun, or the
officer now in his place as leader, had a clever mind, and was using it to
counter just what I had been doing.

   Kas—I began to run the trail from that unclear footprint. It was strong,
rankly so, but I had to puzzle out other odors from time to time, not
daring to run on kas trace alone, for now and then it crossed early traces
of the same beasts, perhaps the outlaw mounts.

   The dusk gathered in. Still the kas trail pointed west, now in more open
country where there was very little cover, and where any man, pausing to
scout his back trail, could see a follower, I sat down upon my haunches,
sending out a mental call—

   My first answer came from the north. I recognized the hard-to-hold,
in-and-out pattern of either Borda or Vors.

  "One smells kas, is not. Where?" I attempted to send my message.

  "No kas?" It was inquiry.

  "Kas smell but not kas," I repeated.

  "No—" That reply was emphatic.

  Again I sent my call and had faint answer. "Kas but not kas?"

  "Kas—yes—"

  I turned south. Perhaps I was on a false trail, but I must check it. But I
was to discover that he whom I hunted was a master at this game. For I
soon came upon the reek of kas strong and clear again. And my
satisfaction at finding it was so great that I ran swiftly into the growing
dark, trailing by nose, which was just what my quarry expected. I had
drawn a deep breath before I realized my danger.

   Smarting fire filled my nose, and the shock was so great I leaped
straight up into the air, then pushed my nostrils into stubble and sand,
pawing at my tormented flesh. The vile smell so clogged my whole head
that my eyes teared.

   I dragged myself across the ground, pushing my nose into the earth,
scraping at it until my blunted nails tore the skin. I could smell nothing
except the stink which now seemed a part of my own flesh. And that made
me so sick that I rolled over and over, rubbing first one side of my head
and then the other against the ground, until I was forced to raise myself
and vomit.

   There was a period until my wits began to work again. Either he who I
tailed suspected he was being tracked, or else he had just used a general
precaution. But he had flooded his path with some sickening liquid which
had deadened my very important sense of smell. My eyes still watered and
the tingling in my nose was a torment. But I had eyes and ears, and
perhaps the aid of others.

  Again I sent out a call. There were three answers from nearby.

  "Kas—not kas—man—evil smell—"

   Prompt agreement from all three, apparently the smell had reached
them. But from farther off, Borba:

  "Man comes—"

   Once more I rubbed my head against the earth. My eyes watered, but
not so much I could not see. And this night was made for barsk activity,
no shadow was as dense for me as it was for human eyes. I stood behind a
rock, listening, watched, put aside the misery in my nose. Undoubtedly a
real barsk or other animal would have been thrown off by that weapon. It
was the misfortune of Osokun's scout that he did not now come to face a
true barsk.

  He moved slowly, and he was not a true man outline at all, rather a
shapeless bulk, his kas-hide disguise hanging loosely about him, I readied
myself—

  Now and then he paused for long moments, probably trying to pick out
some landmark.

    Perhaps a barsk attacks with sound. I did not as I flashed forward,
striking at that portion of the approaching rounded shape which I
believed to be my best target. And cunning as he had proven himself to be,
I took him by surprise.


                                  XIV
   I made the kill after the pattern Simmle had set me, then lay back
panting on the ground beside the thing which had so recently breathed,
walked, and been a man. Dimly I wondered that I did not feel the burden
of my deed—it was as if in this I was far more barsk than man. That I had
killed was a fact, but one which did not move me. We of the Traders use
weapons in defense, but we do not carry war with us, preferring ever to
find a way around a difficulty. I had seen men die before I planeted on
Yiktor, but mainly from natural causes and accidents. And, when it had
been otherwise, it had always happened in quarrels among aliens or
strangers which were of no concern to the Traders, nor which involved any
close to me.

   But in this killing I was involved as perhaps those of my blood had not
been involved for eons of time. Yet I did not care, save that I was in a
manner satisfied with a job ably done. And there stirred in me a small fear
that perhaps the longer I remained a beast, the stronger would the animal
become, until there would run only Jorth on four feet, and he who walked
on two would vanish.

   This was no time to let fear stir me from what must be done, however,
and I resolutely pushed aside that disturbing thought, to consider what
action lay immediately before me. Should I leave this scout where he was,
to be found by those who might come seeking him? Or would it be more
baffling, and therefore upsetting to them, to have him vanish utterly?

   "Dead—dead!" Out of the bushes came one of the long-nosed,
big-earred animals I had last seen dancing to the drums on Maelen's stage
at the fair, and mounted on its back was one of the ring-tailed riders. They
both peered down at the scout and from them came a wave of satisfaction.

   "Dead," I agreed and licked my paws, rubbing my nose still clogged by
that choking stench.

    The big-earred beast sniffed at the body and signaled repulsion before
it retreated. I looked at the remains and decided to leave all as it was. The
ground where the soil was softest, to leave a readable print. Both creatures
looked at me in surprise, and their query was open to read.

   "Leave signs—all against men," I tried. I could never be sure how well
they understood. Perhaps it was only when my suggestions matched their
own wishes that they would obey. But I was very doubtful concerning
ideas.

   They both stared down at the earth where I had made those signature
prints. Then the smaller one jumped from the back of his fellow and
planted both forepaws, the digits well spread, directly beside the marks I
left. He stood up on hind legs to view the result, his head slightly on one
side. The prints looked like those of small human hands.

   The big-eared one shambled over and walked back and forth, his
long-toed feet making a web pattern, before the smaller one remounted. I
examined the ground. Now let those others find the scout. The record
about him would give them a few thoughts. Three creatures of very
different species looked to have shared the pulling down of the man. If the
enemy could be led to believe that all the animals from the camp had
turned against them, we could make them look twice at every lurking
place behind bush or tree, have them hear attack in every leaf rustle. Of
their own accord no such dissimilar company of beasts would combine
against a common foe; it was not their nature. But the Thassa had powers
which the plainsmen already held in awe.

   The outlaws had been desperate enough to kill Malec. Perhaps now they
would believe that not only natural but supernatural powers were allied
against them. And for men already on the run, such knowledge would give
a whip toward complete breakdown.

   We left together, making for a space no effort to hide our going, but
rather leaving plain tracks of three who traveled in company. After a time
we began to conceal our trail, so that to any human tracker it would seem
we had vanished into thin air.
   Dawn found us in a dell where a spring bubbled. There were rocks
among which we sheltered. My companions dozed, as did I, but we could
wake in an instant to anything which was not ordinary. We were well to
the east of the camp and, as nearly as I could tell, somewhere along the
way Maelen must use on her return. But how soon we might expect her I
did not know. My nose was still clogged, and with that foul odor ever
about me, I could not test any breeze.

   It was an odd day—the sun was cloud-veiled, but there was no hint of
rain, rather a misty hiding of the horizon. There was the feeling that
beyond the limit of one's sight was a significant and perhaps dangerous
shifting, that one could not depend upon what was reported by one's eyes.
And I wished at that moment that at least one of our company was
equipped with wings, that we could have a spy whose vision of the country
would be wider and better than our own.

   But if there had ever been any birds or flying creatures among the
Thassa little people, I had never seen them. So our sight was limited. What
did happen during the day was an increasing contact with the rest of the
scattered company. They linked minds at times so that fragmentary
reports sped along a line wide enough, I hoped, to cover the whole front
Maelen might cross in her return to the hills.

   There were paired combinations such as the two who shared my refuge
in the dell, the big eared animals and their riders. Apparently these
partnerships did not exist only on the stage, but held continually. Borba
and Vors, Tantacka, the ones who had drummed and some I could not
identify, all reported. Simmle must have remained at the camp as I had
asked, for I did not pick up any answer from her.

   We did not venture further into the plains. It was better to reserve our
strength by waiting for Maelen. I discovered during that day, as I tried to
hold and read those minds, that the little people did not equate the Thassa
with the plainsmen, whom they looked upon as natural enemies to be
avoided and regarded with suspicion and wariness. The Thassa, however,
were accepted wholeheartedly as kin and trustworthy companions. I
remembered what Maelen and Malec had said—that the Thassa who
would be Singers dwelt as animals for a space. What form had Maelen
worn when she had so run the hills? Had she been one with Vors, or
Simmle, or these with whom I now companied? Did one have a choice or
was one assigned? Or was it chance, as it had been with me because the
barsk ailed and was available?

   Twice during the day I roved out into the open country as stealthily as I
could, seeking for any traveler. And on my second trip I sighted a mounted
company heading toward the hills. But they were a troop riding under
some lord's banner, armed men mustering perhaps—and they were some
distance to the south. I knew they would sight none of us.

    Impatience came with nightfall. We sought food, prowling up and down
the line we had assigned ourselves. I found my luck was such as to keep my
belly empty, for I could not scent any game. But water was not lacking and
I learned that to go hungry does not cripple one.

  There came the middle part of the night and with it a ripple of
message. "One comes!"

  Only one person, I thought, could awaken that response in those with
whom I shared this vigil.

  "Maelen!" I sent an imperative mind-call into the night.

   "Coming." It was dull, a whisper, if such communication can be so
judged.

   "Maelen." In contrast my sending was a wordless shout. "Trouble!—take
care, wait—let us know where you are."

  "Here—" Louder, a beacon to which we gathered from brush and grass.

    She sat there in the moonlight on her hard-ridden kas. In contrast to
the clouded day, the night was clear and the Three Rings burned in a glory
of light. Her cloak was about her shoulders, the hood pulled over her head
so that we could see no woman, only a dark figure on a stumbling mount. I
ran into the open with my ground-covering leaps.

  "Maelen—trouble!"

   "What?" Again her send was a whisper, tired, as if strength had ebbed
from her and she kept going by will alone. Now fear nipped at me, and I
sped to her.

  "Maelen, what is wrong? Have you been harmed?"
   "No, but what has passed?" Her question was stronger, her body
straightened.

  "Osokun's men raided the camp."

  "Malec? The little people?"

   "Malec"—I hesitated and could find no way to tell it better—"is dead.
The others are with me here. We have been waiting for you. They have
tried to make the camp into a trap for us."

  "So!" The weariness had gone out of her. She made of that word the
whistle of a whip lash. "How many of them?"

  "Perhaps twelve. Osokun is wounded, another has taken command."

   For me anger had always been a hot and burning thing, but the wave of
emotion which washed from her to touch me now was cold, very cold and
deadly. Also it was very deep, and I flinched as I might have dodged a blow
from her hand.

   Moonlight became silver sparks as it struck the wand she held out. The
light appeared to drip from that rod, until it held my eyes, made me dizzy.
And she sang, first in a low murmur, but the words, the notes entered into
one, became a tingling along the veins, nerves, muscles; and then louder
and louder, to fill one's head, driving out all save a will and purpose that
caught us up and welded us all into a single weapon which fitted her hand
as perhaps no sword has ever suited the plainsman who bore it.

   I saw that silver wand move and I marched in obedience to it, with all
the others of that furred company, as Maelen and her sword-sworn took
the field. Of that journey back to the hills I do not now remember
anything; for, as those with me, I was filled with a purpose which crowded
out all else, save the necessity for satisfying the hunger that Maelen's
singing had set in me. And the answer to the hunger was blood.

   There came a moment when we lay in hiding and looked down upon the
camp. To our eyes this was deserted save by the kasi that stamped and
nickered at their lines. But our other sense made it plain that those we
hunted were still there.

  Again Maelen sang, or else the echo of her earlier song moved in me.
She got to her feet and started down the slope toward the vans. Back and
forth before her she moved her wand. It had been burning silver in the
moonlight. Now, though it was day, yet still it was bright, dripping fire
from its tip.

   I heard a shout from the camp. And then we were in upon them.

   These were men used to dealing with animals they considered inferior
beings, to be hunted, slain, tamed. But animals that had no fear of man,
who combined for the slaying of men—these were so opposed to nature as
our enemies had always known it that the very strangeness of our attack
unnerved them in the beginning. Always Maelen sang. In us her song was
a willing, a sending—what it might have been to the outlaws, I do not
know. But I remember two men at least who dropped their weapon and
rolled upon the ground, mouthing senseless cries, trying to cover their ears
with empty hands. And such were easily dealt with. We were not all lucky,
we could not be, but we did not know that until the singing ended and we
stood in a camp we had taken at cost.

   I was as one awakened from a vivid, frightening dream. I saw the dead,
and one part of me knew what we had done. But another awakened from
sleep and pushed aside such memories. Maelen stood there, not surveying
the bodies, but rather staring straight ahead, as if she dared not look upon
the havoc spread around her.

   Her hands hung limply at her sides and in one of them was the wand.
But it no longer shimmered with life, it was dull and dead, while her pale
face was ashen gray, her eyes turned inward.

   I heard a whimpering cry and toward her came Simmle, dragging
herself along the ground, a great wound welling blood across her
hindquarters. Then I heard other cries and whines as those who had
battled, and were still living, tried to reach their mistress. But she did not
look at them, only stared ahead.

   "Maelen!"

  Fear welled in my mind. Was it only a husk of womankind, or
Thassakind, who stood there unheeding?

   "Maelen!" I put into that mental cry all the strength I could summon.
  Simmle whimpered. She had pulled herself to Maelen's feet, stretched
out her head to rest it upon a dusty boot. "Maelen!"

   She stirred, almost reluctantly, as if she had no wish to return from
that place of nothingness which had held her. Her fingers loosened and the
wand fell ¦from her grasp, rolled into the mud of blood and dust, a dead
thing. Then her eyes came alive as she looked upon Simmle.

   With a cry as desolate as any uttered by her animals, she knelt and laid
her hand on the venzese's head. And I knew that she was safely back with
us again. For a time then it was a matter of tending the wounded, seeing
what could be done for what was left of the company. There were no
outlaws left alive, but also too many of the little people were gone.

   I dragged a bucket down to the river and filled it with water, brought it
back once, twice, for Maelen's use while she wrought with her simples and
herbs for the easing of the wounded. And on the third such trip my nose,
recovering at last from the assault by stench, told me of danger—man
scent, strong, recent, going off into the bushes. I put down the bucket and
went to nose out that trail, though I had not gone far before the summons
came via mind-touch for my return.

   With a nagging suspicion that I had better follow that trail and soon, I
returned. Someone had escaped the battle by the vans, and with a
crossbow even one man could lie upslope and pick us off at his ease. Full of
this I ran back to camp and Maelen, but before I could report my find she
spoke:

  "There is that I must tell you—"

  "Maelen, there were—" I began to interrupt.

   Almost imperiously she refused to listen, continued. "Krip Vorlund, I
bring ill news from Yrjar."

   For the first time in hours I returned to the plight of Krip Vorlund. And
I was startled by the wrench needed to bring my thoughts back from
Jorth's concerns to Krip's.

  "The captain of the Lydis appealed to fair law when you were taken by
Osokun's men. One of your shipmates was struck down and left for dead,
but recovered to tell of what happened, identified the clan pattern he saw.
Then it was a matter for the Overjustice, and a party went under
claim-banner to Oskold's, where they found your body. They took it back
to Yrjar, believing Osokun's treatment had broken your mind. The medico
of the Lydis said that only off-world could they find the proper aid.
Thus—" She paused, eyes meeting mine. Yet in hers there was nothing, for
they looked beyond me, seeking something more than Krip Vorlund, or
Jorth. "Thus," she began again, "the Lydis went from Yiktor with your
body on board. This is all I could learn, for there are strange troubles
abroad in the city."

   Inside me somehow I knew she spoke the truth. For a long moment or
so it had no meaning, nor did I listen to what else she was saying—it was
as if she spoke some other language.

   No body! The thought began to beat inside my head, growing louder
and louder, until I could have screamed with the rhythm of the thumping.
But as yet it was only a beating, not something I understood. Now she no
longer looked into any far distance, but to me. And she tried, I believe, to
reach through the beating to my mind. Only nothing she said meant
anything. I was not Krip Vorlund, I would never be again—I was Jorth—

   I heard sounds, I saw Maelen through a scarlet haze, her eyes wide, her
lips moving. Her commands were far away, muffled by that beating. I was
Jorth, I was death—I would hunt—

   Then I was on the trail I had found in the bushes by the river. Hot and
rich, the scent filled my nose. Kill—but to kill one must live a little longer.
Be not too reckless, a barsk was cunning, a barsk was—

   A beast with centuries of beast craft to call upon in mind. Let Jorth be
entire. I withdrew, skulked apart as the remnants of what had once been a
man, watching the going of the beast on the age-old business of the hunt.
Three different scents I nosed out, one from the other. No kasi—these men
fled afoot. And around one hung a sickliness which told of injury. Three,
heading back into the hills.

   They would be watching for a tracker, yes. This was a matter in which
to use all skill. Nose here, nose there, watch ahead for aught which could
be an ambush. Perhaps the cunning of man was still joined with that of
the beast.

   It would seem that they could not climb the steeper slopes. Perhaps the
hurt one was too great a burden, for the trail followed the easiest footing. I
found once where they had paused and there was a blood-stained rag I
nosed disdainfully. But they kept doggedly on the march, heading toward
the border of Oskold's land. Now I searched for other scents—those of the
invaders I had seen in these hills. I was not of any mind to be robbed of my
prey.

   And ever there was a plucking at my mind from behind, though I held a
barrier against that, refusing to open to call. I was Jorth and Jorth
hunted, that was all that was real—just as perhaps Jorth would cease to be
before another day. But if Jorth did so die, it would not be alone.

   Up and up. I came to a place where two saplings had been hacked from
their roots, and thereafter I followed only two sets of tracks, not three. Two
carried the third, and their pace was much slower.

   Now I left the trail, for we entered a gully between two sharply slanted
rises, and I believed those I trailed would stay in the bottom of that cut.
But I did not go at a blind gallop, rather did I slip from one cover to the
next. Nor did I bury my nose on any close scent, remembering the trick
the scout had played upon me.

   Night came and still I caught no sight of them. I marveled a little at
their ability to keep ahead, burdened as they were—unless they had left
the camp before, not during, our attack, and so had more of a start than I
had judged. The moon was with me, throwing into sharp relief the
landscape, veiling part in shadows which cloaked my advance.

  Then I saw them. The two on their feet leaned against a large rock
outcrop. Even as I sighted them, one slid down that support and sat, his
head drooping on his chest, his hands falling limply between his
outstretched legs. The other breathed in great gasps, but kept on his feet.
While on a rude stretcher lay the third, and from him came small
whistling moans.

   Two were done, I decided, but that other who still stood—him I
watched carefully. He moved at last, fell to his knees, and brought forth a
small flask he held to the mouth of the man on the stretcher. But that one
flung up his arm and struck outward, uttering a harsh, excited cry. The
flask hit the boulder and burst, leaving a dark trickle on the rock. He who
had held it gave a hoarse grunt, tried to reach the fragments, then raised
his head and looked about wildly as if hunting something in the wilderness
about them to relieve his misery.

   All this time the man who_sat had not moved. But now he shook his
head slowly from side to side as if trying to clear it of some clouding mist.
Then he pulled back to his feet, bracing himself against the rock. The
moonlight fell now across his face, and I saw that he was the one who had
guarded Osokun's rear when he and his companion had brought their
wounded lord into the Thassa camp. I had not wondered about the
identity of the three I had followed; somehow I had known from the first
whom I would find here. Nor did it astonish me to see that I knew this one
from an even earlier time, when he had done his lord's will in the narrow
cell of the border fort.

  Krip Vorlund—who was Krip Vorlund—what call had he on Jorth the
barsk for vengeance? It did not matter. These were my kill—

   So much did I consider them my prey that I came into the open
without any more use of cunning, and gave a war cry in the deep-chested
growl of my kind. He that lay upon the stretcher would be helpless. The
other two—let them fight for their lives. It was better that way.

   I sprang for the man now standing. I do not think his fatigue-dulled
mind and ears had really carried the message of my presence before my
weight struck him full in the chest, crashed him to the ground, my fangs
aiming true.

  Easy—easy prey!

   I snapped and tore, then was up, facing the other. He had steel, bright
and clear in the moonlight, waiting in his hand as he half crouched
between me and the stretcher. He shouted—battle cries?Calls for
assistance? What did it matter—they were not for my ears and would
matter to no one.

  But the blade did, and we wove a pattern between us like the intricate
design of some formal dance. I made him ever turn and twist and in the
end that was my advantage, since his fatigue deadened his limbs with
chain weights. At last my jaws closed upon the wrist of his sword hand.
And that was the beginning of a swift end.

  Panting from that dance of death, I turned upon the stretcher. He who
had been carried on it was sitting up. Perhaps fear had overridden his
weakness of body for those seconds, giving him a return of energy. I saw
his hand move, a flash of light spun through the air, then came a blow
between neck and shoulder as the knife bit hard and deep. But since he
had not killed me outright, he had not saved himself. Thus it was that I lay
at last among my dead, and thought that here, too, died Jorth the barsk,
who had once been partly a man. This was a good ending for one who had
no hope of returning along the strange path leading to this time and place.
>br>
                              MAELEN
                                XV
    Scales of Molaster. Days ago—nights and moons, days and suns, since I
started on that strange path to adjust the scales of Molaster. But now they
were as unbalanced as ever, and instead of doing good my efforts had
wrought evil; I marveled dully that,so much ill could be rooted in hope of
good. I thought that Molaster was gone from my life, and that I was one
who was lost and drifting on a tide I could not breast. Perhaps I had
believed too much in myself and my own powers, and this was my
punishment. I stood in the camp among the dead, the enemy and my own
little ones. And I looked about me, knowing that all this had sprung in
part from my own acts, for which I must be the first to answer. Perhaps it
is true, as some argue, that we are but the play pieces of great forces and
are moved hither and thither for purpose not of our reckoning, certainly
not of our desires. But, though such a belief is quieting to one's heart,
putting aside guilt, yet it is not to be held by one who has known the
discipline of a Singer. Thus did I refuse it now.

    My spirit wept for my little people, and for Malec, though I knew that
the White Road is not to be regretted for those we hold in close fellowship,
It is sometimes far harder to remain in this life than to pass through the
gate and into the way which leads elsewhere. We cannot allow ourselves to
mourn for those who are gone; they have but discarded the old dress to
put on a new.

   So, too, for my little people. But those who still suffered, ah, for them
did I also feel pain, fever, misery. And for another must I also bear the
burden of life—he who had fled from the camp with such a threat riding
him as to drive any man to death. Him I must find, if I could, for to him
was I deeply in debt.
   Also did I suspect that which was even worse, that my inner desires had
willed just such an ending. And, if such powerful wishes be beamed, then
they influence action to come. Although I had not sung this into being,
could I be sure that I had not unconsciously twisted the future to serve my
heart's longing? I knew that I had one escape to offer the man who had
been Krip Vorlund from off-world, and, if he agreed, then—

  I spoke to my little people soothingly, telling them what must be done.
And I sang over my rod of office, though it was still day and not night, for I
could not wait for dark. Then I set out food and drink for those who had
been my companions for so long. Afterward I sat beside Simmle, telling
her where I must go and why. The first streamers of sunset were in the sky
when I went into the wilderness.

   Had it not been for the power of my wand, I would not have kept to the
trail. But when Krip Vorlund had entered into Jorth's body, the rod had
wrought it, and it would seek him out for me as long as he walked the
earth of Yiktor. I carried with me a shoulder sack of supplies, for I did not
know how long I must journey, though a feeling in me said it could not be
far.

   Deliberately I refrained from trying to reach him by thought. Either he
would shut his mind tight against me now, or else such a sending might
distract him in a moment when he needed all his cunning for his own
salvation. This much I knew—he had not run blindly away from the truth,
but rather he had gone to seek battle. It might well be that he did not
mean to survive such an encounter.

   We have always known that when we take on the forms of the little
people, we also take on a measure of their natures. And when a man was
in the state of mind Krip Vorlund was, he would react to the most savage
in his new form. Of all the animals the barsk was the most cunning,
intelligent, and fierce, those three qualities having kept its species so long
apart from all other life on Yiktor. Only because the beast had been so
disordered by its treatment had I been able to work with it before the
coming of Krip Vorlund to my upland camp.

   Thus I could believe that the creature I now sought was for a time a
savage hunter. And whomever it trailed must be some fugitive from
Osokun's band. Osokun's body had not been found with the slain, perhaps
he was the bait now. And with him, how many others? I had not known
the number of raiders. While all we had surprised in camp were now dead,
there could be more.

   On toward the borders of Oskold's holding that trail led. Night came
and with it the moon, which is ever favorable to the Thassa. Now I
sang—not words to draw power from about me, but an inner questioning
that kept the rod steadily pointing. And I did not tire, for through the rod
flowed what fed by spirit.

   When one sings one does not think, except for the purpose of shaping
the notes. So I went with only one need in me—to find him who had been
lost. For if Molaster favored me in even a very, very small way, there might
yet come good from all this pain and ill.

  The ground was rising, though all about me was in shadow. No longer
was I fully of the world of which it was a stable part. Moon and shadow
warred, first one and then the other seizing a strip of ground. I went
swiftly, for the taking of one step and then the other does not matter to
one who walks by song and rod.

  Thus I came in the gray of dawn into a valley where death was a rank
odor in the air, a feeling to daunt the spirit. I saw the bodies of three men.
Two I had not looked upon before to my remembrance, but the third was
Osokun. And as I approached where he lay on a rude stretcher as if he had
been so borne to this place, I saw him whose need had drawn me here.

   I thought-quested, believing that I might find the silence of body death.
But, no! Flickering, yes, but still trapped was the spirit! By so little was I in
time.

   Thrusting my rod into the stained soil, I gave a flash of thanks to
Molaster, and then set about looking for wounds on that red fur, so close
to the color of the blood I feared to see.

   There was only one which mattered. Driven deep was a short
belt-sword which still stood in the wound. I began to work as I never had
before. With my little ones the need had been rooted in love and pity, but
now I must save a spirit, lest the last chance for either of us be lost. And I
fought off death with my two hands, my knowledge, and the power of
song.

  We do not usually fight death to the last barricade. It is not meet
among the Thassa to be so jealous of another's freedom as to deny him
admittance to the White Road when he is already a step or two along it.
To draw back the wayfarer is to blight his future. But this was a matter
which was not for the Thassa to decide. And I have yet to find another
race which shares our acceptance of the Great Law in the same way. To
some species, I know, death was total extinction by their belief, and so
they regarded it with horror which darkened most of their lives. I did not
know how Krip Vorlund looked upon death. But I believed that he had a
right to make his choice, was he to be numbered among those who saw
death as an enemy rather than a gate. Thus I wrought as I would not have
for one of my own.

   The spirit was in him, but how long it would remain, or I could hold it,
I dared not guess. In the hours of early morning I sang again, this time
aloud, and drawing upon all the power I could summon. And under my
hand that faintly beating heart grew, so I dared to believe, a thread more
strong. Finally I picked up that limp body. It was lighter than I had feared,
and I felt the bones under the skin, as if for a long time Jorth had been on
short rations.

   Back we went through the hills and all that way I sang, and held, and
sang, fighting the battle to keep the one I held to the ways of earth. When
we came to the camp, I found my little ones glad to see me, breaking in
upon my concentration with their cries, their thoughts. I laid Jorth down
beside Simmle. She still lived, which I had not thought possible. I tended
her wound again, but looking upon it I knew that life such as would be left
to her would not be enough.

    Then I took her head between my two hands as we had often sat. And I
asked her the Question. For a long moment we sat so, and then she gave
me the Answer. Around us the rest of the company whimpered and cried a
little. For the little ones are not Thassa, and it takes great courage for
them to make such an Answer, their belief not being ours.

   Now I made memories for Simmle, all the best ones, and let her wander
in them, while all the pain of her body was gone. And she was happy and
content. When she was most happy and content I gave release according
to the Answer. But in me a sword was thrust, for memory is sour as well as
sweet, and this one added more to my burden.

   I wrapped the husk of Simmle, the part which was no longer of any
matter to us, certainly not to her who was free. And I put it among the
rocks. Jorth slept deep in that place where, if there was to be any healing,
it could begin. And of the others none were so hurt they would not mend.

   Then I looked about the camp, knowing that I must be off to find what
assistance I could, and that speedily. For where Osokun had come others
might follow. Having broken my fast and that of my little people, I fell to
the labor of preparing to move out.

   One of the vans I must abandon and from that I brought what was
most needed. Those who had despoiled our belongings had taken much,
but I loaded in what was left of food and healing supplies. My little
peoples' cages I set in two of the vans, making comfortable those riding in
them. I put Jorth on an open pad of mats just behind the seat in the first
of the vans. Then I ordered the kasi to move out, one van following the
other, for those behind needed no driver; they would come in my wake.

    The sun was paler, for the season was close to winter. To each part of
the year its own magic. Some judge autumn a time for sorrow, for so
much which is alive in the warmth seems then to die and vanish from the
earth, and the coming of winter is dreaded. But each season has its own
life and energies, and none can say that this or that one is not good
because it fails in comparison in some parts with the others.

   To the Thassa winter is a time of rest, of gathering in—both physically
in clan groups and inwardly in spirit, a time of judgment and study. And
this year I, Maelen, might face the justice of my race in a way not known
for generations. But, though autumn faded, it was not yet gone from the
land. And though the life spark in Jorth was faint, still it continued to
abide.

  Twice I saw mounted men ride in bands far off. But if my small train of
wagons excited any comment among them, they did not seek me out.
Perhaps it was better that we went our way openly by day, for the Thassa
were always strange to the plainsmen and known to be wanderers.
Whereas a journey by night would have aroused their suspicion.

   The kasi, having had a long rest in camp and being well fed and
watered, were good for many hours of slow but steady moving, and I
intended to press on past the usual limits of a day's journey. I would have
to, for time was not my friend but a threatening enemy.

   We paused from time to time that I might visit my little people and
look to those who were hurt. What I missed most now was Simmle's
presence beside me. She had been more to me than any of the others—
because we were linked by that old exchange, having once been paired
body to body, mind to mind. For that relationship there are no real words
to explain. To me there would never be another like unto her. If I had been
the one to go before, she would have felt the same emptiness.

   I wondered, whenever I turned to look upon Jorth, whether, if his body
would be his once again and the barsk spirit returned to its rightful
envelope, this off-worlder would find himself united to other life forms in a
fashion such as no one of his race or species ever had been before.

  We moved on, back up along the Valley trail.

   Now I thought of the Old Ones. What had come of the message Malec
and I had sent from Yrjar? It had never been answered, he had told me
that. There would come a time, which I could not and would not escape,
when I must go before the assembly and speak of all I had done, give the
reasons thereto. But I did not believe I had an excuse they would deem
strong enough to stand against the weight of their anger.

    I shut out such musings from my mind, for dark thinking attracts only
ill fortune. Instead I built what I could for good by singing, choosing a
growing song, as growing is close-kin to healing and what may root one is
also part of the other. As the kasi pulled steadily toward Yim-Sin, I sang
for both Jorth and my little people. In such singing all energy is bound
into a single will-wish and all else slips away, as is needful.

   On we rolled. Night came and I saw in the dark the glow of fire against
the sky, marking some violence of man to man. Oskold's land lay behind
the hills; we were now in the plains. Either he had carried war against the
invaders, or the first quarrel had spread, involving many more. And I
thought of the rumors I had heard in Yrjar that off-worlders meddled in
the wrangling of lords, and that the Lydis had really gone off-world to
escape some danger here.

   In times of war among the plainsmen, the Thassa follow ever the old
rule, drawing back into the high country and the safe places. So I thought
other wagons would be moving through this night. But I did not try to use
mind-touch to learn if that were so. I sang, nursing a small flicker of life,
healing where healing was needful.

  Perhaps because we moved under the Moon of Three Rings the singing
held more power than ever before. I knew this was true as I turned on my
seat and used the rod, drawing in the air above the skin-and-bones body
of the barsk, sending strokes up and down without touching hide or hair,
changing all power into one use. My wrist grew tired, my mouth dry, my
throat sore.

   I put aside the rod and leaned over. What had been a flicker of life now
held steady. I was too tired to give thanks, save wordlessly, but now I knew
that this lost one would live. And with returning life must surely come
acceptance of what I had to offer.

   We paused beside the turn into the main road to Yim-Sin. I loosed
those of my little people who wished to be free and tended the rest. Borba
came to me with a message that brought me into the road.

   My nose could not pick up the story written there for most of my
company. But there was no hiding from the eye that a large mounted
party had passed this way. And, while I cannot use my nose to advantage,
I can pick other subtleties from the air. Peril and anger had ridden this
way and not long before us. To go on would be to face danger.

   Yet I had no choice. What did these others hunt ahead? All men knew
that this road led only to the Valley, and that was a place to be shunned,
save for those whom fate had sent. I could not believe any raiders would
voluntarily take this way.

   There was only one reason, which hinted at such recklessness and
disregard for custom as to suggest madness among the men who chose it.
The Valley had two entrances: one from the west, which was the road
where we now stood, another from the east, where a trail came through
Oskold's land. Had some one of his enemies, moved by insane hatred,
decided to lead his men into the Valley and hence again down that other
road, striking so into the heart of Oskold's territory?

   For a leader so to outrage custom was almost unbelievable. Yet in time
of war madness, much is done which afterward wondering men look back
upon, unable to believe that such was so. Men driven by an unbridled
desire to triumph over their enemies are released into a kind of callosity to
do whatever they are moved by happenstance along the way.

   I thought of the peace of Umphra and those who had guarded it for
years upon untold years, and how they would not believe anyone would
trouble them. They would be as insects under the sole of some unheeding
giant's boot.

   But what I suspected might not be so. And I had no other road. So I
tended my company, and we rested until moonrise. This night I needed
the moon, it was a draft to lift my spirit, to provide me with energy.

   It came, unveiled by any clouds. But the moon was not too bright to
hide the splotch of fire above. I looked at that, my lower lip caught
between my teeth. For I believed it spurted forth at Yim-Sin. And such red
flowering comes only from the plant of war. That which I feared must
surely be!

   I put the kasi back into harness and took to the road. On its smooth
surface we made better time. Time for what?To run into the red ruin of
the sacking of Yim-Sin by crazed men? I had my own kind of weapons, but
they were not for such battles.

    To turn aside from this road would shortly be easy enough. There was a
certain point ahead from which I could reach the high country and safety.
If all Yiktor had gone mad—then it would be well for those still sane to
gather together and keep in safety, letting the rest destroy themselves.

   Behind me I heard what my ears had been waiting to report—a sound
of feeble movement on the mats. I looked down. His eyes were open, but as
yet no sign of intelligence sparked with them. A small new fear pricked
me—had Jorth indeed won and the man been done to nothingness? This
had sometimes occurred, though it was rare, when a man could not
withstand the stress of beast nature.

  I used mind-call. "Krip Vorlund!"

  I made that as sharp as a summons to arms, with all the skill of such
communication that I possessed.

   Still those eyes were dull, naught dwelt within them. It was almost as if
I now looked at the barsk I had taken from Othelm, an animal so deeply
sunk in misery that it had withdrawn from life.

  "Krip Vorlund!" Once more I forced that summons into his mind.

  His head moved, as if he were trying to avoid some blow. Truly he had
retreated, his mind now almost as far from me as his vital force had
earlier been.

   "Krip Vorlund!" I raised the rod, caught the moonlight on its length,
guided that down to strike upon the head of the barsk.

   Out of him came a cry of pain and terror, a wailing such as I had never
heard from any animal. And my little people answered him in their own
ways. He was trying to pull himself up. But I put my hand on his
shoulders, being careful not to touch near his wound, and with the weight
of that kept him lying flat.

   "You are Krip Vorlund." I made of each of those words a crossbow bolt,
shooting them into his minds, setting them so firmly they could not be
dislodged. "You are a man—a man!"

   He was looking at me now, with a beast's eyes right enough, but there
was a difference in them. He did not try to answer; left alone he would
retreat again. I could not allow that, for I might not be able to draw him
into life a second time.

    "A man," I repeated. "And while a man lives, lives also the future. I
swear to you—" I put the blazing rod between us and saw his gaze go from
me to it and then back again, "I swear to you by the power which rests in
this—and for me that is an oath binding past either life or death—that all
is not yet lost!"

  Was he alert enough to accept those words, understand them, and,
understanding them, would he believe?

   I could do no more in this time and place, the remainder rested solely
with him. And what did I know of what moved this off-worlder and would
set him on this road or that?

   For a long, long moment I feared I had lost, that he understood but
rejected belief.

  "What remains—?"

  His mind-speech was very faint; I could hardly catch it.

  "Everything!" I hastened to hold, strengthen our contact.
   "And what is everything?"

  "For a space a new body—a man's body. So housed you can make your
way unchallenged into Yrjar. Then you can either follow your ship into
space or find a way to summon it back for you." Would he accept this?

   "What body?"

  This much encouraged me, his mind-touch was growing stronger. He
was no longer rejecting contact with me as he had at first.

   "One awaiting us—"

   "Where?"

   "In the hills." I hoped that I spoke the truth. I must believe that I spoke
the truth or all was lost. He stared into my eyes.

   "I think—you mean—this—" Again his contact weakened, but not this
time by will; rather his body was failing him.

   "I do. But you are sore hurt, you must sleep."

   More than by my reassurance, I thought he was then ruled by
weakness, the need for putting aside any decision or immediate action. He
rested his head once more on the mat and closed his eyes as the van
trundled on. He slept.

   But for me there was no sleep. I could not take into danger with me
those other small lives far linked to mine. Once I had used them, or rather
accepted their assistance. Those left must be made safe. I would not look
upon another Simmle. When we reached the turn-off into high country,
we would come to a parting of the ways. I could set a pattern in kasi
minds which would keep them moving at their own speed for a day or two.
Then—well—if no Thassa picked up the distress signal I would also loose,
they could take to the wilds and a measure of safety. It was the best I could
do for them now.

   All followed as I had planned. I remained in the light van and sent the
other two off by a pattern I impressed on the draft kasi. That would fade
in a matter of hour's, but the other small device I had triggered would
keep them wandering in the general direction of the high country and
would alert any Thassa to their aid. They were in their cages, but those
were not latched and I left food and drink available.

   I watched the vans out of sight and then I returned to my own seat.
Jorth still lay in deep sleep. The two kasi pulling us were the best of our
company, suited to hard going. I looked up at that fire glow. It was
dimmer and there was light in the east. We would move on into the dawn
of another day, into what peril, I did not try to guess.


                                   XVI
   Like all the Thassa, I have ever loved the heights above the plains,
where sometimes the breath clogs in the throat and there is such a dust of
both country and man as to thicken the mind and slow thought. I do not
know from whence my race came. The past stretches long and long, and is
far lost in misty beginnings. Sometimes at in-gatherings we speak idly of
this, speculating about this and that. It has been said among us that we
are perhaps not even of Yiktor, but born of another world, in our time as
new to this planet as the off-worlder riding with me. But if that is so, our
coming is now so far behind us that not even any faint legend remains.

   While we were still dwellers under roofs, our cities were of the
mountains not of the plains, and that is why we made no difficulties over
land when the plains dwellers came overseas to settle here. For they sought
the lowlands as we the high places.

   Now as the van climbed toward Yim-Sin, almost insensibly my heart
grew a little lighter, as must any wanderer's coming into a land which
welcomes him. Yet this time fear also rode with me. Had Simmle still
shared my life, she could have scouted ahead, being my warning eyes and
ears.

   The sun climbed, but was much hidden by the peaks of the hills and we
had neither its full light nor its warmth. I ate and drank as we went, but I
no longer sang. For in me the power was much lowered by all the calls I
had made upon it during these past few hours, and there might be need
ahead for a weapon of some force. The signs of the troop which had
preceded us could still be read.

   Along the curves of the hills were the terraced vineyards, the leaves on
the vines withered and purplish, proving the harvest well past its peak.
   Down from the crest land came no good wind to rustle through them,
rather one carrying the reek of burning. I no longer doubted what was to
be found at Yim-Sin.

    The smoke still coiled lazily from some heaps of ashes; and from places
where the harvest had been stored came oily clouds. I wet a scarf and tied
it about nose and throat, but my eyes smarted.

   Umphra's temple alone stood unfired. But the great gate hung askew
from its hinges and on it were marks of a battering ram. I stopped the van
to listen. Very faintly from out of that inner court I heard a muffled plaint,
not loud enough for true crying. About me I did not look too closely. Death
had walked here and not as a friend. I climbed down from the van and
went into that place beyond the broken gate.

   It was plain what had happened. Yim-Sin had been taken by surprise,
but a handful of her people had managed to reach here, hoping for a
sanctuary not to be theirs. I searched for life, for the crying had stopped.
And I found It in a child whom I took up in my arms, one who looked upon
me vacantly and neither shrank from nor invited my hold.

  Bestowing her in the van apart from Jorth, lest intelligence return to
her and she be frightened by such a companion, I went again into
Umphra's temple.

   Senseless had been the slaying and destruction, as if those who had
wrought it had been only shells of man with far worse than any human
spirit within those shells. But that is how man can be when he thrusts
aside all controls upon the kernels of cruelty and evil which dwell within
him. I am a Singer, and to win my power I faced many dire trials and
tests. I am of the Thassa, a people now pledged to a form of peace. What I
saw that day in Yim-Sin was beyond all experience, and I came forth sick
and shaking, unable to believe that this had been wrought by any who
were still to be termed men.

   If Yim-Sin had fared so, then what had happened in the Valley? But the
Valley had safeguards, intended to protect, even from themselves, those
who dwelt there. Would those safeguards have turned outward to save
them from this?

  I went back to the van and gave orders to the kasi. Then I took into my
arms the girl-child I had found still alive, and to her I sang a small song to
give her sleep for a time and open the deep place within her as refuge for
her terrified spirit. When I laid her back within the van, Jorth raised his
head and looked at us.

  "What has happened?"

  I gave him the truth of what I had found here and told him that death
might now run before us.

  "Why? Who?"

  "Neither can I tell you. My only guess is that some enemy would come
upon Oskold by way of the Valley."

  "But I thought that the Valley, its roads, was sacred, untouchable."

  "In war the gods are forgotten or outraged. It is often so."

   "But would the plainsmen do such a thing just for a chance at a sneak
attack upon one lord?" he persisted.

   "I have thought that also, but I have no answer. There were fires out on
the plains last night. I can only believe that this is not merely an invasion
of Oskold's land but a conflict which has spread far more widely, perhaps
already laps with fire and blood across the whole land. For what I have
seen here there is not sane reason. Outlaws might act so, but there is no
outlawed band large enough to take a town—and with Osokun and his
men dead, who are the outlaws?"

  "But we go on—to the Valley?"

   "I have sworn to you an oath," I replied wearily. "What I can do to
restore to you something of what has been taken, that I shall do. And the
answer is in the Valley."

  "You propose to give me Maquad's body?"

   I was not surprised at his words. He was not stupid, and the fitting of
one thing to another to make the right sum was not difficult. "Yes, if you
agree, Maquad's body. In that you can go to Yrjar, I with you. We can tell
your tale, your ship may be signaled, they will return."

  "Many it's in that," he commented. "Tell me, Maelen, why should you
give me Maquad's body?"

  "Because," I said dully, "it is the only one possible."

  "No other reason? Not that you wish Maquad to live again?"

   "Maquad is gone. Only that which held him has life still—after a dim
fashion."

  "Then you separate man from body, you Thassa." I did not know just
what he was trying to say.

  "You are Krip Vorlund," I returned. "Do you feel yourself less Krip
Vorlund because you now dwell in another outer casing?"

   He was silent, considering this. I hoped it was the right answer to
direct his thinking. If he believed the body did not matter as much as that
which was within it, then the exchange would not be so hard for him.

  "Then to you, your people, it does not really matter what body you
wear?"

    "Of course it matters! I would be one lacking in wits to declare it
otherwise. But we believe that the inner part is far greater than the outer,
that it is our true identity; the other only clothing for the eyes and sense.
Maquad's outer casing still lives, but that which was Maquad is gone from
it and us. I can offer you his former dwelling place so that you can once
more be a man—"

  "A Thassa!" he corrected me.

  "And is that not the same?"

   "No!" his denial was sharp. "We are far different. As Jorth I have
learned that a residue of the original inhabitant, as you would say, still
dwells in this body and that it can influence me. Will it not be the same if I
try another switch? Will I not be Krip-Maquad rather than Krip Vorlund?"

  "Does barsk or man rule in Jorth?"

  "Man, I hope—now—" But his answer was a little hesitant.

  "Would not then Krip Vorlund be Krip Vorlund no matter what body he
dwells in?"

   "But you are not sure—"

  "Is anyone," I burst out then, "to be sure of anything in any world under
any sun?"

   "Except death."

   "Is death then a surety for you off-worlders? Do you believe that is just
an end and not a beginning?"

   "Who can tell?" he made answer. "Perhaps we can not demand any
unqualified reply to any question we are moved to ask. So, you offer me a
body more akin to my lost one. You say, take and go to Yrjar, tell your
story, and ask for the return of that which is yours. Yet it would seem that
we must deal not only with our own affairs, but with, a war lying between
us and Yrjar."

   "Think, Krip Vorlund, have I ever promised you that this would be an
easy thing?"

   "No," he agreed. "Nor can you either promise me a body—if those we
trail now have used the Valley as they used Yim-Sin."

   "The Valley has safeguards the village did not. It is able to protect those
who dwell there, and it may be there is a good defense against these
raiders as well. I have offered you the best I can, Krip Vorlund. No one,
man or Thassa, can do more than that."

   "Agreed, What will you do with this child?"

   "If the Valley is still intact, Umphra will care for her. If not, she goes
with us."

  For the first time, he appeared to note the loss of the rest of our
company, for he asked:

   "Where are the animals?"

   "I have sent them to where I hope my people will find them. If not, they
will be free to roam as they choose."
   Fora while he was silent, and then he said, "Both our lives have been
changed by that walk we took together in the fair of Yrjar. I would not
believe this story had I not lived it."

   "Stuff for the weaving of a legend," I agreed. "I have heard it said that if
you dig far enough into any old tale you will unwrap at least one small
kernel of one-time fact."

   "Maelen, what was Maquad to you?"

   I was off-guard and perhaps he had sensed that. The sudden shot
brought the truth from me.

   "He was the life companion of my sister by birth, Merlay. When—when
he went from us, I thought she might follow. She still turns her face from
the fullness of life."

  "Tell me, would that alliance be again in effect did Maquad return?"
His second demand was as sharp as the first.

   "No. You would wear Maquad's body, but you are not Maquad. Looking
upon you, however, she might be moved to accept the truth and awake
once more from dark to light." There it was, my poor frayed wish spoken
into words at last.

   "But would your people know I was not as I seemed?" He appeared not
to have heard the ending of my speech.

   I smiled wryly. "Do not think you can hide your true identity from any
Thassa, Krip Vorlund. They would know you at meeting. And, I must tell
you this also, they will not approve of what we would do. I defy all our
Standing Words when I give to you Maquad's dwelling, even for a short
space of time. They cannot prevent that act, but it is one I must answer for
in time to come."

   "Then why—?"

   "Why must I do it? Need you ask that, off-worlder?This tangle is of my
snarling, mine must be the unraveling. I am pledged by the strongest oath
of my people to see that you have all aid within my power. I cannot tell
why this has been so set upon me. But one bears the burdens sent by
Molaster, one does not question them."
   He asked me no more, and I was glad that he meditated upon his own
thoughts. For I was busy in my own mind. I had told him the exact truth.
He would wear Maquad's body and he would not be Maquad. But just as
the beast influences a little the human in-dweller, so would the shell of
Maquad influence him. And this off-worlder was sensitive with esper
power.

   Maquad had been a singer of the second degree. He had been searching
for knowledge to lead him higher when he was slain in four-footed guise.
The animal of his exchange had been young, not used before, and so it
lapsed after a period of violence into a cataleptic state which no
mind-send could reach. But the beast portion had not, could not, reach all
of the human brain, just as the human could not entirely possess the
animal. There was a residue left in Maquad, if not the same Maquad of his
memories, of more—Even the Old Ones do not know the full extent of
changes so wrought. In all our history there was never a case of a human's
return to a human or Thassa body not his own. Suppose, just suppose,
that in Maquad's body that residue would awake and influence— I could
not be sure, but even a part-Maquad might brighten Merlay's days for a
space, draw her back to us again!

   I stared out past the kasi and the road, and saw neither animals nor
way but only her face and the change which might come to it were
Maquad—or part-Maquad—to walk with her for a time! Although if what I
longed for did not come, still I would abide by my oath—we would ride to
Yrjar and try to change what might be unchangeable.

    Also I thought of the Valley and what might be happening there this
day. By all signs those who had finished Yim-Sin must have reached there
by now, and the time space between us lengthened as we climbed so
slowly. We passed the sections where sentries had once stood to ask the
business of wayfarers. There were no sentries and I did not pause to seek
them. I was not minded to hurry our ascent, to arrive while a battle might
still be in progress. The Valley safeguards would make no distinction
between friend or foe. And who knew—perhaps some measure of sanity
would return to the raiders aloft.

  The child slept and perhaps Krip Vorlund did' also, for he lay quiet, his
head pillowed on a forepaw. Nor did he speak to me again. We made a
nooning in the wilderness where only the road broke the land. There water
bubbled in a mountain stream and I loosed the kasi to graze and rest.
  "No sign yet?" The off-worlder asked when I brought him a bowl of
water.

   "None save they came this way. But who they are, or why they do
this—" I shook my head.

  "Your powers," he commented, "appear to have their limits."

  "As all do. You have mind-send. But do you also teleport or the like?"

   "No. There are those who can, but I have yet to meet one. Only I had
thought that the Thassa—"

   "Could perform stranger acts than that? Sometimes, but the site and
the time must fit the pattern. Given both I might beam-read and get a half
view of the future, or rather a future."

  "Why a future? Do futures change?"

   "They do, because they depend upon decisions, and does a man remain
always subject to the same thoughts, hour after hour, day after day? What
seems right and meaningful at this moment may not be so later. Therefore
the future in the broad sense, yes, that can be read. But our relation to the
future changes through our need to face this crisis or that. I could tell you
the fate of a nation, but not of the individual men of that nation."

  "But you might tell the fate of the Valley?"

   "Perhaps, given the right time, which I am not. For that is beyond my
grasping."

   "And soon we may learn for ourselves," he said. "When I first met you
in that dell—how long ago was it? I have since lost all numbering of days."

  I shook my head. "Days bearing numbers are not the concern of the
Thassa. Long ago we ceased to deal with such. We remember what has
chanced, but not this day or that."

  Had he been man at that moment, I think he might have laughed.

  "You are so right, Freesha! Enough has happened to me on Yiktor that
days have certainly ceased to count in number. But when I came to your
camp fresh from Osokun's fort, I thought I was caught up in some vivid
and unpleasant dream. And to that belief I am inclined to return now and
then. It would explain what has happened so much more easily than to
think that waking I have lived—am living— this."

   "I have heard that off-world there are methods of inducing such
dreams. Perhaps you have tried such and so are ready for such a belief.
But if you have been dreaming, Krip Vorlund, I am awake! Unless I am a
part of your dream—"

  He ate from my fingers the meat cake I crumbled, then drank from his
water bowl. The child stirred and moaned.

  "You put her to sleep." That was more statement than question.

  "Thus she could not remember, or fear."

   I took her up in my arms now and put to her lips a small cup wherein I
had mixed water and the juice of healing herbs. In her sleep she drank,
and then her head turned on my shoulder and she passed into deeper
slumber.

  "Maelen, are you wed? Do you have a child?"

   I thought suddenly, in all this strange adventure we were sharing
neither of us had asked such a question of the other, nor had we cared
what had passed before.

    "No. I am a Singer. While I sing, I have no life companion. What of you,
Krip Vorlund? I had heard that the Traders have families. Is it with you as
it is with the Singers, that you can be but one thing at a time?"

   "In a manner." He told me of the life of his people, wedded to many
stars and not one alone. They had life companions, but only when they had
reached a certain rank within their companies. Some times a planet
woman might accept Trader life for the sake of a man; but that a Trader
abandon his ship for any world because of a woman was unthinkable.

   "You are like unto the Thassa," I said. "For you, to be firmly rooted in
one place is to die. We sweep across the earth of Yiktor and her seas at our
will. We have certain places such as your space cities where we gather
when there is need. But for the rest—"
  "Gypsies."

  "What?" I asked.

   "A very ancient word. It means a people who live ever traveling. I think
there was a nation of such once, very long ago, and worlds away."

  "So the Thassa have their like across the void. I spoke once of a ship
and my little people, and the visiting of other worlds."

   "Such might still be done. But it would cost more tokens than lie even
within the temple treasury of Yrjar. And such a ship must be built on
another world after much study and experimentation. A dream indeed,
Maelen, for no one would have such treasure as to bring it to life."

  "What is treasure, Krip Vorlund?Does it not take different forms from
world to world?"

   "It is what is rare and valuable on each particular planet. Rarity plus
beauty in some cases, rarity plus usefulness in others. On Zacon it is
knowledge, for the Zacathans look upon learning as their treasure. Bring
to them an unknown artifact, a legend, something which hints at a new
sentence in the history of the galaxy, and you have brought them treasure.

    "Oh Sargol it is a small green herb, once common on forgotten Terra,
utterly irresistible to the Salarki, who would willingly exchange gems for
it. And those same stones on another planet—one no longer than the nail
of your smallest finger, Maelen—will allow a man to live as a lord of Yiktor
for five years or more. On Hasku it is feathers, sprokjan feathers. I can
recite you the list of treasures for a quarter of the galaxy, as they pass
through our warehouses."

   "So, to each world a treasure, and it varies so that what seems a fortune
on one planet will on another be worth nothing—or perhaps more?"

   He laughed inside his mind and even the barsk jaws fell apart in a faint
likeness to a smile.

   "Usually less rather than more. Gems—those are best, for gems and
things of beauty speak to more than one people and species as worth
taking and keeping safe."
   "This world wherein such a ship as would carry my little people might
be built, what manner of treasure do they there prize?"

   "All that is high wealth. They are an inner planet and the men there are
satiated with the best of a hundred worlds. What they have to sell, their
ships, draw all the treasures they will accept. It would have to be
something very rare, perhaps never seen before, or so large an amount of
trade credits as would wipe out the contents of half our warehouses."

   I laid down the sleeping child, making her comfortable, but setting a
barrier between her and the barsk again, so that if she woke she would not
see that animal. Then I brought the kasi back to their duty. Once more we
traveled the road. But I thought now and then of the nature of treasure
and how different worlds rated it. I knew what the off-worlders took off
Yiktor and I guessed such cargo passed as ordinary things. We had gems,
but they were not such rare objects that off-world traders struggled to buy
them. I decided that Yiktor might be termed, in the eyes of such experts, a
relatively poor planet.

  The Thassa did not, as the plainsman, try to gather portable wealth.
When we had more of any one thing than we needed, we left the surplus at
one of the ingatherings for those who lacked. Our beast shows brought us
many tokens, but we did not build up reserves from them. For we
considered them a form of training for both animal and Singer. They also
gave us more reason for a roving life.

  But to lay up any treasure and guard it—that is foreign to us. And if we
had done it in the past, before we left our cities, we had forgotten it.

   As we began once more our slow journey to the Valley, I asked of Krip
Vorlund, "What is your greatest treasure? Gems? Or some other rare
thing?"

  "Do you mean mine personally, or what is so regarded by my people?"

  "Both."

  "Then I shall answer you with one word, for with both me and my
people it is the same—a ship!"

  "And you gather naught else besides?"
   "What we gather, and it is as much as we can of the treasures others
want, it is only that we may finally spend all we have so garnered for a ship
of our own."

   "And how many of you ever achieve such?"

   "Perhaps as many as find lordships on Yiktor. The struggle is as hard,
though in another way."

   "You—do you believe you will ever have this treasure?"

   "No one willingly loses any dream, even when the point of being able to
realize it is past. A man, I think, continues to hope for good fortune until
he dies."

   We camped that night, but not for the whole space of darkness, only for
a few hours. I watched the moon rise, but I made no move to draw its
power— not then. One cannot store it too long, and to tap it and be forced
to loose it before using it to any advantage is a stupid waste. So I did not
raise my rod, nor did I sing outwardly or inwardly. All that I did was to aid
the kasi with thought power when and where I could.

   The moon hung low when we came to the lip of the descent into the
Valley. And, as was always true at nighttime, the mist covered thickly,
hiding whatever might lie below. From where I sat I could see no change,
no sign that any danger had passed this way. But my sight was very
limited.

   I heard the barsk stir, looked back to see he struggled to get to his feet.
I restrained him with an outflung hand.

   "We are above the Valley. Lie you still, rest while you may."

   "You are going down?"

    "I shall take precautions." I brought out my rod. The moon was not at
its height, but it was there. I began a deep song, an inward chant, and the
kasi started down into the Valley.


                        KRIP VORLUND
                             XVII
   When I first awoke and knew that I was still alive, tended by Maelen
and once more in the Thassa van, it seemed that the dream in which I had
been caught had come full circle. There was an acceptance in me, the kind
with which one faces incongruities met in a nightmare, wherein nothing
surprises. But I came to learn during the following hours that this Maelen
was one I had not met before. I now saw Maelen not unsure, but rather as
one to whom duty had become the lead star of life. And, in spite of my own
need to know what must be faced, I could never press past certain
boundaries she held.

   As we descended into the mist-cloaked Valley, she kept the van to the
exact center of the road. I read in her mind that those precautions or
defenses which she had spoken of could well be our undoing even though
we came in peace. That they had been the bane of those we trailed was a
hope we shared.

   Another worry nagged at me. Though my mind was alert, yet the body
housing it was weak and would not obey my commands. Were we to be
attacked I could offer nothing, not even in my own defense. I could lift my
head, stretch my legs as I lay upon the mat. But if I drew a deep breath
pain followed and there was a languor, which came and went, to disturb
me. Maelen had healing powers, that I knew, but would they succeed with
the wound in my breast—? There was good reason to believe that Osokun's
blade had bitten too deep, and that survival in my present body did not
mean recovery.

   I had gone to seek death when I had trailed Osokun and his
sword-sworn, the shock of the news Maelen brought from Yrjar sending
me into that temporary madness. But there is planted, at least in my own
species, a stubborn resistance to the end of existence. And now a small
measure of hope bulwarked what spirit I had. The alternative Maelen
suggested had possibilities. Equipped with a Thassa body, I could indeed
return to Yrjar. The Traders shared a consular representative on the
planet; I had met him when the Lydis landed. I could go to Prydo Alcey,
state my case, let him send a message to Captain Foss. It ought to be easy
to frame some message such as only Krip Vorlund could send to certify my
identity. Then, with my own body returned, another switch and I would be
truly myself.

   Of course there were many pitfalls between this present moment and
that to-be-wished-for result. And several might lie directly before us. I
tried to move, to lift my heavy head and loose-muscled body so that I
might see over the driver's seat. But I could accomplish nothing and lay
panting and weak, alarmed at my state.

   It was only when I lay so that I became aware that Maelen was engaged
in more than merely directing the kasi down the road. There was an aura
about her which tugged at mind—send powers. I was lying now so that I
could watch her profile, her half face stern and set. Her hair was not piled
in elaborate rolls as it had been at our first meeting, but bound about her
head smoothly as to form a silver helmet. And the arabesque of ruby and
silver which had then been on her forehead was gone. Now her eyes were
half closed, the lids well down as if her gaze turned inward, or on other
things than the sights of this world.

    But there was such a brightness on her face as to dazzle me a little. Was
it the moon against her very fair skin, or did some of it come from within,
the reflection of power stored there? Always before I had seen the human
in the Thassa; now she was more alien than any of the animals with whom
I had shared life and battle these past few days.

   "Taking precautions," she had called this. "Arming" was the name I
would set upon it. I dropped my heavy head. I could no longer see her; yet
the consciousness of her, how she sat, what she did, was so with me that it
was as if I continued to watch her.

   There grew up about us a new sensation as the van rumbled on—a kind
of warning. It was as if some scout on a distant hill waved away our
advance. As we did not heed that warning the uneasiness grew sharper,
feeding into the mind a shadow of foreboding which became steadily
blacker. Whether this was one of the defenses of the Valley, I could not tell.
But apparently it did not affect Maelen, or swerve her from our advance.

   I heard the child stir uneasily beyond the blanket, making small sounds
of distress. But whether she slept and dreamed ill dreams, or waked to
find them reality, I did not know. For I was ridden now by my own
distresses. Lassitude in me was growing. At moments it was clear where I
was and what was about me, at other times I swung out into a void of
nothingness where the resulting giddiness frightened what sense I had left.
And I could not tell whether the mists which fuzzed my sight when I tried
to fasten on some part of the van were of the real world or born of my
increasing weakness.
    The journey was endless. Time vanished, or rather the measurement of
it did. I lay in the van and heard the whimpering of the child— I was
gone—as if— rested on a shuttle racing back and forth weaving a future
which eluded me.

    Around, the air throbbed and beat—in time to the swing of the shuttle
which bore me? No, this was a pulsation which broke that rhythm,
anchored me in the van. Then I heard a sound which was part of that beat,
a chant, I thought. It did not come from Maelen, but from the Valley, and
it grew louder with every forward step of the kasi.

  Oddly enough that beat of sound, of power, strengthened me as if it
poured back into my slack body the essence which had ebbed since
Osokun's knife had sought my life. I lay, feeling that wash into me. Some
ebbed again, yes, but each receding wave left a residue behind to hearten
me. I was no longer only holding on grimly to what life I had, I was once
more able to think beyond my body and my own concerns.

   Once more I struggled up and looked at Maelen. Her head was thrown
back now, her hands raised before her. Between her two palms, pressed
together, was her wand. It seemed to spin, throwing off sparks of silver
which struck her head and breast and then vanished. And she was
singing—not like the chant which still filled the air, but very high and
sweet, notes which pulled at me.

   Somehow I braced my forepaws hard against the floor of the van, and
managed to raise myself. Now my eyes were level with the seat on which
she sat. I glimpsed the world below; it was still night, or very early
morning. The moon was no longer bright, but ahead, down, there were
other lights to be seen.

   That was not the yellow-red of fires, nor the blue shade of the lamps I
had seen in Yrjar. Rather these were moon globes as Maelen carried, only
they were not fixed but moved about as might lanterns.

  And it was from that place of lights that the chanting arose, stronger
and deeper. I dragged myself farther up until, it spite of the pain it cost
me, I could place one foreleg across the seat, resting my head upon it.
Maelen did not notice me, she was still wrapped in her singing.

  Two men carrying moon globes came to meet us. I saw the
white-and-yellow-patterned black robes of priests. But they did not greet
Maelen or try to halt us, only stood aside one to right, one to left, and were
silent as we passed between. Their faces remained impassive and they
continued to chant words I did not understand.

   We passed more of the priests of Umphra engaged in tasks along the
road. I sniffed the stench of burning, and beneath that barsk nostrils
picked up also the reek of blood. No, the Valley had not escaped the doom
which had come to Yim-Sin. Yet I believed the doom had not been as
complete here as it had been in the village.

   The kasi turned without any outward sign of control from Maelen and
we went through the gates. The portal which had hung there was
splintered and scored, and in it bristled bolts from crossbows. The mist
was now the smoke of destruction. We entered the first temple courtyard.

   For the first time Maelen moved, raised the wand until its brilliant
shaft pressed against her forehead. The light which had spun from it was
gone and, as she dropped her hands once again, it was a simple rod. Her
eyes opened.

   A priest came to us. There was a bandage about his head, and he
carried his right arm in a sling.

  "Orkamor?" Maelen asked him.

  "He sees to his people, Freesha."

   She nodded gravely. "Evil has been wrought here. How great that evil,
brother?"

   "Much that was long and long in building has been broken." His voice
was somber, his face drawn, with the deep-set eyes of a man who has been
forced to witness the destruction of what had been very much a part of
him. "But the foundations have not been destroyed."

  "And who did this? They did worse in Yim-Sin."

  "That they told us. As to who they were—men who have fallen under a
darkness grown from seed brought from elsewhere. They have not,
however, prospered in their wickedness."

  "They are destroyed?"
  "They destroyed themselves. For they did not heed the safeguards. Only,
behind them they have left ruin."

   "Those—those whom Umphra holds under his cloak—" she began,
almost timidly. "How fare those, elder brother?"

  "Him you hold in your heart-hand, Freesha, survives . Others—some
Umphra has at last loosed upon the White Road."

   She sighed. Her wand lay across her knees, her hands rubbed her
forehead.

   So Maquad was still alive; I clung to that much. My lassitude was
creeping back. I could not find it in me to care greatly that her plan had
not been swallowed after all. The pain in my breast gave me a sharp
twinge, and I slipped from my half sprawl across the seat to huddle on the
mat once again. It was as if my last small reserve of strength left me.

   Light—shining into my face so that it smarted through the small slits
between my nearly closed eyelids… I tried to turn my head away from that
light, but I was held to it and I breathed in vapor which was sharply
aromatic, clearing my head. I opened my eyes and found that I now lay in
a room and Maelen bent over me, a bowl in her hand holding a golden
liquid. From this rose the fumes which had summoned me back.

   With her was another, and that old, benign face I knew. Once, a very
long time ago, we had sat in a quiet garden and talked of life beyond the
star which was Yiktor's sun, of how men carried out their destinies in
many strange places. This was Orkamor, servant of Umphra. I tried to say
his name.

   "Younger brother"—his words formed in my mind— "is this your wish,
truly your wish, to put off the body you now wear for another?"

  Words—words—but, yes, that was my wish, of course it was! I was a
man—a man! I claimed a man's body. And that rose in me as no mere
desire, but as a demand which was centered with all the strength I could
now summon.

  "Be it as you will, then, sister, brother—"

  Orkamor receded from my vision as if he floated away. Once more
Maelen leaned above me, holding the bowl that its reviving fumes might
clear my brain.

   "Say this, Krip Vorlund, word for word: 'I wish this by the power, to put
aside fur and fang, to walk again as a man!'"

   "I wish—this—by—by—the power, to put aside—fur and fang—to
walk—to walk again as—a man!" Triumphantly I finished that plea,
wishing I could shout it aloud from some mountain top for all the world to
hear.

  "Drink!"

   She held yet closer the bowl of aromatic liquid. I lapped at its contents
eagerly. It was as cool water from a mountain stream. I had not realized
how I thirsted until I swallowed. It was good—good— I drank until the
bowl was emptied, until my tongue found no lingering drop.

   "Now—" She put aside the bowl to bring forward one of the moon
globes. And though the room had seemed light to me, yet did that lamp
make it brighter.

  "Look into this," she bade me. "Loose, look and loose—"

   Loose? Loose what? But I set my eyes upon the globe. It was a world of
silver such as one might see rise up on the visa-screen of the Lydis as she
made planet-fall in a new system—a silver world reaching out—drawing
one…

    Who wanders on silver worlds, and what do they see there? Out of some
depth that thought came to me. But this was waking not dreaming. Yet
still I would not open my eyes to see, for there was a difference now and
some wary part of me wished to explore that difference slowly.

   I drew in a deep breath, waiting for my nose, for the barsk senses to tell
me all they could. But it was as if those senses had been deadened,
shriveled. There were scents, yes, the perfume of some growing thing, and
others, but all weak compared to those I had known.

   As yet I had not tried to move. But when I had breathed so deeply, that
pain which had become so much a part of me—it was gone! Now I opened
my eyes. But—distortion! Colors were less sharp in some ways, stridently
screaming in others. I blinked, trying to make my surroundings return to
normal. But they did not. It required effort to focus, to make my eyes once
more my obedient servants. Once—once before this had happened—
Memory stirred in me.

   I stared ahead. There was a wide surface, a wall, and in it a window.
Beyond that branches waved in the pull of the wind. My mind readily
supplied names for all of these, recognized what my eyes reported, even
though they saw everything differently. I opened my mouth, tried to lick
sharp fangs with my tongue. But the tongue which moved there was not
long, it swept across teeth—these were not the tearing implements of a
barsk.

  My—my paws? I ordered a foreleg into my range of vision, somehow not
daring yet to raise my head. There was an arm moving slowly upward for
me to see—a hand—fingers which curled when I ordered—

  Arm—hand—? I was not a barsk—I was—a man!

   Abruptly I sat up and the room, still somewhat distorted in my sight,
swung giddily. And I was alone within it. But I raised human hands, two of
them, to stare upon and I looked down at a human body! The flesh was
pale, so pale it made me a little uncomfortable to look upon it. That was
not right—I should be brown, very brown. I huddled on the edge of the bed
where I had lain, looked searchingly at the length of my new body, at its
pallor, the thinness which was close to emaciation.

   Then I dared to raise my hands, to explore by touch my face. It was
human right enough, though by touch alone I could not estimate its
difference from the Krip Vorlund who had been kidnaped from the Yrjar
fair. I wanted a mirror. I must see!

   Stumbling a little, for it was a strain to walk erect once more after
running for so long on all fours, I got to my feet. I inched one of those bare
feet forward in a step, my hands out to balance me as I teetered from one
foot to the other. But as I reached the window and then turned, my
confidence in such a method of progression returned. It was as if I revived
an old skill forgotten for a space. I looked about for the furred body which
was Jorth, but it was gone—nor did I ever see it again.

  The room was very small, the bed occupying much of its area. There
was a door in the opposite wall and a coffer which also served as a table,
judging by the cup and flagon set out upon its lid. From the window the
wind swept in cool enough to send me shivering, and I tottered back to the
bed to pull its upper covering off to wrap about me. I still longed to see my
face. Judging by my body I was Thassa— Maquad—

  But to my surprise I found in me some regrets for those senses which
had served Jorth so well, but which were barsk. It would appear that the
Thassa had limitations which matched those of my original self.

  With the bedcover as a cloak about me I went to the coffer, thirst
moving me to investigate the cup there. It was empty, but the flagon
which shared its tray was not and I poured slowly the golden liquid.

   That was cool, satisfying, and in my body spread a new sense of
well-being, of unity with this new habitation. I heard a low cough and
looked up at the priest with the bandaged head, whom I had last seen as
he greeted Maelen. He inclined his head and crossed over to lay his burden
on the bed, clothing, gray with touches of red, such as the Thassa favored.

   "The Eldest Brother would speak with you, brother, when you are
ready."

  I gave him thanks and began to dress, far more sure about my
movements now. When I had finished I guessed that I must look like
Malec.

   Malec! Another thrust of memory, and with it anger. Malec had
brought me out of the hell of that barsk in Yrjar—and what had been his
end? I had known so little of him, and I owed him so much.

   Although my new sword, and certainly no wand such as Maelen carried.
Yet in me was the desire for a weapon to fit my hand when I thought of
the killing of Malec.

   There was no mirror, I could not see the whole of the guise in which I
now walked. But when I went out of that room, I found one of the boy
priests waiting for me. He limped as he led the way, and in his face was
the same emptiness of shock and fatigue as had marked his superiors.
Also, in this place was still the smell of fire, though not as strong as Jorth
had scented it.

   We came into that same small garden where Orkamor had received me
once before. And again he sat in the tall chair of sprouting wood, though
the leaves on its now were sere and withered. There was a stool there, too,
and on it Maelen, her shoulders drooping, her eyes sunken and dull,
marking one who has expended a great effort to her own ill advantage. In
me was the impulse to go to her, take those listless, limply lying hands in
mine, and rouse her. Strange had she seemed to me in Yrjar when I had
seen her confident, and strange had she been during all our journeyings;
but now no longer. She seemed only as one who had claims upon me and
who was worn and tired. But she neither looked up nor welcomed me.

   Orkamor's eyes met mine, reaching in and in as if he meant to search
out every thought, no matter how deeply buried it lay in my brain. And
that searching was as keen as if he sought for a flaw he knew lay there.
Then he smiled and raised his hand, and I saw there was a great,
angry-looking bruise across its back, and one of his fingers was splintered
and stiffly bound. But the gesture he made was of welcome, and, more
than welcome, of happy surprise.

  "It is done, and done well."

   He did not speak aloud, and his words must have rung in Maelen's
brain also, for she stirred, her head coming up a little, turning slowly, her
eyes to rest upon me at last. I saw surprise and a kind of wonder in them,
which astonished me in turn. For if she had wrought this change for me,
why should the results amaze her?

  She spoke to Orkamor. "Is this well done, Eldest Brother?"

  "If you mean, sister, have you accomplished as you wished—yes, it is
well done. If you mean will it lead to more complications, then I cannot
answer you yes or no."

   "The answer"—if thought could be a whisper, then was hers now—"is
mine now. Well, what is done is done, and what must be done— With your
permission, Eldest Brother, we will ride forth to see the end of all this."

   Still she had not spoken to me, and now it was as if she did not want to
look at me again. For after that first measuring stare, she turned her head
away. I was curiously chilled, as if I had put out a hand in greeting, only to
have it refused, myself ignored. And yet I could not make any move to
draw her attention again.
   We went inside to find food and drink. Maelen ate as one who must fuel
an engine for running. And I did the same, discovering my body welcomed
what I gave it. But still she was behind a wall I could neither breech nor
climb.

   I judged it midday when we came out into the courtyard of the temple.
There was no sign of the van, but two riding kasi awaited us, journey
cloaks across their saddle pads, bundles of provisions hanging ready. I
would have aided Maelen to mount, but she was too quick for me, and I
went to my own kas. Could it be she shrank from any contact in aversion?

   We went through the devastation in the Valley. There were
fire-blackened ruins, other signs of the fury which had hit to cripple, but
not totally to destroy. Maelen pushed ahead along the road to Yim-Sin. It
was plain she was in desperate haste to fulfill the rest of her plan, to return
us both to Yrjar and resolve, as far as she could, the tangle fate had
snarled about us.

   Nor would she look at me during that upward climb, even touch
thought with me. Was it so revolting to her that I now wore the body of
one who had been closekin and who might be now deemed doubly dead? I
chafed at that. Nothing of what had happened to me had I asked for.

   But I had, memory responded. Twice I had asked through some Thassa
ritual for these changes. And twice perhaps they had saved me from death.
For the first time I wondered who would inhabit the body I now wore
when and if I finally regained my own. Would Maquad indeed die then,
totally and finally?

   Since the pace Maelen set took us much farther than the former speed
of the van, we were well out of the Valley before sunset. By sunrise we
might again see the ruins of Yim-Sin. Then across the plains to Yrjar—But
what was happening on those plains? And because I must look a little into
the future, I forced myself on my companion.

  "What could the servant of Umphra tell you about what might be
happening on the plains?"

   "Those who came from the west," she answered, "were strangers. It
seems there is a new enemy abroad in Yiktor, more ruthless than any
plains lord has ever dared to be. And that force comes from off-world."
  "But the Traders—" I was too astonished to grasp it quickly.

   "These are not Traders like unto the men of the Lydis. These
newcomers fight to carve themselves a rooting in our soil, gather to
themselves power, build their own kingdom. Some of the lords they have
already overwhelmed, having worked secretly for a time to sow dissension
among their people; others they have gathered to them with promises of
much treasure to be later shared. They have set one against another,
stirring ever the caldron of war with that spoon which will make it boil the
most furiously. I do not know what we shall find now in Yrjar. I do not
even know if we can reach the city. We can only try."

   What she said was not too enlightening, and not at all promising. It
sounded as if this had been longer building than we had suspected— To
plunge into a land where every man's hand was raised against his
neighbor was daunting. But the port was at the outskirts of Yrjar, and
there lay my only chance of reaching the Lydis.

   Yrjar lay some distance away, and as I chewed upon what Maelen had
said, the journey appeared to double. Were we wise to take the road at all
now?

   That thought was already shaping in my mind when the summons
came. It was sharp and strong, as ringing as any horn call. But it did not
reach me through my ears.

   There was an after moment of silence, then once more the pealing,
demanding order we could not disobey. I heard a small cry from Maelen,
of protest—

   Then, before we willed it, we had turned our mounts to the right, out of
the road into the wilderness of the northern ridges, answering a call which
body and mind must obey—the horn-in of the Thassa, which sounded only
in times of great import.


                                 XVIII
   What I had seen of Yiktor had been much like any other world of its
type—plains backed by hills, covered with vegetation varying in shade. But
Yrjar, the fort of Osokun, Yim-Sin, the temples of Umphra, had their
counterparts on many planets and were also familiar to me in part. Where
we rode now was very different.

    The horning set such bonds upon us that we could not have disobeyed
its order. And we rode on and on, ever north, always into higher country.
The rises here were not softened by any growth of trees, or even slightly
veiled by brush and shrubs. Only small patches of grass, now killed by the
first breath of winter, broke the general desolation of the stone.

   For this was truly a desolate country. I have visited planets burned off
in some nuclear war of such antiquity that it antedated the coming of my
own species into space. That is ruin to daunt the heart of any who look
upon it. But this was even more alien than that. It was a vast loneliness
which rejected life as our kind knows, a stark stripping to the bones of
Yiktor itself.

   Yet there was life here. For when we rode deeper and deeper into this
wilderness of naked stone and sand, we saw traces of those who had gone
before us, tracks left by vans, hoofprints of riding kasi.

   It was as if we lay under some spell, for we did not speak to each other,
neither did I have any desire to turn back to the plains and what had once
seemed my pressing business there. Night came. From time to time we
dismounted, rested our kasi, ate of the supplies in the bags, walked up and
down to ease our own bodies, only to remount and take up the trail once
again.

   At dawn our road wound between two towering cliffs. I thought that at
some immeasurably early time in Yiktor's history this must have been the
bed of a great river. There were sand and gravel and rumbles of bounders
which looked water worn, but no living thing, not even so much as a single
tuft of withered grass. And that river bed brought us into a huge bowl,
also ringed by heights. If we had come up the river, now we entered a lake
bed.

   Here for the first time had man, or some intelligence, broken the
austerity of the wilderness. Cut back into the cliffs about the lake bed were
a series of wide openings, each bordered with carving which had once
been chiseled deep, but now worn away to faint, unreadable tracings.

   These cliff dwellings had inhabitants, for there were vans drawn up
before them, the smoke of fires drifted into the morning air. Animals
wandered about. But men, or Thassa, were missing. Maelen took the lead,
for once we entered the basin the compulsion which had kept me every by
her side lifted. She guided her mount to a picket line, slid from its back,
and straightaway loosened her saddle pad, freeing it. The kas shook its
head and then lay down and rolled in the sand, snorting vigorously. And
mine, as I stripped it, did likewise.

   "Come." For the first time in hours she spoke to me.

    I dropped my saddle pad beside hers and we went across the valley,
heading for the midpoint of the opposite wall. There was a rock doorway
easily twice the size of the others flanking it. I marveled at the vast labor
its carving had demanded, but I could not detect any meaning in the
patterns which were outlined, for they were far too badly eroded.

   Where were the Thassa? All I could see were animals and vans. But as
we approached the cliff door I had my answer. From it came a sound
which was more than mere chanting. It partook also of the movement of
the air in a way I do not have any words in off-world vocabulary to
describe. I fell into the rhythm of it unknowingly and then realized what I
did. Beside me I heard Maelen's voice raised in song.

   We passed from the light of the valley under that heavy portal into a
hall. It was not dark, globes hung high over our heads and we walked
through moonlight, although a few feet outside the sun struck hot across
the rock.

   And the Thassa were there in numbers I could not count. Before us
there was a pathway open to the very center of the place, and down that
Maelen went; I, less surely, a step or two behind her. Always that singing
rang in our ears, beat in our blood, was a part of us.

   So we came to a space where there was an oval dais or platform raised
a few steps above the surface of the floor. And on that stood four of the
Thassa; two were men, two women. Although they were firm of flesh,
bright of eye, yet about them was such an aura of age, authority, and
wisdom as to set them apart, even as their present positions set them
bodily above the rest. Each carried a wand. But these were not the
relatively short rods such as Maelen bore; rather did they top their
holders' heads when one end was planted firmly on the floor. And the light
which shone from these shafts rivaled and paled the moon globes.

   Maelen did not mount the two steps to join them, but stood in the open
just below. And when I hesitantly came up beside her, I saw that her face
was closed and bleak; yet still she sang.

   They all sang until it seemed to me that we did not truly stand on firm
rock, but rather that we wavered back and forth in the currents of an
ocean of sound. I felt that I did not look upon Thassa but upon other
people—or spirits. My vision of them was never complete; rather were they
shadows of what might be the truth.

   How long did we stand so? To this day I do not know, any more than I
can dimly guess the meaning of what was happening. I think that by their
united will as a people they built up certain forces, and from those they
drew what they needed for their purposes. This is a very fumbling
explanation of what I involuntarily joined during that day.

   The song was dying, fading away, in a series of slow, sobbing notes.
Now it carried with it a vast burden of sorrow, as if all the private griefs of
an old, old people had been distilled through centuries, and each small
ultimate drop of despair preserved for future tasting.

   It was not for other ears, that end-song of the Thassa. I might wear
Maquad's body, and in some small ways respond to Thassa ways, but I was
not Maquad and now I put my hands to my ears to shut out the song I
could no longer bear. I felt tears on my cheeks, sobs burst from my chest,
although those about me gave no outward sign of the unbearable grief
they shared.

   One of the four on the dais moved. A wand swung out and pointed to
me. And then I no longer heard! I was free of the cloud I could not bear. So
it was until the song was done.

   Then the second of those commanding that assembly moved. This time
the wand pointed to Maelen. From her fingers her own symbol of
authority freed itself, to fly to the greater rod as iron might be drawn to a
magnet. She gave a little gasp and put out her hand as if, too late, she
would have caught her errant wand. Then both hands fell to her sides and
she stood motionless.

   "What is your tale in this time and place, Singer?"

   The question, which resounded in my head as well as in hers, was not
voiced aloud, but was none the less plain.
   "It is thus—" She began our story, telling it simply and clearly. None of
them interrupted her while she spoke, nor commented on any part of our
incredible experiences. When she had done, she on the dais whose wand
had entrapped Maelen's spoke:

   "This, too, was in your mind, Singer; that there was one of your
blood-clan who knew heart hunger, and that if the semblance of the one
for whom she hungered be returned, perhaps good might come of it."

  "Is this not so?" the man to the right of the speaker asked.

    "In the beginning, I do not think so. Later—" Maelen's hand rose and
fell in a small gesture which I read as resignation.

  "Let that other who is so concerned stand forward," summoned the
woman.

   There was a stir and from the right came a Thassa woman. Although I
could not read age among them, I believed that she was perhaps even
younger than Maelen. She held out her hand to Maelen, and their fingers
interlocked in both greeting and deep affection.

  "Merlay, look upon this man. Is he the one whom you have mourned?"

   She turned slightly to look at me. For a moment there was a kind of
awakening in her face, a light in her eyes, as one might look when fronting
a miracle. Then that light was gone, her face veiled and still.

  "This is not he," she murmured.

   "Nor could ever be!" the other woman on the dais said sharply. "As well
you know, Singer!" And her sharpness was keener yet as she spoke to
Maelen. "Standing Words are not to be altered, Singer, for any personal
reason. You have sworn oaths, do you now admit yourself foresworn."

    The other man on the dais, moved now, raising his wand and swinging
its tip lightly through the air between the three and Maelen.

  "Standing Words," he repeated. "Yes, we lean upon Standing Words as
our anchors and supports. Yet it seems to me that this sorry coil was
begun through Standing Words. Maelen"—he was the first to speak her
name and I thought there was some compassion in his tone—"first saved
this man because of a debt. Nor is she responsible thereafter for much
which happened. Therefore we lay upon her that she do as she has thought
to do, return with him to Yrjar and there undo what has been wrought
through her powers."

   "Which she cannot do," said the sharp-voiced woman, and I read
satisfaction in her speech. "For have we not had news of what will happen
to Maelen the Singer if she is seen there?"

  Maelen raised her head to look at the other in open surprise.

  "What mean you, Old One? What danger lies in Yrjar?"

  "The off-worlders who have raised fire, shed blood, and loosed the
barsks of war have said that Maelen enchanted Osokun and drove him
mad, and that they will have her dead—many believing them."

   "Off-worlders? What off-worlders—and why?" For the first time I broke
into what had seemed none of my affair, only between Maelen and the
rulers of her people. But off-worlders—what was behind all this?

   "Not of your breed, my son," the man who had spoken for Maelen
replied. "But rather that one who sought out Maelen before the beginning
of all this and wished her to be his tool, and those for whom he carried a
sword in this matter. It would seem that you and yours have some
powerful enemy off-world, who have now brought the quarrel to Yiktor."

    "But—if you mean the Combine men—" I was startled. "I have no
personal enemy among them. Long ago their kind and mind warred, that
is true. But of late years our differences have been settled. This is
madness."

   One of the women on the dais smiled sadly. "All war and slaying is
madness whether it be between man and man, or man and animal. But for
whatever reason these bring their fight to the plains, it is true they have
set a price on Maelen. Perhaps they fear she knows too much of them. To
venture into Yrjar—"

  "As Maelen," spoke the girl who stood hand in hand with my
companion, "perhaps not. As Merlay—?"

  The eldest man considered. Then he shook his head, almost regretfully.
"There is the matter of time. Already the Third Ring begins to fade from
the night sky. And only under it may an exchange of Thassa with Thassa
hold true. You would not survive more than four days."

   "It need not be so," continued Merlay, "if the exchange is not made
here, but in the hills which border the plains. Then to Yrjar—four days will
suffice."

   Maelen shook her head. "Better I go in my own body than risk yours,
sister. I pay my own debts."

   "Have I said that you do not?" countered Merlay. "I only ask that you
follow wisdom and not folly. You have said, Mylrin," she appealed to the
leader, "that Maelen has a right to bring this venture to the proper ending.
There are those in Yrjar who knew that Maquad and I were life
companions. If we go together, will we be suspect? This is the best way."

   At length it was decided that she had the best plan. I was not consulted.
In fact, at that moment, I was thinking too much about the off-worlders.
According to Maelen, Salfid had been mixed up in Osokun's intrigues
from the first. He had threatened to tell of the Thassa body-changing to
force Maelen and Malec to his aid. But as far as I knew he was no more
than a very junior officer on a Combine ship. Why would any Combine
wish to war here on Yiktor? They had done the like on other primitive
worlds in the past, we knew gory stories of that—so that they might fish in
troubled waters when both sides were exhausted. But Yiktor, as far as I
knew, had no resources so rich as to tempt them to risk attention from the
Patrol.

   I was puzzling over this when we started back on the trail. Maelen and
I, Merlay, and two of the Thassa men were mounted on the pick of the
riding kasi. We covered the distance at the best pace the animals could
keep. But it took four days of hard riding to reach a nook in the lower
plains for the camp we wished.

   That night we slept and through the next day we rested also, for that
which must be done between Merlay and Maelen required bodies not
strained to the edge of endurance. In the meantime I tried to discover
what I could about the off-worlders. When they knew my concern the
others discussed it with me, but among us we could light on no reason
why Yiktor was a target for such interference.
   "Treasure," Maelen said. "You spoke of treasures which are many and
diverse. You said what is worth perhaps a man's life or a country's
freedom on one world may be nought, less than a child's toy on another. I
do not see what treasure we have here which could bring upon us disaster
from the stars."

   "Nor do I," I agreed. "You have told me there was nothing new and
startling displayed at the fair. And all wares there were already known to
the Free Traders. We could make a profit on a cargo from Yiktor—or we
would not come—but only a reasonable one, not one to attract a Combine
into one of the old-time raids."

   "Mathan," one of the Thassa guards said to his fellow, "when we ride
hence again, it might be well that we do not say, 'This is not our life, let
the plainsmen do as they will about it.' For it might be that our whole
world will be involved and it will be our concern."

   "There is the off-world consul in Yrjar." I clung to my last hope of
learning the why and wherefore of all that had happened since the Lydis
had planeted here. "He must have the answer, or a part of it!"

   On the second night the Thassa wrought their magic. This time I was
no part of it, but was sent to await the one who would come out of the
small tent they had set up to veil their actions. And when she did, booted
and cloaked, ready to ride, we were off for the plains together, while the
others remained.

   The signs of war were here, though we took as covered a route as we
could. I began to wonder if we could get through to Yrjar. We might well
arrive to find the city under siege. She who wore Merlay's body, but was
Maelen, did not agree with my pessimism. Yrjar had always been a kind of
neutral meeting place, even when the fair was not in progress. And if the
uprising was indeed inspired by off-worlders, they would make sure first
of keeping the spaceport free. Warfare on Yiktor had always been more a
matter of raids, hit-and-run attacks, rather than lengthy sieges to reduce
well-fortified places. There was small profit in that, and loosely organized
fighting units quickly lost patience.

   Luckily we would not have to go into the walled portion of the city in
order to reach our goal. For the building which housed the consul was on
the edge of the port field. So we swung south to avoid the main roads into
Yrjar and came in on the field. There was only one ship there—an official
courier, and I noted that it was set down unusually close to the consular
buildings. For the rest the port was deserted. We came in warily, tired
from two long days of riding since we had left the camp in the foothills.
Our kasi were close to done and we would have to have new mounts if we
rode forth again—or rather Maelen, in her guise as Merlay, would. For if
all went well, my only exit from Yrjar would be by ship.

   We reached the edge of the field without any challenge and I did not
like the silence, the feeling of being the only living things abroad in a
forsaken world. With caution we worked our way to the gate of the
consular compound and then were challenged, not by any guard, but by a
force beam. The whole building must be englobed!

   I slapped my palm against the voice box on the outer post, though a
Thassa palm against that would mean nothing to the lock, and then I
stated to the speaker that I had urgent business with Prydo Alcey. For a
long moment, a very long one, I thought I might either be talking to an
empty office, or else I was such a suspicious figure that I could expect at
any moment to be crisped by a beamer. But then the plate lit up and I saw
the face of the consul, knew that he must view me in return.

   When I stated my business I used the Trader tongue, and now he
looked out of the plate in amazement. He turned his head and spoke to
someone over his shoulder, then he looked back to me.

   "Your business?" He used the speech of Yrjar. But I answered in Trader
tongue.

  "Urgent, and with you, Gentle Homo!"

   I thought he was going to deny me, for the plate went dark and he
made me no answer at all. But a few seconds later the door of the inner
court opened and he stood there, backed by two guardsmen. With the
force shield in place, however, they were certainly safe enough from any
weapon known to Yiktor.

  "You are—?"

   I decided to answer with the truth and hoped the apparent lie would
spark his curiosity enough to let me tell the whole of it.

  "Krip Vorlund, assistant cargomaster, Free Trader Lydis."
    He stared and then gestured. One of the guards slapped the wall, and
the sheen of the force shield was gone—for a moment. But both guards
now held beamers on us as they motioned us in. We rode our stumbling
kasi into the courtyard and I heard a swish as the screen went up behind
us.

  "Now," Alcey said quietly, "suppose this time you begin with the truth."

   All men who travel the star lanes must develop the ability to accept
weird things beyond the normal edge of belief. But I think that the consul
of Yrjar found my story more bizarre than any he had heard before, except
that, Thassa though I looked, I was able to supply so many off-world
details that he had to admit only one who had served on a Trader could
have given them. And when I had done he looked from me to Maelen and
then back again.

  "I saw Krip Vorlund when he was brought in— what was left of him.
Now you arrive and tell me this. What do you want?"

   "Get in touch with the Lydis, let me send a message. I can provide
details which will prove the truth."

   He smiled then, and it was the type of smile to dry up any flow of
speech.

  "You have my permission to signal off-world anything you wish,
Vorlund, if you can."

  "If lean?"

   "I am, as you might have guessed from your welcome, no longer a free
agent on Yiktor. There is a blanket satellite operating on short orbit up
there—" He pointed to the ceiling over our heads.

  "Blanket satellite! But—"

   "Yes, but—and but—and but! A hundred planet years ago this might
have been a reasonably normal situation. Now—it comes as somewhat of a
shock, does it not? The Korburg Combine, or at least some agents stating
they represent that Combine, have landed and believe they have the
situation well in hand. I tried to get off a courier last night and was
warned there was a stop-circuit set up. Because I have seen other
evidences of their ruthlessness in operation here, I did not take the
chance."

   "But what do they want?" I demanded. As he had said, a hundred years
ago such piracy would have been usual, but now! The appetites of the big
Combines and Companies had long been curbed by the Patrol; there were
drastic answers to such action.

   "Something," Alcey returned. "Just what has not been made entirely
clear. So your problem"—he shook his head—"now becomes a relatively
minor one, except of course for you. There is this—" he hesitated. "I may
not be doing right to tell you this, but you should be prepared. I saw your
body when it was returned here. Your medico, he was not sure you could
make it, but the Lydis had been warned out privately by one of their local
merchant contacts.

   They agreed to carry a message from me to the nearest Patrol post. We
had only hints and rumors then, but enough to know they must lift ahead
of time. And you—or your body—could well not have survived that lift. The
medico protested it on your behalf."

   I glanced down from meeting his eyes to the hands resting before me on
the table top. Long thin fingers, ivory skin, strange hands—but they did
my will, moved at my command. What if—if he was right in his foreboding
that the Krip Vorlund taken away in the Lydis was dead, now perhaps
spaced in a coffin suit after the manner of my people, so to lie among the
stars for all eternity?

   Beside me Maelen stirred. "I must be going," she said, and her voice
was faint, very weary. So she recalled my thoughts—the change between
her and her sister could not last much longer. With every passing moment
their danger grew.

  "But you do not know what Korburg wants here?"

   "This much. There have been recent changes in the Council, especially
as it touches the government of some inner planets. This world might
provide a refuge or way station—temporary, of course, but perhaps
necessary for some Veep when a coup on his home world has failed, a
place from which he could come back with an army trained here."

  It sounded unlikely, but his preparation for guessing right was better
than mine. It remained clear that there was no hope at present of reaching
the Lydis. If Captain Foss had made it to the nearest Patrol post—

   Then it would only be a matter of time before they would visit Yiktor.
On the other hand Maelen had very little time left. And we would be safer
to return to her people to wait out the struggle. I asked for a recorder, and
with both of them listening taped a message which I thought would
identify me to all on board the Lydis. Then I told Alcey what I would do
and he agreed.

   The consul furnished us with fresh mounts, though they were not as
wiry and mountain-trained as the two who had carried us to Yrjar. At
nightfall we rode from the port. This time we were not so lucky in escaping
notice, for we were trailed and only Maelen's power acting on the mounts
of the pursuers let us pull ahead. The singing left her further drained and
she urged us to greater speed, lest she fail before we found the camp.

   Toward the end of that nightmare journey I carried her before me in
my arms, since she could no longer sit on her animal. We put on a last
burst to come to the secluded ravine between two steep hills where we had
left the others. The tent was there, rent and crumpled on the ground. And
half entangled in the folds lay one of the Thassa.

   "Monstans!" Maelen broke from my hold and stumbled toward him,
falling to the ground by his side, yet struggling up to look into his still,
white face. She caught his head between her hands, bent to set her lips to
his, sharing her breath with him.

   I saw the tremor of his eyelids. The whole front of his tunic was stained
scarlet, but somehow he had held on to the last dregs of his life force until
our coming.

   "Merlay"—it was a whisper in our minds, not any words shaped by
those pallid lips— "they have taken her—think she—is—you—"

  "Where?" Our demand was as if in one voice.

  "East—" So much had he done in our service, but no more. The life he
had held to swept out of him in one small sigh.

  Maelen looked to me. "They seek my life. If they believe that they now
have me—"
  "We can follow." I had to promise that. And, for good or ill, I knew I
would keep my word.


                                  XIX
   I saw thereafter how determination of will can carry one beyond the
limits of body strength. For she whom I had brought before me drew upon
such will to send her on from the destroyed camp.

   "Mathan?" I searched about for some trace of the other Thassa before I
left the body I had wrapped in the tattered tent. Maelen sat on her saddle
pad, both hands pressed to her face. Now she spoke, her voice muffled by
her fingers.

  "He has gone ahead."

  "A prisoner also?"

  "My power fades so fast. I cannot say." She dropped her hands to look
upon me. Her eyes were dull. It was as if even as I watched, life ebbed from
her. "Tie me," she begged. "I do not know how much longer I can ride."

   I did as she wished before we left the ravine, following a trail the
raiders had made no effort to conceal. There were many kasi tracks and,
while I could not be sure, I thought that more than a dozen riders had
passed this way.

   The way we took was not a road, yet it had been used before, and it
pointed through the hills ever westward toward Oskold's hold. Maelen
made no effort to guide her mount, which nevertheless followed closely the
one I rode. She once more shaded her face with her hands, and I thought
that now she shut out the world both physically and mentally, so she could
either reach or hold some tie which would pull us to what we now sought.

   Night became day and we found a camp where there were embers of a
fire still warm to the touch. Maelen's head now hung forward heavily on
her breast, her arms limp at her sides. She roused only to much urging
from me. But I got water between her lips, saw her swallow as if that act
were both painful and difficult. More than a little liquid she refused.

  It was strange to see one I had come to accept as having more than
human powers become so dependent. But her half-open eyes focused on
me after I had made her drink, and there was knowledge and recognition
in them.

  "Merlay still lives—they take her to some overlord—" Her voice was the
merest threat of whisper.

  "And Mathan?" I held to the hope that the other Thassa had escaped
death or injury, that he might eventually join us in whatever frail attempt
we must make to free Maelen's body from the raiders.

  "He is—gone— "

  "Dead!"

   "Not—so. He has gone to call—" Her head fell forward again and her too
slender body swayed in the bonds which held her on the kas. I could not
rouse her again. Thus I stood in the deserted camp of the enemy and
wondered what was to be done. Manifestly Maelen could not continue, and
to go on alone was rank folly. Yet neither could I abandon the trail.

   "Ahhhhhh—" Half sigh, half crooning cry from Maelen. I hurried to her
again. But, though that sound continued from between her lips, still she
did not come out of the stupor.

    There was a rustling in the bushes. I whirled, the Thassa sword-knife
fitting in my hand awkwardly, since it was a weapon new to me. From the
branches, downdrooping and still hung with leaves, came an animal—an
animal? No—more than one, and not from just one side. Nor was the beast
that had first pushed a fangfringed muzzle through the vegetation a
pattern for the rest. No, here were the Borba and Vors, and their like
Tantacka, here was the like of—Simmle— More and more of them!

  And the beast who led that silent, purposeful advance was one new to
me, long and lithe of body, feline in its movements, with a prick-earred
head, and—and eyes with the spark of human intelligence in them!

  "What? Who?" I tried to beam an inquiry at their leader.

  "Mathan!" The identification was sure.

  Those others, were they also Thassa? Or some of those whom Maelen
had sent into the wilderness?Or companions of other beast masters and
mistresses?

  "Part and part," Mathan gave me answer.

  He loped soft-footed to Malene's kas, stood upon his hind legs to look
upon her.

   "Ahhhhh—" Again that cry from her. But she did not open her eyes or
look at him and that company. For a company—no a regiment!—it was.

   More and more rustling in the brush, heads out into the open, animal
eyes regarded me narrowly.

  "She cannot ride any farther," I told Mathan.

   Furred head turned, round eyes met mine. "She must!" With his teeth
he caught one of the ties which kept her on the on the pad, gave it a sharp
tug. "This will hold. She must come!"

   If he had passed some command to that army, I did not hear it. Now
they flowed past Maelen and went westward and were swallowed up in the
cover. Of their number I could not be sure, save there were more of them
than I had ever seen gathered together before. But the feline Mathan
paced just before us as we rode on. I tried to stay beside Maelen to steady
her. She slumped forward now, lying against the kas's neck, wholly
oblivious of us and the road.

   There was a coming and going of animals, occasionally some would
return and look at Mathan. I was sure that messages passed between
them, but I could not pick up any information. We had progressed well
into the hills, taking a way which did not lead to any gap but up steep
ascents, where I dismounted and walked beside Maelen. There was no sign
of any trail here, and several times we inched along a knife-edge advance. I
dared not raise my eyes from the footing, lest I turn giddy.

   At last we came out on a level space. Snow lay here, and fine flakes of it
stung my nostrils, were glitter points in the air. If the plains had not yet
quite felt the last of autumn, here winter already licked at the land. I
fastened the cloak tighter around Maelen; she stirred beneath my hand. I
felt a shudder run through her thin frame, heard her gasp and then cry
out. She struggled against my hold, sitting up as she had not for hours, to
look at me, at the rocks and snow, with eyes which were first wild and
unseeing, then had recognition in them.

   "Maelen!" The voice she used was shrill, carrying enough to bring an
echo. There was a deep growl from the beast with Mathan's eyes. And too
late she put her hands to her lips as if to stifle that cry.

   She who had been so drained and helpless was now erect, as if strength
flowed into her in great waves. There was even a delicate flush on her
cheeks, more color than I had ever seen on Maelen.

   Maelen? It was clear to me now—this was not Maelen. Merlay had
returned to her own body. But before I could say that, or ask the reason,
she nodded to me.

  "Merlay." She gave me the answer I had guessed. Maelen's time had run
out, the exchange had been made without any ceremony or outward sign.

  "And Maelen?" My words, Mathan's thought sped together.

  "With them." She shivered and I knew it was not from cold, though the
wind was a breath of frost.

   She looked about, from peak to peak, as if searching for some
landmark. Then she pointed to one to the right, yet well ahead.

  "They camp on the far slope there."

  "For how long?" Mathan demanded.

  "I do not know. They wait for someone, or some message. They hold
Maelen by the orders of a leader I never saw. But I do not think we have
much time."

   Again a growl from Mathan's throat. He was gone in a flash of
gray-tawny fur, and I knew that all those others he commanded in his
strange regiment were running with him. Merlay looked to me.

   "I am no Singer. I have no power to aid us now, save that I may be your
guide."

  She urged the kasi on in Mathan's wake, and I after her. For these few
moments I wished I had again the barsk body, that I might run behind the
Thassa warrior. The lope of a sure-footed animal in this maze of rock and
fall would have been far swifter than our constrained walk. My impatience
was a goad. I had to exert full control or I might have overridden her.

  Now and then she glanced at me, and each time she looked quickly
away again. It was as if something drew her eyes, searching ever for what
was not there, and each time being met by loss. I thought I could guess
what pulled and then repelled her.

  "I am not Maquad."

   "No. Eyes can deceive, they are the gateways for illusion. You are not
Maquad. Yet am I glad in this hour you wear what was once his. Maelen is
caught in coils not altogether of her spinning, the heart can betray the
mind many times over."

   I did not really understand her words, but it did not matter. For I had
one bit of knowledge. I might be Thassa only in outward appearance, yet I
did not believe at this moment I could follow any other road, to any other
end, than that which lay before me. Was I still Krip Vorlund, asked a
doubting thought not far buried? As I had partaken of the nature of Jorth
the barsk, sometimes losing man within the animal, so might I not also
join with the residue of Maquad lingering in his husk? And if I actually
returned to take on the body of Krip Vorlund once again— though that
seemed remote now—would I be only Krip Vorlund thereafter?

  "Why do they want Maelen? And how did they find you?"

    The second question she answered first. "Not by chance—they trailed
us. But whether they first came upon our tracks by chance and
followed—that I do not know. As to why they want Maelen—that, too, is
hard to read. They wish to lay upon her, as we heard, a measure of blame
for what they have done. I think that they plan to use her somehow to win
Oskold to them, or to open some door in the western lands where he may
still be paramount lord. This much I can tell you: those who hold her have
their orders to do just that, no more. He who comes will decide—"

   Once more we climbed, and slipped, and climbed again where no trail
ran, but where the kasi appeared able to pick footage. We were under the
shadow of the peak she had indicated. Around us there was no rustling of
brush, no sign any animal army marched with us, save that here and there
a paw print left a sharp signature.
  Merlay left her saddle pad. "The kasi can go no farther. We make our
own road from here."

   And a steep and perilous way that was. At times we had more holds for
finger tips and toes, but still we fought for inches of advance. We rounded
a rocky outcrop and so came to the other side of the rise. The snow had
stopped, but it was followed by a still cold which bit at a man's lungs with
every breath he drew. And we came together in a niche to look down into
the purplish depths of the eastern foothills of Oskold's land.

   Night was coming fast. I wished I had Jorth's eyes to read through
shadows. The ground before us was as rough as that we had just covered.
And to descent it in the dark promised trouble. But we had no time to
linger. Merlay pointed.

   "There!"

   No tents or vans, but a fire, yes. It would appear that those there did
not care if they attracted attention . I tried to pick out a spot on the slope
where they could have stationed a picket to scout pursuit. Shadow slipped
from shadow—mind-touch—This was Borba coming up to us.

   "Come—" His head swung to indicate a path and we crept behind him.
Thus we came down as silently as we could. And in that coming we passed
a pool of dark. A hand, lax-fingered and very still, protruded from it, palm
up and empty. Borba's lips wrinkled and he snarled as he passed that hand
and what lay behind it.

   We came off rock and into soil rooting small trees of a ragged timber
line. From here we could not see the beacon of the campfire, must depend
upon the small furred guide. I no longer possessed Jorth's sense of smell,
but perhaps the Thassa were better equipped with noses than my own
race. For I picked up whiffs of animal odor, enough to tell me that though
we neither saw nor heard them, Mathan's force lay in waiting about us.
Then a larger shape rose out of the ground at our feet and I caught the
thought of the Thassa leader:

   "A party comes to the camp. Hasten!"

   We moved to the dark side of a rock. Beyond, the fire shot higher, gave
more light, as it was fed energetically by two men. I counted eight in plain
sight. They were all, to my eyes, like any sword-sworn I had seen in Yrjar. I
could not read the emblems on their cloaks or surcoats.

  "Whose?" I mind-beamed to Mathan.

  "Oskold's there—there—there—" He indicated three. "The rest—I have
not seen that device before."

  The sound of a horn, sharp and clear, cut the small noises of the camp.
There was silence for a second and then shouts of welcome.

  "Maelen?"

  "There!"

   Merlay answered my question. What I had taken for a roll of sleep
covering lay, unmoving, well into the firelight.

   "They fear her—to look into her eyes," Merlay whispered. "So they have
tied cloaks about her lest she turn them into animals. They have been told
that she will do this, that we all shall do this."

   I did not hear Mathan growl, but I felt the vibration through the
fur-clad shoulder pressed close to mine.

   "Can we get to her—" I had begun when another party tramped into the
firelight. The flames glinted and flashed from ornamentation on cloak and
helm. And he who led them was older than the rest.

  "Oskold." Mathan's thought identified him.

   Their voices carried, but the words were in the inland tongue and I did
not understand. I tried to read the thoughts behind them. There was
triumph, satisfaction, anger. Yes, emotions were easier to pick up than
words.

   One of the fire-feeders stooped and jerked at the bundle which was
Maelen, pulling her upright. Meanwhile another stepped forward to grasp
the covering about her head and shoulders and pull it loose. Her silver hair
shook free, and then she raised her head with a toss which cleared that
silver veil from her face; she stood head up and unbending to front Oskold.

  "'Ware, lord, she will make you beast!" One of his companions laid
hand on Oskold's arm to pull him back, the intensity of his thought
readable to me.

   Oskold laughed. His hand, covered with a glove reinforced across the
knuckles with metal strips, swung up to strike Maelen full in the face. She
crumpled, down.

   So it was Oskold who gave us our signal. The raging fury which now
boiled out of the dark, and the tree shadows leaped, tore, screamed,
growled, shrieked in that moment after Maelen went down. I heard the
cries of men, the tumult of the beasts, but I headed for Maelen.

   I was no swordsman and my sword-knife was a poor weapon, but I
reverted to Jorth's rage in those moments when flames became a red
curtain in my mind, drowning thought, leaving me only one purpose in
mind. This was as it had been when I had gone after Osokun and his
men—

   She was under my hand—still—no life in her, her face up to the sky, the
red ruin that blow had wrought on flesh and bone made plain. And I
crouched above her, snarling as any of the furred ones who fought about
me.

   As it had been with the outlaws who had killed Malec and taken our
camp, so it was now with these. For there is a kind of horror in such
warfare which the minds of men find impossible to comprehend. To have
waves of animals break about them unnerved some from the start,
fighting men though they were. Others rallied, killed, some standing their
ground; others fought a rear-guard action to withdraw, always harassed,
pulled down, overrun.

   For me there was but one in that enemy company. And knife in hand, I
made for him. In spite of the surprise of our attack, at least one of his
guards had come to Oskold's side, fending off with his shield two rushes
from a pair of venzese who sprang to snap and bounced back to wait
another chance.

   I tripped over a body and sprawled forward, almost into the heart of
the fire. Then my hands, bracing me up again, closed on a beamer—
something I had not expected to find there, but which fitted into my palm
as familiarly as a long-worn glove. I did not even try to get to my knees; I
lay and pressed the firing button of a weapon which had no right to be
there.
    The ray it threw was a thrust of eye-searing fire. No shield could stand
against that, no, nor man either! I had wanted to let Oskold feel my hands
upon him as he went down, but I took the means fate sent me and used
the off-world arm. Once, twice— Oskold might be on the ground now but
there were others of his following—There was a sputter and the ray died,
its charge exhausted. I hurled it from me into the fire and crawled back to
Maelen.

   Above that fearful wound her eyes were now open and she saw me,
knew me—of that I was sure. I caught her up and went back into the dark,
to that rock where Merlay had been. I staggered a little when I reached
that poor shred of cover, so I had to lean against the chill stone. Merlay
was still there, but she did not touch what I held, only laid her hand upon
my shoulder. A flow of strength was channeled so from her to me.

   This was a battle, and it was fought, and men died and animals died,
but for me it was a nightmare which I can not well remember. Only at last
there was quiet, and we came once more to the fire. For it seems ours was
the victory. Yet it might well be that it was also defeat—

   I laid Maelen down on the robes Merlay spread to receive her. Still she
looked at me and at Merlay, and at the animals who came to her, and last
of all to the feline Mathan, who staggered into the fire shine with a wound
in his side. But her thoughts did not come to me. Only her eyes told me
she still lived.

   Suddenly I could not look into them any longer, but got up and walked
blindly away, stumbling among the dead. One followed me and sprang to
catch my dangling hand between sharp teeth. I glanced down at Borba. A
split ear dripped blood, but undaunted eyes met mine.

  "Come."

    Because nothing mattered now, I went as he wished and we thread
among bushes until we came to where there was a line of picketed kasi.
Someone moved ahead of me there, slowly, so slowly I thought he might be
wounded. Borba hissed and pulled at my hand, urging me on. The figure,
fumbling with a lead rein, swung around to face me. In this lack of light I
could not see his face, but that he was a fugitive from the camp, I knew. I
leaped for him. Under my weight he collapsed, though he struggled feebly.
I struck an off-world blow, felt my slender Thassa hand go numb. But the
one under me was still. I hooked fingers into his collar and pulled him
with me into the firelit open.

  "Krip Vorlund!"

   It was not recognition but summons. I left my prisoner lying and went
to the three who waited on me. Mathan lay with his head resting on
Merlay's knee, and Maelen—I could not bring myself to look upon her.

   But it was her mind-call which had brought me. I went down on my
knees and took her two hands into mine. They gave me back no pressure,
no sign that more than her eyes lived. Beside her something moved with a
whine. Vors—was it Vors or another of the same breed crouched there?

  Merlay stirred, Mathan raised his head. There was firelight here, but
over us hung the moon. And that Third Ring which had been so bright, so
sharply defined when this whole mad venture began, was now only a misty
haze, soon to disappear.

  "Moon!" A thought—a whisper of a whisper— "Mathan—moon!"

   Her hands were very cold in mine, there was nothing which could ever
warm them now. Suddenly the glassia beside her cried out, a kind of
keening.

   Mathan's head rose higher. There was a rumble from his throat, but it
was no beast growl. Rather it was singing, a singing which entered my
head, my blood, traveled through me. Then I heard Merlay take up that
song, which she could not initiate, but which she could second. And
Maelen's eyes held mine, searched into me, somehow touched a part of the
body I wore which had never been open to Krip Vorlund. So I believe I
sang, too, though I am not sure. We sat there in the fine haze of the fading
moon Ring and helped sing Maelen out of death into a new life.

   When I again looked with full consciousness around me, the hands I
held were those of a husk which the spirit had deserted. And resting on my
arm, warm and living, was a small furred head. I dropped the hands of
death to gather close warmth and life.

   The prisoner I had taken by the kasi lines looked at me when we
brought back his senses to him, but did not know me. I knew him well,
though, for there was little change in him since that afternoon when he
had suggested my meeting with Maelen. Gaul Slafid.
   He tried to make a bargain with those of us he believed to be Thassa.
Such stupidity I did not understand, unless being made prisoner in such a
fashion muddled his wits for a time. Then he mouthed threats, telling us
what would happen to all the Thassa unless we instantly set him free and
made abject terms with those behind him. And here, too, perhaps fears
prompted his ravings. But we heard enough so that I might guess the rest.

   Alcey had hit upon the beginnings of it. Yiktor had been closely studied
for years by men who needed, as part of their plans, a primitive planet as a
base and supply depot. And, playing politics, the Korburg Combine had
waded into waters so deep they must aid these exploiters or drown.

   The Thassa had been thought to constitute a threat, so a grand crusade
against them had been planned. It had been planned to unite the lords
under one leader into an army which could later be directed as the
exploiters saw fit. But the ancient feuds and rivalries had not made this
smooth working, and they chose to use Maelen's involvement with Osokun
to whip up that crusade.

   What would come of it all, who knew? But at this moment Gauk Slafid
was one piece removed from the game board. And I believe the realization
of that ate into him acidly, so he mumbled on and on, refusing to face the
wreck of his own ambitions.

   We took him back with us into that strange dead-lake valley in the hills.
And there was all stood before the Old Ones. Slafid they wasted little time
upon, giving him to me to take to the port to face the judgment of his own
species, saying he was of my blood and mine the responsibility for him.

   But then they came to the judging of Maelen under their own law. And
I was not allowed to question, or to speak thereupon, for they let me know
at once that I only abode there by their favor. When I rode from that
place, a guard of Thassa going with me, I carried a furred one who was not
Vors, but another.

   For this was their judgment—she was to abide in the body given her
freely by one who loved her, that her spirit have housing—to remain so
until moon and stars drew a pattern in her favor, according to some
obscure reckoning of their own. And while so she was to be with me,
whom, they said, had been her victim—though to this I did not agree.

  With Slafid, who had now lapsed into sullen silence, we came to Yrjar.
There he talked again, to officers of the Patrol come at the message borne
by the Lydis. So was that off-world conspiracy finished, at least as far as
Yiktor was concerned. That planet left to lick its wounds and sort some
order out of chaos.

    I sat at last with Captain Foss and those from the Lydis. And I looked
past them to a mirror on the wall of the counsul's inner chamber. Therein
I saw a Thassa. Inside that body, though I might be altered a little, I was
still Krip Vorlund. Thassa ways were not mine. Not being truly of them I
could not live their life. The would open their vans, their tents to me
(Mathan, once more in human-guise, had asked me to join his clan), but
among them I would be as a cripple stumping on one foot, using but one
hand, seeing with but one eye.

   All this I said to Foss, but the final decision lay with him and the
others, according to our custom. For the casing which had brought Krip
Vorlund to Yiktor was gone, cast into space when it had "died" weeks
earlier. Now I waited to hear whether Krip Vorlund was indeed dead, or
whether he would be allowed to return to life.

   "Free Trader," Foss mused. "I have seen many things traded in my
time, and on many worlds, but this is the first time I have seen an
exchange of bodies. You say these Thassa look upon their outward flesh
and bones as we would upon a suit of clothing, to be changed when the
need arises. Does that also stand for you?"

  I shook my head. "My own body, yes—but no other. I am Thassa to look
upon, not Thassa in powers. I will remain as you now see me."

   "Good enough!" Lidj brought his hand down in a mighty blow on the
top of the table between us. "You pulled your weight before. Standing in
another body will not change that. Are we agreed?"

    He glanced at Foss, at the rest of them. And I read their verdict before
they spoke it. Inwardly, I wondered if I had done right in asking to return.
In me somewhere lay a small part of Jorth, and of Maquad. I perhaps wore
more than just the body. But if they thought me Krip Vorlund, I would try
to be him again fully. And, looking out upon the port and the waitingLydis
, I knew I must throw away all doubts. Jorth and Maquad were less than
nothing beside what was waiting out there for me. I was Krip Vorlund,
Trader, and that was all—it must be all!
   Yet more than just another body did I take out of Yiktor. A small furred
person shared my cabin and my thoughts. Many times I do not see her as
she is, but as she was. She came by free choice and the will of the Thassa.

   Time stretches far between the stars, and fortune makes many turns for
good or ill. There are treasures and treasures. Perhaps one shall fall into
our hands and paws. And we shall have our ship, and our company of little
people to travel the trails of space. Who can tell? I am Krip Vorlund of the
Lydis, and already they forget that I look different. But I do not forget who
lies beneath the skin of Vors and will walk two-footed someday. We shall
both see Yiktor again—and if it lies then under Three-Ringed
Sotrath—who can foresee what may happen? .