"We are all sorrowing," said Blacklock, "and at least our
team came through without accident. Will you speak with
Antho and Spinner ... and take comfort from their safe-
ty?II
I will see them soon enough."
"What is your will then?" asked Blacklock sulkily.
I will have this Garl Brinroyan and his Tomarvan as
quickly as the winds can carry them, for the newcomer's
safety. Dorn ... give my words to your Luck."
I passed on the words as I was told, but the plans
outlined were shocking to me. Blacklock and Diver must fly
out together in their machines Dabkan and Tomarvan to a
place far away, east of Rintoul, where Nantgeeb would be
waiting. Agents of Tiath Gargan were supposed to be in
Otolor; Diver's existence, even his identity, might become
well known now that he had won the Bird Clan.
I put this all to Diver exactly as it came to me, and he
made the reply that I had already made in my mind. "Ask
the Maker of Engines what is to become of Brin's Five?"
"They are very rich, with even a portion of the Bird Clan
winnings. Let them take land or return to Hingstull; they
have played their part."
"Not so!" exclaimed Diver. "For I am their Luck, and I
will not leave them, especially in Otolor where danger
threatens."
"My care is for your person and the knowledge you bring
to Torin."
"You are the Maker of Engines, so I will give you mine to
study. Let Fer Utovangan, or Antho, if that is his name, fly
the Tomarvan and my scripts on its engines to your meeting
place. I will go on with Brin's Five to Rintoul and ask for
news of my air ship."
I can see why this new bird is your sib, Blacklock," said
the Maker of Engines, "for he is as tender in his feelings and
as stubborn as you are."
So it was arranged; I gripped Diver's hand with relief, for
( 142 )
I had seen our Luck snatched away from us. But Nantgeeb
was eager to have the Tomarvan. Blacklock promised to find
us all passage to Rintoul before he flew away also.
"Tell the Maker of Engines I look forward to a true
meeting," said Diver.
"Tell Garl Brinroyan to take care," said the Maker of
Engines.
I knew this was the end of our audience. A last whisper
grated at my ear: "And do not ask in Rintoul for the air
ship. Tiath Pentroy has losthis prize. I have it now."
Diver sprang up when I said this and questioned the
empty air, but Nantgeeb's presence had been withdrawn.
Blacklock walked about flexing his shoulder musdes like
a weary omor and cursing under his breath. "Garl Brinroy-
an, this is an old quarrel you have come upon. Nantgeeb
hates the Bird Clan," he said.
"I like it less than I did," said Diver, "but with your help,
Murno, my good friend, we will fly by all these nets."
Blacklock smiled again and even laid a hand on my head
to make me more cheerful. "Escort, you have served your
Luck well!"
We walked all together out of the silken tent into the
sunlight of the New Year and made our way, through
subdued cheers and salutations, to the green tent, garland-
ed now, where Brin and Ablo were waiting.
When I saw Brin again, my eyes stung with tears, like a
child who does not cry after a fall until its mother brings
promi~e of comfort. But I did not weep. We sat in the tent,
and I reported faithfully all that had passed. The task of
making these reports, as a Witness must do sometimes, is
not easy, and I did not envy Narneen, who was going to
have a lifetime of it.
Brin turned to Diver when all had been told. "We have a
great Luck," she said, "not because he wins the Bird Clan,
but because he is faithful to his bond."
( 143 )
9
I
THE CLOSING CEREMONIES OF THE BIRD CLAN were shortened
because of jebbal's death on the field. Even so they took
several hours, part of them spent in sorting and counting
our winnings. These were lodged in five wheeled wicker
caskets, each one big enough to contain two or three
Moruians, inside the Launcher's pavilion. Ablo was given a
generous share and left to head a guard chosen from
Blacklock's escort; this pleased him almost as much as the
cloth and credits he had won.
The gates had already been opened, and the members of
the Bird Clan were streaming across to the fairgrounds to
celebrate the New Year. A bridge of decorated barges stood
at the river gate; the double bridge past the citadel was
twined with flowers. Flying machines still passed overhead,
taking their leave. Diver instructed Fer Utovangan in the
control of the Tomarvan, and he flew a brief practice flight.
It was arranged that Fer and Blacklock should fly out the
next day or the day after that.
"I will care for this bird of yours," said Fer. "No harm
will come to the Tomarvan, and I hope you will fly in it
again." For he could see that Diver loved the flying machine
and did not really wish to part with it.
( 144 )
At last we were ready to leave and find our family at that
good pitch the Harper had told of in his skein, by the cloth
market. It was customary for the winner to leave in
triumph, with Bird Clan vassals playing music all the way
to the Sun Carpet, the famous dancing place in the center of
the fairgrounds. We did not use this escort, and it was
understood that this was out of respect for Jebbal, but we
had other reasons as well.
We set out at the third hour after midday, three nonde-
script Moruians, two adults and a child, muffled in plain
gray silken cloaks. We joined the crowds thronging the
double bridge, and I felt at last a lifting of my spirits. Home
again. Home to the tent after so long, with Mamor, the
Harper, Old Gwin, Narneen, and Tomar waiting for us. It
was a day when nothing but friendship should prevail. The
faces I saw everywhere were smiling; there was no ill-will,
no ill-natured jostling. Children ran about among the
crowd waving fair favors of colored wool that twirled on a
stick. As we passed the citadel, Brin checked suddenly,
then we walked across the second arch into Otolor.
"Something wrong?" asked Diver.
"I thought we had a follower . . . in twirler's dress."
"Petsalee!" I squeaked. "I saw him, I saw him . . ." It
seemed ages ago, before the race was won, before Jebbal
died.
We stood in the shadow of a cook-stall awning and looked
back for a long time but saw nothing suspicious. Then we
threaded our way down a long alley full of cook-stalls, and
the scent was so delicious that Diver and Brin took pity on
me and we stopped to buy roast wild fowl stuffed with
berries. Then, feeling open-handed, we bought a carrying
hamper of food to take to the tent and spent so much that
the cook-shop owner gave us towels when we washed at the
fountain. We wandered on well fed, and then I saw two
twirlers, neither of them our watcher, lounging in their
( 145 )
blue rags under the window of a fixed house, a common
sleeping house for fair travellers. They stared dully about
and accepted offerings but certainly paid us no heed.
I will feed these birds a little grain," said Brin. We
followed her and stood to one side as she approached the
pair.
"Greetings to the spirit warriors," she said, dropping a
credit into their gourd.
"Eenath's blessing!" was the soft response.
I stared at them, feeling the same mixture of fascination
and disgust that I had felt for the twirlers in Cullin. They
were both still young; their brown bodies were thin and
stringy, scarred from head to foot with the marks of the
sharp shells. I have heard townees complain that the
twirlers are dirty, but I hardly noticed. I saw their
expression, gentle, sad, dazed. Could Eenath bring this fate
upon her followers?
"Dear friends," said Brin, "share this food and answer me
a question."
"What pleases you, in Eenath's name." A gaunt hand
came up for the food, but Brin held it out of reach.
"Where is the twirler Petsalee?"
The twirlers were silent; their faces grew firmer, their
expressions almost sly. .
"Petsalee . . ." prompted Brin. The twirler who had
reached for the food held up two fingers and whistled
softly. Brin reached a second game bird from the basket.
"The spirit warriors dance at the Sun Carpet," said the
twirler.
"At what hour?"
"When the spirits call .
"About the fourth hour after the New Year Shout!" put
in the second twirler who was very hungry. "The Leader
Petsalee will call the dance."
Brin gave them a bird each, and we left them eating.
Diver was curious about Petsalee; how could he be Leader
( 146 )
I
still and recruit a new band of twirlers? Did this mean we
had misjudged the creature-he had not bought a life but
only escaped Tiath Gargan's massacre?
"Twirlers have their own laws and their own secrets,"
said Brin, "Petsalee must hold great power for them."
We were still passing through a part of the fair given over
to eafingaaaL at~nVvng% tlienw -, came to -a place tor all Vinas
of sports and games. Brushwood fences separated the
stone-placers from the teams of skip-rope and the ringers,
who twitch down wooden pegs from a high stand with a
reed ring attached to a strong thread. A whole pen of
ancients were taking part in a knitting contest, with the
colored work growing before our eyes until it flowed over
their knees, so fast their needles flew. Diver announced that
he could knit; he had had it from his mother and all his
female ancestors. We laughed in disbelief, until Brin
fetched a ball of thread and needles from the knitting
marshal and cast on a few stitches, as she used to do for me,
when I made my winter stockings. Diver took over pretty
unhandily, but he knitted, both first and second stitch;
anything requiring more skill or more than two needles he
said was beyond him.
"Knitters are born," said Brin. "Dorn here is still battling
with his third twist and double plaits. The best knitter I
ever saw was Little Griss, the Luck of Tarr's Five, my birth
Family. He swore he could knit a tent, given the right
thread."
Diver explained, as we walked on into the pottery
market, that knitting had been a dying art on his world, but
had grown up again in something called the Craft Revival.
So we passed on, through the pottery market, the place
for music and singing-where we looked for the Harper-
and the fortune-tellers' lane, where we kept an eye open for
Gordo Beethan. We skirted the edge of the Sun Carpet and
took a side trip into the fixed houses of Otolor, beside the
old curtain walls of the town, now tumbled down and
( 147 )
I
planted with flowers for a memorial. We came at last to the
cloth market, and I was impatient, for the stalls of cloth
reminded me of our winnings and the great news we were
bearing home. Behind the cloth market is a wide field,
especially planted with red-wood trees for the bush weavers
to use for the support of their tents. We stood on the edge of
this field and stared, and I saw it. Our tent . . . our own
good tent, with the three new panels replacing those we had
left in the glebe on Hingstull. It stood a long way off on the
distant boundary of the field; there were not many people
about, and none that we knew; everyone was at the fair. Yet
somehow I thought of the Family all sitting in the tent
waiting for us. I began to run.
"Hold ... in the winds' name, hold!" I looked back and
saw a lithe figure in gray dart out from behind a tree, a
stranger, frantically hailing our approach. Then I thought I
knew it . . . the Witness who had called Narneen! Before I
could think of her partner, I was caught and held in a firm
grip.
"Still! Be still for your life, Brinroyan child!" said a
strong accented voice. I looked up into the scarred face of
the scribe from the Fire-Town. I must have showed fear,
for he slackened his grip at once and turned his face away in
an odd cringing motion,.as if protecting me from the sight.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am Vel Ragan, ever your
friend."
D 'ver and Brin converged on us fiercely, with Diver
already fumbling under his cloak.
"Let the child go!" ordered Brin.
"Hold, I pray," gasped the Witness Onnar. "We bring a
warning." Vel Ragan released my arm and held out his
hands empty in the gesture of peace.
"We have waited for your approach since the rising of
Esto," he said. "Pray hear us, for your safety."
"You are Vel Ragan," said Brin, "and this your Wit-
ness, Onnar. You come from the Fire-Town, and you
( 148 )
er
his
of
sleep-spy upon my child Narneen."
"This is true," said the scribe, "but I think Narneen, that
excellent Witness, has also told you that we mean friend-
ship and we do not lie."
"Trust us both," begged Onnar. She kept looking about
anxiously. "Come to this tree," she said, "where we can sit
down like a Family at their food."
"What are you afraid of?" asked Diver.
"The creatures of the clan Pentroy," said Vel Ragan. His
voice had a rich timbre, almost like Diver's; his gray eyes
flashed fire; I could guess what hand had guided the
firestone that burned his body.
"Are they safe . . . our Family
"Come and sit down."
?" I blurted out.
We sat down together under the tree, and Vel Ragan
looked keenly at Diver. "Let me see your face," he said.
Diver threw back his hood and removed his goggles. Vel
Ragan stared and gave a long sighing breath. "It is true
then. Strangers have come to Torin from the void."
"One stranger," said Diver, "and no longer so strange
thanks to the love and care of Brin's Five. My poor
companions still work in the islands. No doubt they think I
am dead."
"How many? An army?"
"Three," answered Diver, "a team of scholars."
Vel Ragan drew out from his sleeve a worn sheaf of
willow paper: Diver's drawings, copied first at Cullin, then
in other parts of Torin.
"Yes," said Brin. "Diver made these drawings and I
wrote on them, at Stone Brook. But now, tell us your
warning."
"Hear us out," said Onnar, "and do nothing rash." So we
heard them out, although the tale they had to tell was a
terrible one, outweighing any sorrow or danger we had
passed through till now.
"We came to the fair after questioning Narneen on the
( 149 )
river," said Vel Ragan. "It was only then we were certain
that this child was the one named in the Stone Brook
drawings. We believed that your Luck was the one we
sought, and we had heard tales of the landing all down the
river. We had planned to go to Cullin or even Stone Brook
itself, but in fact we landed our glider at Wellin with a
damaged runner and took up the search from there twelve
days ago. There was plenty to hear. The Strangler had left
a trail much wider than Brin's Five. So we came on to the
fair and gleaned a few snippets of gossip out of the Bird
Clan, and at last the news today of your good fortune. But
before that time, about the first hour of Esder shine, or
what would be night, Onnar was called by Narneen. The
child, as you know, is a powerful Witness, destined for a
great career in this strange art if she desires it. Narneen had
a dreadful tale to tell. The members of your Five have been
surprised, sleeping, by seven armed vassals of Tiath
Gargan. The Harper was absent from the tent when this
happened, but we could not warn him in time and he was
taken when he returned. No-be still and listen! No one
has been harmed or even questioned, although Mamor and
the Harper are bound and gagged. Narneen lies, feigning
sleep; Gwin nurses the baby. The vassals are simply
waiting for the return of Garl Brinroyan; they are dis-
guised, but make no secret of their allegiance to the Grea
Elder. There are four among the seven who say that they
have a score to settle ... your Luck has already dealt
roughly with them on Hingstull and in Cullin town."
I could not speak after this for the fear and helpless anger
that I felt. But Diver had flushed. His blue eyes blazed, and
he was as keenly alert as when he was flying the Tomarvan.
"The score will be settled, believe me!" he said. H
peered around at the field and the tent far off and the fe
passers-by.
"Are there any Pentroy vassals keeping watch outside the
tent?"
( ISO )
"No," said Vel Ragan, "not that we have seen."
"There are only seven," said Brin slowly. "It is a thread I
never expected to unravel. These creatures have united in
Gulgarvor, a seven-fold cord, a covenant to Derform a
certain task."
"My capture," said Diver He felt under his cloak and
asked Onnar, "How are thev armed?"
" hev have knives and the two ho stand at the door of
the tent have a bludgeon and a limed net."
"Nothing else?"
"They mean to take you alive," observed Vel Ragan.
"Diver," I croaked. "Blacklock will help you!"
"Against his own clan's vassals?" inquired Vel Ragan.
"That I would like to see."
"It is a different branch of Pentroy," said Brin. "Diver
shall we send for this helD?"
"We need help, that's certain," said Diver, "and Black-
lock would do it ... but time is short. I will not have those
creatures in the tent any longer. It is a long way back to the
I thought of the fairgrounds e had crossed, two or three
weaver's miles at least; I felt myself running the distance.
"Not so far!" said Brin. She pointed to the southern
corner of the tented field, where there stood a wooden
tower, decorated with drooping flags. A mirror flashed
from its summit and I realized hat it as: the Fourth
"The voice wire!" I cried. We all explained at once.
"Thank heaven for fire-metal-maoic!" said Diver. "Will it
"Can e use it?" I asked. "We have never seen a voice
Vel Ragan laughed. "I have seen too many," he said,
"but none so welcome as this one!
We left Onnar watching under the tree and made our
5~
( 151 )
way quickly back through the outskirts of the cloth market
and across a patch of nettle bushes to the tower. There was
a small tent of Bird Clan blue green at the tower's base and
it was sealed with waxed threads bearing a warning mes-
sage. Diver snapped this seal impatiently, and we crowded
into the empty tent. Ragan stayed back however, peering
up at the tower.
"Still firmly in place," he said over our shoulders, "but
how are the cups?"
Brin adjusted two window flaps, and we saw it. Two
innocent looking clay cups, for all the world like ordinary
drinking cups, but covered at the base with a fine mesh of
wire and linked by a thick cord to a leather bag on a pole.
"Where is the outlet?" demanded the scribe. He came
past us and took up the cups in a familiar way.
"In the pavilion? Well, we'll see what the Bird Clan staff
do when it is all over . . ." He pulled on the linking cord
and rattled the two cups together so that they made a
hollow clopping sound.
"I was wondering how you would do that," murmured
Diver.
Vel Ragan went on clopping at intervals, and I found
suddenly that I did not believe in the voice wire. It was
impossible that what we did here could be sent to the Bird
Clan pavilion. Then from one of the cups there came a loud
rattle. Vel Ragan immediately pressed the cup over one
ear-which I thought was a very brave thing to do-and
proceeded to speak resonantly into the other.
"Are you there? Bird Clan pavilion ... answer!" There
was a breathing sound, another voice, and he held the cup
from his ear. The voice spoke from the cup, magically, and
it was a real voice, a voice in accent and tone quite
unmistakeable.
"Who calls? What cheeky wretch is bothering us in the
course of our duty? Who is that, I'd like to know?"
( 152 )
Brin and Diver and I all shouted together.
"A No!"
Diver stepped up and took the apparatus from Vel
Ragan. "Ablo, this is Garl Brinroyan calling from the
Fourth Mark."
"Excellence, I hear you wonderfully clearly," said Ablo,
"but you had no need to check. The escort is doing a fine
job of protecting our winnings!"
"Good Ablo, you have served us well," said Diver, "and
now you must render the greatest service of all. You must
save my Family from peril!"
We heard
anything .
"Then leave the senior member of the Pentroy escort in
charge and take the next in rank with you to the tent of
Murno Pentroy. Tell the Highness himself or Fer Utovan-
gan that my Family is imprisoned in their tent near the
cloth market by a Gulgarvor who seek my own capture.
Tell them that the one who has ordered this deed is the
same who lost a silver ship. And as proof of my good faith
say all this in the name of the Maker of Engines."
Diver said more, giving the location of the tent and
schooled Ablo in the message, which he seized quickly.
"Go then," said Diver, "our prayers go with you. We
will not wait Blacklock's coming but make shift to free those
who are trapped by ourselves, if we can."
Then Diver returned the cups to Vel Ragan, who broke
the link and left us forlorn and still helpless in the stuffy
tent. Diver was filled with energy, like a twisted thread or a
metal spring. He led us, very fast, to a place behind the
patch of nettles. We were much closer to our tent and in a
desolate corner of the fairground where no one came.
"What weapon have you?" asked the scribe. Diver
brought out his stun-gun; Vel Ragan whistled in admira-
tion and produced a wooden box from his sleeve.
Ablo gasp. "Excellence, anything,
( 153 )
"This fires a dart - . ." he said. A metal tube with a
wooden grip lay in the box.
"The tent has a blind side," said Diver. "I think the
brutes are watching the door and the eastern wall."
"Correct. Narneen, the ancient, and the baby lie on that
blind side," said Vel Ragan.
"Then Mamor and the Harper are tied to the tree,"
guessed Diver.
"You see it well.11
"What is your plan?" asked Brin.
"The stun-gun?" I whispered,
"Dangerous in a confined space," said Diver. "They
must be lured out."
"You will not budge them," said Vel Ragan. "They will
not stir until they can take you, trussed, to their cruel liege.
Their own lives depend upon it. Surprise is their main
weapon."
"Then they have lost the game already," said Brin, "for
they cannot surprise us. Diver ... I have a plan if the
scribe Vel will cooperate."
She told the plan, which seemed good, and then I went
with her, back to Onnar under the tree. "Narneen asks if
you are coming," said Onnar, "and I have told her not yet.
But I cannot lie to this Witness ... I can barely shut her
out."
"Do it, I pray," said Brin. "The less she knows the
better."
She outlined the plan to Onnar, then we moved on. We
went to the northern edge of the field, dropped into one of
the ditches circling the ground and made our way crawling
through nettles and dead leaves to come up on the tent's
blind side. It took less time than we expected. The tent
loomed ahead, and we crawled again, from one clump of
bushes to another. Brin took her amulet on its chain and
caught the suns' light, flashing towards the field and the
( 154 )
a
e
t
in
or
e
place where Diver waited with Vel Ragan. She handed me
Diver's knife and drew out her own, pressing a hand to her
mouth for silence.
There was an empty time of waiting; then we saw two
figures approaching the tent, passing among the trees and
the other tents as they came. Diver, still in his gray silk
cloak, stumbled along oddly, pushed and urged by Vel
Ragan. They came on until they stood before our tent's
closed flap door. Then Vel Ragan shouted in a harsh
ringing voice, "Gulgarvor ... I have your prize!"
He wrenched back Diver's cloak, to show his blue suit,
and shoved him to the ground, on his knees. Diver's hands
appeared to be bound. "Here is the devil for you!" cried
Vel Ragan. "Here is your release!"
The scene already attracted attention from the few
weavers and idlers who were not at the fair. They stood
peering around trees, poking heads from flap doors. Vel
Ragan was a frightening figure; his scarred face was
revealed, and he held a long knife in one hand.
"Bargain for your devil, Gulgarvor! Pay ransom or the
devil will die!" He flashed the knife high in the air and
made as if to stab Diver, who cried out piteously in hi's own
language.
For the first time there was movement from our tent and
the sound of voices.
"Hold . . ." A single figure stepped out; one of the
intruders, heavily built, blinking in the sunlight. I thought
I recognized the face of a vassal from the convoy, one who
had gone back for the Galtroy litter.
"Not so fast, friend," said the creature, thumbs in its red
belt. "Perhaps you have something there we need." Anoth-
er stranger came out of the tent, by the back flap, and sidled
towards Vel Ragan in a circle.
"No closer, or the devil dies and takes his secrets with
him."
( 155 )
"Who are you to tangle with devils, friend?" asked
Red-Belt, taking a step closer.
"A poor adventurer," said Vel Ragan smoothly.
Diver, groveling, cried out again, as if in fear of his life
and suddenly the members of the Gulgarvor all burst from
the tent together and rushed upon Vel Ragan. I saw Diver
and Vel begin to run, drawing them away, then I was
inside the tent with Brin, on the blind side.
They were all there, just as we had been told; Narneen
sat up screaming and Mamor and the Harper were straining
at their bonds. I hacked at their ropes while Brin closed and
weighted the back flap and stood to the door, speaking to
comfort Old Gwin and Tomar as best she could. Mamor
wrenched out his gag and did the same for the Harper, as I
freed their feet.
"What was that, for the fire's sake?" roared Mamor.
"A game to draw them off . . ." I said.
"Help Diver!" said Brin. "Mamor ... Roy ... can you
fight?" I rushed to the door, but Mamor held me back.
"Stay here. Is that the scribe helping us?" He plunged
out into the daylight, followed by the Harper, and at last I
was able to get a look at the struggle.
Diver had his stun-gun out and had already felled one
vassal as he drew away with Vel Ragan to the open ground
at the end of the camping place. But the bond of Gulgarvor
made them heedless of any danger, and Vel Ragan, un
steady on his lame leg, stumbled and fell in their path.
They were swarming onto him; Diver rushed back, stun
ning two more, and dragged the scribe to his feet again.
Diver, speaking plainly in Moruian, warned them to keep
back, but they did not heed him. Then Mamor and the
Harper joined the fray, each seizing a vassal from behind
and wrestling. Diver had used his stun-gun with measured
force; already those that he felled had bounced up again,
and as he altered the setting two of the lar est brutes leaped
9 1
( 156 )
upon him. Vel Ragan, behind a tree now, fired his weapon,
and I saw Red-Belt, the leader, clutch a wounded arm,
pierced by a dart. Diver had one of his assailants down with
a chopping blow, but the other was pressing him dange-
rously. A crowd was gathering now, to watch this strange,
long battle.
Narneen crawled to my side and said, "There is a flying
machine . . ."
Blacklock flew in low, with the big wind-blade churning
the air and tossing the treetops. The crowd scattered and
crouched, but the members of the Gulgarvor still fought on
as if possessed. I saw the machine land on open ground then
a present danger made me cry out for Brin. Red-Belt and
another vassal, who had an arrow skin-sewn in blue on its
upper arm, were racing upon us, determined to regain the
shelter of the tent or seek hostages. Brin sprang to the door
again, pushing me aside; she carried a loom board as a
weapon and I heard Red-Belt grunt as she used it.
She held it out of the tent, prodding and parrying the
assaults of Red-Belt and Arrow.
"Devils!" panted Red-Belt. "Nest of devils!"
"Keep back!" cried Brin. "I charge you in the winds'
name!"
"Repent!" growled Arrow. "Make clean, mountain
weaver! Give up your bond with the Foreigner!"
"Keep back from my Family, my children and my home
tent that you have defiled!" said Brin, in a voice that made
me shudder. "Or I swear by Eenath I will strike you
down!"
Then she struck at them again, more fiercely still, and I
felt Old Gwin come closer, placing the whimpering Tomar
in my arms. She drew back the flap until she stood at Brin's
side and in a sharp chanting voice she cried out, "Keep
back, for the fire of Eenath has consumed your souls! We
know you all, and you are all accursed! You will go down
e
p
e
d
d
( 157 )
I
into fire and have Gulgarvor enough, for your very bones
will be consumed to ashes . . ."
The pair of them, Red-Belt and Arrow, halted for a
moment at the ancient's curse; then they came on, and Old
Gwin dipped into a leather sack on her wrist and flung a
handful of dust in their faces.
"Narneen," she shrieked, "call the names of the Gulgar-
vor for all the world to know!"
" VARADON!" cried Narneen, kneeling by me in the
darkness, and I echoed her cry and so did Brin. The leader
gave a cry of pain and surprise, for Old Gwin was throwing
the dust of the fireweed.
it MEETAL!" cried Narneen'. The vassal marked with the
arrow reeled back, and its eyes were stung with the dust.
it ARTHO!" cried Narneen. The two, backing away from
the tent, half-blind, fell over another vassal coming to their
aid. Brin, holding the loom board and Gwin with her sack
of pepper, edged after them. I stood up, holding Tomar,
and took Narneen's hand and we stepped out into the
sunlight.
"TRANJE!" cried Narneen.
"Tranie!" echoed Brin and Gwin and myself at the tops
of our voices. A vassal, wrestling with the Harper stood
back amazed.
44 TROY!" cried Narneen.
"Troy!" The shout rose up even louder, for now the
Harper and Mamor had joined in the naming of the
Gulgarvor. The wretched Troy broke loose from fighting
with Diver. Mamor's opponent, still not named, rushed at
Narneen, and Gwin threw another handful of dust.
44 ALLOO!" cried Narneen.
"Alloo!" The cry went up on all sides.
At last the Gulgarvor faltered, and all rushed for open
ground. They slammed full-tilt into Blacklock and Fer and
two sturdy members of the black and white escort who had,
somehow crowded into the flying machine Dabkan. They
( 158 )
V
were flung down and herded into a ring, wild-eyed, panting
sweat-streaked creatures, some unarmed, some clutching
weapons ... they looked like devils indeed,
it BANO!" Narneen cried out the last name, and it was
repeated. Then we saw that one member of the Gulgarvor
Jay still on the ground, apart from its companions.
Blacklock clapped Diver on the back and said in a
matter-of-fact tone, "At your call, Garl Brinroyan. But
with the power of Brin's Five, I see you have flown past this
net. "
"Let us make all secure!" said Fer. He gestured to the
members of the escort, who carried ropes.
"What will you do?" asked Diver suddenly.
"Bind up these creatures," said Blacklock. "What, did
you think I meant to string them up? My nickname is not
Gargan, like my uncle's, I promise you."
With the help of Mamor and the Harper, the six living
members of the Gulgarvor were bound all together and sat
on the grass in the sunlight of the New Year, with their
fallen comrade. Fer walked about and bade the members of
the crowd go about their business and refrain from watch-
ing a private quarrel.
I sat on the grass too, at a safe distance, with Tomar,
Narneen and Old Gwin, still shivering and muttering from
the ordeal. Vel Ragan came slowly out from behind his tree
and waved; the Witness Onnar came running to his side.
They approached our group hesitantly, then Onnar held
out her hands and Narneen ran to her. It was a moment, in
all the terrible violence and confusion, that I was often to
see in my thoughts. I felt as if some piece of weaving was
complete; the last shuttle had gone through a certain panel
and the pattern was ready to be seen. Brin came to join us
and took Tomar in her arms.
"Let it be known that Vel Ragan and Onnar have saved
this Family!" she said. She clasped hands with each of them
in turn.
( 159 )
"It was the power of Narneen that made it possible," said
Vel Ragan. He was a strange, shy person, made harsh, I
guessed, by what life had brought him, including his
disfigurement. His mind was the keenest of any Moruian I
have ever known, for all the ways of city living and politics
and the relations between one person and another. In this
he surpassed even Nantgeeb, who was before everything a
scholar and a ruling spirit, who could see only one way at a
time.
Now, on the fairground at Otolor, Old Gwin took the
edge off the day by squinting crossly up at Vel Ragan. "I
forgive you the sleep-spying, young scribe," she said, "and
wish you a Happy New Year."
We returned to our tent and purified it, and I had the joy
of seeing Blacklock, the hero himself, together with Fer,
that legendary flier, under our roof branches, sitting among
us. But the New Year was not a happy one and all the
soothing talk ringing in my head made the hurt and
confusion I felt worse instead of better. I stumbled out of
the tent and saw the members of the Gulgarvor sitting
under a tree, dazed as twirlers, and I felt a stab of hopeless
pity for the creatures. Brin and Blacklock had been at pains
to tell Diver of the threat that they presented; they would
never cease to threaten him with capture until death took
every one of them.
Their naming, the death of their comrade, the offers that
had been made to them secretly by Blacklock, a member of
clan Pentroy, for pardon and release . . . nothing could
sever them from the bond of Gulgarvor. They could not
return to Tiath Avran Pentroy with the task incomplete;
they were outcasts.... Varadon, Meetal, Artho, Tranje,
Troy, Alloo and Bano. Even the dead member, Bano, was
not released from the seven-fold cord, and indeed the spirit
of this member weighed upon all of us. Bano, an omor like
Meetal, Artho, and Alloo, had died at Diver's hands, not
from stun-gun or dart or cudgel but from the single
( 160 )
chopping blow with which Diver had felled her to the
ground. The killing lay on him like a shadow; he had a
special aversion to killing a female, even a strong, fierce
omor, seeking his capture.
As I sat on the grass by myself, looking as dazed as the
prisoners, Blacklock, Fer and Brin came out of the tent with
Diver. They were talking about boats and plans, but it
seemed like so much of the grown-up chatter I had heard so
often that it went literally over my head.
"Dorn . . ." it was Brin standing over me.
"Dorn Brinroyan," said Fer. "The escort will stay here so
we have vacant places. Would you like to fly with me back
to the field?"
To fly ... in Blacklock's machine! Part of me was ready
to jump up, but instead I found myself coming up from the
ground wearily and unsteadily.
"Thank you," I stammered, "but I would rather stay on
the ground this time."
He smiled, green eyes twinkling, and exchanged one of
those grown-up glances with Brin. "It has been too much
for him," she said.
I was ashamed and sad and felt tears stinging my eyes as I
stood looking at the grass. There was too much I could not
bear thinking about, from Jebbal to the Gulgarvor. I turned
my back on the whole of the New Year and went into the
tent. I lay down on top of a sleeping bag beside Narneen,
and the last thing I heard was my sib, the Witness, cracking
nuts with her teeth.
Isle Oi heavily but not long enough, and I seemed to hear
the New Year Shout in the depths of my sleep. I woke with
Diver gripping my arm . . . the Great Sun had gone down,
and the people had shouted to see the Far Sun rise up
beside it at least two hours before. Now the fair was in a
sleepy stage of rejoicing.
"Come, put on your gray cloak again, and we will walk
( 161 )
through the fair to the river," said Diver. I looked abou
and hardly recognized my own tent for it had been strippe
and packed while I slept. There were strange faces there
three weavers had been hired to help with the packin
under the sharp eyes of Gwin and the Harper.
"Blacklock has hired us a boat," explained Diver.
I went to the water bag, luckily still unemptied and dre
out water for my face. "Wait!" I said. "What will become o
the Ulgan's barge? Has Gordo Beethan come to the fair as i
was promised?"
Diver shook his head. "He has not been seen. Mamo
arranged for a Family to take the barge back to Cullin."
"I hope no evil has come to him."
They were calling outside the tent now, "Dorn!" an
"Diver!" so we went out. Blacklock and Fer and the escor
had gone; the Gulgarvor were no longer beneath the tree
Only Brin's Five stood there in Esder light beside a wheele
handcart, which showed that this Family had come up i
the world. Once the tent was down and folded, the hire
helpers set off on the paved ring-road, and we turned t(
walk through the fair.
We went into the cloth market and halted before a lace
stall while Old Gwin examined the lace and collected
credits from the stall keeper for some of her own lace that
had been sold. I saw the Family, tired after their ordeal,
with Tomar sleeping on Brin's back, for he would not ride
with the others now that she had returned. There stood
Harper Roy, tuning the good harp over his shoulder and
Diver muffled up, with his head bent to hide his eyes, and
Narneen leaning sleepily into the folds of his cloak.
J stood at the back with Mamor, and I saw us, side
side, making part of the Family.
"What has become of the Gulgarvor?" I asked.
"Blacklock's escort and the Town Watch took charge of
them."
"Will they be ... put down?"
( 162 )
I
"It might be kinder!" said Mamor grimly.
"No!" I shuddered; the idea of a kind death was horrible
to me.
"None would do it," said Mamor, "except their own
liege. They will be parted ... some sent north and some to
the Fire-Town. Murno Pentroy's people will see to it."
Brin led us through the cloth market and the stands for
rope-twisting and another place for eating and drinking that
we had never visited before.
"Where are we going?" I called. The others laughed.
"To the Sun Carpet, where else?" said the Harper.
"Your friend Blacklock has a turn coming up!" said
Mamor.
The press of people at the fair was greater than ever and
still their faces were happy, the mood was one of friend-
ship. But the light of Esder, strong yet silvery, made them
strange, a parade of ghosts and shadows, revelling in some
other world. I caught a gleam of Diver's,eyes under his
hood as the crowd jostled him.
I drew up to him and took his hand. "How does it really
seem to you, among all these Moruians?"
He sighed and shook his head. "Very strange . He
threw back his hood and deliberately held up his head. For
an instant, as he looked about, I saw what he saw: thin
bodies, angular; faces that were long, peaked, shadowed,
stripped to the bone or tilted and more firmly fleshed in
youth. And the eyes ... wrapping around the head in the
way we admired, wide apart, in deep sockets, sometimes
skewed to the sides in the look we called Gastil or
South-North; eyes wide open, gleaming, or glazed with
tipsy-mash and lack of sleep, eyes with thick natural lashes
or lashes oiled into spikes, or painted white for the New
Year. A flickering, glistening night-forest of eyes.
I tried to imagine a crowd of Diver's people, and I could
hardly do it: skins of every color from black to a whitish
pallor; blue, forward-looking eyes . . . and what other
( 163 )
colors might they have? Red eyes? Purple? Orange? Short
folk and tall and the females oddly shaped; forests of curly
hair like a crooked fleece or the wigs of grandees; all the
shapes and sizes of Man milling about under a light even
stranger than that of Esder, the impossible light of some
reflecting dead little world called the Moon. It made me
laugh, and I tried to tell Diver what I had imagined.
"Well, you are not far wrong," he said, smiling, "but if I
have the colors right, there are no red eyes or purple or
orange. Besides, Blacklock's eyes are nearly orange to my
way of thinking." So he went on to tell me the colors of the
eyes of men, and to point out those that came closest to
Earth colors among our Family and the passers-by.
We came to the edge of the Sun Carpet, and there was a
viewing stand filled with people from the Bird Clan, with a
place in the middle for Diver. He put up his hood and
greeted the Mattroyan and his child and Deel Giroyan,
with an arm bandaged from a hard landing in Gwervanin.
We looked around for Ablo, but he was not to be seen; so
we sat comfortably and examined the great dancing floor.
The Sun Carpet is one of the wonders of Otolor; it is not a
true woven carpet but a huge tufted rug, made in sections
like a flat loaf divided, on wicker frames that can be easily
replaced. The colors are red, turquoise, yellow and tan in a
waving pattern, with motifs of double circles for the two
suns.
Harps and flutes were sounded, and the troupe of
skippers who had been performing whisked away. There
was a flutter of the familiar black and white; we cheered for
Blacklock, and there he was . . . in bright orange, of all
colors! Diver leaned down to me and whispered, "To
match his eyes," and I laughed until I choked, and Mamor
patted me sternly between the shoulders. First of all
Blacklock did the triple leap-which meant springing over a
series of high frames; then he rode the circle-a wheel with,
( 164 )
foot pedals in the center. In all these feats he was accompa-
nied by members of the escort so that the whole perform-
ance was finished and perfect, like a dance or lace pattern.
At the end of each feat, he beckoned to the crowd to try the
same thing, and certain town grandees or clan folk, includ-
ing two from clan Dohtroy who had flown unluckily in the
Bird Clan, came forward and performed well. But none
were so fine as Blacklock himself, who had a sweetness, a
precision, a gift for pausing and seeming about to topple
and coming upright again, so that his audience lau hed and
gasped.
For the finale, the escort brought on a whole raft of fleece
cushions until the Sun Carpet was nearly covered. Black-
lock stood alone, and the escort clambered on his shoulders;
two stood still, then more clambered up until he supported
a rack of six, seven persons, and a little one, Spinner
herself, went up and was balanced on the top. Then
Blacklock began to groan and rock like a tree in the wind,
and the others with him; and with a final whoop, while we
laughed ourselves into tears, the whole structure came
toppling down upon the cushions. But more was to come
for Blacklock stood before our viewing stand and gestured;
we knew who it was he wanted. Diver climbed down,
grinning, and stood in the midst of the Sun Carpet, side by
side with Blacklock, their arms linked to make the base for a
double rack. Up went the escort, placing themselves differ-
ently this time, six, seven, eight, nine, eleven and Spinner
was the twelfth. Diver, taking his cue from Blacklock,
began to groan, and Blacklock echoed and the whole crazy
rack swayed; the crowd hallooed with delight and down
they all came. Everyone even Old Gwin was doubled up
with mir
"Well, it is childish stuff," she said. "I don't know why I
laugh ... except for that cheeky sprig of Pentroy. And if
Hunter Geer has shaken Blacklock bv the hand, well, I
have had him in my tent and well-acquainted with the Luck
of my own Family."
Then Blacklock left the Sun Carpet, and there was a dive
for the fleece cushions, which he left as pickings for the
crowd; soon there was not one to be seen.
Brin gave us the sign, and we left the stand to go to our
boat. I saw, as we left, that the Sun Carpet was being
removed to reveal the bare brown earth under its beautiful
frames, but I did not realize what this meant until we were
some way off, on the western edge of the circle. Diver had
come back, panting, from his feat.
"Wait!" said Harper Roy, drawing us to a halt. His sharp
ears had caught the jingle of shell bracelets. We turned back
at once and huddled together in shadow beside an empty
stall; Mamor lifted Narneen to the counter shelf to see
better.
There was the same furtive jingle of shells as the twirlers
came to the dancing place, then fire shot up in the center of
the circle. Petsalee! There he stood once more, gnarled and
long and brown, dipping his hands in and out of the cool
flames. There was an enormous host of twirlers-three
bands at least-but the Leader was Petsalee, and he began
to chant at once in his queer, penetrating voice.
"I am returned from, the dead!"
And each time the twirlers echoed his name, "Petsalee!"
I am returned from the grip of the Enemy!"
I am returned from the river depths!"
I am returned from the black barge of death!"
I am returned from the Strangler!"
I was spared, and my spirit warriors were taken!"
I was spared to do the work of evil!"
I was spared to betray Eenath!"
I was spared to watch by the river!"
The beat had quickened, and the heels of the twirlers
were thudding upon the earth; in the shadow we quivered
( 166 )
( 167 )
like a taut thread, knowing too well the meaning of this
chant.
"Avert!" shrieked Petsalee, raising his staff. "Avert the
evil might of the Strangler!"
"I am purged by the Twirlers' Fire!"
"I am freed by the power of Eenath!"
"I declare the truth to the land of Torin .
Brin turned us all away, and we went through the crowd
pursued by the rhythmical shrieks of the twirlers, who
spun in ecstasy and fell and rose again. The message they
were chanting rang in our ears as we made for the south
wharf.
"A spirit warrior fell down!"
"A noble spirit has come upon Torin!"
"A hero has come, a hero who flies like a bird!"
"A hero is here among us . . ."
There was a large keel-boat waiting, and it bore our
Cullin banner from the Bird Clan at its masthead. The
captain and two crew members, all out of Otolor, bowed
humbly, and we saw the reason: the Bird Clan winnings
were safely stowed aboard. The captain handed us a
message skein from Fer Utovangan, bidding us a safe
journey in Blacklock's name and assigning us a lodging, the
house of a wig-maker in Rintoul. We trooped aboard and
began to make ourselves comfortable with our own furnish-
ings, for the handcart had also arrived. It made me begin to
understand what it might be like to be rich: work was done
for you. Food had been laden and even flowers in a water
frame.
We were about to cast off when a voice shouted, "Hold!
Hold please, I pray you in the winds' name!"
The sailors stood still. What now? I asked and prayed for
nothing more to happen. A plump figure in a townee robe
was struggling along the wharf with a small wicker travel-
ling basket.
"What do you want~" called Brin.
"Excellence ... Noble escort . . ." At last I saw who it
was.
"Garl Brinroyan ... take me with you. I have striven at
the Bird Clan every spring for ten years and never served a
winner till now. I am discreet and handy and would rather
serve a . . . a spirit warrior than go back to my cross-
cousin's woodwork shop . . ."
Diver looked at Brin, who smiled, and he said, "Come
aboard, good Ablo."
So Ablo scrambled aboard, and the boat was cast off. We
set sail into the New Year with a light northeast wind, and
overhead a silvery bank of cloud, like fish scales, drifted
across the sky hiding the light of Esder.
( 168 )
EVERY JOURNEY ON THE RIVER is different, as I had learned,
and our circumstances had changed. We were rich, we had
friends, we even had servants. Slowly, slowly it came to
Brin's Five that we did not ever need to weave again; we
could, as the Maker of Engines had suggest ed, take land or
become townees in some place on the Troon. For three
days the adults enjoyed the sun of the New Year, then they
could not refrain from putting up the largest of our looms as
before, and Gwin got out her lace frames. But the spark of a
new life had settled behind the eyes of the Harper, for one.
How would it be, he asked now and then, if the Family had
a bird farm, with a tent or a fixed house or both, whatever
they pleased? How would it be if Mamor had a bird-boat to
carry the birds from the farm, and the wild birds he might
trap in the eastern hunting grounds, near Rintoul? Old
Gwin was scornful.
"How would it be if wool-deer grew wings?" she said.
She was still mourning the loss of our spinners. They
had gone with the Gulgarvor; a rack had fallen across their
basket when Mamor was subdued in the tent; some had
died, some had run off. Only Momo, the largest, had had
the sense to crawl up the tree, and Old Gwin had coaxed
her down again and had her alone in a cage beside her on
( 169 )
the deck. Ablo assured Gwin that good spinners were to
found in Linlor, but she would not believe him.
The mat-loom did not sound at all on this journey;
from my usual laziness but because I was sick. Perhaps
had a little to do with the motion of the keel boat, whic
was greater than that of the barge, or perhaps it was so
town fever from Otolor. At any rate I dragged myse
miserably from the deck to the hold, so as not m
anything, but by the fourth or fifth day I was flat on t
box-bed in the hold, burning and shivering. I gaze
through a small window over the Troon, and the membe
of the Family took turns sitting by me. I had time to thin
too much time, and I believed that my sickness was
sickness of the mind as well as the body; it was born
excitement and violence. I first dreamed here of Jebbal
flying machine twisting to earth and of the dark faces of t
Gulgarvor.
Up above me, on deck, life went on. Tomar fell ove
board and was rescued by Mamor, but not before the litt
wretch had begun to swim. Every day Mamor set Tom
and Narneen swimming round the boat for practice, to sa
himself another wetting. Diver practiced his speech and h
woven script and taught Harper Roy the "Song of t
Young Harper Fallen in Battle", which, in Moruia
became a great favorite in the Harper's song sack, know
far and wide.
I can lay out, on paper, three versions of this same son
the true words, the sense of it or paraphrase that Diver to]
the Harper, and the words written into Moruian. I do n
know that the Harper's listeners will ever have the re
sense of this strange, sweet, violent song. A lone harper,
young male, setting out for war deliberately, is somethin
that belongs far in our warlike past, in the time of th
Torlogans and the clan wars. And the loneliness of it . .
"one faithful sword" and so on. But the beauty,sing
through very well; who could chose between "wild harp
( 170 )
and "turu geer" or "rorogaban torin-na" and "land of song"?
One line, of course, caused great difficulty; it was impossi-
ble for the Harper to sing anything resembling, "His
father's sword he has girded on" and when Diver suggest-
ed, "His mother's sword", the Harper jibbed at that too. So
the young harper went into battle "with weapons bor-
rowed from his Family", solving the problems of decency
and fire-metal-magic.
Brin and Narneen sat by me one morning, and we spoke
of Vel Ragan and Onnar, who were following us to Rintoul
in their own sailboat. We were becalmed at the time and
thought it must be the same with them. Narneen had a, tale,
half-i4nderstood, from Onnar, of Vel Ragan's friend and
former liege, who had been a great leader in the Fire-Town,
then had been disgraced and dismissed from his work with
the Town Five. Tsorl was his name, and he had gone not
long before to Rintoul to study some strange new metal,
which Vel Ragan guessed must be Diver's ship. But Vel
Ragan had no trust for the Elders and the Great Elder in
particular, and what he had seen on the river and in Otolor
made him fear for the safety of his friend Tsorl. I said this
leader's name to myself, after this, for he was called
Tsorl-U-Tsorl or Tsorl Alone; he would have no family
name at all and not even a nickname, which is valued
among ordinary folk. It seemed to me a proud and brave
title. Could I be Dorn-U-Dorn, ever?
We had left behind the Pentroy lands, and from Otolor
we had been sailing through the country of clan Wentroy.
We came, with some work on the capstans, to Linlor wharf,
and by now my sickness was lifting. I came up on deck and
saw that Linlor was a sweet, welI-swept town, smaller than
Otolor but graceful and white, a foretaste perhaps of the
townee districts in Rintoul. It lay in the midst of tamed
lands and orchards on the west bank of the Troon, which
was broad at this point.
There was a tall fixed house not far from the town in fine
( 171 )
gardens; it was the home of the Wentroy Elder, Guno
Gunroyan, whose reputation for bad temper and cussed-
ness was as great as her reputation for justice and fair-
dealing. She was called "Guno Deg", which is difficult to
translate, for it means Old Cross-Patch, but it is a term of
grudging affection, almost a loving nickname.
Ablo took Old Gwin into the town, the pair of them
tottering a little on dry land, and found out a place to buy
new spinners. We put on new clothes, made from out
winnings, for the Harper and Brin had been busy witt.
sewing; they had taken Diver's measure, and he looked ver)
fine. In fact our craft and our Family brought inquiries frory
the Town Five. Brin had the captain give it out that w(
were rich weavers from Otolor come to take up an inheri
tance in the delta. Every day hawkers and food-sellers an(
flower-sellers came down to the wharf offering us th6
wares, but old habits die hard and we shopped sparingly
A wind sprang up after two days, and we made haste t,
leave; but just at the moment we were about to cast off
Narneen, who had been sitting silent by the mast, ran t,
Brin.
"Wait," she said.,"Please wait for Onnar and Vel Ragar
I know they are coming!"
"Child, we need the wind!" said Mamor.
"They have news! They have been trying to catch us f(
days! Wait ... we must wait!"
"You have been right before," said Brin seriously. So sl~,
bade the captain moor the boat again, and we waited.
was no more than two hours when a sailboat hove in sigh
far to the north, and came beating down upon the wini
Narneen clapped hands with relief.
Through Diver's glass we saw them, sailing experti,
with Vel Ragan at the tiller and Onnar handling the sail '
saw that sailing, in one's own small boat, might be a gre
thing; I thought of Valdin and Thanar and hoped they st
sailed in their boat on Salthaven. Vel Ragan came scuddh
( 172 )
JIL
up to the wharf and made haste to come aboard. There was
rd- something in his set face and fast limping gait that pierced
me with fear, the old fear of Tiath Gargan. He spoke
quickly with Brin and Diver, then drew into a close
discussion with all the adults. Narneen and I crept close
em
Ory
DM
keir
and heard at last.
6n.
for
she
It
ght,
ind;
tly,
it. I
reat
still
ling
The news was very bad. The members of the Gulgarvor
had been held in the citadel at Otolor, heavily bound and
under close guard. But one had a scrap of shell in its boot
sole and managed to work on a single rope until it parted
and freed another. Then, by lot apparently, or some other
secret choice, three went free-the omor Meetal, Artho and
Alloo-strangled all the rest of the Gulgarvor and strangled
two guards and made off. No one knew where they were,
but we all knew their purpose: to capture our Luck.
Blacklock and Fer had already flown out of Otolor when
this occurred, and the Town Watch, fearing Blacklock's
anger, might have hushed up the whole matter. But luckily
some members of the Bird Clan escort were still doing
guard duty and they made haste to tell Vel Ragan, so that
he might warn Brin's Five.
Diver's face had its old harsh look, which I had hoped not
to see aaain. " re we ell ahead of them?" he asked
"So I trust," said Vel Ragan. "We set out at once, the day
after the escape and passed no boat on the Troon that might
have carried them. All were local fishers, small and untrou-
bled. Onnar probed their thoughts if she could."
"What about a glider or a flying machine?" asked Brin.
"Hardly possible," said the scribe. "Even if they could
come by a glider, it would not take them all
"What do vou advise?" asked Diver.
7~
"Let us make what speed we can to Rintoul," said Ragan.
"They call it the city of peace. Weapons may not be worn
and vassals in particular may not appear in arms. Also,
there is one there who should know of your presence."
"Do vou mean Nantcreeb?" asked Brin for Vel Rauan
was already familiar with our story.
"That is impossible, if you will pardon me, Brin Brin-
royan," put in Ablo. "I have heard that the Maker of
Engines and even Blacklock himself are as good as exiled
from Rintoul."
"I did not mean Nantgeeb," said Vel Ragan. "I will
present you to Orn Margan Dohtroy, the Dohtroy Elder on
the Council of Five. Margan, the Peacemaker, holds land in
Tsagul and the west."
"Why should this Elder meet our Luck?" asked the
Harper.
"I think I know," said Mamor. "Do you, Diver?"
"Something to do with the Fire-Town?" asked Diver.
"By no means," said Vel Ragan, laughing, "but for your
own protection, Garl Brinroyan. To show that you exist
and that a clan member has set eyes on you!"
"You are a useful friend indeed," said Brin, "and we need
you in the great city."
Vel Ragan sighed and said: "Any news of the air ship?"
"A little," said Diver. "We have it from a hawker that it
lay over here at Linlor wharf for several days and met up
with a small boat from Rintoul. But we cannot tell what
this means. Could this be Nantgeeb?"
"I think not!" Vel Ragan said excitedly. He cursed under
his breath and began to speak, with some hesitation and
shyness, of his former liege Tsorl-U-Tsorl, Deputy of the
Fire-Town. '
"I believe Tsorl came in that small boat to Linlor to view
the air ship. This is bad news ... it means he saw the ship
before its capture."
"Why are you anxious for the safety of your friend?"
asked Brin.
"It is a strange story," said Vel Ragan, "and one that I
cannot bear to tell. But Tsorl set out for Rintoul to serve the
Great Elder by his superior knowledge of metals. He has
not been seen by his friends since then."
( 174 )
"You have asked in Rintoul?" said Diver.
"One friend, a Highness of Dohtroy, Tilje Paroyan, was
no more than a few days after him, yet he could not be
found. She was in Tiath Avran's own house."
"Whew ... I would rather keep out of that place!"
exclaimed the Harper.
"It is a dull place, so I hear," said the scribe. "Tiath is not
even his Family head ... Old Av still dodders about, and
there are various high-bred old females .
old threads."
"W , hat is their Luck?" I chipped in to the conversation.
1 can tell you that," said Old Gwin. "It is the dwarf
Urnat, that was born of a poor Five on Gurth Mountain,
west of Hingstull."
"Clan gossip!" said Mamor. "Vel Ragan, what do you
fear for your friend the Deputy?"
"I do not know," said Vel Ragan, "but the Strangler's
hand is in it. Tsorl hoped always for more freedom for the
Fire-Town, but this is a dream."
Then the talk went another way, but I sat by Vel Ragan
and Onnar and said to them, "Tsorl-U-Tsorl.... that is a
very proud name."
"The Deputy is a proud man," said Onnar.
Vel Ragan laid a hand on the hand of his Witness. "I last
heard his voice from Onnar," he said, "when she brought a
certain message. I pray we find him again."
Then we all took advantage of the wind and sailed
straight on, through the Wentroy lands, with Vel and
Onnar out-running our keel boat. We lay over sometimes,
and our friends came aboard and Vel Ragan instructed
Diver in all sorts of practical matters: the government in
Rintoul, the Council of One Hundred, the City Council,
the inner Council of the Five Elders, and their laws and
formalities. He told old tales of the Fire-Town and the last
clan war and the more distant history of Torin.
We kept up our discreet inquiries about the barge
. . a tangle of the
( 175 )
carrying the air ship, with the help of the captain and the
crew who knew the river. They knew something of our
business, and Diver's identity was an open secret, as it had
become at the Bird Clan. Ablo had been taken into our
counsel, and he was the one who finally made the discov-
ery. We lay over at a small hamlet on the eastern bank,
close to the rich delta lands, and he went to buy flowers. He
came panting back with a great load of yellow twin-suns
and a strange story. A barge had moored at this place,
Pelle, and the crew were taken in the night with sleeping
sickness.
At the same time, there were comings and goings of
strangers up the tiny stream, the Pel, that flows into the
Troon at this point. A net and hoist were seen, said to be of
metal, and a tall personage supervising the operation; the
farmers in the village had been paid to see nothing. The
crew on the barge and certain passengers woke cursing after
a sleep of a whole day and made haste towards Rintoul.
This told us enough: Nantgeeb had stolen the air ship at
this point, by the use of mind powers or simple sleeping
herbs. If Tsorl-U-Tsorl were on the barge examining the
ship, then he slept with the rest. Perhaps the anger of the
Great Elder had been vented on those who lost his prize.
Diver called to us one day, about two hours before the
setting of Esder, and we found him standing in the bow
with the captain. The land around us was particularly fine,
with huge river meadows of reeds, where the water-fowl
are bred. Not far away the Troon divided and divided
again, for we had come to the delta. Diver pointed ahead
and stared, like one in a dream; we all stared, and the dream
took hold of us. A tracery of fine lines grew and wavered in
the sky at the horizon, fading before our sight, then
becoming solid; floating, then reaching firmly to the earth.
It might have been a huge grove of white trees or the high
columns and ridges of a mountain range; then the light
changed and it was a net, a network of pure gold-the
( 176 )
I lar,
towers, the bastions, the spires, the skywalks, the sky-
houses of the great city of Rintoul
Rintoul has been raised up and cast down, even in my
own time, but the dream remains; the habit of perfection
and grace inspires those who build there, those who live in
the city, so that it regenerates and grows more beautiful
from age to age. It has had blood spilled in the broad white
streets, but they have been washed clean by letting in the
sea; towers have toppled and been replaced by more
resilient towers. There is no seamy underside to Rintoul, it
is all well-made, smoothly plastered, cleverly woven, with
winding basket ways to the higher levels, and the curtain
walls of former times gently folding into the skyhouses of
Rintoul is surrounded by beauty; as we sailed on through
the delta lands, I gazed at the fields and trees and water-
ways and wondered how it would be to live there. The land
was tamed and farmed but full of good places to fish or
swim; Old Gwin was taken by the flower fields; Brin and
Roy looked closely at the bird farms. Mamor was restless,
standing in the bow with Diver's glass as we sailed on the
eastern channel which is called Curweth. The city rode up
on our right hand, covering the world high and low, but
Mamor looked to the cast and on the next evening he gave a
"There now!" he said, handing me the glass. I stared eas
and saw a line of light; it heaved and shifted, as if the sk
"But what is it?" I asked, unable to look away. The line
had turned to a flat plain, unbelievably vast, stretching
further than the plain of Torin itself and shot with queer
"Ah," said Mamor, "that is the North Wind's own sib,
that quenches every fire. That is the Great Ocean Sea . . ."
That day Vel Ragan and Onnar took the sailboat ahead
of us through another channel into the city. We sailed on
and came in Esder light to the gardens and granaries and
round, low store houses on the outskirts of Rintoul. The
city lies between the sea and the land on the very edge of
the estuary; we sailed through the eastern gate, Curweth-
Ma, where the captain tied up the keel boat. Then we
crossed through the wharves to the city canal and sailed in
one of the painted pay-boats through miles of quiet streets.
I sat with Tomar and Narneen, and we counted ten
fountains, some still, some playing, in the dawn before
Esto, until we came to a landing stage near our street. We
walked a short distance and were received at the wig-
maker's house, which seemed as grand as the citadel at
Otolor. The lower level was a shop, full of wigs on stands,
like so many grandees' heads; we were shown by a servant
up a winding basket corridor to the third level and settled
into a large room, with a view of the ocean on one side and
the city on the other.
These two windows, glazed in many panes of white and
colored glass, with stiffened rope between the panes, are
something I remember whenever I think of those first days
in Rintoul. We sat before them a great deal, watching and
pointing; Old Gwin, who did not go out much, sat beside
the city window for hours at a time, watching and laughing
and shaking her head in a kind of bewilderment.
"Rintoul . she would say in disbelief. "We've come
to the city!"
The streets were never thronged with people, there was
never such a crush as there had been on the fairground at
Otolor, but we felt the presence of more, many more
people, all around us. I could not wait to go out and
explore, but at the same time I was nervous.
The Harper 'took me on a first expedition, and- we
became lost; we looked through a marvellous street of shops
containing leatherwork and bought some presents. Then
we read signs for the Fish Garden and set out for it but
( 178 )
V
missed our turning and came to a most beautiful street full
of paper garlands and pink windows. There were carrying
chairs with their curtains drawn, coming and going, and
the inhabitants of the street leaned from first floor windows
with their arms bare. The Harper whistled and grinned.
"Truly," he said, "this is no place for one so young." I
did not understand and we wandered on, taking in the
exquisite little shops for eating and drinking and gaming. A
pretty painted creature leaned from a window and threw a
credit to the Harper.
"Play us a folk song, dear Weaver!" it said.
"You must excuse us, Friend!" he replied and threw the
credit back again. The painted one caught it nimbly and
stuck out its tongue at us.
"But what do they do here?" I asked.
"Let me put it this way," said Harper Roy. "For these
folk it is Springtime all the year round!" So he bustled me
along to the end of the street, and there we found a member
of the Town Watch, an omor in a white robe, with the
insignia City Friend.
I The Harper greeted her and asked for directions. The
omor was kind and cheerful; she told us the way to the Fish
Garden.
"From the north?" she asked.
"Truly," I said, "from Cullin."
"I have kin still in Nedlor," said the omor. "When you
have seen the Fish Garden go down the long steps to the
Friends' Round. It is an open place where you can hear the
news and meet other visitors. You can buy a map of the
city.77
"And it's more respectable than this place . said the
Harper. He pointed to the street sign waving about above
our heads: it said Honey Dream Crescent, which sounded
to me more like the name of a sweetmeat.
"City ways!" shrugged the omor. "Not many folk come
here by accident."
( 179 )
The omor walked with us then, as far as the Fish
Garden, and left us standing on a bridge looking at the
clouds of green finger-fish and the big striped sea bear.
Another City Friend turned up in the Fish Garden with a
throng of tourists; there were townees, who might have
come from Otolor or Linlor, a few bush weavers from
further north, and a group I did not recognize at all.
"Who are they?" I asked Harper Roy.
"What? The ones in flax kilts? Oh they are real
outlanders ... from the far west, I should say, beyond the
Fire-Town at the edge of the world."
We hung about at the edge of the group as they went up
to the top of the promenade at the end of the garden and the
guide began to point out the sights of the city. We saw the
Old Breakwater-now on dry land-and the beautiful Corr
Pavilion, where the Hundred meet, both buildings from
the time of the Torlogan. We saw the clustered skyhouses
of the grandees, rising from the third or fourth level; in this
part of the city they seemed especially tall, cliffs of stone.
Figures could be seen moving about on the skywalks, like
birds on the highest branches of a tree. On every skyhouse,
clustered among the beams like strange fruit, were golden
globes, painted with the gold paint the grandees use for
their outdoor wickerwork. "Those are sleep-cells," ex-
plained the guide. "Little basket rooms where the grandees
are rocked to sleep. The clansfolk in this city have a strange
malady ... they find sleeping difficult."
This made us all laugh; yet there were times I remem-
bered when it was difficult to sleep.
We could look down on the Friends' Round, a pleasant
place with trees and benches and cook-shops and a large
mosaic pavement reaching out into the lagoon.
"What's that, Friend?" called a townee, pointing.
"That island?" asked the guide. "Why that is the glass
island . . . 'halfway to ltsik', if you know what I mean ' " ' '
We could see the tall heaps of sand glistening in the suns'
( ISO )
M_
J
( 181 )
light and high-domed buildings with smoke coming from
their spouts. As we broke off from the group and ran down
the steps to the Friends' Round, the Harper said, "This city
runs on fire-metal-magic. What more could they have in the
Fire-Town?"
"Moving staircases," I said. "My feet are tired."
"Diver has been telling you Earth yarns!"
This was our first and one of our longest expeditions into
the city. We all went together to the Friends' Round one
morning and Vel Ragan met us there, with Onnar. It was a
pleasant place indeed and one where we felt safe and
comfortable. Old Gwin settled under a tree with Tomar,
and the Harper had many requests for his folk songs. Brin
took me to the message trees, which are wooden racks
where skeins of news and other messages are posted; they
stand at every street corner, and there are certain scribes
who replenish them. Diver and Mamor stood at the
balustrade looking out over the lagoon to the sea, marking
the ships that sailed in and out to the wharves. Ablo took
Narneen to buy a sunshade, and she came running back to
Brin with another new thing . . . a carved wooden figure,
dressed just like a grandee, in a long silk robe and a furry
tippet.
"It is a doll," said Brin. "Ablo is wasting his credits on
you, child." But Narneen hugged the thing and called it her
dear little clan creature, her poppet, her pouch-child.
"What is it for?" I asked.
"It is a toy ... a thing to play with, like the bow Mamor
made you," said Brin. "The city children play with dolls,
and I expect we might have found a stall of them at Otolor."
I looked at shops full of toys after that and wondered
what kind of a toy I might like, but I saw none. Yet the city
was full of things I did crave ... writing sets, leather
boots, pouches, wheeled carts; there was even a place on
the city canal where small sailboats were made and sold.
Vel Ragan took the Five one day to wait upon Orn
Dohtroy-called Margan, the Peacemaker-in his sky
house. They were gone all day, and we stayed indoors with
Ablo at our lodgings. When they returned, they were
disappointed but full of talk about the grandeur of the
place. They had waited in the antechamber on the eighth
level with many petitioners for the Peacemaker and had
gazed into the sun room. This enormous golden room led
onto a water garden, the Harper said, where there were
tamed flatbills. But Orn Margan had been absent, so his
servants gave out, or at least he saw no petitioners that day.
Vel Ragan sent in his name, but not the nature of his
business, and the skein came back with a polite addition
asking him to call again in three days.
The scribe was worried and irritable because the Five
had not been seen.
"Do not fret," said Diver. I am sure it is chance that the
Peacemaker did not see us."
"He is cautious," said the scribe. "Peacemaker is not
altogether a grand title. Orn Margan is ready to compro-
mise. I wonder if he thinks I am seeking Tsorl-U-Tsorl."
"You have no word?"
"None. And I must ask most discreetly. But this is
another matter. I must get you seen, Garl Brinroyan, for
your safety."
"Should we not go to the east and find the Maker of
Engines and Murno Pentroy?" asked Brin.
"Perhaps," said Vel Ragan. "First, bear with me once
more and we will try Guno Deg."
The little darkness had returned, though it was always
very short in Rintoul; spring shades into summer in the
south without a sharp distinction. We all rose up in Esder
light, dressed in our best and set out for Guno Gunroyan's
skyhouse in Rintoul. Old Gwin protested, but she was
made to travel in a carrying chair with Narneen and
Tomar. The scribe led the rest of us for miles, up and
down, then only upwards, and we crossed our first sky-
( 182 )
ve
the
his
ly.
th
d
d
ire
is
n
e
4e
walk. A wind blew from the sea, and the skywalk rippled;
even Diver could not look down. The porters with the chair
waited at the other side laughing, as we tottered across.
We Dlunaged into the shinina levels of the house and came
to the antechamber before the sun room. We were not the
only petitioners, even at this early hour; we tried to send in
a skein, but the servant in charge, the House Warden,
would not accept it. Food was sent out on trays, and as we
were eating it there was a sudden commotion and the
curtains of the sun chamber were abruptly drawn. The
room was of such magnificence that my eyes dazzled; three
domes of colored Lrlass flowered overhead, and there were
three carpets, old and fine, each as large as a small field.
There was a wicker throne on a dais, but it was empty. A
little, stout, strutting figure in a brown robe was bustling
through the spaces of the sun chamber, followed by a
couple of vassals. A continuous stream of complaint and
comment rang out. Guno Deg gestured with a staff and
struck the floor with it. Eventually she came rieht on out
6t
II into the antechamber.
"GoQd-day! Good-day, gentles all!" she cried. "What
~is new work are you bringing me?
Dr
Then she began by the door, speaking to each petitioner
in turn and solving some of the problems on the spot . . . a
matter of land claim, the need for a fishing licence. One or
two Lgrour)s of countrv visitors SiMDlv brought gifts of cloth
or food, and she accepted these graciously and embraced an
ancient who had brought her a young black wool-deer as a
present. She approached our large party and looked us u
Kim
and down.
"Great Wind!" she barked. "An invasion from the distant
north. No, good Mother, remain seated, I pray. Why are
these children not asleep? Who is the Speaker here? A
scribe, forsooth, and from Tsagul . . what have you to do
with this tribe?"
"We bring a wonder, Highness," said Vel Ragan.
( 183
"Something that has not been seen under the two suns." He
presented the skein with our names and his name.
"Indeed!" snapped Guno Deg. "Well, I don't believe
you. I have no time for talking animals, healing stones or
drawings of fantastic beings."
"Perhaps you mean the Stone Brook drawings, High-
ness?" put in the scribe.
"I do!" she said. "Is this your wonder?"
"Here is the artist himself," said Vel Ragan.
Diver stepped forward and bared his head and bowed to
Guno Deg. She stared up at him in silence. "Garl Brinroy-
an?" she asked at last.
"So I am called on Torin, Highness."
"Did you not fly in the Bird Clan at Otolor?"
"I did, Highness!"
Guno Deg bit her underlip and rapped testily with her
staff. "Humph!" she said. "Scribe, you do not lie. This is a
wonder, and one I had hardly believed to this hour. Come
in, all of you ... yes and especially you, whatever you
may be, Garl Brinroyan."
We were escorted into the sun chamber, and the curtains
were drawn again on other unlucky petitioners. Inside we
were all settled and made welcome by still more vassals and
house servants, but I crept as close as I dared to hear Guno
Deg speaking with Brin and Diver and Vel Ragan. At first
Diver told a little of his coming and how we left Hingstull;
then the Elder urged him to leave nothing out and tell all
that had passed. We knew what she meant: the pursuit by
Tiath Avran Pentroy. So Diver and Brin and the scribe told
the whole tale, not leaving out the Gulgarvor and the
harrying of the twirlers and the death-pact of the bird
carriers.
The Wentroy Elder heard them out in silence, then she
said, "You are wise to show yourself, Escott Garl Brinroy-
an. But I notice that in spite of your claims to come in peace
you have fought several times with Moruians."
( 184 )
"In my own defense, Highness," said Diver, "and the
defense of Brin's Five."
"What will you do now?" she demanded. "And do not
tell me that you mean to seek out young Murno Pentroy,
your flying sib. He is all but an exile, like his teacher
Nantgeeb, and if you fly with him I cannot help you."
"I had thought, Highness, of seeing Brin's Five settled in
the delta on a bird farm," said Diver.
"We can purchase one," Brin pointed out, "and the
children can be at home there."
"Good enough!" said Guno Deg, "but what else?"
"Mamor ... the hunter yonder ... is also a sailor,"
said Diver. "We might sail to the islands-"
"Dangerous!" Guno rapped with her staff. "Do you sail
upon the oceans of your home?"
"Indeed, Highness ... and under them as well. But our
ships move with engines."
"If the truth is told, so do some of ours," said Guno Deg.
"Did you not fly with Mattroyan, the merchant of Itsik?
He has ships that leave the harbor under sail, then stoke up
a boiler when they are in the open sea."
A vassal came and brought the Elder a reminder of some
appointment; she turned aside irritably. "Work does not
wait, even for a wonder such as this. Garl Briaroyan, wait
on me again, with Brin and the scribe here, and I will do
what I can about your safety. In the meantime, inquire for
your bird farm and stay out of trouble!" She pressed into
Brin's hand a Wentroy token of a bird's head colored and
glazed on gold; then she cried out to us all. "Take your
time . . .
token. "
She bustled away. We ate our fill and wandered about
the sun chamber talking with the vassals of Wentroy.
I sat with Tomar and watched the flatbills-two common
Narfee-playing in the water garden, and thought of the
distant north. Tomar was walking and climbing well now;
( 185 )
eat up. Call a chair for your ancient and use that
11
his first-fur had all lifted, his front teeth were through, and
he said "Bin-bin-bin" for his pouch-mother, "Een" for
Narneen and sometimes "Dar" for myself. It seemed
strange to me that he might grow up and never recall
Hingstull, where he was born and hidden. I made a vow
that he should return one day and hear the story of our old
life there and of how the Luck came.
So we amused ourselves one day longer and were
planning a trip to the delta to seek out bird farming land. I
walked out with Ablo and Diver at the setting of Esto to
buy fruit from a stall; we turned up a short basket way,
empty save for a porter with a net lounging against the wall.
As we passed, I noticed that it was an omor. I had no
warning until Diver gave a shout, and they leaped upon us
from three directions. The omor with the net had Diver
down before he could help us; I hardly felt the blows that
brought me down, but I saw Ablo shouting and fighting.
Then a blow from a cudgel made blood stream from his
forehead and he Jay still. I heard the voices of the Gulgar-
vor, panting and rough; I remember the cart being wheeled
up, then as I struggled, a foot struck my chin. My head
bounced on the cobblestones, and I dived suddenly into a
black pit; my last thought was, Ablo is dead.
So the Luck of Brin's Five was taken easily in the midst
of Rintoul by the three omor, Meetal, Artho and Alloo, still
bound in Gulgarvor. For good measure they took me along
too, as a member of Brin's Five. But our luck had not quite
run out, for Ablo was not dead. He was left bleeding in the
street after the Gulgarvor wheeled off Diver and myself in
their cart. He dragged himself back to the wig-house and
the alarm was given.
( 186 )
I CAME TO MY SENSES slowly and painfully. For a long time I
saw nothing but a blur of yellowish white; I felt a rocking
motion and dreamed I was on the barge again or the keel
boat bringing us to Rintoul. I heard voices and bell chimes
and a long way off someone laughing and sobbing. Then I
was fully awake; none of my bones were broken; I was
wearing my own clothes and I could still feel my Bird Clan
token around my neck. Yet the waking made no difference,
I was in a place so strange it was as if I could see for the first
time. I lay on a bare shelf stuck to the wall of a small room
shaped like a teardrop. The wall, which had no corners,
was a smooth yellowish expanse of plaster, drawn up to the
top, like the folds of a cloth bag. In front of me was a big
bubbled piece of glass that distorted whatever lay beyond
it. Colors and shapes moved on the other side of the bubble
glass, and I saw that there was a small round door in it.
My head ached but I oriented myself as best I could and
put a foot down from my shelf to the curving floor. The
whole room rocked gently. I lay back again, thinking I was
dizzy, but then I saw a water bag hanging across from the
shelf, and it rocked by itself. I wriggled a little on my shelf
and sure enough the whole room responded. The place
hung suspended in some way, like a basket. I was struck
( 187 )
with the awful notion that it was a basket, or a honeybee's
cell: I had been enchanted and made small and stuck in
some insect's larder! I stifled a cry and lay still.
There were voices and footsteps and shapes swelled as
they passed the bubble glass then faded away. I became
calmer and more naturally sleepy as I experimented with
the movement of the room, and, like a beam of light
penetrating the darkness, it came to me where I was. This
was a sleep-cell. It was not a prison or a place of punish-
ment but one of the golden globes of painted wicker that
nestled under the beams on the highest levels of Rintoul.
Through the round door was a solid corridor, a courtyard
or even a sun chamber and a water garden. Another thing
was sure-for me the place was a prison. I doubted very
much if the door would let me out. Before I had time to
pursue this thought, the sobbing laughter I had heard in my
dreams sounded again, very close.
It was a horrible despairing sound in a voice quite light
and young; another person, another prisoner, lay in another
sleep-cell close to my own, so close that I could hear the
broken words and pleading.
"Let me out . . . let me see you. I am the only one, they
have need of me, my teacher has need of me. It has been so
long. There are fifty fixed stars in the constellation of the
Loom, I could name them all, but I have forgotten-they
have been stolen from me. . . ."
There followed a dreadful sobbing. "Blue . . . the eyes
were blue . . . it made no secret . . . I have told, and I will
tell again if only you will not leave me in this awful
place . . ."
I sat up, trembling, on my shelf.
"There is a cave above Stone Brook ... please let me
out, let me see your faces, let me die. Send me back to the
north. The blessing has all left me. Oh my dear Teacher,
the power has waned, and I have lost the blue barge and the
( 188 )
mountain Five with the devil will be utterly destroyed.
Three comets . . . this is a three comet year . . ."
I braced myself against the wall, although it rocked
crazily, and shouted with all my might: "Gordo Beethan!"
There was an absolute silence, and I shouted again.
Gordo Beethan!"
The voice came again, so low I could hardly hear it.
"Who calls me?"
IS "Dorn Brinroyan. I am in the next sleep-cell."
"You are dead. You are a ghost come to mock me, for I
have been kept so long, and I have betrayed you all."
"I am alive, Gordo, and so are we all. The blue barge is
safe."
"Dorn, Dorn Brinroyan ... is it you?"
"Truly Gordo. Have courage."
"Dorn, what is this place, this dreadful swinging basket
room?"
"It is what they call a sleep-cell. The grandees use it
when they cannot sleep."
But where? In what place?"
"In Rintoul, of course."
"Rintoul!" There was a pause,, and I heard muttering
and thought he had lost his wits again.
"Gordo?"
"I was taken before the New Year, returning from the
east to Otolor,'having delivered the Ulgan's message."
"Have you been . . . mistreated?"
"At first, a little. Then I was left here. It has been so
long, Dorn. There is food put through the door, but I
% cannot eat much. I have lost my powers, perhaps forever. I
sleep and dream and remember all that I told the question-
ers."
"Please Gordo, you are not to blame."
er, "The old one is kind, Dorn. All it does is ask and send me
the back again. I hate the blanket, I am wrapped in a blanket
( 189 )
when they take me out of here, so that I cannot see. But no
more beatings . . ."
A distant set of bells chimed, sweet and silvery.
"Gordo?"
"Quiet, they are coming!"
I lay quietly on my shelf, although my heart was
pounding so hard I felt it must make the cell rock. I prayed
to the North Wind; I prayed to Eenath; I called upon,
Odd-Eye to give me strength. I reasoned that they could
not hurt me or make me mad as they had poor Gordo. I was
protected by all that I knew, and I was given power by my
duty. I must find Diver or at least where he was being held.
I must find this out and return to my Family.
Then a shadow of yellow and gray appeared before the
distorting glass of my door, almost destroying my courage.
The round door opened and an ancient peered inside,
smiling.
"Have you slept well, child?" My visitor was a grandee, I
saw at once, and probably a male. I sat up a little.
"Come along, come along," said the old one. "We'll take a
walk." There was no sign of the blanket Gordo hated so
much; I slithered across the curved floor and half fell out of
the door into the corridor.
It was frightening enough without the blanket ...
indeed it may have been another "kindness" not to let
Gordo see where he was perched. The walls of the corridor
were glass and wide-meshed wickerwork; we seemed to be
on a narrow strip of paving, high, high up, with the blue
and white and golden gulfs of the city reaching down on
every side. The ancient wore an elegant robe of yellow silk,
with gray facing, and carried a wooden staff, set with milky
pink jewels. Yet there was something old and dusty and
food-stained about these clothes; the long hands gripping
the staff were furry and tremulous; only filmed eyes
glittering in its temples told of a mind still alert.
( 190.)
I
i
I
i
"Come along, little string!" I followed the wavering
figure along the bright corridor; we passed two omor, in
neat gray, effacing themselves in alcoves opposite the
sleep-cells. I counted five sleep-cells; they looked every bit
as strange outside as they did in, oval gold baskets with the
glass doors like bulging eyes. They were strung irregularly
on the beams of the skyhouse so that each could move
freely; between them one could see daylight, the empty air,
yet the winding of the corridor allowed each one a firm
entrance. Could Diver possibly lie in one of the other three?
As we passed, I asked in an innocent voice, as loud as I
dared, "Highness, where are we going?"
The ancient replied without turning. "Into the sun
chamber, child."
I was seized with a terrible frustration and began to have
an inkling of Gordo's plight. This was the time, surely,
when I should run away, bang on the sleep-cells to see if
Diver were there, climb bravely up or down, elude the
omor and the ancient ... but it was useless and I knew it.
There was nowhere to run to; the omor would have me
instantly or I would fall to my death. I could only follow as
I was bidden.
The sun chamber was as spacious as the one I had seen
already but made more homely, less grand, by the use of
furled cane blinds and circular tan mats and dwarf red-
wood trees. It had been turned into something more like
three rooms: in the first space we passed were three
females, all in filmy vented robes, although they were
middle-aged and past the time for carrying children. They
were carding and spinning; I had never seen grandees at
this work before, but they seemed to know it well enough.
"Time for honey water!" one cried in a shrill voice as we
passed.
"He is busy!" said another.
"Playing games ... playing
( 191 )
games ... playing
I
I
games...
77
. said the third, in a mad bird voice. Then all
three laughed aloud, and the ancient waggled his staff at
them.
I examined the sun room carefully, still hoping for a way
of escape but it offered even less hope than the corridor.
There were two or three servants, tending to the,flowers
and making refreshments on a tall, wheeled piece of
furniture, with racks and drawers and little colored paper
sunshades to cover the trays of food and fruit. Another
omor, this time in pale gray, and another still, in striped
gray and green, lounged in the second room of the sun
chamber. The blinds were open and on a beautiful carpet a
dwarf was practicing a dance before the omor. A young
musician, half-hidden among vines, played for the rehearsal
on a pouch-pipe, repeating the phrases as the dwarf
practiced turns and somersaults. I felt a sudden chill
spreading through my bones as we came to the next room,
the most soothing place of all.
The chairs were of wicker, and there was a brazier of
wood and metal, unlit for the summer and filled with dried
red leaves. A big legged basket was overflowing with skeins
and scrolls; in one corner stood a scribe's tall desk, with
paper on the platten and skeins half-woven on the hooks.
The ancient pointed briskly and cheerfully to a heap of
cushions and sank down himself in one of the wicker chairs.
In the other sat a middle-aged male in a figured black and
tan robe and handsome, curled, gold slippers. His hair was
lit by the sun through the blind: a reddish brown, heavily
streaked with gray. The face in repose was full of scholarly
concentration, the long eyes light and thoughtful under the
jutting brow.
"Here is our young guest," said the ancient, "and none
the worse for a sleep."
"Then we have something to say to one another," said
Tiath Avran Pentroy.
( 192 )
I was already seated on the cushions for I could not
remain standing, from fear perhaps or surprise, or both.
Yet where else could I have been? And how would the
Great Elder look, at his ease among that Family, which had
been called "a tangle of the old threads". But I could only
stare at this strong-faced, richly dressed Moruian grandee
and see, in my mind, the black barge on a winter's night. I
could hear, instead of the chink of glass dishes, the poison
cups rolling about in the cabin of the old brown bird-boat.
The twirlers drowned, or kicked out their lives on Wellin's
trees; the Gulgarvor fought and died, like engines of
destruction; a world of cold and death and darkness lived at
the behest of this Highness in the scholar's robe and the
curled slippers. And now he had his will-the devil from
Hingstull was in his grasp.
The Great Elder gazed at me with a trace of curiosity.
"Don't stare, mountain child," he said, "or the wind will
blow away your eyelids."
"It is afraid," said Old Av Avran. "Perhaps it has lived
too long on your land, dear sib."
"No," I whispered. "No ... it is just that I have seen
your Highness once before."
"Where?"
"At Wellin, by night. After you had I was about to
say "held assize" but I choked on the soft words. "After you
had hung the twirlers."
The ancient head of the Family chuckled to himself. Not
a ripple passed over the Great Elder's face. "You were at
Wellin?"
"We sailed past in a boat."
"And the devil was with you?"
"All our Family was there."
"Including this foreigner ... the one called Garl."
"Garl Brinroyan is our Luck."
"Why? Is he deformed then? Or mad?"
( 193 )
"His hand was burned when he first came to us. And he
has blue eyes, as you have seen, Highness."
"I have not seen it," said Tiath softly. "I think it would
frighten me."
I hung my head and let my fear and hopelessness wash
over me in a great wave.
"One thing," said Old Av, knitting his bony fingers
together. "Does your devil speak another language?"
"Surely. But he has learned Moruian."
"How many in its nest in the islands?" snapped Tiath.
"Three."
"What is their purpose?"
"To find out what can live, what can breathe on Torin."
"The constellation of the Loom," murmured the Great
Elder. "So far?"
"I do not know," I mumbled. "Please, Highness ...
spea,k with Garl Brinroyan. He comes in peace."
"Speak with the devil? I do not have it," said Tiath.
"No devil and no air ship . . ." chuckled Old Av. "What
do you think of that, little string?" I hung my head again,
and the ancient laughed. "I don't think it believes that . . ."
he said. "Speak up child, what do you say? Has my sib got
the devil or the air ship?"
"He has myself," I said.
"How does this follow?" asked Old Av.
I was taken, on the streets of Rintoul, at the same hour
as our Luck, by the members of the same Gulgarvor, who
admitted to serving the Great Elder."
"Very reasonable," said Tiath Gargan. "You are a clever
child, and bold. Nevertheless I say I do not have your
foreigner, and I begin to think I do not have you, either."
"Lost! lost! lost!" said Old Av, cheerfully. "There are
children lost every day, in the city."
"Quiet!" snapped the Great Elder. "This business is
almost complete."
"Do you have Gordo Beethan?" I asked.
( 194 )
"I am not sure," he replied absently, reading his scroll
again. "Do you think I have him?"
I made no reply but asked again. "Do you have Tsorl-U-
Tsorl?"
The Great Elder crumpled the scroll in his hand and
turned his gaze right on me. He looked pale now, implaca-
ble, just as I had seen him at first.
"Remove it, Av," he said. "Give it to Urnat for a short
time."
Old Av flicked his fingers twice, and the gray and green
omor came through the flower racks from the next room of
the sun chamber. She dragged me to my feet and half
carried me back between the flowers, then laid me on the
figured carpet in the sunshine. The dwarf Urnat had
finished dancing and was drinking from a tall glass cup. I
could not tell whether the dwarf was male or female or
whether it had any sex; it was, as dwarfs go, very hand-
some, with a noble head. The name Urnat was woven in
red on its small green tunic; I remembered that it had been
born of a poor mountain Five on Gurth Mountain, not far
from Hingstull. It said no word but took up a long cane that
stood against a settle and began to thrash me, mainly on my
legs, while the omor held me. I buried my face in the carpet
and did not cry out although the pain became very bad.
The sun chamber seemed to swim and fade when I came up
for a breath. Then I felt a hard hand in my hair, and it was
Urnat lifting my head.
"Enough!" it said, in a child's voice. "Remove it!" The
omor hoisted me into her brawny arms and carried me out
past the female sibs, taking their honey cakes and fruit.
"Playing games . . ." piped the mad one.
The omor carried me back to the corridor and slotted me
into a sleep-cell, a different one. I was now, I thought, on
the other side of Gordo Beethan. I called out feebly, but the
cell rocked and no voice replied and finally I slept.
So I remained, in the power of the Great Elder, so
( 195 )
helpless, so far removed from any hope or comfort for my
Family, for Diver or for myself that my situation made me
light-headed, almost carefree. I had stepped right off the
edge of the world this time and lived in some other place,
without day or night, where the only change was the
coming and going of the omor with my food tray. I
examined my cell and found that it was indeed an apart-
ment for a grandee. A sliding panel in the plaster wall
revealed a washing place and a waste closet; there was
scented washing oil and a stack of soft amith leaves for
drying or wiping. Gordo Beethan had been removed from
his cell, and now I was alone in the row of five sleep cells. I
heard the others being put to their proper use by the
members of Old Av's family . . . the females came and
sang and twittered in their cells until they slept and
complained loud enough for me to hear of the fact that one
cell was occupied.
The omor who attended me was always the same one,
usually dressed in gray and green, who had carried me from
the sun chamber. She seldom spoke, and I did not know her
name, but she was not an unfriendly jailer. One day, with a
solemn face, she asked, "Can you read?"
I told her that I could. She moved her thumb about on
the cover of my plate of fish meal and inside ' fastened in the
lid, was a bright orange message skeinA was giddy with
excitement and mistrust, but the skein was not what I
expected ... a message to me, Dorn, from outside. It was
some kind of public message, of the kind purveyed at the
Friends' Round. The skein read:
A Reward of Cloth or Credits
Will be paid to any person who can tell truth
and relieve sorrow
By showing the way or any part of the way
To these two Bonded Kin, who are lost.
( 196 )
( 197 )
Garl Brinroyan, The Luck of Brin's Five,
A tall one of strong appearance who comes from
a distant place and whose eyes are blue.
Dorn Brinroyan, eldest child of Brin's Five,
A child thirteen years from its showing,
a male, whose eyes are hazel.
In the name of our Great Mother, the North Wind.
Approach the scribe who stands every day in the
Friend's Round.
I could hardly eat for reading the skein again and again
and wondering what the omor meant by showing it to me. I
guessed that Vel Ragan was the scribe, and I felt that this
was the sort of brave gesture my Family might make. But
was it a trap?
Then, when the omor returned, I decided when I looked
at her broad face and its unaccustomed furtive look, that it
was no trap. The creature had no guile. She was a vassal,
serving in a favored place, the very skyhouse of the Great
Elder, and she had been tempted by the reward.
"Well?" she whispered. "Answer me one thing-how can
a mountain Five have cloth and credits for all comers?"
"We have it!"
"By magic? From your devil?"
"From the Bird Clan," I replied. "For our Luck flies
better than any bird, and we have won that great contest."
She swiveled her eyes about, her head and shoulders
almost blocking the round doorway. "Write something on
the skein so they will know I speak truth."
"No," I said. "I have something better."
"Be quick. Guard changes in a few moments.
I drew out the Bird Clan token from around my neck, bit
off clumsily about half a finger length of the blue silk braid,
and tied in the dangling threads one symbol of my name. I
gave it to the omor and returned the orange message skein.
P
Then she went off, and I refastened the braid of silk with
trembling fingers; I was disturbed and frightened, for she
had given me hope again. The rocking of the cell would
scarcely make me sleep; I listened and waited for hours and
then dreamed of orange message skeins strung all about the
streets and gardens and skywalks of Rintoul. I remained in
this anxious state for two more days, then suddenly in
Esder light, the omor and another vassal took me from the
sleep-cell and led me away between them.
We descended to the next half-level, by steps; the omor
left us, and when I looked back, gave a rueful grin and a
wave. I never knew her name and her help came too late for
the plans of the Great Elder. But I found out that she did in
fact take her information to the Friends' Round and was
paid for it; I hoped she was able to buy freedom. Now the
other vassal turned aside, opposite five different sleep-cells,
and led me into a large place for washing and dressing,
probably used by the servants and vassals. Two servants
stood by a pool of water looking helplessly at a figure
crumpled on the ground, weeping and shivering.
"We can hardly make it clean . . ." said one. I saw with
horror that this creature with the matted hair and begrimed
tunic was Gordo Beethan.
"This one is in better shape," said my vassal. He pointed
to a basin and a pile of fresh clothes, like the ones the
servants wore, of fair quality.
I ran to Gordo and knelt by him. "Let me . I said. I
can help him. He is my friend." The servants shrugged and
stood watching while I spoke into Gordo's ear, soothing,
coaxing.
"Oh, Dorn Brinroyan," he said in a hollow whisper, I
thought they had killed you."
"Have courage!" I said. "We will come alive out of this
net, I know it. Let me wash your face."
So he bent over the pool, and I sponged his face with the
warmed, scented water that even the servants used in this
( 198 )
place. Then the servants came with scissors and cut off his
filthy tunic, and he stepped slowly into the pool. He was
painfully thin but not marked with cuts or bruises, and the
warm water revived him. We brushed at his hair, and the
servants dried and dressed him while I washed and put on
fresh clothes. I was careful to keep my own good leather
boots and my Bird Clan token-which I kept hidden-but
I found new clothes of more or less the right size.
There were no mirrors, and I was glad of it. I did not
want to see myself in Pentroy clothes; and it was better that
Gordo did not see himself either. The Diviner's apprentice
was thin and strange; his captivity had done it all; perhaps
his brain had a more delicate pattern, being the brain of a
Witness. We were led through the washing room and out at
its farthest corner. I was about to ask the vassal where we
were going, but the words did not come out; we were on a
skywalk in a stiff breeze. Gordo balked; the vassal laughed
and prodded us with his short cane. I looked far out over
the ocean sea, pearl white in the light of Esder, and stepped
out as bravely as I could, tugging Gordo by the wrist.
"Keep looking at the ocean!" I shouted. "Step out for
Cullin and Hingstull." Gordo held up his head, and we
crossed the skywalk. The air revived him; his eyes were not
so shadowed. We were rounded up by the vassal on the
other side of the walk, and he led us down a winding
basket-way. I asked this time, "Where are we going?"
"To the Sea Flower Room."
"What is there?"
"Oh, it is a small place where the Council meets some-
times."
We entered the curtain walls of an old building with only
two levels above ground and came to a beautiful, low-
ceilinged, round room painted with sea flowers in an
ancient style. All round the room was a wicker screen,
about the height of a tall person, and set off-center there
was a large oval table of wood, with comfortable chairs
I
( 199 )
i
ranged at the edge. The vassal led us behind the screen and
around the room until we were near the table; we sat on a
wooden bench, and the vassal went away into the shadows.
"No tricks!" he said. "Listen well . . . hear how the old
threads are woven."
We sat drowsily on the bench, and I found myself
thinking of food and of my Family, two things never far
from my thoughts in captivity. Gordo leaned back and shut
his eyes. Before we knew it there were persons sitting at the
table; a rustling of garments, hawking and coughing; voices
echoed curiously in the chamber. The chairs scraped, and
there were greetings; I leaned forward and heard a voice
reading a report. It was long and dull, but gradually the
sense of it penetrated and I was listening to every word.
The plan was to dredge the Troon north of Otolor; there
was a report on the bad state of the river, its snags and
sandbanks, which I could have sworn to from my own
experience. The sand would be lifted from the river and
used to improve river fields and cropland surrounding the
villages, including Wellin. The problem was labor and
credits to do the work. A contribution was to be asked from
every clan, from the town grandees of Otolor and the
landholders in the smaller places. This seemed to me an
excellent plan, but other voices were protesting or at least
raising difficulties.
"Yes, yes, yes," said one voice, "but the Old Bear will
have its fur ruffled."
"I can give you workers, but I'm burned if I send credits
to the north," said another voice.
"You have been burned before, Margan .
Then I understood at last what was taking place and
could not tell whether to laugh or cry. This was the Council
of the Five Elders-or some of them at least. The old
threads were being woven indeed, right there at the table.
Most puzzling thing- of all, the reader of the report, to
whom the other voices seemed to defer, was the Great
( 200 )
Elder himself. When I knew it, the old fear and loathing
surged back, but I knew the report was still good, the plan
excellent. Tiath Pentroy had been planning wisely for the
north and surveying the river at the same time he harried
innocent folk and spread his bane.
I could identify the others gradually-Orn Margan with
his grumbling voice and the other on that side, only a dim
shape through the screen, must be Blind Marl, Marl
Udorn, Marl Noonroyan Luntroy, the Luck of Noon's
Five. Then there came Old Leeth-though indeed they
were all old-Leeth Leethroyan Galtroy, who approved
everything the Great Elder spoke, for her clan was closely
allied with his own.
"Tiath Pentroy," said Old Leeth now, "you must not
keep us waiting, my dear. Bring it out, I pray." There were
sounds of interest and approval; the Elders were asking
Tiath to show, to display, to set their minds at rest.
"Dear friends," said Tiath in his strong velvety voice, "if
I have spoken on this other matter, which is dear to me, it is
partly to show that I do not go on a progress through the
north in search of wonders. But here is a wonder and before
anything is shown I will tell you plainly, as I am a plain
speaker, that I need your help. I need a Ruling of Secret
Hand and I need it within the hour, if the old threads are to
remain unbroken."
Orn Margan coughed and replied uneasily, "There are
rumors enough in Rintoul. What will you do if we give you
this ruling?"
"I will keep Torin from danger!" said Tiath.
"Are we talking about the same thing?" asked Blind Marl
querulously. "Is this Tiath's devil?"
"Blind Marl," said Tiath, "make use of your vaunted
insight now and take this matter seriously."
"I would be blind indeed," snapped Marl, "to give a
Ruling of Secret Hand to a Strangler!"
"Easy now . . ." rumbled Orn Margan. "Tiath Pentroy
( 201 )
what do we have here? I will not easily believe that
another race has reached Torin from the void.
"We must believe it!" said Tiath. "But the danger will be
averted if I get my ruling."
"One devil . . ." said Leeth Galtroy. "It could be put
down in a moment. Is it an intelligent being? Does it have a
shape fit to look upon?"
"More or less," said Tiath, "and its personal threat is
negligible. I am talking of the security of the world and of
the clans. Orn Margan, would you not be the last to
precipitate another clan war? This creature has already
travelled the length of Torin and been in certain contact
with exiles and magicians."
"You mean Nantgeeb," said Blind Marl, "but this is your
enemy, Tiath, not mine."
"Arr, I can hardly believe all this," growled the Peace-
maker. "How did it come? How could it pass among us? Is
it so dangerous and yet so harmless? Bring out your devil!"
"No!" squeaked Leeth. "Are we protected? They say its
eyes are blue. Let the Great Elder have his ruling."
"Give me my ruling now ... lest its enchantment work
on you when you see it!" said Tiath, almost playfully.
"Oh if we must . Orn Margan replied, humoring the
Great Elder.
I was at the screen now, straining to see if Diver would
be brought in.
"Dorn," said Gordo in a firm whisper. "Your Luck is
close by!" His head was erect and his eyes blazed in the
shadow.- It meant that his powers were returning. "Back,"
he said. "They are coming to bring us forth."
I had returned to the bench when two vassals came from
our left and bade us follow to a door in the screen. Then we
came out into the lovely swimming light of the Sea Flower
Room, which filtered down from glass panels in the walls
which concealed oil lamps. There sat the Five-or four of
them at any rate-looking exactly like their voices.
( 202 )
1A, ~ -
"These are two country children," said Old Leeth. "Are
they the witnesses you mean? Child, what is your name?"
"Dorn Brinroyan, Highness," I replied. "Of Brin's Five
and Gwin's blood and the distant mothering of Abirin and
Felm. I come from Hingstull Mountain." The three elders
laughed indulgently at this, as grown-ups do to hear a
lesson well-learned; it made me furious and I determined
that they would laugh no more.
"How came you here, child?" asked Blind Marl, reaching
a hand in my direction.
I came a few steps forward and took his hand, gripped it,
as is customary when speaking to blind persons. "Truly,
Highness, I was set upon in the streets of Rintoul and
taken, together with Gar] Brinroyan, our Luck, by a
Gulgarvor, set upon us by the Great Elder, Tiath Gargan."
This time no one laughed, only the Great Elder smiled a
little.
"You speak without respect!" cried Leeth. "Wretched
child. Have you used this devil as your 'Luck' because it is
so ugly?"
"I speak truth, Highness. Escott Garl Brinroyan is our
Luck. We do not find him ugly. He comes from a distant
place, but I swear by our Mother, the North Wind, he
comes In peace."
Orn Margan turned to Gordo Beethan. "What is this
other youngster. Speak up, skinny one!"
"I am Gordo Beethan, apprentice Diviner out of Cullin,"
the reply rang out strongly.
"Have you seen this devil?"
"I have seen it once, Highness, and it is a tall, well-made,
thinking creature, in everything like a Moruian."
"Has it any magical powers?" put in Old Leeth.
"None, Highness. But you should ask it yourself-it is
within earshot, behind the screen at your back, where the
yellow sea flower is painted."
Old Leeth spun around in her chair, and the other Elders
A
im
( 203 )
reacted almost as strongly, protesting to Tiath Pentroy. He
rapped the table with a piece of rock shaped like an egg.
"Do not be afraid," he said, "but give me my ruling. Let us
deal with the creature at our good pleasure."
He gave a signal and another door opened in the screen.
Two vassals brought in Diver; he was naked except for a
breech-clout and barefoot, his wrists tied with strongest
cord. There was a gasp from the watchers; he had not been
able to shave for five or six days, and a thick black growth of
hair covered the lower part of his face. His pale skin and
body hair made him look outlandish. Two vassals stood at
my back but they were unprepared; I dived forward, under
the table, shot between the chairs and long clothes of the
elders and ran to Diver's side.
"Have they hurt you?" I gasped. "Oh Diver .
"Courage!" he said, and the flash of his blue eyes
comforted me.
The vassals struck at me with their canes. "Leave the
child alone!" said Diver.
"Great Wind!" exclaimed Blind Marl, "it speaks like a
person!
"Approach then," said the Great Elder genially, "child
and devil both. How are you faring, Scott Gale?"
"I am cold, Highness, without my clothes."
"Have you taken to heart what we have discussed?"
"I have given it deep thought."
"You see?" said Tiath to the others. "It is an intelligent
being."
"And trusting," said Blind Marl, "very trusting. I will
question it. Gale, if that is your name, where do you come
from?"
"The system of another star, Highness. I came by
accident to Hingstull Mountain and was cared for by a
mountain Family."
"Do you have dealings with the magician Nantgeeb?"
( 204 )
"I believe I have spoken with this person, but I have
never seen Nantgeeb face-to-face."
"Ah, what a voice," said the blind Elder. "It is truly not
of this world. Can you sing, stranger?"
"A little, Highness."
"Foolery . . ." said Orn Margan. "Yet it is a flaming
odd-looking devil to speak so well."
"Let me hear it sing," begged Blind Marl.
Tiath Pentroy nodded, and a vassal touched Diver on the
shoulder. He looked down at me and murmured the song's
name, and we sang together.
"Een Turugan arabor va-ban,
Gwerdolee ma na dobaggarnee,
Mor-roy anstar utotbor ma-wen,
Turu geer da, tu-u-uru geer da!
And when we had sung this, Diver sang the same part
again in his own tongue.
"Tbe Minstrel Boy to the war has gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him,
His father's sword be has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him.
Then, for the sweetness of this song, and for the sweet,
safe time when Diver told it to the Harper, upon the
Troon, I hung my head and felt the tears coursing down
my cheeks.
The Elders were silent for a few pulse beats, and Blind
Marl, at least, seemed disposed to applaud the singing.
"My ruling . . ." said the Great Elder softly. He made
another sign, and a vassal set a cloak around Diver's
shoulders. Suddenly, at the other side of the Sea Flower
Room, a whole section of the screen was wrenched aside
( 205 )
and a short bustling figure in dark green burst angrily into
the chamber.
"Not too late!" cried a harsh voice. Guno, Deg strode or
rather bounced to the table and thumped upon it with a
closed fist.
"Here is no justice done! You are cozened and made into
creatures of the clan Pentroy!"
"Hold your tongue, Old Spite!" said Tiath. "I call for my
ruling."
"If you ask for Secret Hand, you will not have it,
Gargan!" cried Guno. "The thing has gone too far, beyond
even the reach of your ropes and your murderers and your
secret prisons. I heard a song sung as I came into this
chamber, by this visitor Garl Brinroyan. I have heard the
same song sung in the streets of this city. I have found this
skein strung from every tree and rack in Rintoul." She
flung on to the table another orange message skein, and the
Elders passed it quickly from hand to hand.
"Too far indeed!" said Tiath. His voice was hard as
stone, and his face had that brooding look I had seen and
known at the very first.
"The poison and madness this foreign creature brings is
at the very springs of our life. It seems like one of us, but it
is not ... as we can plainly see when it is stripped of
Moruian clothes. We must deal with it by Secret
Hand . . . "
"That you may not do!" cried Guno Deg. She flung
down upon the table a short white staff. "I have canvassed
the Council of One Hundred, and our demand is that you
bring the person called Garl Brinroyan before them in two
hours, else the threads are broken and the Five Elders
dishonored."
Tiath Pentroy's wrath was terrible to see. He turned on
Guno Gunroyan Wentroy a look that should have withered
her to ashes. "So be it," he said. "But when the Council
( 206 )
rl
votes for Secret Hand, then even you must be satisfied.
None can say that I do not follow the old threads." He
signed to his vassals. "Remove the witnesses and the devil!"
"With your leave," said Guno Deg, no whit softened, "I
will add Wentroy vassals to their guard. I do not wish to
hear in two hours that Garl flew untimely off a skywalk."
She waved impatiently, and there were Wentroy vassals in
t e ea Flower Room.
"Privilege!" cried Leeth Galtroy.
"Take the prisoners to the second gallery then," said the
Great Elder. "If it please clan Wentroy . . ."
Guno bowed her assent, and the Great Elder did not wait
to see the order carried out but leaped up and swept from
the chamber.
Guno raised her staff to Diver and myself, but neither
she nor any of the other grandees attempted to speak to us.
Gordo came to stand with us, and according to some prior
command, one of the Pentroy guards untied Diver and let
him replace his clothes. He asked for leave to shave his face,
but they affected not to understand. We stood in the Sea
Flower Room in a knot of clan vassals, and I felt so weary
that I could have settled on the tiled floor, among the
engraved sea shells and small fish. Then we were marched
off again, with Pentroy behind and Wentroy before,
through another basket-way and across a street on the
lowest level and into the walls of that most famous of all
buildings in Rintoul: "the crystal sanctuary", "the rare
shell", tithe wind's own weft", the Corr Pavilion, summer-
house of the last Torlogan.
We were not alive to its beauties at that moment; we sat
in the empty pinkish spaces of the second gallery, and I
whispered with Diver.
"Where were you imprisoned?"
"Why, below that place-the Sea Flower Room," he said
in surprise. "There are floors below it ... a labyrinth of
( 207 )
old rooms, many used as prison cells, I think. Were you
and Gordo somewhere else?"
"A little higher," I said. "Diver, do you know where the
Five are?"
He shook his head. "I know the Pentroy went to the
wig-house and found them gone. Tiath said they had
returned to the north ... He promised. . . ." Diver had a
rueful look, as if he knew what Tiath Gargan's promises
were worth.
"What?"
"The Five would not be molested any more."
"What did you promise in return?" asked Gordo Beethan
sorrowfully.
"Information ... the working of the engines. This Rul-
ing of Secret Hand means exile in some secret place here in
the south."
"He will have it yet . I said. "Oh Diver . I
thought of our poor broken Five wandering back again
towards the north, without their Luck and their eldest
child.
"Never fear," said Diver. "I made sure you would be
returned to them."
"I cannot believe Brin's Five would give up so easily!" I
went on to tell Diver of the orange message skein, and we
laughed shakily together.
He told us a story of an imprisoned king in very ancient
times in his own land, who was found by a harper who
played a certain air outside various citadels until the king
heard and replied. We rallied, thinking of Harper Roy
strumming away at "Een Turugan", the "Song of the
Young Harper", from the skywalks and pinnacles of Rin-
toul. Gordo Beethan had the exquisite idea of all the ropes
and cables of Rintoul as one great harp, responding to
certain tunes, until the whole city played music.
"Alas," sighed the Diviner's apprentice, "I wonder what
( 208 )
J
t
will become of me. I was given promises too, but I am too
unimportant for them to be kept. Yet I know even the
Pentroy would think twice about harming the Ulgan of
Cullin."
"Never fear," said Diver. "You will go north with Dorn,
if that is how things must be. Guno Wentroy will not have
the pair of you in captivity: trust her."
But I thought of Diver, left to his fate, disappearing into
the Secret Hand of Tiath Avran Pentroy.
The vassals on guard duty were bored and restless; they
gave us fruit to eat and water to drink. I could see that
Diver was trying to keep up our spirits and I tried too, not
thinking too deeply of all that had passed and all that might
come, but enjoying this last time together. There was a cold
sadness behind my eyes; I winced at the thought of having
no Luck again, but it was Diver himself we would miss.
Was this ancient thread, the need for a lucky person, a cruel
thing after all, a matter of putting some other being to use
to ward off a Family's misfortune?
I walked to the fretted stone wall of the second gallery
and peered out at the wonders of the Pavilion. I saw the
huge, pale whorls of stone, overlaid with silken panels,
stretching up and down; a floor had been removed since the
time of the Torlogan, and the interior was more than ever
like a shell. Curved tiers of plain white benches curled in a
helix from the mosaic pavement, which showed two sea-
sunners twisting their scaly bodies in battle, with fire
coming from their mouths in a flourish of flame and purple
tilAlready the place was filling up for the meeting; there
andees than I had ever hoped to see, for the
Pavilion held many more than a hundred, and all clansfolk
could attend and watch. Their voices echoed into our
chambe ; their clothes were dazzling to my eyes even yet,
but I gazed on them sadly. They were remote, bright
( 209 )
I
painted figures; their clothes were so many bolts of silk and
fine cloth and the skins of dead animals; their jewels were
heaps of little stones. Even cloth itself, which was the
greatest wealth, the work one must do, the weft of life, had
lost its value in my sight. There stirred in my mind for the
first time the thought that there might be other threads for
me to follow.
I laid my cheek against the cool stone and wished all the
grandees away and my Family together again, not as we
had been, for that was impossible, but safe at least, with
Diver in our midst. Then I walked back and sat by him,
with Gordo; they were talking of flying machines. I had a
sudden flash that this had happened before, this sort of
conversation, and I remembered just as the guards ordered
us to our feet. Sailing-I had talked of sailing with the
children in Jebbal's tent.
Diver was kept back by the guards, but Gordo and I
were sent out onto a small railed platform in the side of one
of the tiers. We were close to benches full of grandees, but
none paid us particular attention. The whole spectacle of
the crowded Pavilion lay before us, and however coldly I
had looked on this sight a moment before, I could not
remain unmoved now, in the midst of it. There were the
Hundred, invested in their white cloaks; there were the
galleries of spectators, rippling with color and the flash of
gems. Below to our left was a shelf of sculptured chairs,
each one grand as a throne, for the Five Elders. Wentroy,
Luntroy, Dohtroy, Galtroy; they came in slowly, robed in
the colors of their clans. Then the Hundred rose to the
sound of hoarse conch shells and fell silent as the Great
Elder took his place, robed in black.
The meeting was formal, controlled by ten Councfl
officers stationed throughout the Pavilion and the High
Herald, who strode about on the mosaic pavement and
motioned to the trumpeters who stood in alcoves by the
arched entry. The Pavilion was so made that the least word
( 210 )
could be heard from any speaker; a single note from the
conch brought silence and the formal opening of the
Council by the Herald. Then Tiath Pentroy rose to speak.
"I have not summoned this Council, but I am glad it is
called " he said. "You are here to see wonders and you will
see th m." His voice was smooth, almost conciliatory, but
there was a cold edge to it. I saw Guno Wentroy sitting
stiffly erect and Blind Marl with his long listening face,
half-turned towards the Great Elder.
"What you have heard is true. There are strangers on
Torin and one is, by great good fortune, safely held here for
you all to see."
A wave of sound and movement went through the
Pavilion; the spectators rustled and sighed and were quelled
by the voice of Tiath Pentroy.
"This creature has been commonly called a devil, but it is
no devil. We would be in less danger if it were a devil . . ,
for devils, according to the old threads, can be kept at bay
by prayers and chants. This creature is called Man, and it
comes from a distant world writhing in the grip of a
fire-metal-magic that is profound and deadly. You will see
that this creature is no monster-in many respects it
resembles a Moruian. I have two young Moruians here,
from the wild north, and the Man has lived among them.
Dorn Brinroyan, answer to your name."
The vassal was about to prod me, but I stood to the rail,
trying to forget the hundreds of eyes upon me, and an-
swered, "I am Dorn Brinroyan."
The vassal did prod me this time, and I added,
"Highness . . ."
There was a little swirl of laughter. "It is a mountain
child," said Tiath Pentroy, reproving the audience for their
laughter.
"Did the Man Scott Gale descend to the Warm Lake at
Hingstull Mountain in an air ship?"
"Yes, Highness."
( 211 )
"Did it live in Your tent and eat Moruian food?"
"Yes, Highness."
"That is all. Stand forth now, Gordo Beethan."
I drew back from the rail trembling while Gordo stood
forth. The last chance to speak for Diver had gone and all I
felt was an empty relief. I scarcely heard the Great Elder
lead Gordo through his meeting with Diver.
"It was a tall person dressed like a Moruian but its eyes
were bright blue." Gordo was parroting his lines as I had
done.
Guno Deg rose up now and exchanged nods with the
High Herald. "One question for Dorn Brinroyan."
I stood forth again, conscious of every rustle and titter.
"When you had rescued this being, Escott Garl, was he
made part of your Family?"
"Yes.Highness-he was made our Luck."
The reaction was neither more nor less, a little hum of
anticipation that quickly swelled to a babble of voices. The
moment Guno resumed her seat, Tiath signed to his vassals
and Diver was brought in. He had been stripped of his
clothes again, and he stood alone save for one vassal on a
larger railed enclosure beside the Five Elders. Tiath Pen-
troy stilled the clamor in the hall with a blast from the
conches.
"Here is the creature from the void!" he cried, "and I will
ask presently for a ruling for its control and the protection
of Torin."
There was a tense stirring among the grandees and one
not far from where we stood cried out, "Shame, Pentroy!
Let it have clothes!'
This brought other shouts, and Tiath swooped in again,
with a note for silence, and addressed Diver.
"Man . . . what is your name.
"My name is Scott Gale. I come in peace to the land of
Torin."
( 212 )
"Does it speak Moruian then?" came a shout.
There was a jeering answer from the same part of the
chamber. "No . . . Tiath Gargan is a Voice Thrower!"
There was a cry of "Question" and a young Wentroy
Councillor rose up. "Are you called Garl Brinroyan?"
"Yes I am."
"Did you fly a machine called Tomarvan to victory at the
Bird Clan in Otolor?"
I did, Highness."
"Call me rather your friend," said the Wentroy, stiffly
but gallantly; "for I flew Utofarl and I am sad now that once
I was discourteous to you and to your escort."
Then the cry went up again, "Question" and an ancient
Councillor demanded, "Have you a nest of Man in the fire
islands?"
"There are three of my people working there. They are
scholars. I came by accident to Hingstull Mountain in a
small air ship."
"Where is your ship now?" interposed Tiath.
I do not know," said Diver. "Last I saw, it was taken
down the mountain by Pentroy vassals, Highness."
"Do you not know that the ship, with all it contains of
fire-metal-magic, is in the hands of the exiled Diviner
Nantgeeb?"
I believe it may be so."
The name of the Maker of Engines rustled about the
Pavilion.
"Do you use engines of fire-metal-magic for many pur-
poses," continued Tiath, "for flying, for making silkbeams,
for a weapon to strike down living persons?"
I have small engines to do these things, but fire-metal-
magic is not my thought."
"You think there is no harm in these engines?"
"Not in the engines themselves," said Diver cautiously.
Then a great questioning broke out from all corners of
( 213 )
the chamber with inquiries, some of them serious, some
jeering and foolish, about Diver's powers, his origins, even
the shape of his body, and the conch blew for silence.
"I will call for a Ruling of Secret Hand," announced Tiath
Gargan, "so we may hold the Man in custody and answer
all these things. Let the formal trumpet call for the motion
to follow, according to our procedure, and keep the silence
of the Council unbroken and the dignity of these proceed-
ings intact, I pray."
The Hundred and the spectators settled down into a
seemly hush, and I sat with Gordo, leaning arms against
the rail, sleepy and defeated. I saw the vassal giving Diver
his clothes again; the show was almost done, and Tiath
Gargan, the puppet-handler, would have his will.
The High Herald was out of sight under the archway,
and the conches blew a phrase of six, seven notes, high and
low. I saw the Great Elder throw up his head; he broke the
silence himself, angrily.
"Herald, what foolery is this?"
"Privilege!" exclaimed Guno Deg.
The silence in the Pavilion had become tense and deep;
the Herald came to the center of the pavement and spoke.
"The order is laid down!"
"What cause can precede this ruling?" demanded Tiath,
"Guno Deg, is this your treachery?" And a chorus of voices
said softly, "Privilege!"
"The cause has an absolute priority," said the Herald. "It
is a double claim of Life and Bond against the Great Elder
and the Council of Five." Then the Herald gave the sign,
and again the conch shells brayed out with that call of seven
notes.
Through the arch onto the glittering pavement there
came four persons; they had some marks of substance, but
in that place they stood out plainly for what they were:
weavers of Torin, the members of a mountain Five. The
leader stood tall, supporting the ancient upon her arm; one
( 214 )
A
male carried a harp slung across his back, and the other
wore a hunting knife.
"Speak your names and face the accused with your
claim!" bade the Herald.
"Brin Brinroyan!"
"Gwin Uto-Tarroyan."
"Roy Turugan."
"Mamor."
The voices rang out plainly, and the silence in the Corr
Pavilion rolled back again, without another whisper.
I am Brin Brinroyan and this is our charge of Life and
Bond against those named and assembled here. The eldest
child of our Family, Dorn Brinroyan, is held here and must
be returned to us .
"The child has been held as a witness, together with the
apprentice from Cullin," said Tiath impatiently. "There
they stand unharmed, and they may both be returned. You
live upon Pentroy lands, Brinroyan Family, and may
return there when you will."
"Highness," said Brin, in a loud voice, "the charge is not
complete. The child Dorn we take back, in right and bond,
and we will gladly see the apprentice to his home. But we
seek one other. Escott Gar] Brinroyan, who stands there, is
our Bonded Luck, and by every thread of law, we must
have him back again!"
Then the silence was shattered, the Hundred talking
eagerly until the conch was sounded. Tiath would have
spoken first, but the Herald made the formal reply. "There
is the charge stated, but have you a Speaker, known to the
Council, if any dispute the charge?"
66 e have!"
Vel Ragan came in, wearing his scribe's robe and a
narrow hood, so that his scarred face was almost hidden.
I dispute this cause!" shouted Tiath. "And I do not
know this speaker!"
"Vel Ragan is my name, Highness. and I am known."
( 215 )
"He is known to me," said Orn Margan slowly.
"And to me," snapped Guno Deg.
Murmurs of assent rose from the clansfolk of Dohtroy
and a few others.
"Yet I say I dispute this cause," said Tiath, "and I will
not be told the threads by a scribe from the Fire-Town who
has cozened these simple folk!"
"We stand here of our own will, every one of us!" said
Brin.
I doubt that," said ' Tiath. "You are suborned! Stand
forth the hunter-you with the scar on your cheek. That is
the brand given to runaways, I think. How dare you stand
before us?"
"Anyone will dare to stand forth in a just cause, High-
ness," said Mamor. "We need our child back and our Luck.
And the scar on my face came from a mountain wolf."
A voice called, "Try again, Gargan. He doesn't scare
easily!"
"What says the Harper?" asked Blind Marl.
"Truly, Highness," said Roy, "I stand here to claim
Dorn, our child, and Garl, our Luck. As the song
says . . ." He reached over his shoulder in the way he had
and struck four notes on the harp. Blind Marl chuckled
approvingly; the four notes were from an old song, and
they said, "True bond is best . . ."
"Let that ancient stand forth if it can," snapped Tiath.
"Old Mother, what brings you from the mountain to stand
before my face and,before this Great Council?"
Old Gwin let go of Brin's arm and stepped forward,
peering up to left and right at the assembly. There were a
few soft cries of "Shame" and "Let it alone".
I see the child of our Family here," she said in a strong
quavering voice, "and I see poor Diver, as we call him, our
Luck, who came in answer to our prayers, and that is
reason enough . . ." She looked up at Tiath Pentroy, then
turned aside and made the averting sign.
( 216 )
Vel Ragan said, "There is only one question to be asked,
and I put it to Garl Brinroyan: Are you here of your own
free will?"
Diver stepped forward to the rail and answered strongly,
"No, I am not."
"Then the Luck must be returned, according to bond."
"By no means . . ." said Tiath. "What is this bond?
Have we seen it? Scott Gale, have you understood this
bond? Think of all that I have said to you and answer
carefully. "
"I have understood the bond," said Diver.
"I have the skein here," said Brin, "and the name Diver is
on it, for Garl Brinroyan, our Luck. I guided his hand, but
he knew the ceremony."
Leeth Galtroy broke in angrily, "Witness! Here is the
Great Elder questioned in the Pavilion itself and who
knows by what humble creatures! It is a strong thread in
this proceeding that there must be a clan witness or at least
a person of more worth than these I see. The devil Garl has
been no more than half a season on Torin-who has known
him to be the Luck of this Five?"
"There is one," said Vel Ragan, "a clan witness who saw
Garl Brinroyan at the first."
"I have seen him!" said a voice. It was the Wentroy pilot
again.
"I have seen him," said Guno Deg.
"Thank you, Highnesses," said Vel Ragan, "but there
are yet two others. I will not say the names but I leave it
upon their honor."
There was a further call for silence. I had not taken my
eyes from my Family, but now I allowed myself to look at
Diver and smile. We began looking at the rows of grandees,
but it was hard to single out faces.
Gordo Beethan whispered in my ear, "Who are they?"
Then there was a movement among the Hundred.
"I dare say I am one of the persons you mean, scribe.
( 217 )
"Yes, Highness?"
"My partner and I were done some service by the Harper
here and the child and the one called Diver," said Rilpo
Rilproyan Galtroy. "But I will say I had not the least idea it
was such a valuable creature."
There were exclamations of shock and excitement; I
heard a grandee say to a neighbor, "That will cost Rilpo
dear with the Pentroy." Tiath had a dangerous look.
"Friend Galtroy," he said, "are you sure of this?"
"Quite sure, alas," said Rilpo. "This is the Luck of Brin's
Five. In fact dear Tewl and I made an offer for this visitor,
by Cullin, to be our Luck."
"That would have saved a bale of trouble!" shouted some
wit from the spectators. And the whole Pavilion dissolved
into nervous laughter, rocking and fluttering, until the call
for silence came again.
The Great Elder rose up again, his face still clouded.
"The Elders are charged with holding this Man, and we do
hold him and we must. This is no ordinary cause. Scott
Gale is not a Moruian; he comes from a distant place; he
cannot form a true bond with a Family of weavers. All this
has been mere foolery. He is of a different race and blood;
he cannot partake of our customs. I have been strong in his
pursuit because I will not have Torin divided and polluted
with his new magic. He cannot be returned to this Five
because there was never a true bond. A Moruian cannot
enter into a bond with a foreigner."
The words seemed too strong for our cause. I thought, in
that moment, that we had lost, when it seemed we must
win after all. I heard words of approval and of dispute
among the grandees. Then Gordo gripped my hand, and I
saw that his eyes were bright. He leaned over the rail and
beckoned eagerly to Vel Ragan, who limped across and
raised his face to us.
"Dorn . He smiled at me. "And is this Gordo
Beethan?"
( 218 )
"Scribe, scribe," gasped Gordo. "I have a word for you
that wins all!"
He leaned far over and gave Vel Ragan the word; and I
saw that it was a good one, for the scribe's face lit up.
"What say you, Speaker?" called the Herald. "Will you
dispute still or let the Hundred vote on the justice of the
claim?"
"I will dispute," said Vel Ragan. "Scott Gale can partake
of our customs, and he has indeed done so and the threads
of hospitality apply to all. I say he formed a true bond and
intended to keep it."
"Not so!" said Tiath. "Come now, Scott Gale . . . you
have travelled with these folk and been their friend, but you
are Man. Answer truthfully, did it ever occur to you to stay
with Brin's Five longer than this journey from the north?"
"Truly, Highness, it has occurred to me," said Diver. "I
am alone, as a Man, on Torin. The chances of finding my
fellow creatures are less with every day. I must tell you I
am under rule from my world to live out my life, if need be,
in a new place. Brin's Five are my Family ... the only one
I have. If I cannot partake of your customs, I am lost."
"The more reason for Secret Hand! A protective custo-
dy. A Moruian cannot form a bond with a foreigner."
"Yet it has been done before and even more closely," said
Vel Ragan, "unless the ancient mysteries of the clans are to
be worth nothing . . ."
"What do you mean?" asked Tiath.
"The clans formed bonds with creatures of another race,"
said Vel Ragan. "Your own ancestor, Highness, is Eenath
the spirit warrior!"
There was a gentle stir through the Pavilion; Tiath
Pentroy stood still, gaping at the scribe; he began to speak,
then thought better of it.
"Would you deny Eenath?" demanded Blind Marl, slyly.
Then Orn Margan Dohtroy lumbered slowly, almost
reluctantly, to his feet. "I believe the scribe has made out
( 219 )
his case," he said, "and these folk, from the mountains,
have shown us plainly how strangers and foreigners sbould
be treated upon Torin. The Man comes in peace, I hope,
and can live amongst us. In legend lies always a grain of
truth: Clan Dohtroy numbers Vuruno the spirit warrior
in its line. I hope that I will not dishonor my ancestor by the
pursuit of a stranger and the imprisonment of young
witnesses. I know, better than most of you, that Moruians
are hard to govern and that great leaders resort to the secret
exercise of power, in exasperation, to have their will. I
believe Brin's Five should have their Luck again; I will not
vote for Secret Hand."
"A vote!" said Guno Deg, "by the turning of the cloaks.
If this bond be a true one-"
"Then our Luck must be returned!" said Brin.
"I am conspired against!" said Tiath Gargan.
"A vote is called," said the Herald, "and the speaking
must stop!"
The trumpeters made a wild, long call, and there was a
rustling as the Hundred began to turn their cloaks, slowly
at first, then more and more, until whole rows had gone
from white to blue. I did not know what the colors
signified, but I could see it upon the faces of Tiath Pentroy
and the scribe Vel Ragan. The numbers were called and
stood at sixty votes for a true bond, forty against and not all
of them from Pentroy and Galtroy.
Guno Deg, who had called for the vote, stood up and
addressed Diver. "Give us assurance that you will live here
in peace, Garl Brinroyan, and you may go with Brin's
Five."
"I give that assurance gladly," he said. "And I leave my
engines, so-called, with the Great Elder."
A last call was blown, and the Pavilion was full of noise
as the grandees filed out.
Diver vaulted lightly over the low rail and came to help
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down Gordor Beethan and myself, onto the pavement. I ran
into Brin's arms. We stood all together in the Corr Pavilion
and watched the Five Elders departing. Tiath Pentroy had
been standing by his throne, but now he kept his eyes fixed
on Vel Ragan and came slowly to the rail.
i
"Take care," he said in a terrible soft voice, "there is a
special fire for those who say too much."
"Fire does not frighten me, Highness," said the scribe.
"Since I stood in the path of an assassin . . ." He turned his
head, and the Great Elder stared in silence at the scars on
his face.
"Stand beside a leader who is less . . . headstrong," said
Tiath slowly, "and do not go hunting shadows."
So the name Tsorl-U-Tsorl hung between these two and
was not spoken; Tiath Pentroy turned and strode out of the
Pavilion.
We came out of the hall into the long porch where
grandees and their vassals and servants were milling about
in great numbers. A surprising number of those waiting
had to do with Brin's Five. There stood Ablo, with his head
bandaged, holding Tomar by one hand and Narneen by the
other; I went and greeted them and hugged Ablo around
the waist.
"Oh Ablo ... I thought you were dead!"
"So did 1, Dorn Brinroyan, so did I. But it turns out I am
not, and I have been given a nickname, a thing I never had
before.... I am Ablo Binigan!"
This was a name that suited him very well, for it meant
Ablo the Fixer, the Helper, the one who picks up dropped
stitches.
I saw that Onnar was there, waiting for Vel Ragan; a
Wentroy house servant brought a luck skein from Guno
Deg. The Wentroy pilot came up and shook Diver by the
hands and presented several grandees of other clans, who
spoke curiously to him and asked more impertinent ques-
( 221 )
tions. He answered them all with good humor.
I felt a dig in the ribs and spun round to see an omor in
crimson livery. "Not so cold here, mountain child!"
"Burn me," said the Harper, at my elbow, "it is Tsam-
met!"
"The same," she grinned. "You had us fooled, Harper,
with this fine devil of yours!"
"I hope your lieges have no trouble on our account," I
said.
"Winds forbid!" said Tsammet. "It will blow over. Do
you not know that Tewl is the Pentroy's near kin?
Ah, but to think that I have ridden on the devil's back! I
could hire out as a Luck myself on the strength of it." She
winked at the crowd of servants and porters and swaggered
up to Diver who recognized her at once.
"Tsammet!"
Then she shook his hands proudly and went back to her
fellows.
Brin and Mamor gathered us up then, and we went
through the thinning ranks of the crowd to the canal steps
where a pay-boat was waiting, among the boats of the
grandees. As Old Gwin went down the broad steps she
faltered and almost fell; the Harper caught her in his arms.
"All right?" he asked.
"I am tired," she said impatiently. "Let me into the
boat." Then we all went aboard, with Vel Ragan and
Onnar, and the rower took us swiftly through the crowded
waterway.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"To the delta," said Mamor. He spoke up to the rower.
"Be sure you are not followed. Remember your charge."
"I will, Excellence!"
We sat there in silence under the awning as the pay-boat
twisted and turned through the sunlit canal. All the
fountains were playing that day, but I felt that my Family
were anxious to leave the city. I saw Gordo Beethan sitting
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t
I
astern, gaping at the sights of Rintoul just as he was about
to leave. High up to the west, among the skyhouses, I could
see golden globules that caught the light.
Diver sat in our midst talking to Brin and Vel Ragan
about his captivity.
"Diver, have you given the stun-gun to the Great Elder?"
I asked.
"Yes," he said, "and it should be very useful if he wants
to swat insects."
"What have you been up to?" said Mamor. "Have you
broken the setting lever?"
"It is fused into the light setting," said Diver.
"Diver," said Narneen, "now that Tiath Gargan has your
shaving-engine, will you shave with a knife?"
"Winds forbid!" said Old Gwin, leaning against Brin's
shoulder. "Don't lay metal to your face, young Luck. Let
that devilish black face hair grow to your knees if it will."
"If you say so, dear Gwin," said Diver, "for I have
nothing to hide now."
So from this time Diver went about as a Man, black-
bearded, and when the bleach grew out, black-haired. It
made him look not so much more foreign but simply older,
as if he had aged with the adventurous life we had been
leading. I saw in my mind, and I still see, two Divers, the
pale young shaven Luck we rescued from the Warm Lake
and the black-bearded man who led us on to even stranger
adventures.
We came through the streams of the delta, far beyond the
city, to an ancient backwater. There were thriving bird
farms with rows of cages, netted trees and egg houses on
all sides; but the place to which we came was disused
and overgrown. We went ashore at a crumbling jetty and
saw a large fixed house, its thatched roof newly patched,
and the remains of a glebe fence. I stepped onto rough grass
and turned back to help Gordo. Narneen took us by the
hand.
t
( 223 )
"Come," she said. "Come and see!" She smiled at Gordo,
and I knew they could speak to each other in their minds,
both being Witnesses. We wandered off, while the rest
were coming ashore, past cage rows, old and overgrown,
and flowering vines, and came to a promontory overlooking
the main stream of the Troon. There, on a circle of
rough-clipped grass stood a little tree, filled with our
spinners; a chair and a lace frame told me that Old Gwin
must sit here. Further off, there were four brown basket
hives for honeybees and a row of old stones half buried in
the grass; beside these stones sat a Moruian in a farmer's
tunic and leggings.
"Are you rescued then, Dorn Brinroyan?" said Fer
Utovangan.
"So is Diver!" I blurted out. "We are free and clear." We
clasped hands and were immensely pleased to see each
other. Gordo Beethan stared curiously as we sat on the
grass.
"I cannot believe what Narneen tells me," he said. "This
is your bird farm, as the Harper sings? You are Antho!"
"I was once," smiled Fer. He pointed sadly to the stones,
and we recognized them for what they were ... memorial
stones for that Family he had lost, drowned in the river
more than twenty springs ago.
I wondered then what was legend and what was truth,
and it was a long time before I found the full answer. But
sitting there, with Fer, in that quiet place, before we went
back to the house and the great talk going on there, I saw
that the legend was not a lie. The winds had taken Antho,
the poor distracted bird farmer; Fer was a different person,
whose destiny was to design engines.
"Will Brin's Five live here?" I asked.
"If they will do me so much honor," said Fer.
"But surely it could not be a bird farm again?"
"I would prefer it to be used for bees and flowers," he
said.
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I
I-
L
"Tell me," I asked, "how have you come to help us? I had
thought the Maker of Engines would be displeased with
Diver."
"Do not think of Nantgeeb bearing a grudge," said Fer,
laughing. "When Narneen and Onnar sent out their
prayers, there was no thought in the Eastern Retreat but to
rescue and help our friends."
In the fixed house, which was old and spacious and
comfortable, we all lived in an enforced calm. The talk, the
endless talk, went on; quietly in corners or in a ring at
night, under the rack of candlecones hanging from the
ceiling. Diver and Ablo went out with Fer every morning
and inspected their pet, the Tomarvan, which had a launch-
ing catapult in the glebe. Diver took several flights and was
glad to have his bird back again.
Old Gwin was tired. When she woke, she was taken out
every morning to her place under the spinners' tree, and she
would sit, by the hour, too weary to work at her lace. I took
my turn to sit with her, and I understood why she had
picked this place, for it was the only spot where one could
look to the north, up the river.
I was with Vel Ragan there one morning, and Old Gwin
said to the scribe, "There is something that I think you
know, young scribe."
"What is that, good Mother?"
"The Harper had it from our good Diviner, the Ulgan of
Cullin," she said. "One of our kin was well-known in the
Fire-Town. Lhave my ideas about this. Will you say the
name?"
Vel Ragan looked a little unwilling. "You speak your
thought, Gwin," he said.
"It is Arn Tarroyan," she said. "Roneen's eldest pouch-
child. He was a well-grown outclip, and he went to Cullin
fair and we saw him no more. But there was a recruiting
call for the Fire-Town at that fair.
( 225 )
"Right," said Vel Ragan. "Arn was my good friend and
the friend of my liege, the Deputy. His name was Arn
Lorgan, the Bridgemaker, a proud name."
"Well, I can tell he is dead," sighed Gwin, "but I am glad
to have heard the story."
I felt a prickle of fear, like a cold wind on the back of my
neck, for I knew it was a harbinger of death to hear that one
younger had died. But Old Gwin sat calmly looking to the
north up the gray river and made no averting sign.
It was not two days more, another sweet morning,
summer on the delta; I sat in the cook-room of the fixed
house playing hold-stone with Narneen and Gordo. All
was quiet, with Ablo stirring the cooking pots; Diver had
Tomar out by the Tomarvan; the Harper and Mamor were
repairing more of the roof. Brin was by the river, sitting
with Gwin. Suddenly Narneen lifted her head, then
Gordo. They both jumped up from the mat with the same
look of fear and rushed from the house, and I rushed after
them. I followed down the grassy track to the promontory,
and as we came in sight of the spinners' tree, we stopped,
all three. We saw Brin rise up slowly from beside the chair
where Old Gwin lay.
"Gwin has flown to the north," she said. "Do not be
afraid."
So Old Gwin died, looking towards Hingstull, and was
buried on that promontory and a stone raised to her, beside
the stones of Antho's Family. We did not speak of it, but
from this time we were a Five no more; we could have taken
another ancient, according to the old threads, but we had
come too far. We were not bush weavers or mountain folk
any longer.
Vel Ragan and Onnar came and went to the city,
bringing us news and continuing their search for Tsorl-U-
Tsorl. Diver had helped them in this, for he had spoken to
his Pentroy jailers in those dark floors below the Sea Flower
Room. He learned that a group of prisoners under Secret
( 226 )
I
Hand, had been brought in, and one had had a stormy
interview with Tiath Gargan himself and had struck at the
Great Elder and cried for justice. There had been talk, the
jailers said, of fire-metal-magic; and the Great Elder's rage
was terrible, because he thought he had been betrayed.
This violent prisoner had been sent to Itsik; Vel Ragan
planned to visit this foul place to continue the search.
I was not there when the plan for the ship was first
raised, but Diver spoke to me by the Tomarvan the same
day. "Would you sail the Great Ocean Sea?" he asked. "Or
was the keel boat enough for you?"
I took it in at once. "To the islands? I will go! Will Brin
let me? Which ones of us?"
"Steady," he said, "it would be a hazardous journey."
"Would Mamor be captain?"
"Of course. But he would take a sailing guide, for he has
not be n far on the ocean. I think Brin would let you go
along."
"Did Vel Ragan find us this ship?"
"He helped to find it," said Diver, "and the reason for my
going. Guno Deg sends word that I should make myself
scarce. Tiath Gargan does not give up easily."
( 227 )
10
THE TIME TO START A VOYAGE on the Great Ocean Sea is in
the first light of Esto, when the waters are turned to gold.
The air was warm, at the third wharf in Rintoul, but I
thought of that other wharf in Cullin, where I had waited
with Diver in the cold. Gordo Beethan, who came to us
that day, had already sailed off again; he was being borne
away in a bird-boat up the Troon ... back to Cullin, back
to the Ulgan, back to our own country, where the moun-
tains reared into the sky. We had seen him go as bravely as
we could; I did not weep for the north because of the new
excitement behind my eyes. I was for the Great Ocean Sea,
for the waves, for the sea birds and giant fish and the
sea-sunners. I was for the fire islands, where Diver's
people might still be waiting.
Now, at Rintoul wharf, the ship looked clumsy as a fixed
house ill-made. It was a pot-bellied ship with a green sail,
and it was called Beldan or Green Wheel; Mamor stood on
the high bridge, by the chart tent, and next to him the
sailing guide. Ablo Binigan was fussing about on the deck
with our gear, getting in the way of the fifteen sailors in the
crew. I settled beside the rail in the waist of the ship and
watched the sail warden, a tall omor, setting in order the
thick new yellow ropes. The ship smelled of salt and dried
( 228 )
I
sunner meat and rope, both old and new. It was not a new
ship; it had sailed back and forth to Tsagul and eastward to
the Salthaven; it had sailed among the islands and returned
with a hold full of tree-flax and rare woods . . . the official
reason for our voyage this time. The Green Wheel had been
further than the islands, to the blue ice, far to the south,
and to the north, where the ice is green. As it rode at
anchor, its timbers creaked, its rigging sang, as if it were
talking to the ocean, eager to set sail again. The ocean,
which I expected to talk back pretty loudly once we had set
sail as calm in the light of Esder flat and silken bevond
the harbor mouth.
Diver was the last of our party to come aboard; he stood
on the wharf with Brin and the Harper, Narneen and
Tomar I looked at them all throu h the rail and ied to fix
them in my mind; the sailors set up a chant, and the shadow
of the green sail fell across my face. I turned my head and
saw it unfurled; a wide-open eye was worked in colored
cord upon the sail, as a charm for seafarers. There was a
regular thump, beating a new rhythm for the chant, as the
anchor was raised by its capstan and the metal-bound rope,
thick as a tree branch, slithered into its locker in wet coils.
Diver swung lightly up the narrow gangplank and came
to stand by me. I stood up; and by the time I had done so,
there was already a widening trough of water between the
ship and the wharf. Brin stood on the wharf, all the others
were there, and I was being moved away from them. Yet I
had borne much worse than this; I swallowed hard and
waved both hands, but I could hardly hear their voices
raised or the Harper's song of farewell. We waved and
waited until the blue thread'that Mamor had thro n to
Narneen from the high bridge drew taut and snappec
We had moved out into the stream, giving way to other
vessels as we approached the harbor mouth. Rintoul rose
above us, never more beautiful, in ladders and racks of
white and silver. The crew were busv_- Diver nut me ahead
of him on the narrow steps to the bridge, and we went up.
When I looked again, I could hardly make out the wharf
and the dark knot of figures. I looked at Mamor's face and
the face of the ancient sailing guide and the bearded face of
Diver, and I felt secure, but not in the old way, as I had
done in the warmth of the tent.
I was among them, but I was myself, Dorn-U-Dorn,
stepping off the edge of the world in brave company. The
ship cleared the harbor mouth, and we felt at once the roll
and surge under the Beldan ~ keel as it was taken back by
the Great Ocean Sea. A rim of light grew in the distant
east, but our way was to the southwest. A stiff breeze filled
the green sail, and we sailed on so fast we seemed to draw
the light of the Great Sun across the sea, turning it to gold.
( 230 )