“Defense. Every man’s hand turned against the other. The first local who sees me will probably try to brain me just to get these antique furs that I’m wearing. Defense.”
His knife had vanished along with his flashlight, so a sharp fragment of split rock had to do. A straight sapling was raw material and he worried it off close to the ground with the chip of stone. Taking off the branches was easier, and within the hour he had a rough but usable quanterstaff. It served first as a walking stick as he hobbled eastward on a forest path that appeared to go in the right direction.
Toward evening, when his head was starting to swim again, he met a stranger on the path. A tall, erect man in semimilitary uniform, armed with a bow and a very efficient-looking halberd. The man snapped some questions at Jason in an unknown language, in answer to which Jason simply shrugged and made mumbling noises. He tried to appear innocent and weak, which was easy enough to do. With his drawn skin, tangled beard and filthy furs, he certainly couldn’t have looked very ominous or appetizing. The stranger must have thought so too, for he did not use his bow and came forward with his halberd only indifferently at the defense.
Jason knew that he had only one good, or halfhearted, blow in him, and he had to make it count. This efficient looking young man would eat him alive if he missed.
“Umble, umble,” Jason muttered, and shrank back, both hands on the length of stick
“Frmblebrmble!” the man said, shaking his halberd menacingly as he came close.
Jason pushed down with his right hand, pivoting the quarterstaff with his left so that the end whipped up. Then he lunged it forward into
the other’s midriff in the region of the solar plexus ganglion. The stranger let out a single, mighty whoosh of air and folded, unmoving, to the ground.
“My fortunes change!” Jason chortled as he fell on the other’s bulging purse. Food perhaps? Saliva dampened his mouth as he tore it open.
18
Rhes was in his inner office, finishing up with his bookkeeping, when he heard the loud shouts in the courtyard. It sounded as though someone were trying to force his way in. He ignored it; the other two Pynrans had gone, and he had a lot of work to finish up before he left. His guard, Riclan, was a good man and knew how to take care of himself. He would turn any unwanted visitors away. The shouting stopped suddenly, and a moment later there was a noise that sounded suspiciously like Riclan’s armor and weapons falling onto the cobbles.
For two days Rhes had not slept, and there was still much to be done before he went away for good. His temper was therefore not of the best. It is very unhealthy to be around a Pyrran when he feels this way. When the door opened, he stood prepared to destroy the interloper. Preferably with his bare hands so that he could hear the bones crunch. A man with an ugly black beard, wearing the uniform of a freelance soldier, entered, and Rhes flexed his fingers and stepped forward.
“What’s the trouble? You look ready to kill me,” the soldier said in fluent Pyrran.
“Jason!” Rhes was across the room and pounding his friend on the back with excitement.
“Easy,” Jason said, escaping the embrace and dropping onto the couch. “A Pyrran greeting can maim, and I haven’t been feeling that good lately.”
“We thought you were dead! What happened?”
“I’ll be happy to explain, but would prefer to do it over food and drink. And I would like to hear a report myself. The last time I heard about Felicitian politics was just before I was pushed off a cliff. How does the trade go?”
“It doesn’t,” Rhes said glumly, taking meat and bread from a locker and fishing a cobwebbed bottle of wine from its straw bed. “After you were killed, or we thought you were killed, everything came to pieces. Kerk heard you on his dentiphone and almost destroyed his morope getting there. But he was too late, you had gone over the edge of Hell’s Doorway. There was some jongleun who had betrayed you, and he tried to accuse Kerk of being an off-worlder as well. Kerk kicked him off the cliff before he could say very much. Temuchin was apparently just as angry as Kerk and the whole thing almost blew up right there. But you were gone and that was that. Kerk felt the most he could do for you was to try and complete your plans.”
“Did you?”
“I’m sorxy to report that we failed. Temuchin convinced most of the tribal leaders that they should fight, not trade. Kerk aided us, but it was a lost cause. I eventually had to retreat back here. I’m closing out this operation, leaving it in good enough shape for my assistants to carry on, and the Pyrran ‘tribe’ is on its way back to the ship. This plan is over, and if we can’t come up with another one, we have agreed to return to Pyrrus.”
“You can’t!” Jason said in the loudest mumble he could manage around the mouthful 0f food.
“We have no choice. Now tell me, please, how did you get here? We had men down in Hell’s Doorway later the same night. They found no trace of you at all, though there were plenty of other corpses and skeletons. They thought you must have gone through the ice and that your body had been swept away.”
“Indeed swept away, but not as a body. I hit a snowbank when I landed and I would have been waiting for you, cold but alive, if I had not fallen through the ice as you guessed. The stream leads to a series of caverns. I had a light and more patience than I realized. It was nasty, but I finally came out below the cliffs in this country. I knocked a number of citizens on the head and had an adventurous trip to reach you here.”
“A lucky arrival. Tomorrow would have been too late. The ship!s launch is to pick me up just after dark and I have a ten-kilometer row to reach the rendezvous point.”
“Well, you’ve got a second oar now. I’m ready to go anytime after I get this food and drink under my belt.”
“I’ll radio about your arrival so that word can be relayed to Kerk and the others.”
They left quietly in one of Rhes’s own boats and reached the rocky off shore islet before the sun touched the horizon. Rhes chopped a hole in the boat’s planking and they put in some heavy rocks. It sank nicely, and after that, all they could do was wait and admire the guano deposits and listen to the cries of the disturbed seabirds until the launch picked them up.
The flight was a brief one after the pilot, Clon, had nodded recognition at Jason, which was about all the enthusiastic Pyrran welcome he expected. At the grounded Felicity, the off watch was asleep, and the on watch, at their duty stations, so Jason saw no one. He preferred it this way because he was still tired from his journey. The Pyrran tribesmen were to arrive some time the following day and socializing could wait until then.
His cabin was just as he had left it, with the expensive library leering at him metallically from one corner. What had ever prompted him to buy it in the first place? A complete waste of money. He kicked at it as he passed, but his foot only skidded off the polished metal ovoid.
“Useless,” he said, and stabbed the on button. “What good are you, after all?”
“Is that a question?” the library intoned. “If so, restate and indicate the precise meaning of ‘good’ in this context.”
“Big mouth. All talk now, but where were you when I needed you?”
“I am where I am placed. I answer whatever questions are asked of me. Your question is therefore meaningless.”
“Don’t insult your superiors, machine. That is an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s better. I maketh and I can breaketh just as well.”
Jason dialed a strong drink from the wall dispenser and flopped into the armchair. The library flickered its little lights and hummed electronically to itself. He drank deep, then addressed the machine.
“I’ll bet you don’t think much of my plan to lick the natives and open the mine?”
“I do not know your plan; therefore I cannot give a judged opinion.”
“Well, I’m not asking you. I bet you think that you could think of a better plan yourself?”
“In which area do you wish a plan?”
“Culture, changing references will be found under ‘history’ and ‘anthropology.’ If you are not asking, I withdraw the reference.”
Jason sipped and brooded, and finally spoke.
“Well, I am asking. Tell me about cultures.”
Jason pressed the off button and settled back in his chair. The lights went out on the library and the hum faded into silence.
So it could be done after all. The answer had been right there in the history books all the time, if he had only had the brains to look. There were no excuses for the stupidity of his actions. He should have consulted the library but he had not. Yet, it still might be possible to make amends.
“Why not?!”
He paced the room, hitting his fist into the palm of his hand. The pieces might still be put back together if he played it right. He doubted if he could convince the Pyrrans that the new plan would succeed, or even that it was a good idea. They would probably be completely against it. Then he would have to work without them. He looked at his watch. The launch was not due to leave for the first pickup of Kerk and the others for at least another hour. Time enough to get ready. Write a friendly note to Meta and be deliberately vague about his plans. Then have Clon drop him off near Temuchin’s camp. The unimaginative pilot would do as he was told without asking questions.
Yes, it could be done, and by the stars he was going to do it.
19
Lord was he of all the mountains,
Ruled the plains and all the valleys.
Nothing passed without his knowledge.
Many died with his displeasure.
Temuchin sprang suddenly into the camach, his drawn sword ready in his hand.
“Reveal yourself!” he cried. “My guard lies outside, struck down. Reveal yourself, spy, so that I may kill you.”
A hooded figure stepped from the darkness into the flickering light of the oil lamp and Temuchin raised his sword. Jason threw back the fur so his face could be seen.
“You!” Temuchin said in a hollow voice, and the sword slipped from his fingers to the ground. “You cannot be here. I killed you with these hands. Are you ghost or demon?”
“I have returned to help you, Temuchin. To open an entire new world to your conquest.”
“A demon, that you must be, and instead of dying, you returned home through Hell’s Doorway and gained new strength. A demon of a thousand guises, that explains how you could trick and betray so many peopie. The jongleur thought you were an off — wonder. The Pyrrans thought you were one of their tribe. I thought you a loyal comrade who would help me.”
“That’s a fine theory. You believe what you want. Then listen to what I have to tell you.”
“No! If I listen, I am damned.” He grabbed up the sword. Jason talked fast before he had to battle for his life.
“There are caves opening from the valley you call Hell’s Doorway. They don’t go to hell, but they lead down to the lowlands. I went there and returned by boat to tell you this. I can show you the way. You can lead an army through those caves and invade the lowlands. You rule here now, and you can rule there as well. A new continent to conquer. And you are the only man who could possibly do it.”
Temuchin lowered the sword slowly and his eyes blazed in the firelight. When he spoke, his voice was hushed, as though he were speaking only to himself.
“You must be a demon, and I cannot kill that which is already dead. I could drive you from me, but I cannot drive your words from my head. You know, as no living man knows, that I am empty. I nile these plains and that is the end of it. What pleasure in ruling? No wars, no conquests, no joy of seeing one’s enemy fall and marching on. Alone, by day and night I have dreamed about those rich meadows and towns below the cliffs. How even gunpowder and great armies could not stand against my warriors. How we would surprise them, flank them, besiege their cities. Conquer.”
“Yes, you could have all that, Temuchin. Lord of all this world.”
In the silence the lamp sputtered, tossing shadows of the two men to and fro. When Temuchin spoke again, there was resolve in his voice.
“I will have that, even though I know the price. You want me, demon, to take me to your hell below the mountains. But you shall not have me until I have conquered all.”
“I’m no demon, Temuchin.”
“Do not mock me. I know the truth. What the jongleurs sing is true, though I never believed it before. You have tempted me, I have accepted, I am damned. Tell me the hour and manner of my death.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Of course not. You are bound as I am bound.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know how it was meant. By accepting all, I lose all. There is no other way. But I will have it like that. I will win first. That is true, demon, you will allow that?”
“Of course, you will win, and—”
“Tell me no more. I have changed my mind. I do not wish to know the manner of my end.” He shook his shoulders as though to remove some unseen weight, then thrust his sword back into the slings at his waist.
“All right, believe what you will. Just give me some good men and I’ll open up the passage to the lowlands. A rope ladder will get us into the valley. I’ll mark the route and take them through the caves to prove that it can be done. Then the next time we do it, the army will follow. Will they go-down there?”
Temuchin laughed. “They have sworn to follow me to hell if I order it and now so they wilL They will follow.”
“Good. Shall we shake on that?”
“Of course! I will take the world and win eternity in hell, so I have no fear of your cold dead flesh now, my demon.”
He crushed Jason’s hand in his and, despite himself, Jason could not help but admire the giant courage of the man.
20
“Let me talk to him, please,” Meta asked.
Kerk waved her away and clutched the microphone, almost swallowing it in his giant hand.
“Listen to me now, Jason,” he said coldly. “None of us is with you in this adventure. You will not explain your purpose and you will gain nothing except destruction. If Temuchin controls the lowlands, too, we will never replace him and open the mines. Rhes has returned to Anmih and is organizing resistance to your invasion. Some here have voted to join him. I am going to ask you for the last time. Stop what you are doing before it is too late.”
When Jason’s voice sounded from the radio, it had a curious flat quality, whether the fault of the transmission on that of the speaker it was hard to say.
“Kerk, I hear what you say and, believe me, I understand it. But it is too late now to turn back. Most of the army has gone through the caves and we’ve captured a number of inoropes from the villages. Nothing I say could stop Temuchin now. This thing will have to be seen through to its conclusion. The lowlanders may win, though I doubt it. Temuchin is going to rule, above and below the cliffs, and in the end this will all be for the best.”
“No!” Meta shouted, puffing at the microphone. “Jason, listen to me. You cannot do this. You came to us and helped us, and we believed in you. You showed us that life is not only kill and be killed. We know now that the war on Pyrrus was wrong because you showed us, and we only came to this planet because you asked us to. Now it seems, I think, it is as though you were betraying us. You have tried to teach us how not to kill and, believe me, we have tried to learn. Yet what you are doing now is worse than anything we ever did on Pyrrus. There, at least, we were fighting for our lives. You don’t have that excuse. You have shown that monster, Temuchin, a way to make new wars and to kill more people. How can you justify that?”
Static rustled hoarsely in the speaker while they waited the long moments for Jason to speak. When he did he sounded suddenly very tired.
“Meta… I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you, but it is too late. They’re looking for me and I have to hide this radio befor
e they get here. What I’m doing is right. Try to believe that. Someone a long time ago said that you cannot make an omelet without breaking eggs. Meaning you cannot bring about social change without hurting someone. People are being hurt and are dying because of me and don’t think I’m not aware of it. But… listen, I can’t talk any more. They’re right outside.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Meta, if I never see you again, just remember one thing. It’s an old-fashioned word, but it is in a lot of languages. The library can translate it for you and give you the meaning.
“This is better by radio. I doubt if I could say it right to your face. You’re stronger than I am, Meta, and your reflexes are a lot better, but you are still a woman. And, hell, I want to say that I… love you. Good luck. Signing off.”
The speaker clicked and the room was silent.
“What was that word he used?” Kerk asked.
“I think I know,” she answered, and she turned her face away so he could not see it.
“Hello, control!” a voice shouted. “Radio room here. A sub-space message coming in from Pyrrus with an emergency classification.”
“Put it through,” Kerk ordered.
There was the rustle of interstellar static, then the familiar drumbeat warble of the jump-space carrier wave. Superimposed on top of it was the quick, worried voice of a Pyrran.
“Attention, all stations within zeta radius. Emergency message for planet Felicity, ship’s receiver Pugnacious, code Ama Rona Pi, 290-63 3-087. Message follows. Kerk, anyone there. Trouble hit. All the quadrants. We’ve shortened the perimeter, abandoned most of the city. Don’t know if we can hold. Bnucco says this is something new and that conventional weapons won’t stop it. We can use the fire power of your ship. If you can return, come at once. Message ends.”
The radio room had put the sub-space message through to all compartments of the ship and, in the horrified silence that followed its ending, running footsteps sounded from both connecting passageways. As the first men burst in, Kerk came to life and shouted his commands.
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