all-night restaurants reminded me that I was very hungry, but the reflex cut off at once and I thought no more about it. I returned to the warehouse building, found a dark corner in the rear, and settled quietly back to wait for dawn and business hours.
I must have slept; I have a dim recollection of ever repeating, claustrophobic nightmares.
From daylight until nine o'clock I hung around a hiring hall, studying the notices; it was the one place in the neighborhood where a man of no occupation would not attract attention. At nine o'clock I met the rental agent as he unlocked his office, and leased the loft, paying him a fat squeeze on the side for immediate possession while the paperwork went through on the deal. I went up to the loft, unlocked it, and waited.
About ten-thirty my crates were delivered. I let the teamsters leave; three were too many for me and I was not yet ready in any case. After they were gone, I opened one crate, took out one cell, warmed it, and got it ready. Then I went downstairs, found the rental agent again, and said, "Mr. Greenberg, could you come up for a moment? I want to see about making some changes in the lighting."
He fussed, but agreed to do so. When we entered the loft I closed the door behind us and led him over to the open crate. "Here," I said, "if you will just lean over there, you will see what I mean. If I could just?" 
I got him around the neck with a grip that cut off his wind, ripped his jacket and shirt up, and, with my free hand, transferred a master from the cell to his bare back, then held him tight for a moment until his struggles stopped. Then I let him up, tucked his shirt back in and dusted him off. When he had recovered his breath, I said, "What news from Des Moines?" 
"What do you want to know?" he asked. "How long have you been out?"
I started to explain, but he interrupted me with, "Let's have a direct conference and not waste time." I skinned up my shirt; he did the same; and we sat down on the edge of the unopened case, back to back, so that our masters could be in contact. My own mind was merely blank and I have no idea how long the conference went on. I watched a fly droning around a dusty cobweb, seeing it but not thinking about it.
The building superintendent was our next recruit. He was a large Swede and it took both of us to hold him. After that Mr. Greenberg called up the owner of the building and insisted that he simply had to come down and see some horrendous mishap that had occurred to the structure?just what, I don't know; I was busy with the super, opening and warming several more cells.
The owner of the building was a real prize and we all felt quiet satisfaction, including, of course, he himself. He belonged to the Constitution Club, the membership list of which read like the index of Who's Who in Finance, Government, and Industry. Better still, the club boasted the most famous chef in town; it was an even chance that any given member would be lunching there if he were in the city.
It was pushing noon; we had no time to lose. The super went out to buy suitable clothes and a satchel for me and sent the owner's chauffeur up to be recruited as he did so. At twelve-thirty we left, the owner and I, in his own car; the satchel contained twelve masters, still in their cells but ready.
The owner signed: J. Hardwick Potter & Guest. One of the flunkies tried to take my bag but I insisted that I needed it to change my shirt before lunch. We fiddled around in the washroom until we had it to ourselves, save for the attendant?whereupon we recruited him and sent him out with a message to the resident manager that a guest had taken ill in the washroom.
After we took care of the manager he obtained a white coat for me and I became another washroom attendant. I had only ten masters left but I knew that the cases would be picked up from the warehouse loft and delivered to the club shortly. The regular attendant and I used up the rest of those I had been able to bring before the lunch hour rush was over. One guest surprised us while we were busy and I had to kill him, as there was no time to save him for recruiting. We stuffed him into the mop closet.
There was a lull after that, as the cases had not yet arrived. Hunger reflex nearly doubled me over, then it dropped off sharply but still persisted; I told the manager, who had me served one of the best lunches I have ever eaten, in his office. The cases arrived just as I was finishing.
During the drowsy period that every gentlemen's club has in the mid-afternoon we secured the place. By four o'clock everyone present in the building?members, staff, and guests?were with us; from then on we simply processed them in the lobby as the doorman passed them in. Later in the day the manager phoned Des Moines for four more cases.
Our big prize came that evening?a guest, the Assistant Secretary of the Treasury. We saw a real victory in that; the Treasury Department is charged with the safety of the President.

VIII
The jubilation caused by the capture of a high key official was felt by me only as absent-minded satisfaction, then I thought no more about it. We?the human recruits, I mean?hardly thought at all; we knew what we were to do each instant, but we knew it only at the moment of action, as a "high school" horse gets his orders, responds to them instantly, and is ready for the next signal from his rider.
High school horse and rider is a good comparison, as far as it goes?but it goes not nearly far enough. The horseman has partly at his disposal the intelligence of the horse; the masters had at their disposal not only our full intelligences, but also tapped directly our memory and experiences. We communicated for them between masters, too; sometimes we knew what we were talking about; sometimes we did not?such spoken words went through the servant, but the servant had no part in more important, direct, master-to-master conferences. During these we sat quietly and waited until our riders were through conferring, then rearranged our clothing to cover them up and did whatever was necessary. There was such a conference on a grand scale after the Assistant Secretary of the Treasury was recruited; I know no more of it than you do, although I sat in on it.
I had no more to do with words spoken by me for my master than had the audio relay buried behind my ear to do with words it sounded?the relay was silent all this time, incidentally; my phone proper I had left behind me. I, like it, was a communication instrument, nothing more. Some days after I was recruited I gave the club manager new instructions about how to order shipments of masters' carrying cells. I was fleetingly aware, as I did so, that three more ships had landed, but I was not aware of their locations; my overt knowledge was limited to a single address in New Orleans.
I thought nothing about it; I went on with my work. After the day spent at the club, I was a new "special assistant to Mr. Potter" and spent the days in his office?and the nights, too. Actually, the relationship may have reversed; I frequently gave oral instructions to Potter. Or perhaps I understand the social organization of the parasites as little now as I did then; the relationship may have been more flexible, more anarchistic, and vastly more subtle than I have the experience to imagine.
I knew?and my master certainly knew?that it was well for me to stay out of sight. Through me, my master knew as much of the organization we called the "Section" as I did; it knew that I was one human known to the Old Man to have been recruited?and my master knew, I am sure, that the Old Man would not cease to search for me, to recapture me or kill me.
It seems odd that it did not choose to change bodies and to kill mine; we had vastly more potential recruits available than we had masters. I do not think it could have felt anything parallel to human squeamishness; masters newly delivered from their transit cells frequently damaged their initial hosts; we always destroyed the damaged host and found a new one for the master.
Contrariwise, my master, by the time he chose me, had controlled not less than three human hosts?Jarvis, Miss Haines, and one of the girls in Barnes's office, probably the secretary?and in the course of it had no doubt acquired both sophistication and skill in the control of human hosts. It could have "changed horses" with ease.
On the other hand, would a skilled cowhand have destroyed a well-trained workhorse in favor of an untried, strange mount? That may have been why I was hidden and saved?or perhaps I don't know what I am talking about; what does a bee know about Beethoven?
After a time the city was "secured" and my master started taking me out on the streets. I do not mean to say that every inhabitant of the city wore a hump?no, not by more than 99 percent; the humans were very numerous and the masters still very few?but the key positions in the city were all held by our own recruits, from the cop on the comer to the mayor and the chief of police, not forgetting ward bosses, church ministers, board members, and any and all who were concerned with public communications and news. The vast majority continued with their usual affairs, not only undisturbed by the masquerade but unaware that anything had happened.
Unless, of course, one of them happened to be in the way of some purpose of a master?in which case he was disposed of to shut his mouth. This used up potential hosts but there was no need to be economical.
One of the disadvantages we worked under in serving our masters?or perhaps I should say one of the disadvantages our masters worked under?was the difficulty of long-distance communication. It was limited to what human hosts could say in human speech over ordinary communication channels, and was further limited, unless the channel was secured throughout, to conventionalized code messages such as the one I had sent ordering the first two shipments of masters. Oh, no doubt the masters could communicate ship-to-ship and probably ship-to-home-base, but there was no ship nearby; this city had been stormed as a prize-of-opportunity, as a direct result of my raid on Des Moines in my previous life.
Such communication through servants was almost certainly not adequate to the purposes of the masters; they seemed to need frequent direct body-to-body conference to coordinate their actions. I am no expert in exotic psychologies; some of those who are maintain that the parasites are not discrete individuals, but cells of a larger organism, in which case?but why go on? They seemed to need direct-contact conferences. 
I was sent to New Orleans for such a conference.
I did not know I was going. I went out on the street as usual one morning, then went to the uptown launching platform and ordered a cab. Cabs were scarce; I thought about moving over to the other side and catching the public shuttle but the thought was immediately suppressed. After a considerable wait my cab was lifted to the loading ramp and I started to get in?I say "started to" as an old gentleman hustled up and climbed into it ahead of me.
I received an order to dispose of him, which order was immediately countermanded by one telling me to go slow and be careful, as if even the masters were not always sure of themselves. I said, "Excuse me, sir, but this cab is taken."
"Quite," the elderly man replied. "I've taken it." He was a picture of self-importance, from briefcase to dictatorial manner. He could easily have been a member of the Constitution Club, but he was not one of our own, as my master knew and told me.
"You will have to find another," I said reasonably. "Let's see your queue ticket." I had taken my ticket from the rack as soon as I reached the platform; the cab carried the launching number shown by my ticket.
I had him, but he did not stir. "Where are you going?" he demanded.
"New Orleans," I answered and learned for the first time my destination.
"Then you can drop me off in Memphis."
I shook my head. "It's out of my way."
"All of fifteen minutes!" He seemed to have difficulty controlling his temper, as if he were not often crossed. "You, sir, must know the rules about sharing cabs in these days of shortages. You cannot preempt a public vehicle unreasonably." He turned from me. "Driver! Explain to this person the rules." 
The driver stopped picking his teeth just long enough to say, "It's nothing to me. I pick 'em up, I take 'em, I drop 'em. Settle it between yourselves or I'll ask the dispatcher for another fare."
I hesitated, not yet having been instructed. Then I found myself chucking my bag in and climbing inside. "New Orleans," I said, "with stop at Memphis." The driver shrugged and signaled the control tower. The other passenger snorted and paid me no further attention.
Once in the air he opened his briefcase and spread papers across his knees. I watched him with disinterest. Presently I found myself shifting my position to let me get at my gun easily. The elderly man shot out a hand and grabbed my wrist. "Not so fast, son," he said, and his features broke into the Satanic grin of the Old Man himself.
My reflexes are fast, but I was at the disadvantage of having everything routed from me to my master, passed on by it, and action routed back to me. How much delay is that? A millisecond? I don't know. As I was drawing, I felt the bell of a gun against my ribs. "Take it easy."
With his other hand he thrust something against my side; I felt a prick, and then through me spread the warm tingle of a jolt of "morpheus" taking hold. I've been knocked out by that drug twice before and I've given it more times than that; I knew what it was.
I made one more attempt to pull my gun free and sank forward.
I was vaguely aware of voices?voices which had been going on for some time before I got around to sorting them out as meaning. Someone was handling me roughly and someone was saying, "Watch out for that ape!" Another voice replied, "It's all right; his tendons are cut," to which the first voice retorted, "He's still got teeth, hasn't he?"
Yes, I thought fretfully, and if you get close enough I'll bite you with them, too. The remark about cut tendons seemed to be true; none of my limbs would move, but that did not worry me as much as being called an ape and not being able to resent it. It was a shame, I thought, to call a man names when he can't protect himself.
I wept a little and then fell into a stupor.
"Feeling better, son?"
The Old Man was leaning over the end of my bed, staring at me thoughtfully. His chest was bare and covered with grizzled hair; he showed a slight paunch.
"Unh," I said, "pretty good, I guess." I started to sit up and found I could not move.
The Old Man came around to the side of the bed. "We can take those restraints off now," he said, fiddling with clasps. "Didn't want you hurting yourself. There!"
I sat up, rubbing myself. I was quite stiff. "Now," said the Old Man, "how much do you remember? Report." 
"Remember?"
"You were with them?remember? They caught you. Do you remember anything after the parasite got to you?"
I felt a sudden wild fear and clutched at the sides of the bed. "Boss! Boss?they know where this place is! I told them."
"No, they don't," he answered quietly, "because these aren't the Section offices you remember. Once I was convinced that you had made a clean getaway, I had the old offices evacuated. They don't know about this hang-out?I think. So you remember?" 
"Of course I remember. I got out of here?I mean out of the old offices and went up?" My thoughts raced ahead of my words; I had a sudden full image of holding a live, moist master in my bare hand, ready to place it on the back of the rental agent.
I threw up on the sheet. The Old Man took a corner of it, wiped my mouth, and said gently, "Go ahead." 
I swallowed and said, "Boss?they're all over the place! They've got the city."
"I know. Same as Des Moines. And Minneapolis, and St. Paul, and New Orleans, and Kansas City. Maybe more. I don't know?I can't be every place." He looked sour and added, "It's like fighting with your feet in a sack. We're losing, fast." He scowled and added, "We can't even clamp down on the cities we know about. It's very?" 
"Good grief! Why not?"
"You should know. Because 'older and wiser heads' than mine are still to be convinced that there is a war on. Because when they take over a city, everything goes on as before."
I stared at him. "Never mind," he said gently. "You are the first break we've had. You're the first victim to be recaptured alive?and now we find you remember what happened to you. That's important. And your parasite is the first live one we've managed to capture and keep alive. We'll have a chance to?"
He broke off. My face must have been a mask of terror; the notion that my master was still alive?and might get to me again?was more than I could stand.
The Old Man took my arm and shook it. "Take it easy, son," he said mildly. "You are still pretty sick and pretty weak." 
"Where is it?"
"Eh? The parasite? Don't worry about it. You can see it, if you wish; it's living off your opposite number, a red orangutan, name of Napoleon. It's safe." 
"Kill it!" 
"Hardly?we need it alive, for study."
I must have gone to pieces, for he slapped me a couple of times. "Take a brace," he said. "I hate to bother you when you are sick, but it's got to be done. We've got to get everything you remember down on wire. So level off and fly right."
I pulled myself together and started making a careful, detailed report of all that I could remember. I described renting the loft and recruiting my first victim, then how we moved on from there to the Constitution Club. The Old Man nodded. "Logical. You were a good agent, even for them. "
"You don't understand," I objected. "I didn't do any thinking. I knew what was going on, but that was all. It was as if, uh, as if?" I paused, stuck for words. 
"Never mind. Get on with it."
"After we recruited the club manager the rest was easy. We took them as they came in and?" 
"Names?"
"Oh, certainly. Myself, Greenberg?M. C. Greenberg, Thor Hansen, J. Hardwick Potter, his chauffeur Jim Wakeley, a little guy called 'Jake' who was washroom attendant at the club but I believe he had to be disposed of later?his master would not let him take time out for necessities. Then there was the manager; I never did get his name." I paused, letting my mind run back over that busy afternoon and evening in the club, trying to make sure of each recruit. "Oh my God!"
"What is it?"
"The Secretary?The Assistant Secretary of the Treasury." 
"You mean you got him?"
"Yes. The first day. What day was that? How long has it been? God, chief, the Treasury Department protect the President!"
But I was not talking to anyone; there was just a hole in the air where the Old Man had been.
I lay back exhausted. I started sobbing softly into my pillow. After a while I went to sleep.

IX
I woke up with my mouth foul, my head buzzing, and a vague sense of impending disaster. Nevertheless I felt fine, by comparison. A cheerful voice said, "Feeling better?"
A small brunet creature was bending over me. She was as cute a little bug as I have ever seen and I was well enough to appreciate the fact, however faintly. She was dressed in a very odd costume, what there was of it?skin-tight white shorts, a wisp of practically transparent stuff that restrained her breasts, but not much, and a sort of metal carapace that covered the back of her neck, her shoulders, and went on down her spine.
"Better," I admitted, then made a wry face. 
"Mouth taste unpleasant?" 
"Like a Balkan cabinet meeting."
"Here." She gave me some stuff in a glass; it was spicy and burned a little, and it washed away the bad taste at once. "No," she went on, "don't swallow it. Spit it out like a little man and I'll get you some water." I obeyed.
"I'm Doris Marsden," she went on, "your day nurse." 
"Glad to know you, Doris," I answered and stared at her with increasing appreciation. "Say?why the get up? Not that I don't like it, but you look like a refugee from a comic book."
She looked down at herself and giggled. "I feel like a chorus girl. But you'll get used to it?I did." 
"I'm already used to it. I like it fine. But why?" 
"The Old Man's orders."
I started to ask why again, then I knew why, and I started feeling worse again. I shut up. Doris went on, "Now for some supper." She got a tray and sat down on my bed.
"I don't believe I want anything to eat." 
"Open up," she said firmly, "or I'll rub it in your hair. There! That's a good boy."
Between gulps, taken in self-defense, I managed to get out, "I feel pretty good. Give me one jolt of 'gyro' and I'll be back on my feet."
"No stimulants for you," she said flatly, still shoveling it in. "Special diet and lots of rest, with maybe a sleepy pill later. That's what the man says." 
"What's wrong with me?"
"Extreme exhaustion, starvation, and the first case of scurvy I ever saw in all my born days. As well as scabies and lice?but we got those whipped. There, now you know?and if you tell the doctor I told you, I'll call you a liar to your face. Turn over on your tummy."
I did so and she started changing dressings. I appeared to be spotted with sores; the stuff she used stung a bit, then felt cool. I thought about what she had told me and tried to remember just how I had lived under my master.
"Stop trembling," she said. "Are you having a bad one?"
"I'm all right," I told her. I did manage to stop shaking and to think it over calmly. As near as I could remember I had not eaten during that period oftener than every second or third day. Bathing? Let me see?why, I hadn't bathed at all! I had shaved every day and put on a clean shirt; that was a necessary part of the masquerade and the master knew it.
On the other hand, so far as I could remember, I had never taken off my shoes from the time I had stolen them until the Old Man had recaptured me?and they had been too tight to start with. "What sort of shape are my feet in?" I asked.
"Don't be nosy," Doris advised me. "Now turn over on your back."
I like nurses; they are calm and earthy and very tolerant. Miss Briggs, my night nurse, was not the mouth-watering job that Doris was; she had a face like a jaundiced horse?but she had a fine figure for a woman her age, hard and well cared for. She wore the same sort of musical-comedy rig that Doris sported, but she wore it with a no-nonsense air and walked like a grenadier guard. Doris, bless her heart, jiggled pleasantly as she walked.
Miss Briggs refused to give me a second sleeping pill when I woke up in the night and had the horrors, but she did play poker with me and skinned me out of half a month's pay. I tried to find out from her about the President matter, for I figured the Old Man had either won or lost by that time. But she wasn't talking. She would not admit that she knew anything about parasites, flying saucers, or what not?and she herself sitting there dressed in a costume that could have only one purpose!
I asked her what the public news was, then? She maintained that she had been too busy lately to look at a 'cast. So I asked to have a stereo box moved into my room, so I could catch a newscast. She said I would have to ask the doctor about that; I was on the 'quiet' list. I asked when in the deuce I was going to see this so-called doctor? She said she didn't know; the doctor had been very busy lately. I asked how many other patients there were in the infirmary anyway? She said she really didn't remember. About then her call bell sounded and she left, presumably to see another patient.
I fixed her. While she was gone, I cold-decked the next deal, so that she got a pat hand?then I wouldn't bet against her.
I got to sleep later on and was awakened by Miss Briggs slapping me in the face with a cold, wet washcloth. She got me ready for breakfast, then Doris relieved her and brought it to me. This time I fed myself and while I was chomping I tackled her for news?with the same perfect score I had made with Miss Briggs. Nurses run a hospital as if it were a nursery for backward children.
Davidson came around to see me after breakfast. "Heard you were here," he said. He was wearing shorts and nothing else, except that his left arm was covered by a dressing.
"More than I've heard," I complained. "What happened to you?" 
"Bee stung me."
I dropped that subject; if he didn't want to tell how he had gotten burned, that was his business. I went on, "The Old Man was in here yesterday, getting my report, when he left very suddenly. Seen him since?" 
"Yep." 
"Well?" I answered.
"Well, how about you? Are you straightened out? Have the psych boys cleared you for classified matters, or not?"
"Is there any doubt about it?"
"You're darn tootin' there's doubt. Poor old Jarvis never did pull out of it."
"Huh?" I hadn't thought about Jarvis. "How is he now?"
"He isn't. Never did get right in his head. Dropped into a coma and died the next day?the day after you left. I mean the day after you were captured. No apparent reason?just died." Davidson looked me over. "You must be tough."
I did not feel tough. I felt tears of weakness welling up again and I blinked them back. Davidson pretended not to see and went on conversationally, "You should have seen the ruckus after you gave us the slip. The Old Man took out after you wearing nothing but a gun and a look of grim determination. He would have caught you, too, my money says?but the civil police picked him up and we had to get him out of hock." Davidson grinned.
I grinned feebly myself. There was something both gallant and silly about the Old Man charging out to save the world single-handed dressed in his birthday suit. "Sorry I missed it. But what else has happened?lately?"
Davidson looked me over carefully, then said, "Wait a minute." He stepped out of the room and was gone a short time. When he came back, he said, "The Old Man says it's all right. What do you want to know?" 
"Everything! What happened yesterday?" 
"I was in on that one," he answered, "That's how I got this." He waved his damaged wing at me, "I was lucky," he added, "three agents were killed. Quite a fracas."
"But how did it come out? How about the President? Was he?"
Doris hustled into the room. "Oh, there you are!" she said to Davidson. "I told you to stay in bed. You're due in prosthetics at Mercy Hospital right now. The ambulance has been waiting for ten minutes." 
He stood up, grinned at her, and pinched her cheek with his good hand. "The party can't start until I get there." 
"Well, hurry!" 
"Coming." He started out the door with her. 
I called out, "Hey! How about the President?" 
Davidson paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, him? He's all right?not a scratch on him." He went on.
Doris came back a few minutes later, fuming. "Patients!" she said, like a swear word. "Do you know why they call them 'patients'? Because it's patience you have to have to put up with them. I should have had at least twenty minutes for his injection to take hold; as it was I gave it to him when he got into the ambulance." 
"Injection for what?" 
"Didn't he tell you?" 
"No."
"Well . . . no reason not to tell you. Amputation and graft, lower left arm."
"Oh." Well, I thought, I won't hear the end of the story from Davidson; grafting on a new limb is a shock. They usually keep the patient hopped up for at least ten days. I wondered about the Old Man: had he come out of it alive? Of course he had, I reminded myself; Davidson checked with him before he talked.
But that didn't mean he hadn't been wounded. I tackled Doris again. "How about the Old Man? Is he on the sick list? Or would it be a violation of your sacred run-around rules to tell me?"
"You talk too much," she answered. "It's time for your morning nourishment and your nap." She produced a glass of milky slop, magician fashion.
"Speak up, wench, or I'll spit it back in your face." 
"The Old Man? You mean the Chief of Section?" 
"Who else?"
"He's not on the sick list, at least not here." She shivered and made a face. "I wouldn't want him as a patient."
I was inclined to agree with her.

X
For two or three more days I was kept wrapped in swaddling clothing and treated like a child. I did not care; it was the first real rest I had had in years. Probably they were slipping me sedatives; I noticed that I was always ready to sleep each time after they fed me. The sores got much better and presently I was encouraged?"required" I should say?by Doris to take light exercise around the room.
The Old Man called on me. "Well," he said, "still malingering, I see."
I flushed. "Damn your black, flabby heart," I told him. "Get me a pair of pants and I'll show you who is malingering."
"Slow down, slow down." He took my chart from the foot of my bed and looked it over. "Nurse," he said, "get this man a pair of shorts. I'm restoring him to duty."
Doris faced up to him like a banty hen. "Now see here," she said, "you may be the big boss, but you can't give orders here. The doctor will?"
"Stow it!" he said, "and get those drawers. When the doctor comes in, send him to me." 
"But?"
He picked her up, swung her around, paddled her behind, and said, "Git!"
She went out, squawking and sputtering, and came back shortly, not with clothes for me, but with the doctor. The Old Man looked around and said mildly, "Doc, I sent for pants, not for you."
The medico said stiffly, "I'll thank you not to interfere with my patients."
"He's not your patient. I need him, so I am restoring him to duty."
"Yes? Sir, if you do not like the way I run my department, you may have my resignation at once." 
The Old Man is stubborn but not bull-headed. He answered, "I beg your pardon, sir. Sometimes I become too preoccupied with other problems to remember to follow correct procedure. Will you do me the favor of examining this patient? I need him; if he can possibly be restored to duty, it would help me to have his services at once."
The doctor's jaw muscles were jumping, but all he said was, "Certainly, sir!" He went through a show of studying my chart, then had me sit on the bed while he tested my reflexes. Personally, I thought they were mushy. He peeled back my eyelids, flashed a light in my eye, and said, "He needs more recuperation time?but you may have him. Nurse?fetch clothing for this man."
Clothing consisted of shorts and shoes; I had been better dressed in a hospital gown. But everybody else was dressed the same way, and it was downright comforting to see all those bare shoulders with no masters clinging to them. I told the Old Man so. "Best defense we've got," he growled, "even if it does make the joint look like a ruddy summer colony. If we don't win this set-to before winter weather, we're licked." 
The Old Man stopped at a door with a freshly lettered sign: BIOLOGICAL LABORATORY?STAY OUT! He dilated the door.
I hung back. "Where are we going?"
"Going to take a look at your twin brother, the ape with your parasite."
"That's what I thought. Not for me?no point in it. No, thanks!" I could feel myself begin to tremble.
The Old Man paused. "Now, look, son," he said patiently, "you've got to get over your panic. The best way is to face up to it. I know it's hard?I've spent a good many hours in here myself, just staring at the thing, getting used to it."
"You don't know?you can't know!" I had the shakes so badly now that I had to steady myself by the doorframe.
He looked at me. "I suppose it's different," he said slowly, "when you've actually had it. Jarvis?" He broke off.
"You're darn right it's different! You're not going to get me in there!"
"No, I guess not. Well, the doctor was right. Go on back, son, and turn yourself in at the infirmary." His tones were regretful rather than angry. He turned and started into the laboratory.
He had gotten three or four steps away before I called out, "Boss!"
He stopped and turned, his face expressionless. "Wait," I added, "I'm coming." 
"You don't have to."
"I know. I'll do it. It?It just takes . . . a while?to get your nerve back."
He did not answer but, as I came alongside him, he grasped my upper arm, warmly and affectionately, and continued to hold it as we walked, as if I were a girl. We went on in, through another locked door and into a room that was conditioned warm and moist. The ape was there, caged.
He sat facing us, his torso supported and restrained by a strap-metal framework. His arms and legs hung limply, as if he had no control over them?which he did not have, as I learned.
As we came in he looked up and at us. For an instant his eyes were malevolent and intelligent; then the fire died out and they were merely the eyes of a dumb brute, a brute in pain.
"Around to the side," the Old Man said softly. I would have hung back but he still had me by the arm. We moved around; the ape followed us with his eyes, but his body was held by the frame. From the new position I could see?it.
My master. The thing that had ridden my back for an endless time, spoken with my mouth?thought with my brain. My master.
"Steady," the Old Man said softly. "Steady. You'll get used to it." He shook my arm. "Look away for a bit. It helps."
I did so and it did help. Not much, but some. I took a couple of deep breaths, then held it and managed to slow my heart down a little. I made myself stare at it.
It is not the appearance of a parasite which arouses horror. True, they are disgustingly ugly, but not more so than slime in a pond?not as much so as maggots in garbage.
Nor was the horror entirely from knowing what they could do?for I felt the horror the first time I saw one, before I really knew what one was. I tried to tell the Old Man about it, letting the talk steady me. He nodded, his eyes still on the parasite. "It's the same with everybody," he said. "Unreasoned fear, like a bird with a snake. Probably its prime weapon." He let his own eyes drift away, as if too long a sight of it were too much even for his rawhide nerves.
I stuck with him, trying to get used to it and gulping at my breakfast but not losing it. I kept telling myself that I was safe from it, that it couldn't harm me.
I looked away again and found the Old Man's eyes on me. "How about it?" he said. "Getting hardened to it?"
I looked back at it. "A little." I went on savagely, "All I want to do is to kill it! I want to kill all of them?I could spend my whole life killing them and killing them." I began to shake again.
The Old Man continued to study me. "Here," he said, and handed me his gun.
It startled me. I was unarmed myself, having come straight from bed. I took it but looked back at him questioningly. "Huh? What for?"
"You want to kill it, don't you? If you feel that you have to?go ahead. Kill it. Right now." 
"Huh? But?Look here, boss, you told me you needed this one for study."
"I do. But if you need to kill it, if you feel that you have to kill it, do so. I figure this particular one is your baby; you're entitled to it. If you need to kill it, to make you a whole man again, go ahead."
" 'To make me a whole man again?' " The thought rang through my head. The Old Man knew, better than I knew, what was wrong with me, what medicine it would take to cure me. I was no longer trembling; I stood there, the gun cradled in my hand, ready to spit and kill. My master . . .
If I killed this one I would be a free man again?but I would never be free as long as it lived. Surely, I wanted to kill them, every one of them, search them out, burn them, kill them?but this one above all.
My master . . . still my master unless I killed it. I had a dark and certain thought that if I were alone with it, I would be able to do nothing, that I would freeze and wait while it crawled up me and settled again between my shoulder blades, searched out my spinal column, took possession of my brain and my very inner self. 
But now I could kill it!
No longer frightened but fiercely exultant I raised the gun, ready to squeeze the trigger. 
The Old Man watched me.
I lowered the gun a little and said uncertainly, "Boss, suppose I do kill it. You've got others?" 
"No." 
"But you need it." 
"Yes."
"Well, but?For the love o' God, why did you give me the gun?"
"You know why. This one is yours; you've got first claim. If you have to kill it, go ahead. If you can pass it up, then the Section will use it."
I had to kill it. Even if we killed all the others, while this one was still alive I would still crouch and tremble in the dark. As for the others, for study?why, we could capture a dozen any time at the Constitution Club. With this one dead I'd lead the raid myself. Breathing rapidly, I raised the gun again.
Then I turned and chucked the gun to the Old Man; he plucked it out of the air and put it away. "What happened?" he asked. "You were all set."
"Uh? I don't know. When it got right down to it, it was enough to know that I could." 
"I figured that it would be."
I felt warm and relaxed, as if I had just killed a man or had a woman?as if I had just killed it. I was able to turn my back on it and face the Old Man. I was not even angry with him for what he had done; instead I felt warm toward him, even affectionate. "I know you did, damn you. How does it feel to be a puppet master?"
He did not take the jibe as a joke. Instead he answered soberly, "Not me. The most I ever do is to lead a man on the path he wants to follow. There is the puppet master." He hooked a thumb at the parasite.
I looked around at it. "Yes," I agreed softly, " 'the puppet master'. You think you know what you mean by that?but you don't. And boss . . . I hope you never do." 
"I hope so, too," he answered seriously.
I could look now without trembling. I even started to put my hands in my pockets, but the shorts had no pockets. Still staring at it, I went on, "Boss, when you are through with it, if there is anything left, then I'll kill it." 
"That's a promise."
We were interrupted by a man bustling into the cage room. He was dressed in shorts and a lab coat; it made him look silly. I did not recognize him?it was not Graves; I never saw Graves again; I imagine the Old Man ate him for lunch.
"Chief," he said, trotting up, "I did not know you were in here. I?"
"Well, I am," the Old Man cut in. "What are you doing wearing a coat?" The Old Man's gun was out and pointed at the man's chest.
The man stared at the gun as if it were a bad joke. "Why, I was working, of course. There is always a chance of splattering one's self. Some of our solutions are rather?" 
"Take it off!" 
"Eh?"
The Old Man waggled his gun at him. To me he said, "Get ready to take him."
The man took his coat off. He stood there holding it and biting his lip. His back and shoulders were bare, nor was there the telltale rash. "Take that damned coat and burn it," the Old Man told him. "Then get back to your work."
The man hurried away, his face red, then hesitated, glanced at me, and said to the Old Man, "Chief, are you ready for that, uh, procedure?" 
"Shortly. I'll let you know."
The man opened his mouth, closed it, and left. The Old Man wearily put his gun away. "Post an order," he muttered. "Read it aloud. Make everybody sign for it?tattoo it on their narrow little chests?and some smart Aleck thinks it doesn't apply to him. Scientists!" He said the last word in the way in which Doris had said, "Patients!"
I turned back to looking at my former master. It still revolted me, but there was a gusty feeling of danger, too, that was not totally unpleasant?like standing on a very high place. "Boss," I asked, "what are you going to do with this thing?"
He looked at me, rather than at the slug. "I plan to interview it."
"To what? But how can you? What I want to say is: the ape, I mean?"
"No, the ape can't talk. That's the hitch. We'll have to have a volunteer?a human volunteer." 
When his words sank in and I began to visualize what he meant by them the horror struck me again almost full force. "You can't mean that. You wouldn't do that?not to anybody."
"I could and I'm going to. What needs to be done will be done." 
"You won't get any volunteers!" 
"I've already got one." 
"You have? Who?"
"But I don't want to use the volunteer I've got. I'm still looking for the right man."
I was disgusted and showed it. "You ought not to be looking for anyone, volunteer or not. And if you've got one, I'll bet you won't find another; there can't be two people that far out of their minds."
"Possibly," he agreed. "But I still don't want the one I've got. The interview is a necessity, son; we are fighting a war with a total lack of military intelligence. We don't know anything, really, about our enemy. We can't negotiate with him, we don't know where he comes from, nor what makes him tick. We've got to find out; our racial existence depends on it. The only?the only way to talk to these critters is through a human volunteer. So it will be done. But I'm still looking for a volunteer." 
"Well, don't look at me!" 
"I am looking at you."
My answer had been half wisecrack; his answer turned it dead serious and startled me speechless. I finally managed to splutter, "You're crazy! I should have killed it when I had your gun?and I would have if I had known what you wanted it for. But as for me volunteering to let you put that thing?No! I've had it."
He ploughed on through as if he had not heard me. "It can't be just any volunteer; it has to be a man who can take it. Jarvis wasn't stable enough, nor tough enough in some fashion to stand up under it. We know you are."
"Me? You don't know anything of the sort. All you know is that I lived through it once. I . . . I couldn't stand it again."
"Well, maybe it will kill you," he answered calmly, "but it is less likely to kill you than someone else. You are proved and salted; you ought to be able to do it standing on your head. With anyone else I run more risk of losing an agent."
"Since when did you worry about risking an agent?" I said bitterly.
"Since always, believe me. I am giving you one more chance, son: are you going to do this, knowing that it has to be done and that you stand the best chance of anybody?and can be of most use to us, because you are used to it?or are you going to let some other agent risk his reason and probably his life in your place?"
I started to try to explain how I felt, that I was not afraid to die, no more than is normal, but that I could not stand the thought of dying while possessed by a parasite. Somehow I felt that to die so would be to die already consigned to an endless and unbearable hell. Even worse was the prospect of not dying once the slug touched me. But I could not say it; there were still no words to describe what the race had not experienced.
I shrugged. "You can have my appointment back. There is a limit to what one man can be expected to go through and I've reached it. I won't do it." 
He turned to the intercom phone on the wall. "Laboratory," he called out, "we'll start the experiment right now. Hurry it up!"
The answering voice I recognized as that of the man who had walked in on us. "Which subject?" he asked. "It affects the measurements." 
"The original volunteer." 
"That's the smaller rig?" the voice asked doubtfully. 
"Right. Get it in here."
I started for the door. The Old Man snapped, "Where do you think you are going?"
"Out," I snapped back. "I'm having no part of this."
He grabbed me and spun me around as if he had been the bigger and younger. "No, you don't. You know more about these things than the rest of us; your advice could be of help." 
"Let go of me."
"You'll stay and watch!" he said savagely, "strapped down or free to move, as you choose. I've made allowance for your illness but I've had enough of your nonsense."
I was too weary to buck him; I felt nervously exhausted, tired in my bones. "You're the boss."
The lab people wheeled in a metal framework, a sort of chair, more like a Sing Sing special than anything else. There were metal clamps for ankles and knees, more of the same on the chair arms for the wrists and elbows. There was a corselet effect to restrain the waist and the lower part of the chest, but the back was cut away so that the shoulders of the person unfortunate enough to sit in it would be free.
They brought it over and placed it beside the ape's cage, then removed the back panel of the cage and the panel on the side nearest the "chair" rig.
The ape watched the procedure with intent, aware eyes, but his limbs still dangled helplessly. Nevertheless, I became still more disturbed at the cage being thus opened. Only the Old Man's threat of placing me under restraint kept me from leaving.
The technicians stood back and waited, apparently ready for the job. The outer door opened and several people came in; among them was Mary.
I was caught off balance by her sudden appearance; I had been wanting to see her and had tried several times to get word to her through the nurses?but they either honestly could not identify her or had received instructions. Now I saw her first under these circumstances. I cursed the Old Man to myself, knowing it was useless to object. It was no sort of a show to bring a woman to, even if the woman was an agent. There ought to be some sort of decent limits somewhere.
Mary saw me, looked surprised, and nodded. I let it go with a nod myself; it was no time for small talk. She was looking good, as always, though very sober. She was dressed in the same sort of costume as the nurses had worn, shorts and a skimpy halter, but she did not have on the ludicrous metal helmet and back plate.
The others in the party were men. They wore shorts, like the Old Man and myself. They were loaded with recording and stereo equipment as well as other apparatus.
"Ready?" inquired the lab chief. 
"Get going," answered the Old Man.
Mary walked straight to the metal chair and sat down in it. Two of the technicians knelt at her feet and started busying themselves with the clamps. Mary reached behind her, unfastened her halter and let it fall, leaving her back bare.
I looked at this in a frozen daze, as if caught in a nightmare. Then I had grabbed the Old Man by the shoulders and had literally thrown him aside and I was standing by the chair, kicking the technicians out of the way. "Mary!" I screamed, "get up out of there!" 
Now the Old Man had his gun on me and was motioning me back with it. "Away from her," he ordered. "You three?grab him and tie him up."
I looked at the gun, then I looked down at Mary. She said nothing and did not move; in fact her feet were already bound. She simply looked at me with compassionate eyes. "Get up from there, Mary," I said dully, "I want to sit down."
They removed the chair Mary had sat in and brought in another, larger one. I could not have used hers; both of them were tailored to size. When they finished clamping me in place I might as well have been cast into concrete. Once secured, my back began to itch unbearably, although nothing, as yet, had touched it.
Mary was no longer in the room; whether she had left or had been ordered out by the Old Man I do not know and it did not seem to matter. The Old Man stepped up to me after I had been prepared, laid a hand on my arm, and said quietly, "Thanks, son." 
I did not bother to answer.
I did not see them handle the parasite as it took place behind my back. There was a rig which I had seen them bring in which appeared to be modified from the remote-handling gear used on radioactives; no doubt they used that. I was not interested enough to look, even if I had been able to turn my head far enough, which I couldn't.
Once the ape barked and screamed and someone shouted, "Watch it!"
There was a dead silence as if everyone was holding his breath?then something moist touched the back of my neck and I fainted.
I came out of it with the same tingling energy I had experienced once before. I knew I was in a tight spot, but I was warily determined to think my way out of it. I was not afraid; I was contemptuous of those around me and sure that in the long run I could outwit them. 
The Old Man said sharply, "Can you hear me?" 
I answered, "Of course I can. Quit shouting." 
"Do you remember what we are here for?" 
I said, "Naturally I remember. You want to ask some questions. What are you waiting for?" 
"What are you?" 
"Now that's a silly question. Take a look at me. I'm six feet one, more muscle than brain, and I weigh?" 
"Not you. You know to whom I am talking?you." 
"Guessing games?"
The Old Man waited a bit before replying, "It will do you no good to pretend that I don't know what you are?" 
"Ah, but you don't."
"Or, rather, that I don't know that you are a parasite talking through the body of a man. You know that I have been studying you all the time you have been living on the body of that ape. I know things about you which give me an advantage over you. One?" He started ticking them off. 
"You can be killed.
"Two, you can be hurt. You don't like electric shock and you can't stand the amount of heat even a man can stand.
"Three, you are helpless without your host. I could have you removed from this man and you would die.
"Four, you have no powers except those you borrow from your host?and your host is helpless. Try your bonds; then be sensible. You must cooperate?or die."
I listened with half an ear; I had already been trying my bonds, neither hoping nor fearing, but finding them, as I expected, impossible to escape. This did not worry me; I had neither worries nor fears. I was oddly contented to be back with my master, to be free of troubles and tensions. My business was to serve and the future would take care of itself.
In the meantime I must be alert, ready to serve him.
One ankle strap seemed less tight than the other; possibly I might drag my foot through it. I checked on the arm clamps; perhaps if I relaxed my muscles completely?
But I made no effort to escape. An instruction came at once?or, I made a decision, for the words mean the same; I tell you there was no conflict between my master and me; we were one?instruction or decision, I knew it was not time to risk an escape. I ran my eyes around the room, trying to figure who was armed and who was not. It was my guess that only the Old Man was armed; that bettered the chances.
Somewhere, deep down, was that dull ache of guilt and despair never experienced by any but the servants of the masters?but I was much too busy with the problem at hand to be troubled by it.
"Well?" the Old Man went on. "Do you answer my questions, or do I punish you?"
"What questions?" I asked. "Up to now, you've been talking nonsense."
The Old Man turned to one of the technicians. "Give me the tickler."
I felt no apprehension although I did not understand what it was he had asked for. I was still busy checking my bonds. If I could tempt him into placing his gun within my reach?assuming that I could get one arm free?then I might be able to?
He reached past my shoulders with a rod. I felt a shocking, unbearable pain. The room blacked out as if a switch had been thrown and for an undying instant I was jolted and twisted by hurt. I was split apart by it; for the moment I was masterless.
The pain left, leaving only its searing memory behind. Before I could speak, or even think coherently for myself, the splitting away had ended and I was again safe in the arms of my master. But for the first and only time in my service to him I was not myself free of worry; some of his own wild fear and pain was passed on to me, the servant.
I looked down and saw a line of red welling out of my left wrist; in my struggles I had cut myself on the clamp. It did not matter; I would tear off hands and feet and escape from there on bloody stumps, if escape for my master were possible that way.
"Well," asked the Old Man, "how did you like the taste of that?"
The panic that possessed me washed away; I was again filled with an unworried sense of well being, albeit wary and watchful. My wrists and ankles, which had begun to pain me, stopped hurting. "Why did you do that?" I asked. "Certainly, you can hurt me?but why?" 
"Answer my questions." 
"Ask them." 
"What are you?"
The answer did not come at once. The Old Man reached for the rod; I heard myself saying, "We are the people." 
"The people? What people?"
"The only people. We have studied you and we know your ways. We?" I stopped suddenly.
"Keep talking," the Old Man said grimly, and gestured with the rod.
"We come," I went on, "to bring you?" 
"To bring us what?"
I wanted to talk; the rod was terrifyingly close. But there was some difficulty with words. "To bring you peace," I blurted out. 
The Old Man snorted.
" 'Peace'," I went on, "and contentment?and the joy of?of surrender." I hesitated again; "surrender" was not the right word. I struggled with it the way one struggles with a poorly grasped foreign language. "The joy," I repeated, "?the joy of . . . nirvana." That was it; the word fitted. I felt like a dog being patted for fetching a stick; I wriggled with pleasure.
"Let me get this," the Old Man said thoughtfully. "You are promising the human race that, if we will just surrender to your kind, you will take care of us and make us happy. Right?" 
"Exactly!"
The Old Man studied me for a long moment, looking, not at my face, but past my shoulders. He spat upon the floor. "You know," he said slowly, "me and my kind, we have often been offered that bargain, though maybe not on such a grand scale. It never worked out worth a damn."
I leaned forward as much as the rig would allow. "Try it yourself," I suggested. "It can be done quickly?and then you will know."
He stared at me, this time in my face. "Maybe I should," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe I owe it to?somebody, to try it. And maybe I will, someday. But right now," he went on briskly, "you have more questions to answer. Answer them quick and proper and stay healthy. Be slow about it and I'll step up the current." He brandished the rod.
I shrank back, feeling dismay and defeat. For a moment I had thought he was going to accept the offer and I had been planning the possibilities of escape that could develop. "Now," he went on, "where do you come from?" 
No answer . . . I felt no urge to answer. 
The rod came closer. "Far away!" I burst out.
"That's not news. Tell me where? Where's your home base, your own planet?"
I had no answer. The Old Man waited a moment, then said, "I see I'll have to touch up your memory." I watched dully, thinking nothing at all. He was interrupted by one of the bystanders. "Eh?" said the Old Man.
"There may be a semantic difficulty," the other repeated. "Different astronomical concepts."
"Why should there be?" asked the Old Man. "That slug is using borrowed language throughout. He knows what his host knows; we've proved that." Nevertheless he turned back and started a different tack. "See here?you savvy the solar system; is your planet inside it or outside it?" 
I hesitated, then answered, "All planets are ours." 
The Old Man pulled at his lip. "I wonder," he mused, "just what you mean by that?" He went on, "Never mind; you can claim the whole damned universe; I want to know where your nest is? Where is your home base? Where do your ships come from?" 
I could not have told him and did not; I sat silent.
Before I could anticipate it he reached behind me with the rod; I felt one smashing blow of pain, then it was gone. "Now, talk, damn you! What planet? Mars? Venus? Jupiter? Saturn? Uranus? Neptune? Pluto? Kalki?" As he ticked them off, I saw them?and I have never been as far off Earth as the space stations. When he came to the right one, I knew?and the thought was instantly snatched from me. 
"Speak up," he went on, "or feel the whip." 
I heard myself saying, "None of them. Our home is much farther away. You could never find it." 
He looked past my shoulders and then into my eyes. "I think you are lying. I think you need some juice to keep you honest." 
"No, no!"
"No harm to try." Slowly he thrust the rod past me, behind me. I knew the answer again and was about to give it, when something grabbed my throat. Then the pain started.
It did not stop. I was being torn apart; I tried to talk, to tell, anything to stop the pain?but the hand still clutched my throat and I could not.
Through a clearing blur of pain I saw the Old Man's face, shimmering and floating. "Had enough?" he asked. "Ready to talk?" I started to answer, but I choked and gagged. I saw him reach out again with the rod.
I burst into pieces and died.
They were leaning over me. Someone said, "He's coming around. Watch him; he might be violent." 
The Old Man's face was over mine, his expression worried. "Are you all right, son?" he asked anxiously. I turned my face away.
"One side, please," another voice said. "Let me give him the injection." 
"Will his heart stand it?"
"Certainly?or I wouldn't give it to him." The speaker knelt by me, took my arm, and gave me a shot. He stood up, looked at his hands, then wiped them on his shorts; they left bloody streaks.
I felt strength flowing back into me. "Gyro", I thought absently, or something like it. Whatever it was, it was pulling me back together. Shortly I sat up, unassisted.
I was still in the cage room, directly in front of that damnable chair. The cage, I noticed without interest, was closed again. I started to get to my feet; the Old Man stepped forward and gave me a hand. I shook him off. "Don't touch me!"
"Sorry," he answered, then snapped, "Jones! You and Ito?get the litter. Take him back to the infirmary. Doc, you go along."
"Certainly." The man who had given me the shot stepped forward and started to take my arm. I drew away from him.
"Keep your hands off me!"
He stopped. "Get away from me?all of you. Just leave me alone." The doctor looked at the Old Man, who shrugged, then motioned them all back. Alone, I went to the door, through it, and on out through the outer door into the passageway.
I paused there, looked at my wrists and ankles and decided that I might as well go back to the infirmary. Doris would take care of me, I was sure, and then maybe I could sleep. I felt as if I had gone fifteen rounds and lost every one of them. 
"Sam, Sam!"
I looked up; I knew that voice. Mary hurried up and was standing before me, looking at me with great sorrowful eyes. "I've been waiting," she said. "Oh, Sam! What have they done to you?" Her voice was so choked that I could hardly understand her.
"You should know," I answered, and found I had strength enough left to slap her. 
"Bitch," I added.
The room I had had was still empty, but I did not find Doris. I was aware that I had been followed, probably by the doctor, but I wanted no part of him nor any of them just then; I closed the door. Then I lay face down on the bed and tried to stop thinking or feeling anything.
Presently I heard a gasp, and opened one eye; there was Doris. "What in the world?" she exclaimed and came over to me. I felt her gentle hands on me. "Why, you poor, poor baby!" Then she added, "Just stay there, don't try to move. I'll get the doctor." 
"No!" 
"But you've got to have the doctor." 
"No. I won't see him. You help me."
She did not answer. Presently I heard her go out. She came back shortly?I think it was shortly?and started to bathe my wounds. The doctor was not with her.
She was not more than half my size but she lifted me and turned me when she needed to as if I had been the baby she had called me. I was not surprised by it; I knew she could take care of me.
I wanted to scream when she touched my back. But she dressed it quickly and said, "Over easy, now." 
"I'll stay face down."
"No," she denied, "I want you to drink something, that's a good boy."
I turned over, with her doing most of the work, and drank what she gave me. After a bit I went to sleep.
I seem to remember being awakened later, seeing the Old Man and cursing him out. The doctor was there too?or it could just as well have been a dream.
Miss Briggs woke me up and Doris brought me breakfast; it was as if I had never been off the sick list. Doris wanted to feed me but I was well able to do it myself. Actually I was not in too bad shape. I was stiff and sore and felt as if I had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel; there were dressings on both arms and both legs where I had cut myself on the clamps, but no bones were broken. Where I was sick was in my soul.
Don't misunderstand me. The Old Man could send me into a dangerous spot?and had done so, more than once?and I would not hold it against him. That I had signed up for. But I had not signed up for what he had done to me. He knew what made me tick and he had deliberately used it to force me into something I would never have agreed to, had I not been jockeyed into it. Then after he had gotten me where he wanted me, he had used me unmercifully.
Oh, I've slapped men around to make them talk. Sometimes you have to. But this was different. Believe me.
It was the Old Man that really hurt. Mary? After all, what was she? Just another babe. True, I was disgusted with her to the bottom of my soul for letting the Old Man talk her into being used as bait. It was all right for her to use her femaleness as an agent; the Section had to have female operatives; they could do things men could not do. There have always been female spies and the young and pretty ones had always used the same tools.
But she should not have agreed to use them against another agent, inside her own Section?at least, she should not have used them against me.
Not very logical, is it? It was logical to me. Mary shouldn't have done it.
I was through, I was finished. They could go ahead with Operation Parasite without me; I'd had it. I owned a cabin up in the Adirondacks; I had enough stuff there in deep freeze to carry me for years?well, a year, anyhow. I had plenty of tempus pills and could get more; I would go up there and use them?and the world could save itself, or go to hell, without me.
If anyone came within a hundred yards of me, he would either show a bare back or be burned down.

XI
I had to tell somebody about it and Doris was the goat. It may have been classified information but I did not give a hoot. It turned out that Doris knew all about Operation Parasite; there was no reason to try to keep any part of it secret. The trouble was to make it not a secret?but I am ahead of myself.
Doris was indignant?shucks, she was sore as a boiled owl. She had dressed what they had done to me. Of course, as a nurse, she had dressed a lot worse, but this had been done by our own people. I blurted out how I felt about Mary's part in it. "You know that old slaughterhouse trick," I asked her, "where they train one animal to lead the others in? That's what they got Mary to do to me."
She had not heard of it, but she understood me. "Do I understand you that you had wanted to marry this girl?" 
"Correct. Stupid, ain't I?"
"All men are, about women?but that's not the point. It does not make any difference whether she wanted to marry you or not; her knowing that you wanted to marry her makes what she did about eight thousand times worse. She knew what she could do to you. It wasn't fair." She stopped massaging me, her eyes snapping. "I've never met your redhead, not yet?but if I ever do, I'll scratch her face!"
I smiled at her. "You're a good kid, Doris. I believe you would play fair with a man."
"Oh, I'm no angel, and I've pulled some fast ones in my time. But if I did anything halfway like that. I'd have to break every mirror I own. Turn a bit, and I'll get the other leg."
Mary showed up. The first I knew about it was hearing Doris say angrily, "You can't come in." 
Mary's voice answered, "I'm going in. Try to stop me."
Doris squealed, "Stay where you are?or I'll pull that hennaed hair out by the roots!"
There was a short silence, sounds of a scuffle?and the smack! of someone getting slapped, hard. I yelled out, "Hey! What goes on?"
They appeared in the doorway together. Doris was breathing hard and her hair was mussed. Mary managed to look dignified and composed, but there was a bright red patch on her left cheek the size and shape of Doris's hand. She looked at me and ignored the nurse.
Doris caught her breath and said, "You get out of here. He doesn't want to see you." 
Mary said, "I'll hear that from him."
I looked at them both, then said, "Oh, what the hell?Doris, she's here; I'll talk to her. I've got some things to tell her, in any case. Thanks for trying." 
Doris waited a moment, then said, "You're a fool!" and flounced out.
Mary came over to the bed. "Sam," she said. "Sam." 
"My name isn't 'Sam'." 
"I've never known your right name." 
I hesitated. It was no time to explain to her that my parents had been silly enough to burden me with 'Elihu'. I answered, "What of it? 'Sam' will do." 
"Sam," she repeated. "Oh Sam, my dear." 
"I am not your 'dear'."
She inclined her head. "Yes, I know that. I don't know why. Sam, I came here to find out why you hate me. Perhaps I can't change it, but I must know why." 
I made some sound of disgust. "After what you did, you don't know why? Mary, you may be a cold fish, but you aren't stupid. I know; I've worked with you." 
She shook her head. "Just backwards, Sam. I'm not cold, but I'm frequently stupid. Look at me, please?I know what they did to you. I know that you let it be done to save me from the same thing. I know that and I'm deeply grateful. But I don't know why you hate me. You did not have to do it, I did not ask you to do it, and I did not want you to do it."
I didn't answer; presently she said, "You don't believe me?"
I reared up on one elbow. "I believe you. I believe you have yourself convinced that that is how it was. Now I'll tell you how it was." 
"Do, please."
"You sat down in that trick chair knowing that I would never let you go through with it. You knew that, whether that devious female mind of yours admitted it to itself or not. The Old Man could not have forced me into that chair, not with a gun, not even with drugs. But you could. You did. You were the one who forced me to go through with something which I would rather have been dead than touched . . . a thing that now leaves me dirty and spoiled. You did it."
She had grown steadily whiter as I talked, until her face was almost green against her hair. She caught her breath and said, "You believe that, Sam?" 
"What else?"
"Sam, that is not the way it was. I did not know you were going to be in there. I was terribly startled. But there was nothing to do but go through with it; I had promised."
"'Promised'," I repeated. "That covers everything, a schoolgirl promise." 
"Hardly a schoolgirl promise."
"No matter. And it doesn't matter whether you are telling the truth or not about knowing that I would be in there?you aren't, of course, but it doesn't matter. The point is: you were there and I was there?and you could figure what would happen if you did what you did do."
"Oh." She waited a bit, then went on, "That's the way it looks to you and I can't dispute the facts." 
"Hardly."
She stood very still for a long time. I let her. Finally she said, "Sam?once you said something to me about wanting to marry me."
"I remember something of the sort. That was another day."
"I didn't expect you to renew the offer. But there was something else, a sort of corollary. Sam, no matter what you think of me, I want to tell you that I am deeply grateful for what you did for me. Uh, Miss Barkis is willing, Sam?you understand me?" 
This time I grinned at her. "A female to the very end! Honest so help me, the workings of the female mind continue to delight and astound me. You always think you can cancel out the score and start over with that one trump play." I continued to grin at her while she turned red. "It won't work. Not this time. I won't inconvenience you by taking up your no-doubt generous offer."
She continued to blush but she came back at me in a steady, level voice, "I let myself in for that. Nevertheless, it's true. That?or anything else I can ever do for you."
My elbow was going to sleep; I sank back and lay down. "Sure, you can do something for me." 
Her face lit up. "What?" 
"Go away and quit bothering me. I'm tired." I turned my face away. I did not hear her leave, but I heard Doris come back in. She was bristling like a fox terrier; they must have passed in the hall. She faced me, fists on her hips, looking cute and adorable and very indignant. "She got around you, didn't she?" 
"I don't think so."
"Don't lie to me. You went soft on her. I know?men always do. The idiots! A woman like that, all she has to do is shake her fanny at a man and he rolls over and plays dead." 
"Well, I didn't. I gave her what for." 
"You're sure you did?" 
"I did?and sent her packing."
Doris looked doubtful. "I hope you did. Maybe you did?she wasn't looking too pert as she came out." She dismissed the matter. "How do you feel?" 
"Pretty good"?it was a lie, net. 
"Want some massage?"
"No, just come here and sit on the bed and talk to me. Want a cigarette?"
"Well?as long as the doctor doesn't catch me." She perched up on the bed; I struck cigarettes for both of us and stuck hers in her mouth. She took a deep drag, swelling out her chest and pushing her arrogant breasts against her halter almost to the breaking point. I thought again what a sweet dish she was; she was just what I needed to take my mind off Mary.
We talked for a while. Doris gave her views on women?it appeared she disapproved of them on principle, although she was not in the least apologetic about being one herself?on the contrary! "Take women patients," she said. "One of the reasons I took this job was because we don't get a woman patient once in a coon's age. A man patient appreciates what is done for him. A woman just expects it and hollers for more."
"Would you be that sort of patient?" I asked, just to tease her.
"I hope not. I'm healthy, thank the Lord." She crushed out her cigarette and jumped off the bed, bouncing a little. "Got to get out of here. Scream if you want anything." 
"Doris?" 
"Yes?" 
"You got any leave coming up?" 
"I plan to take two weeks shortly. Why?" 
"I was thinking. I'm going on leave?at least. I've got a shack in the Adirondacks. How about it? We could have a nice time and forget this madhouse." 
She dimpled. "You know, that's mighty white of you, podnuh." She came over and kissed me full on the mouth, the first time she had done so. "And if I weren't an old married lady, with a pair of twins in the bargain, I might take you up." 
"Oh."
"Sorry. But thanks for the compliment. You've made my day."
She started for the door. I called out, "Doris, wait a minute." When she stopped I added, "I didn't know. Look, why don't you take me up on it anyhow? The cabin, I mean?take your old man and the kids up there and give 'em a good time. I'll give you the combo and the transponder code." 
"You mean that?" 
"Of course I do." 
"Well?I'll talk to you later. Thanks." She came back and kissed me again and it made me wish she had not been married, or, at least, not working at it. Then she left.
The doctor came in a bit later. While he was fiddling with the futile things doctors do, I said, "That nurse. Miss Marsden?is she married?" 
"What business is it of yours?" 
"I just wanted to know."
"You keep your hands off my nurses?or I'll fit you with mittens. Now stick out your tongue."
The Old Man put his head in late that afternoon. My immediate response was pleasure; the Old Man's personality is hard to shake off. Then I remembered and went cold.
"I want to talk to you," he started in. 
"I don't want to talk to you. Get out."
He ignored my remarks and came in, dragging his bad leg. "Mind if I sit down?" 
"You seem to be doing so."
He ignored that, too. He wrinkled his face and scowled. "You know, son, you are one of my best boys, but sometimes you are a little hasty." 
"Don't let that worry you," I answered, "as soon as the doctor lets me out of here. I'm through." I had not really decided up until then, but it seemed as necessary as syrup with buckwheat cakes. I no longer trusted the Old Man; the rest was obvious.
He was not hearing anything that he did not choose to hear. "You're too hasty. You jump to conclusions. Now take this girl Mary?" 
"Mary who?"
"You know who I mean; you know her as 'Mary Cavanaugh'." 
"You take her." 
"You jumped all over her without knowing the score. You've got her all upset. Matter of fact, you may have ruined a good agent for me." 
"Hmmph! I'm in tears about it."
"Listen, you young snot, you didn't have any call to be rough on her. You don't know the facts." 
I did not answer; explanations are a poor defense.
"Oh, I know that you think you do," he went on. "You think she let herself be used as bait to get you to take part in that job we did. Well, you've got it slightly wrong. She was being used as bait, but I was using her. I planned it that way." 
"I know you did." 
"Then why blame her?"
"Because, although you planned it, you couldn't have carried it out without her active cooperation. It's mighty big of you, you no-good, heartless bastard, to take all the blame?but you can't."
He did not hear my profanity, either. He went on, "You understand everything about it but the key point, which is?the girl didn't know." 
"Hell's bells, she was there."
"So she was. Son, did you ever know me to lie to you?"
"No," I admitted, "but I don't think you would hesitate."
He looked pained but answered, "Maybe I deserve that. I'd lie to one of my own people if the country's safety depended on it. I haven't found it necessary up till now because I've been choosy about who works for me. But this time the country's welfare doesn't depend on it and I'm not lying and you'll just have to test it for yourself, any way you can figure out, and make up your mind whether or not I'm lying. That girl didn't know. She didn't know you were going to be in that room. She didn't know why you were in there. She didn't know that there was any question about who was going to sit in that chair. She didn't have the faintest suspicion that I didn't mean for her to go through with it, or that I had already decided that you were the only party who would suit me, even if I had to have you tied down and forced?which I would have done, if I hadn't had a double whammy up my sleeve to trick you into volunteering. Hell's bells yourself, son; she didn't even know you were off the sick list." 
I wanted to believe it, so I did my damnedest not to believe it. If it were a lie, it would be just the shape of lie he would tell. As to whether he would bother to lie?well, getting two prime agents back into the groove might be something he would class, just now, as involving the country's safety. The Old Man had a complex mind.
"Look at me!" he added. I snapped out of my brown study and looked up. "There is something else I want you to know and I want to rub your nose in it. First off, let me say that everybody?including me?appreciates what you did, regardless of your motives. I'm putting in a letter about it and no doubt there will be a medal in due time. That stands, whether you stay with the Section or not. And if you go, I'll help you with any transfer or such you may want."
He paused for breath, then went on. "But don't go giving yourself airs as a little tin hero?" 
"I won't!"
"?because that medal is going to the wrong person. Mary ought to get it.
"Now hush up; I'm not through. You had to be forced into it, like building a fire under a mule. No criticism; you had been through plenty. But Mary was a real, honest-to-God, Simon-pure volunteer. When she sat down in that chair, she didn't know what was going to happen to her. She didn't expect any last minute reprieve and she had every reason to believe that, if she got up alive, her reason would be gone, which is worse. But she did it?because she is a hero, which you miss by a couple of points."
He went on without waiting for me to reply; "Listen, son?most women are damn fools and children. But they've got more range than we've got. The brave ones are braver, the good ones are better?and the vile ones are viler, for that matter. What I'm trying to tell you is: this one is more of a man than you are and you've done her a serious wrong."
I was so churned up inside that I could not judge for the life of me whether he was telling the truth, or manipulating me again. I said, "Maybe so. Maybe I lashed out at the wrong person. But if what you say is true?" 
"It is."
"?it doesn't make what you did any sweeter; it makes it worse."
He took it without flinching. "Son, I'm sorry if I've lost your respect. But I'd do it again under the same circumstances. I can't be choosy about such things any more than can a commander in battle. Less, because I fight with different weapons. I've always been able to shoot my own dog. Maybe that's good; maybe that's bad?but that is what my job takes. If you are ever in my shoes, you'll have to do it, too." 
"I'm not likely to be."
"Why don't you take leave, rest up, and think about it?" 
"I'll take leave?terminal leave." 
"Very well." He started to leave; I said, "Wait?" 
"Yes?"
"You made me one promise and I'm holding you to it. About that parasite?you said I could kill it, personally. Are you through with it?"
"Yes, I'm through with it, but?"
I started to get out of bed. "No 'buts'. Give me your gun; I'm going to kill it now." 
"But you can't. It's already dead." 
"What! You promised me."
"I know I did. But it died while we were trying to force you?to force it?to talk."
I sat down and started to shake with laughter. I got started and could not stop. I was not enjoying it; I could not help it.
The Old Man grasped my shoulders and shook me. "Snap out of it! You'll get yourself sick. I'm sorry about it, but there's nothing to laugh at. It could not be helped."
"Ah, but there is," I answered, still sobbing and chuckling. "It's the funniest thing that ever happened to me. All that?and all for nothing. You dirtied yourself and you loused up me and Mary?and all for no use." 
"Huh? Whatever gave you that idea?"
"Eh? I know?I know everything that went on. And you didn't even get small change out of it?out of us, I should say. You didn't learn anything you didn't know before." 
"The hell we didn't!" 
"And the hell you did."
"It was a bigger success than you'd ever guess, son. True, we didn't squeeze anything out of it directly, before it died?but we got something out of you." 
"Me?"
"Last night. We put you through it last night. You were doped, psyched, brain-waved, analyzed, wrung out, and hung out to dry. The parasite spilled things to you and they were still there for the hypno-analysts to pick up after you were free of it." 
"What?"
"Where they live. We know where they come from and can fight back?Titan, sixth satellite of Saturn." 
When he said it, I felt a sudden gagging constriction of my throat?and I knew that he was right.
"You certainly fought before we could get it out of you," he went on reminiscently. "We had to hold you down to keep you from hurting yourself?more." 
Instead of leaving he threw his game leg over the edge of the bed and struck a cigarette. He seemed anxious to be friendly. As for me, I did not want to fight with him further; my head was spinning and I had things to get straight. Titan?that was a long way out. Mars was the farthest men had ever been, unless the Seagraves Expedition, the one that never came back, got out to the Jovian moons.
Still, we could get there, if there were a reason for it. We would burn out their nest!
Finally he got up to go. He had limped almost to the door when I stopped him again. "Dad?"
I had not called him that in years. He turned and his face held a surprised and defenseless expression. "Yes, son?" 
"Why did you and mother name me 'Elihu'?" 
"Eh? Why, it seemed the thing to do at the time. It was your maternal grandfather's name." 
"Oh. Not enough reason. I'd say."
"Perhaps not." He turned again and again I stopped him.
"Dad?what sort of a person was my mother?" 
"Your mother? I don't exactly know how to tell you. Well?she was a great deal like Mary. Yes, sir, a great deal like her." He turned and stumped out without giving me any further chance to talk.
I turned my face to the wall. After a while I steadied down.



XII
This is a personal account of my angle of view on events known to everybody. I'm not writing history. For one thing, I don't have the broad viewpoint.
Maybe I should have been sweating about the fate of the world when I was actually stewing about my own affairs. Maybe. But I never heard of a man with a blighty wound caring too much about how the battle turned out.
Anyhow, there did not seem much to worry about. I knew that the President had been saved under circumstances which would open up anybody's eyes, even a politician's, and that was, as I saw it, the last real hurdle. The slugs?the titans, that is?were dependent on secrecy; once out in the open they could not possibly hold out against the massed strength of the United States. They had no powers except those they borrowed from their slaves, as I knew better than anybody.
Now we could clean up their beachhead here; then we could go after them where they lived. But planning interplanetary expeditions was hardly my job. I knew as much about that subject as I knew about Egyptian art.
When the doctor released me I went looking for Mary. I still had nothing but the Old Man's word for it, but I had more than a suspicion that I had made a big hairy thing of myself. I did not expect her to be glad to see me, but I had to speak my piece.
You would think that a tall, handsome redhead would be as easy to find as flat ground in Kansas. She would have been had she been a member of the in staff, but she was a field agent. Field agents come and go and the resident personnel are encouraged to mind their own business. Doris had not seen her again?so she said?and was annoyed that I should want to find her.
The personnel office gave me the bland brush off. I was not inquiring officially, I did not know the agent's name, and just who did I think I was, anyway? They referred me to Operations, meaning the Old Man. That did not suit me.
I had no more luck and met with even more suspicion when I tried the door tally; I began to feel like a spy in my own section.
I went to the bio lab, could not find its chief, and talked to an assistant. He did not know anything about a girl in connection with Project Interview; the subject had been a man?he knew; he had seen the stereo. I told him to take a close look at me. He did and said, "Oh, were you that guy? Pal, you sure took a beating." He went back to scratching himself and shuffling reports.
I left without saying thank you and went to the Old Man's office. There seemed to be no choice.
There was a new face at Miss Haines's desk. I never saw Miss Haines again after the night I got taken. Nor did I ask what had become of her; I did not want to know. The new secretary passed in my I.D. code and, for a wonder, the Old Man was in and would see me.
"What do you want?" he said grumpily.
I said, "Thought you might have some work for me," which was not at all what I intended to say.
"Matter of fact, I was just fixing to send for you. You've loafed long enough." He barked something at his desk phone, stood up and said, "Come!" 
I felt suddenly at peace, and followed him. "Cosmetics?" I asked.
"Your own ugly face will do. We're headed for Washington." Nevertheless we did stop in Cosmetics, but only for street clothes. I drew a gun?my own had gone where the woodbine twineth?and had my phone checked.
The door guard made us bare our backs before he would let us approach and check out. Then we tucked our shirts in and went on up, coming out in the lower levels of New Philadelphia, the first I had known as to the location of the Section's new base. "I take it this burg is clean?" I said to the Old Man.
"If you do, you are rusty in the head," he answered. "Keep your eyes peeled."
There was no opportunity for more questions. The presence of so many fully clothed humans bothered me; I found myself drawing away from people and watching for round shoulders. Getting into a crowded elevator to go up to the launching platform seemed downright reckless. When we were in our car and the controls set, I said so. "What in the devil do the authorities in that dump think they are doing? I could swear that at least one cop we passed was wearing a hump."
"Possibly. Even probably."
"Well, for crying in church! What goes on? I thought you had this job taped and that we were fighting back on all fronts."
"We're trying to. What would you suggest we do about it?"
"Why, it's obvious?even if it were freezing cold, we ought not to see a back covered up anywhere, not until we know they are all dead." 
"That's right."
"Well, then?Look, the President knows the score, doesn't he? I understand that?" 
"He knows it."
"What's he waiting for? For the whole country to be taken over? He should declare martial law and get action. You told him, a long time ago."
"So I did." The Old Man stared down at the countryside. "Son, are you under the impression that the President runs the country?"
"Of course not. But he is the only man who can act."
"Mmmm?They sometimes call Premier Tsvetkov 'the Prisoner of the Kremlin'. True or not, the President is the prisoner of Congress." 
"You mean Congress hasn't acted?"
"I have spent my time the past several days?ever since we stopped the attempt on the President?trying to help the President convince them. Ever been worked over by a congressional committee, son?" 
I tried to figure it out. Here we sat, as stupid as dodoes walking up a gangplank to be slugged?yes, and homo sapiens would be as extinct as the dodo if we did not move. Presently the Old Man said, "It's time you learned the political facts of life. Congresses have refused to act in the face of dangers more obvious than this one. This one isn't obvious, not until a man has had it in his lap, the way we have. The evidence is slim and hard to believe."
"But how about the Assistant Secretary of the Treasury? They can't ignore that."
"Can't they? The Assistant Secretary had one snatched off his back, right in the East Wing, and we killed two of his Secret Service guards. And now the honorable gent is in Walter Reed with a nervous breakdown and can't recall what happened. The Treasury Department gave out that an attempt to assassinate the President had been foiled?true, but not the way they meant it." 
"And the President held still for that?"
"His advisers told him to wait until he can get congressional support. His majority is uncertain at best?and there are stalwart statesmen in both houses who want his head on a platter. Party politics is a rough game."
"Good Lord, partisanship doesn't figure in a case like this!"
The Old Man cocked an eyebrow. "You think not, eh?"
I finally managed to ask him the question I had come into his office to ask: where was Mary?
"Odd question from you," he grunted. I let it ride; he went on, "Where she should be. Guarding the President."
We went first to a room where a joint special committee was going over evidence. It was a closed session but the Old Man had passes. When we got there they were running stereos; we slipped into seats and watched.
The films were of my anthropoid friend. Napoleon?the ape himself, shots of him with the titan on his back, then close-ups of the titan. It made me sick to see it. One parasite looks like another; but I knew which one this was and I was deeply glad it was dead.
The ape gave way to me myself. I saw myself being clamped into the chair. I hate to admit how I looked; real funk is not pretty. A voice off screen told what was going on.
I saw them lift the titan off the ape and onto my own bare back. Then I fainted in the picture?and almost fainted again. I won't describe it and it upsets me to tell about it. I saw myself writhing under the shocks given the titan?and I writhed again. At one point I tore my right hand free of the clamps, something I had not known, but which explained why my wrist was still not healed.
And I saw the thing die. That was worth sitting through the rest.
The film ended and the chairman said, "Well, gentlemen?" 
"Mr. Chairman!" 
"The gentleman from Indiana is recognized." 
"Speaking without prejudice to the issue, I must say that I have seen better trick photography from Hollywood." They tittered and someone called out, "Hear! Hear!" I knew the ball game was gone.
The head of our bio lab testified, then I found myself called to the stand. I gave my name, address, and occupation, then perfunctorily was asked a number of questions, about my experiences under the titans. The questions were read from a sheet and the chairman obviously was not familiar with them.
The thing that got me was that they did not want to hear. Two of them were reading newspapers.
There were only two questions from the floor. One senator said to me, "Mr. Nivens?your name is Nivens?"
I agreed that it was. "Mr. Nivens," he went on, "you say that you are an investigator?" 
"Yes." 
"F.B.I., no doubt?" 
"No, my chief reports directly to the President." 
The senator smiled. "Just as I thought. Now Mr. Nivens, you say you are an investigator?but as a matter of fact you are an actor, are you not?" He seemed to be consulting notes.
I tried to tell too much truth. I wanted to say that I had once acted one season of summer stock but that I was, nevertheless, a real, live, sure-enough investigator. I got no chance. "That will do, Mr. Nivens. Thank you."
The other question was put to me by an elderly senator whose name I should have known. He wanted to know my views on using tax money to arm other countries?and he used the question to express his own views. My views on that subject are cloudy but it did not matter, as I did not get to express them. The next thing I knew the clerk was saying, "Stand down, Mr. Nivens."
I sat tight. "Look here," I said, "all of you. It's evident that you don't believe me and think this is a put-up job. Well, for the love of heaven, bring in a lie detector! Or use the sleep test. This hearing is a joke." 
The chairman banged his gavel. "Stand down, Mr. Nivens." 
I stood.
The Old Man had told me that the purpose of the meeting was to report out a joint resolution declaring total emergency and vesting war powers in the President. The chairman asked if they were ready to consider the resolution. One of the newspaper readers looked up long enough to say, "Mr. Chairman, I call for clearing the committee room."
So we were ejected. I said to the Old Man, "It looks bad to this boy."
"Forget it," he said. "The President knew this gambit had failed when he heard the names of the committee."
"Where does that leave us? Do we wait for the slugs to take over Congress, too?"
"The President goes right ahead with a message to Congress and a request for full powers." 
"Will he get them?"
The Old Man screwed up his face. "Frankly, I don't think he stands a chance."
The joint session was secret, of course, but we were present?direct orders of the President, probably. The Old Man and I were on that little balcony business back of the Speaker's rostrum. They opened it with full rigamarole and then went through the ceremony of appointing two members from each house to notify the President.
I suppose he was right outside for he came in at once, escorted by the delegation. His guards were with him?but they were all our men.
Mary was with him, too. Somebody set up a folding chair for her, right by the President. She fiddled with a notebook and handed papers to him, pretending to be a secretary. But the disguise ended there; she had it turned on full blast and looked like Cleopatra on a warm night?and as out of place as a bed in church. I could feel them stir; she got as much attention as the President did.
Even the President noticed it. You could see that he wished that he had left her at home, but it was too late to do anything about it without greater embarrassment.
You can bet I noticed her. I caught her eye?and she gave me a long, slow, sweet smile. I grinned like a collie pup until the Old Man dug me in the ribs. Then I settled back and tried to behave but I was happy.
The President made a reasoned explanation of the situation, why we knew it to be so and what had to be done. It was as straightforward and rational as an engineering report, and about as moving. He simply stated facts. He put aside his notes at the end. "This is such a strange and terrible emergency, so totally beyond any previous experience, that I must ask very broad powers to cope with it. In some areas, martial law must be declared. Grave invasions of civil guarantees will be necessary, for a time. The right of free movement must be abridged. The right to be secure from arbitrary search and seizure must give way to the right of safety for everyone. Because any citizen, no matter how respected or how loyal, may be the unwilling servant of these secret enemies, all citizens must face some loss of civil rights and personal dignities until this plague is killed.
"With utmost reluctance, I ask that you authorize these necessary steps." With that he sat down.
You can feel a crowd. They were made uneasy, but he did not carry them. The president of the Senate took the gavel and looked at the Senate majority leader; it had been programmed for him to propose the emergency resolution.
Something slipped. I don't know whether the floor leader shook his head or signaled, but he did not take the floor. Meanwhile the delay was getting awkward and there were cries of, "Mister President!" and "Order!"
The Senate president passed over several others and gave the floor to a member of his own party. I recognized the man?Senator Gottlieb, a wheelhorse who would vote for his own lynching if it were on his party's program. He started out by yielding to none in his respect for the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, and, probably, the Grand Canyon. He pointed modestly to his own long and faithful service and spoke well of America's place in history.
I thought he was beating the drum while the boys worked out a new shift?when I suddenly realized that his words were adding up to meaning: he was proposing to suspend the order of business and get on with the impeachment and trial of the President of the United States!
I think I tumbled to it as quickly as anyone; the senator had his proposal so decked out in ritualistic verbiage that it was a wonder that anyone noticed what he was actually saying. I looked at the Old Man. 
The Old Man was looking at Mary.
She was looking back at him with an expression of extreme urgency.
The Old Man snatched a pad out of his pocket, scrawled something, wadded it up, and threw it down to Mary. She caught it, opened it, and read it?and passed it to the President.
He was sitting, relaxed and easy?as if one of his oldest friends were not at that moment tearing his name to shreds and, with it, the safety of the Republic. He put on his old-fashioned specs and read the note. He then glanced unhurriedly around at the Old Man and lifted his eyebrows. The Old Man nodded.
The President nudged the Senate president, who, at the President's gesture, bent over him. The President and he exchanged whispers.
Gottlieb was still rumbling along about his deep sorrow, but that there came times when old friendship must give way to a higher duty and therefore? The Senate president banged his gavel. "If the senator please!" 
Gottlieb looked startled and said, "I do not yield." 
"The senator is not asked to yield. At the request of the President of the United States, because of the importance of what you are saying, the senator is asked to come to the rostrum to speak."
Gottlieb looked puzzled but there was nothing else he could do. He walked slowly toward the front of the house.
Mary's chair blocked the little stairway up to the rostrum. Instead of getting quietly out of the way, she bumbled around, turning and picking up the chair, so that she got even more in the way. Gottlieb stopped and she brushed against him. He caught her arm, as much to steady himself as her. She spoke to him and he to her, but no one else could hear the words. Finally they got around each other and he went on to the front of the rostrum.
The Old Man was quivering like a dog in point. Mary looked up at him and nodded. The Old Man said, "Take him!"
I was over that rail in a flying leap, as if I had been wound up like a crossbow. I landed on Gottlieb's shoulders.
I heard the Old Man shout, "Gloves, son! Gloves!" I did not stop for them. I split the senator's jacket with my bare hands and I could see the slug pulsing under his shirt. I tore the shirt away and anybody could see it.
Six stereo cameras could not have recorded what happened in the next few seconds. I slugged Gottlieb back of the ear to stop his thrashing. Mary was sitting on his legs. The President was standing over me and pointing, while shouting, "There! There! Now you can all see." The Senate president was standing stupefied, waggling his gavel.
The Congress was just a mob, men yelling and women screaming. Above me the Old Man was shouting orders to the presidential guards as if he were standing on a bridge.
We had this in our favor; doors were locked and there were no armed and disciplined men present except the Old Man's own boys. Sergeants-at-arms, surely?but what are they? One elderly Congressman pulled a hogleg out of his coat that must have been a museum piece, but that was a mere incident.
Between the guns of the guards and the pounding of the gavel something like order was restored. The President started to talk. He told them that an amazing accident had given them a chance to see the true nature of the enemy and he suggested that they file past and see for themselves one of the titans from Saturn's largest moon. Without waiting for their consent, he pointed to the front row and told them to come up. 
They came.
I squatted back out of the way and wondered what was accidental about it. With the Old Man you can never tell. Had he known that Congress was infested? I rubbed a bruised knee and wondered.
Mary stayed on the platform. About twenty had filed by and a female Congressman had gotten hysterics when I saw Mary signal the Old Man again. This time I was a hair ahead of his order.
I might have had quite a fight if two of the boys had not been close by; this one was young and tough, an ex-marine. We laid him beside Gottlieb, and again the Old Man and the President and the Senate president, shouting their lungs out, restored order.
Then it was "inspection and search" whether they liked it or not. I patted the women on the back as they came by and caught one. I thought I had caught another, but it was an embarrassing mistake; she was so blubber fat that I guessed wrong.
Mary spotted two more, then there was a long stretch, three hundred or more, with no jackpots. It was soon evident that some were hanging back.
Don't let anyone tell you that Congressmen are stupid. It takes brains to get elected and it takes a practical psychologist to stay elected. Eight men with guns were not enough?eleven, counting the Old Man, Mary, and me. Most of the slugs would have gotten away if the Whip of the House had not organized help.
With their assistance, we caught thirteen, ten alive. Only one of the hosts was badly wounded.
But the Congress of the United States has not been such a shambles since Jefferson Davis announced his momentous decision. No, not even after the Bombing.

XIII
So the President got the authority he needed and the Old Man was his de facto chief of staff; at last we could move fast and effectively. Oh, yes? Did you ever try to hurry a project through a bureaucracy?
"Directives" have to be "implemented"; "agencies" have to be "coordi-nated"?and everything has to go to the files.
The Old Man had a simple enough campaign in mind. It could not be the straightforward quarantine he had proposed when the infection was limited to the Des Moines area; before we could fight back, we had to locate them. But government agents couldn't search two hundred million people; the people had to do it themselves.
Schedule Bare Back was to be the first phase of the implementation of Operation Parasite?which makes me talk like a bureaucrat. Never mind?the idea was that everybody, everybody was to peel to the waist and stay peeled, until all titans were spotted and killed. Oh, women could have halter strings across their backs, but a parasite could not hide under a bra string.
We whipped up a visual presentation to go with the stereocast speech the President would make to the nation. Fast work had saved seven of the parasites we had flushed in the sacred halls of Congress and now they were alive on animal hosts. We could show them and we could show the less grisly parts of the film taken of me. The President himself would appear in the 'cast in shorts, and models would demonstrate what the Well Undressed Citizen Would Wear This Season, including the metal head-and-spine armor which was intended to protect a person even if a parasite got to him in his sleep.
We got it ready in one black-coffee night and the President's writers had his lines ready for him. The smash finish was to show Congress in session, discussing the emergency, and every man, woman, and page boy showing a bare back to the camera.
With twenty-eight minutes left until stereocast time the President got a call from up the street. I was present; the Old Man had been with the President all night, and had kept me around for chores. Mary was there, of course; the President was her special charge. We were all in shorts; Schedule Bare Back had already started in the White House. The only ones who looked comfortable in the get-up were Mary, who can wear anything, the colored doorman, who carried himself like a Zulu king, and the President himself, whose innate dignity could not be touched.
When the call came in the President did not bother to cut us out of his end of the conversation. "Speaking," he said. Presently he added, "You feel certain? Very well, John, what do you advise . . . . I see.  No, I don't think that would work. . . . I had better come up the street. Tell them to be ready." He pushed back the phone, his face still serene, and turned to an assistant. "Tell them to hold up the broadcast." He turned to the Old Man. "Come, Andrew, we must go to the Capitol."
He sent for his valet and retired into a dressing room adjoining his office; when he came out, he was formally dressed for a state occasion. He offered no explanation, the Old Man raised an eyebrow but said nothing and I did not dare say anything. The rest of us stayed in our gooseflesh specials and so we went to the Capitol.
It was a joint session, the second in less than twenty-four hours. We trooped in?and I got that no-pants-in-church nightmare feeling, for the Congressmen and senators were dressed as usual. Then I saw that the page boys were in shorts without shirts and felt somewhat better.
I still don't understand it. It seems that some people would rather be dead than lose dignity, with senators high on the list. Congressmen, too?a Congressman is a man who wants to be a senator. They had given the President all the authority he asked for; Schedule Bare Back itself had been discussed and approved?but they did not see where it applied to them. After all, they had been searched and cleaned out; Congress was the only group in the country known to be free of titans.
Maybe some saw the holes in the argument, but not one wanted to be first in a public striptease. Face and dignity are indispensable to an office holder. They sat tight, fully dressed.
When the President took the rostrum, he simply looked at them until he got dead silence. Then slowly, calmly, he started taking off clothes.
He stopped when he was bare to the waist. He had had me worried for a moment; I think he had others worried. He then turned slowly around, lifting his arms. At last he spoke.
"I did that," he said, "so that you might see for yourself that your Chief Executive is not a prisoner of the enemy." He paused.
"But how about you?" That last word was flung at them.
The President punched a finger at the junior Whip. "Mark Cummings?how about you? Are you a loyal citizen or are you a zombie spy? Get up! Get your shirt off!"
"Mister President?" It was Charity Evans, from the State of Maine, looking like a pretty schoolteacher. She stood and I saw that, while she was fully dressed, she was in evening dress. Her gown reached to the floor, but was cut as deep as could be above. She turned like a mannequin; in back the dress ended at the base of her spine; in front it came up in two well-filled scallops. "Is this satisfactory, Mr. President?" 
"Quite satisfactory, madam."
Cummings was on his feet and fumbling at his jacket; his face was scarlet. Someone stood up in the middle of the hall.
It was Senator Gottlieb. He looked as if he should have been in bed; his cheeks were gray and sunken; his lips showed cyanosis. But he held himself erect and, with incredible dignity, followed the President's example. His old-fashioned underwear was a one-piece job; he wriggled his arms out and let it dangle over his galluses. Then he, too, turned all the way around; on his back, scarlet against his fish-white flesh, was the mark of the parasite.
He spoke. "Last night I stood here and said things I would rather have been flayed alive than utter. But last night I was not my own master. Today I am. Can you not see that Rome is burning?" Suddenly he had a gun in his hand. "Up on your feet, you wardheelers, you courthouse loafers! Two minutes to get your duds off and show a bare back?then I shoot!"
Men close to him sprang up and tried to grab his arm, but he swung the gun around like a flyswatter, smashing one of them in the face. I had my own out, ready to back his play, but it was not necessary. They could see that he was as dangerous as an old bull and they backed away.
It hung in balance, then they started shucking clothes like Doukhobors. One man bolted for a door; he was tripped. No, he was not wearing a parasite.
But we did catch three. After that, the show went on the channels, ten minutes late, and Congress started the first of its "bare back" sessions.

XIV
"LOCK YOUR DOORS!"
"CLOSE THE DAMPERS ON YOUR FIREPLACES!" 
"NEVER ENTER A DARK PLACE!" 
"BE WARY OF CROWDS!"
"A MAN WEARING A COAT IS AN ENEMY?SHOOT!"
We should have had every titan in the country spotted and killed in a week. I don't know what more we could have done. In addition to a steady barrage of propaganda the country was being quartered and sectioned from the air, searching for flying saucers on the ground. Our radar screen was on full alert for unidentified blips. Military units, from airborne troops to guided-rocket stations, were ready to smear any that landed.
Then nothing happened. There was no work for them to do. The thing fizzled like a damp firecracker.
In the uncontaminated areas people took off their shirts, willingly or reluctantly, looked around them and found no parasites. They watched their newscasts and wondered and waited for the government to tell them that the danger was over. But nothing happened and both laymen and local officials began to doubt the necessity of running around the streets in sunbathing costumes. We had shouted "Wolf!" and no wolf came.
The contaminated areas? The reports from the contaminated areas were not materially different from the reports from other areas.
Our stereocast and the follow-ups did not reach those areas. Back in the days of radio it could not have happened; the Washington station where the 'cast originated could have blanketed the country. But stereo-video rides wavelengths so short that horizon-to-horizon relay is necessary and local channels must be squirted out of local stations; it's the price we pay for plenty of channels and high resolution pictures.
In the infected areas the slugs controlled the local stations; the people never heard the warning.
But in Washington we had every reason to believe that they had heard the warning. Reports came back from?well, Iowa, for example, just like those from California. The governor of Iowa was one of the first to send a message to the President, promising full cooperation. The Iowa state police were already cruising the roads, he reported, stopping everybody and requiring them to strip to the waist. Air travel above Iowa was stopped for the duration of the emergency, just as the President had urged.
There was even a relayed stereo of the governor addressing his constituents, bare to the waist. He faced the camera and I wanted to tell him to turn around. But presently they cut to another camera and we had a close up of a bare back, while the governor's voice went cheerfully on, urging all citizens to work with the police.
If any place in the Union was a pest house of slugs, Iowa should have been it. Had they evacuated Iowa and concentrated on heavier centers of population?
We were gathered in a conference room off the President's office. The President had kept the Old Man with him, I tagged along, and Mary was still on watch. Secretary of Security Martinez was there as well as the Supreme Chief of Staff, Air Marshal Rexton. There were others from the President's "fishing cabinet", but they weren't important.
The President watched the 'cast from Iowa and turned to the Old Man. "Well, Andrew? I thought Iowa was a place we would have to fence off." 
The Old Man grunted.
Marshal Rexton said, "As I figure it?mind you, I have not had much time to evaluate this situation?they have gone underground. We may have to comb every inch of every suspicious area."
The Old Man grunted again. "Combing Iowa, corn shock by corn shock, does not appeal to me." 
"How else would you tackle it, sir?"
"Figure your enemy! He can't go underground. He can't live without a host."
"Very well?assuming that is true, how many parasites would you say are in Iowa?"
"Damn it, how should I know? They didn't take me into their confidence." 
"Suppose we make a top estimate. If?" 
The Old Man interrupted him. "You've got no basis for an estimate. Can't you folks see that the titans have won another round?" 
"Eh?"
"You just heard the governor; they let us look at his back?or somebody's back. Did you notice that he didn't turn around in front of the camera?" 
"But he did," someone said. "I saw him." 
"I certainly had the impression that I saw him turn," said the President slowly. "You are suggesting that Governor Packer is himself possessed?"
"Correct. You saw what you were meant to see. There was a camera cut just before he was fully turned; people hardly ever notice them; they are used to them. Depend on it. Mister President, every message out of Iowa is faked."
The President looked thoughtful. Secretary Martinez shook his head emphatically and said, "Impossible. Granted that the governor's message could have been faked?a clever character actor could have faked it. Remember the inaugural address in the crisis of '96, when the President Elect was laid up with pneumonia? Granted that one such 'cast could be faked, we've had our choice of dozens of 'casts from Iowa. How about that street scene in Des Moines? Don't tell me you can fake hundreds of people dashing around stripped to their waists?or do your parasites practice mass hypnotic control?"
"They can't that I know of," conceded the Old Man. "If they can, we might as well throw in the towel and admit that the human race has been superseded. But what made you think that that 'cast came from Iowa?"
"Eh? Why, damn it, sir, it came over the Iowa channel."
"Proving what? Did you read any street signs? It looked like any typical street in a downtown retail district. Never mind what city the announcer told you it was; what city was it?"
The Secretary let his mouth hang open. I've got fairly close to the "camera eye" that detectives are supposed to have; I let that picture run through my mind?and I not only could not tell what city, I could not even place the part of the country. It could have been Memphis, Seattle, or Boston?or none of them. Allowing for special cases like Canal Street in New Orleans, or Denver's Civic Center, the downtown districts in American cities are as standardized as barber shops.
"Never mind," the Old Man went on. "I couldn't tell and I was looking for landmarks. The explanation is simple; the Des Moines station picked up a Schedule Bare Back street scene from some city not contaminated and rechanneled it under their own commentary. They chopped out anything that would localize it . . . and we swallowed it. Gentlemen, this enemy knows us, inside and out. This campaign has been planned in great detail and they are ready to outwit us in almost any move we can make."
"Aren't you being an alarmist, Andrew?" said the President. "There is another possibility, that the titans have moved somewhere else."
"They are still in Iowa," the Old Man said flatly, "but you won't prove it with that thing." He gestured at the stereo tank.
Secretary Martinez squirmed. "This is ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "You are saying that we can't get a correct report out of Iowa, as if it were occupied territory." 
"That is what it is."
"But I stopped off in Des Moines two days ago, coming back from Alaska. Everything was normal. Mind you, I grant the existence of your parasites, though I haven't seen one. But let's find them where they are and root them out, instead of dreaming up fantasies."
The Old Man looked tired and I felt tired. I wondered how many ordinary people were taking it seriously, if this was what we ran into at the top.
Finally the Old Man replied, "Control the communications of a country and you control the country; that's elementary. You had better take fast steps, Mister Secretary, or you won't have any communications left." 
"But I was merely?"
"You root 'em out!" the Old Man said rudely. "I've told you they are in Iowa?and in New Orleans, and a dozen other spots. My job is finished. You are Secretary of Security; you root 'em out." He stood up and said, "Mister President, I've had a long pull for a man my age; when I lose sleep I lose my temper. Could I be excused?"
"Certainly, Andrew." He had not lost his temper and I think the President knew it. He doesn't lose his temper; he makes other people lose theirs.
Before the Old Man could say goodnight. Secretary Martinez interrupted. "Wait a moment! You've made some flat-footed statements. Let's check up on them." He turned to the Chief of Staff. "Rexton!" 
"Uh, yes, sir."
"That new post near Des Moines, Fort something-or-other, named after what's-his-name?" 
"Fort Patton."
"That's it, that's it. Well, let's not dally; get them on the command circuit?" 
"With visual," put in the Old Man.
"With visual, of course, and we'll show this?I mean we'll get the true situation in Iowa."
The Air Marshal handed a by-your-leave-sir to the President, went to the stereo tank and patched in with Security General Headquarters. He asked for the officer of the watch at Fort Patton, Iowa.
Shortly thereafter the stereo tank showed the inside of a military communications center. Filling the foreground was a young officer. His rank and corps showed on his cap, but his chest was bare. Martinez turned triumphantly to the Old Man. "You see?" 
"I see." 
"Now to make certain. Lieutenant!"
"Yes, sir!" The young fellow looked awestruck and kept glancing from one famous face to another. Reception and bi-angle were in synch; the eyes of the image looked where they seemed to look, as if he were actually sitting in the receiver tank.
"Stand up and turn around," Martinez continued.
"Uh? Why, certainly, sir." He seemed puzzled, but he did so?and it took him almost out of scan. We could see his bare back, up to about the short ribs?no higher.
"Confound it!" shouted Martinez. "Sit down and turn around."
"Yessir!" The youth seemed flustered. He leaned over the desk and added, "Just a moment while I widen the view angle, sir."
The picture suddenly melted and rippling rainbows chased across the tank. The young officer's voice was still coming over the audio channel. "There?is that better, sir?" 
"Damn it, we can't see a thing!" 
"You can't? Just a moment, sir."
We could hear him breathing heavily. Suddenly the tank came to life and I thought for a moment that we were back at Fort Patton. But it was a major on the screen this time and the place looked larger. "Supreme Headquarters," the image announced, "Communications officer of the watch. Major Donovan." 
"Major," Martinez said in controlled tones, "I was hooked in with Fort Patton. What happened?" 
"Yes, sir; I was monitoring it. We've had a slight technical difficulty on that channel. We'll put your call through again in a moment." 
"Well, hurry!" 
"Yes, sir." The tank rippled and went empty.
The Old Man stood up again. "Call me when you've cleared up that 'slight technical difficulty'. Meantime, I'm going to bed."

XV
If I have given the impression that Secretary Martinez was stupid, I am sorry. Everyone had trouble at first believing what the slugs could do. You have to see one?then you believe in the pit of your stomach.
There were no flies on Air Marshal Rexton, either. The two must have worked all night, after convincing themselves by more calls to known danger spots that "technical interruptions" do not occur so conveniently. They called the Old Man about four a.m. and he called me, using our special phones. Those flesh-embedded receptors should not be used as alarm clocks; it's too rough a way to wake a man.
They were in the same conference room, Martinez, Rexton, a couple of his high brass, and the Old Man. The President came in, wearing a bathrobe and followed by Mary, just as I arrived. Martinez started to speak but the Old Man cut in. "Let's see your back, Tom!"
The President looked surprised and Mary signaled that everything was okay, but the Old Man chose not to see her. "I mean it," he persisted.
The President said quietly, "Perfectly correct, Andrew," and slipped his robe off his shoulders. His back was clean. "If I don't set an example, how can I expect others to cooperate?"
The Old Man started to help him back into the robe, but the President shrugged him off and hung it over a chair. "I'll just have to acquire new habits. Difficult, at my age. Well, gentlemen?"
I thought myself that bare skin would take getting used to; we made an odd group. Martinez was lean and tanned, carved smooth from mahogany. I'd judge he was part Indian. Rexton had a burned-in, high-altitude tan on his face, but from his collar line down he was as white as the President. On his chest was a black cross of hair, armpit to armpit and chin to belly, while the President and the Old Man were covered front and back with grizzled, wiry fur. The Old Man's mat was so thick that mice could have nested in it.
Mary looked like a publicity pic?low angle shot to bring out the legs and careful posing, that sort. Me?well. I'm the spiritual type.
Martinez and Rexton had been shoving push pins into a map, red for bad, green for good, and a few amber ones. Reports were still coming and Rexton's assistants kept adding new pins.
Iowa looked like measles; New Orleans and the Teche country were as bad. So was Kansas City. The upper end of the Missouri-Mississippi system, from Minneapolis and St. Paul down to St. Louis, was clearly enemy territory. There were fewer red pins from there down to New Orleans?but there were no green ones.
There was another hot spot around El Paso and two on the East Coast.
The President looked it over calmly. "We shall need the help of Canada and Mexico," he said. "Any reports?" 
"None that mean anything, sir." 
"Canada and Mexico," the Old Man said seriously, "will be just a start. You are going to need the whole world with you on this job." 
Rexton said, "We will, eh? How about Russia?" 
Nobody had an answer to that one; nobody ever has. Too big to occupy and too big to ignore?World War III had not settled the Russian problem and no war ever would. The parasites might feel right at home behind the Curtain.
The President said, "We'll deal with that when we come to it." He drew a finger across the map. "Any trouble getting messages through to the Coast?" 
"Apparently not, sir," Rexton told him. "They don't seem to interfere with straight-through relay. But all military communications I have shifted to one-link relay through the space stations." He glanced at his watch finger. "Space Station Gamma, at the moment." 
"Hmmm?" said the President. "Andrew, could these things storm a space station?"
"How would I know?" the Old Man answered testily. "I don't know whether their ships are built for it or not. More probably they would do it by infiltration, through the supply rockets."
There was discussion as to whether or not the space stations could already have been taken over; Schedule Bare Back did not apply to the stations. Although we had built them and paid for them, since they were technically United Nations territory, the President had to wait until the United Nations acted on the entire matter.
"Don't worry about it," Rexton said suddenly. 
"Why not?" the President asked.
"I am probably the only one here who has done duty in a space station. Gentlemen, the costume we are now wearing is customary in a station. A man fully dressed would stand out like an overcoat on the beach. But we'll see." He gave orders to one of his assistants.
The President resumed studying the map. "So far as we know," he said, pointing to Grinnell, Iowa, "all this derives from a single landing, here." 
The Old Man answered, "Yes?so far as we know." 
I said, "Oh, no!"
They all looked at me and I was embarrassed. "Go ahead," said the President.
"There were at least three more landings?I know there were?before I was rescued."
The Old Man looked dumbfounded. "Are you sure, son? We thought we had wrung you dry." 
"Of course I'm sure." 
"Why didn't you mention it?"
"I never thought of it before." I tried to explain how it feels to be possessed, how you know what is going on, but everything seems dreamy, equally important and equally unimportant. I grew quite upset. I am not the jittery type, but being ridden by a master does something to you.
The Old Man put his hand on me and said, "Steady down, son." The President said something soothing and gave me a reassuring smile. That stereocast personality of his is not put on; he's really got it.
Rexton said, "The important point is: where did they land? We might still capture one."
"I doubt it," the Old Man answered. "They did a cover-up on the first one in a matter of hours. If it was the first one," he added thoughtfully.
I went to the map and tried to think. Sweating, I pointed to New Orleans. "I'm pretty sure one was about here." I stared at the map. "I don't know where the others landed. But I know they did."
"How about here?" Rexton asked, pointing to the East Coast.
"I don't know. I don't know." 
The Old Man pointed to the other East Coast danger spot. "We know this one is a secondary infection." He was kind enough not to say that I had been the means of infecting it.
"Can't you remember anything else?" Martinez said testily. "Think, man!"
"I just don't know. We never knew what they were up to, not really." I thought until my skull ached, then pointed to Kansas City. "I sent several messages here, but I don't know whether they were shipment orders, or not."
Rexton looked at the map; around Kansas City was almost as pin-studded as Iowa. "We'll assume a landing near Kansas City, too. The technical boys can do a problem on it. It may be subject to logistic analysis; we might derive the other landing." 
"Or landings," added the Old Man.
"Eh? 'Or landings'. Certainly. But we need more reports." He turned back to the map and stared at it thoughtfully.

XVI
Hindsight is confoundedly futile. At the moment the first saucer landed the menace could have been stamped out by one determined man and a bomb. At the time "The Cavanaughs"?Mary, the Old Man, and I?reconnoitered around Grinnell and in Des Moines, we three alone might have killed every slug had we been ruthless and, more important, known where they all were.
Had Schedule Bare Back been ordered during the fortnight after the first landing it alone might have turned the trick. But by the next day it was clear that Schedule Bare Back had failed as an offensive measure. As a defense it was useful; the uncontaminated areas could be kept so, as long as the slugs could not conceal themselves. It had even had mild success in offense; areas contaminated but not "secured" by the parasites were cleaned up at once . . . Washington itself, for example, and New Philadelphia. New Brooklyn, too?there I had been able to give specific advice. The entire East Coast turned from red to green.
But as the area down the middle of the country filled in on the map, it filled in red, and stayed so. The infected areas stood out in ruby light now, for the simple wall map studded with push pins had been replaced by a huge electronic military map, ten miles to the inch, covering one wall of the conference room. It was a repeater map, the master being located down in the sublevels of the New Pentagon.
The country was split in two, as if a giant had washed red pigment down the Central Valley. Two zigzag amber paths bordered the great band held by the slugs; these were overlap, the only areas of real activity, places where line-of-sight reception was possible from both stations held by the enemy and from stations still in the hands of free men. One such started near Minneapolis, swung west of Chicago and east of St. Louis, then meandered through Tennessee and Alabama to the Gulf. The other cut a wide path through the Great Plains and came out near Corpus Christi. El Paso was the center of a ruby area as yet unconnected with the main body.
I looked at the map and wondered what was going on in those border strips. I had the room to myself; the Cabinet was meeting and the President had taken the Old Man with him. Rexton and his brass had left earlier. I stayed there because I had not been told where to go and I hesitated to wander around in the White House. So I stayed and fretted and watched amber lights blink red and, much less frequently, red lights blink amber or green.
I wondered how an overnight visitor with no status managed to get breakfast? I had been up since four and my total nourishment so far had been one cup of coffee, served by the President's valet. Even more urgently I wanted to find a washroom. I knew where the President's washroom was, but I did not have the nerve to use it, feeling vaguely that to do so would be somewhere between high treason and disorderly conduct.
There was not a guard in sight. Probably the room was being scanned from a board somewhere; I suppose every room in the White House has an "eye & ear" in it; but there was no one physically in view.
At last I got desperate enough to start trying doors. The first two were locked; the third was what I was looking for. It was not marked "Sacred to the Chief" nor did it appear to be booby-trapped, so I used it.
When I came back into the conference room, Mary was there.
I looked at her stupidly for a moment. "I thought you were with the President?"
She smiled. "I was, but I got chased out. The Old Man took over for me."
I said, "Say, Mary, I've been wanting to talk with you and this is the first chance I've had. I guess I?Well, anyway, I shouldn't have, I mean, according to the Old Man?" I stopped, my carefully rehearsed speech in ruins. "Anyhow, I shouldn't have said what I did," I concluded miserably.
She put a hand on my arm. "Sam. Sam, my very dear, do not be troubled. What you said and what you did was fair enough from what you knew. The important thing, to me, is what you did for me. The rest does not matter?except that I am happy again to know that you don't despise me."
"Well, but?Damn it, don't be so noble! I can't stand it!"
She gave me a merry, lively smile, not at all like the gentle one with which she had greeted me. "Sam, I think you like your women to be a little bit bitchy. I warn you, I can be so." She went on, "You are still worried about that slap, too, I think. All right, I'll pay it back." She reached up and patted me gently on the cheek, once. "There, it's paid back and you can forget it."
Her expression suddenly changed, she swung on me?and I thought the top of my head was coming off. "And that," she said in a tense, hoarse whisper, "pays you back the one I got from your girlfriend!" 
My ears were ringing and my eyes did not want to focus. If I had not seen her bare palm, I would have sworn that she had used at least a two-by-four.
She looked at me, wary and defiant, not the least apologetic?angry, rather, if dilated nostrils meant anything. I raised a hand and she tensed?but I just wanted to touch my stinging cheek. It was very sore. "She's not my girlfriend," I said lamely.
We eyed each other and simultaneously burst out laughing. She put both her hands on my shoulders and let her head collapse on my right one, still laughing. "Sam," she managed to say, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done it?not to you, Sam. At least I shouldn't have slapped you so hard."
"The devil you're sorry," I growled, "but you shouldn't have put English on it. You damn near took the hide off."
"Poor Sam!" She reached up and touched it; it hurt. "She's really not your girlfriend?" 
"No, worse luck. But not from lack of my trying." 
"I'm sure it wasn't. Who is your girlfriend, Sam?" The words seem coquettish; she did not make them so. 
"You are, you vixen!"
"Yes," she said comfortably, "I am?if you'll have me. I told you that before. And I meant it. Bought and paid for."
She was waiting to be kissed; I pushed her away. "Confound it, woman, I don't want you 'bought and paid for'."
It did not faze her. "I put it badly. Paid for?but not bought. I'm here because I want to be here. Now will you kiss me, please?"
So help me, up to that moment she had not turned on the sex, not really. When she saw that the answer was yes, she did so and it was like summer sun coming out from a cloud. That is inadequate but it will have to do.
She had kissed me once before; this time she kissed me. The French are smart; they have two words for it . . . this was the other one. I felt myself sinking into a warm golden haze and I did not ever want to come up.
Finally I had to break and gasped. "I think I'll sit down for a minute." 
She said, "Thank you, Sam," and let me.
"Mary," I said presently, "Mary, my dear, there is something you possibly could do for me." 
"Yes?" she said eagerly.
"Tell me how in the name of Ned a person gets anything to eat around here? I'm starved. No breakfast." 
She looked startled; I suppose she had expected something else. But she answered, "Why, certainly!" 
I don't know where she went nor how she did it. She may have butted into the White House pantry and helped herself. But she returned in a few minutes with a tray of sandwiches and two bottles of beer. Corned beef and rye put the roses back in my cheeks. I was cleaning up my third when I said, "Mary, how long do you figure that meeting will last?"
"Let me see," she answered, "fourteen people, including the Old Man. I give it a minimum of two hours. Why?"
"In that case," I said, swallowing the last bite, "we have time to duck out of here, find a registry office, get married, and get back before the Old Man misses us."
She did not answer and she did not look at me. Instead she stared at the bubbles in her beer. "Well?" I insisted.
She raised her eyes. "I'll do it if you say so. I'm not welshing. But I'm not going to start out by lying to you. I would rather we didn't." 
"You don't want to marry me?" 
"Sam, I don't think you are ready to get married." 
"Speak for yourself!"
"Don't be angry, my dear. I'm not holding out?honest. You can have me with or without a contract, anywhere, anywhen, anyway. But you don't know me yet. Get acquainted with me; you might change your mind." 
"I'm not in the habit of changing my mind." She glanced up without answering, then looked away sadly. I felt my face get hot. "That was a very special circumstance," I protested. "It could not happen to us again in a hundred years. That wasn't really me talking; it was?"
She stopped me. "I know, Sam. And now you want to prove to me that it didn't really happen or at least that you are sure of your own mind now. But you don't have to prove anything. I won't run out on you and I don't mistrust you. Take me away on a weekend; better yet, move into my apartment. If you find that I wear well, there's always time to make me what great grandmother called an 'honest woman', heaven knows why."
I must have looked sullen; I felt so. She put a hand on mine and said seriously, "Take a look at the map, Sam."
I turned my head and looked. Red as ever, or more so?it seemed to me that the danger zone around El Paso had increased. She went on, "Let's get this mess cleaned up first, dear. Then, if you still want to, ask me again. In the meantime, you can have the privileges without the responsibilities."
What could be fairer than that? The only trouble was that it was not the way I wanted it. Why will a man who has been avoiding marriage like the plague suddenly decide that nothing less will suit him? I had seen it happen a hundred times and never understood it; now I was doing it myself.
Mary had to go back on duty as soon as the meeting was over. The Old Man collared me and took me for a walk. Yes, a walk, though we went only as far as the Baruch Memorial Bench. There he sat down, fiddled with his pipe, and stared into space. The day was as muggy as only Washington can get, but the park was almost deserted. People were not yet used to Schedule Bare Back.
He said, "Schedule Counter Blast starts at midnight." 
I said nothing; questioning him was useless.
Presently he added, "We swoop down on every relay station, broadcast station, newspaper office, and Western Union office in 'Zone Red'."
"Sounds good," I answered. "How many men does it take?"
He did not answer; instead he said, "I don't like it. I don't like it a little bit." 
"Huh?"
"See here, bub?the President went on the channels and told everybody to peel off their shirts. We find that the message did not get through into infected territory. What's the next logical development?" 
I shrugged. "Schedule Counter Blast, I suppose." 
"That hasn't happened yet. Think?it has been more than twenty-four hours: what should have happened and hasn't?" 
"Should I know?"
"You should, if you are ever going to amount to anything on your own. Here?" He handed me a combo key. "Scoot out to Kansas City and take a looksee. Stay away from comm stations, cops, and?shucks, you know their attack points better than I do. Stay away from them. Take a look at anything else. And don't get caught." He looked at his finger and added, "Be back here a half hour before midnight, or sooner. Get going."
"A lot of time you allow me to case a whole city," I complained. "It will take nearly three hours just to drive to Kansas City."
"More than three hours," he answered. "Don't attract attention by picking up a ticket." 
"You know dam well I'm a careful driver." 
"Move."
So I moved, stopping by the White House to pick up my kit. I wasted ten minutes convincing a new guard that I really had been there overnight and actually had possessions to pick up.
The combo was to the car we had come down in; I picked it up at Rock Creek Park platform. Traffic was light and I commented on it to the dispatcher as I handed in the combo. "Freight and commercial carriers are grounded," he answered. "The emergency?you got a military clearance?"
I knew I could get one by phoning the Old Man, but bothering him about minutiae does not endear one to him. I said, "Check the number."
He shrugged and slipped the combo in his machine. My hunch had been right; his eyebrows shot up and he handed it back. "How you rate!" he commented. "You must be the President's fair-haired boy."
He did not ask for my destination and I did not offer it. His machine probably broke into "Hail, Columbia!" when the Old Man's number hit it.
Once launched, I set the controls for Kansas City at legal max and tried to think. The transponder beeped as radar beams hit it each time I slid from one control block into the next, but no faces appeared on the screen. Apparently the Old Man's combo was good for the route, emergency or not.
I began to wonder what would happen when I slipped over into the red areas?and then realized what he had been driving at when he talked about "the next logical development". Would the control net pass me on through into areas we knew darn well were infested by titans?
One tends to think of communications as meaning the line-of-sight channels and nothing else. But "communications" means all traffic of every sort, even dear old Aunt Mamie, headed for California with her head stuffed with gossip. The slugs had seized the channels and the President's proclamation had not gotten through, or so we assumed?but news can't be stopped that easily; such measures merely slow it down. Behind the Soviet Curtain Aunt Sonya does not go on long trips; it ain't healthy. Ergo, if the slugs expected to retain control where they were, seizing the channels would be just their first step.
It stood to reason that they were not numerous enough to interfere with all traffic, but what would they do?
I reached only the unhelpful conclusion that they would do something and that I, being a part of "communications" by definition, had better be prepared for evasive action if I wanted to save my pretty pink skin.
In the meantime the Mississippi River and Zone Red were sliding closer by the minute. I wondered what would happen the first time my recognition signal was picked up by a station controlled by masters. I tried to think like a titan?impossible, I found, even though I had been a slave to one. The idea revolted me.
Well, then, what would a security commissar do if an unfriendly craft flew past the Curtain? Have it shot down, of course. No, that was not the answer; I was probably safe in the air.
But I had better not let them spot me landing. Elementary.
"Elementary" in the face of a traffic control net which was described proudly as the No-Sparrow-Shall-Fall plan. They boasted that a butterfly could not make a forced landing anywhere in the United States without alerting the search & rescue system. Not quite true?but I was no butterfly.
What I wanted was to land short of the infested area and go in on the ground. On foot I will make a stab at penetrating any security screen, mechanical, electronic, manned, or mixed. But how can you use misdirection in a car making westing a full degree every seven minutes? Or hang a stupid, innocent look on the nose of a duo?
If I went in on foot the Old Man would get his report come next Michaelmas; he wanted it before midnight.
Once, in a rare mellow mood, the Old Man told me that he did not bother his agents with detailed instructions?give a man a mission; let him sink or swim. I suggested that his method must use up a lot of agents.
"Some," he had admitted, "but not as many as the other way. I believe in the individual and I try to pick individuals who are survivor types."
"And how in the hell," I had asked him, "do you know when you've got a 'survivor type'."
He had grinned at me wickedly. "A survivor type is an agent who comes back. Then I know."
I had to reach a decision in the next few minutes. Elihu, I said to myself, you are about to find out which type you are?and damn his icy heart!
My course would take me in toward St. Louis, swing me in the city loop around St. Louis, and on to Kansas City. But St. Louis was in Zone Red. The military-situation map had showed Chicago as still green; as I remembered it the amber line had zigzagged west somewhere above Hannibal, Missouri?and I wanted very badly to cross the Mississippi while still in Zone Green. A car crossing that mile-wide river would make a radar blip as sharp as a desert star.
I signaled block control for permission to descend to local-traffic level, then did so without waiting, resuming manual control and cutting my speed. I headed north.
Short of the Springfield loop I headed west again, staying low. When I reached the river I crossed slowly, close to the water, with my transponder shut down. Sure, you can't shut off your radar recognition signal in the air, not in a standard rig?but the Section's cars were not standard. The Old Man was not above using gangster tricks.
I had hopes, if local traffic were being monitored while I crossed, that my blip would be mistaken for a boat on the river. I did not know certainly whether the next block station across the river was Zone Red or Zone Green, but, if my memory was correct, it should be green.
I was about to cut in the transponder again on the assumption that it would be safer, or at least less conspicuous, to get back into the traffic system when I noticed the shoreline opening up ahead of me. The map did not show a tributary there; I judged it to be an inlet, or possibly a new channel cut in the spring floods and not yet mapped. I dropped almost to water level and headed into it. The stream was narrow, meandering, and almost overhung by trees and I had no more business taking a sky car into it than a bee has of flying down a trombone?but it afforded perfect radar "shadow"; I could get lost in it.
In a few minutes I was lost, not only from any monitoring technician, but lost myself, right off the map. The channel switched and turned and cut back and I was so busy bucking the car by hand, trying to keep from crashing that I lost all track of navigation. I swore and wished that the car were a triphib so that I could land on water.
The trees suddenly broke on the left bank; I saw a stretch of level land, kicked her over and squatted her in with a deceleration that nearly cut me in two against my safety belt. But I was down and no longer trying to play catfish in a muddy stream.
I wondered what to do. There seemed to be nobody around; I judged that I was on the back end of someone's farm. No doubt there was a highway close by. I had better find it and stay on the ground.
But I knew that was silly even as I thought it. Three hours from Washington to Kansas City by air?I had completed almost all the trip and now I was how far away from Kansas City? By land, about three hours. At that rate, all I needed to make the trip complete was to park the car ten or twelve miles outside Kansas City and walk; then I would still have three hours to go.
I felt like the frog who jumped halfway to the end of the log with each hop, but never got there. I must get back into the air.
But I did not dare do so until I knew positively whether traffic here was being controlled by free men, or by slugs.
It suddenly occurred to me that I had not turned on the stereo since leaving Washington. I am not much for stereo; between the commercials and the junk they sandwich between them I sometimes wonder about "progress". But a newscast may have uses.
I could not find a newscast. I got (a) a lecture by Myrtle Doolightly, Ph.D., on Why Husbands Grow Bored, sponsored by the Uth-a-gen Hormone Company?I decided that she probably had plenty of experience in her subject; (b) a trio of girl hepsters singing If You Mean What I think You Mean, What are We Waiting For? (c) an episode in Lucretia Learns About Life.
Dear Doctor Myrtle was fully dressed and could have hidden half a dozen titans around her frame. The trio were dressed about the way one would expect them to be, but they did not turn their backs to the camera. Lucretia appeared to alternate having her clothes torn off with taking them off willingly, but the camera always cut or the lights always went out just before I could check on whether or not her back was bare?of slugs, that is.
And none of it meant anything. Those programs could have been taped weeks or months before the President announced Schedule Bare Back. I was still switching channels, trying to find a newscast?or any live program?when I found myself staring into the professionally unctuous smile of an announcer. He was fully dressed.
Shortly I realized it was one of those silly give-away shows. He was saying: "?and some lucky little woman sitting by her screen right this minute is about to receive, absolutely free, a General Atomics Six-in-One Automatic Home Butler. Who will it be? You? You? Or lucky you? He turned away from scan; I could see his shoulders. They were covered by shirt and jacket and distinctly rounded, almost humped. I was inside Zone Red.
When I switched off I realized that I was being watched?by a male urchin about nine years old. He was wearing nothing but shorts, but the brown of his shoulders showed that such was his custom. I threw back the windscreen. "Hey, bub, where's the highway?"
He continued to stare before replying, "Road to Macon's up there yonder. Say, mister, that's a Cadillac Zipper, ain't it?"
"Sure thing. Where yonder?" 
"Give me a ride, huh, will you?" 
"Haven't got time. Where's the road?"
He sized me up before answering, "Take me along and I'll show you."
I gave in. While he climbed in and looked around, I opened my kit, got out shirt, trousers, and jacket, and put them on. I said conversationally, "Maybe I shouldn't put on this shirt. Do people around here wear shirts?" 
He scowled. "I've got shirts!"
"I didn't say you didn't; I just asked if people around here wore shirts."
"Of course they do. Where do you think you are, mister; Arkansas?"
I gave up and asked again about the road. He said, "Can I punch the button when we take off, huh?" 
I explained that we were going to stay on the ground. He was frankly annoyed but condescended to point out a direction. I drove cautiously as the car was heavy for unpaved countryside. Presently he told me to turn. Quite a bit later I stopped the car and said, "Are you going to show me where that road is, or am I going to wallop your backsides?" 
He opened the door and slid out. "Hey!" I yelled.
He looked back. "Over that way," he admitted. I turned the car, not really expecting to find a highway, but finding one, nevertheless, only fifty yards away. The brat had caused me to drive around three sides of a large square.
If you could call it a highway?there was not an ounce of rubber in the paving. Still, it was a road; I followed it to the west. All in all, I had wasted more than an hour.
Macon, Missouri seemed normal?much too normal to be reassuring, as Schedule Bare Back obviously had not been heard of here. There were a number of bare backs, but it was a hot day. There were more backs that were covered and any of them might have concealed a slug. I gave serious thought to checking this town, rather than Kansas City, then beating back the way I had come, while I could. Pushing further into country which I knew to be controlled by the masters made me as nervous as a preacher at a stag party; I wanted to run.
But the Old Man had said "Kansas City"; he would take a dim view of a substitute. Finally I drove the belt around Macon and pulled into a landing flat on the far side. There I queued up for local traffic launching and headed for Kansas City in a mess of farmers' copters and suchlike local craft. I would have to hold local speeds all across the state, but that was safer than getting into the hot pattern with my transponder identifying my car to every block control station.
The field was automatically serviced, no attendants, not even at the fuelling line. It seemed probable that I had managed to enter the Missouri traffic pattern without arousing suspicion. True, there was a block control station back in Illinois which might be wondering where I had gone, but that did not matter.

XVII
Kansas City is an old-fashioned city; it was not hurt in the bombings; except on the East Side where Independence used to be. Consequently, it was never rebuilt. From the southeast you can drive almost downtown, as far as Swope Park, without having to choose between parking or paying toll to enter the city proper.
One can fly in and make another choice: land in the landing flats north of the Missouri River and take the tunnels into the city, or land on the downtown platforms south of Memorial Hill.
I decided against both of these; I wanted the car near me but I did not want to have to pick it up through a checking system. If it came to a pinch, I could not shoot my way out while offering my combo to a parking attendant. I did not like tunnels in a pinch, either?nor launching platform elevators. A man can be trapped in such.
Frankly I did not want to go into the city at all.
I roaded the car on Route 40 and drove into the Meyer Boulevard toll gate. The line waiting to pay toll for the doubtful privilege of driving on a city street was quite long; I began to feel hemmed in as soon as another car filled in behind me and wished mightily that I had decided to park and go in by the public passenger ways. But the gatekeeper took my toll without glancing at me. I glanced at him, all right, but could not tell whether or not he was being ridden.
I drove through the gate with a sigh of relief?only to be stopped just beyond the gate. A barrier dropped in front of me and I just managed to stop the car, whereupon a cop stuck his head in the side I had open. "Safety check," he said. "Climb out."
I protested that my car had just been inspected. "No doubt," he agreed, "but the city is having a safety drive. Here's your car check. Pick it up just beyond the barrier. Now get out and go in that door." He pointed to a low building a few steps from the curb. 
"What for?"
"Eyesight and reflexes," he explained. "Come on. You're holding up the line."
In my mind's eye, I saw the map, with Kansas City glowing red. That the city was "secured" I was sure; therefore this mild-mannered policeman was almost surely hag-ridden. I did not need to look at his shoulders.
But, short of shooting him and making an emergency take-off from that spot, there was nothing I could do but comply. With a normal, everyday cop I would have tried the bribe direct, slipping him money as he handed me my car check. But titans don't use money.
Or do they?
I got out, grumbling, and walked slowly toward the building. The door near me was marked "IN"; there was one at the far end marked "OUT"; a man came out from it as I approached. I wanted very badly to ask him what he had found.
It was a temporary building with an old-style unpowered door. I pushed it open with a toe and glanced both sides and up before I entered. It seemed safe. Inside was an empty anteroom with open door beyond.
Someone inside called out, "Come in." Still as cautious as the setup permitted, I went in.
There were two men, both in white coats, one with a doctor's speculum strapped to his head. He looked up and said briskly, "This won't take a minute. Step over here." He closed the door I had entered; I heard the latch click.
It was a sweeter setup than we had worked out for the Constitution Club; had I had time I would have admired it. Spread out on a long table were transit cells for masters, already opened and warmed. The second man had one ready?for me, I knew?and was holding it tilted toward him, so that I could not see the slug inside. The transit cells would not arouse alarm in the minds of victims; medical men always have things at hand which are odd to the layman.
As for the rest, I was being invited to place my eyes against the goggles of a quite ordinary visual acuity tester. The "doctor" would keep me there, blindfolded without knowing it and reading test figures, while his "assistant" fitted me with a master. No violence, no slips, no protests.
It was not even necessary, as I had learned during my own "service", to bare the victim's back. Just touch the master to the bare neck, then let the new recruit himself adjust his clothing to cover his master before he left.
"Right over here," the "doctor" repeated. "Place your eyes against the eyepieces."
Moving very quickly I went to the bench on which was mounted the acuity tester and started to comply. Then I turned suddenly around.
The assistant had moved in closer: the cell was ready in his hands. As I turned he tilted it away from me. "Doctor," I said, "I wear contact lenses. Should I take them off?"
"No, no," he snapped. "Let's not waste time."
"But, Doctor," I protested, "I want you to see how they fit. Now I've had a little trouble with this left one?" I lifted both hands and pulled back the upper and lower lids of my left eye. "See?"
He said angrily, "This is not a clinic. Now, if you please?" They were both within reach; lowering my arms in a mighty bear hug I got them both?and grabbed with clutched fingers at the spot between each set of shoulder blades. With each hand I struck something soft and mushy under the coats and felt revulsion shake me at the touch.
Once I saw a cat struck by a ground car; the poor thing leapt straight up about four feet with its back arched the wrong way and all limbs flying. These two unlucky men did the same sort of thing; they contorted in every muscle in a grand spasm as if every motor cell in each body had been stimulated at once.
Which is perhaps just what happened when I clutched and crushed their masters.
I could not hold them; they jerked out of my arms and flopped to the floor. But there was no need to hold them; after that first bone-shaking convulsion they went limp, unconscious, possibly dead.
Someone was knocking at the door. I called out, "Just a moment. The doctor is busy." The knocking stopped. I made sure that the door was fastened, then went back, bent over the "doctor" and pulled up his coat to see what I had done to his master.
The thing was a ruptured, slimy mess, already beginning to stink. So was the one on the other man?which facts pleased me heartily as I was determined to burn the slugs if they were not already dead and I was not sure that I could do so without killing the hosts as well. I left the men, to live or die?or be seized again by titans, as might be. I had no way to help them.
The masters waiting in their cells were another matter. With a fan beam and a max charge I burned them all in seconds only. There were two large crates against the wall. I did not know that they contained masters but I had no reason to believe otherwise; I beamed them through and through until the wood charred.
The knocking at the door resumed. I looked around hastily for somewhere to hide the two men. There was nowhere at all, so I decided to execute the classic military maneuver. As I was about to go out the exit, I felt that something was missing. I hesitated and looked around again.
The room was almost bare; there seemed to be nothing suited to my purpose. I could use clothing from the "doctor" or his helper, but I did not want to touch them. Then I noticed the dust cover for the acuity tester lying on the bench. I loosened my shirt, snatched up the dust cover, wadded it up, and stuffed it under my shirt between my shoulder blades. With my shirt collar fastened and my jacket zipped tightly it made a bulge of the proper size.
Then I went out, "?a stranger and afraid, into a world I never made." 
As a matter of fact I was feeling pretty cocky.
Another cop took my car check. He glanced sharply at me, then motioned me to climb in. I did so and he said, "Go to police headquarters, under the City Hall."
" 'Police headquarters, the City Hall'," I repeated and gunned her ahead. I started in that direction and turned onto Nichols Freeway. I came to a stretch where traffic thinned out and punched the button to shift license plates, hoping that no one would notice. It seemed possible that there was already a call out for the plates I had been showing at the toll gate. I wished that I had been able to change the car's colors and body lines as well.
Before the freeway reached Magee Traffic Way, I turned into a down ramp and stuck thereafter to residential side streets. It was eighteen hundred, zone six time, and I was due in Washington in four and one-half hours.

XVIII
The city did not look right. I tried to discount my own keyed-up state and to see what was actually there?not what I expected to see nor what I was expected to see. Superficially there was nothing wrong, but it did not have the right flavor, as if it were a clumsily directed play. I kept trying to put my finger on it; it kept slipping away.
Kansas City has many wide neighborhoods made up of family units a century old or more. Time seems to have passed them by; kids roll on lawns and householders sit in the cool of the evening on their front porches, just as their great-grandparents did. If there are bomb shelters around, they do not show. The queer, old, bulky houses, fitted together piece by piece by guildsmen long since dead, have homely charm. Seeing them, one wonders how Kansas City got its gamy reputation; those old neighborhoods feel like an enclave of security, impregnable, untouchable.
I cruised through, dodging dogs and rubber balls and toddlers who chased after each, and tried to get the feel of the place. It was the slack of the day, time for the first drink, for watering lawns, and for neighborly chatting.
And so it seemed. Ahead of me I saw a woman bending over a flower bed. She was wearing a sun suit and her back was bare as mine?more so, for I had that wad of cloth stuffed under my jacket. But clearly she was not wearing a master, nor were the two young kids with her. So what could be wrong?
It was a hot day, hotter even than Washington had been; I began to look for bare shoulders, sun-suited women and men in shorts and sandals. Kansas City, despite its reputation, is in the Bible Belt and feels its puritanical influence. People there do not strip to the weather with the cheerful unanimity of Laguna Beach or Coral Gables. An adult fully covered up is never conspicuous, even on the hottest day.
So I found people dressed both ways?but the proportions were wrong. Sure, there were plenty of kids dressed for the weather, but in several miles of driving I saw the bare backs of only five adult women and two adult men.
I should have seen more like five hundred. It was a hot day.
Cipher it out. While some jackets undoubtedly did not cover masters, by simple proportion well over ninety percent of the population must be possessed.
This city was not "secured" the way we had secured New Brooklyn; this city was saturated. The masters did not simply hold key points and key officials; the masters were the city.
I felt a panicky urge to blast off right from the street and streak out of Zone Red at emergency maximum. They knew that I had escaped the toll gate trap; they would be looking for me. I might be the only free man driving a car in the entire city?and they were all around me!
I fought it down. An agent who gets the wind up is no use to himself or his boss and is not likely to get out of a tight spot. But I had not fully recovered from what it had done to me to be possessed; it was hard to be calm.
I counted ten, delayed my reactions, and tried to figure the situation. It seemed that I must be wrong; there could not possibly be enough masters available to permit them to saturate a city with a million population. I remembered my own experiences hardly two weeks earlier; I recalled how we picked our recruits and made each new host count. Of course that had been a secondary invasion in which we had depended on shipments, whereas Kansas City almost certainly had had a flying saucer land nearby.
Still it did not make sense; it would have taken, I felt sure, not one saucer but a dozen or more, to carry enough masters to saturate Kansas City. If there had been that many surely the space stations would have spotted them, radar-tracked their landing orbits.
Or could it be that they had no trajectories to track? That they simply appeared instead of swooping down like a rocket? Maybe they used that hypothetical old favorite, the "space-time warp"? I did not know what a space-time warp was and I doubted if anyone knew, but it would do to tag a type of landing which could not be spotted by radar. We did not know what the masters were capable of in the way of engineering and it was not safe to judge their limitations by our own.
But the data I had led to a conclusion which contradicted common logic; therefore I must check before I reported back. One thing seemed sure: if I assumed that the masters had in fact almost saturated this city, then it was evident that they were still keeping up the masquerade. For the time being they were permitting the city to look like a city of free human beings. Perhaps I was not as conspicuous as I feared.
While I was thinking I had moseyed along another mile or so, going nowhere. Once I found myself heading into the retail district around the Plaza; I swung away; where there are crowds, there are cops. But I skimmed the edge of the district and in so doing passed a public swimming pool. I observed it and filed what I had seen. My mind works by delays and priorities; an item having a low priority is held until the circuits are cleared and ready for it.
To put it bluntly, I am subject to doubletakes.
I was several blocks away before I reviewed the swimming pool datum; it had not been much: the gates were locked and it carried a sign?"CLOSED FOR THE SEASON".
A swimming pool closed down during the hottest part of the summer? What did it mean? Nothing at all; swimming pools have gone out of business before and will again. On the other hand it was contrary to the logic of economics to close such an enterprise during the season of greatest profit except through utter necessity. The odds against it were long.
But a swimming pool was the one place where the masquerade could not possibly be maintained. From the viewpoint of humans a closed pool was less conspicuous than a pool unpatronized in hot weather. And I knew that the masters noted and followed the human point of view in their maneuvers?shucks, I had been there!
Item: a trap at the city's toll gates; item: too few sun suits; item: a closed swimming pool.
Conclusion: the slugs were incredibly more numerous than had been dreamed by anyone?including myself who had been possessed by them.
Corollary: Schedule Counter Blast was based on a mistaken estimate of the enemy and would work as well as hunting rhinoceri with a slingshot.
Counter argument: what I thought I saw was physically impossible. I could hear Secretary Martinez's restrained sarcasm tearing my report to shreds. My guesses referred only to Kansas City and were insufficiently grounded even there. Thank you kindly for your interest but what you need is a long rest and freedom from nervous strain. Now, gentlemen?
Pfui!
I had to have something strong enough for the Old Man to convince the President over the reasonable objections of his official advisers?and I had to have it right away. Even with a total disregard of traffic laws I could not clip much off two and a half hours running time back to Washington.
What could I dig up that would be convincing? Go farther downtown, mingle with crowds, and then tell Martinez that I was sure that almost every man I passed was possessed? How could I prove it? For that matter, how could I myself be certain; I did not have Mary's special talent. As long as the titans kept up the farce of "business as usual" the tell-tales would be subtle, a superabundance of round shoulders, a paucity of bare ones.
True, there was the toll gate trap. I had some notion now of how the city had been saturated, granting a large enough supply of slugs. I felt sure that I would encounter another such trap on the way out and that there would be others like it on launching platforms and at every other entrance and exit to the city proper. Every person leaving would be a new agent for the masters; every person entering would be a new slave.
This I felt sure of without being inclined to test it by visiting a launching platform. I had once set up such a trap in the Constitution Club; no one who entered it had escaped.
I had noticed a vendo-printer for the Kansas City Star on the last corner I had passed. Now I swung around the block and came back to it, pulled up, and got out. I shoved a dime in the slot and waited for my paper to be printed. It seemed to take unusually long, but that was my own nervousness, I felt that every passer-by was staring at me.
The Star's format had its usual dull respectability-no excitement, no mention of an emergency, no reference to Schedule Bare Back. The lead news story was headed PHONE SERVICE DISRUPTED BY SUNSPOT STORM, with a subhead City Semi-Isolated by Solar Static. There was a 3-col, semi-stereo, trukolor of the sun, its face disfigured by cosmic acne. The pic carried a Palomar date line, as did one of the substories.
The picture was a good fake?or perhaps they pulled a real one out of the paper's library. It added up to a convincing and unexciting explanation of why Mamie Schultz, herself free of parasites, could not get her call through to Grandma in Pittsburgh.
The rest of the paper looked normal. I tucked it under my arm to study later and turned back to my car . . . just as a police car glided silently up and cramped in across the nose of it. A cop got out.
A police car seems to condense a crowd out of air. A moment before the corner was deserted?else I would never have stopped. Now there were people all around and the cop was coming toward me. My hand crept closer to my gun; I would have dropped him had I not been sure that most, if not all, of those around me were equally dangerous.
He stopped in front of me. "Let me see your license," he said pleasantly.
"Certainly, officer," I agreed, "It's clipped to the instrument board of my car." I stepped past him, letting it be assumed that he would follow me. I could feel him hesitate, then take the bait. I led him around to the far side, between my car and his. This let me see that he did not have a mate in his car, a most welcome variation from human practice. More important, it placed my car between me and the too-innocent bystanders.
"Right there," I said, pointing inside, "it's fastened down." Again he hesitated, then looked?just long enough for me to use the new technique I had developed through necessity. My left hand slapped down on his shoulders and I clutched with all my strength.
It was the "struck cat" all over again. His body seemed to explode so violent was the spasm. I was in the car and gunning it almost before he hit the pavement.
And none too soon. The masquerade broke as suddenly as it had in Barnes's outer office; the crowd closed in. One young woman clung by her nails to the smooth outside of the car for fifty feet or more before she fell off. By then I was making speed and still accelerating. I cut in and out of oncoming traffic, ready to take to the air but lacking space.
A cross street showed up on the left; I slammed into it. It was a mistake; trees arched over it and I could not take off. The next turn was even worse; I cursed the city planners who had made Kansas City so parklike.
Of necessity I slowed down. Now I was cruising at a conservative city speed, still watching for a street which would carry me to some boulevard wide enough for an illegal take-off. My thoughts began to catch up with me and I realized that there was no sign of pursuit. My own too-intimate knowledge of the masters came to my aid. Except for "direct conference" a titan lives in and through his host; he sees what the host sees; receives and passes on information through whatever organs and by whatever means are available to the host.
I knew that. So I knew that it was unlikely that any of the slugs at the corner had been looking for that particular car other than the one inhabiting the body of a policeman?and I had settled with it!
Now, of course, the other parasites present would be on the lockout for me, too?but they had only the bodily abilities and facilities of their hosts. I decided that I need treat them with no more respect, or only a little more respect, than I would give to any casual crowd of witnesses, i.e., ignore them; change neighborhoods and forget it.
For I had nearly thirty minutes of grace left and I had decided what it was I needed as proof; a prisoner, a man who had been possessed and could tell what had happened to the city. I had to rescue a host.
I had to capture a man who was possessed, capture him without hurting him, kill or remove his rider, and kidnap him back to Washington. I had not time to pick a victim, to make plans; I must act now. Even as I decided, I saw a man walking in the block ahead. He was carrying a briefcase and stepping along like a man who sees home and supper ahead. I pulled alongside him and said, "Hey!" 
He stopped. "Eh?"
I said, "I've just come from City Hall. No time to explain?slide in here and we'll have a direct conference."
He answered, "City Hall? What are you talking about?" 
I said, "Change in plans. Don't waste time. Get in!" 
He backed away. I jumped out of the car and grabbed at his hunched shoulders.
Nothing happened?nothing, save that my hand struck bony human flesh, and the man began to yell.
I jumped back into the car and got out of there fast. When I was blocks away I slowed and thought it over. Could it be that I was wrong, that my nerves were so overwrought that I saw signs of titans where there were none?
No! For the moment I had the Old Man's indomitable will to face facts, to see them as they were. The toll gate, the sun suits, the swimming pool, the cop at the vendo-printer . . . those facts I knew?and this last fact simply meant that I had hit the double-zero, rolled boxcars, picked the one man in ten, or whatever the odds were, who was not yet recruited. I speeded up, looking for a new victim.
He was a middle-aged man watering his lawn, a figure so bucolic and out-of-this-century that I was half a mind to pass him by. But I had no time left?and he wore a heavy sweater which bulged suspiciously. Had I seen his wife on the veranda I would have gone past, for she was dressed in bra and skirt and so could not have been possessed.
He looked up inquiringly as I stopped. "I've just come from City Hall," I repeated. "You and I need a direct conference right away. Get in."
He said quietly, "Come in the house for it. That car is too public."
I wanted to refuse but he had already turned and was heading for the house. As I came up by him he whispered, "Careful. The woman is not of us." 
"Your wife?" 
"Yes."
We stopped on the porch and he said, "My dear, this is Mr. O'Keefe. We have some business to discuss. We'll be in the study."
She smiled and answered, "Certainly, my love. Good evening, Mr. O'Keefe. Sultry, isn't it?" 
I agreed that it was and she went back to her knitting. We went on inside and the man ushered me into his study. Since we were both keeping the masquerade I went in first, as befitted a visitor being escorted. I did not like turning my back on him.
For that reason I was half expecting it. He hit me near the base of the neck. But I rolled with it and went down almost unhurt. I continued to roll and fetched up on my back.
In training school they used to slap us with sandbags for trying to get up, once down. I recall my savate instructor saying in a flat Belgian accent, "Brave men get up again?and die. Be a coward?fight from the floor."
So I was on my back and threatening him with my heels as soon as I hit. He danced back out of range. Apparently he did not have a gun and I could get at mine. But there was an open fireplace in the room, a real one, complete with poker, shovel, and tongs. He circled toward it.
There was a small table just out of my reach. I half rolled, half lunged, grabbed a leg and threw it. It caught him in the face as he was grabbing the poker. Then I was on him.
His master was dying in my fingers and he himself was convulsing under its last, terrible command when I became aware of nerve-shattering screams. His wife was standing in the doorway. I bounced up and let her have one, right about her double chin. She went down in mid scream and I returned to her husband.
A limp man is amazingly hard to lift; it took me longer to get him up and across my shoulders than it had to silence him. He was heavy. Fortunately I am a big husky, all hands and feet; I managed a lumbering dog trot toward the car. I doubt if the noise of our fight disturbed anyone but my victim's wife, but her screams must have aroused half that end of town. There were people popping out of doors on both sides of the street. So far, none of them was near, but I was glad to see that I had left the car door open. I hurried toward it.
Then I was sorry; a brat who looked like the twin of the one who had given me trouble earlier was inside fiddling with the controls. Cursing, I dumped my prisoner in the lounge circle and grabbed at the kid. The boy shrank back and struggled, but I tore him loose and threw him out?straight into the arms of the first of my pursuers.
That saved me. He was still untangling himself as I slammed into the driver's seat and shot forward without bothering with door or safety belt. As I took the first corner the door swung shut and I almost went out of my seat; I then held a straight course long enough to fasten the belt. I cut sharp on another corner, nearly ran down a ground car coming out, and went on.
I found the wide boulevard I needed?the Paseo, I think?and jabbed the take-off key. Possibly I caused several wrecks; I had no time to worry about it. Without waiting to reach altitude I wrestled her to course east and continued to climb as I made easting. I kept her on manual across Missouri and expended every launching unit in her racks to give her more speed. That reckless and illegal action may have saved my neck; somewhere over Columbia, just as I fired the last one, I felt the car shake to concussion. Someone had launched an interceptor, a devil-chaser would be my guess?and the pesky thing had fused where I had just been.
There were no more shots, which was good, as I would have been a duck on water from then on. My starboard impeller began to run hot immediately thereafter, possibly from the near miss or perhaps simply from abuse. I let it heat, praying that it would not fly apart, for another ten minutes. Then, with the Mississippi behind me and the indicator way up into "danger" I cut it out and let the car limp along on the port unit. Three hundred was the best she would do?but I was out of Zone Red and back among free men.
Up until then I had not had time to give my passenger more than a glance. He lay where I had slung him, sprawled on the floor pads, unconscious or dead. Now that I was back among men and no longer had the power for illegal speeds there was no reason not to go automatic. I flipped on the transponder, signaled a request for block assignment, and put the controls on automatic without waiting for permission. A block control technician might curse me out and even note my signal for a citation, but they would fit me into the system somehow. I swung around into the lounge and looked my man over.
He was breathing but still out. There was a welt on his face where I had clipped him with the table, but no bones seemed broken and I doubted that he would be unconscious from that cause. I slapped his face and dug my thumbnails into his ear lobes but I could not rouse him.
The dead slug was beginning to stink but I had no way to dispose of it. I let him be and went back to the control seat.
The chronometer read twenty-one thirty-seven Washington time?and I still had better than six hundred miles to go. At my best speed on one power plant, allowing nothing for landing, for tearing over to the White House and finding the Old Man, I would reach Washington a few minutes after midnight. So I had already failed to carry out the letter of my orders and the Old Man was sure as the devil going to make me stay in after school for it.
I took a chance and tried to start the starboard impeller. No dice?it was probably frozen solid and needing a major overhaul. Perhaps just as well, as anything that goes that fast can be explosively dangerous if it gets out of balance?so I desisted and tried to raise the Old Man by phone.
The phone would not work. Perhaps I had jiggered it in one of the spots of exercise I had been forced to take that day but I had never had one fail me before. Printed circuits, transistors, and the whole works being embedded in plastic made those units almost as shock resistant as a proximity fuse. I put it back in my pocket, feeling that this was one of those days when it was just not worthwhile to get out of bed. I turned to the car's communicator and punched the emergency tab.
"Control," I called out. "Control! This is an emergency!"
The screen lighted up and I was looking at a young man. He was, I saw with relief, bare-skinned so far as he appeared in the screen. "Control answering?Block Fox Eleven. What are you doing in the air? I've been trying to raise you ever since you entered my block." 
"Never mind!" I snapped. "Patch me into the nearest military circuit. This is crash priority!"
He looked uncertain, but the screen flickered and went blank. Shortly another picture built up showing a military message center?and that did my heart good, as every person in sight was stripped to the waist. The foreground was occupied by a young watch officer; I could have kissed him. Instead I said, "Military emergency?patch me through to the Pentagon and there to the White House." 
"Who are you?"
"No time, no time! I'm a civil agent and you wouldn't recognize my I.D. if you saw it. Hurry!" 
I might have talked him into it but he was shouldered out of scan by an older man, a wing commander by his cap insignia. "Land at once!" was all that he said.
"Look, skipper," I said. "This is a military emergency; you've got to put me through. I?"
"This is a military emergency," he interrupted, "and all civil craft have been grounded for the past three hours. Land at once." 
"But I've got to?"
"Land or be shot down. We are tracking you; I am about to launch an interceptor to burst a half mile ahead of you. Hold your course, or make any maneuver but landing, and the next one will burst on."
"Will you listen, please? I'll land, but I've got to get?" He switched off, leaving me with my jaw pumping air.
The first burst seemed considerably short of a half mile ahead of me; I landed.
I cracked up in doing it, but without hurting myself or my passenger. I did not have long to wait. They had me flare-lighted and were swooping down on me before I had satisfied myself that the boat wouldn't move. They took me in and I met the wing commander personally. He even put my message through after his psych squad got through giving me the antidote for the sleep test. By then it was one-thirteen, zone five?and Schedule Counter Blast had been underway for exactly that hour and thirteen minutes.
The Old Man listened to a summary, grunted, then told me to shut up and see him in the morning.

XIX
If the Old Man and I had gone to the National Zoological Gardens instead of sitting around in the park, it would not have been necessary for me to go to Kansas City. The ten titans we had captured at the joint session of Congress, plus two the next day, had been entrusted to the director of the zoo to be placed on the shoulders of unlucky anthropoids?chimps and orangutans, mostly. No gorillas.
The director had had the apes locked up in the zoo's veterinary hospital. Two chimpanzees, Abelard and Heloise, were caged together; they had always been mates and there seemed to be no reason to separate them. Maybe that sums up our psychological difficulty in dealing with the titans; even the men who transplanted the slugs to the apes still thought of the result as apes, rather than as titans.
The treatment cage next to that of the two chimps was occupied by a family of tuberculous gibbons. They were not used as hosts, since they were sick, and there was no communication between cages. They were shut one from another by sliding, gasketed panels and each cage had its own air-conditioning. I've been in worse hospitals; I remember one in the Ukraine?
Anyhow, the next morning the panel had been slid back and the gibbons and the chimps were all in together. Abelard, or possibly Heloise, had found some way to pick the lock. The lock was supposed to be monkey proof, but it was not ape-cum-titan proof. Don't blame the designer of the lock.
Two chimps plus two titans plus five gibbons?the next morning there were seven apes ridden by seven titans.
This was discovered two hours before I left for Kansas City, but the Old Man had not been notified. Had he been, he would have known that Kansas City was saturated. I might have figured it out for myself. Had the Old Man known about the gibbons, Schedule Counter Blast would not have taken place.
Schedule Counter Blast was the worst wet firecracker in military history. The evolution was beautifully worked out and the drops were made simultaneously just at midnight, zone five, on over ninety-six hundred communication points?newspaper offices, block controls, relay stations, and so forth. The raiding squad were the cream of our sky-borne forces, mostly veteran non-coms, and with them, technicians to put each communication point back into service.
Whereupon the President's speech and the visual display would go out from each local station; Schedule Bare Back would take effect all through the infected territory; and the war would be over, save for minor mopping up.
Ever see a bird hurt itself by flying into a glass window? The bird is not stupid; he simply did not have all the data.
By twenty-five minutes after midnight reports started coming in that such-and-such points were secured. A little later there were calls for help from other points. By one in the morning most of the reserves had been committed but the operation was clearly going well?so well, indeed, that unit commanders were landing and were reporting from the ground.
That was the last anybody ever heard of them.
Zone Red swallowed up the task force as if it had never existed?over eleven thousand military craft, more than a hundred and sixty thousand fighting men and technicians, seventy-one group commanders and?why go on? The United States had received its worst military setback since Black Sunday. Not in numbers, for there was not a city bombed, but in selected quality.
Let me make it clear that I am not criticizing Martinez, Rexton, the General Staff, or those poor devils who made the drop. The program was properly planned, it was based on what appeared to be a true picture, and the situation called for fast action with the best we had. If Rexton had sent any but his best boys he would have earned a court martial; the Republic was at stake and he had the sense to realize it. 
But he did not know about the seven apes.
It was nearly daylight, so I understand, before Martinez and Rexton got it through their heads that the messages they had gotten back about successes were actually faked, fakes sent by their own men?our own men?but hag-ridden, possessed, and brought into the masquerade. After my report, more than an hour too late to stop the raids, the Old Man had tried to get them not to send in any more men, but they were flushed with success and anxious to make a clean sweep.
The Old Man asked the President to insist on visual checks of what was happening, but the operation was being controlled by relay through Space Station Alpha and there just aren't enough channels to parallel audio with video through a space station. Rexton had said, "They know what they are up against; quit worrying. As fast as we get local stations back in our hands, our boys will patch back into the ground relay net and you will have all the visual evidence you want." 
The Old Man had pointed out that by then it would be too late. Rexton had burst out, "Confound it, man!?I can't stop soldiers in action to have them take pictures of bare backs. Do you want a thousand men to let themselves be killed just to quiet your jitters?" 
The President had backed him up.
By early morning they had their visual evidence. Stereo stations in the Central Valley were giving out with the same old pap; Rise and Shine with Mary Sunshine, Breakfast with the Browns, and such junk. There was not a station with the President's stereocast, not one that even conceded that anything had happened. The military dispatches tapered off and stopped around four o'clock and Rexton's frantic calls were not answered. Task Force Redemption of Schedule Counter Blast ceased to exist?spurlos versenkt.
I got this not from the Old Man but from Mary. Being the President's little shadow who went in and out with him, she had a box seat. I did not get to see the Old Man until nearly eleven the next morning. He let me report without comment, and without bawling me out, which was worse.
He was about to dismiss me when I put in, "How about my prisoner? Didn't he confirm my conclusions?"
"Oh, him? Still unconscious, by the last report. They don't expect him to live. The psychotechnicians can't get anything out of him." 
"I'd like to see him."
"You stick to things you understand." 
"Well?have you got something for me to do?" 
"Not at the moment. I think you had better?No, do this: trot down to the National Zoo. You'll see some things that may put a different light on what you picked up in Kansas City." 
"Huh?"
"Look up Doctor Horace, he's the Assistant Director. Tell him I sent you."
So I went down to see the animals. I tried to find Mary, but she was tied up.
Horace was a nice little guy who looked like one of his own baboons; he turned me over to a Doctor Vargas who was a specialist in exotic biologies?the same Vargas who was on the Second Venus Expedition. He told me what had happened and I looked at the gibbons, meantime rearranging my prejudices.
"I saw the President's broadcast," he said conversationally, "weren't you the man who?I mean, weren't you the?" 
"Yes, I was 'the man who'," I agreed shortly.
"Then you can tell us a great deal about these phenomena. Your opportunities have been unique." 
"Perhaps I should be able to," I admitted slowly, "but I can't."
"Do you mean that no cases of fission reproduction took place while you were, uh, their prisoner?" 
"That's right." I thought about it and went on, "At least, I think that's right."
"Don't you know? I was given to understand that, uh, victims have full memory of their experiences?" 
"Well, they do and they don't." I tried to explain the odd detached frame of mind of a servant of the masters.
"I suppose it could happen while you sleep." 
"Maybe. Besides sleep, there is another time, or rather times, which are difficult to remember. During conference." 
"Conference?"
So I explained. His eyes lit up, "Oh, you mean 'conjugation'." 
"No, I mean 'conference'."
"We mean the same thing. Don't you see? Conjugation and fission?they reproduce at will, whenever the food supply, that is to say the supply of hosts, permits. Probably one contact for each fission; then, when the opportunity exists, fission?two fully adult daughter parasites in a matter of hours . . . or less, possibly." 
I thought it over. If that were true?and looking at the gibbons, I could not doubt it?then why had we depended on shipments at the Constitution Club? Or had we? In fact I did not know; I did what my master wanted done and saw only what came under my eyes. But why had we not saturated New Brooklyn as Kansas City had been saturated. Lack of time?
It was clear how Kansas City had been saturated. With plenty of "livestock" at hand and a space ship loaded with transit cells to draw from, the titans had reproduced to match the human population.
I am no biologist, exotic or otherwise, but I can do simple arithmetic. Assume a thousand slugs in that space ship, the one we believed to have landed near Kansas City; suppose that they could reproduce when given the opportunity every twenty-four hours. 
First day, one thousand slugs. 
Second day, two thousand. 
Third day, four thousand.
At the end of the first week, the eighth day, that is?a hundred and twenty-eight thousand slugs. 
After two weeks, more than sixteen million slugs.
But we did not know that they were limited to spawning once a day; on the contrary the gibbons proved they weren't. Nor did we know that a flying saucer could lift only a thousand transit cells; it might be ten thousand?or more?or less. Assume ten thousand as breeding stock with fission every twelve hours. In two weeks the answer comes out?
MORE THAN TWO AND A HALF TRILLION!!!!
The figure did not mean anything; it was cosmic. There aren't anything like that many people on the whole globe, not even if you counted in apes.
We were going to be knee deep in slugs?and that before long. I felt worse than I had in Kansas City.
Dr. Vargas introduced me to a Doctor McIlvaine of the Smithsonian Institution; McIlvaine was a comparative psychologist, the author, so Vargas told me, of Mars, Venus, and Earth: A Study in Motivating Purposes. Vargas seemed to expect me to be impressed but I was not as I had not read it. Anyhow, how can anyone study the motives of Martians when they were all dead before we swung down out of trees?
They started swapping trade talk not intelligible to an outsider; I continued to watch the gibbons. Presently McIlvaine asked me, "Mr. Nivens, how long does a conference last?" 
"Conjugation," Vargas corrected him.
"Conference," McIlvaine repeated. "Keep your mind on the more important aspect."
"But, Doctor," Vargas insisted, "there are parallels in terrestrial biology. In primitive reproduction, conjugation is the means of gene exchange whereby mutation is spread through the body of the?"
"You are being anthropocentric. Doctor. You do not know that this life form has genes."
Vargas turned red. "I presume you will allow me gene equivalents?" he said stiffly.
"Why should I? I repeat, sir, that you are reasoning by analogy where there is no reason to judge that analogy exists. There is one and only one characteristic common to all life forms and that is the drive to survive." 
"And to reproduce," insisted Vargas.
"Suppose the organism is immortal and has no need to reproduce?"
"But?" Vargas shrugged. "Your question is not germane; we know that they reproduce." He gestured at the apes.
"And I am suggesting," McIlvaine came back, "that this is not reproduction, but a single organism availing itself of more space, as a man might add a wing to his house. No, really. Doctor, I do not wish to be offensive, but it is possible to get so immersed in the idea of the zygote-gamete cycle that one forgets that there may be other patterns."
Vargas started out, "But throughout the entire system?"
McIlvaine cut him short. "Anthropocentric, terrocentric, solocentric?it is still a provincial approach. These creatures may be from outside the solar system entirely."
I said, "Oh, no!" I had had a sudden flash picture of the planet Titan and with it a choking sensation.
Neither one paid any attention to me. McIlvaine continued, "If you must have analogy, take the amoeba?an earlier, more basic, and much more successful life form than ours. The motivational psychology of the amoeba?"
I switched off my ears; I suppose free speech gives a man the right to talk about the 'psychology' of an amoeba, but I don't have to listen. They never did get back to asking me how long a conference takes, not that I could have told them. A conference is, well?timeless.
They did do some direct experimentation which raised my opinion of them a little. Vargas ordered brought in a baboon who was wearing a slug and had him introduced into the cage with the gibbons and the chimps. Up to then the gibbons had been acting like gibbons, grooming each other and such, except that they seemed rather quiet?and kept a sharp eye on our movements. As soon as the newcomer was dumped in they gathered in a ring facing outwards and went into direct conference, slug to slug. McIlvaine jabbed his finger excitedly at them. "You see? You see? Conference is not for reproduction, but for exchange of memory. The organism, temporarily divided, has now re-identified itself."
I could have told him the same thing without the double talk; a master who has been out of touch always gets into direct conference as soon as possible.
"Hypothesis!" Vargas snorted. "Pure hypothesis?they have no opportunity to reproduce just now. George!" He ordered the boss of the handling crew to bring in another ape.
"Little Abe?" asked the crew boss.
"No, I want one which is not supporting a parasite. Let me see?make it Old Red."
The crew boss glanced at the gibbons, looked away at once, and said, "Gripes, Doc, I'd rather you didn't pick on Old Red." 
"This won't hurt him."
"Why can't I bring in Satan? He's a mean bastard anyway."
"All right, all right! But hurry it up; you are keeping Dr. McIlvaine waiting."
So they brought in Satan, a coal black chimp. He may have been aggressive elsewhere; he was not so here. They dumped him inside, he took one look around, shrank back against the door, and began to whine. It was like watching an execution; I could not stand to look but I couldn't look away. I had had my nerves under control?a man can get used to anything; there are people who make their livings by pumping out cesspools?but the ape's hysteria was contagious. I wanted to run.
At first the hag-ridden apes did nothing; they simply stared at him like a jury. It went on that way for a long while. Satan's whines changed to low, sobbing moans and he covered his face with his hands. Presently Vargas said, "Doctor! Look!" 
"Where?" 
"Lucy?the old female. There." He pointed.
It was the matriarch of the family of consumptive gibbons. Her back was toward us; I could see that the slug thereon had humped itself together. An iridescent line ran down the center of it.
It began to split as an egg splits. In a few minutes only, the division was complete. One new slug centered itself over her spine; the other flowed down her back. She was squatting, buttocks almost to the floor; it slithered off and plopped gently on the concrete.
It crept slowly toward Satan. The ape must have peeked through his fingers, for he screamed hoarsely?and swarmed up into the top of the cage.
So help me, they sent a squad to arrest him. Four of the biggest?two gibbons, a chimp, and a baboon. They tore him loose and hauled him down and held him face down on the floor. 
The slug slithered closer.
It was a good two feet away when it grew a pseudopod?slowly, at first?a slimy stalk that weaved around like a cobra. Then it lashed out and struck the ape on the foot. The others promptly let go of him but Satan did not move.
The titan seemed to pull itself in by the extension it had formed and attached itself to Satan's foot. From there it crawled up; when it reached the base of his spine the ape stirred. Before it was settled at the top of his back Satan sat up. He shook himself and joined the others, stopping only to look us over.
Vargas and McIlvaine started talking excitedly, apparently quite unmoved otherwise. I wanted to smash something?for me, for Satan, for the whole simian race.
Vargas was insisting that nothing had been proved, while McIlvaine maintained that we were seeing something new to our concepts; an intelligent creature which was, by the fashion in which it was organized, immortal and continuous in its personal identity?or its group identity; the argument grew confused. In any case McIlvaine was theorizing that such a creature would have continuous memory of all its experiences, not just from the moment of fission, but back to its racial beginning. He described the slug as a four dimensional worm in space-time, intertwined with itself as a single organism, and the talk grew so esoteric as to be silly.
As for me, I did not know and did not care. All very interesting, no doubt, but the only way I cared about slugs was to kill them. I wanted to kill them, early and often and as many as possible.
About that uninterrupted "racial memory" idea: wouldn't it be rather cumbersome to be able to recall exactly what you did the second Wednesday in March a million years ago?

XX
For a wonder, when I got back the Old Man was available and wanted to talk. The President had left to address a secret session of the United Nations and the Old Man had not been included in the party. I wondered if he had fallen out of official favor, but I did not say so.
He had me report fully on what I had seen at the zoo and questioned me closely; he had not been down there himself. I added my opinion of Vargas and McIlvaine. "A couple of boy scouts," I complained, "comparing stamp collections. They don't realize it's serious."
The Old Man took time out before answering. "Don't sell those boys short, son," he advised me. "They are more likely to come up with the answer than are you and I."
"Humph!" I said, or something stronger. "They are more likely to let those slugs escape. Remember Graves?"
"I do remember Graves. You don't understand scientific detachment." 
"I hope I never do!" 
"You won't. But it's the ignition system of the world; without it, we're sunk. Matter of fact, they did let one escape." 
"Huh?" 
"Didn't they tell you about the elephant?" 
"What elephant? They damn near didn't tell me anything; they got interested in each other and ignored me."
"Sure that's not what's biting you? About the elephant: an ape with a rider got out, somehow. Its body was found trampled to death in the elephant house. And one of the elephants was gone."
"You mean there is an elephant loose with a slug on him?" I had a horrid vision of what that could mean?something like a tank with a cybernetic brain.
"Her," the Old Man corrected me, "it was a cow elephant. I didn't say so, anyhow. They found her over in Maryland, quietly pulling up cabbages. No parasite."
"Where did the slug get to?" Involuntarily I glanced around. The Old Man chuckled.
"Don't worry; I don't have it in here. But a duo was stolen in the adjoining village. I'd say the slug is somewhere west of the Mississippi by now." 
"Anybody missing?"
He shrugged again. "How can you tell, in a free country? At least, the titan can't hide on a human host anywhere short of Zone Red."
That seemed true; Schedule Bare Back appeared to be operating one hundred percent. That made me think of something else, something I had seen at the zoo and had not reasoned through. Whatever it was, it eluded me. The Old Man went on, "It's taken drastic action to make the bare-shoulders order stick, though. The President has had a flood of protests on moral grounds, not to mention the National Association of Men's Haberdashers."
"Huh?"
"You would think we were trying to sell their daughters down to Rio, the way some of them carry on. There was a delegation in, called themselves The Mothers of the Republic, or some such nonsense."
"The President's time is being wasted like that, at a time like this?"
"McDonough handled them. But he roped me in on it, damn his eyes." The Old Man looked pained. "We told them that they could not see the President unless they stripped absolutely naked. That stopped 'em." 
The thought that had been bothering me came to the surface. "Say, boss, you might have to." 
"'Have to what?" 
"Make people strip naked."
He chewed his lip and looked worried. "What are you driving at?"
"Do we know, as a certainty, that a slug can attach itself to its host only near the base of the brain?" 
"You should know, better than I do."
"I thought I did, but now I'm not sure. That's the way we always did it, when I was, uh, with them." I recounted again, in more detail, what I had seen when Vargas had had poor old Satan exposed to a slug. "That ape moved as soon as the thing reached the base of his spine, clear down at his tail bone. Maybe they prefer to ride up near the brain?I'm sure they do. But maybe they don't have to. Maybe they could ride down inside a man's pants and just put out an extension to the end of his spinal cord."
"Hmm . . . you'll remember, son, that the first time I had a crowd searched for one I made everybody peel clear down to the buff. That was not accidental; I wanted to be sure."
"I think you were justified. See here; they might be able to conceal themselves anywhere on the body, if they have to. Inside a pair of shorts, for example. Of course you couldn't hide anything under some shorts?" I was thinking of the skin-tight things that Mary wore. "?but take those droopy drawers you've got on. One could hide in them and it would just make you look a bit satchel fannied?a bit more, I should say." 
"Want me to take 'em off?"
"I can do better than that; I'll give you the Kansas City Clutch." My words were joking but I was not; I grabbed at the bunchiness of his pants and made sure he was clean. If he had not been, he would have contorted and gone unconscious had I clutched a parasite. He submitted to it with good grace, then gave me the same treatment.
"But we can't," he complained as he sat down, "go around slapping women on the rump. It won't do."
"You may have to," I pointed out, "or make everybody strip." 
"We'll run some experiments." 
"How?" I asked.
"You know that head-and-spine armor deal? It's not worth much, except to give a feeling of security to anybody who bothers to wear one. I'll tell Doctor Horace to take an ape, fit an armor to him so that a slug can't reach anything but his legs, say?and see what happens. Or use some other method to limit the area of attack, and vary the areas, too. We'll find out." 
"Uh, yes. But don't have him use an ape, boss." 
"Why not?" 
"Well?they're too human." 
"Damn it, bub, you can't make an omelet?" 
"?without breaking eggs. Okay, okay, but I don't have to like it. Anyhow, we'll find out."
I could see that he did not like what he was thinking. "I hope it turns out that you are wrong. Yes, sir, I surely do. It has been hard enough to get their shirts off; I'd hate like the very deuce to try to get 'em to take off their drawers as well." He looked worried. 
"Well, maybe it won't be necessary." 
"I hope not."
"By the way, we're moving back to the old nest." 
"How about the New Philadelphia hide-out?" I asked.
"We'll keep both. This war may go on a long time." 
"Speaking of such, what have you got for me now?" 
"Well, now, as I said, this is likely to prove a long war. Why don't you take some leave? Indefinite?I'll call you back when I need you."
"You always have," I pointed out. "Is Mary going on leave?" 
"What's that got to do with it?" 
"I asked you a straight question. Boss." 
"Mary is on duty, with the President."
"Why? She's done her job, and nobly. You aren't depending on her being able to smell out a slug, not if I know you. You don't need her as a guard; she's too good an agent to waste on such work."
"See here?when did you get so big that you are telling me how to use other agents? Answer that and make it good."
"Oh, skip it, skip it," I told him, my temper very much out of hand. "Let it lay that if Mary isn't taking leave, I don't want leave?and none of your business why." 
"That's a nice girl."
"Did I say she wasn't? Keep your nose out of my affairs. In the meantime, give me a job to do." 
"I say you need to take leave."
"So you can make damn sure that I don't have any free time when Mary has? What is this? A YWCA?
"I say you need leave because you are worn out." 
"Hunh!"
"You are a fair-to-good agent when you are in shape. Right now you aren't; you've been through too much. No, shut up and listen: I send you out on a simple assignment. Penetrate an occupied city, look it over and see everything there is to see and report back by a certain time. What do you do? You are so jittery that you hang around in the suburbs and are afraid to go downtown. You don't keep your eyes open and you damn near get caught three times. Then when you do head back, you get so nervy that you burn out your ship and fail to get back in time to be of any use. Your nerve is shot and your judgment with it. Take leave?sick leave, in fact."
I stood there with my ears burning. He did not directly blame me for the failure of Schedule Counter Blast but he might as well have. I felt that it was unfair?and yet I knew that there was truth in it. My nerves used to be like rock, and now my hands trembled when I tried to strike a cigarette.
Nevertheless he let me have an assignment?the first and only time I have ever won an argument with him.
A hell of an assignment?I spent the next several days lecturing to brass, answering fool questions about what titans eat for lunch, explaining how to tackle a man who was possessed. I was billed as an "expert" but half the time my pupils seemed sure that they knew more about slugs than I did.
Why do people cherish their preconceptions? Riddle me that.

XXI
Operation Parasite seemed to come to a dead stop during this period. The titans continued to hold Zone Red, but they could not break out without being spotted. And we did not try to break in for the good reason that every slug held one of our own people as hostage. It was a situation which might go on for a long time.
The United Nations were no help. The President wanted a simple act of cooperation?Schedule Bare Back on a global scale. They hemmed and hawed and sent the matter to committee for investigation. The plain truth was they did not believe us; that was always the enemy's great advantage?only the burned believed in the fire.
Some nations were safe from the slugs through their own customs. A Finn who did not strip down and climb into a steam bath, in company, every day or so would have been conspicuous. The Japanese, too, were casual about undressing. The South Seas were relatively safe, as were large parts of Africa. France had gone enthusiastically nudist, on weekends at least, right after World War III?a slug would have a tough time hiding in France.
But in countries where the body-modesty taboo meant something a slug could stay hidden until his host began to stink. The United States itself, Canada?England, most particularly England. "Aren't you getting excited over nothing, old chap? Take off my weskit? Now, really!"
They flew three slugs (with apes) to London; I understand that the King wanted to set an example as the President had, but the Prime Minister, egged on by the Archbishop of Canterbury, would not let him. The Archbishop had not even bothered to look; moral behavior was more important than mundane peril. Nothing about this appeared in the news and the story may not be true, but English skin was not exposed to the cold stares of neighbors.
The Cominform propaganda system began to blast us as soon as they had worked out a new line. The whole thing was an "American Imperialist fantasy" intended to "enslave the workers"; the "mad dogs of capitalism" were at it again.
I wondered why the titans had not attacked Russia first; Stalinism seemed tailor-made for them. On second thought, I wondered if they had. On third thought I wondered what difference it would make; the people behind the Curtain had had their minds enslaved and parasites riding them for three generations. There might not be two kopeks difference between a commissar with a slug and a commissar without a slug.
There would be one change: their intermittent purges would take a different form; a "deviationist" would be "liquidated" by plastering a titan on his neck. It wouldn't be necessary to send him to the gas chamber.
Except when the Old Man picked me to work with him I was not close to the center of things; I saw the war with the titans as a man sees hurricanes?his small piece only. I did not see the Old Man soon and I got my assignments from Oldfield, his deputy. Consequently I did not know of it when Mary was relieved from special duty with the President. I ran into her in the lounge of the Section offices. "Mary!" I yelped and fell over my feet getting to her.
She gave me that long, slow, sweet smile and moved over to make room for me. "Hello, darling!" she whispered. She did not ask me what I had been doing, nor scold me that I had not been in touch with her, nor even comment on how long it had been. Mary always let the water over the dam take care of itself.
Not me?I babbled. "This is wonderful! I thought you were still tucking the President into his beddy-bye. How long have you been here? Do you have to go back right away? Say, can I dial you a drink?no, you've got one." I started to dial for an old-fashioned and discovered that Mary had already done so; it popped out almost into my hand. "Huh? How'd this get here?" 
"I ordered it when you came in the door." 
"You did? Mary, did I tell you that you are wonderful?" 
"No." 
"Very well, then, I will: You're wonderful." 
"Thank you."
I went on, "This calls for a celebration! How long are you free? Say, couldn't you possibly get some leave? They can't expect you to be on duty twenty-four hours a day, week after week, with no time off. I think I'll go right straight to the Old Man and tell him just what?" 
"I'm on leave, Sam." 
"?just what I think of that sort of?Huh?" 
"I'm on leave now." 
"You are? For how long?" 
"Subject to call. All leaves read that way now."
"But?How long have you been on leave?" 
"Since yesterday. I've been sitting here, waiting for you to show up."
"Yesterday!" And I had spent yesterday giving more kindergarten lectures to brass hats who did not want them. "Oh, for the love of?" I stood up. "Stay right where you are. Don't move. I'll be right back." 
I rushed over to the operations office. I got in to see the chief deputy by insisting that I had a very urgent matter that he had to attend to. Oldfield looked up when I came in and said in a surly tone, "What do you want?"
"Look, chief, that series of bedtime stories I'm scheduled to tell: better cancel them." 
"Why?"
"I'm a sick man; I've been due for sick leave for a long time. Now I've just got to take it." 
"You're sick in the head, if you ask me." 
"That's right; I'm sick in the head. Sometimes I hear voices. People have been following me around. I keep dreaming I'm back with the titans." That last point was regrettably true.
"But since when has this being crazy been any handicap in this section?" He leaned back and waited for me to argue the point.
"Look?do I get leave or don't I?"
He fumbled through papers on his desk, found one and tore it up. "Okay. Keep your phone handy; you're subject to recall. Get out."
I got. Mary looked up when I came in and gave me the soft warm treatment again. I said, "Grab your things; we're leaving."
She did not ask where; she simply stood up. I snatched my drink, gulped half of it and spilled the rest. We went up and were out on the pedestrian level of the city before either one of us said anything. Then I asked, "Now?where do you want to get married?" 
"Sam, we discussed that before."
"Sure we did and now we are going to do it. Where?"
"Sam, Sam my very dear?I will do what you say. But I am bound to tell you that I am still opposed to it." 
"Why?"
"Sam, let's go straight to my apartment. I'd like to cook dinner for you."
"Okay, you can cook dinner?but not in your apartment. And we get married first." 
"Please, Sam!"
I heard somebody say, "Keep pitching, kid. She's weakening." I looked around and found that we were playing to a good-sized gallery.
I swept an arm wide, almost clipping the youngster who had given me the advice and shouted irritably, "Haven't you people got anything else to do? Go get drunk!"
Somebody else said, "I'd say he ought to take her offer; he won't get a better one."
I grabbed Mary by the arm and hurried her away from there. I did not say another word until I had gotten her into a cab and closed off the driver's compartment from the lounge. "All right," I said gruffly, "why not get married? Let's have your reasons." 
"Why get married, Sam? I'm yours; you don't need a contract."
"Why? Because I love you; that's one reason, damn it!"
She did not answer for quite a while; I thought I had offended her. When she did I could hardly hear her. "You hadn't mentioned that before, Sam." 
"Hadn't I? Oh, I must have. I'm sure I have."
"No, I'm sure, quite sure, that you haven't. Why didn't you?"
"Unh, I don't know. Just an oversight, I guess. I'm not right sure what the word 'love' means." 
"Neither am I," she said softly, "but I love to hear you say it. Say it again, please." 
"Huh? Okay. I love you. I love you, Mary." 
"Oh, Sam!"
She snuggled in against my shoulder and began to tremble. I shook her a little. "How about you?" 
"Me? Oh, I love you, Sam. I do love you. I've loved you ever since?" 
"Ever since when?"
I thought she was going to say that she had loved me ever since I took her place in Project Interview; what she said was, "I've loved you ever since you slapped me." 
Is that logic?
The driver was cruising slowly east along the Connecticut coast; I had told him just to drive around. I had to wake him up before I could get him to land us in Westport. We went straight to the City Hall.
I stepped up to a counter in the Bureau of Sanctions and Licenses and said to a clerk there, "Is this where we get married?"
"That's up to you," he answered. "Hunting licenses on the left, dog licenses on the right, this desk is the happy medium?I hope." He leered at me.
I don't like smart boys and the gag was ancient. "Very well," I said stiffly, "will you oblige by issuing us a license?"
"Sure thing. Everybody ought to get married at least once; that's what I keep telling my old lady." He got out a large printed form. "Let's have your serial numbers."
We gave them to him. He slid the form into a typer and recorded them. "Now?are either of you married in any other state?" We said that we weren't; he went on, "You're sure, now? If you are and don't tell me, so I can put a rider on this showing the other contracts, this contract ain't valid."
We told him again that we weren't married anywhere. He shrugged and went on, "Term, renewable, or lifetime? If it's over ten years, the fee is the same as for lifetime; if it's under six months, you don't need this; you get the short form from that vendo machine over there by the wall."
I looked at Mary; she said in a very small voice, "Lifetime."
The clerk looked surprised. "Lady, are you sure you know what you're doing? The renewable contract, with the automatic option clause, is just as permanent and you don't have to go through the courts if you change your mind." 
I said, "You heard the lady! Put it down." 
"Okay, okay?either party, mutual consent, or binding?" 
"Binding," I answered and Mary nodded.
"Binding it is," he agreed, stroking the typer. "Now we come to the meat of the matter: who pays and how much? And is it salary or endowment?"
I said, "Salary"; I didn't own enough to set up a fund.
At the same time and in a firm voice Mary said, "Neither." 
The clerk said, "Huh?"
"Neither one," Mary repeated. "This is not a financial contract."
The clerk stopped completely, looked at me, and then looked at Mary. "Now, look, lady," he said reasonably, "don't be foolish. You heard the gentleman say that he was willing to do the right thing."
"No."
"Hadn't you better talk it over with your lawyer before you go ahead with this? There's a public communicator out in the hall." 
"No!"
"Well?I'm darned if I see what you need a license for." 
"Neither do I," Mary told him. 
"You mean you don't want this?" 
"No! Put it down the way I told you to. 'No salary'." 
The clerk looked helpless but bent over the typer again. "I guess that's all we need," he said finally. "You've kept it simple, I'll say that for you. 'Do-you both-solemnly-swear-that-the-above-facts-are-true-to-the-best-of-your-knowledge-and-belief-that-you-aren't-entering-into-this-agreement-uninfluenced-by-drugs-or-other-illegal-inducements-and-that-there-exists-no-other-covenants-nor-other-legal-impediments-to-the-execution-and-registration-of-the-above-contract?' "
We both said that we did and we were and it was and there weren't. He pulled the form out of the typer. "Let's have your thumb prints . . . okay; that'll be ten dollars, including the federal tax." I paid him and he shoved the form into the copier and threw the switch. "Copies will be mailed to each of you," he announced, "at your serial-number addresses. Now?what type of ceremony are you looking for? Maybe I can be of help."
"We don't want a religious ceremony," Mary told him and I agreed.
He nodded. "Then I've got just what you're looking for. Old Doctor Chamleigh. He's completely non-sectarian, best stereo accompaniment in town, all four walls and full orchestra. He gives you the whole works, fertility rites and everything, but dignified. And he tops it off with a fatherly straight-from-the-shoulder word of advice. Makes you feel married." 
"No." This time I said it.
"Oh, come, now!" the clerk said to me. "Think of the little lady. If she sticks by what she just swore to?and I'm not saying she won't?she'll never have another chance. Every girl is entitled to a formal wedding. Honest?I don't get much of a commission out of it."
I said, "See here, you can marry us, can't you? Go ahead. Get it over with!"
He looked surprised and said, "Didn't you know? In this state you marry yourself. You've been married, ever since you thumb-printed the license." 
I said, "Oh?" Mary didn't say anything. We left.
I hired a duo at the landing flat north of town; the heap was ten years old and smelled of it but it had full-automatic and that was all that really mattered. I looped around the city, cut across Manhattan Crater, and set the controls. We didn't talk much; there didn't seem to be much to say just yet. I was happy but terribly nervous?and then Mary put her arms around me and after a bit I wasn't nervous any longer but happier than ever. After a long time that seemed short I heard the BEEEEP! beep-beep BEEEEP! of the beacon at my shack in the mountains, whereupon I unwound myself, took over manual, and landed. Mary said sleepily, "Where are we?" 
"At my cabin in the mountains," I told her.
"I didn't know you had a cabin in the mountains. I thought you were headed for my apartment." 
"What, and risk those bear traps? Anyhow, it's not mine; it's ours."
She kissed me again and I loused up the landing. She slid out ahead of me while I was securing the board, then I followed and found her staring at my shack. "Sweetheart, it's beautiful!"
"You can't beat the Adirondacks," I agreed. There was a slight haze with the sun low in the west, giving that wonderful, depth upon depth, stereo look that you never get anywhere else. "I picked this place for the view."
She glanced at it and said, "Yes, yes?but I didn't mean that. I meant your?our cabin. Let's go inside, right now."
"Suits," I agreed, "but it's really just a simple shack." Which it was?not even an indoor pool. I had kept it that way on purpose; when I came up here I didn't want to feel that I had brought the city with me. The shell was conventional steel-and-fiberglass construction but I had had it veneered in duroslabs which could not be told from real logs unless you took a knife to them. The inside was just as simple?a big living room with a real, wood-burning fireplace, deep plain-colored rugs, and plenty of low chairs. The services were all in a Kompacto special, the shell of which was buried under the foundation?air-conditioner, power pack, cleansing system, sound equipment, plumbing, radiation alarm, servos?everything but the deep-freeze and the other kitchen equipment, out of sight and out of mind. Even the stereo screens were covered up and would not be noticed unless in use. It was about as near as a man could get to a real log cabin and still have inside plumbing.
"I think it's just lovely," Mary said seriously. "I wouldn't want to have an ostentatious place." 
"You and me both." I worked the combo and the front door dilated; Mary was inside at once. "Hey! Come back here!" I yelled.
She did so. "What's the matter, Sam? Did I do something wrong?"
"You sure did." I dragged her back to me, then swung her up in my arms and carried her across the threshold. I kissed her as I put her down. "There. Now you are in your own house, properly."
The lights had come on as we entered the house. She looked around her, then turned and threw her arms around my neck. "Oh, darling, darling! I can't see?my eyes are all blurry."
Mine were blurry, too, so we took time out for mutual treatment. Then she started wandering around, touching things. "Sam, if I had planned it all myself, it would have been just this way."
"It hasn't but one bathroom," I apologized. "We'll have to rough it a bit."
"I don't mind. In fact I'm glad; now I know you didn't bring any of those women of yours up here." 
"What women?"
"You know darn well what women. If you had been planning this as a nest, you would have included a woman's bathroom." 
"You know too much."
She did not answer but wandered on out into the kitchen. I heard her squeal. "What's the matter?" I asked, following her out.
"I never expected to find a real kitchen in a bachelor's lodge."
"I'm not a bad cook myself. I wanted a kitchen so I bought one."
"I'm so glad. Now I will cook you dinner." 
"It's your kitchen; suit yourself. But don't you want to wash up? You can have first crack at the shower if you want it. And tomorrow we'll get a catalog and you can pick out a bathroom of your own. We'll have it flown in."
"No hurry," she said. "You take the first shower. I want to start dinner."
So I did. I guess she did not have any trouble figuring out the controls and filing system in the kitchen, for about fifteen minutes later while I was whistling away in the shower, letting the hot water soak in, I heard a tap on the shower door. I looked through the translucent panel and saw Mary silhouetted there. 
"May I come in?" she called out.
"Sure, sure!" I said, "Plenty of room." I opened the door and looked at her. She looked good. For a moment she stood there, letting me look but with a sweet shyness on her face that I had never seen before.
I put on an expression of utter surprise and said, "Honey! What's the matter? Are you sick?" 
She looked startled out of her wits and said, "Me? What do you mean?" 
"There's not a gun on you anywhere."
She giggled and came at me. "Idiot!" she squealed and started to tickle me. I got her left arm in a bonebreaker but she countered with one of the nastiest judo tricks that ever came out of Japan. Fortunately I knew the answer to it and then we were both on the bottom of the shower and she was yelling, "Let me up! You're getting my hair all wet."
"Does it matter?" I asked, not moving. I liked it there.
"I guess not," she answered softly and kissed me. So I let her up and we rubbed each other's bruises and giggled. It was quite the nicest shower I have ever had.
Mary and I slipped into domesticity as if we had been married for twenty years. Oh, not that our honeymoon was humdrum, far from it, nor that there weren't a thousand things we still had to learn about each other?the point was that we already seemed to know the necessary things about each other that made us married. Especially Mary.
I don't remember those days too clearly, yet I remember every second of them. I went around feeling gay and a bit confused. My Uncle Egbert used to achieve much the same effect with a jug of corn liquor, but we did not even take tempus pills, not then. I was happy; I had forgotten what it was like to be happy, had not known that I was not happy. Interested, I used to be?yes. Diverted, entertained, amused?but not happy.
We did not turn on a stereo, we did not read a book?except that Mary read aloud some Oz books that I had. Priceless items, they were, left to me by my great-grandfather; she had never seen any. But that did not take us back into the world; it took us farther out.
The second day we did go down to the village; I wanted to show Mary off. Down there they think I am a writer and I encourage the notion, so I stopped to buy a couple of tubes and a condenser for my typer and a roll of copy tape, though I certainly had no intention of doing any writing, not this trip. I got to talking with the storekeeper about the slugs and Schedule Bare Back?sticking to my public persona of course. There had been a local false alarm and a native in the next town had been shot by a trigger-happy constable for absent-mindedly showing up in public in a shirt. The storekeeper was indignant. I suggested that it was his own fault; these were war conditions.
He shook his head. "The way I see it we would have had no trouble at all if we had tended to our own business. The Lord never intended men to go out into space. We should junk the space stations and stay home; then we would be all right."
I pointed out that the slugs came here in their own ships; we did not go after them?and got a warning signal from Mary not to talk too much.
The storekeeper placed both hands on the counter and leaned toward me. "We had no trouble before space travel; you'll grant that?" 
I conceded the point. "Well?" he said triumphantly. 
I shut up. How can you argue?
We did not go into town after that and saw no one and spoke to no one. On the way home (we were on foot) we passed close to the shack of John the Goat, our local hermit. Some say that John used to keep goats; I know he smelled like one. He did what little caretaking I required and we respected each other, that is, we saw each other only when strictly necessary and then as briefly as possible. But, seeing him, I waved.
He waved back. He was dressed as usual, stocking cap, an old army blouse, shorts, and sandals. I thought of warning him that a man had been shot nearby for not complying with the bare-to-the-waist order, but decided against it. John was the perfect anarchist; advice would have made him only more stubborn. Instead I cupped my hands and shouted, "Send up the Pirate!" He waved again and we went on without coming within two hundred feet of him, which was about right unless he was downwind.
"Who's the Pirate, darling?" Mary asked. 
"You'll see."
Which she did; as soon as we got back the Pirate came in, for I had his little door keyed to his own meow so that he could let himself in and out?the Pirate being a large and rakish tom cat, half red Persian and half travelling salesman. He came in strutting, told me what he thought of people who stayed away so long, then headbumped my ankle in forgiveness. I reached down and roughed him up, then he inspected Mary.
I was watching Mary. She had dropped to her knees and was making the sounds used by people who understand cat protocol, but the Pirate was looking her over suspiciously. Suddenly he jumped into her arms and commenced to buzz like a faulty fuel meter, while bumping her under the chin.
I sighed loudly. "That's a relief," I announced. "For a moment I didn't think I was going to be allowed to keep you."
Mary looked up and smiled. "You need not have worried; I get along with cats. I'm two-thirds cat myself." 
"What's the other third?"
She made a face at me. "You'll find out." She was scratching the Pirate under the chin; he was stretching his neck and accepting it, with an expression of indecent and lascivious pleasure. I noticed that her hair just matched his fur.
"Old John takes care of him while I'm away," I explained, "but the Pirate belongs to me?or vice versa."
"I figured that out," Mary answered, "and now I belong to the Pirate, too; don't I, Pirate?" 
The cat did not answer but continued his shameless lallygagging?but it was clear that she was right. Truthfully I was relieved; aelurophobes cannot understand why cats matter to aelurophiles, but if Mary had turned out not to be one of the lodge it would have fretted me.
From then on the cat was with us?or with Mary?almost all the time, except when I shut him out of our bedroom. That I would not stand for, though both Mary and the Pirate thought it small of me. We even took him with us when we went down the canyon for target practice. I suggested to Mary that it was safer to leave him behind but she said, "See to it that you don't shoot him. I won't."
I shut up, somewhat stung. I am a good shot and remain so by unrelenting practice at every opportunity?even on my honeymoon. No, that's not quite straight; I would have skipped practice on that occasion had it not turned out that Mary really liked to shoot. Mary is not just a good trained shot; she is the real thing, an Annie Oakley. She tried to teach me, but it can't be taught, not that sort of shooting.
I asked why she carried more than one gun. "You might need more than one," she told me. "Here?take my gun away from me."
I went through the motions of a standing, face-to-face disarm, bare hands against gun. She avoided it easily and said sharply, "What are you doing? Disarming me, or asking me to dance? Make it good." 
So I made it good. I'll never be a match-medal shot but I stood at the top of my class in barroom. If she had not given in to it, I would have broken her wrist.
I had her gun. Then I realized that a second gun was pressing against my belly button. It was a lady's social gun, but perfectly capable of making two dozen widows without recharging. I looked down, saw that the safety was off, and knew that my beautiful bride had only to tense one muscle to burn a hole through me. Not a wide one, but sufficient.
"Where in the deuce did you find that?" I asked?and well I might, for neither one of us had bothered to dress when we came out. The area was very deserted and often it did not seem worthwhile to take the trouble; it was my land.
So I was much surprised as I would have sworn that the only gun Mary had with her was the one she had carried in her sweet little hand.
"It was high up on my neck, under my hair," she said demurely. "See?" I looked. I knew a phone could be hidden there but I had not thought of it for a gun?though of course I don't use a lady-size weapon and I don't wear my hair in long flame-colored curls.
Then I looked again, for she had a third gun shoved against my ribs. "Where did that one come from?" I asked.
She giggled. "Sheer misdirection; it's been in plain sight all the time." She would not tell me anything further and I never did figure it out. She should have clanked when she walked?but she did not. Oh my, no!
I found I could teach her a few things about hand-to-hand, which salved my pride. Bare hands are more useful than guns anyhow; they will save your life oftener. Not that Mary was not good at it herself; she packed sudden death in each hand and eternal sleep in her feet. However, she had the habit, whenever she lost a fall, of going limp and kissing me. Once, instead of kissing her back, I shook her and told her she was not taking it seriously. Instead of cutting out the nonsense, she continued to remain limp, let her voice go an octave lower, and said, "Don't you realize, my darling, that these are not my weapons?"
I knew that she did not mean that guns were her weapons; she meant something older and more primitive. True, she could fight like a bad-tempered Kodiak bear and I respected her for it, but she was no Amazon. An Amazon doesn't look that way with her head on a pillow. Mary's true strength lay in her other talents.
Which reminds me; from her I learned how it was that I was rescued from the slugs. Mary herself had prowled the city for days, not finding me, but reporting accurately the progress with which the city was being "secured". Had she not been able to spot a possessed man, we might have lost many agents fruitlessly?and I might never have gotten free from my master. As a result of the data she brought in, the Old Man drew back and concentrated on the entrances and exits to the city. And I was rescued, though they weren't waiting for me in particular . . . at least I don't suppose they were.
Or maybe they were. Something Mary said led me to think that the Old Man and she had worked watch on and watch off, heel-and-toe, covering the city's main launching platform, once it was evident that there was a focal point active in the city. But that could not have been correct?the Old Man would not have neglected his job to search for one agent. I must have misunderstood her.
I never got a chance to pursue the subject; Mary did not like digging into the past. I asked her once why the Old Man had relieved her as a presidential guard. She said, "I stopped being useful at it," and would not elaborate. She knew that I eventually would learn the reason: that the slugs had found out about sex, thus rendering her no longer useful as a touchstone for possessed males. But I did not know it then; she found the subject repulsive and refused to talk about it. Mary spent less time borrowing trouble than anyone I ever knew.
So little that I almost forgot, during that holiday from the world, what it was we were up against.
Although she would not talk about herself, she let me talk about myself. As I grew still more relaxed and still happier I tried to explain what had been eating me all my life. I told her about resigning from the service and the knocking around I had done before I swallowed my pride and went to work for the Old Man. "I'm a peaceable guy," I told her, "but what's the matter with me? The Old Man is the only one I've ever been able to subordinate myself to?and I still fight with him. Why, Mary? Is there something wrong with me?"
I had my head in her lap; she picked it up and kissed me. "Heavens, boy, don't you know? There's nothing really wrong with you; it's what has been done to you." 
"But I've always been that way?until now." 
"I know, ever since you were a child. No mother and an arrogantly brilliant father?you've been slapped around so much that you have no confidence in yourself."
Her answer surprised me so much that I reared up. Me? No confidence in myself? "Huh?" I said. "How can you say that? I'm the cockiest rooster in the yard." 
"Yes. Or you used to be. Things will be better now." And there's where it stood for she took advantage of my change in position to stand up and say, "Let's go look at the sunset."
"Sunset?" I answered. "Can't be?we just finished breakfast." But she was right and I was wrong, a common occurrence.
The mix-up about the time of day jerked me back to reality. "Mary, how long have we been up here? What's the date?" 
"Does it matter?"
"You're dam right it matters. It's been more than a week. I'm sure. One of these days our phones will start screaming and then it's back to the treadmill." 
"In the meantime what difference does it make?" 
She was right but I still wanted to know what day it was. I could have found out by switching on a stereo screen, but I would probably have bumped into a newscast?and I did not want that; I was still pretending that Mary and I were away in a different world, a safe world, where titans did not exist. "Mary," I said fretfully, "how many tempus pills have you?" 
"None." 
"Well?I've got enough for both of us. Let's stretch it out, make it last a long time. Suppose we have just twenty-four more hours; we could fine it down into a month, subjective time." 
"No."
"Why not? Let's carpe that old diem before it gets away from us."
She put a hand on my arm and looked up into my eyes. "No, darling, it's not for me. I must live each moment as it comes and not let it be spoiled by worrying about the moment ahead." I suppose I looked stubborn for she went on, "If you want to take them, I won't mind, but please don't ask me to."
"Confound it. I'm not going on a joy ride alone." She did not answer, which is the damnedest way of winning an argument I know of.
Not that we argued. If I tried to start one?which I did, more than once?Mary would give in and somehow it would work out that I was mistaken. I did try several times to find out more about her; it seemed to me that I ought to know something about the woman I was married to. To one question she looked thoughtful and answered presently, "I sometimes wonder whether I ever did have a childhood?or was it something I dreamed last night?"
I asked her point blank what her name was. "Mary," she said tranquilly.
"Mary really is your name, then?" I had long since told her my right name, but we had agreed to go on using "Sam".
"Certainly it's my name, dear. I've been 'Mary' since you first called me that."
"Oh. All right, your name is Mary. You are my beloved Mary. But what was your name before?" 
Her eyes held an odd, hurt look, but she answered steadily, "I was once known as 'Allucquere'."
"'Allucquere'," I repeated, savoring it. "Allucquere. What a strange and beautiful name. Allucquere. It has a rolling majesty about it. My darling Allucquere."
"My name is Mary, now." And that was that. Somewhere, somewhen, I was becoming convinced, Mary had been hurt, badly hurt. But it seemed unlikely that I was ever going to know about it. She had been married before, I was fairly certain; perhaps that was it.
Presently I ceased to worry about it. She was what she was, now and forever, and I was content to bask in the warm light of her presence. "Age cannot wither her nor custom stale her infinite variety."
I went on calling her "Mary" since she obviously preferred it and that was how I thought of her anyhow, but the name that she had once had kept running through my mind. Allucquere . . . Allucquere . . . I rolled it around my tongue and wondered how it was spelled.
Then suddenly I knew how it was spelled. My pesky packrat memory had turned up the right tab and now was pawing away at the shelves in the back of my mind where I keep the useless junk that I don't think about for years on end and am helpless to get rid of. There had been a community, a colony that used an artificial language, even to given names?
The Whitmanites, that was it?the anarchist-pacifist cult that got kicked out of Canada, then failed to make a go of it in Little America. There was a book, written by their prophet. The Entropy of Joy?I had not read it but I had skimmed it once; it was full of pseudomathematical formulas for achieving happiness.
Everybody is for "happiness", just as they are against "sin", but the cult's practices kept getting them in hot water. They had a curious and yet very ancient solution to their sexual problems, a solution which appeared to suit them but which produced explosive results when the Whitmanite culture touched any other pattern of behavior. Even Little America had not been far enough away for them; I had heard somewhere that the remnants had emigrated to Venus?in which case they must all be dead by now.
I put it out of my mind. If Mary were a Whitmanite, or had been reared that way, that was her business. I certainly was not going to let the cult's philosophy cause us a crisis now or ever; marriage is not ownership and wives are not property.
If that were all there was to what Mary did not want me to know about her, then I simply would not know it. I had not been looking for virginity wrapped in a sealed package; I had been looking for Mary.

XXII
The next time I mentioned tempos pills, she did not argue but suggested that we hold it down to a minimum dose. It was a fair compromise?and we could always take more.
I prepared it as injections so that it would take hold faster. Ordinarily I watch a clock after I've taken tempus; when the second hand stops I know that I'm loaded. But my shack has no clocks and neither of us was wearing ringwatches. It was just sunrise and we had been awake all night, cuddled upon a big low half-moon couch in front of the fireplace.
We continued to lie there for a long time, feeling good and dreamy, and I was half considering the idea that the drug had not worked. Then I realized that the sun had stopped rising. I watched a bird fluttering past the view window. If I stared at him long enough, I could see his wings move.
I looked back from it to my wife, admired the long sweep of her limbs and the sudden, rising curves. The Pirate was curled up on her stomach, a cubical cat, with his paws tucked in as a muff. Both of them seemed asleep. "How about some breakfast?" I said, "I'm starved."
"You fix it," she answered. "If I move, I'll disturb Pirate."
"You promised to love, honor, and fix me breakfast," I replied and tickled the soles of her feet. She gasped and drew up her legs; the cat squawked and landed on the floor.
"Oh dear!" she said, sitting up. "You made me move too fast and now I've offended him." 
"Never mind the cat, woman; you're married to me." But I knew that I had made a mistake. In the presence of others, people not under the drug, one should move with great care. I simply hadn't thought about the cat; no doubt he thought we were behaving like drunken jumping jacks. I intentionally slowed down and tried to woo him.
No use?he was streaking toward his door. I could have stopped him, for to me his movement was a molasses crawl, but had I done so I would simply have frightened him more. I let him go and went to the kitchen.
Do you know, Mary was right; tempus fugit drug is no good for honeymoons. The ecstatic happiness that I had felt before was masked by the euphoria of the drug, though I did not feel the loss at the time because the drug's euphoria is compelling. But the loss was real; I had substituted for the true magic a chemical fake.
And there are some precious things which cannot or should not be hurried. Mary was right, as usual. Nevertheless it was a good day?or month, however you care to look at it. But I wished that I had stuck to the real thing.
Late that evening we came out of it. I felt the slight irritability which marks the loosening hold of the drug, found my ringwatch and timed my reflexes. When they were back to normal I timed Mary's, whereupon she informed me that she had been out of it for twenty minutes or so?pretty accurate matching of dosage to have been based on body weights alone. 
"Do you want to go under again?" she asked me.
I pulled her to me and kissed her. "No; frankly, I'm glad to be back." 
"I'm so glad."
I had the usual ravenous appetite that one has afterward no matter how many times one eats while under; I mentioned it. "In a minute," she said. "I want to call Pirate. He has not been in all day."
I had not missed him during the day?or "month"?just past; the euphoria is like that. "Don't worry about it," I told her. "He often stays out all day." 
"He has not before." 
"He has with me," I answered. 
"I think I offended him?I know I did." 
"Then he is probably down at Old John's. That is his usual way of punishing me when he does not like the service. He'll be all right."
"But it's late at night?I'm afraid a coyote might get him." 
"Don't be silly; there are no coyotes this far east." 
"A fox, then?or something. Do you mind, darling? I'll just step out and call him." She headed for the door.
"Put on something, then," I ordered. "It will be nippy out there."
She hesitated, then went back to the bedroom and got a negligee I had bought for her the day we had gone down to the village. She went out; I put more wood on the fire and went into the kitchen.
She must have left the door dilated for, while I was trying to make up my mind between convenience of a "Soup-to-Nuts" and the pleasure of planning a meal from separate units, I heard her saying, "Bad, bad cat! You worried mama," in that cooing voice suitable for babies and felines.
I called out, "Fetch him in and close the door?and mind the penguins!" She did not answer and I did not hear the door relax, so I went back into the living room.
She was just coming in and did not have the cat with her. I started to speak and then caught sight of her eyes. They were staring, filled with unspeakable horror. I said, "Mary!" and started toward her.
She seemed to see me and turned back toward the door; her movements were jerky, spasmodic. As she turned I saw her shoulders. 
Under the negligee was a hump.
I don't know how long I stood there. Probably a split second but it is burned into me as endless. I jumped toward her and grabbed her by the arms. She looked at me and her eyes were no longer wells of horror but merely dead. 
She gave me the knee.
I squeezed and managed to avoid the worst of it. Look?I know you don't tackle a dangerous opponent by grabbing his upper arms, but this was my wife. I couldn't come at Mary with a feint-shift-and-kill.
But the slug had no compunctions about me. Mary?or it?was giving me everything she had and I had all I could do to keep from killing her. I had to keep her from killing me?and I had to kill the slug?and I had to keep the slug from getting at me or I would not be able to save her.
I let go with one hand and jabbed at her chin. The blow should have knocked her out but it did not even slow her down. I grabbed again, with both arms and legs, trying to encase her in a bear hug to immobilize her without injuring her. We went down together, Mary on top. I shoved the top of my head into her face to stop her biting me.
I held her so, curbing her strong body by sheer bulk of muscle. Then I tried to paralyze her with nerve pressure, but she knew what I was up to, knew the key spots as well as I did?and I was lucky that I was not myself paralyzed.
There was one thing left that I could do: clutch the slug itself?but I knew the shattering effect that had on the host. It might not kill her; again it might. It was sure to hurt her horribly. I wanted to make her unconscious, then remove the slug gently before I killed it . . . drive it off with heat or force it to turn loose with mild shocks.
Drive it off with heat?
But I was given no time to develop the idea; she got her teeth in my ear. I shifted my right arm and grabbed at the slug. Nothing happened. Instead of sinking my fingers into a slimy mess I found that this slug had a horny, leathery covering; it was as if I had clutched a football. Mary jerked when I touched it and took away part of my ear, but there was no bone-crushing spasm; the slug was still alive and in control of her.
I tried to get my fingers under it, to pry it loose; it clung like a suction cup. My fingers would not go under.
In the meantime I was suffering damages in other places. I rolled over and got to my knees, still hugging her. I had to let her legs free and that was bad, but I bent her across a knee and then struggled to my feet. I dragged and carried her to the fireplace.
She knew what I was doing and almost got away from me; it was like trying to wrestle a mountain lion. But I got her there, grabbed her by her mop of hair and slowly forced her shoulders over the fire.
I meant?I swear that I meant only to singe it, force it to drop off to escape that heat. But she struggled so hard that I slipped, banging my own head against the arch of the opening and dropping her shoulders against the coals.
She screamed and bounded out of the fire, carrying me with her. I struggled to my feet, still dazed by the wallop I had taken in the head, and saw her collapsed on the floor. Her hair, her beautiful hair, was burning.
So was her negligee. I slapped at them both with my hands. The slug was no longer on her. Still crushing the flames with my hands I glanced around and saw it lying on the floor in front of the fireplace?and the Pirate was sniffing at it.
"Get away from there!" I yelled. "Pirate! Stop that!" The cat looked up inquiringly, as if this were some new and interesting game. I went on doing what I had to do, making absolutely certain that the fire was out, both hair and clothing. When I was sure, I left her; there was not even time to make certain that she was still alive. There was something more urgent to do.
What I wanted was the fireplace shovel; I did not dare risk touching the thing with my hands. I turned to get the shovel.
But the slug was no longer on the floor; it had gotten Pirate. The cat was standing rigid, feet wide apart, and the slug was settling into place.
Perhaps it would have been better had I been a few seconds later; perhaps the slug, mounted on the cat, would have escaped outdoors. I would not have pursued it into the dark. I don't think I would have. But I dived at Pirate and got him by his hind legs just as he made his first controlled movement.
Handling a frenzied, full-grown cat with bare hands is reckless at best; controlling one which is already controlled by a titan is impossible. Hands and arms being slashed by claws and teeth at every step, I hurried again to the fireplace.
This time I made sure. Despite Pirate's wails and struggles I forced the slug against the coals and held it there, cat fur and my hands alike burning, until the slug dropped off directly into the flames. Then I took Pirate out and laid him on the floor. He was no longer struggling. I did for him what I had done for Mary, made sure that he was no longer burning anywhere and went back to Mary.
She was still unconscious. I squatted down beside her and sobbed.
An hour later I had done what I could for Mary. Her hair was almost gone from the left side of her head and there were burns on her shoulders and neck. But her pulse was strong, her respiration steady though fast and light, and I did not judge that she would lose much body fluid. I dressed her burns?I keep a rather full stock out there in the country?and gave her an injection to make her sleep. Then I had time for Pirate.
He was still on the floor where I had left him and he did not look good. He had gotten it much worse than Mary and probably flame in his lungs as well. I thought he was dead, but he lifted his head when I touched him. "I'm sorry, old fellow," I whispered. I think I heard him mew.
I did for him what I had done for Mary, except that I was afraid to give him a soporific. After that I went into the bathroom and looked myself over.
The ear had stopped bleeding and I decided to ignore it, for the time being. Someday, when I had time, it would need to be rebuilt. My hands were what bothered me. I stuck them under hot water and yelped, then dried them in the air blast and that hurt, too. I could not figure out how I could dress them, and, besides, I needed to use them.
Finally I dumped about an ounce of the jelly for burns into each of a pair of plastic gloves and put them on. The stuff included a local anesthetic; I could get by. Then I went to the stereophone and called the village medical man. I explained to him carefully and correctly what had happened and what I had done about it and asked him to come at once. 
"At night?" he said. "You must be joking." 
I said that I decidedly was not joking.
He answered, "Don't ask the impossible, man. Yours makes the fourth alarm in this county; nobody goes out at night. You've done everything that can be done tonight; I'll stop in and see your wife first thing in the morning."
I told him to go straight to the devil first thing in the morning and switched off.
Pirate died a little after midnight. I buried him at once so that Mary would not see him. Digging hurt my hands but he did not take a very big hole. I said goodbye to him and came back in. Mary was resting quietly; I brought a chair to the bed and watched over her. Probably I dozed from time to time; I can't be sure.

XXIII
About dawn Mary began to struggle and moan. I stepped to the bed and put a hand on her. "There, baby, there?It's all right. Sam's here."
Her eyes opened and for a moment held the same horror they had held when she was first possessed. Then she saw me and relaxed. "Sam! Oh, darling, I've had the most terrible dream." 
"It's all right," I repeated.
"Why are you wearing gloves?" She became aware of her own dressings; she looked dismayed and said, "It wasn't a dream!"
"No, dearest, it wasn't a dream. But it's all right; I killed it." 
"You killed it? You're sure it's dead?"
"Quite sure." The house still reeked with the stench of its dying.
"Oh. Come here, Sam. Hold me tight." 
"I'll hurt your shoulders."
"Hold me!" So I did, while trying to be careful of her burns, although she seemed indifferent to them. Presently her trembling slowed down and stopped almost completely. "Forgive me, darling?I'm being weak and womanish."
"You should have seen the shape I was in when they got me back."
"I did see. Now tell me what happened; I must know. The last I remember you were trying to force me into the fireplace."
"Look. Mary, I couldn't help it; I had to?I couldn't get it off!"
She shook my shoulders and now it was she comforting me. "I know, darling, I know?and thank you for doing it! Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Again I owe you everything."
We both cried a bit and presently I blew my nose and went on, "You did not answer when I called you, so I went into the living room and there you were." 
"I remember?oh darling, I tried so hard!" 
I stared at her. "I know you did?you tried to leave. But how did you? Once a slug gets you, that's it. There's no way to fight it."
"Well, I lost?but I tried." There was no answer to the mystery. Somehow, Mary had forced her will against that of a parasite?and that can't be done. I know. True, she had succumbed, but I knew then that I was married to a human who was tougher and stronger than I was, despite her lovely curves and her complete femininity.
I had a sneaking hunch that had Mary not been able to resist the slug by some amount, however slight, I would have lost the struggle, handicapped as I was by what I could not do.
"I should have used a light, Sam," she went on, "but it never occurred to me to be afraid here." I nodded; this was the safe place, like crawling into bed or into sheltering arms. "Pirate came to me at once. I didn't see the thing until I had reached down and touched him. Then it was too late." She sat up, supporting herself on one arm. "Where is he, Sam? Is he all right? Call him in."
So I had to tell her about Pirate. She listened without expression, nodded and never referred to him again. I changed the subject by saying, "Now that you are awake I had better fix you some breakfast." 
"Don't go!" I stopped. "Don't go out of my sight at all," she went on, "Not for any reason. I'll get up in a moment and get breakfast."
"The hell you will. You'll stay right in that bed, like a good little girl."
"Come here and take off those gloves. I want to see your hands." I did not take them off?could not bear to think about it; the anesthesia had worn off. She nodded and said grimly, "Just as I thought. You were burned worse than I was."
So she got breakfast. Furthermore she ate?I wanted nothing but a pot of coffee. I did insist that she drink a lot, too; large area burns are no joke. Presently she pushed aside her plate, looked at me and said, "Darling, I'm not sorry it happened. Now I know. Now we've both been there." I nodded humbly, knowing what she meant. Sharing happiness is not enough. She stood up and said, "Now we must go." 
"Yes," I agreed, "now we must go. I want to get you to a doctor as soon as possible." 
"I did not mean that."
"I know you didn't." There was no need to discuss it further; we both knew that the music had stopped and that now was time to go back to work. The heap we had arrived in was still sitting on my landing flat, piling up rental charges. It took about three minutes to burn the dishes, switch off everything but the permanent circuits, and get ready. I could not find my shoes but Mary remembered where I had left them.
Mary drove, because of my hands. Once in the air she turned to me and said, "Let's go straight to the Section offices. We'll get treatment there and find out what has been going on?or are your hands hurting too badly?"
"Suits," I agreed. My hands were hurting but they would not be any worse for another hour of waiting. I wanted to learn the situation as soon as possible?and I wanted to get back to work. I asked Mary to switch on the squawk screen; I was as anxious to catch a newscast now as I had been anxious to avoid them before. But the car's communication equipment was as junky as the rest of it; we could not even pick up audio. Fortunately the remote-control circuits were still okay, or Mary would have had to buck it through traffic by hand.
A thought had been fretting me for some time; I mentioned it to Mary. "A slug would not mount a cat just for the hell of it, would it?" 
"I suppose not."
"But why? It doesn't make sense. But it has to make sense; everything they do makes sense, grisly sense, from their viewpoint."
"But it did make sense. They caught a human that way."
"Yes, I know. But how could they plan it? Surely there aren't enough of them that they can afford to place themselves on cats on the off chance that the cat might catch a human. Or are there enough?" I remembered the speed with which a slug on an ape's back had turned itself into two, I remembered Kansas City, saturated, and shivered.
"Why ask me, darling? I don't have an analytical brain." Which was true, in a way; there is nothing wrong with Mary's brain but she jumps logic and arrives at her answers by instinct. Me, I have to worry it out by logic.
"Drop the modest little girl act and try this on for size: the first question is, 'Where did the slug come from?' It didn't walk; it had to get to the Pirate on the back of another host. What host? I'd say it was Old John?John the Goat. I doubt if Pirate would have let any other human get close to him."
"Old John?" Mary closed her eyes, then opened them. "I can't get any feeling about it. I was never close to him."
"It does not matter; by elimination I think it must be true. Old John wore a coat when everyone else was complying with the Bare Back order . . . getting away with it because he shuns people. Ergo, he was hag-ridden before Schedule Bare Back. But that does not get me any further. Why would a slug single out a hermit way up in the mountains?" 
"To capture you." 
"Me?" 
"To recapture you."
It made some sense. Possibly any host that ever escaped them was a marked man; in that case the dozen-odd Congressmen and any others we had rescued?including Mary?were in special danger. I'd mark that down to report for analysis. No, not Mary?the only slug that knew she had been possessed was dead.
On the other hand they might want me in particular. What was special about me? I was a secret agent. More important, the slug that had ridden me must have known what I knew about the Old Man and known that I had access to him. That would be reason enough to try to get me back. I held an emotional certainty that the Old Man was their principal antagonist; the slug must have known that I thought so; he had full use of my mind.
That slug had even met the Old Man, talked with him. Wait a minute?that slug was dead. And my theory came tumbling down.
And built up again at once. "Mary," I asked, "have you used your apartment since the morning you and I had breakfast there?" 
"No. Why?"
"Don't. Don't go back there for any purpose. I recall thinking, while I was with them, that I would have to booby-trap it."
"Well, you didn't, did you? Or did you?"
"No, I did not. But it may have been booby-trapped since then. There may be the equivalent of Old John waiting, spider fashion, for you?or me?to return there." I explained to her Mcllvaine's theory about the slugs, the "group memory" idea. "I thought at the time he was spinning the dream stuff scientists are so fond of. But now I don't know; it's the only hypothesis I can think of that covers everything . . . unless we assume that the titans are so stupid that they would as soon try to catch fish in a bathtub as in a brook. Which they aren't."
"Just a moment, dear?by Dr. Mcllvaine's theory each slug is really every other slug; is that it? In other words that thing that caught me last night was just as much the one that rode you when you were with them as was the one that actually did ride you?Oh, dear, I'm getting confused. I mean?"
"That's the general idea. Apart, they are individuals; in direct conference they merge their memories and Tweedledum becomes exactly like Tweedledee. Then, if that is true, this one last night remembers everything it learned from me provided it had direct conference with the slug that rode me, or any other slug that had had, or a slug that had been linked through any number of slugs by direct conference to the slug that had ridden me, after the time it did?which you can bet it did, from what I know of their habits. It would have?the first one, I mean . . . wait a minute; this is getting involved. Take three slugs; Joe, Moe, and uh, Herbert. Herbert is the one last night; Moe is the one which?"
"Why give them names if they are not individuals?" Mary wanted to know.
"Just to keep them? No reason; let it lie that if McIlvaine is right there are hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, of slugs who know exactly who you and I are, by name and by sight and everything, know where your apartment is, where my apartment is, and where our cabin is. They've got us on a list." 
"But?" She frowned. "That's a horrid thought, Sam. How would they know when to find us at the cabin? You didn't tell anybody we were going and I did not even know. Would they simply stake it out and wait? Yes, I suppose they would."
"They must have. We don't know that waiting matters to a slug; time may mean something entirely different to them."
"Like Venerians," she suggested. I nodded; a Venerian is likely as not to "marry" his own great-great-granddaughter?and be younger than his descendants. It depends on how they estivate, of course.
"In any case," I went on, "I've got to report this, including our guesses as to what is behind it, for the boys in the analytical group to play with."
I was about to go on to say that, if we were right, the Old Man would have to be especially careful, as it was he and not Mary and myself that they were after. But my phone sounded for the first time since my leave had started. I answered and the Old Man's voice cut in ahead of the talker's: "Report in person." 
"We're on our way," I acknowledged. "About thirty minutes."
"Make it sooner. You use Kay Five; tell Mary to come in by Ell One. Move." He switched off before I could ask him how he had known that Mary was with me.
"Did you get it?" I asked Mary. 
"Yes, I was in the circuit." 
"Sounds as if the party was about to start."
It was not until we had landed that I began to realize how drastically the situation had changed. We were complying with Schedule Bare Back; we had not heard of Schedule Sun Tan. Two cops stopped us as we got out. "Stay where you are!" one of them ordered. "Don't make any sudden moves."
You would not have known they were cops, except for the manner and the drawn guns. They were dressed in gun belts, shoes, and skimpy breech clouts?little more than straps. A second glance showed their shields clipped to their belts. "Now," the same one went on, "Off with those pants, buddy."
I did not move quickly enough to suit him. He barked, "Make it snappy! There have been two shot trying to escape already today; you may be the third." "Do it, Sam," Mary said quietly. I did it. My shorts were a one-piece garment, with the underwear part built in; without them, I stood dressed in my shoes and a pair of gloves, feeling like a fool?but I had managed to keep both my phone and my gun covered up as I took off my shorts.
The cop made me turn around. His mate said, "He's clean. Now the other one." I started to put my shorts back on and the first cop stopped me.
"Hey! You looking for trouble? Leave 'em off." 
I said reasonably, "You've searched me. I don't want to get picked up for indecent exposure." 
He looked surprised, then guffawed and turned to his mate. "You hear that. Ski? He's afraid he'll be arrested for indecent exposure."
The second one said patiently, "Listen, yokel, you got to cooperate, see? You know the rules. You can wear a fur coat for all of me?but you won't get picked up for indecent exposure; you'll get picked up DOA. The Vigilantes are a lot quicker to shoot than we are." He turned to Mary. "Now, lady, if you please."
Without argument Mary started to remove her shorts. The second cop said kindly, "That isn't necessary lady, not the way those things are built. Just turn around slowly."
"Thank you," Mary said and complied. The policeman's point was well taken; Mary's briefies appeared to have been sprayed on, and her halter also quite evidently contained nothing but Mary.
"How about those bandages?" the first one commented. "Her clothes sure can't cover anything." I thought, brother, how wrong you are; I'll bet she's packing at least two guns this minute, besides the one in her purse?and I'll bet one of them is ready to heat up quicker than yours! But what I said was, 
"She's been badly burned. Can't you see that?" He looked doubtfully at the sloppy job I had done on the dressings; I had worked on the principle that, if a little is good, more is better, and the dressing across her shoulders where she had been burned the worst undoubtedly could have concealed a slug, if that had been the purpose. "Mmmm . . ." he said, "If she was burned."
"Of course she was burned!" I felt my judgment slipping away; I was the perfect heavy husband, unreasonable where my wife was concerned. I knew it?and I liked it that way. "Damn it, look at her hair! Would she ruin a head of hair like that just to fool you?"
The first cop said darkly, "One of them would." 
The more patient one said, "Carl is right. I'm sorry, lady; we'll have to disturb those bandages." 
I said excitedly, "You can't do that! We're on our way to a doctor. You'll just?"
Mary said, "Help me, Sam. I can't take them off myself."
I shut up and started to peel up one corner of the big dressing, my hands trembling with rage. Presently the older, more kindly one whistled and said, "I'm satisfied. How about you, Carl?"
"Me, too. Ski. Gripes, girlie, it looks like somebody tried to barbecue you. What happened?" 
"Tell them, Sam."
So I did. The older cop finally commented, "I'd say you got off easy?no offense, madam. So it's cats, now, eh? Dogs I knew about. Horses, yes. But cats?you wouldn't think the ordinary cats could carry one." His face clouded. "We got a cat and now we'll have to get rid of it. My kids won't like that."
"I'm sorry," Mary told him and sounded as if she meant it.
"It's a bad time for everybody. Okay, folks, you can go?"
"Wait a minute," the first one said. "Ski, if she goes through the streets with that thing on her back somebody is likely to burn her."
The older one scratched his chin. "That's true," he said to Mary. "I'd say you couldn't stand to have that dressing off. We'll just have to dig up a prowl car for you."
Which they did?one was just landing and they hailed it. I had to pay the charges on the rented wreck, then I went along, as far as Mary's entrance. It was in a hotel, through a private elevator; I got in with her to avoid explanations, then went back up after she had gotten out at a level lower than the obvious controls of the car provided for. I was tempted to go on in with her, but the Old Man had ordered me to come in by Kay Five, so Kay Five it was.
I was tempted, too, to put my shorts back on. In the prowl car and during a quick march through a side door of the hotel, with police around us to keep Mary from being shot, I had not minded so much?but it took nerve to step out of the elevator and face the world without pants.
I need not have worried. The short distance I had to go was enough to show me that a fundamental custom had gone with last year's frost. Most men were wearing straps?codpieces, really?as the cops had been, but I was not the only man in New Brooklyn stark naked to his shoes. One in particular I remember; he was leaning against a street roof stanchion and searching with cold eyes every passer-by. He was wearing nothing but slippers and a brassard lettered with "VIG"?and he was carrying an Owens mob gun under his arm.
I saw three more like him before I reached Kay Five; I was glad that I was carrying my shorts.
Some women were naked, some were not?but those who were not might as well have been?string brassieres, translucent plastic trunks, nothing that could possibly hide a slug.
Most of the women, I decided, would have looked better in clothes, preferably togas. If this was what the preachers had been worrying about all these years, then they had been barking up the wrong tree; it was nothing to arouse the happy old beast in men. The total effect was depressing. That was my first impression?but before I got to my destination even that had worn off. Ugly bodies weren't any more noticeable than ugly taxicabs; the eye discounted them automatically. And so it appeared to be with everybody else, too; those on the streets seemed to have acquired utter indifference. Maybe Schedule Bare Back got them ready for it.
One thing I did not notice consciously until much later: after the first block I was unaware of my own nakedness. I noticed other people long after I had forgotten my own bare skin. Somehow, some way, the American community had been all wrong about the modesty taboo and had been wrong for centuries.
When tackled firmly, it was as empty as the ghost that turns out to be a flapping window drape. It did not mean a thing, either pro or con, moral or immoral. Skin was skin and what of it?
I was let in to see the Old Man at once. He looked up and growled, "You're late." 
I answered, "Where's Mary?"
"In the infirmary, getting treated and dictating her report. Let's see your hands."
"I'll show them to the doctor, thanks," I replied, making no move to take off the gloves. "What's up?" 
"If you would ever bother to listen to a newscast," he grumbled, "you would know what was up."

XXIV
I'm glad I had not looked at a newscast; our honeymoon would never have gotten to first base. While Mary and I had each been telling the other how wonderful the other one was the war had almost been lost?and I was not sure about that "almost". My suspicion that the slugs could, if necessary, hide themselves on any part of the body and still control hosts had proved to be right?but I had guessed that from my own experience on the streets. It had been proved by experiments at the National Zoo before Mary and I had holed up on the mountain, although I had not seen the report. I suppose the Old Man knew it; certainly the President knew it and the other top VIPs.
So Schedule Sun Tan replaced Schedule Bare Back and everybody skinned down to the buff.
Like hell they did! The matter was still "Top Secret" and the subject of cabinet debates at the time of the Scranton Riot. Don't ask me why it was top secret, or even restricted; our government has gotten the habit of classifying anything as secret which the all-wise statesmen and bureaucrats decide we are not big enough boys and girls to know, a Mother-Knows-Best-Dear policy. I've read that there used to be a time when a taxpayer could demand the facts on anything and get them. I don't know; it sounds Utopian.
The Scranton Riot should have convinced anybody that the slugs were loose in Zone Green despite Schedule Bare Back, but even that did not bring on Schedule Sun Tan. The fake air-raid alarm on the east coast took place, as I figure it, the third day of our honeymoon; there had not been any special excitement in the village when we visited it the day before that and certainly no vigilante activity. After the false air-raid alarm it took a while to figure out what had happened, even though it was obvious that lighting could not fail by accident in so many different shelters.
It gives me the leaping horrors to think about it even now?all those people crouching in the darkness, waiting for the all-clear, while zombies moved among them, slapping slugs on them. Apparently in some air raid bunkers the recruitment was one hundred percent. They did not have a chance.
So there were more riots the next day and we were well into the Terror, though we did not know it. Technically, the start of vigilantism came the first time a desperate citizen pulled a gun on a cop?Maurice T. Kaufman of Albany and the cop was Sergeant Malcolm MacDonald. Kaufman was dead a half second later and MacDonald followed him in a few minutes, torn to pieces by the mob, along with his titan master. But the Vigilantes did not really get going until the air-raid wardens put organization into the movement.
The wardens, being mostly aboveground at the time the coup in the bunkers took place, largely escaped?but they felt responsible. Not that all Vigilantes were wardens, nor all wardens Vigilantes?but a stark naked, armed man on the street was as likely to be wearing a warden's armband as the "VIG" brassard. Either way, you could count on him shooting at any unexplained excrescence on a human body?shoot and investigate afterward.
While my hands were being treated and dressed I was brought up to date concerning the period (it turned out to be two weeks) that Mary and I had spent at the cabin. By the Old Man's orders the doctor gave me a short shot of tempus before he worked on me and I spent the time?subjective, about three days; objective, less than an hour?studying stereo tapes through an over-speed scanner. This gadget has never been released to the public, though I have heard that it is bootlegged at some of the colleges around examination week. You adjust the speed to match your subjective time rate, or a little faster, and use an audio frequency step-down to let you hear what is being said. It is hard on the eyes and usually results in a splitting headache?but it is a big help in my profession.
It was hard to believe that so much could have happened in so short a time. Take dogs. A Vigilante would kill a dog on sight, even though it was not wearing a slug?because it was even money that it would be wearing one before next sunrise, that it would attack a man and that the titan would change riders in the dark. 
A hell of a world where you could not trust dogs!
Apparently cats were hardly ever used because of their smaller size. Poor old Pirate was an exceptional case.
In Zone Green dogs were almost never seen now, at least by day. They filtered out of Zone Red at night, traveled in the dark and hid out in the daytime. They kept showing up, even on the coasts. It made one think of the werewolf legends. I made a mental note to apologize to the village doctor who had refused to come to see Mary at night?after I pasted him one.
I scanned dozens of tapes which had been monitored from Zone Red; they fell into three time groups: the masquerade period, when the slugs had been continuing the "normal" broadcasts; a short period of counter-propaganda during which the slugs had tried to convince citizens in Zone Green that the government had gone crazy?it had not worked as we had not relayed their casts, just as they had not relayed the President's proclamation?and, finally, the current period in which pretense had been dropped, the masquerade abandoned.
According to Dr. McIlvaine the titans have no true culture of their own; they are parasitic even in that and merely adapt the culture they find to their own needs. Maybe he assumes too much, but that is what they did in Zone Red. The slugs would have to maintain the basic economic activity of their victims since the slugs themselves would starve if the hosts starved. To be sure, they continued that economy with variations that we would not use?that business of processing damaged and excess people in fertilizer plants, for example?but in general farmers stayed farmers, mechanics went on being mechanics, and bankers were still bankers. That last seems silly, but the experts claim that any "division-of-labor" economy requires an accounting system, a "money" system.
I know myself that they use money behind the Curtain, so he may be right?but I never heard of "bankers" or "money" among ants or termites. However, there may be lots of things I've never heard of.
It is not so obvious why they continued human recreations. Is the desire to be amused a universal need? Or did they learn it from us? The "experts" on each side of the argument are equally emphatic?and I don't know. What they picked from human ideas of fun to keep and "improve on" does not speak well for the human race although some of their variations may have merit?that stunt that they pulled in Mexico, for example, of giving the bull an even break with the matador.
But most of it just makes one sick at the stomach and I won't elaborate. I am one of the few who saw even transcriptions on such things, except for foolhardy folk who still held out in Zone Amber; I saw them professionally. The government monitored all stereocasts from Zone Red but the transcriptions were suppressed under the old Comstock "Indecency" Law?another example of "Mother-Knows-Best", though perhaps Mother did know best in this case. I hope that Mary, in her briefing, did not have to look at such things, but Mary would never say so if she had.
Or perhaps "Mother" did not "Know Best"; if anything more could have added to the determination of men still free to destroy this foul thing it would have been the "entertainment" stereocast from stations inside Zone Red. I recall a boxing match cast from the Will Rogers Memorial Auditorium at Fort Worth?or perhaps you would call it a wrestling match. In any case there was a ring and a referee and two contestants pitted against each other. There were even fouls, i.e., doing anything which might damage the opponent's manager?I mean "master", the opponent's slug.
Nothing else was a foul?nothing! It was a man versus a woman, both of them big and husky. She gouged out one of his eyes in the first clinch, but he broke her left wrist which kept the match on even enough terms to continue. It ended only when one of them had been so weakened by loss of blood that the puppet master could no longer make the slave dance. The woman lost?and died, I am sure, for her left breast was almost torn away and she had bled so much that only immediate surgery and massive transfusions could have saved her. Which she did not get; the slugs were transferred to new hosts at the end of the match and the inert contenders were dragged out.
But the male slave had remained active a little longer than the female, slashed and damaged though he was, and he finished the match with a final act of triumph over her which I soon learned was customary. It seemed to be a signal to turn it into an "audience participation show", an orgy which would make a witches' Sabbat seem like a sewing circle. 
Oh, the slugs had discovered sex, all right!
There was one more thing which I saw in this and other tapes, a thing so outrageous, so damnably disgusting that I hesitate even to mention it, though I feel I must?there were men and women here and there among the slaves, humans (if you could call them that) without slugs . . . trusties . . . renegades?
I hate slugs but I would turn from killing a slug to kill one such. Our ancestors believed that there were men who would willingly sign compacts with the Devil; our ancestors were partly right: there are men who would, given the chance.
Some people refuse to believe that any human being turned renegade; those who disbelieve did not see the suppressed transcriptions. There was no chance for mistake; as everyone knows, once the masquerade was no longer useful to the slugs, the wearing of clothes was dropped in Zone Red even more thoroughly than it was under Schedule Sun Tan in Zone Green; one could see. In the Fort Worth horror which I have faintly sketched above the referee was a renegade; he was much in the camera and I was able to be absolutely sure. I knew him by sight, a well-known amateur sportsman, a "gentleman" referee. I shan't mention his name, not to protect him but to protect myself; later on I killed him.
We were losing ground everywhere; that I knew before they finished treating my hands. Ours was a holding action only; our methods were effective only in stopping the spread of the infection and not fully effective in that. To fight them directly we would have to fight our own people, bomb our own cities, with no certainty of killing the humps. What we needed was a selective weapon, one that would kill slugs but not men, or something that would disable humans or render unconscious without killing and thereby permit us to rescue our compatriots. No such weapon was available, though the scientists were all busy on the problem, from the comedy team of McIlvaine & Vargas down to the lowliest bottle-washer in the Bureau of Standards. A "sleep" gas would have been perfect, but it is lucky that no such gas was known before the invasion, or the slugs could have used it against us; it would have cut both ways. It must be remembered that the slugs then had as much, or more, of the military potential of the United States at their disposal as had the free men.
Stalemate?with time on the side of the enemy. There were the fools who wanted to H-bomb the cities of the Mississippi Valley right out of existence, like curing a lip cancer by cutting off the head, but they were offset by their twins who had not seen slugs, did not believe in slugs, and felt that the whole matter was a violation of states' rights and Schedule Sun Tan a tyrannical Washington plot. These second sort were fewer each day, not because they changed their minds but because the Vigilantes were awfully eager.
Then there was the tertium quid, the flexible mind, the "reasonable" man who hardly had a mind to change?he favored negotiation; he thought we could "do business" with the titans. One such committee, a delegation from the caucus of the opposition party in Congress, actually attempted negotiation. Bypassing the State Department they got in touch via a linkage rigged across Zone Amber with the Governor of Missouri, and were assured of safe conduct and diplomatic immunity?"guarantees" from a titan, but they accepted them; they went to St. Louis?and never came back. They sent messages back; I saw one such, a good rousing speech adding up to, "Come on in; the water is fine!" 
Do steers sign treaties with meat packers?
North America was still the only known center of infection. The only action by the United Nations, other than placing the space stations at our disposal, was to remove temporarily to Geneva. No aggression by any other nation was involved and it was even argued that the slugs?if they existed?were technically an epidemic disease rather than a potential source of war and therefore of no interest to the Security Council. It was voted, with twenty-three nations abstaining, to define it as "civil disorder" and to urge each member nation to give such aid as it saw fit to the legitimate governments of the United States, Mexico, and Canada.
What each might have "seen fit" was academic; we did not know what to ask for.
It remained a creeping war, a silent war, with battles lost before we knew they were joined. After the debacle of Schedule Counter Blast, conventional weapons were hardly used, except in police action in Zone Amber?which was now a double no-man's-land on each side of Zone Red, from the trackless Canadian forests to the Mexican deserts. It was almost deserted in the daytime of any life larger than birds and mice, save for our own patrols. At night our scouts drew back and the dogs came through?and other things, perhaps.
At the time Mary and I arrived back only one atom bomb had been used in the entire war and that against a flying saucer that landed near San Francisco just south of Burlingame. Its destruction was according to doctrine, but the doctrine was now under criticism; the saucer should have been captured for study, so it was argued, if we were to learn enough about our foe to fight successfully. I found my sympathies with those who wanted to shoot first and study later.
By the time the dose of tempus was beginning to wear off I had a picture of the United States in a shape that I had not imagined even when I was in saturated Kansas City?a country undergoing a Terror. Friend might shoot friend, or wife denounce husband. Rumor of a titan could drum up a mob on any street, with Old Judge Lynch baying in their van. To rap on a door at night was to invite a blast through the door rather than a friendly response. Honest folk stayed home; at night the dogs were out?and others.
The fact that most of the rumored discoveries of slugs were baseless made the rumors no less dangerous. It was not exhibitionism which caused many people to prefer outright nudity to the tight and scanty clothing permitted under Schedule Sun Tan; even the skimpiest clothing invited a doubtful second look, a suspicion that might be decided too abruptly. The head-and-spine armor was never worn now; the slugs had faked it and used it almost at once. And there had been the case of a girl in Seattle; she had been dressed in sandals and a big purse, nothing else?but a Vigilante who apparently had developed a nose for the enemy followed her and noticed that she never, under any circumstances, moved the purse from her right hand, even when she opened it to make change.
She lived, for he burned her arm off at the wrist, and I suppose that she had a new one grafted on; the supply of such spare parts was almost a glut. The slug was alive, too, when the Vigilante opened the purse?but not for long.
When I came across this in the briefing I realized with a shudder that I had not been too safe even in carrying my shorts through the streets; any slug-sized burden was open to suspicion.
The drug had worn off by the time I scanned this incident and I was back in contact with my surroundings. I mentioned the matter to the nurse. "Mustn't worry," she told me. "It does no good. Now flex the fingers of your right hand, please."
I flexed them, while she helped the doctor spray on surrogate skin. I noticed that she was taking no chances; she wore no bra at all and her so-to-speak shorts were actually more of a G-string. The doctor was dressed about the same. "Wear gloves for rough work," the doctor cautioned, "and come back next week."
I thanked them and went to the operations office. I looked for Mary first, but found that she was busy in Cosmetics.

XXV
Hands all right?" the Old Man asked when they let me in.
"They'll do. False skin for a week. They do a graft job on my ear tomorrow."
He looked vexed. "I forgot your ear. There's no time for a graft to heal; Cosmetics will have to fake one for you."
"The ear doesn't matter," I told him, "but why bother to fake it? Impersonation job?"
"Not exactly. Now that you've been briefed, what do you think of the situation?"
I wondered what answer he was fishing for. "Not good," I conceded. "Everybody watching everybody else. Might as well be behind the Curtain. Shucks," I admitted, going overboard, "this is worse. You can usually bribe a communist, but what bribe can you offer a slug?"
"Hmm?" he commented. "That's an interesting thought. What would constitute a bribe inducement to a titan?"
"Look, that was a rhetorical question. I?" 
"And my restatement of it was not rhetorical; we'll farm it out for theoretical investigation." 
"Grabbing at straws these days, aren't you?"
"Precisely. Now about the rest of your comment; would you say that it was easier to penetrate and maintain surveillance in the Soviet Union or in Zone Red. Which would you rather tackle?"
I eyed him suspiciously. "There's a catch in this. You don't let a man pick his assignment." 
"I asked you for a professional opinion." 
"Mmmm . . . I don't have enough data. Tell me; are there slugs behind the Curtain?"
"That," he answered, "is just what I would like to find out."
I realized suddenly that Mary had been right; agents should not marry. If this job were ever finished, I wanted to hire out to count sheep for a rich insomniac or, something equally soft. "This time of year," I said, "I think I'd want to enter through Canton. Unless you were figuring on a drop?"
"What makes you think I want you to go into the USSR?" he asked. "We might find out what we want to know quicker and easier in Zone Red." 
"Huh?"
"Certainly. If there is infection anywhere but in this continent, the titans in Zone Red must know about it. Why go half around the globe to find out?" 
I put aside the plans I had been forming to be a Hindu merchant, travelling with his wife, and thought about what he was saying. Could be . . . could be. "How in the devil can Zone Red be penetrated now?" I asked. "Do I wear a plastic imitation slug on my shoulder blades? They'd catch me the first time I was called on for direct conference. Or before." 
"Don't be a defeatist. Four agents have gone in already." 
"And come back?" 
"Well, no, not exactly. That's the rub." 
"And you want me to be the fifth? Have you decided that I've cluttered up the payroll long enough?" 
"I think the others used the wrong tactics?" 
"Obviously!"
"The trick is to convince them that you are a renegade. Got any ideas?"
The idea was overwhelming, so much so that I did not answer at once. Finally I burst out, "Why not start me easy? Can't I impersonate a Panama pimp for a while? Or practice being an ax murderer? I have to get into the mood for this." 
"Easy," he said. "It may not be practical?" 
"Hmmph!"
"But you might bring it off. You've had more experience with their ways than any agent I've got. You must be rested up, aside from that little singe you got on your fingers. Or maybe we should drop you near Moscow and let you take a direct look. Think it over. Don't get into a fret about it for maybe another day." 
"Thanks. Thank you too much." I changed the subject. "What have you got planned for Mary?" 
"Why don't you stick to your own business?" 
"I'm married to her." 
"Yes."
"Well, for the love of Pete! Is that all you've got to say? Don't you even want to wish me luck?" 
"It strikes me," he said slowly, "that you have had all the luck one man could ask for. You have my blessing, for whatever it's worth."
"Oh. Well, thanks." I am slow in some ways, but I plead the excuse that I had had much on my mind?up to that moment it had not occurred to me that the Old Man might have had something directly to do with Mary's leave and mine falling together so conveniently. I said, "Look here. Dad?"
"Huh?" It was the second time I had called him that in a month; it seemed to put him on the defensive.
"You meant for Mary and me to marry all along. You planned it that way."
"Eh? Don't be ridiculous. I believe in free will, son?and free choices." 
"Provided the choice suits you." 
"See here, we discussed this once before?" 
"I know we did. Never mind; I'm hardly in a position to be angry about it. It's just that I feel like a prize stallion being led into the pen. Why did you do it? It wasn't sentiment about 'young love' and such twaddle; I know you better than that."
"I did not do anything, I tell you. As for approving of it?well, the race must go on, so they tell me. If it doesn't, everything else we do is pointless?even this war."
"Like that, eh? You would send two agents on leave in the middle of a battle?to catch yourself a grandson?" I did a rapid summing up and added, "I'll bet you used a slide rule."
He colored. "I don't know what you are talking about. You both were entitled to leave; the rest was accidental."
"Hmm! Accidents don't happen; not around you. Never mind; I'm a willing victim. Now about the job; give me a bit longer to size up the possibilities, if you really mean to let me pick my own method. Meantime, I'll see Cosmetics about a rubber ear."
I did not see a man about an ear, not then, for, as I was heading into Cosmetics, I met Mary coming out. I had not intended to let myself be surprised into endearments around the Section, but I was caught off guard. "Darling! They fixed you!"
She turned slowly around and let me look. "Good job, isn't it?"
It was a good job. I could not tell that her hair had ever been burned. Besides that, they had done a make-up job on her shoulders over the temporary skin that was quite convincing, but I had expected that. It was the hair that fooled me. I touched it gently and examined the hair line on the left side. "They must have taken it all off and started fresh." 
"No, they simply matched it." 
"Now you've got your favorite gun cache back." 
"Like this?" she said, dimpling. She adjusted her curls with her left hand?then suddenly she had a gun in each hand. And again I did not know where the second one had come from.
"That's papa's good girl! If you ever have to, you can make a living as a night-club magician. But seriously?don't let a Vigilante catch you doing that trick; he might get jumpy."
"One won't catch me," she assured me solemnly. I wondered about the verb. We went to the staff lounge and found a quiet place to talk. We did not order drinks; we did not seem to need such. We talked over the situation and found that each had been briefed. I did not tell Mary about my proposed assignment, and, if she had one, she did not mention it; we were back with the Section and indoctrinated habits are hard to break.
"Mary," I said suddenly, "are you pregnant?" 
"It's too early to tell, dear," she answered, searching my eyes. "Do you want me to be?" 
"Yes." 
"Then I'll try very hard to be."

XXVI
We finally decided to attempt to penetrate the Curtain rather than Zone Red. The evaluation group had advised that there was no chance of impersonating a renegade; their advice would not have stopped the Old Man, but it agreed with his opinion and mine. The question hinged on, "How does a man get to be a renegade? Why do the titans trust him?"
The question answers itself; a slug knows its host's mind. Verbal guarantees would mean nothing to a titan?but if the titan, through once possessing a man's mind, knows that he is a natural renegade, a man who can be had, then it may suit the slug's purposes to let him be renegade rather than host. But first the slug had to plumb the vileness in the man's mind and be sure of its quality.
We did not know this as fact but as logical necessity. Human logic?but it had to be slug logic, too, since it fitted what the slugs could and could not do. As for me, it was not possible even under deep hypnotic instruction to pass myself off to a slug in possession of my mind as a candidate for renegade. So the psycho lads decided?and to which I said "Amen!"; it saved me from telling the Old Man that I would not volunteer to let myself be caught by a slug and it saved him from rigging some damned logical necessity which would force me into "volunteering".
It may seem illogical that titans would "free" a host even though they knew that the host was the sort who could be owned. But the advantages to them show up through analogy: the commissars will not willingly let any of their slave-citizens escape; nevertheless they send out thousands of fifth columnists into the territory of free men. Once outside, these agents can choose freedom and many do, but most of them don't?as we all know too well. They prefer slavery.
In the renegades the slugs had a supply of "trustworthy" fifth columnists?"trustworthy" is not the right word but the English language has no word for this form of vileness. That Zone Green was being penetrated by renegades was certain?but it is hard to tell a fifth columnist from a custard head; it always has been. The ratio of damn fools to villains is high.
So I got ready to go. I took under light hypnosis a refresher in the languages I would need with emphasis on shibboleth phrases of the latest meanderings of the Party Line. I was provided with a personality and coached in a trade which would permit me to travel, repairman for irrigating pumps?and given much money. If it suited me, my trade would let me hint that a pump had been sabotaged. Coercion, intimidation, blackmail, and bribery are especially useful behind the Curtain; the people have lived under a terror so long that they have no defenses; their puppet strings are always at hand.
I was to be dropped, rather than let to crawl under the Curtain. If I failed to report back, other agents would follow. Probably other agents would anyhow?or already had gone. I was not told; what an agent does not know he cannot divulge, even under drugs.
The reporting equipment was a new model and a joy to have. Ultramicrowave stuff with the directional cavity no bigger than a teacup and the rest, power pack and all, hardly larger than a loaf of bread, with the whole thing so well shielded that it would not make a Geiger counter even nervous. Strictly horizon range?I was to aim it at whatever space station was above the horizon. It had to be aimed closely, which required me to seal into my mind the orbital tables of all three space stations and a navigational grid of the territory I was to operate in. The handicap was really its prime advantage; the highly directional quality of the sender meant that it would not be detected save by wild accident.
I had to drop through their screen but it would be under a blanket of anti-radar "window" to give their search technicians fits. They would know that something was being dropped, but they would not know what, nor where, nor when, for mine would not be the only blanket, nor the only night of such tactics.
Once I had made up my mind whether the USSR was or was not slug infested I was to dictate a report to whatever space station was in sight?the line-of-sight, that is; I can't pick out a space station by eye and I doubt those who say they can. Report made, I was free to walk, ride, crawl, sneak and/or bribe my way out if I could.
The only trouble was that I never had a chance to use these preparations; the Pass Christian saucer landed.
The Pass Christian saucer was only the third to be seen after landing. Of the first two, the Grinnell saucer had been concealed by the slugs?or perhaps it took off again?and the Burlingame saucer was a radioactive memory. But the Pass Christian saucer was tracked and was seen on the ground almost at once.
It was tracked by Space Station Alpha?and recorded as an extremely large meteorite believed to have landed in or near the Gulf of Mexico. Which fact was not connected with the Pass Christian saucer until later but which, when it was, told us why we had failed to spot other landings by radar screen . . . the saucers came in too fast.
The saucers could be "seen" by radar?the primitive radar of sixty-odd years ago had picked them up many times, especially when cruising at atmospheric speeds while scouting this planet. But our modern radar had been "improved" to the point where saucers could not be seen; our instruments were too specialized. Electronic instruments follow an almost organic growth toward greater and greater selectivity. All our radar involves discriminator circuits and like gimmicks to enable each type to "see" what it is supposed to see and not bother with what it should ignore. Traffic block control sees atmospheric traffic only; the defense screen and fire control radars see what they are supposed to see?the fine screen "sees" a range from atmospheric speeds up to orbiting missiles at five miles a second; the coarse screen overlaps the fine screen, starting down at the lowest wingless-missile speed and carrying on up into the highest spaceship speeds relative to Earth and somewhat higher?about ten miles per second.
There are other selectivities?weather radar, harbor radar, and so forth. The point is none of them sees objects at speeds over ten miles per second . . . with the single exception of meteor-count radars in the space stations, which are not military but a research concession granted by the U.N. to the Association for the Advancement of Science.
Consequently the "giant meteor" was recorded as such and was not associated with flying saucers until later.
But the Pass Christian saucer was seen to land. The submersible cruiser U.N.S. Robert Fulton on routine patrol of Zone Red out of Mobile was ten miles off Gulfport with only her receptors showing when the saucer decelerated and landed. The spaceship popped up on the screens of the cruiser as it dropped from outer-space speed (around fifty-three miles per second by the space station record) to a speed the cruiser's radars would accept.
It came out of nothing, slowed to zero, and disappeared from the screen?but the operator had a fix on the last blip, less than twenty miles away on the Mississippi coast. The cruiser's skipper was puzzled. The radar track surely could not be a ship, since ships don't decelerate at fifty gravities. It did not occur to him that g's might not matter to a slug. He swung his ship over and took a look.
His first dispatch read: SPACESHIP LANDED BEACH WEST OF PASS CHRISTIAN MISSISSIPPI. His second was: LANDING FORCE BEACHING TO CAPTURE.
If I had not been in the Section offices I suppose I would have been left out of the party. As it was my phone shrilled so, that I bumped my head on the study machine I was using and swore. The Old Man said, "Come at once. Move!"
It was the same party we had started with so many weeks?or was it years??before, the Old Man, Mary, and myself. We were in the air and heading south at emergency maximum, paying no attention to block controls and with our transponder sending out the police warning, before the Old Man told us why.
When he did tell us, I said, "Why the family group? You need a full-scale air task force."
"It will be there," he answered grimly. Then he grinned, his old wicked grin, an expression I had not seen since it started. "What do you care?" he jibed. "The 'Cavanaughs' are riding again. Eh, Mary?" 
I snorted. "If you want that sister-and-brother routine, you had better get another boy."
"Just the part where you protect her from dogs and strange men," he answered soberly. "And I do mean dogs and I do mean strange men, very strange men. This may be the payoff, son."
I started to ask him more but he went into the operator's compartment, closed the panel, and got busy at the communicator. I turned to Mary. She snuggled up with a little sigh and said, "Howdy, Bud."
I grabbed her. "Don't give me that 'Bud' stuff or somebody's going to get a paddling."

XXVII
We were almost shot down by our own boys, then we picked up an escort of two Black Angels who throttled back and managed to stay with us. They turned us over to the command ship from which Air Marshal Rexton was watching the action. The command ship matched speeds with us and took us inboard with an anchor loop?I had never had that done before; it's disconcerting.
Rexton wanted to spank us and send us home, since we were technically civilians?but spanking the Old Man is a chore. They finally unloaded us and I squatted our car down on the sea-wall roadway which borders the Gulf along there?scared out of my wits, I should add, for we were buffeted by A.A. on the way down. There was fighting going on above and all around us, but there was a curious calm near the saucer itself.
The outlander ship loomed up almost over us, not fifty yards away. It was as convincing and as ominous as the plastic-board fake in Iowa had been phony. It was a discus in shape and of great size; it was tilled slightly toward us, for it had grounded partly on one of the magnificent high-stilted old mansions which line that coast. The house had collapsed but the saucer was partly supported by the wreckage and by the six-foot-thick trunk of a tree that had shaded the house.
The ship's canted attitude let us see that the upper surface and what was surely its airlock?a metal hemisphere, a dozen feet across, at the main axis of the ship, where the hub would have been had it been a wheel. This hemisphere was lifted straight out or up from the body of the ship some six or eight feet. I could not see what held it out from the hull but I assumed that there must be a central shaft or piston; it came out like a poppet valve.
It was easy to see why the masters of the saucer had not closed up again and taken off from there; the airlock was fouled, held open by a "mud turtle", one of those little amphibious tanks which are at home on the bottom of a harbor or crawling up onto a beach?part of the landing force of the Fulton.
Let me set down now what I learned later; the tank was commanded by Ensign Gilbert Calhoun of Knoxville; with him was Powerman 2/c Florence Berzowski and a gunner named Booker T. W. Johnson. They were all dead, of course, before we got there.
The car, as soon as I roaded it, was surrounded by a landing force squad commanded by a pink-cheeked lad who seemed anxious to shoot somebody or anybody. He was less anxious when he got a look at Mary but he still refused to let us approach the saucer until he had checked with his tactical commander?who in turn consulted the skipper of the Fulton. We got an answer back in a short time, considering that the demand must have been referred to Rexton and probably clear back to Washington.
While waiting I watched the battle and, from what I saw, was well pleased to have no part of it. Somebody was going to get hurt?a good many had already. There was a male body, stark naked, just behind the car?a boy not more than fourteen. He was still clutching a rocket launcher and across his shoulders was the mark of the beast, though the slug was nowhere around. I wondered whether the slug had crawled away and was dying, or whether, perhaps, it had managed to transfer to the person who had bayoneted the boy.
Mary had walked west on the highway with the downy young naval officer while I was examining the corpse. The notion of a slug, possibly still alive, being around caused me to hurry to her. "Get back into the car," I said.
She continued to look west along the road. "I thought I might get in a shot or two," she answered, her eyes bright.
"She's safe here," the youngster assured me. "We're holding them, well down the road."
I ignored him. "Listen, you bloodthirsty little hellion," I snapped, "get back in that car before I break every bone in your body!" 
"Yes, Sam." She turned and did so.
I looked back at the young salt. "What are you staring at?" I demanded, feeling edgy and needing someone to take it out on. The place smelled of slugs and the wait was making me nervous.
"Nothing much," he said, looking me over. "In my part of the country we don't speak to ladies that way." 
"Then why in the hell don't you go back where you come from?" I answered and stalked away. The Old Man was missing, too; I did not like it.
An ambulance, coming back from the west, ground to a halt beside me. "Has the road to Pascagoula been opened?" the driver called out.
The Pascagoula River, thirty miles or so east of where the saucer had landed, was roughly "Zone Amber" for that area; the town of that name was east of the river's mouth and, nominally at least, in Zone Green?while sixty or seventy miles west of us on the same road was New Orleans, the heaviest concentration of titans south of St. Louis. Our opposition came from New Orleans while our nearest base was in Mobile.
"I haven't heard," I told the driver.
He chewed a knuckle. "Well . . . I made it through once; maybe I'll make it back all right." His turbines whined and he was away. I continued to look for the Old Man.
Although the ground fighting had moved away from the site, the air fighting was all around and above us. I was watching the vapor trails and trying to figure out who was what and how they could tell, when a big transport streaked into the area, put on the brakes with a burst of rato units, and spilled a platoon of sky boys. Again I wondered; it was too far away to tell whether they wore slugs or not. At least it came in from the east, but that did not necessarily prove anything.
I spotted the Old Man, talking with the commander of the landing force. I went up and interrupted. "We ought to get out of here, boss. This place is due to be atom-bombed about ten minutes ago."
The commander answered me. "Relax," he said blandly, "the concentration does not merit A-bombing, not even a pony bomb."
I was just about to ask him sharply how he knew that the slugs would figure it that way, when the Old Man interrupted. "He's right, son." He took me by the arm and walked me back toward the car. "He's perfectly right, but for the wrong reasons." 
"Huh?"
"Why haven't we bombed the cities they hold? They won't bomb this area, not while that ship is intact. They don't want to damage it; they want it back. Now go on back to Mary. Dogs and strange men?remember?"
I shut up, unconvinced. I expected us all to be clicks in a Geiger counter any second. Slugs, fighting as individuals, fought with gamecock recklessness?perhaps because they were really not individuals. Why should they be any more cautious about one of their own ships? They might be more anxious to keep it out of our hands than to save it.
We had just reached the car and spoken to Mary when the still-damp little snottie came trotting up. He halted, caught his breath, and saluted the Old Man. "The commander says that you are to have anything you want, sir?anything at all!"
From his manner I gathered that the answering dispatch had probably been spelled out in asterisks, accompanied by ruffles and flourishes. "Thank you, sir," the Old Man said mildly. "We merely want to inspect the captured ship."
"Yes, sir. Come with me, sir." He came with us instead, having difficulty making up his mind whether to escort the Old Man or Mary. Mary won. I came along behind, keeping my mind on watching out and ignoring the presence of the youngster. The country on that coast, unless gardened constantly, is practically jungle; the saucer lapped over into a brake of that sort and the Old Man took a shortcut through it. The kid said to him. "Watch out, sir. Mind where you step." 
I said, "Slugs?" 
He shook his head. "Coral snakes."
At that point a poisonous snake would have seemed as pleasant as a honey bee, but I must have been paying some attention to his warning for I was looking down when the next thing happened.
I first heard a shout. Then so help me, a Bengal tiger was charging us.
Probably Mary got in the first shot. I know that mine was not behind that of the young officer; it might even have been ahead. I'm sure it was?fairly sure, anyhow. It was the Old Man who shot last.
Among the four of us we cut that beast so many ways that it would never be worth anything as a rug. And yet the slug on it was untouched; I fried it with my second bolt. The young fellow looked at it without surprise. "Well," he said, "I thought we had cleaned up that load." 
"Huh? What do you mean?"
"One of the first transport tanks they sent out. Regular Noah's Ark. We were shooting everything from gorillas to polar bears. Say, did you ever have a water buffalo come at you?" 
"No and I don't want to."
"Not near as bad as the dogs, really. If you ask me, those things don't have much sense." He looked at the slug, quite unmoved, while I was ready as usual to throw up.
We got up out of there fast and onto the titan ship?which did not make me less nervous, but more. Not that there was anything frightening in the ship itself, not in its appearance.
But its appearance wasn't right. While it was obviously artificial, one knew without being told that it was not made by men. Why? I don't know. The surface of it was dull mirror, not a mark on it?not any sort of a mark; there was no way to tell how it had been put together. It was as smooth as a Jo block.
I could not tell of what it was made. Metal? Of course, it had to be metal. But was it? You would expect it to be either bitterly cold?or possibly intensely hot from its landing. I touched it and it was not anything at all, neither cold nor hot. Don't tell me it just happened to be exactly ninety-eight and six-tenths. I noticed another thing presently; a ship that size, landing at high speed, should have blasted a couple of acres. There was no blast area at all; the brake around it was green and rank.
We went up to the parasol business, the air lock, if that is what it was. The edge was jammed down tight on the little mud turtle; the armor of the tank was crushed in, as one might crush a pasteboard box with the hand. Those mud turtles are built to launch five hundred feet deep in water; they are strong.
Well, I suppose this one was strong. The parasol arrangement had damaged it, but the air lock had not closed. On the other hand the metal, or whatever the spaceship's door was made of, was unmarked by the exchange.
The Old Man turned to me. "Wait here with Mary." 
"You're not going in there by yourself?" 
"Yes. There may be very little time."
The kid spoke up. "I'm to stay with you, sir. That's what the commander said."
"Very well, sir," the Old Man agreed. "Come along." He peered over the edge, then knelt and lowered himself by his hands. The kid followed him. I felt burned up?but had no desire to argue the arrangements.
They disappeared into the hole. Mary turned to me and said, "Sam?I don't like this. I'm afraid." 
She startled me. I was afraid myself?but I had not expected her to be. "I'll take care of you." 
"Do we have to stay? He did not say so, quite." 
I considered it. "If you want to go back to the car I'll take you back."
"Well . . . no, Sam, I guess we have to stay. Come closer to me." She was trembling.
I don't know how long it was before they stuck their heads over the rim. The youngster climbed out and the Old Man told him to stand guard. "Come on," he said to us, "it's safe?I think."
"The hell it is," I told him, but I went because Mary was already starting. The Old Man helped her down.
"Mind your head," he said. "Low bridge all the way."
It is a platitude that unhuman races produce unhuman works, but very few humans have ever been inside a Venerian labyrinth and still fewer have seen the Martian ruins?and I was not one of the few. I don't know what I expected. Superficially the inside of the saucer was not, I suppose, too startling, but it was strange. It had been thought out by unhuman brains, ones which did not depend on human ideas in fabricating, brains which had never heard of the right angle and the straight line or which regarded them as unnecessary or undesirable. We found ourselves in a very small oblate chamber and from there we crawled through a tube about four feet thick, a tube which seemed to wind down into the ship and which glowed from all its surface with a reddish light.
The tube held an odd and somewhat distressing odor, as if of marsh gas, and mixed with it faintly was the reek of dead slugs. That and the reddish glow and the total lack of heat response from the wall of the tube as my palms pressed against it gave me the unpleasant fancy that I was crawling through the gut of some unearthly behemoth rather than exploring a strange machine.
The tube branched like an artery and there we came across our first Titanian androgyne. He?let me call it "he"?was sprawled on his back, like a child sleeping, his head pillowed on his slug. There was a suggestion of a smile on the little rosebud mouth; at first I did not realize that he was dead.
At first sight the similarities between the Titanian people and ourselves are more noticeable than the differences; we impress what we expect to see on what we do see, as a wind-sculptured rock may look like a human head or a dancing bear. Take the pretty little "mouth" for example; how was I to know that it was an organ for breathing solely?
Conceded that they are not human and that, despite the casual similarities of four limbs and a head-like protuberance, we are less like them than is a bullfrog like a bullpup; nevertheless the general effect is pleasing, not frightening, and faintly human. "Elfin" I should say?the elves of Saturn's moons. Had we met them before the slugs we call titans possessed them I think we could have gotten along with them. Judged by their ability to build the saucers they were our equals?if they did build them. (Certainly the slugs did not build them; slugs are not builders but thieves, cosmic cuckoos.)
But I am letting my own later thoughts get in the way. When I saw the little fellow I managed to draw my gun. The Old Man, anticipating my reaction, turned and said, "Take it easy. It's dead?they are all dead, smothered in oxygen when the tank ruined their air seal."
I still had my gun out. "I want to burn the slug," I insisted. "It may still be alive." It was not covered by the horny shell we had lately come to expect but was naked, moist and ugly.
He shrugged. "Suit yourself. It can't possibly hurt you." 
"Why not?"
"Wrong chemistry. That slug can't live on an oxygen breather." He crawled across the little body, giving me no chance to shoot had I decided to. Mary, always so quick with a gun, had not drawn but had shrunk against my side and was breathing in sharp little sobbing gasps. The Old Man stopped and said patiently, "Coming, Mary?"
She choked and then gasped, "Let's go back! Let's get out of here!"
I said, "She's right. This is no job for three people; this is something for a research team and proper equipment."
He paid no attention to me. "It has to be done, Mary. You know that. And you have to be the one to do it." 
"Why does she have to do it?" I demanded angrily. 
Again he ignored me. "Well, Mary?"
From somewhere inside herself she called on reserves. Her breathing became normal, her features relaxed, and she crawled across the slug-ridden elfin body with the serenity of a queen going to the gallows. I lumbered after them, still hampered by my gun and trying not to touch the body.
We came at last to a large chamber. It may have been the control room, for there were many of the dead little elfin creatures in it, though I saw nothing resembling (to my eye) instruments or machinery. Its inner surface was cavitated and picked out with lights much brighter than the reddish illumination and the chamber space was festooned with processes as meaningless to me as the convolutions of a brain. I was troubled again with the thought?completely wrong, I know now?that the ship itself was a living organism.
The Old Man paid no attention but crawled on through and into another ruddy-glowing tube. We followed its contortions to a place where it widened out to ten feet or more with a "ceiling" overhead almost tall enough to let us stand erect. But that was not what caught our eyes; the walls were no longer opaque.
On each side of us, beyond transparent membranes, were thousands on thousands of slugs, swimming, floating, writhing in some fluid which sustained them. Each tank had an inner diffuse light of its own and I could see back into the palpitating mass?and I wanted to scream.
I still had my gun out. The Old Man reached back and placed his hand over the bell of it. "Don't yield to temptation," he warned me. "You don't want to let that loose in here. Those are for us."
Mary looked at them with a face too calm. Thinking back, I doubt that she was fully conscious in the ordinary sense. I looked at her, glanced back at the walls of that ghoulish aquarium, and said urgently, "Let's get out of here if we can?then just bomb it out of existence."
"No," he said quietly, "there is more. Come." The tube narrowed in again, then enlarged and we were again in a somewhat smaller chamber like that of the slugs. Again there were transparent walls and again there were things floating beyond them.
I had to look twice before I could fully make out and believe what I saw.
Floating just beyond the wall, face down, was the body of a man?a human, Earth-born man?about forty to fifty years old. He was grizzled and almost bald. His arms were curved across his chest and his knees were drawn up, as if he were sleeping safe in bed?or in the womb.
I watched him, thinking terrible thoughts. He was not alone; there were more beyond him, male and female, young and old?but he was the only one I could see properly and he got my attention. I was sure that he was dead; it did not occur to me to think otherwise?then I saw his mouth working?and then I wished he were dead.
Mary was wandering around in that chamber as if she were drunk?no, not drunk but preoccupied and dazed. She went from one transparent wall to the other, peering intently into the crowded, half-seen depths. The Old Man looked only at her. "Well, Mary?" he said softly.
"I can't find them!" she said piteously in a voice like a little girl's. She ran back to the other side.
The Old Man grasped her arm and stopped her. "You're not looking for them in the right place," he said firmly. "Go back where they are. Remember?" 
She stopped and her voice was a wail. "I can't remember!"
"You must remember . . . now. This is what you can do for them. You must return to where they are and look for them."
Her eyes closed and tears started leaking from them. She gasped and choked. I pushed myself between them and said, "Stop this! What are you doing to her?"
He grabbed me with his free hand and pushed me away. "No, son," he whispered fiercely. "Keep out of this?you must keep out." 
"But?"
"No!" He let go of Mary and led me away to the entrance. "Stay there. And, as you love your wife, as you hate the titans, do not interfere. I shan't hurt her?that's a promise."
"What are you going to do?" But he had turned away. I stayed, unwilling to let it go on, afraid to tamper with what I did not understand.
Mary had sunk down to the floor and now squatted on it like a child, her face covered with her hands. The Old Man went back to her, knelt down and touched her arm. "Go back," I heard him say. "Go back to where it started." 
I could barely hear her answer, "No . . . no." 
"How old were you? You seemed to be about seven or eight when you were found. It was before that?" 
"Yes?yes, it was before that." She sobbed and collapsed completely to the floor. "Mama! Mama!"
"What is your mama saying?" he asked gently.
"She doesn't say anything. She's looking at me so queerly. There's something on her back. I'm afraid, I'm afraid!"
I got up and hurried toward them, crouching to keep from hitting the low ceiling. Without taking his eyes off Mary the Old Man motioned me back. I stopped, hesitated. "Go back," he ordered. "Way back."
The words were directed at me and I obeyed them?but so did Mary. "There was a ship," she muttered, "a big shiny ship?" He said something to her; if she answered I could not hear it. I stayed back this time and made no attempt to interfere. I could see that he was doing her no physical hurt and, despite my vastly disturbed emotions, I realized that something important was going on, something big enough to absorb the Old Man's full attention in the very teeth of the enemy.
He continued to talk to her, soothingly but insistently. Mary quieted down, seemed to sink almost into a lethargy, but I could hear that she answered him. After a while she was talking in the monotonous logorrhea of emotional release. Only occasionally did the Old Man prompt her.
I heard something crawling along the passage behind me. I turned and drew my gun, with a wild feeling that we were trapped. I almost shot him before I realized that it was the ubiquitous young officer we had left outside. "Come on out!" he said urgently. He pushed on past me out into the chamber and repeated the demand to the Old Man.
The Old Man looked exasperated beyond endurance. "Shut up and don't bother me," he said.
"You've got to, sir," the youngster insisted. "The commander says that you must come out at once. We're falling back; the commander says he may have to use demolition at any moment. If we are still inside?blooie! That's it."
"Very well," the Old Man agreed in unhurried tones. "We're coming. You go out and tell your commander that he must hold off until we get out; I have vitally important information. Son, help me with Mary."
"Aye, aye, sir!" the youngster acknowledged. "But hurry!" He scrambled away. I picked up Mary and carried her to where the chamber narrowed into a tube; she seemed almost unconscious. I put her down.
"We'll have to drag her," the Old Man said. "She may not come out of this soon. Here?let me get her up on your back, you can crawl with her."
I paid no attention but shook her. "Mary," I shouted, "Mary! Can you hear me?" 
Her eyes opened. "Yes, Sam?"
"Darling?we've got to get out of here, fast! Can you crawl?" 
"Yes, Sam." She closed her eyes again. I shook her again. "Mary!" 
"Yes, darling? What is it? I'm so tired." 
"Listen, Mary?you've got to crawl out of here. If you don't the slugs will get us?do you understand?"
"All right, darling." Her eyes stayed open this time but were vacant. I got her headed up the tube and came along after her. Whenever she faltered or slowed I slapped at her. I lifted and dragged her through the chamber of the slugs and again through the control room, if that is what it was. When we came to the place where the tube was partly blocked by the dead elfin creature she stopped; I wormed my way past her and moved it, stuffing it into the branching tube. There was no doubt, this time, that its slug was dead; I gagged at the job. Again I had to slap her into cooperation.
After an endless nightmare of leaden-limbed striving we reached the outer door and the young officer was there to help us lift her out, him pulling and the Old Man and me lifting and pushing. I gave the Old Man a leg up, jumped out myself, and took her away from the youngster. It was quite dark.
We went back the long way past the crushed house, avoiding the jungle like brake, and thence down to the beach road. Our car was no longer there; it did not matter for we found ourselves hurried into a "mud turtle" tank?none too soon, for the fighting was almost on top of us. The tank commander buttoned up and the craft lumbered off the stepped-back seawall and into the water. Fifteen minutes later we were inside the Fulton.
And an hour later we disembarked at the Mobile base. The Old Man and I had bad coffee and sandwiches in the wardroom of the Fulton, some of the Wave officers had taken Mary and cared for her in the women's quarters. She joined us as we left and seemed entirely normal. I said, "Mary, are you all right?" 
She smiled at me. "Of course, darling. Why shouldn't I be?"
A small command ship and an escort took us out of there. I had supposed that we were headed back to the Section offices, or more likely to Washington. I had not asked; the Old Man was in no mood to talk and I was satisfied simply to hold Mary's hand and feel relieved.
The pilot put us into a mountainside hangar in one of those egg-on-a-plate maneuvers that no civilian craft can accomplish?in the sky at high speed, then in a cave and stationary. Like that. "Where are we?" I asked.
The Old Man did not answer but got out; Mary and I followed. The hangar was small, just parking space for about a dozen craft, an arresting platform, and a single launching rack; it contained only two other ships besides ours. Guards met us and directed us on back to a door set in the living rock; we went through and found ourselves in an anteroom. An unseen metallic voice told us to strip off what little we wore. I did not mind being naked but I hated to part with my gun and phone.
We went on inside and were met by a young fellow whose total clothing was an armband showing three chevrons and crossed retorts. He turned us over to a girl who was wearing even less, as her armband had only two chevrons. Both of them noticed Mary, each with typical gender response. I think the corporal was glad to pass us on to the captain who received us.
"We got your message," the captain said. "Dr. Steelton is waiting."
"Thank you, ma'am," the Old Man answered. "The sooner, the better. Where?"
"Just a moment," she said, went to Mary and felt through her hair. "We have to be sure, you know," she said apologetically. If she was aware of the falseness of much of Mary's hair, she did not mention it and Mary did not flinch. "All right," she decided, "let's go." Her own hair was cut mannishly short, in crisp gray waves.
"Right," agreed the Old Man. "No, son, this is as far as you go." 
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you dam near loused up the first try," he explained briefly. "Now pipe down."
The captain said, "The officers' mess is straight down the first passageway to the left. Why don't you wait there?"
So I did. On the way I passed a door decorated primly in large red skull-and-crossbones and stenciled with: WARNING?LIVE PARASITES BEYOND THIS DOOR; in smaller letters it added Qualified Personnel Only?Use Procedure "A". 
I gave the door a wide berth.
The officers' mess was the usual clubroom and there were three or four men and two women lounging in it. No one seemed interested in my presence, so I found an unoccupied chair, sat down, and wondered just who you had to be to get a drink around this joint. After a time I was joined by a large male extrovert wearing a colonel's insignia on a chain around his neck; with it was a Saint Christopher's medal and an I.D. dog tag. "Newcomer?" he asked.
I admitted it. "Civilian expert?" he went on.
"I don't know about 'expert'," I replied. "I'm a field operative."
"Name? Sorry to be officious," he apologized, "but I'm alleged to be the security officer around here. My name's Kelly."
I told him mine. He nodded. "Matter of fact I saw your party coming in. Mine was the voice of conscience, coming out of the wall. Now, Mr. Nivens, how about a drink? From the brief we had on you, you could use one." 
I stood up. "Whom do I have to kill to get it?"
"?though as far as I can see," Kelly went on sometime later, "this place needs a security officer the way a horse needs roller skates. We should publish our results as fast as we get them. This isn't like fighting a human enemy."
I commented that he did not sound like the ordinary brass hat. He laughed and did not take offense. "Believe me, son, not all brass hats are as they are pictured?they just seem to be."
I remarked that Air Marshal Rexton struck me as a pretty sharp citizen.
"You know him?" the colonel asked.
"I don't know him exactly, but my work on this job has thrown me in his company a good bit?I last saw him earlier today."
"Hmm?" said the colonel. "I've never met the gentleman. You move in more rarefied strata than I do, sir."
I explained that it was mere happenstance, but from then on he showed me more respect. Presently he was telling me about the work the laboratory did. "By now we know more about those foul creatures than does Old Nick himself. But do we know how to kill them without killing their hosts? We do not.
"Of course," he went on, "if we could lure them one at a time into a small room and douse them with anesthetics, we could save the hosts?but that is like the old saw about how to catch a bird: naturally it's no trouble if you can sneak up close enough to put salt on its tail. I'm not a scientist myself?just the son of a cop and a cop myself under a different tag?but I've talked to the scientists here and I know what we need. This is a biological war and it will be won by biological warfare. What we need is a bug, one that will bite the slug and not the host. Doesn't sound too hard, does it? It is. We know a hundred things that will kill the slug?smallpox, typhus, syphilis, encephalitis lethargica, Obermeyer's virus, plague, yellow fever, and so on. But they kill the host, too."
"Couldn't they use something that everyone is immune to?" I asked. "Take typhoid?everybody has typhoid shots. And almost everybody is vaccinated for smallpox."
"No good?if the host is immune, the parasite doesn't get exposed to it. Now that the slugs have developed this outer cuticle the parasite's environment is the host. No, we need something the host will catch and that will kill the slug, but won't give the host more than a mild fever or a splitting headache." 
I started to answer with some no-doubt brilliant thought when I saw the Old Man standing in the doorway. I excused myself and went to him. "What was Kelly grilling you about?" he asked. 
"He wasn't grilling me," I answered.
"That's what you think. Don't you know what Kelly that is?" 
"Should I?"
"You should. Or perhaps you shouldn't; he never lets his picture be taken. That's B. J. Kelly, the greatest scientific criminologist of our generation." 
"That Kelly! But he's not in the army."
"Reserve, probably. But you can guess how important this laboratory is. Come on." 
"Where's Mary?" 
"You can't see her now. She's recuperating." 
"Is she?hurt?"
"I promised you she would not be hurt. Steelton is the best in his line. But we had to go down deep, against a great deal of resistance. That's always rough on the subject."
I thought about it. "Did you get what you were after?"
"Yes and no. We got a great deal, but we aren't through." 
"What were you after?"
We had been walking along one of the endless underground passageways of which the place was made. Now he turned us into a small, empty office and we sat down. The Old Man touched the communicator on the desk and said, "Private conference."
"Yes, sir," a voice answered. "We will not record." A green light came on in the ceiling.
"Not that I believe them," the Old Man complained, "but it may keep anyone but Kelly from playing it back. Now, son, about what you want to know; I'm not sure you are entitled to it. You are married to the girl, but that does not mean that you own her soul?and this stuff comes from down so deep that she did not know she had it herself."
I said nothing; there was nothing to say. He went on presently in worried tones, "Still?it might be better to tell you enough so that you will understand. Otherwise you would be bothering her to find out. That I don't want to happen, I don't ever want that to happen. You might throw her into a bad wingding. I doubt if she'll remember anything herself?Steelton is a very gentle operator?but you could stir up things." 
I took a deep breath. "You'll have to judge. I can't."
"Yes, I suppose so. Well, I'll tell you a bit and answer your questions?some of them?in exchange for a solemn promise never to bother your wife with it. You don't have the skill." 
"Very well, sir. I promise."
"Well?there was a group of people, a cult you might call them, that got into disrepute." 
"I know?the Whitmanites."
"Eh? How did you know? From Mary? No, she couldn't have; she didn't know herself." 
"No, not from Mary. I just figured it out." 
He looked at me with odd respect. "Maybe I've been underestimating you, son. As you say, the Whitmanites. Mary was one of them, as a kid in Antarctica."
"Wait a minute!" I said. "They left Antarctica in?" The wheels buzzed in my mind and the number came up. "?in 1974." 
"Surely. What about it?"
"But that would make Mary around forty years old. She can't be." 
"Do you care?" 
"Huh? Why, no?but she can't be."
"She is and she isn't. Just listen. Chronologically her age is about forty. Biologically she is in her middle twenties. Subjectively she is even younger, because she doesn't remember anything, not to know it, earlier than about 1990."
"What do you mean? That she doesn't remember I can understand?she never wants to remember. But what do you mean by the rest?"
"Just what I said. She is no older than she is because?you know that room where she started to remember? She spent ten years and probably more floating in suspended animation in just such a tank as that."

XXVIII
Time was when I was immune to emotional shocks. But as I get older, I don't get tougher; I get softer. Being in love has a lot to do with it, too. The thought of Mary, my beloved Mary, swimming in that artificial womb, neither dead nor alive but preserved like a pickled grasshopper, was too much for me.
I heard the Old Man saying, "Take it easy, son. She's all right." 
I said, "Go ahead."
Mary's overt history was simple, although mystifying. She had been found in the swamps near Kaiserville at the North Pole of Venus?a little girl who could give no account of herself and who knew only her name?Allucquere. Nobody spotted the significance of the name and a child of her (apparent) age could not be associated with the Whitmanites debacle in any case; the 1980 supply ship had not been able to find any survivor of their "New Zion" colony. Its plantations had returned to the swamp; the dwellings were ruptured shells, hidden in rank growth. More than ten years of time and more than two hundred miles of jungle separated the little waif of Kaiserville from the God-struck colonists of New Zion.
At that time, an unaccounted-for Earth child on Venus was little short of incredible. Like finding the cat locked in the icebox, it called for explanation. But there was no one around with the intellectual curiosity to push the matter. Kaiserville still does not have a sweet reputation; in those days it was made up of miners, doxies, company representatives of the Two Planets Corporation?and nothing else. I don't suppose that shoveling radioactive mud in the swamps leaves much energy for wonder.
Apparently she grew up using poker chips for toys and calling every woman in crib row "mother" or "auntie". In turn they shortened her name to "Lucky". The Old Man did not go into detail about who paid her way back to Earth and why, and he avoided my questions. The real question was where she had been from the time New Zion was eaten up by the Venerian jungle and just what had happened to the colony.
The only record of those things was buried in Mary's mind, locked tight with terror and despair.
Sometime before 1980?about the same time as the flying saucer reports from Russo-Siberia, or a year or so earlier?the titans had discovered the New Zion colony. If you place it one Saturn year earlier than the invasion of Earth, the times fit fairly well. It does not seem likely that the titans were looking for Earthmen on Venus; more probably they were scouting Venus as they had long scouted Earth. Or they may have known just where to look; we know that they kidnapped Earthmen at intervals over the course of two or more centuries; they may have captured someone on Earth whose brain could tell them where to find the New Zion colony. Mary's dark memories could contain no clue to that.
Mary saw the colony captured, saw her parents turned into zombies who no longer cared for her. Apparently she herself was not possessed, or she may have been possessed and turned loose, the titans finding a weak and ignorant young girl an unsuitable slave. In any case, for what was to her baby mind an endlessly long time, she hung around the slave colony, unwanted, uncared for, but unmolested, scavenging like a mouse for her living. On Venus the slugs were moving in to stay; their principal slaves were Venerians and the New Zion colonists were only incidental. It is sure that Mary saw her parents being placed in suspended animation?for later use in the invasion of Earth? Probable, but not certain.
In due course she herself was grabbed and placed in the tanks. Inside a titan ship? At a titan base on Venus itself? More probably the latter, as when she awoke, she was still on Venus. There are many such gaps. Were the slugs that rode the Venerians identical with the slugs which rode the colonists? Possible?since both Earth and Venus have oxy-carbon economy. The slugs seem to be endlessly protean but they surely have to adapt themselves to the biochemistry of their hosts. Had Venus an oxy-silicon economy like Mars, or a fluorine economy, the same parasite type could not possibly have fed on both.
But the gist of the matter lay in the situation as it was when Mary was removed from the artificial incubator. The titan invasion of Venus had failed, or was failing. Almost certainly she was possessed as soon as they removed her from the tank?but Mary had outlived the slug that possessed her.
Why had the slugs died? Why had the invasion of Venus failed? It was for clues to these that the Old Man and Dr. Steelton had gone fishing in Mary's brain.
I said, "Is that all?" 
He answered, "Isn't that enough?"
"It raises as many questions as it answers," I complained.
"Of course there is more," he told me, "a great deal more. But you aren't a Venerian expert of any sort, nor a psychologist, so you won't be called on to evaluate it. I've told you what I have so that you will know why we have to work on Mary and so that you won't question her about it. Be good to her, boy; she's had more than her share of grief."
I ignored the advice; I can get along or not get along with my own wife without help, thank you. "What I can't figure out," I answered, "is why you ever had Mary linked up with flying saucers in the first place? I can see now that you took her along on that first trip to Iowa on purpose. You were right, granted?but why? And don't give me any malarkey."
The Old Man himself looked puzzled. "Son, do you ever have hunches?" 
"Lord, yes!" 
"What is a 'hunch'?"
"Eh? It's a belief that something is so, or isn't so, without evidence. Or a premonition that something is going to happen?or a compulsion to do something." 
"Sloppy definitions. I'd call a hunch the result of automatic reasoning below the conscious level on data you did not know you possessed."
"Sounds like the black cat in the coal cellar at midnight. You didn't have any data, not then. Don't tell me that your unconscious mind works on data you are going to get, next week. I won't believe it." 
"Ah, but I did have data." 
"Huh?" 
"What's the last thing that happens to a candidate before he is certified as an agent in our section?" 
"The personal interview with you." 
"No, no!"
"Oh?the trance analysis." I had forgotten hypno-analysis for the simple reason that the subject never remembers it; he's off somewhere else, wherever it is you go when you're asleep. "You mean you had this data on Mary then. It wasn't a hunch at all." 
"No again. I had some, a very little of it?Mary's defenses are strong. And I had forgotten what little I knew, in my conscious memory. But I knew that Mary was the agent for this job. Later on I played back her hypno interview; then I knew that there must be more. We tried for it?and did not get it. But I knew that there had to be more."
I thought it over. "You must have been pretty cocky certain that it was worth digging out; you sure put her over the bumps to get it." 
"I had to. I'm sorry."
"Okay, okay." I waited a moment, then said, "Look?what was there in my hypno record?" 
"That's not a proper question." 
"Nuts."
"And I couldn't tell you if I would. I have never listened to your analysis, son." 
"Huh?"
"I had my deputy play it, then asked him if there were anything in it which I should know. He said there wasn't so I never played it." 
"So? Well?thanks."
He merely grunted, but I felt warmer toward him than I had in a long time. Dad and I have always managed to embarrass each other.

XXIX
The slugs had died from something they contracted on Venus. That much we knew, or thought we knew. We weren't likely to get another chance in a hurry to collect direct information as a dispatch came in while the Old Man and I were still talking, telling us that Rexton had finally ordered the Pass Christian saucer bombed to keep it from falling back in the hands of the titans. I think that the Old Man had hoped to get at those human beings whom we knew to be inanimate prisoners in that ship, find some way to breathe life into them, and question them.
Well, that chance was gone?what they could dig out of Mary had better be the answer. Assuming that some infection peculiar to Venus was fatal to slugs but not fatal to humans?at least Mary had lived through it?then the thing to do was to test them all and determine which one. Just dandy!?it was like examining every grain of sand on a wide beach to locate the one with square edges!The problem was somewhat simplified by there being no need to check the Venus diseases known to be fatal to Earthmen. Perhaps it had been one of such, but, if so, no matter; we could as well use smallpox. But the list of diseases native to Venus which kill Earthmen is surprisingly short and the list of those which are not fatal but merely nastily annoying is very long?from the standpoint of a Venerian bug we must be too strange a diet to suit his taste. If a Venerian bug has a viewpoint, which I doubt, McIlvaine's silly ideas notwithstanding.
The problem was made harder by the fact that the types of diseases native to Venus which were represented by living cultures on Earth were strictly limited in number, i.e., the grain of sand we sought might not be on this beach. To be sure, such an omission could be repaired?in a century or so of exploration and research on a strange planet.
In the meantime there was beginning to be a breath of frost in the air; Schedule Sun Tan could not go on forever.
They had to go back where they hoped the answer was?into Mary's brain. I did not like it, but I could not stop it. She did not appear to know why she was being asked to submit, over and over again, to hypnotics?or perhaps she would not tell. She seemed serene, but the strain showed?circles under her eyes, things like that. Finally I went to the Old Man and told him that it had to stop. "You know better than that, son," he said mildly.
"The hell I do! If you haven't gotten what you want from her by now, you'll never get it."
"Have you any idea of how long it takes to search all the memories in a person's mind, even if you limit yourself to a particular period? It takes exactly as long as the period itself. What we need?if it's there at all?may be subtle."
"If it's there at all,"' I repeated. "You don't know that it is. See here?if Mary miscarries as a result of this, I'll break your neck personally."
"And if we don't succeed," he answered gently, "you will wish to heaven that she had. Or do you want to raise up kids to be hosts to titans?"
I chewed my lip. "Why didn't you send me to the USSR as you planned to, instead of keeping me around?"
"Oh, that?In the first place I want you here, with Mary, keeping her morale up?instead of acting like a spoiled brat! In the second place, it isn't necessary, or I would have sent you."
"Huh? What happened? Did some other agent report in?"
He stood up and started to leave. "If you would ever learn to show a grown-up interest in the news of the world, you would know." 
I said, "Huh?" again, but he did not answer; he left.
I hurried out of there and brought myself up to date. My one-track mind has never been able to interest itself in the daily news; for my taste this dinning into the ears and eyes of trivia somewhere over the horizon is the bane of so-called civilization and the death of serious thinking. But I do miss things.
This time I had managed to miss the first news of the Asiatic plague. I had had my back turned on the biggest?no, the second biggest?news story of the century, the only continent-wide epidemic of the Black Death since the seventeenth century.
I could not understand it. Communists are crazy, granted?but I had been behind the Curtain enough to know that their public health measures were as good as ours and even better in some ways, for they were carried out "by the numbers" and no nonsense tolerated. And a country has to be, quite literally, lousy to permit the spread of plagues?rats, lice, and fleas, the historical vectors. In such respects the commissars had even managed to clean up China to the point, at least, that bubonic plague and typhus were sporadically endemic rather than epidemic.
Now both plagues were spreading like gossip across the whole Sino-Russo-Siberian axis, to the point where the soviet government system had broken down and pleas were being sent via the space stations for U.N. help. What had happened?
Out of my own mind I put the pieces together; I looked up the Old Man again. "Boss?there were slugs behind the Curtain." 
"Yes."
"You knew? Well, for cripes sake?we'd better do something fast, or the whole Mississippi Valley will be in the shape that Asia is in. Just one rat, one little rat?" I was thinking back to my own time among the slugs, something I avoided doing when possible. The titans did not bother about human sanitation. My own master had not caused me to bathe, not once. I doubted if there had been a bath taken between the Canadian border and New Orleans since the slugs dropped the masquerade as unnecessary. Lice?Fleas?
The Old Man sighed. "Maybe that's the best solution. Maybe it's the only one."
"You might as well bomb them, if that's the best we have to offer. It would be a cleaner way to die." 
"So it would. But you know that we won't. As long as there is a chance of cleaning out the vermin without burning down the barn, we'll keep on trying." 
I mulled it over at great length. We were in still another race against time. Fundamentally the slugs must be too stupid to keep slaves; perhaps that was why they moved from planet to planet?they spoiled what they touched. After a while their hosts would die out and then they needed new hosts.
Theory, just theory?I brushed it aside. One thing was sure: what had happened behind the Curtain would happen in Zone Red unless we found a way to kill off the slugs, and that mighty soon! Thinking about it, I made up my mind to do something I had considered before?force myself into the mind-searching sessions being conducted on Mary. If there were something in her hidden memories which could be used to kill slugs, possibly I might see it where others had failed. In any case I was going in, whether Steelton and the Old Man liked it or not. I was tired of being treated like a cross between a prince consort and an unwelcome child.

XXX
Since our arrival Mary and I had been living in a cubicle about the size of a bass drum. It had been intended for one junior officer; the laboratory had not been planned for married couples. We were as crowded as a plate of smorgasbord but we did not care.
I woke up first the next morning and made my usual quick check to be sure that a slug had not gotten to her. While I was doing so, she opened her eyes and smiled drowsily. "Go back to sleep," I said. "You've got another thirty minutes."
But she did not go back to sleep. After a while I said, "Mary, do you know the incubation period for bubonic plague?"
She answered, "Should I know? One of your eyes is slightly darker than the other."
I shook her. "Pay attention, wench. I was in the lab library last night, doing some rough figuring. As I get it, the slugs must have moved in on our commie pals at least three months before they invaded us." 
"Yes, of course." 
"You knew? Why didn't you say so?" 
"Nobody asked me. Besides, it's obvious."
"Oh, for heaven's sake! Let's get up; we'll be late for breakfast."
Before we left the cubicle I said, "Parlor games at the usual time this morning?" 
"Yes." 
"Mary, you never talk about what they ask you." 
She looked surprised. "But I never know." 
"That's what I gathered. Deep trance with a 'forgetter' order, eh?" 
"I suppose so."
"Hmm . . . well, there will be some changes made. Today I am going in with you." 
All she said was, "Yes, dear."
They were gathered as usual in Dr. Steelton's office, the Old Man, Steelton himself, a Colonel Gibsy who was chief of staff, a lieutenant colonel whom I knew only by sight, and an odd lot of sergeant-technicians, j.o.'s, and flunkies. In the army it seems to take an eight-man working party to help a brass hat blow his nose; that is one reason why I left the service.
The Old Man's eyebrows shot up when he saw me but he said nothing. A sergeant who seemed to be doorman tried to stop me. "Good morning, Mrs. Nivens," he said to Mary; then to me he added, "I don't seem to have you on the list."
"I'm putting myself on the list," I announced to the entire room and pushed on past him.
Colonel Gibsy glared at me and turned to the Old Man with one of those "Hrrumph-hrrumph-what's-all-this?" noises. The Old Man did not answer but his eyebrows went still higher. The rest looked frozen faced and tried to pretend they weren't there?except one WAC sergeant who could not keep from grinning.
The Old Man got up, said to Gibsy, "Just a moment. Colonel." and limped over to me. In a voice that reached me alone, he said, "Son, you promised me." 
"And I withdraw it. You had no business exacting a promise from a man about his wife. You were talking out of turn."
"You've no business here, son. You are not skilled in these matters. For Mary's sake, get out." 
Up to that moment it had not occurred to me to question the Old Man's right to stay?but I found myself announcing my decision as I made it. "You are the one with no business here?you are not an analyst. So get out."
The Old Man glanced at Mary and so did I. Nothing showed in her face; she might have been waiting for me to make change. The Old Man said slowly, "You been eating raw meat, son?"
I answered, "It's my wife who is being experimented on; from here on I make the rules?or there won't be any experiments."
Colonel Gibsy butted in with, "Young man, are you out of your mind?"
I said, "What's your status here?" I glanced at his hands and added, "That's a V.M.I, ring, isn't it? Have you any other qualifications? Are you an M.D.? Or a psychologist?"
He drew himself up and tried to look dignified?pretty difficult dressed in your skin, unless your dignity is built in, the way Mary's is. "You seem to forget that this is a military reservation."
"And you seem to forget that my wife and I aren't military personnel!" I added, "Come on, Mary. We're leaving." 
"Yes, Sam."
I added to the Old Man, "I'll tell the offices where to send our mail." I started for the door with Mary following me.
The Old Man said, "Just a moment, as a favor to me." I stopped and he went on to Gibsy, "Colonel, will you step outside with me? I'd like a word in private." 
Colonel Gibsy gave me a general-court-martial look but he went. We all waited. Mary sat down but I did not. The juniors continued to be poker-faced, the lieutenant colonel looked perturbed, and the little sergeant seemed about to burst. Steelton was the only one who appeared unconcerned. He took papers out of his "incoming" basket and commenced quietly to work on them.
It was ten or fifteen minutes later that a sergeant came in. "Dr. Steelton, the Commanding Officer says to go ahead."
"Very well. Sergeant," he acknowledged, then looked at me, and said, "Let's go into the operating room."
I said, "Not so fast. Who are the rest of these supernumeraries? How about them?" I indicated the lieutenant colonel.
"Eh? He's Dr. Hazelhurst?two years on Venus." 
"Okay, he stays." I caught the eye of the sergeant with the grin and said, "What's your job here, sister?" 
"Me? Oh, I'm sort of a chaperone."
"I'm taking over the chaperone business. Now, Doctor, suppose you sort out the spare wheels from the people you actually need for your work." 
"Certainly, sir." It turned out that he wanted no one but Colonel Hazelhurst. I gathered an impression that he was glad to get rid of the gallery. We went on inside?Mary, myself, and the two specialists.
The operating room contained a psychiatrist's couch surrounded by a semi-circle of chairs. The double snout of a tri-dim camera poked unobtrusively out of the overhead; I suppose the mike was hidden in the couch. Mary went to the couch and sat down; Dr. Steelton got out an injector. "We'll try to pick up where we left off, Mrs. Nivens."
I said, "Just a moment. You have records of the earlier attempts?" 
"Of course."
"Let's play them over first. I want to come up to date."
He hesitated, then answered, "If you wish. Mrs. Nivens, I suggest that you wait in my office. No, it will take quite a long time; suppose I send for you later?" 
It was probably just the contrary mood that I was in; bucking the Old Man had gotten me hiked up with adrenaline. "Let's find out first if she wants to leave." 
Steelton looked surprised. "You don't know what you are suggesting. These records would be emotionally disturbing to your wife, even harmful." 
Hazelhurst put in, "Very questionable therapy, young man."
I said, "This isn't therapy and you know it. If therapy had been your object you would have used eidetic recall technique instead of drugs."
Steelton looked worried. "There was not time for that. We had to use rough methods for quick results. I'm not sure that I can authorize the subject to see the records." 
Hazelhurst put in, "I agree with you. Doctor." 
I exploded. "Damn it, nobody asked you to authorize anything and you haven't got any authority in the matter. Those records were snitched right out of my wife's head and they belong to her. I'm sick of you people trying to play God. I don't like it in a slug and I don't like it any better in a human being. She'll make up her own mind whether or not she wants to see them and whether or not I or anybody else will see them. Now ask her!"
Steelton said, "Mrs. Nivens, do you wish to see your records?"
Mary answered, "Yes, Doctor, I'd like very much to see them."
He seemed surprised. "Uh, to be sure. Do you wish to see them by yourself?" He glanced at me.
"My husband and I will see them. You and Dr. Hazelhurst are welcome to remain, if you wish." 
Which they did. Presently a whole stack of tape spools were brought in, each labeled with attributed dates and ages. It would have taken us hours to go through them all, so I discarded those which concerned Mary's life after about 1991. I could not see how they could affect the problem and Mary could see them later if she wished.
We started out with her very early life. Each record started with the subject?Mary, that is?choking and groaning and struggling the way people always do when they are being forced back on a memory track which they would rather not follow, then would come the reconstruction, both in Mary's voice and in other voices. What surprised me most was Mary's face?in the tank, I mean. We had the magnification stepped up so that the stereo image of her face was practically in our laps and one could follow every change of expression.
First her face became that of a little girl?oh, her features were the same grown-up features but I knew that I was seeing my darling as she must have been when she was very small. It made me hope that we would have a little girl ourselves.
Then her expression would change to match when other actors out of her memory took over. It was like watching an incredibly able monologist playing many parts.
Mary took it with apparent serenity but her hand stole into mine. When we came to the terrible part when her parents changed, became not her parents but slaves of slugs, she clamped down on my fingers so hard that it would have crushed a hand less hamlike than my own. But she controlled herself.
I skipped over the spools marked "period of suspended animation". I was surprised to find that there were a great many of them; I would have thought that there was nothing to dig out of the memory of a person in such a condition. Be that as it may, I could not see how she could have learned anything during that period which would tell us how the slugs had died, so I left them out and proceeded to the group concerned with the time from her resuscitation to the group concerned with her rescue from the swamps.
One thing was certain from her expressions in the imaged record: she had been possessed by a slug as soon as she was revived. The dead quality of her face was that of a slug not bothering to keep up a masquerade; the stereocasts from Zone Red were full of that expression. The barren qualities of her memories from that period confirmed it.
Then, rather suddenly, she was no longer hag-ridden but was again a little girl, a very sick and frightened little girl. There was a delirious quality to her remembered thoughts, but, at the last, a new voice came out loud and clear; "Well, skin me alive come Sunday! Look, Pete?it's a little girl!"
Another voice answered, "Alive?" and the first voice answered, "I don't know."
The rest of that tape carried on into Kaiserville, her recovery, and many new voices and memories; presently it ended.
"I suggest," Dr. Steelton said as he took the tape out of the projector, "that we play another one of the same period. They are all slightly different and this period is the key to the whole matter." 
"Why, Doctor?" Mary wanted to know.
"Eh? Of course you need not see them if you don't want to?but this period is the one which we are actually investigating. From your memories we must build up a picture of what happened to the parasites on Venus, why they died. In particular, if we could tell just what killed the titan which, uh, possessed you before you were found?what killed it and left you alive?we might well have the weapon we need." 
"But don't you know?" Mary asked wonderingly.
"Eh? Not yet, not yet?but we'll get it. The human memory is an amazingly complete record, even though unhandy to use."
"But I can tell you now?I thought you knew. It was 'nine-day fever'."
"What?" Hazelhurst was out of his chair as if prodded.
"But of course. Couldn't you tell from my face? It was utterly characteristic?the mask, I mean. I saw it several times; I used to nurse it back ho?back in Kaiserville, because I had had it once and was immune to it."
Steelton said, "How about it Doctor? Have you ever seen a case of it?"
"Seen a case? No, I can't say that I have; by the time of the second expedition they had the vaccine for it. I'm thoroughly acquainted with its clinical characteristics, of course." 
"But can't you tell from this record?"
"Well," Hazelhurst answered carefully, "I would say that what we have seen is consistent with it?but not conclusive, not conclusive."
"What's not conclusive?" Mary said sharply. "I told you it was 'nine-day fever'."
"We must be sure," Steelton said apologetically.
"How sure can you get? There is no question about it. I was told that I had had nine-day fever, that I had been sick with it when Pete and Frisco found me. I nursed other cases later and I never caught it again. I remember what their faces looked like when they were ready to die?just like my own face in the record. Anyone who has ever seen a case never forgets it and could not possibly mistake it for anything else. What more do you want? Fiery letters in the sky?" I have never seen Mary so close to losing her temper?except once. I said to myself: look out, gentlemen, better duck!
Steelton said, "I think you have proved your point, dear lady?but tell me: you were believed to have no memory of this period and my own experience with you leads me to think so. Now you speak as if you had direct, conscious memory?yes?"
Mary looked puzzled. "I remember it now?I remember it quite clearly. I haven't thought about it in many years."
"I think I understand." He turned to Hazelhurst. "Well, Doctor? Do we have a culture of it in the laboratory? Have your boys done any work on it?" 
Hazelhurst seemed stunned. "Work on it? Of course not! It's utterly out of the question?nine-day fever! We might as well use polio?or typhus. I'd rather treat a hangnail with an ax!"
I touched Mary's arm and said, "Let's go, darling. I think we have done all the damage we can." As we left I saw that she was trembling and that her eyes were full of tears. I took her into the messroom for systemic treatment?distilled.
Later on I bedded Mary down for a nap and sat with her until I was sure she was asleep. Then I looked up my father; he was in the office they had assigned to him. The green privacy light was already on. "Howdy," I said.
He looked at me speculatively. "Well, Elihu, I hear that you hit the jackpot." 
"I prefer to be called 'Sam'," I answered.
"Very well, Sam. Success is its own excuse; nevertheless the jackpot appears to be disappointingly small. The situation seems to be almost as hopeless as before. Nine-day fever?no wonder the colony died out and the slugs as well. I don't see how we can use it. We can't expect everyone to have Mary's indomitable will to live."
I understood him; the fever carried a 98-percent plus death rate among unprotected Earthmen. With those who had taken the shots the rate was an effective zero?but that did not figure. We needed a bug that would just make a man sick?but would kill his slug. "I can't see that it makes much difference," I pointed out. "It's odds-on that you will have typhus?or plague?or both?throughout the Mississippi Valley in the next six weeks."
"Or the slugs may have learned a lesson from the setback they took in Asia and will start taking drastic sanitary measures," he answered. I had not thought of that; the idea startled me so that I almost missed the next thing he said, which was: "No, Sam, you'll have to devise a better plan than that." 
"I'll have to? I just work here."
"You did once?but now you've taken charge. I don't mind; I was ready to retire anyhow." 
"Huh? What the devil are you talking about? I'm not in charge of anything?and don't want to be. You are head of the Section."
He shook his head. "A boss is the man who does the bossing. Titles and insignia usually come after the fact, not before. Tell me?do you think Oldfield could take over my job?"
I considered it and shook my head; Dad's chief deputy was the executive officer type, a "carry-outer", not a "think-upper". "I've known that you would take over, some day," he went on. "Now you've done it?by bucking my judgment on an important matter, forcing your own on me, and by being justified in the outcome."
"Oh, rats! I got bull-headed and forced one issue. It never occurred to you big brains that you were failing to consult the one real Venus expert you had on tap?Mary, I mean. But I didn't expect to find out anything; I had a lucky break."
He shook his head. "I don't believe in luck, Sam. Luck is a tag given by the mediocre to account for the accomplishments of genius."
I placed my hands on the desk and leaned toward him. "Okay, so I'm a genius?just the same you are not going to get me to hold the sack. When this is over Mary and I are going up in the mountains and raise kittens and kids. We don't intend to spend our time bossing screwball agents."
He smiled gently as though he could see farther into the future than I could. I went on, "I don't want your job?understand me?"
"That is what the Devil said to the Deity after he displaced him?but he found he could not help himself. Don't take it so hard, Sam. I'll keep the title for the present and give you all the help I can. In the meantime, what are your orders, sir?"

XXXI
The worst of it was, he meant it. I tried to correct matters by going limp on him, but it did not work. A top-level conference was called late that afternoon; I was notified but I stayed away. Shortly a very polite little WAC came to tell me that the commanding officer was waiting and would I please come at once?
So I went?and tried to stay out of the discussion. But my father has a way of conducting any meeting he is in, even if he is not in the chair, by looking expectantly at the one he wants to hear from. It's a subtle trick, as the group does not know that it is being led.
But I knew. With every eye in the room on you, it is easier to voice an opinion than to keep quiet. Particularly as I found that I had opinions.
The meeting was largely given over to moaning and groaning about the utter impossibility of using nine-day fever against the slugs. Admitted that it would kill slugs?it would even kill Venerians who can be chopped in two and still survive. But it was sure death to any human?or almost any human; I was married to one who had survived?death to the enormous majority. Seven to ten days after exposure, then curtains. 
"Yes, Mr. Nivens?" It was the commanding general, addressing me. I hadn't said anything but Dad's eyes were on me, waiting.
"I think there has been a lot of despair voiced at this session," I said, "and a lot of opinions given that were based on assumptions. The assumptions may not be correct." 
"Yes?"
I did not have an instance in mind; I had been shooting from the hip. I continued to do so. "Well . . . for example?I hear constant reference to nine-day fever as if the 'nine-day' part were an absolute fact. It's not."
The boss brass shrugged impatiently. "It's a convenient tag?it averages nine days."
"Yes?but how do you know it lasts nine days?for a slug?"
By the murmur with which it was received I knew that I had hit the jackpot again.
A few minutes later I was being invited to explain why I thought the fever might run a different time in slugs and, if so, why it mattered. I began to feel like the after-dinner speaker who wishes he had not gotten up in the first place. But I bulled on ahead. "As to the first point," I said, "according to the record I saw this morning in the only case we know about the slug did die in less than nine days?quite a lot less. Those of you who have seen the records on my wife?and I gather that entirely too many of you have?are aware that her parasite left her, presumably dropped off and died, long before the eighth-day crisis. One datum does not fair a curve, but if it is true and experiments show it to be, then the problem is very different. A man infected with the fever might be rid of his slug in?oh, call it four days. That gives you five days to catch him and cure him."
The general whistled. "That's a pretty heroic solution, Mr. Nivens. How do you propose to cure him? For that matter, how do you propose to catch him? I mean to say, suppose we do plant an epidemic of nine-day fever in Zone Red, it would take some incredibly fast footwork?in the face of stubborn resistance, remember?to locate and treat more than fifty million people before they died of the fever."
It was a hot potato, so I slung it right back. I wondered as I did so how many "experts" made their names by passing the buck. "As to the second question, that is a logistical and tactical problem?your problem, not mine. As to the first, there is your expert." I pointed to Dr. Hazelhurst. "Ask him." 
Hazelhurst huffed and puffed and I knew how he felt. Insufficient former art . . . more research needed . . . experiments would be required . . . he seemed to recall that some work had been done toward an antitoxin treatment but the vaccine for immunizing had proven so successful that he was not sure the antitoxin had ever been perfected. Anyway, everyone who went to Venus nowadays was immunized before leaving. He concluded lamely by saying that the study of the exotic diseases of Venus was necessarily still in its infancy.
The general interrupted him as he was finishing. "This antitoxin business?how soon can you find out about it?"
Hazelhurst said he would get after it at once, there was a man at the Sorbonne he wanted to phone.
"Do so," his commanding officer said. "You are excused."
Hazelhurst came buzzing at our door before breakfast the next morning. I was annoyed but tried not to show it when I stepped out into the passage to see him. "Sorry to wake you," he said, "but you were right about that antitoxin matter."
"Huh?"
"They are sending me some from Paris; it should arrive any minute now. I do hope it's still potent." 
"And if it isn't?"
"Well, we have the means to make it. We'll have to make it, of course, if this wild scheme is used?millions of units of it."
"Thanks for telling me," I said. "I know the general will be pleased." I started to turn away; he stopped me.
"Uh, Mr. Nivens?" 
"Yes?" 
"About the matter of vectors?"
"Vectors?" At the moment all the word meant to me was little arrows pointing in various directions.
"Disease vectors. We can't use rats or mice or anything like that. Do you happen to know how the fever is transmitted on Venus? By a little flying rotifer, the Venerian equivalent of an insect?but we don't have such here and that is the only way it can be carried." 
"Do you mean to say you couldn't give it to me if you tried? Even with a jugful of live culture?" 
"Oh, yes?I could inject you with it. But I can't picture a million paratroopers dropping into Zone Red and asking the parasite-ridden population to hold still while they gave them injections." He spread his hands helplessly.
Something started turning slowly over in my brain . . . a million men, in a single drop. "Why ask me?" I said. "It seems to be a medical problem."
"Uh, yes, it is of course. I just thought?Well, you seemed to have a ready grasp?" He paused.
"Thanks." My mind was struggling with two problems at once and beginning to have traffic problems. How many people were there in Zone Red? "Let me get this straight: suppose you had the fever and I didn't; I could not catch it from you?" The drop could not be medical men; there weren't that many.
"Not very easily. If I took a live smear from my throat and placed it in your throat, you might contract it. If I opened a vein of mine and made a trace transfusion to your veins, you would be sure to be infected with it."
"Direct contact, eh?" How many people could one paratrooper service? Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Or more? "If that is what it takes, you don't have any problem." 
"Eh?"
"What's the first thing one slug does when he runs across another slug he hasn't seen lately?" 
"Conjugation!"
" 'Direct conference', I've always called it?but then I use the sloppy old slug language for it. Do you think that would pass on the disease?"
"Think so? I'm sure of it! We have demonstrated, right here in this laboratory, that there is actual exchange of living protein during conjugation. They could not possibly escape direct transmission; we can infect the whole colony as if it were one body. Now why didn't I think of that?"
His words roused out a horrid memory, something about, "Would that my subjects had but one neck?" But I refrained from quoting it. "Don't go off half cocked," I said. "Better try it first. But I suspect that it will work."
"It will, it will!" He started to go, then stopped. "Oh, Mr. Nivens, would you mind very much?I know it's a great deal to ask?"
"What is? Speak up; I'm getting hungry." Actually I was anxious to work out the rest of the other problem.
"Well, would you consider permitting me to announce this method of vectoring in my report this morning? I'll give you full credit, but the general expects so much and this is just what I need to make my report complete." He looked so anxious that I almost laughed.
"Not at all," I said. "It's your department." 
"That's decent of you. I'll try to return the favor." He turned away feeling happy and I turned back feeling the same way. I was beginning to like being a "genius".
I waited before reopening the door to our cubicle until I had straightened out in my mind all the main features of the big drop. Then I went in. Mary opened her eyes when I came in and gave me that long heavenly smile. I reached down and smoothed her hair. "Howdy, flame top, did you know that your husband is a genius?" 
"Yes." 
"You did? You never said so." 
"You never asked me."
Hazelhurst gave credit all right; he referred to it as the "Nivens vector". I suppose it was natural that I should be asked to comment, though Dad looked my way first.
"I agree with Dr. Hazelhurst," I started out, "subject to experimental confirmation as outlined. However, he has properly left open for discussion certain aspects which are tactical rather than medical. While it is true that the entire body of titans might be infected from one contact, important considerations of timing?crucial, I should say?" I had worked out my whole opening speech, even to the hesitations, while eating breakfast. Mary does not chatter at breakfast, thank goodness!
"?require vectoring from many focal points. If we are to save a nominal hundred percent of the population of Zone Red, it is necessary that all the parasites be infected at as nearly the same time as possible in order that rescue squads may enter Zone Red after the slugs are no longer dangerous and before any host has passed the point where antitoxin can save him. The problem is susceptible to mathematical analysis?" Sam boy, I said to myself, you old phony, you could not solve it with an electronic integrator and twenty years of sweat. "?and should be turned over to your analytical section. However, let me sketch out the factors. Call the number of vector origins 'X'; call the number of rescue workers who much be dropped 'Y'. There will be an indefinitely large number of simultaneous solutions, with the optimum solution depending on logistic factors. Speaking in advance of rigorous mathematical treatment?" I had done my very damndest with a slipstick, but I did not mention that. "?and basing my opinions on my own unfortunately-too-intimate knowledge of their habits, I would estimate that?"
They let me go right ahead. You could have heard a pin drop, if anybody in that bare-skinned crew had had a pin. The general interrupted me once when I placed a rather low estimate on "X"; "Mr. Nivens. I think we can assure you of any number of volunteers for vectoring."
I shook my head. "You can't accept volunteers, General."
"I think I see your objection. The disease would have to be given time to establish itself in the volunteer and the timing might be dangerously close for his safety. But I think we could get around that?a gelatin capsule with the antitoxin embedded in tissue, or something of the sort. I'm sure the staff could work it out."
I thought they could, too, but I did not say that my real objection was a deep-rooted aversion to any additional human soul having to be possessed by a slug. "You must not use human volunteers, sir. The slug will know everything that his host knows?and he simply will not go into direct conference; he'll warn the others by word of mouth instead." I did not know that I was right but it sounded plausible. "No, sir, we will use animals?apes, dogs, anything large enough to carry a slug but incapable of human speech, and in sufficient quantities to infect the whole group before any slug knows that it is sick."
I went on to give a fast sketch of the final drop, Schedule Mercy, as I visualized it. "We can assume that the first drop?Schedule Fever?can start as soon as we are sure that we will have enough units of antitoxin for the second drop. In less than a week thereafter there should be no slug left alive on this continent." 
They did not applaud, but it felt that way. The general adjourned the meeting and hurried away to call Air Marshal Rexton, then sent his aide back to invite me to lunch. I sent word that I would be pleased provided the invitation included my wife, otherwise I would be unable to accept.
Dad waited for me outside the conference room. "Well, how did I do?" I asked him, more anxiously than I tried to sound.
He shook his head. "Sam, you wowed 'em. You have the makings of a politician. No, I think I'll sign you up for twenty-six weeks of stereo instead." 
I tried not to show how much I was pleased. I had gotten through the whole performance without once stammering; I felt like a new man.

XXXII
That ape Satan which had wrung my heart so back at the National Zoo turned out to be as mean as he was billed, once he was free of his slug. Dad had volunteered to be the test case for the Nivens-Hazelhurst theories, but I put my foot down and Satan drew the short straw.
Dad made an issue out of it; he had some silly idea that it was up to him to be possessed by a slug, at least once. I told him that we had no time to waste on his sinful pride. He grew huffy but I made it stick.
It was neither filial affection nor its neo-Freudian antithesis that caused me to balk him; I was afraid of the combination of Dad-cum-slug. I did not want him on their side even temporarily and under laboratory conditions. Not with his shifty, tricky mind! I did not know how he would manage to escape nor what he would do to wreck our plans, but I was morally certain he would, once possessed.
People who have never experienced possession, even those who have seen it, cannot appreciate that the host is utterly against us?with all his abilities intact. We could not risk having Dad against us?and I swung enough weight to overrule him.
So we used anthropoid apes for the experiments. We had on hand not only apes from the National Zoological Gardens but simian citizens from half a dozen zoos and a couple of circuses. I did not select Satan for the job; I would have let the poor beast be. The look of patient suffering on his face made one forget the slug on his back.
Satan was injected with nine-day fever on Wednesday the 13th. By Friday the fever had established; another chimp-cum-slug was introduced into his cage; the two slugs immediately went into direct conference, after which the second ape was removed.
On Sunday the 17th Satan's master shriveled up and fell off?dead. Satan was immediately injected with the antitoxin. Late Monday the other slug died and its host was dosed.
By Wednesday Satan was well though a bit thin and the second ape, Lord Fauntleroy, was on the road to recovery. I gave Satan a banana to celebrate and he took off the first joint of my left index finger and me with no time for a repair job. It was no accident either; that ape was nasty.
But a minor injury could not depress my spirits. After I had it dressed I looked for Mary, as I wanted to crow; I failed to find her and ended up in the messroom, wanting someone with whom to share a toast.
The place was empty; everyone in the labs?except me?was working harder than ever, mounting Schedule Fever and Schedule Mercy. By order of the President all possible preparations were taking place in this one lab in the Smoky Mountains. The apes for vectoring, some two hundred of them, were here, and both the culture and the antitoxin were being "cooked" here; the horses needed for serum were stalled in what had been an underground handball court.
The million-plus men necessary for the Schedule Mercy drop could not be here, but they would know nothing about it until alerted a few hours before the drop, at which time each would be issued a hand gun and two bandoleers of individual dose antitoxin injectors. Those who had never parachuted before would not be given a chance to practice; they would each be pushed, if necessary, by some sergeant with a large foot. Everything possible was being done to keep the secret close; the only way I could see that we could lose (now that we knew that our theories worked) would be for the titans to find out our plans, through a renegade or by whatever means. Too many good plans have failed because some fool told his wife about it in bed.
If we failed to keep this secret, our ape disease vectors would never get into direct conference; they would be shot on sight wherever they appeared in the titan nation. But I relaxed over my first drink, happy and reasonably sure that the secret could not leak. Traffic with the laboratory was "incoming only" until after Drop Day and Colonel Kelly censored or monitored all communication outward?Kelly was no fool.
As for a leak from outside, the chances were slight. The general, Dad, Colonel Gibsy, and myself had gone to the White House the week before, there to see the President and Marshal Rexton. I had already convinced Dad that the way to keep this secret was not to share it with anybody; he put on a histrionic exhibition of belligerence and exasperation that got him what we wanted; in the end even Secretary Martinez was bypassed. If the President and Rexton could keep from talking in their sleep for another week, I did not see how we could miss.
A week would be none too soon; Zone Red was spreading. The counterattack they had launched at Pass Christian had not stopped there. The slugs had pushed on and now held the Gulf coast past Pensacola and there were signs that more was to come. Perhaps the slugs were growing tired of our resistance and might decide to waste human raw material by A-bombing the cities we still held. If so, we would find it hard to stop; a radar screen can alert your defenses, but it won't stop a determined attack.
But I refused to worry about that. One more week?
Colonel Kelly came in, looked around the otherwise empty room, came over and sat down beside me. "How about a drink?" I suggested. "I feel like celebrating."
He examined the hairy paunch bulging out in front of him and said, "I suppose one more beer wouldn't put me in any worse shape."
"Have two beers. Have four?a dozen." I dialed for him, and told him about the success of the experiments with the apes.
He nodded. "Yes, I had heard. Sounds good." 
" 'Good', the man says! Colonel, we are on the one yard line and goal to go. A week from now the game will be won." 
"So?"
"Oh, come now!" I answered, irritated by his manner. "In a short time you'll be able to put your clothes back on and lead a normal life. Or don't you think our plans will work?" 
"Yes, I think they will work." 
"Then why the crepe-hanging?"
Instead of answering directly he said, "Mr. Nivens, you don't think that a man with my pot belly enjoys running around without his clothes, do you?"
"I suppose not. As for myself, I'm beginning to find it pleasant. I may hate to have to give it up?saves time and it's comfortable."
"You need not worry about having to give it up. This is a permanent change."
"Huh? I don't get you. You said our plans would work and now you talk as if Schedule Sun Tan would go on forever." 
"In a modified way, it will." 
I said, "Pardon me? I'm stupid today."
He dialed for another beer. "Mr. Nivens, I never expected to live to see a military reservation turned into a ruddy nudist camp. Having seen it happen, I never expect to see us change back?because we can't. Pandora's box has a one-way lid. All the king's horses and all the king's men?"
"Conceded," I answered. "Things never go back quite to what they were before. Just the same, you are exaggerating. The day after the President rescinds Schedule Sun Tan the suspended blue laws will go into effect and a man without pants will be liable to arrest." 
"I hope not." 
"Huh? Make up your mind."
"It's made up for me. Mr. Nivens, as long as there exists a possibility that a slug is alive the polite man must be willing to bare his entire body on request?or risk getting shot. Not just this week and next week but twenty years from now, or a hundred. No, no!" he said, seeing that I was about to interrupt, "I am not disparaging your fine plans?but pardon me if I say that you have been too busy with their details to notice that they are strictly local and temporary. For example?have you made any plans for combing the Amazonian jungles, tree by tree?"
He went on apologetically, "Just a rhetorical inquiry. This globe has nearly sixty million square miles of dry land; we can't begin to search it and clean out the slugs. Shucks, man, we haven't made a dent in the rats and we've been at that a long time. Titans are trickier and more prolific than rats."
"Are you trying to tell me it's hopeless?" I demanded.
"Hopeless? Not at all. Have another drink. I'm trying to say that we are going to have to learn to live with this horror, the way we had to learn to live with the atom bomb."
I went away feeling dashed and not at all cocky. I wanted to find Mary. Some days, it occurred to me, the "genius" business wasn't worth the trouble.

XXXIII
We were gathered in the same conference room in the White House; it put me in mind of the night after the President's message many weeks before. Dad was there; so were Mary and Rexton and Martinez. None of the "fishing cabinet" was present but their places were filled by our own lab general, by Dr. Hazelhurst, and by Colonel Gibsy. Martinez was busy trying to restore his face after having been told that he had been shunted out of the biggest show of his own department.
Nobody paid him any attention. Our eyes were on the big map still mounted across one wall; it had been four and a half days since the vector drop of Schedule Fever but the Mississippi Valley still glowed in ruby lights.
I was getting jittery, although the drop had been an apparent success and we had lost only three craft. According to the equations every slug within reach of direct conference should have been infected three days ago, with an estimated twenty-three percent overlap. The operation had been computed to contact about eighty percent of the slugs in the first twelve hours alone, mostly in the large cities.
Soon, slugs should start dying a dam sight faster than flies ever did?if we were right.
I forced myself to sit still and wondered whether those ruby lights covered a few million very sick slugs?or merely two hundred dead apes. Had somebody skipped a decimal point? Or blabbed? Or had there been an error in our reasoning so colossal that we could not see it?
Suddenly a light blinked green, right in the middle of the board; everybody sat up. Right on top of it a voice began to come out of the stereo gear though no picture built up. "This is Station Dixie, Little Rock," a very tired southern voice said. "We need help very badly. Anyone who is listening, please be good enough to pass on this message: Little Rock, Arkansas, is in the grip of a terrible epidemic. Notify the Red Cross. We have been in the hands of?" The voice trailed off, whether from weakness or transmission failure I could not be sure.
I remembered to breathe. Mary patted my hand and I sat back, relaxing consciously. It was joy too great to be pleasure. I saw now that the green light had not been Little Rock, but farther west in Oklahoma. Two more lights blinked green, one in Nebraska and one north of the Canadian line. Another voice came over, a twangy New England voice; I wondered how he had gotten into Zone Red.
"A little like election night, eh, chief?" Martinez said heartily.
"A little," the President agreed, "but we do not usually get returns from Old Mexico." He pointed to the board; a pair of green lights were showing in Chihuahua.
"By George, you're right. Well, I guess 'State' will have some international incidents to straighten out when this is over, eh?"
The President did not answer and he shut up, to my relief. The President seemed to be talking to himself; he noticed me watching him, smiled, and spoke out loud:
" ' 'Tis said that fleas have little fleas, 
Upon their backs to bite 'em, 
And little fleas have lesser fleas, 
And so, ad infinitum.' "
I smiled to be polite though I thought the notion was gruesome, under the circumstances. The President looked away and said, "Would anyone like supper? I find that I am hungry, for the first time in days."
By late the next afternoon the board was more green than red. Rexton had caused to be set up two annunciators keyed into the command center in the New Pentagon; one showed percentage of completion of the complicated score deemed necessary before the big drop; the other showed the projected time of drop. The figures on it changed from time to time, sometimes up, sometimes down. For the past two hours they had been holding fairly steady around 17.43, east coast time.
Finally Rexton stood up. "I'm going to freeze it at seventeen forty-five," he announced. "Mr. President, if you will excuse me?" 
"Certainly, sir."
Rexton turned to Dad and myself. "If you two Don Quixote's are still determined to go, now is the time." 
I stood up. "Mary, you wait for me."
She asked, "Where?" It had already been settled?and not peacefully!?that she was not to go.
The President interrupted. "I suggest that Mrs. Nivens stay here. After all, she is a member of the family."
With the invitation he gave us his best smile and I said, "Thank you, sir." Colonel Gibsy got a very odd look.
Two hours later we were coming in on our target and the jump door was open. Dad and I were last in line, after the kids who would do the real work. My hands were sweaty and I stunk with the old curtain going-up stink. I was scared as hell?I never like to jump.

XXXIV
 Gun in my left hand, antitoxin injector ready in my right, I went from door to door in my assigned block. It was an older section of Jefferson City, slums almost; it consisted of apartment houses built fifty years ago. I had given two dozen injections and had three dozen to go before it would be time for me to rendezvous at the State House. I was getting sick of it.
I knew why I had come?it was not just curiosity; I wanted to see them die! I wanted to watch them die, see them dead, with a weary hate that passed all other needs. But now I had seen them dead and I wanted no more of it; I wanted to go home, take a bath, and forget it.
It was not hard work, just monotonous and nauseating. So far I had not seen one live slug, though I had seen many dead ones. I had burned one skulking dog that appeared to have a hump; I was not sure as the light had been bad. We had hit shortly before sundown and now it was almost full dark.
The worst of it was the smells. Whoever compared the odor of unwashed, lousy, diseased humans with that of sheep was no friend to decent sheep.
I finished checking the rooms of the apartment building I was in, shouted to make sure, and went out into the street. It was almost deserted; with the whole population sick with the fever we found few on the streets. The lone exception was a man who came weaving toward me, eyes vacant. I yelled, "Hey!" 
He stopped. I said, "You are sick, but I've got what you need to get well. Hold out your arm." 
He struck at me feebly. I hit him carefully with my gun and he went face down. Across his back was the red rash of the slug; I avoided that area, picked a reasonably clean and healthy patch over his kidney and stuck in the injector, bending it to break the point after it was in. The units were gas-loaded; nothing more was needed. I did not even withdraw it, but left him.
The first floor of the next house held seven people, most of them so far gone that I did not bother to speak but simply gave them their shots and hurried on. I had no trouble. The second floor was like the first.
The top floor had three empty apartments, at one of which I had to burn out the lock to enter. The fourth flat was occupied, in a manner of speaking. There was a dead woman on the floor of the kitchen, her head bashed in. Her slug was still on her shoulders, but merely resting there, for it was dead, too, and beginning to reek. I left them quickly and looked around.
In the bathroom, sitting in an old-fashioned bathtub, was a middle-aged man. His head slumped on his chest and his wrist veins were open. I thought he was dead but he looked up as I bent over him. "You're too late," he said dully. "I killed my wife."
?or too soon, I thought. From the appearance of the bottom of the tub and by his gray face, five minutes later would have been better. I looked at him, wondering whether or not to waste an injection.
He spoke again. "My little girl?"
"You have a daughter?" I said loudly. "Where is she?"
His eyes flickered but he did not speak. His head slumped forward again. I shouted at him, then felt his jaw line and dug my thumb into his neck, but could find no pulse. As a favor to him I burned him carefully through the base of the brain before I left.
The child was in bed in one of the rooms, a girl of eight or so who would have been pretty had she been well. She roused and cried and called me Daddy. "Yes, yes," I said soothingly, "Daddy's going to take care of you." I gave her the injection in her leg; I don't think she noticed it.
I turned to go but she called out again. "I'm thirsty. Want a drink of water." So I had to go back into that bathroom again.
As I was giving it to her my phone shrilled and I spilled some of it. "Son! Can you hear me?" 
I reached for my belt and switched on my phone. "Yes. What's up?"
"I'm in that little park just north of you. Can you come? I'm in trouble."
"Coming!" I put down the glass and started to leave?then caught by indecision, I turned back. I could not leave my new friend to wake up in that charnel house, a parent dead in each room. I gathered her up in my arms and stumbled down to the second floor. There I entered the first door I came to and laid her on a sofa. There were people in the flat, probably too sick to bother with her, but it was all I could do. 
"Hurry, son!"
"On my way!" I dashed out of there and wasted no more breath talking to him, but made speed. Dad's assignment was directly north of mine, paralleling it and fronting on one of those pint-sized downtown parks. When I got around the block I did not see him at first and ran on past him.
"Here, son, over here?at the car!" This time I could hear him both through the phone and my bare ear. I swung around and spotted the car, a big Cadillac duo much like the Section often used. There was someone inside but it was too dark for me to see whether or not it was the Old Man. I approached cautiously until I heard him say, "Thank God! I thought you would never come," and knew that it was he.
I had to duck to get in through the door. It was then that he clipped me.
I came to, to find my hands tied and my ankles as well. I was in the second driver's seat of the car and the Old Man was in the other, at the controls. The wheel on my side was latched up out of the way. The sudden realization that the car was in the air brought me fully awake.
He turned and said cheerfully, "Feeling better?" I could see his slug, riding high on his shoulders. 
"Some better," I admitted.
"Sorry I had to hit you," he went on, "but there was no other way."
"I suppose not."
"I'll have to leave you tied up for the present; you know that. Later on we can make better arrangements." He grinned, his old wicked grin. Most amazingly his own personality came through with every word the slug said.
I did not ask what "better arrangements" were possible; I did not need nor want to know. I concentrated on checking my bonds; I need not have bothered?the Old Man had given them his personal attention. 
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"South." He fiddled with the controls. "'Way south. Just give me a moment to lay this heap in the groove and I will explain what's in store for us." He was busy for a few seconds, then said, "There?that will hold her until she levels off at thirty thousand." 
The mention of that much altitude caused me to take a quick look at the control board. The duo did not merely look like one of the Section's cars; it actually was one of our souped-up jobs. "Where did you get this car?" I asked.
"The Section had it cached in Jefferson City. I looked, and, sure enough, nobody had found it. Fortunate, wasn't it?"
There could be a second opinion on that point, I thought, but I did not argue. I was still checking the possibilities?and finding them somewhere between slim and hopeless. My own gun was gone, as I could tell by the pressure. He was probably carrying his on the side away from me; it was not in sight.
"But that was not the best of it," he went on; "I had the good luck to be captured by what was almost certainly the only healthy master in the whole of Jefferson City?not that I believe in luck. So we win after all." He chuckled. "It's like playing both sides of a very difficult chess game."
"You did not tell me where we are going?" I persisted. I did not know that it would help, but I was getting nowhere fast and talking was the only action open to me.
He considered. "Out of the United States, certainly. My master may be the only one free of nine-day fever in the whole continent and I don't dare take a chance. I think the Yucatan peninsula would suit us?that's where I've got her pointed. We can hole up there and increase our numbers and work on south. When we do come back?and we will!?we won't make the same mistakes."
I said, "Dad, can't you take these ties off me? I'm losing circulation. You know you can trust me." 
"Presently, presently?all in good time. Wait until we go full automatic." The car was still climbing; souped up or not, thirty thousand was a long pull for a car that had started out as a family model.
I said, "You seem to forget that I was with the masters a long time. I know the score?and I give you my word of honor."
He grinned. "Don't teach grandma how to steal sheep. If I let you loose now, you'll kill me or I'll have to kill you. And I want you alive. We're going places, son?you and me. We're fast and we're smart and we are just what the doctor ordered."
I did not have an answer. He went on, "Just the same?about you knowing the score: why didn't you tell me the score, son? Why did you hold out on me?" 
"Huh?"
"You didn't tell me how it felt. Son, I had no idea that a man could feel such a sense of peace and contentment and well-being. This is the happiest I've been in years, the happiest since?" he suddenly looked puzzled, and then went on, "since your mother died. But never mind that; this is better. You should have told me."
Disgust suddenly poured over me and I forgot the cautious game I was playing. "Maybe I didn't see it that way. And neither would you, you crazy old fool, if you didn't have a filthy slug riding you, talking through your mouth, thinking with your brain!"
"Take it easy, son," he said gently?and so help me, his voice did soothe me. "You'll know better in a little while. Believe me, this is what we were intended for, this is our destiny. Mankind has been divided, warring with himself. The masters will make him whole again."
I thought to myself that there were probably custard heads just screwy enough to fall for such a line?surrender their souls willingly for a promise of security and peace. But I did not say so; I was clamping my jaws to keep from throwing up.
"But you need not wait much longer," he said suddenly, glancing at the board. "I'll nail her down in the groove." He adjusted his dead-reckoner bug, checked his board, and set his controls. "That's a relief. Next stop: Yucatan. Now to work." He got out of his chair and knelt beside me in the crowded space. "Got to be safe," he said, as he strapped the safety belt across my middle.
I brought my knees up in his face.
He reared up and looked at me without anger. "Naughty, naughty. I could resent that?but the masters don't go in for resentment. Now be good." He went ahead, checking my wrists and feet. His nose was bleeding but he did not bother to wipe it. "You'll do," he said. "Now be patient; it won't be long." 
He went back to the other control seat, sat down and leaned forward, elbows on knees. It brought his master directly into my view.
Nothing happened for some minutes, nor could I think of anything to do other than strain at my bonds. By his appearance, the Old Man was asleep, but I placed no trust in that.
A line formed straight down the middle of the horny brown covering of the slug.
As I watched it, it widened. Presently I could see the clotted opalescent horror underneath. The space between the two halves of the shell widened?and I realized that the slug was fissioning, sucking life and matter out of the body of my father to make two of itself.
I realized, too, with rigid terror, that I had no more than five minutes of individual life left to me. My new master was being born and soon would be ready to mount me.
Had it been humanly possible for flesh and bone to break the ties on me I would have broken them. I did not succeed. The Old Man paid no attention to my struggles. I doubt if he were conscious; the slugs must surely give up some measure of control while they are occupied with splitting. It must be that they simply immobilize the slave. As may be?the Old Man did not move.
By the time I had given up, worn out and sure that I could not break loose, I could see the ciliated silvery line down the center of the slug proper which means that fission is about to be complete. It was that which changed my line of reasoning, if there were reason left in my churning skull.
My hands were tied behind me, my ankles were tied, and I was belted tight across the middle to the chair. But my legs, even though fastened together, were free from my waist down; the seat had no knee belts.
I slumped down in the chair to get even more reach and swung my legs up high. I brought them down smashingly across the board?and set off every launching unit in her racks at once.
That adds up to a lot of g's?how many, I don't know, for I don't know how full her racks were. But there were plenty. We were both slammed back against the seats. Dad much harder than I was, since I was strapped down. He was thrown against the back of his seat, with his slug, open and helpless, crushed between the two masses. 
It splashed.
And Dad himself was caught in that terrible, total reflex, that spasm of every muscle that I had seen three times before. He bounced forward against the wheel, face contorted, fingers writhing.
The car dived.
I sat there and watched it dive, if you call it sitting when you are held in place only by the belt. If Dad's body had not hopelessly fouled the controls I might have been able to do something about it?gotten her headed up again perhaps?with my bound feet. As it was, I tried but with no success at all. The controls were probably jammed as well as fouled.
The altimeter was clicking away busily. We had dropped to eleven thousand feet before I found time to glance at it. Then it was nine . . . seven . . . six?and we entered our last mile.
At fifteen hundred the radar interlock with the altimeter cut in and the nose units fired one at a time. The belt buffeted me across the stomach each time and I finally did throw up. I was thinking that I was saved, that now the ship would level off?though I should have known better. Dad being jammed up against the wheel as he was.
I was still thinking so as we crashed.
I came to by becoming slowly aware of a gently rocking motion. I was annoyed by it, I wanted it to stop; even a slight motion seemed to cause me more pain than I could bear. I managed to get one eye open?the other would not open at all?and looked dully around for the source of my annoyance.
Above me was the floor of the car, but I stared at it for a long time before I placed it as such. By the time I figured out what it was I was somewhat aware of where I was and what had happened. I remembered the dive and the crash?and realized that we must have crashed not into the ground but into some body of water?the Gulf of Mexico?but I did not really care.
With a sudden burst of grief I mourned my father. 
The broken belt of my seat was flapping uselessly just above me. My hands were still tied and so were my ankles, and one arm at least seemed to be broken. One eye was stuck shut and it hurt me to breathe; I quit taking stock of my injuries. Dad was no longer plastered against the wheel and that puzzled me. With painful effort I rolled my head over to see the rest of the car with my one good eye. He was lying not far from me, three feet or so, from my head to his. He was bloody and cold and I was sure that he was dead. I think it took me about a half hour to cross that three feet.
I lay face to face with him, almost cheek to cheek. So far as I could tell there was no trace of life, nor, from the odd and twisted way in which he lay, did it seem possible.
"Dad," I said hoarsely. Then I screamed it. "Dad!" 
His eyes flickered but did not open. "Hello, son," he whispered. "Thanks, boy, thanks?" His voice died out.
I wanted to shake him but all I could do was shout. "Dad! Wake up?are you all right?"
He spoke again, as if every word were a painful task. "Your mother?said to tell you . . . she was?proud of you." His voice died out again and his breathing was labored in that ominous dry-stick sound.
"Dad," I sobbed, "don't die?I can't get along without you."
His eyes opened wide. "Yes, you can, son." He paused and labored, then added, "I'm hurt, boy." His eyes closed again.
I could not get any more out of him, though I shouted and screamed. Presently I lay my face against his and let my tears mix with the dirt and blood.

XXXV
And now to clean up Titan!
Each of us who are going is writing one of these reports, for we know that we may not come back. If not, this is our legacy to free human beings?all that we learned and all that we know of how the titan parasites operate and what must be guarded against. For Kelly was right; there is no getting Humpty-Dumpty back together. In spite of the almost complete success of Schedule Mercy there is no way to be sure that the slugs are all gone. No longer ago than last week it was reported that a bear was shot, up Yukon way, wearing a hump.
The race will have to be always on guard; most especially it will have to be on guard about twenty-five years from now if we don't come back?but the flying saucers do. We don't know why the titan monsters follow the twenty-nine year cycle of Saturn's "year", but they do. The human race has many cycles which match the Earth year; the reasons may be equally simple for the titans. We hope that they are active only at one period of their "year"; if they are. Operation Vengeance may have easy pickings. Not that we are counting on it. I am going out, heaven help us, as an "applied psychologist (exotic)", but I am also a combat trooper, as is every one of us, from chaplain to cook. This is for keeps and we intend to show those slugs that they made the mistake of tangling with the toughest, meanest, deadliest, most unrelenting?and ablest?form of life in this section of space, a critter that can be killed but can't be tamed.
(I have a private hope that we will find some way to save the little elf creatures, the androgynes. We weren't able to save any of those in the saucer we found near Kansas City when the fighting was over, but that doesn't prove anything. I think we could get along with the elves. They are probably the real natives of Titan, anyhow; certainly they aren't related to the slugs.)
Whether we make it, or not, the human race has got to keep up its well-earned reputation for ferocity. If the slugs taught us anything, it was that the price of freedom is the willingness to do sudden battle, anywhere, any time, and with utter recklessness. If we did not learn that, well?"Dinosaurs, move over! We are ready to become extinct."
For who knows what dirty tricks may be lurking around this universe? The slugs may be simple and open and friendly compared with, let us say, the natives of the planets of Sirius. If this is just the opener, we had better learn from it for the main event. We thought space was empty and that we were automatically the lords of creation?even after we "conquered" space we thought so; Mars was already dead and Venus had not really gotten started. Well, if Man wants to be top dog?or even a respected neighbor?he'll have to fight for it. Beat the plowshares back into swords; the other was a maiden aunt's fancy.
Every one of us who is going has been possessed at least once. Only those who have been hag-ridden can know how tricky the slugs are, how constantly one must be on guard?or how deeply one must hate. The trip, they tell me, will take about twelve years, which will give Mary and me time to finish our honeymoon. Oh, yes, Mary is going; most of us are married couples and the single men are balanced by an equal number of single women. Twelve years isn't a trip; it's a way of living.
When I told Mary that we were going to Saturn her single comment was, "Yes, dear."
We'll have time for two or three kids, too. As Dad says, "The race must go on, even if it doesn't know where."
This report is loose-jointed in spots, and I can see that some must be cut and some must be censored before it is transcribed. But I have put everything into it, as I saw it and as I felt it, for war with another race is psychological war, not war of gadgets, and what I thought and what I felt may be more important than what I did.
I am finishing this report in Space Station Beta, from which we will transship to our vessel U.N.S. Avenger. I will not have time to make corrections; this will have to go as is, for the historians to have fun with. We said good-by to Dad last night at Pikes Peak Port and left our little girl with him. She did not understand and that was hard. But it was better so?and Mary and I will look into the matter of having another, at once.
When I said good-by Dad corrected me. "So long, you mean. You'll be back and I intend to hang on, getting crankier and meaner every year, until you do." I said I hoped so. He nodded. "You'll make it. You're too tough and mean to die. I've got a lot of confidence in you and the likes of you, son." 
We are about to transship. I feel exhilarated. Puppet masters?the free men are coming to kill you!
Death and Destruction!





About the Author

ROBERT ANSON HEINLEIN was born in Butler, Missouri, in 1907. A graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, he was retired, disabled, in 1934. He studied mathematics and physics at the graduate school of the University of California and owned a silver mine before beginning to write science fiction, in 1939. In 1947 his first book of fiction, ROCKET SHIP GALILEO, was published. His novels include DOUBLE STAR (1956), STARSHIP TROOPERS (1959), STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND (1961), and THE MOON IS A HARSH MISTRESS (1966), all winners of the Hugo Award. Heinlein was guest commentator for the Apollo II first lunar landing. In 1975 he received the Grand Master Nebula Award for lifetime achievement. Mr. Heinlein died in 1988.
How to make your files non-deletable,
and get rid off those ball-less deleters...


It's quite simple, on each server where the files are deletable,
you're able to rename them, too. So, after you've uploaded a file you must
rename it to:

filename ./ /

that means   [filename][space][dot]/[space]/

After done so, the file will be still downloadable, but only deletable by the
Sysadmin.

If you use a FlashFXP as ftp-client, you can make a custom command for that.

In the menu choose Commands/Edit Commands... (or press F7), then under Custom Commands
click on Add Cmd and type something like "Make Non-Deletable" as name. Choose a key
as shortcut and in the bottom window under Command type the following:

rnfr %f
rnto %f ./ /


Hint: hit ENTER to change to the second line.

Now you're able to make selected files non-deletable by using the shortcut or choose
from the context-menu Commands/Make Non-Deletable.





Krondor: The Betrayal Book I of The Riftwar Legacy [111-066-4.3]

By: RAYMOND E. FEIST

Synopsis:

Based on the game Betrayal at Krondor Published by Dynamix, Inc.

Story by Neal Hallford, John Cutter, and Raymond E. Feist.

Also by Raymond E. Feist

Magician

Silverborn

A Darkness at Setbanon

Faerie Tale 311

Prince of the Blood

The King's Buccaneer

Sbadow of a Dark Queen

Rise of a Mercbant Prince

Rage of a Demon King

Shards of a Broken Crown

With Janny Wurts:

Daughter of Empire

Servant of Empire

Mistress of Empire

RAYMOND E. FEIST

Krondor,

The Betrayal

Book I of the R@(twar Legacy

Harpercollinspublisbers

Voyager

An Imprint of harpercollins publishers 77-85 Fulham Palace Road,

Hammersmith, London w6 Sib

The Voyager World Wide Web site address is
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk/voyager

Published by Voyager 1998 13 5 7 9 8 6 4 2

Copyright @ Raymond E. Feist 1998

The Author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of
this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 0 00 224694 5

Typeset in Adobe Caslon by

Palimpsest Book Production Limited, Polmont, Stirlingshire

Printed and bound by
Griffin Press Pry Ltd, Netley, South Australia

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any
means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,
without the prior permission of the publishers.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of
trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover
other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition
including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Again I am in debt to many people.

The original Midkemians, for the universe in which I work, and for their
understanding of what makes a good story, a good game, and how the two
are different.

My agent Jonathan Matson, for shepherding me through major difficulties
in creating these games, with his usual deft touch and quick wit.

John Cutter, who thought it up in the first place.

Neal Hallford, who created a very nifty story for the core of the game
which provided the basis for this book.

The rest of the creative team at Dynamix who managed to squeeze the most
out of the processor to give us music, pictures, sound and story.

And to Jerry Lutrell, for keeping me apprised of what was what early on.

My wife, Kathlyn S. Starbuck, for being who she is.

My children Jessica and James, for keeping me in touch with what's
important daily and for being the most wonderful children any father
could ask for.

Raymond E. Feist

Rancho Santa Fe, CA

March 11, 1998


For John Cutter and Neal Harford with thanks for their creativity and
enthusiasm

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE: Warning I

CHAPTER ONE: Encounter 8

CHAPTER Two: Deception 24

CHAPTER THREE: Revelation 43

CHAPTER FOUR: Passage 57

CHAPTER FIVE: Mission 74

CHAPTER SIX: Journey 89

CHAPTER SEVEN: Murders 105

CHAPTER EIGHT: Secrets 124

CHAPTER NINE: Suspect 141

CHAPTER TEN: Nighthawks 156

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Escape 178

CHAPTER TWELVE: Preparations 197

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Betrayal 212

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Instructions 229

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Quest 244

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Tasks 258

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Misdirection 274

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Regroup 293

CHAPTER NINETEEN: Encounter 307

CHAPTER TWENTY: Retribution 323

EPILOGUE

Dedication 345

Afterword 350

PROLOGUE

4 warning

The wind howled.

Locklear, squire of the Prince of Krondor's court, sat huddled under his
heavy cloak, astride his horse. Summer was quick to flee in the
Northlands and the passes through the mountains known as the Teeth of
the World. Autumn nights in the south might still be soft and warm, but
up here in the north, autumn had been a brief visitor and winter was
early to arrive, and would be long in residence. Locklear cursed his own
stupidity for leading him to this forlorn place.

Sergeant Bales said, 'Gets nippy up here, squire. "The sergeant had head
the rumour about the young noble's sudden appearance in Tyr-Sog, some
matter involving a young woman married to a well-connected merchant in
Krondor. Locklear wouldn't be the first young dandy sent to the frontier
to get him out of an angry husband's reach. 'Not as balmy as Krondor,
sorry to say, sir. " 'Really? "asked the young squire, dryly.

The patrol followed a narrow trail along the edge of the foothills, the
northern border of the Kingdom of the Isles. Locklear had been in court
at Tyr-Sog less than a week when Baron Moyiet had suggested the young
squire might benefit from accompanying the special patrol to the east of
the city. Rumours had been circulating that renegades and moredhel -
dark elves known as the Brotherhood of the Dark

Path - were infiltrating south under the cover of heavy rains and snow
flurries. Trackers had reported few signs, but hearsay and the
insistence of farmers that they had seen companies of dark-clad warriors
hurrying south had prompted the Baron to order the patrol.

Locklear knew as well as the men garrisoned there that the chance

of any activity along the small passes over the mountains in late fall
or early winter was unusual. While the freeze had just come to the
foothills, the higher passes would already be thick with snow, then
choked with mud should a brief thaw occur.

Yet since the war known as the Great Uprising - the invasion of the
Kingdom by the army of Murmandamus, the charismatic leader of the dark
elves - ten years ago, any activity was to be investigated, and that
order came directly from King Lyam. 'Yes, must be a bit of a change from
the Prince's court, squire, " prodded the sergeant. Locklear had looked
the part of a Krondorian dandy - tall, slender, a finely garbed young
man in his mid-twenties, affecting a moustache and long ringlets - when
he reached Tyrsog Locklear thought the moustache and fine clothing made
him look older, but if anything the impact was the opposite of his
desired intent.

Locklear had enough of the sergeant's playful baiting, and observed,
'Still, it's warmer than I remember the other side of the mountains
being. " 'Other side, sir? "asked the sergeant. 'The Northlands, "said
Locklear. 'Even in the spring and summer the nights are cold. "

The sergeant looked askance at the young man. 'You've been there,
squire? "Few men who were not renegades or weapons runners had visited
the Northlands and lived to return to the Kingdom.

With the Prince, "replied Locklear. 'I was with him at Armengar and
Highcastle. "

The sergeant fell silent and looked ahead. The soldiers nearest

Locklear exchanged glances and nods. One whispered to the man behind
him. No soldier living in the north hadn't heard of the fall of

Armengar before the hosts of Murmandamus, the powerful moredhel leader
who had destroyed the human city in the Northlands and then had invaded
the Kingdom. Only his defeat at Sethanon, ten years before, had kept his
army of dark elves, trolls, goblins and giants from rending the Kingdom.

The survivors of Armengar had come to live in Yabon, not far from
Tyr-Sog, and the telling of the great battle and the flight of the
survivors, as well as the part played by Prince Arutha and his
companions, had grown in the telling. Any man who had served

with Prince Arutha and Guy du Bas-Tyra could only be judged a hero. With
a reappraising glance at the young man,* the sergeant kept his silence.

Locklear's amusement at shutting up the voluble sergeant was shortlived,
as the snow started to freshen, blowing harder by the minute. He might
have gained enough stature with the garrison to be treated with more
respect in days to come, but he was still a long way from the court in
Krondor, the fine wines and pretty girls. It would take a miracle for
him to get back in Arutha's good graces any time before the next winter
found him still trapped in a rural court with dullards.

After ten minutes of silent travel, the sergeant said, 'Amother two
miles, sir, and we can start back. "

Locklear said nothing. By the time they returned to the garrison, it
would be dark and even colder than it presently was. He would welcome
the warm fire in the soldiers'commons and probably content himself
sharing a meal with the troops, unless the Baron requested he dine with
the household. Locklear judged that unlikely, as the Baron had a
flirtatious young daughter who had fawned on the visiting young noble
the first night he had appeared in Tyr-Sog, and the

Baron full well knew why Locklear was at his court. On the two occasions
he had since dined with the Baron, the daughter had been conspicuously
absent.

There was an inn not too far from the castle, but by the time he had
returned to the castle, he knew he would be too sick of the cold and
snow to brave the elements again, even for that short distance; besides,
the only two barmaids there were fat and dull. With a silent sigh of
resignation, Locklear realized that by the arrival of spring they might
look lovely and charming to him.

Locklear just prayed he would be permitted to return to Krondor by the
Midsummer Festival of Banapis. He would write to his best friend, Squire
James, and ask him to use his influence to get Arutha to recall him
early. Half a year up here was punishment enough. 'Seigneur, "said
Sergeant Bales, using Locklear's formal title, 'what's that? "He pointed
up the rocky path. Movement among the rocks had caught the sergeant's
eye.

Locklear replied, 'I don't know. Let's go take a look. "

Bales motioned and the patrol turned left, moving up the path.

Quickly the scene before them resolved itself. A lone figure, on foot,
hurried down the rocky path, and from behind the sounds of pursuit could
be heard. 'Looks like a renegade had a falling-out with some Brothers of
the

Dark Path, "said Sergeant Bales.

Locklear pulled his own sword. 'Renegade or not, we can't let the dark
elves carve him up. It might make them think they could come south and
harass common citizens at whim. " 'Ready!"shouted the sergeant and the
veteran patrol pulled swords.

The lone figure saw the soldiers, hesitated a moment, then ran forward.
Locklear could see he was a tall man, covered by a dark grey cloak which
effectively hid his features. Behind him on foot came a dozen dark
elves. 'Let us go amongst them, "said the sergeant calmly.

Locklear commanded the patrol in theory, but he had enough combat
experience to stay out of the way when a veteran sergeant was giving
orders.

The horsemen charged up the pass, moving by the lone figure, to fall
upon the moredhel. The Brotherhood of the Dark Path were many things;
cowardly and inept in warcraft were not among those things. The fighting
was fierce, but the Kingdom soldiers had two advantages: horses, and the
fact the weather had rendered the dark elves' bows useless. The moredhel
didn't even attempt to draw their wet strings, knowing they could hardly
send a bowshaft toward the enemy, let alone pierce armour.

A single dark elf, larger than the rest, leaped atop a rock, his gaze
fixed upon the fleeing figure. Locklear moved his horse to block the
creature, who turned his attention toward the young noble.

They locked gazes for a moment, and Locklear could feel the creature's
hatred. Silently he seemed to mark Locklear, as if remembering him for a
future confrontation. Then he shouted an order and the moredhel began
their withdrawal up the pass.

Sergeant Bales knew better than to pursue into a pass when he had less
than a dozen yards'visibility. Besides, the weather was worsening.

Locklear turned to find the lone figure leaning against a boulder a
short distance behind the trail. Locklear moved his horse dose to the
man and called down, J am Squire Locklear of the Prince's court.

You better have a good story for us, renegade. "

There was no response from the man, his features stiff hidden by the
deep cowl of his heavy cloak. The sounds of fighting trailed off as the
moredhel broke off and fled up the pass, crawling into the rocks above
the path so the riders could not follow.

The figure before Locklear regarded him a moment, then slowly reached up
to throw back his cowl. Dark, alien eyes regarded the young noble. These
were features Locklear had seen before: high brow, close-cropped hair.
Arching eyebrows and large, upswept and lobeless ears. But this was no
elf who stood before him; Locklear could feet it in his bones. The dark
eyes that regarded him could barely hide their contempt.

In heavily accented King's Tongue, the creature said, 'I am no renegade,
human. "

Sergeant Bales rode up and said, 'Damn! A Brother of the Dark

Path. Must have been some tribal thing, with those others trying to kill
him. "

The moredhel fixed Locklear with his gaze, studying him for a long
moment, then he said, 'If you are from the Prince's court then you may
help me. " 'Help you? said the sergeant. We're most likely going to hang
you, murderer. "

Locklear held up his hand for silence. Why should we help you, moredhel?
" 'Because I bring a word of warning for your prince. "

Warning of what? " 'That is for him to know. Will you take me to him? "

Locklear glanced at the sergeant, who said, We should take him to see
the Baron. " 'No, "said the moredhel. 'I will only speak with Prince
Arutha. " 'You'll speak to whoever we tell you to, butched' said Bales,
his voice edged in hatred. He had been fighting the Brotherhood of the

Dark Path his entire life and had seen their cruelty many times.

Locklear said, 'I know his kind. You can set fire to his feet and burn
him up to his neck and if he doesn't want to talk, he won't talk. "

The moredhel said, 'True. "He again studied Locklear and said, 'You have
faced my people? " 'Artnengar,'said Locklear. 'Again at Highcastle. Then
at Sethanon. "

'It is Sethanon about which I need to speak to your prince, "said the
moredhel.

Locklear turned to the sergeant and said, 'Leave us for a moment,

Sergeant. "

Bales hesitated, but there was a note of command in the young noble's
voice, no hint of deference to the sergeant; this was an order.

The sergeant turned and moved his patrol away. 'Say on, "said Locklear.
'I am Gorath, Chieftain of the Ardanien. "

Locklear studied Gorath. By human standards he looked young, but
Locklear had been around enough elves and seen enough moredhel to know
that was deceiving. This one had a beard streaked with white and grey,
as well as a few lines around his eyes; Locklear guessed he might be
better than two hundred years old by what he had seen among elvenkind.
Gorath wore armour that was well crafted and a cloak of especially fine
weave;

Locklear judged it possible he was exactly what he said he was. 'What
does a moredhel chieftain speak of to a prince of the

Kingdom? " 'My words are for Prince Arutha alone. "

Locklear said, 'If you don't want to spend what remains of your life in
the Baron's dungeon at Tyr-Sog, you had better say something that will
convince me to take you to Krondor. "

The moredhel looked a long time at Locklear, then motioned for him to
come closer. Keeping his hand upon a dagger in his belt, should the dark
elf try something, he leaned close to his horse's neck, so he could put
his face near Gorath's.

Gorath whispered in Locklear's ear. 'Murmandamus lives. "

Locklear leaned back and was silent a moment, then he turned his horse.
'Sergeant Bales!" 'Sir!"returned the old veteran, answering Locklear's
commanding tone of voice with a note of respect. 'Put this prisoner in
chains. We return to Tyr-Sog, now. And no one is to speak with him
without my leave. " 'Sir!"repeated the sergeant, motioning to two of his
men to hurry forward and do as ordered.

Locklear leaned over his horse's neck again and said, 'You may be lying
to stay alive, Gorath, or you may have some dreadful message

for Prince Arutha. It matters not to me, for either way I return to

Krondor, starting first thing in the morning. "

The dark elf said nothing, content to stand stoically as he was disarmed
by two soldiers. He remained silent as manacles were fastened around his
wrists, linked by a short span of heavy chain.

He held his hands before him a moment after the manacles were locked,
then slowly lowered them. He looked at Locklear, then turned and began
walking toward Tyr-Sog, without waiting for his guards' leave.

Locklear motioned for the sergeant to follow, and rode up to walk his
horse next to Gorath, through the worsening weather.

ONE

Encounter

T he fire crackled.

Owyn Belefate sat alone in the night before the flames, wallowing in his
personal misery. The youngest son of the

Baron of Timons, he was a long way from home and wishing he was even
farther away. His youthful features were set in a portrait of dejection.

The night was cold and the food scant, especially after having just left
the abundance of his aunt's home in Yabon City. He had been hosted by
relatives ignorant of his falling-out with his father, people who had
reacquainted him over a weeles visit with what he had forgotten about
his home-life: the companionship of brothers and sisters, the warmth of
a night spent before the fire, conversation with his mother, and even
the arguments with his father. 'Father, "Owyn muttered. It had been less
than two years since the young man had defied his father and made his
way to Stardock, the island of magicians located in the southern reaches
of the Kingdom.

His father had forbidden him his choice, to study magic, demanding

Owyn should at least become a cleric of one of the more socially
acceptable orders of priests. After all, they did magic as well, his
father had insisted.

Owyn sighed and gathered his cloak around him. He had been so certain he
would someday return home to visit his family, revealing himself as a
great magician, perhaps a confidant of the legendary

Pug, who had created the Academy at Stardock. Instead he found himself
ill-suited for the study required. He also had no love for the
burgeoning politics of the place, with factions of students rallying
around this teacher or that, attempting to turn the study of magic

into another religion. He now knew he was, at best, a mediocre n1agician
and would never amount to more, and no matter how much he wished to
study magic, he lacked sufficient talent.

After slightly more than one year of study, Owyn had left Stardock,
conceding to himself that he had made a mistake. Admitting such to his
father would prove a far more daunting task - which was why he had
decided to visit family in the distant province of Yabon before
mustering the courage to return to the east and confront his sire.

A rustle in the bushes caused Owyn to clutch a heavy wooden staff and
jump to his feet. He had little skill with weapons, having neglected
that portion of his education as a child, but had developed enough skiff
with this quarterstaff to defend himself. cwho's there? he demanded.

From out of the gloom came a voice, saying, 'Hello, the camp.

We're coming in. "

Owyn relaxed slightly, as bandits would be unlikely to warn him they
were coming. Also, he was obviously not worth attacking, as he looked
little more than a ragged beggar these days. Still, it never hurt to be
wary.

Two figures appeared out of the gloom, one roughly Owyn's height, the
other a head taller. Both were covered in heavy cloaks, the smaller of
the two limping obviously.

The limping man looked over his shoulder, as if being followed, then
asked, 'Who are you? "

Owyn said, 'Me? Who are you? "

The smaller man pulled back his hood and said, 'Locklear, I'm a squire
to Prince Arutha. "

Owyn nodded. 'Sir, I'm Owyn, son of Baron Belefote. " 'From Timons, yes,
I know who your father is, "said Locklear.

Squatting before the fire, opening his hands to warm them. He glanced up
at Owyn. 'You're a long way from home, aren't you? " 'I was visiting my
aunt in Yabon, "said the blond youth. 'I'm now on my way horne. " 'Long
journey, "said the muffled figure. 'I'll work my way down to Krondor,
then see if I can travel with a caravan or someone else to Salador. From
there I'll catch a boat to

Timons. "

Well, we could do worse than stick together until we reach Lamut, "

said Locklear, sitting down heavily on the ground. His cloak fen open
and Owyn saw blood on the young man's clothing. 'You're hurt, "he said.
'Just a bit, "admitted Locklear. 'What happened? "

We were jumped a few miles north of here, "said Locklear.

Owyn started rummaging through his travel bag. 'I have something in here
for wounds, "he said. 'Strip off your tunic. "

Locklear removed his cloak and tunic while Owyn took bandages and powder
from his bag. 'My aunt insisted I take this just in case.

I thought it an old lady's foolishness, but apparently it wasn't. "

Locklear endured the boy's ministrations as he washed the wound
obviously a sword cut to the ribs - and winced when the powder was
sprinkled upon it. Then as he bandaged the squire's ribs, Owyn said,
'Your friend doesn't talk much, does he? "

J am not his friend, "answered Gorath. He held out his manacles for
inspection. 'I am his prisoner. "

Trying to peer into the darkness of Gorath's hood, Owyn said, 'What did
he do? " 'Nothing, -except be born on the wrong side of the mountains, "
offered Locklear.

Gorath pulled back his hood, and graced Owyn with the faintest of
smiles. 'Gods' teeth!"exclaimed Owyn. 'He's a Brother of the Dark

Path!" 'Moredhel, "corrected Gorath, with a note of ironic bitterness.
'"Dark elf ", in your tongue, human. At least our cousins in Elvandar
would have you believe us so. "

Locklear winced as Owyn applied his aunt's salve to the wounded ribs. 'A
couple of hundred years of war lets us form our own opinions, thank you,
Gorath. "

Gorath said, 'You understand so little, you humans. "

Well, "said Locklear, 'I'm not going anywhere at the moment, so educate
me. "

Gorath looked at the young squire, as if trying to judge something, and
was silent for a while. 'Those you call "elves" and my people are one,
by blood, but we live different lives. We were the first mortal race
after the great dragons and the Ancient Ones. "

owyn looked at Gorath in curiosity, while Locklear just gritted his
teeth and said, 'Hurry it up, would you, lad? "

Who are the Ancient Ones? "asked Owyn in a whisper.

The Dragon Lords, "said Locklear. 'Lords of power, the Valheru,
"supplied Gorath. AVHEN they departed this world, they placed our fate
in our own hands, naming us a free people. "

Locklear said, 'I've heard the story. " 'It is more than a story, human,
for to my people it gave over this world to our keeping. Then came you
humans, and the dwarves, and others. This is our world and you seized it
from us. "

Locklear said, Well, I'm not a student of theology, and my knowledge of
history is sadly lacking, but it seems to me that whatever the cause of
our arrival on this world according to your lore, we're here and we
don't have anywhere else to go. So if your kin, the elves, can make the
best of it, why can't you? "

Gorath studied the young man, but said nothing. Then he stood, moving
with deadly purpose toward Locklear.

Owyn had just tied off the bandage and fell hard as Locklear pushed him
aside while he attempted to rise and draw his sword as Gorath closed on
him.

But rather than attack Locklear, he lunged past the pair of humans,
lashing out above Locklear's head with the chain that held his manacles.
A ringing of steel caused Locklear to flinch aside as

Gorath shouted, 'Assassin in the camp!"Then Gorath kicked hard at Owyn,
shouting, 'Get out from underfoot!"

Owyn didn't know where the assassin came from; one moment there had been
three of them in the small clearing, then the next Gorath was locked in
a life-and-death struggle with another of his kind.

Two figures grappled by the light of the campfire, their features set in
stark relief by the firelight and darkness of the woods. Gorath had
knocked the other moredhel's sword from his hand, and when the second
dark elf attempted to pull a dagger, Gorath slipped behind him, wrapping
his wrist chains around the attacker's throat.

He yanked hard and the attacker's eyes bulged in shock as Gorath said,
'Do not struggle so, Haseth. For old times' sake I will make this quick.
"With a snap of his wrists, he crushed the other dark elf s windpipe,
and the creature went limp.

Gorath let him fall to the ground, saying, 'May the Goddess of

Darkness show you mercy. "

Locklear stood up. 'I thought we had lost them. " 'I knew we had not,
"said Gorath.

Why didn't you say something?'demanded Locklear as he retrieved his
tunic and put it on over the new bandages.

We had to turn and face him some time, "said Gorath, resuming his place.
We could do it now, or in a day or two when you were even weaker from
loss of blood and no food. "Gorath looked into the darkness from which
the assassin had come. 'Had he not been alone, you'd have had only my
body to drag before your prince. " 'You don't get off that easily,
moredhel. You don't have my permission to die yet, after the trouble
I've gone through to keep you alive so far, "said Locklear. 'Is he the
last? " 'Almost certainly not, "said the dark elf. 'But he is the last
of this company. Others will come. "He glanced in the opposite
direction. 'And others may already be ahead of us. "

Locklear reached into a small pouch at his side and produced a key.
'Then I think you'd better get those chains off' he said. He unlocked
the wrist irons and Gorath watched them fall to the ground with an
impassive expression. 'Take the assassin's sword. " 'Maybe we should
bury him? "suggested Owyn.

Gorath shook his head. 'That is not our way. His body is but a shell.

Let it feed the scavengers, return to the soil, nourish the plants, and
renew the world. His spirit has begun its journey through darkness, and
with the Goddess of Darkness's pleasure, he may find his way to the
Blessed Isles. "Gorath looked northward, as if seeking sight of
something in the dark. 'He was my kinsman, though one of whom

I was not overly fond. But ties of blood run strong with my people.

For him to hunt me names me outcast and traitor to my race. "He looked
at Locklear. We have common cause, then, human. For if I am to carry out
the mission that brands me anathema to my people,

I must survive. We need to help one another! Gorath took Haseth's sword.
To Owyn he said, 'Don't bury him, but you could pull him out of the way,
human. By morning he's going to become even more unpleasant to have
nearby. "

Owyn looked uncertain about touching a corpse, but said nothing as he
went over, reached down and gripped the dead moredhel by the

wrists. The creature was surprisingly heavy. As Owyn started to drag

Haseth away, Gorath said, 'And see if he dropped his travel bag back
there in the woods before he attacked us, boy. He may have something to
eat in it. "

Owyn nodded, wondering what strange chance had brought him to dragging a
corpse through the dark woods and looting the body.

Morning found a tired trio making their way through the woodlands,
staying within sight of the road, but not chancing walking openly along
it. 'I don't see why we didn't return to Yabon and get some horses, "
complained Owyn.

Locklear said, We have been jumped three times since leaving

Tyr-Sog. If others are coming after us, I'd rather not walk right into
them. Besides, we may find a village between here and Lamut where we can
get some horses. " 'And pay for them with what? "asked Owyn. 'You said
the fight where you were wounded was when your horses ran off with all
your things. I assume that means your funds, too? I certainly don't have
enough to buy three mounts. "

Locklear smiled. 'I'm not without resources. "

We could just take them, "offered Gorath. 'There is that, "agreed
Locklear. 'But without obvious badges of rank or a patent from the
Prince on MY person, it might prove difficult to convince the local
constable of my bona fides. And we should hardly be safe penned up in a
rural jail with cutthroats out looking for us. "

Owyn fell silent. They had been walking since sun-up and he was tired.
'How about a rest?'he offered. 'I don't think so, "said Gorath, his
voice falling to a whisper.

Usten. "

Neither human said anything for a moment, then Owyn said,

What? I don't hear anything. " 'That's the point, "said Gorath. 'The
birds in the trees ahead suddenly stopped their songs. " 'A trap? "asked
Locklear. 'Almost certainly, "said Gorath, pulling the sword he had
taken from his dead kinsman.

Locklear said, 'My side burns, but I can fight. "To Owyn he said, 'What
about you? "

Owyn hefted his wooden staff. It was hard oak, with iron-shod ends. 'I
can swing this, if I need to. And I have some magic. " 'Can you make
them vanish? " 'No, "said Owyn. J can't do that. " 'Pity, "said
Locklear. 'Then try to stay out of the way. "

They advanced cautiously, and as they neared the spot Gorath had
indicated, Locklear could make out a shadowy figure between the trees.
The man or moredhel - Locklear couldn't tell which - moved slightly,
revealing his position. Had he remained motionless, Locklear would never
have seen him.

Gorath signalled for Locklear and Owyn to move more to their right,
looping around behind the lookout. Without knowing how many men they
faced, they would do well to seek the advantage of surprise.

Gorath moved through the woods like a spirit, silent and almost unseen
once Owyn and Locklear left him. Locklear signalled for

Owyn to keep slightly behind and to the right of him, so he knew where
he was when they dosed upon their ambushers.

As they moved through the woods, they heard the sound of whispers, and
Locklear knew no elves waiting for them would utter a word. Now the
question was were these mere bandits or agents seeking to stop Gorath's
journey.

A grunt from ahead signalled Gorath's first contact with the ambushers.
A shout followed instantly and Locklear and Owyn ran forward.

Four men stood and one was already dying. The other three spread out in
a small clearing between two lines of trees, a perfect position for a
roadside ambush. Locklear felt an odd flicker behind him and something
sped past his eyes, as if an arrow had been fired from behind, but other
than the sensation of motion, there was nothing to be seen.

One of the three remaining ambushers cried out in shock, his hand going
out before him as vacant eyes stared ahead, 'I'm blind!" he shouted in
panic.

Locklear decided it was Owyn's useful magic, and thanked the

Goddess of Luck the boy had that much talent.

Gorath was engaged with one man while Locklear advanced on the other.
Suddenly their garb registered and he said, 'Quegans!"

The men were wearing short tunics and leggings, and cross-gartered
sandals. The man facing Locklear had his head covered with a red
bandanna, and over his shoulder hung a baldric from which a cutlass had
hung. The cutlass was now carving through the air at Locklear's head.

He parried and the blow shot fire through his wounded side.

Putting aside his pain, Locklear riposted and the pirate fell back.

A strangled cry told Locklear the second pirate was down.

The strange missile sensation sped by and the man facing Locklear winced
and held his hand up as if shielding his eyes. Locklear didn't hesitate
and ran the man through.

Gorath killed the last man and suddenly it was quiet again in the woods.

Locklear's side was afire but he didn't feel any additional damage.

He put up his sword and said, 'Damn me. " 'Are you hurt? "asked Owyn.
'No, "answered Locklear. 'Then what is the problem? asked Owyn.

Locklear looked around the clearing. 'These are the problem.

Someone has gotten word ahead of us. We can be certain of that. " 'How?
asked Gorath. 'These are Quegan pirates, "said Locklear. 'Look at their
weapons ' 'I wouldn't know a Quegan if I tripped over him, "said Owyn.
'I'll take your word for it, squire. " 'Do not pirates usually ply their
trade at sea? asked Gorath. 'They do, "said Locklear, 'unless someone's
paid them to stake out a road and wait for three travellers on foot. "He
knelt next to the man who had died at his feet and said, 'Look at his
hands. Those are the hands of a man used to handling rope. Those Quegan
cutlasses are the clincher. "He examined the man, looking for a

Pouch or purse, saying, 'Look for anything that might be a message

They did and came away with a little gold and a couple of daggers in
addition to the four cutlasses. But no messages or notes, nothing
indicating who had hired the pirates. We're not dose enough to Ylith

for a band of pirates to have made it this far north undetected in the
time since we left Yabon. " 'Someone must have sent word south when I
left the Northlands, " said Gorath. 'But how? "asked Owyn. 'You've told
me you only spent a couple of days in Tyr-Sog, and you were riding until
yesterday. " 'That's an odd question for a student of magic, "observed
Gorath.

Owyn blushed a little. 'Oh. " 'You've Spellweavers who can do
such?'asked Locklear. 'Not such as the eledhel - those you call "elves"
- call Spellweivers.

But we have our practitioners of magic. And there are others of your
race who will sell their arts. "

Owyn said, 'I've never witnessed it, but I have heard of a talent called
"mind speech" which allows a spell-caster to speak with another.

And there's something known as "dream speech" as well. Either -'
'Someone really wants you dead, don't they? "observed Locklear,
interrupting the boy. 'Delekhan, "said Gorath. 'And he was gathering to
his side any of my people who showed such talents. I know his goals, but
not his plan. And if magic arts are part of it, I fear the results. "

Locklear said, 'I understand that. I've had my share of encounters with
people using magic who shouldn't. "He glanced at Owyn and said, That
blinding trick was quite good, lad. "

Looking embarrassed, Owyn said, 'I thought it might help. I know a few
spells like that, but nothing that would overpower an enemy.

Still, I'll try to help where I can. "

Glancing at Owyn, Locklear said, 'I know. Let's get to Lamut. "

Lamut stood astride the road south, requiring anyone travelling from

Yabon to Ylith to pass through its gates or endure a long trek to the
east throueh danlyerous foothills.

The foulbourgh of the city sprawled in all directions, while the old
walls of the city stood behind, nearly useless now, given the ease with
which any attacker could mount the buildings next to them and gain the
parapet from their roofs.

It was nearly sundown and all three travellers were tired, footsore, and
hungry. We can present ourselves to Earl Kasumi tomorrow. "

Why not now? "asked Owyn. 'I could use a meal and a bed. "

'Because the garrison is up there, "said Locklear, pointing at a distant
fortress high above the city on a hillside, 'and that would be another
two hours'walk, whereas a cheap inn is but one minute that way. "He
pointed at the gate.

Will your countrymen object to my presence? "asked Gorath. 'They would
if they suspected your nature. If they think you an elf from Elvandar,
they may only stare a little. Come on. We've looted enough gold for a
night of relative comfort, and in the morning we'll visit the Earl and
see if he can get us safely to Krondor. "

They entered the city under the watchful gaze of otherwise boredlooking
soldiers. One of them stood out from his companions, being shorter, and
much more businesslike in his manner. Locklear smiled and nodded at the
guards, but the three travellers didn't stop or speak.

A short distance inside the city gates sat an inn, marked by a wagon
wheel painted bright blue. There, "said Locklear.

They entered the inn, busy, but not crowded, and moved to a table near
the far wall. As they sat a stout young serving woman came, took their
order for food and ale, and left. As they were waiting, Locklear spied a
figure on the other side of the room staring at him.

It took a moment for Locklear to realize the figure wasn't a man, but a
dwarf. The dwarf stood and made his way across the room. He bore a large
scar across his face, cutting through his left eye. He stood before them
and said, 'You don't recognize me, do you, Locky? "

Locklear realized the last time he had seen the dwarf he had not borne
the scar he now sported, but at hearing his name from the dwarfs lips,
he said, 'Dubal! Without the eye-patch, it took me a moment. "

The dwarf moved to sit next to Owyn, across from Gorath. J won this face
in battle, from one of his kin -'he pointed at Gorath'- and

I'll be a dragon's mother before I hide it again. " 'Dubal found me
hiding in a cellar after the Battle of Sethanon, " said Locklear.
'Locked in there with a pretty wench, if memory serves.'The dwarf
laughed.

Locklear shrugged. Well, that was by chance. "

Dubal said, 'Now tell me, what is a seigneur of the Prince's court doing
sitting in Lamut with a moredhel warchieff He kept

his voice low, but Owyn glanced around to see if anyone had overheard
him. 'You know me? "asked Gorath. 'I know your race, for you are the
enemy of my blood, and I know your armour for what it is. A human might
not notice, but we of the

Grey Towers have fought your kind long enough 1 wouldn't mistake you for
one from Elvandar. It's only your present company that keeps me from
killing you here and now. "

Locklear held up his hand. 'I would count it a kindness and a personal
favour, as would Prince Arutha, should you imagine this person on my
left to be an elf' 'I think I can manage. But you'll have to come to the
Grey Towers and tell me the story behind this mummery. " 'If I can, I
will, "said Locklear. 'Now, what brings you alone to

Lamut? " 'We've got problems at our mines and had a collapse. Some of us
are stuck on this side of the Grey Towers and I came in to the city to
buy some stores. I'll hire a waggon and head back in the morning.

For the time being, I'm content to sit and drink, and jabber with some
of these Tsuram here in Lamut. I fought them during the war, and they've
turned out to be a stalwart enough bunch once you get to know them. "He
pointed to the bar. 'That tall fellow -' Locky laughed to hear anyone
call a Tsurani 'tall" - he's Sumani, the owner. Has a fair number of
tales to spin about his days serving on the Tsurani world, and I'm
switched if it doesn't sound like he's telling the truth most of the
time. "

Locklear laughed. 'Most Tsurani I know don't indulge in tall tales,
Dubal. " 'Seems to be so, but you never know. I've fought the big bugs,
the Cho-ja, but some of those other things he talks about, wen, I'm
hard-pressed to believe them. "

The serving woman arrived with the food and ale and they fell to. 'Now,
"said Dubal, 'can you tell me what brings you here? " 'No, "replied
Locklear, 'but we can ask you if you've seen any

Quegans hanging around? " 'There was a pack of them through here two
days ago, according to the gossip, "said Dubal. 'I just arrived and was
brokering the material we need. Aren't Quegans a bit far from home? "

You could say that, "observed Locklear. We ran into some and wolldered
if they had friends. "

Well, according to the gossip, they were all heading north from here, so
if you didn't run into a big bunch, theyve got friends around. "

Locklear said, 'That's as I figured. "

They ate in silence for a while, as Dubal nursed his mug of ale.

Then the dwarf said, 'You wouldn't have run across one of those

Armengar monster hunters coming from the north, have you? " 'Monster
hunter? asked Owyn.

Locklear said, 'Beast Hunter, is what he means. I met one, once. "

He smiled at the memory. They had been travelling with Prince

Arutha away from a band of moredhel, and had run into a Beast

Hunter from Armengar with his Beast Hound. It had been a trap, but it
had saved them from the pursuing moredhel. 'No, I think those that
remain are up in the hills of northern Yabon. Why?." 'Oh, we've got a
Brak Nurr loose in the mine and need someone to hunt it down for us. We
can either rebuild the mine or hunt the thing, but there aren't enough
of us on this side of the mountain to do both. " 'What's a Brak Nurr?
"asked Owyn. 'I've never heard of such a creature. " 'It's more a
nuisance than a menace, "said Dubal. 'It's a pretty stupid creature, but
most of their kind stay in the lower mines and tunnels under the
mountain. It's roughly man-shaped, but looks like a walking pile of
rocks. That's part of its danger, boy, "Dubal said to

Owyn. 'You can't see one until you've stepped on its toes, as often as
not. Theyre slow and lumbering, but they're strong and can crush a man's
skull with a single blow. This one came up because of the rockslide, I
think, but whatever the cause, it's tried to hurt a couple of our lads.
We've chased it off, but can't take the time to hunt it down. If you're
up for a bit of fun, I can take you along and if you rid the mines of
it, I'll be happy to see you rewarded. " Reward? "said Locky. 'That's
always a good word, but time doesn't permit. If circumstances bring us
to the mines any time soon, we'll be glad to help, but for the moment,
we're heading south. "

Dubal stood. 'I understand. Once we get the tunnels finished, we'll go
looking for the beastie. Now, I'm for bed and an early start. It was

good seeing you again, squire, even in such company as this, "he said,
indicating Gorath. 'Good fortune follow you. " 'And you, Dubal. "

Locklear finished eating and rose to approach the innkeeper.

The innkeeper wore a Kingdom-style tunic and trousers, the latter tucked
into high-top calfskin boots. But he wore a fur-lined, woven-wool heavy
cloak, though it was thrown back, as if even in this warm inn it was too
cold for his liking. 'Sir? "asked the innkeeper, his heavy accent making
the word sound odd to Locklear. 'Honours to your house, "said Locklear
in Tsurani.

The man smiled and said something in return. Locklear smiled and
shrugged. 'Sorry, that was all the Tsurani I know. "

The man's smile broadened. 'More than most, "he said. 'You're not from
Lamut, "he observed. 'True. I learned a little of your native tongue at
Sethanon. " 'Ah, "said the innkeeper, nodding in understanding. Few who
were at Sethanon spoke of what had occurred there, mostly because few
understood it. At the height of the battle a great upheaval had driven
both armies, invaders and defenders, fleeing from the city. A green
light from the heavens and the appearance of something in the sky,
followed by the destruction of the centre of the city, had rendered most
men stunned, and a few deaf, after the battle. No one was certain what
had happened, though most conceded a great magic had been unleashed.
Most speculated the magician Pug, a friend of the

Prince, had a hand in it, but no one seemed to know for certain.

Locklear had missed most of the end of the battle, being hidden in a
cellar in the city, but he had heard enough accounts from other
eyewitnesses to have formed a pretty clear picture in his own mind.

And there was a special bond among those who had survived the

Battle of Sethanon, irrespective of their place of birth, for it had
been Tsurani, Kingdom, and even Keshian soldiers, who had driven the
moredhel and their goblin allies back into the Northlands. 'What I
said,'explained the innkeeper, 'was "Honour to your houses, and be
welcome to the Blue Wheel Inn"." 'Blue Wheel? That's one of your Tsurani
political parties, isn't it? "

The innkeeper's broad face split into a smile, revealing even white
teeth. His dark eyes seemed to glint in the lanternlight. 'You do

knoxv of us!"He extended his hand, Kingdom fashion, and said, 'I am
Sumani. If there is anything that my servants or I may do, you need only
ask. "

Locklear shook the innkeeper's hand and said, 'A room for the night
after we finish our meal would serve. We have business in the castle
tomorrow at dawn. "

The stocky ex-fighter nodded. 'You're in luck, my friend. Last night I
would have had to express my regrets and endure the shame of being
unable to ffilfil your request. We were full, but this morning a large
party departed and we have rooms. "He reached under the bar and produced
a heavy iron key. 'On my home world this would have been worth a man's
life; here it is but a tool. "

Locklear nodded, understanding the scarcity of metals on Kelewan.

He took the key. 'Large partyy 'Yes, "said Sumani. 'Foreigners. Quegans,
I believe. Their speech was strange -to my ear. "

Locklear looked around the obviously prosperous inn. 'How did a

Tsurani soldier end up running an inn in Lamut? 'After the war, Earl
Kasumi gave those of us who had been trapped on this side of the rift
the opportunity to live as Kingdom citizens.

When the rift was reopened, he gave those of us here in Lamut the choice
of leaving service and returning to the Shinzawai estates on

Kelewan. Most stayed, though some left service and returned to serve
again with Kasumi's father, Lord Kamatsu. A few of us, however, retired
here in Lamut. I had no living family back home. "He glanced around.
'And to tell the truth, I live better here than I would have back home.
There, I might have become a farmer, or a labourer on the

Shinzawai estates. "He pointed through the open door to the kitchen to
where a tall, stout woman was hard at work preparing food. 'Here,

I have a Kingdom wife. We have two children. Life is good. And I am part
of the citys militia, so I still train with my sword. The gods of both
worlds smile on me and I prosper. I find business to be as challenging
as warfare. "

Locklear smiled. 'I have no head for business, though I have been told
it often is like warfare. What gossip?

The old former fighter said, 'Much. Many travellers in Lamut over the
last month. Much speculation. A large party of Great

Ones came through here last week. And it is rumoured some

brigands from my home world, grey warriors, have also been seen near the
city. " 'Grey warriors?'asked Locklear. 'Houseless men? What would they
be doing here in Lamut? "

Sumani shrugged. 'It may be those without honour have heard that here a
man may rise by his own wits and talents, and not be bound by his rank
at birth. Or it may be they are seeking riches in this land.

With a grey warrior, who can say? "A frown crossed Sumani's face. 'What?
"asked Locklear.

Just this one thing: the rift is controlled by those who serve the

Great Ones on Kelewan, and Kingdom soldiers guard the gate on this side.
To pass through, these grey warriors would have to have documents, or
allies among those guarding the rift gate. " 'Bribes? "asked Locklear.
'Here, perhaps. I've found in the Kingdom the concept of honour is
different than at home. But betrayal from the servants of the Great

Ones? "He shook his head. 'That is impossible. " 'Thanks, "said
Locklear, smelling a puzzle. 'I'll keep my eyes and ears open.

The Tsurani laughed. 'That is a funny thing to say, "he observed. 'Let
me know if I may be of any further service. "

Locklear nodded. He took a lantern from the innkeeper and returned to
the table. Gorath and Owyn rose, and Locklear led his companions up the
stairs to a simple room with four beds.

He motioned for Owyn to help him move one of the beds across the door,
barring it against a sudden attack, then he moved another directly below
the window. 'Owyn,'he said, pointing to the bed under the window, 'you
sleep there. "

Why? "asked the young man from Timons. 'It's draughty under there. "

Gorath looked on with a slight turn to his lip, as if amused, as

Locklear answered, 'Because if anyone climbs in through the window,
theyll step on you and your shouts will alert us. "

Grumbling, Owyn wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and lay down.
Locklear indicated one of the beds to Gorath, who lay upon it without
comment. Locklear sat on his bed and blew out the flame in the lantern,
plunging the room into darkness. Voices from the common room below
carried upstairs, and Locklear let his mind

JA

wander. The presence of foreigners and the attack by the Quegans worried
him, and the rumour of Tsurani grey warriors in the area caused him
additional concern, but fatigue and his injury caused him to quickly
fall asleep.

h

TWO

Deception

T he soldier waved them in. 'You may enter, "he informed Locklear.

Locklear led his companions into the guardroom of the castle.

They had approached the castle on foot, after an earlymorning climb up a
long, winding road from the city. He was doubly glad they had chosen to
spend the night in the city. His ribs still hurt, but after a night's
sleep in a relatively warm bed and two meals, and he was feeling twice
as fit as he had the day before.

The captain of the castle guard looked up as they entered and said,
'Squire Locklear, isn't it? " 'Yes, Captain Belford, "said Locklear,
accepting the captain's hand.

We met when I passed through on my way north a few months back. " 'I
remember, "said the captain with a half-hidden grin. Locklear knew the
captain must have heard the rumour of the reason for his banishment to
the north. 'What can I do for you? " 'I'd like to see the Earl, if he
has the time. " 'I'm sure he'd love to see you again, sir, but the
Earl's not here, " said the seasoned old fighter. 'He's off on some
errand with a troop of men - all Tsurani-bred - leaving me here to take
care of things. " 'The Countess? "asked Locklear, inquiring after
Kasumi's wife. 'Down in the city, actually. Shopping and visiting with
her family. "

Earl Kasumi had married the daughter of one of Lamut's more prosperous
merchants. 'If you need something official, you can wait until one of
them gets back or ask me, squire. As long as you don't need an armed
escort somewhere. "

Locklear grimaced. 'I had been thinking about asking for some men to
accompany us down to Ylith. "

Wish I could oblige, squire, and if you've the Prince's warrant with
you, I'd scrape together a dozen swords for you, but as it is, the
Earl's off training recruits, I've got my usual patrols along the
frontier, and the rest of the lads are out looking for a bunch of
Tsurani renegades. "

Owyn said, 'Renegades? "Locklear had mentioned nothing of the

Tsurani grey warriors to his companions. 'I heard some rumours,'was all
Locklear said.

The captain motioned for the three of them to sit. Owyn was left
standing when Gorath and Locklear took the only two free chairs in the
office. 'I wish it was only rumours, "said Belford. 'You know that

Tsurani magician, Makala? " 'By reputation only, "said Locklear. 'He was
due to arrive in Krondor a few weeks after I departed some months ago.
The other Tsurani

Great Ones spoke of him, but as they weren't the most sociable bunch, I
only gathered a few things about him. He's very influential in their
Assembly of Magicians, is keen to foster trade and what I believe the
Prince is calling "cultural exchanges" between the Empire of Tsuranuanni
and the Kingdom, and he was personally coming for a visit. "

Well, he did that, "said the captain. 'He arrived here a few days ago
and called on the Earl. Every Tsurani of any rank does that, as the
Earl's father is very important on the Tsurani home world. So it's a
duty thing. "The old captain rubbed his beard-stubbled chin with a
gloved hand. 'The Tsurani are very deep into "duty', I have learned in
my time with the Earl. Anyway, they were here for a couple of days,

Makala, some other Black Robes, and honour guards and bearers and the
bunch, and it seems some of the bearers weren't really bearers, but were
some kind of dishonoured warriors from the Empire. " 'Grey warriors,
"said Locklear. 'I heard. "That would explain how the grey warriors got
through the rift, thought Locklear, disguised as bearers. 'That's who my
lads are looking for. Rumour is they fled east.

If they get over the mountains and into the Dimwood, we'll never find
them. "

Why the fass? "asked Owyn. 'Are they slaves or indentured? "

'Squire? "said the captain pointedly. 'He's the son of the Baron of
Tirnons, "explained Locklear.

Well, young sir, "said the captain, 'th-ese men are something like
outlaws on their own world, which by itself isn't enough to have me
chasing after them, but here they stole something of value to this

Makala - a ruby of some rarity, I gather - and he's making enough of a
filss about it that you'd think the go, ds themselves lent it to hini
and he's got to take it back in a week. S(> the Earl, some because he's
polite, and some because he's Tsurani an-d used to jumping whenever one
of those Black Robes barks, he's got us combing the hills looking for
those bastards. "

Locklear smiled at Owyn, as if aski@ng if that was explanation enough.
The captain looked at Gorath, as if expecting him to say something.
Gorath remained silen-t. Locklear didn ) t know if the captain
recognized the moredhel for what he was or thought him an elf, and
didn't see the need to explain things to him. The captain said, 'What
would you need an escort for, if I may make so bold as to ask? "

We've had some problems, "said Locklear. 'Someone's hired

Quegan swords to keep us from reaching Krondor. "

The captain stroked his chin again and remained silent a long moment as
he thought. 'Here's one thing I can do, "he said. 'I've got to run a
patrol out to the border with the Free Cities. I can have you travel
with it until it turns westwar-d, almost half-way between

Lamut and Zfin- That'll get you part of the way in safety. "

Locklear was silent a moment, then s2id, 'I have a better idea. "

Tv'hat? asked Captain Belford. 'If you can pick three men to play our
parts, and ride conspicuously out the south city gate, we'll head east
and slip over the mountain and head south to Krondor along the east
mountain highway, where we won't be expected. " 'A ruse? "asked the
captain. 'One I learned from the Prince, "said Locklear. 'He used it to
good effect in the Riftwar. If you can lead away those looking for us,
long enough for us to reach the far side of the mountains, we should be
safe. " 'I can arrange that. "He glanced at Owyn and Gorath. 'I've got
some men who can pass for you, if we keep the hood up on the one

playing your elf friend, here. "He stood up. 'Let me arrange to have the
evening patrol stop by your lodgings F He looked at them questioningly.
'The Inn of the Blue Wheel. "

Belford smiled. 'Sumani's place. Don't let his smiling countenance fool
you; he's a tough boot. If you get the time, have him show you some of
his fighting tricks. He'll make time for a few coins. His decision not
to stay in service was our loss. "

The captain left and returned a short time later. 'It's taken care of

Head back to the city and let anyone who might be following you see you
return. Lie low in the inn until tonight and I'll have three horses
waiting for you in the inn's stable. "He handed Locklear a piece of
parchment. 'Here's a pass. If one of our lads on the road to the east
stops you, this will set him right. "

Locklear rose. 'Thank you, captain. You've been a great help. If there's
anything I can do for you when you're next in Krondor, please tell me. "

The old captain smiled. Rubbing his chin once more he said, Well, you
could introduce me to that merchant's young wife I hear got you run up
this way in the first place. "

Owyn grinned and Gorath remained impassive as Locklear blushed and
grimaced. 'I'll see what I can do. "They rose and departed the office.

Owyn said, We walk? "

We walk, "said Locklear as they headed for the main gate of the cdsde.
'But at least it's downhill. "

Gorath said, 'That is actually more tiring. "

Locklear swore. 'It was a joke. "

Gorath said, 'Really@' His tone was so dry it took a moment for

Owyn to realize he was twitting Locklear. Owyn kept his own mirth in
check and they started back toward the city.

Locklear slipped through the door into their room. Gorath looked up
without alarm, but Owyn jumped off the bed. Where have

You been? " 'Nosing around. Sitting up here might be smarter, but I've
got this itch to scratch. "

Gorath looked on, but still said nothing.

Owyn said, 'Itch?

Locklear smiled. 'Too many years of keeping the wrong sort of company, I
suppose, but the reports of those grey warriors and the theft of some
sort of rich item dear to a Tsuram Great One had me thinking. If I stole
something on a different world, how would

I dispose of it? " 'Depends on what it is, I guess, "offered Owyn.

Gorath gave a slight nod, but stiff said nothing. 'There would have to
be a local contact, someone who knew where one disposes of something of
value. " 'And you expect to discover this person in the midst of the
throng of this city and use him to trace this band of thieves? "asked
Gorath. 'No, "said Locklear waving away the comment. 'The captain said
the stolen item is a gem, which being from Kelewan isn't a shock.

There isn't much on that world of value that's also easy to transport
that would fetch a high value here. So my thinking is that the best way
to find this missing gem is to learn where it's most likely to end up. "
'A fence? "asked Owyn. 'No, for if as I suspect the value of the ruby is
enough to give a band of desperate men a new start on a strange world,
it would have to be the sort of man who has a legitimate enterprise, one
likely to mask the movement of this itern. " 'You seem to understand
this sort of business better than a noble of your race should, "observed
Gorath. 'I said I kept the wrong sort of company. After buying a few
drinks,

I discovered there's a merchant with less than a stellar reputation who
deals in gems, jewellery, and other luxury items. He's a man named

Kiefer Alescook. "

Who told you this? "asked Owyn. 'Our host, actually, "said Locklear,
motioning it was time for them to depart. They rose and gathered their
gear, and moved out down the stairs to the common room. With a wave
goodbye to Sumani, they moved through the door. Once outside the inn,
Locklear motioned for them to walk around the corner to the stabling
yard next to the inn. They moved inside the door and found three men
waiting for them, each holding two horses.

One said, 'Switch cloaks, quickly!"

Each was of a like height with Locklear and his companions and

the ex, hange was made. If the man playing the part of Gorath had any
notion of whom he was impersonating, he kept such thoughts to himself,
merely handing Gorath a large blue cloak, taking the dark grey one worn
by the moredhel. The others switched cloaks and

Locklear took the reins of one of the horses.

By the time the three impostors were mounted, the sound of hooves on the
stones announced the arrival of the patrol that would head down toward
Ain this evening. From outside the gate of the stabling yard, a sergeant
shouted, We're here to escort you south,

Squire Locklead'

Locklear took his cue and shouted back, We're ready!"He nodded to the
three men impersonating them who rode off and joined the van of the
column. Locklear waited and after a few minutes said, 'Owyn, you ride
out, turn left and head straight out the gate. Ride a mile, then wait.
Gorath and I will be behind you by a few minutes. "

Gorath grunted his approval. 'So should anyone linger, he won't see
three riders. "

Locklear nodded and Owyn said,'Hold this, please.'He handed his
quarterstaff to Locklear, climbed into the saddle, then took the long
oaken pole back. With a deft movement, he slung it over his shoulder,
through his belt, then twisted it, so it hung across his shoulders and
back, not encumbering him or the horse too much.

Gorath easily mounted, though he looked slightly ill at ease. 'Don't
ride much? "asked Locklear as Owyn departed. 'Not really. It's been a
while, thirty or so years. " 'Not a lot of horses in the Northlands? "

Without bitterness, Gorath said, 'Not a lot of anything in the

Northlands. "

Locklear said, J remember. "

Gorath nodded. We bled at Armengar. "

Locklear said, 'Not enough. It didn't keep you from coming through
Highcastle. "

Gorath pointed with his chin. We should go now. "He didn't wait for
Locklear, but put heels to the sides of his horse and rode out.

Locklear hesitated a moment, then followed after. He overtook the dark
elf as he rode easily through the foot traffic of the city. Men hurried
home for evening meals while shops dosed on every side.

Travellers fresh in from the highway hurried toward the inn, eager

to wash away the days trail dust with an ale, and women of the night
began to appear on street corners.

Locklear and Owyn rode out the gate, ignored by the guards, and set
their horses to cantering. A few minutes later they spied Owyn sitting
on the side of the road.

When they reached him, he turned and said, 'Now what? "

Locklear pointed toward a stand of woods a short distance away. 'A cold
camp, unfortunately, but at first light we ride north a few miles.

There's a mine road to the east that leads over the mountains. We'll
take that, then turn south on the other side. With luck we'll avoid
those seeking our friend here and make our way safely to the King's

Highway south of Quester's View. "

Owyn said, 'That means we're going to come out near Loriel, right? "
'Yes, "said Locklear, with a smile. Which means we'll have the chance to
visit one Kiefer Alescook along the way. "

Why involve ourselves in this matter? "asked Gorath. We need to hurry to
Krondor. "

We are, and a few minutes' conversation with Master Alescook may yield
u's a benefit. Should we discover the whereabouts of this missing gem,
we win credit with Prince Arutha, for I am certain he wishes to be a
gracious host to the visiting magicians from

Kelewan. " 'And if we don't? "asked Owyn as they rode toward the woods.
'Then I still have to come up with a compelling reason why I left

Tyr-Sog without his leave and returned with only this moredhel and an
unlikely story. "

Owyn sighed aloud. Well, you think of one to tell my father when

I get back home and I'll try to come up with something to tell the

Prince. "

Gorath chuckled at this.

Owyn and Locklear exchanged glances. Locklear shook his head in the
evening gloom. He had never considered the dark elves might have a sense
of humour.

The wind was cold in the passes, for as winter was coming, in the
elevations above them snow already clung tenaciously to the rocks and
ice lurked in depressions in the road, making the footing dangerous.

They rode slowly, Locklear and Owyn both with their cloaks pulled
tightly around them. Gorath kept his hood up, but rode without apparent
discomfort. 'How much longer? "asked Owyn, his teeth chattering. 'A
half-hour less than the last time you asked, "said Locklear.
'Squire,'said Owyn. 'I'm freezing. "

Locklear said, 'Really. How unusual. "

Gorath held up his hand. 'Quiet, "he said softly, with just enough
authority and volume to carry to his companions, but no farther. He
pointed up ahead. 'In the rocks, "he whispered.

Whatfasked Locklear in hushed tones.

Gorath only pointed. He held up four fingers. 'Maybe theyre bandits,
"whispered Owyn. 'Theyre speaking my tongue, "said Gorath.

Locklear sighed. 'Theyre covering all the roads, then. " 'How do we
proceed? "asked Owyn.

Pulling his sword, Gorath said, We kill them.'He spurred his horse
forward, with Locklear hesitating only an instant before following.

Owyn reached up and quickly pulled out his staff, tucking it under his
arm like a lance, then urging his horse forward. He heard a shout as he
rounded a turn in the trail and entered a widening in the road where one
dark elf lay dying in the road as Gorath sped past him.

The other three were not so quickly taken, but rather hurried up into
higher rocks where the horses couldn't follow. Locklear didn't hesitate
and in a move that startled Owyn, the squire jumped up on his saddle and
leaped off the running horse's back, knocking a moredhel from the rock
he was climbing.

On his right Owyn saw another one turn, rapidly stringing his bow, then
reaching in a hip quiver for an arrow. Owyn urged his horse forward, and
swept his staff, striking the bowman below the knee.

The bowman went down, his feet shooting out from under him, and struck
the rocks with the back of his head.

Owyn's mount shied from the sudden motion near his head and suddenly
Owyn found himself falling backwards. 'Ahhhh!"he cried, and then he
struck something softer than the rocks. A stunned 'oof accompanied the
impact, and a groan told him he had landed atop the already injured dark
elf.

As if scorched by the touch of a flame, Owyn turned over and sat up,
scrambling backward. Suddenly he was struck from behind by his horse as
the animal turned and sped down the trail. 'Hey!"Owyn shouted, as if he
could order the animal to stop.

He then realized there was a struggle going on, and the twice-struck
moredhel was attempting to rise. Owyn looked around for a weapon and saw
the fallen archer's bow. Owyn grabbed it, and using it like a club,
struck the moredhel in the head with as much strength as he could
muster. The bow shattered and the warrior's head snapped back. Owyn was
certain he wouldn't rise again.

The young magician turned to see Locklear standing away from a now dead
dark elf, while Gorath likewise stood over a fallen foe. The moredhel
turned and looked in all directions, as if seeking another foe.

After a moment, he put up his sword and said, 'They are alone. " 'How
can you tell? "asked Locklear. 'These are my people, "said Gorath
without apparent bitterness. 'It is unusual for even this many to travel
together this far south of our lands. "He motioned toward a small fire.
'They didn't expect to encounter us. " 'Then what were they doing here?
"asked Locklear.

Waiting for someone? "

Whof asked Owyn.

Gorath looked around in the late-afternoon light as if seeing something
in the distant peaks, or through the rocks on either side of the trail.
'I don't know. But they were waiting here. "

Locklear said, Where is your horse, Owyn? "

Owyn looked over his shoulder and said, 'Back down there somewhere I
fell off. "

Gorath smiled. 'I saw you land on that one over there.'He indicated the
body.

Locklear said, 'Hurry back down the trail and see if you can find him.
If he's heading back toward Lamut, we'll have to ride in rotation.

I don't want to be slowed any more than necessary. "

As Owyn ran off, Gorath said, 'Why don't you leave him behind?

Locklear studied the moredhers expression as if trying to read him, then
at last he said, 'It's not our way. "

Gorath laughed mockingly. 'My experience with your kind tells me
otherwise. "

t,ocklear said, 'Then it's not my way. "

Gorath shrugged. 'I can accept that.'He set to examining the corpse at
Locklear's feet and after a moment said, 'This is interesting. "He held
out an object for Locklear's examination. vwhat is this? "asked
Locklear, looking at a multi-faceted stone of an odd blue hue. 'A snow
sapphire. " 'Sapphire!"said Locklear. 'It's as big as an egg!" 'It's not
a particularly valuable stone, "said Gorath. 'They are common north of
the Teeth of the World. " 'So it's, what? A keepsake? 'Perhaps, but when
a war party leaves our homeland, we travel light. Weapons, rations,
extra bowstrings, and little else. We easily live by forage. " 'Maybe
this isn't a war party, "suggested Locklear. 'Maybe they live around
here?

Gorath shook his head. 'The last of my people south of the Teeth of the
World lived in the Grey Towers and they fled to the Northlands with the
coming of the Tsurani. None of my race has lived this near the Bitter
Sea since before the Kingdom came to these mountains.

No, while not of my clan, these are from the Northlands. "He put the gem
in his belt pouch and continued to examine the bodies.

Time passed and finally Owyn put in an appearance, leading his horse.
'Damn all horses, "he swore. 'He made me chase him until he got bored. "

Locklear smiled. 'Next time, don't fall off 'I didn't plan on it this
time, "said Owyn.

Gorath said, We need to hide these. "He pointed to the four dead
moredhel. He picked up one and carried it a short way down the trail
then unceremoniously threw the corpse over the side of a ravine.

Owyn looked at Locklear, and the young magician tied his horse's reins
to a nearby bush. He picked up the feet of the nearest corpse while
Locklear lifted the creature under the shoulders.

Soon all four bodies were consigned to the ravine hundreds of feet
below. Locklear mounted as did Gorath and Owyn. Leaving for the time
being the mystery of why these moredhel were waiting at this lonely spot
on a rarely used trail, they rode on.

Loriel appeared before them, a small city - really a large town -
nestled into the large valley which ran eastward. Another valley
intersected from the south.

Gorath said, We need food. " 'A fact of which my stomach is well aware,
"answered Locklear.

Owyn said, 'Not that I'm in a hurry to face my father, but this is
turning into a roundabout journey, squire. "

Locklear pointed to the southern valley. 'There's a road through there
that's a very straight course to Hawles Hollow. From there we have our
choice of routes, south along a narrow ridge trail, or southwest back to
the King's Highway. "

Gorath said, 'And then to Krondor? " 'And then to Krondor, "agreed
Locklear. 'Something in all this is making what my friend Jimmy calls
his "bump of trouble" itch like

I've been attacked there by fleas. " 'Gorath, this stolen ruby, the
Tsurani magicians, all of it is somehow ... more than coincidence. "
'How? "asked Owyn. 'If I knew, "said Locklear, 'we wouldn't be stopping
off to visit Mr.

Alescook. He may know something or know someone who knows what it's
about, but the more I think on this mystery, the more it bothers me that
I don't know what's behind all this. 'But we're going to find out or die
trying. "

Owyn didn't look happy at the second choice, but said nothing.

Gorath just looked out over the town as they rode down towards a small
guard post that sat beside the trail.

A town constable of advancing years and considerable girth held up his
hand and said, 'Halt!"

The three reined in and Locklear inquired, 'N'at is it? "

We've had a rash of renegades around here, lately, m'lad, so state your
business. "

We're travelling south and stopping for provisions, "said Locklear

'And who might you be, to be riding down out of the mountains?

Locklear produced the paper given him by Captain Belford and said, 'This
should explain as much as you need to know, constable. "

The man took the document and squinted at it. Locklear realized he
couldn't read, but he made a show of studying it. Finally, convinced

by the large embossment at the bottom, the constable handed back the
paper and said, 'You may pass, sir. Just be wary if you're out after
dark' cwhy? asked Locklear. 'As I said, sir, lots of ruffians and
bandits passing by lately, and not too few of those murderous Brothers
of the Dark Path. Look a bit like your elf friend there, but with long
black nails and red eyes which shine in the night. "

Locklear could barely hold back his amusement as he said, We'll be wary,
constable. "

They rode past and Gorath said, 'That one has never seen one of iny
people in his life. " 'So I gathered, "observed Locklear, 'though I must
pay more attention to your eyes at night. I may have missed the red
glow. "

Owyn chuckled and they found themselves an inn. It was dirty, crowded
and dark, which suited Locklear fine as he was low on funds.

He had thought about asking Captain Belford for a loan, but decided the
captain's only response would have been, 'wait for Earl Kasumi, " and
while Locklear didn't mind taking a circuitous route to get to

Krondor to avoid ambushes, he was anxious to put the mystery of what was
occurring in the Northlands before Arutha.

There were no rooms available, a situation that surprised Locklear, but
the innkeeper gave them leave to sleep in the commons. Owyn grumbled at
the need, but Gorath kept his thoughts to himself.

So far no one had objected to the moredhel's presence along the way,
either because they didn't recognize him for what he was, mistaking him
for an elf, or because a moredhel with renegade humans in these
mountains was not all that unusual a sight. Whatever the cause, Locklear
was grateful he didn't need to deal with curious onlookers.

They ate at a crowded table, and after the meal listened to an
indifferent troubadour. There were some games of chance and

Locklear itched to try his hand at some cards, either pashawa or pokir.
He resisted the impulse, as he could ill afford to lose, and one lesson
taught him by his father and older brothers was don't gamble what you
can't afford to lose.

As the inn settled down and those sleeping in the commons began to claim
corners and places under tables, Locklear approached the

barkeep, a heavy-set man with a black beard. 'Sir? "he asked as

Locklear moved between two other men to stand before him. 'Fell me,
friend,'began Locklear. 'Is there a merchant in this town who deals in
gems? "

The barkeep nodded. 'Three doors down on the right. Name's

Alescook. " 'Good, "said Locklear. 'I need to purchase a gift for a
lady. "

The barkeep grinned. 'I understand, sir. Now, one word: caution. " 'I
don't understand, "said Locklear. 'I'm not saying Kiefer Alescook can't
be trusted, but let's just say the source of some of his merchandise is
a bit dodgy. " 'Ah, "said Locklear, nodding as if now he understood.
'Thanks. I'll bear that in mind. "

Locklear returned to the table and said, 'I've found our man. He's
nearby and we'll see him first thing in the morning. " 'Good, "said
Gorath. 'I tire of your company. "

Locklear laughed. 'You're not exactly an ale and fair song yourself,

Gorath. "

Owyn said, Well, whatever. I'm tired and if we're to sleep on the floor,
I don't want to get too far from the fire. "

Locklear realized that men were now bedding down for the night and
replied, 'Over there. "

They moved to the indicated spot and unrolled their bedding. After a few
minutes of listening to the sounds of hushed conversation from those few
men still at the tables or the door opening and closing as men left to
return to their homes, Locklear fell into a deep sleep.

The merchant looked up as the three men entered the room. He was an old
man, looking frail to the point of infirmity. He regarded the three with
rheumy eyes. He studied Gorath for a moment, then said, 'If you've come
for gold, I sent it north with one of your kind two days ago. "

Gorath said, 'I did not come for gold. "

Locklear said, We came looking for information. "

The merchant fell silent. After a moment, he said, 'Information?

Find a rumour-monger. I deal in gems and other fine iterns. " 'And from
what we hear, you're not too particular as to the source of those items.
"

'Are you suggesting I deal in stolen property? "demanded the old nian,
his voice rising.

Locklear held up his hand. 'I suggest nothing, but I am seeking a
particular stone. "

What? 'A ruby, unusual in size and character. I seek to return it to its
rightful owner, no questions asked. If you came by it, no fault will be
placed at your feet, @f you help us recover it. If you don't, then

I suggest you may receive a visit from a royal magistrate and some very
disapproving guardsmen from the garrison at Tyr-Sog. "

The old man's expression turned calculating. His balding pate shone in
the light of a single lantern that hung overhead. With feigned
indifference he said, 'I have nothing to hide. But I may be able to help
you. "

What do you know? "asked Locklear. 'Lately, my business has been brisk,
but it's an unusual sort of trade, and I've been in this business for
fifty years, lad. 'Recently, I've been handling transactions for parties
I have not met, through agents and couriers. Most unusual, but
profitable. Gems of high quality, many of them very rare, even
remarkable, have passed through my hands. " 'Tsurani gems? "asked
Locklear. 'Precisely!'said the old man. 'Yes, similar enough to our own
rubies, sapphires, emeralds and the like to be recognized as such, but
with slight variations only an expert might notice. And also, other gems
unlike any found on this world. " 'Whom do you represent? asked
Locklear. 'No one known to me, "said the old man. 'At irregular
intervals of late, dark elves like your companion have come here, and
they drop off gems. Later a man comes from the south and brings me gold.
I take a commission and wait for the dark elves to return and take the
gold. "

Gorath turned to Locklear. 'Delekhan. He's using the gold to arm our
people. "

Locklear held his hand up, requesting silence. We'll talk later. "To the
old man he said, Who buys the gems? " 'I don't know, but the man who
receives them is known as Isaac. lie lives down in Hawles Hollow. "

'Have you seen this Isaac? "asked Locklear. 'Many times. He's a young
man, about your height. Light brown hair he wears long to his shoulders.
" 'Does he speak like an Easterner? " 'Yes, now that you mention it.
He sounds court bred at times. "

Locklear said, 'Thank you. I will mention your aid should any official
investigation come of this. " 'I am always eager to help the
authorities. I run a lawful enterprise ' 'Good. "Locklear motioned
toward Gorath's purse and said, 'Sell him the stone. "

Gorath took out the snow sapphire he had taken from the dead moredhel
and put it down before Alescook.

The merchant picked it up and examined it. 'Ah, a nice one. I have a
buyer for these down south. I'll give you a golden sovereign for it. "
'Five, "said Locklear. 'These are not that rare, "said Alescook, tossing
it back to Gorath, who started to put it away. 'But, on the other hand
two sovereigns. " 'Four, "said Locklear. 'Three, and that's done with
it. "

They took the gold, enough for a meal along the way, left and went
outside. To his companions Locklear said, We're passing through

Hawles Hollow on our way to Krondor, so our next choice is easy. We find
Isaac. "

As he mounted his horse, Gorath said, 'This Isaac is known to you,then?
"

Locklear said, 'Yes. He's the second biggest rogue I've known in my
life. A fine companion for drinking and brawling. If he's caught up in
something dodgy, it wouldn't surprise me. "

They turned their horses southward and left the large, rolling valley of
Loriel, entering the narrow river valley leading southward.

Locklear had been able to purchase a little food at the inn, but the
lack of funds was starting to worry him. He knew they could hunt, but
his sense of something dark approaching was growing by the day.

A renegade moredhel chieftain bringing warning of possible invasiony
money moving to the north to buy weapons from weapons runners,

and somehow the Tsurani were involved. Any way he looked at this, it was
a bad situation.

Unable to put aside his foreboding, he kept his thoughts to himself

Gorath held up his hand and pointed. Softly he said, 'Something there.
'I don't see anything, "said Owyn. 'If you did, I would not need to warn
you, "suggested the dark elf cvvhat do you see? "asked Locklear. 'An
ambush. See those trees. Some lower branches have been hacked off, but
not by a woodsman's axe or saw. " 'Owyn, "Locklear asked, 'can you still
do that blinding trick? " 'Yes, "said Owyn, 'if I can see the man I'm
trying to blind. "

Well, as we're sitting here, pointing at them, I expect in a moment
whoever's behind that brush is going to figure out we've spotted their
ambush -'

Locklear was interrupted by six figures rushing forward from the brush
on foot. 'Moredheff shouted Locklear as he charged.

He felt the sizzling energy speed past him as Owyn sought to blind an
advancing dark elf. The spell took effect, for the creature faltered,
reaching up to his eyes in alarm.

Locklear leaned over the neck of his horse as an arrow flew past him.
'Get the bowman, "he shouted to Owyn.

Gorath shouted a war cry and rode down one attacker while slashing at a
second. Locklear engaged a dark elf who seemed indifferent to facing a
mounted opponent, and Locklear knew from bitter experience how deadly
the moredhel could be. While rarely mounted themselves, they had faced
human cavalry for hundreds of years and were adept at pulling riders
from horseback. Knowing their tactics, Locklear spurred his mount
suddenly, turning it hard to the left. This knocked back the attacker he
faced and revealed the one poised to leap and drag him down. Locklear
slashed out with his sword, taking the creature in the throat, above his
metal breastplate. Locklear kept his horse circling, so he quickly faced
his first attacker.

The sizzling sensation told him Owyn was once more blinding an

opponent, and Locklear hoped it was the bowman. The moredhel who had
fallen back as the horse spun pressed forward with a vicious slash at
Locklear's leg.

He barely got his sword down in time and felt the shock run up through
his arm. His stiff ribs hindered his parry and the flat of his own blade
slammed into his horse's side, causing the animal to shy.

Locklear used his left leg and moved the animal back into a straight
line, twisting his body to keep his eyes upon his foe. His ribs hurt
frorn the effort, but he stayed alive as the moredhel swung at him
again. He knocked that blow aside and delivered a weak counter which
slapped his opponent in the face, irritating him more than doing any
real damage.

But the blow did slow the moredhel's advance, and Locklear got his horse
turned to face his foe. Locklear remembered something his father had
drilled into him and his brothers; a soldier who has a weapon and
doesn't use it is either an idiot or dead.

His horse was a weapon, and Locklear put his legs hard against his
horse's flanks and tugged hard on the reins with his off hand.

The horse picked up a canter, and to the moredhel it was as if the horse
suddenly leaped at him.

The warrior was a veteran and dodged to one side, but Locklear reined
his horse in, turning hard to the left. To the moredhel, it looked as if
Locklear was turning away, and the creature pressed forward,

Locklear kept the horse turning in a tight circle, and suddenly the
moredhel realized his error as the young squire completed his circle
with a slashing downward blow. This was no irritating tap, but a
powerful blow which smashed bone as it cut into the side of the
moredhel's skull.

Locklear glanced toward Gorath and saw him beset by two foes, then
looked back to Owyn, and saw that he was on foot a hundred yards away
and holding a swordsman at bay with his staff. Hoping the bowman was
still blinded by Owyn's magic, Locklear rode to Dwyn)s rescue.

He kicked hard at his horse's flanks and the animal leaped forward so
that he was approaching at a gallop when the moredhel heard him coming.
The dark elf turned to look at his second opponent, giving Owyn the
opening to strike with the butt of

4A

his staff. He broke the creature's jaw and sent him slumping to the
ground.

Locklear reined his horse in so suddenly the animal planted his hooves
and almost sat. Spinning the horse around, Locklear waved to Owyn,
shouting, 'Keep the bowman off us!"

As if the Goddess of Luck had turned a deaf ear to him, Locklear was
lifted out of the saddle by an arrow. He struck the ground hard, barely
avoiding broken bones by rolling. The arrow in his left shoulder snapped
and the pain caused his vision to swim and took his breath away.

For the briefest instant, Locklear fought to keep conscious, then he
felt his eyes focus and he willed away the pain in his shoulder. A
strangled cry behind him made him turn. Over him reared a moredhel,
sword raised to strike. Suddenly Gorath was behind the moredhel, and he
plunged his sword into the moredhel's back.

Owyn ran past, wheeling his staff above his head. Locklear looked up as
his would-be killer fell to his knees, then keeled over. Gorath turned
before Locklear could speak and ran after Owyn.

Locklear rose slowly on wobbly legs as he saw Owyn rush forward and
strike a moredhel bowman who was vainly rubbing his eyes as if trying to
clear them. The bowman was clubbed to his knees, and died a moment later
as Gorath delivered the killing blow.

Gorath spun around in a circle once, as if seeking another enemy, but
Locklear saw the six were dead. Gorath stood with his sword in hand,
frustration on his face, then he shouted in rage. 'Delekhan!"

Locklear stumbled to the dark elf and said, 'What? " 'They knew we were
coming!"said Gorath.

Owyn said, 'Somehow they got word south? "

Gorath put up his sword. 'Nago. " 'What? "asked Locklear. 'Not what,
who, "said Gorath. 'Nago. He's one of Delekhan's sorcerers. He and his
brother Narab served the murderer. They are powerful chieftains in their
own right, but right now they're doing

Delekhan's bidding. Without their help, Delekhan never would have risen
to power and overthrown the chieftains of the other clans.

Without their help, these -' his hand swept in a circle, indicating the
dead moredhel '- would not be here waiting. "He knelt next to one of the
dead and said, 'This was my cousin, my kinsman. "

He pointed to another one. 'That one is from a clan that has be sworn
enemy to mine for generations. That they are both serving this monster
hints at his power. "

Locklear indicated his shoulder and sank to the ground. ONNYN examined
it and explained, 'I can get the arrowhead out, but it,s going to hurt.
"

Locklear said, 'It already hurts. Get on with it. "

While Owyn ministered to Locklear, Gorath said,'Nago and Narab both have
the power of mind speech. Especially with one another,

Those we killed on the road to your town of Loriel, or another who spied
us, must have passed word to one of the brothers. He in turn alerted
these as to our whereabouts. "

Locklear said, 'So the chances are good that before they died, one of
these also let Nago know we are here? " 'Almost certainly. "

Wonderful, "said Locklear through gritted teeth as Owyn used his dagger
to cut out the arrowhead. His eyes teared and his vision swam again for
a moment, but by breathing slowly and deeply he kept conscious.

Owyn,dusted the wound with a pack of herbs from his belt pouch then
placed a cloth over it. 'Hold this here; press hard, "he instructed,

He went to the nearest body and robbed it of a strip of cloth, cut -away
with his dagger, then returned to bind it tightly around Locklear's
shoulder. 'Between that wound to your ribs and this shoulder, your left
arm is close to useless, squire. " 'Just what I wanted to hear, "said
Locklear as he tried to move his left arm and found Owyn's observation
correct. He could move it scant inches before pain made him stop the
attempt. 'Horses? " 'They've run off, "said Owyn.

Wonderu, "said Locklear. 'I was knocked out of the saddle, what's your
excuse@' fie demanded of the other two.

Gorath said, 'Fighting on the back of the beast was too awkward. "

Owyn said, 'I can't cast a spell from the saddle. Sorry. "

Locklear stood. 'So we walk. " 'How far is it to Hawws Hollow? "asked
Owyn. 'Too far, "said Locklear. 'If they're waiting for us, much too
far. "

THREE

Revelation

T he sentry blinked in surprise.

One moment the approach to the town was empty, the next three figures
were standing before him. 'What? "he exclaimed, bringing his old spear
to something resembling a stance of readiness. 'Easy, friend, "said
Locklear. He leaned upon Owyn's shoulder and looked as if he was close
to death. They had encountered three more ambushes between the one where
their horses had fled and Hawws Hollow. They had managed to avoid the
first two, sneaking around human bandits. The last had been a squad of
six moredhel who had been too alert. The fight had been bloody and
costly. Gorath was wounded, a nasty cut to his left shoulder that

Owyn had barely been able to staunch. Locklear had been injured again,
nearly dying if not for Owyn's intervention, and the young magician
himself was sporting a half-dozen minor wounds. 'Who are you? asked the
confused sentry. He was obviously a farmer or worker from town, part of
the citys militia Locklear guessed. 'Locklear, squire of the Prince's
court in Krondor, and these two are my companions. " 'You look like
brigands, to me, "replied the guardsman.

We have proof, "said Locklear, 'but first I'd like to find someone who
can help us before we bleed to death. " 'Brother Malcolm of the Temple
of Silban is in town, down at

Logan's Tavern. He comes through here every six months or so.

He'll help you out. " 'Where is Logan's? "asked Owyn as Locklear seemed
about to lapse into unconsciousness.

'Just down the street. Can't miss it. Sign out front of a dwarf. "

They made their way to the indicated establishment, which showed a faded
sign of a comically drawn dwarf, obviously once painted with vivid
colours.

They went inside and found several townspeople sitting by, waiting for a
priest in the robes of the Order of Silban who was in the corner
ministering to a sick child. A couple of local workers were waiting, one
with a bandaged hand, the other looking pale and weak.

The priest looked up as he finished with the boy, who leaped down from
his mother's lap without prompting and raced for the door. The priest
looked at Locklear and said, 'Are you dying? " 'Not quite, "answered the
squire. 'Good, because these fellows were here first and I'll only make
them wait if you're near death. "

Mustering as much dry wit as he could under the circumstances,

Locklear replied, 'I'll try to let you know when I'm about to die. "

Gorath's patience vanished. He moved to confront the priest and said,
'You will see my companion now. These others can wait. "

The glowering dark elf towered over the small priest and his expression
and voice left no room for argument this side of violence.

The priest looked once more at Locklear and said, 'Very well, if you
think it urgent. Bring him over to this table. "

They half-carried Locklear to the table and laid him out on it. The
priest said, Who bandaged this? " 'I did, "said Owyn. 'You did well
enough, "said the priest. 'He's alive, so that counts for much. "

After Locklear's tunic and the bandages were removed, the priest said,
'Silban preserve us! You've got three wounds fit to fell a bigger man.
"He sprinkled a powder on the wounds, which brought a gasp of pain from
Locklear, then the priest began a chant and closed his eyes.

Owyn felt power manifest in the room and the hairs on the back of his
neck stood up. He had only been exposed to a little clerical magic in
his life and it always seemed odd and exotic to him.

A faint glow from the priest's hands threw illumination over

Locklear's wounds and as Brother Malcolm droned his chant, Owyn

could see the wounds begin to heal. They were still visible, but no
longer fresh and angry. When the priest stopped, they looked old, past
the danger stage. The priest was pale from the exertion when lie
stopped. He said, 'That's all I can do now. Sleep and food will do the
rest. "Looking at Owyn and Gorath, he asked, 'Do you have wounds, as
well? "

We do, "said Gorath. 'But we can wait until you tend to those two. "He
pointed to the two locals waiting for treatment.

Malcolm nodded. 'Good.'As he moved past Gorath, he said, 'Your inanners
may be in question, moredhel, but your instincts serve you well. He
might have bled to death had we waited another hour. "

Gorath remained silent in the face of being recognized for what he was.
He moved to sit next to Owyn and wait.

When the two farmers, one with a smashed finger courtesy of a
badly-aimed hammer and the other with a bad case of fever, were
finished, Malcolm turned to Gorath and Owyn. 'Who's next?

Gorath indicated Owyn and the magician went to sit before the priest. He
watched with interest as the priest quickly treated and bound his
wounds. They spoke little, for Owyn was almost out on his feet.

When Gorath replaced him before the priest, the dark elf said, 'You
recognize my race, yet you do not call for the town guard. Why? "

The priest shrugged as he examined Gorath's wounds. 'You travel with men
who do not look like renegades to me. You are not here killing and
burning, so I assume your mission a peaceful one. "

Why do you assume I have a mission? "asked Gorath.

Why else would you travel in the human world? "Malcolm asked
rhetorically. 'I have never known the moredhel to travel for pleasure '

Gorath grunted, forgoing comment.

Malcolm was quickly done and said, 'You should have come second; this
wound was more severe than your friend's. But you'll live. "He washed
his hands and dried them with a towel. 'It is my mission to aid and
serve, but it is custom that those served donate. "

Gorath indicated Locklear, who was now sitting upright at the table upon
which he had lain. Locklear said, 'Brother, I fear I may only give you a
scant token of our debt, but should you come to Krondor any time soon,
visit me and I will repay you tenfold. "

Locklear dug into his purse and judged how much he would need for a room
that night, and other costs, then drew out a golden sovereign and two
silver royals. 'It is all we can spare. Y 'It will do, "said the priest.
'In Krondor, where might I find you? " 'At the palace. I am one of the
Prince's men. I am Squire

Locklear. " 'Then I shall call upon you when next I'm in Krondor, young
squire, and you can settle accounts with me then. "Glancing at
Locklear's freshly-bound wounds, he said, 'Go easy on those cuts for
another day. By tomorrow you'll feel better. If you avoid being stabbed
again any time soon, you'll feel like your old self by weeles end. Now,
I must go rest. This is more healing in one afternoon than I usually
experience in a week. "

The priest left and Locklear slowly rose to cross to the bar and found
the innkeeper cleaning up. The portly man said, Welcome to

The Dusty Dwarf, my friends. What may I do for you? " 'Food and a room,
"said Locklear.

They returned to a table and the innkeeper followed soon after, putting
down a large platter of cold meats, breads baked earlier that morning,
cheese and fruits. 'I've got some hot food cooking for later this
evening, but this early in the day, cold fare is all I have. "

Owyn and Gorath were already stuffing food into their mouths as

Locklear was saying, 'That will be fine. Some ale, please. " 'Right
away. "

The man was back with the ale in a moment, and Owyn asked, 'Sir, what is
the story behind the name of this place? " 'The Dusty Dwarf? "said the
man.

Yes. "

Well, truth to tell, it's not much of a story. Man named Struble owned
this place. Called it The Merry Dwarf. Don't know why.

But it had a bright sign. He never had the sign repainted in all the
years he owned the place, so by the time I bought it from him, the sign
was badly faded. All the locals called it The Dusty Dwarf by then, so I
just went along. Saves me the cost of getting the sign painted, too. "

Owyn smiled at the story, as the barkeep hurried off to meet the demands
of another customer. Locklear looked nearly asleep as he said,'AJ1
right. We have two choices. We can take the main road down

to Questor's View, or the back way through Eggly and Tannerus and lose a
few days. "

Owyn said, 'I'm only guessing, but from what Gorath has said, this

Nago or Narab is keeping in contact with their agents by mind speech.
z@s I said before, I know only a little about this speech, but what I do
know is it can be very taxing. The magician Pug's daughter is known to
be among the most gifted in the world at this and can speak across vast
distances, but she is rare, even unique. For lesser magicians, it
requires much rest. "

Gorath looked on impassively, but Locklear said, 'Come to the point, if
you don't mind. I'm having trouble staying awake. " 'The point is
whoever this magician is, he's lying low in one place, probably guarded,
and probably has one or two key agents in a given area. The rest of his
orders are being run by messengers, I'm thinking.

So they know where we've been, and may have even guessed where we are
today, but they don't know which way we'll be going. "

Locklear said, 'Fine, but what does that mean about our choice of route?

Gorath said, 'It means he must spread his men equally between the two
routes, so the best solution is to take the route where we will be best
able to defend ourselves or travel with a larger band, such as a trading
caravan. "

Locklear motioned to the innkeeper, who came and gave him a key,
indicating the room at the top of the stairs. As they mounted the
stairs, Locklear observed, 'If we were trying to come back from

Kesh, a caravan might be a good cover, but as the King's Highway is
usually well patrolled, most traders feel comfortable travelling with a
few mercenary guards or none at all. Most commerce along the coast is by
ship. "

As they reached the room, Owyn said, 'Could we make for

Quiestor's View and hire a ship?

With what? "asked Locklear. 'Captain Belford's letter of introduction
isn't exactly the King's writ. If a fleet ship is at anchor, I know I
could talk our way aboard and get it bound for Krondor, but I'm not
anxious to sit around waiting for one to show up. I'm not anxious for
anything but a good night's sleep, finding Isaac and getting this riddle
of a special ruby solved, and then figuring out how to get to

Krondor as fast as we can. "

Owyn said, 'I can't argue about that night's sleep. "

Gorath said nothing.

An hour after dawn they left the inn and Locklear felt remarkably
recovered. Where searing agony had accompanied his every movement the
day before, he now only felt slightly stiff and weak.

He indicated a journey toward the north end of the town as he said, 'If
I know Isaac, he's probably staying at the house of his cousin, a
certain young gentleman named Austin Delacroix. " 'From Bas-Tyra? "asked
Owyn as they started up the busy street.

Windows were opening as vendors put out their wares for display, or
housewives opened up their homes to the morning air and sun.
'Originally,'said Locklear. 'A family of marginal nobility, descended
from a one time hero of some forgotten war when Bas-Tyra was a
city-state; their house rank is all based upon that. " 'Your human
issues of rank and status are ... difficult to understand ' observed
Gorath.

Why? "asked Owyn. 'Don't you have chieftains? "

We do, "said Gorath. 'But it is a rank earned by deeds, not one
conferred, by birth. Delekhan rose by betrayal and bloodshed, yet he was
sheltered by his early service to Murmandamus and Murad. "He almost spat
the last two names. 'If his son Moraeulf gains his ambition to inherit
from his father, it will be over the bodies of many such as 1. In better
times, he would be a valued sword against our people's enemy, but these
are not better times. " 'This is the house, I think, "said Locklear,
pointing to a onceprosperous dwelling fallen on hard times. The house,
like those on either side, was a small but well-built structure of wood
and stone, with a sturdy door and shuttered windows. But while the
others were dean and recently painted, this was faded and dirty.

Locklear knocked loudly and after a few minutes a sleepy voice from the
other side of the door said, What? " 'Isaac? "shouted Locklear, and the
door opened.

A young man with light brown hair stuck his head out the door and said,
'Locky? "The door opened wide and the young man bid them enter. He wore
only a rumpled tunic and trousers, obviously having slept in them. 'I
was just getting up, "he said. 'Right, "said Locklear, as if humouring
him.

The room was dark, with the shutters and sashes still closed, and the
air was stale. Old food odours and sweat mixed with the sour aroma of
spilled ale. The furniture was simple, one wooden table with four
chairs, a single shelf behind the table, and another small table upon
which a lamp rested. Stairs led to a sleeping loft above. A faded
tapestry, once residing in surroundings far finer than those in which
they hung now, was the sole item of any note. It hung behind Isaac,
framing him with a tableau of a meeting between princes who were
exchanging gifts while notables of that day looked on from all sides.
'Locklear, "said Isaac, as if savouring the name. What a pleasure.

You're wearing your years well. I like the moustache. You always could
manage the flamboyant. "He turned away and moved with a visible limp.
'Sit down. I would offer you tea or coffee, but my cousin is temporarily
visiting other relatives in Bas-Tyra, and I have just arrived last
night, so we are not well provisioned. " 'That's all right, "said
Locklear. 'How long's it been? Since Arutha's wedding? "

Isaac sat in a small wooden chair, and crossed his legs so that he kept
his weight on his good leg. 'The very day. You should have heard the fit
old Master of Ceremonies delacy threw when he found out I wasn't the
Baron of Dorgin's son. " 'That's because there is no Baron of Dorgin,
"supplied Locklear. 'If you'd done your research, you would have avoided
that gaffe. " 'How was I supposed to know the lands outside the dwarven
enclave are the province of the Duke of the Southern Marches? " 'Study?
"suggested Locklear. 'Never my strong suit, "said Isaac with a wave of
his hand.

Well, at least delacy was too busy with the wedding to toss you out
until the next day, "said Locklear. We had a good time that night.

What have you been doing since? " 'I spent some time in the east with my
family, then returned a few years ago to the west. Since then I've been
doing odd jobs along the border. So, what brings a member of Krondor's
court so far from home with such unusual company? " 'Certain doings,
some bloody, which unfortunately point to you. " 'Me? "said Isaac.
'You're not serious. " 'I'm as serious as a royal torturer, Isaac, and
you'll have a chance to make a first-hand comparison if you don't answer
me truthfully.

I'll have Gorath sit on you while I go fetch the local constable. We can
have a pleasant talk here, or a very unpleasant one in Krondor. "

Locklear had no intention of summoning the local constable and trying to
sort out his claim of rank and authority, especially with no royal writs
or warrants. But Isaac didn't know that, and Locklear wasn't about to
enlighten him. 'I have no idea what you're talking about, "said Isaac,
starting to slowly rise.

Gorath said softly, 'Reach for that sword behind you and you'll have a
leg to match the other before your fingers touch the hilt, human. "
'Damn, "said Isaac quietly, sitting back down in the chair. 'The ruby,
"said Locklear. 'What ruby? "said Isaac. 'The one you bought from Kiefer
Alescook. The one you paid for with gold heading north to buy Delekhan
weapons. The ruby stolen from an important Tsurani magician. The ruby
that's the latest in a series of such transactions. "

Isaac ran a hand over his face and back through his hair. 'Locky, it's
been hard. "

Locklear's expression turned dark and his voice took on a menacing tone
that had Owyn sitting back in surprise. 'As hard as treason, Isaac?

As hard as the jerk at the end of a hangman's rope? " 'Who said anything
about treason, Locky? "Isaac's manner turned to pleading. 'Look, we were
boyhood friends before I had my accident.

If our positions had been reversed, you'd know, you'd understand what
it's like to be a hired sword with a bad leg. Locky, I was nearly
starving when this opportunity came along. 1 was too far in before I
discovered who was behind it. " 'Tell us what you know and I'll do you a
favour, "said Locklear.

Isaac looked downfallen, and said in a contrite fashion, 'I was in over
my head before I knew who I was dealing with. Alescook is an old
acquaintance. I know that from time to time he "finds" gems and
jewellery that has ... ah, "clouded" title is a polite way of putting
it. " 'Stolen, "said Locklear.

Isaac squirmed. Whatever the cause, the market in the Kingdom is
difficult, so those gems find their way south, to Kesh or over the

RONDOR: I HE BETRAYAL 51 water to Queg or the Free Cities. I'm just a
middleman, someone who can take a little trip down to the Vale or over
to Krondor or

Sarth and put something on a ship. That's all. " 'The ruby? "said
Locklear.

Isaac started to rise and hesitated as Gorath leaned forward, hand on
the hilt of his sword. Isaac continued rising slowly, then mounted the
stairs to the loft above. Locklear motioned with his head to Owyn,

Who stood up and hurried through a small door on the wall next to the
tapestry. He found himself in a tiny kitchen, one dirty enough he would
have to be far hungrier than he presently was to consider eating
anything prepared there. He ducked through the back door and looked up
at a window above, where he saw the head of Isaac disappear back inside.
Owyn smiled; Locklear's instincts had been correct. The lame ex-fighter
might attempt to escape from a first storey window, but he knew he
wasn't quick enough to pull off his escape if someone was waiting below.

A moment later, Locklear called for Owyn's return and the young magician
complied. He entered the room and stopped. The hairs on his arm stood up
and he said, 'Let me see the stone. "

Isaac handed it to him and said, 'It's really not a very valuable item,
but I get paid well. "

Owyn replied, 'I don't know anything about stones and their worth, but I
know this one is more than it appears to be. "He looked at it closely.
'This ruby has been prepared. " 'Prepared for what? "asked Locklear.
'Jewellery? " 'No, as a matrix of some kind for magic. I don't know much
about this sort of thing. "He put the stone down. 'Truth to tell,

I don't know much about any sort of thing magical, which is why

I left Stardock. The only magic I've learned so far was from a field
magician named Patrus, a sour old character. But my father objected and
last I heard Patrus headed north -' He shook himself out of his reverie.
'It doesn't matter, but what he told me is that some magic is harmonic
and can be focused by gems. Or stored in them. He claimed once that
magic itself might exist in gem form under the right conditions. For
example, you can rig a trap with certain gems, so that whoever steps
into a given area is imprisoned. " 'Can you tell what this was used for?
"

'No, "said Owyn with a shake to his head. 'It may be something that will
be used in the fature. " 'So you think it important? "asked Gorath. 'I
can now see why the Tsurani magician was so angry about it,
disappearance. "

Locklear picked up the stone and tossed it in the air a couple Of times
while he was thinking. After a moment he put away the stone and turned
to Isaac. 'Tell us what else you know. "

Isaac looked defeated and said, 'Very well. The stones come through the
rift on an irregular basis. Sometimes a bunch, sometimes a single one
like this one. Money comes to me in Krondor by various means; never the
same twice. There's a new gang in Krondor, run by someone calling
himself the Crawler, and he's causing the

Mockers fits. " 'Mockers? asked Gorath. 'Thieves,'said Locklear. 'I'll
explain it later. Go on,'he said, looking at Isaac. 'Someone in Krondor
is paying for gems. The Tsurani bring them in and hand them over to the
moredhel. They run them over to

Alescook and I go get them and bring them to Krondor. It's a fairly
simple arrangement. " 'But someone's running this. Who and where?

Isaac sighed. 'There's a village south of Sarth. Called Yellow Mule.

Know it? 'Villages like that don't put up signs, but if it's on the
King's

Highway, I've ridden through it. " 'It's not. About twenty miles south
of Sarth there's a fork in the road, and if you go inland, you're
heading toward an old trail up into the mountains. About five miles
along that road is where you'll find Yellow Mule. It's why the moredhel
are using it. No one travels through there, and it's easy for his kin -'
he indicated Gorath with a jerk of his chin '- to get there without
being seen. 'There's an old smuggler turned farmer named Cedric Rowe now
living there. He knows nothing of loyalty to anyone, or anything but
gold. He rents out his barn to a Dark Brother named Nago. " 'Nago!"said
Gorath. 'If we take him, then we have an opportunity to escape his
minions. Without him, they are blind and we can get to Krondor. "

'Maybe, "said Locklear. 'But certainly, if we leave him there, the
closer we get to Krondor, the easier it is for his agents to find us. "
why? "asked Owyn. 'He's tightening the noose, lad, "said Isaac. 'Less
land for his men to cover.

Locklear said, 'Now Quegans make sense. This Rowe has probably been
dealing with Quegan pirates all his life and just sent word to someone
in Sarth. First ship outbound to Queg passes word and within a month
he's got as many sea-hardened bully-boys as he needs.

And if Nago, is throwing gold around, there are more Quegans along the
roads to Krondor than a beggar has lice. " 'And Quegans aren't likely to
run to the King's soldiers if something goes sour; worst they do is
skulk back to the nearest port and find a ship heading out. Little
chance of being betrayed by someone going cold in the feet, "added
Isaac.

What else? "asked Locklear. 'Nothing, "said Isaac. He stood up and took
a cloak off the peg. 'As soon as I pen a note to my cousin, I'm bound
for Kesh.

I've just set Nago's assassin on my trail, but he doesn't know it yet.
Each hour I steal before he does, I stand a better chance of reaching
Kesh. " 'I said I'd do you a favour, Isaac, and I will. I'll let you run
for Kesh, for old times' sake and for keeping up your end of the
bargain, but only if you tell us everything. "

What makes you think there's anything else? "

Locklear pulled his sword suddenly and had the point at Isaac's throat.
'Because I know you. You always hold something back, just in case you
need an edge. I'm guessing this little bit of theatre is to give you a
chance to be out of town before us, just in case you can find one of
Nago's agents and get him set on us before they figure out you've sold
them out. Something like that. "

Isaac grinned. 'Locky! Why I wouldn't

Locklear pressed forward with the sword point and Isaac stopped talking
so suddenly he almost swallowed his own tongue. 'All of it, " demanded
Locklear in a menacing whisper.

Slowly Isaac raised his hand and gently pushed aside the sword

Point. There's a lockchest

AVHAT?"asked Locklear.

hka.,

1%"yffturl" L_@. I.Ctat I

Gorath said, 'A chest in which to lock valuables. My people make them to
transport items of importance! 'Go on, "said Locklear. 'There's a
lockchest outside of town. Go five miles down the road toward Questor's
View. To the right side of the road you'll see a lightning-struck tree.
Beyond that is a small clump of brush. Look there and you'll see the
chest. I am to leave the ruby there tonight, and when I return tomorrow,
my gold is supposed to be waiting for me! 'So you never see your contact
from Krondor? " 'Never. That was part of Nago's instructions to me!
'You've seen this moredhel? "asked Locklear. 'Met him, "said Isaac. 'At
Yellow Mule. He's a big one, like your friend here, not slight like some
of them can be. Nasty moods and no humour. Odd fire in his eyes if you
know what I mean. "

Locklear said, 'I can imagine. What can you tell us about his company? "
'He only keeps a couple of soldiers around him - I've never seen more
than three at any time - because it might be noticed. And there are
enough Quegans coming through there that if he needs swords he can get
them in a hurry. But he's a magic-user, Locky, a right nasty witch and
if you cross him he can fry you as soon as look at you. "

Locklear glanced at Gorath who gave a slight nod of agreement to what
was being said. Locklear said, 'Very well, Isaac, here's what you're
doing. Get something to write with!

Isaac glanced around the room and saw an old scrap of faded leather
sitting in a corner. He crossed to the small fireplace and fished out
some charcoal. He said, What do I write? "

Write this: "Ruby taken by Prince's man. Three you seek are on the way
to Eggly. I am undone and must flee. " Then sign your name!

Isaac signed, looking pale as he put down those words. 'This marks me,
Locky. " 'You were marked the moment you took gold to turn your hand
against your king. You deserve to be hanged, and eventually you will be
unless you change your ways, but it will be for another crime, not for
this. " 'Unless Nago's agents find you first, "added Gorath.

That was all Isaac needed. What do I do with this? "

'Put it in the chest where you are to leave the ruby, then I suggest

Voa start running. If you don't put that note there, and I get to

K-r,)ndor, I'll hire assassins even if they have to travel to the
farthest reaches of Kesh to find you. You can cut your hair and colour
it, grow a beard, and wear furs like a Brijainer, but you can't hide
that leg, Isaac. Now get out of here. "

Isaac didn't hesitate. He grabbed his sword, his cloak and the note and
hurried out the back door. 'How could you spare that traitor? "asked
Gorath. 'Dead he is of little use to us, and alive he may direct our
foes to another path. "Locklear looked at Gorath. 'And isn't it a little
odd you're showing contempt for a traitor? "

The look Gorath returned could only be called murderous. 'I am no
traitor. I'm trying to save my people, human. "He offered no further
embellishment, but turned and said, We must be away. That one cannot be
trusted and may attempt to bargain for his life. "

Locklear said, 'I know, but either way he plants the note, or he is
found and tells them what he knows, which isn't much. They were trying
to kill us before we got the ruby. They can't make us any more dead for
having it. " 'I think I have a way for us to avoid detection for a while
and perhaps reach Nago unseen, "Gorath said. 'How? "asked Locklear. 'I
know the way they reach this village of Yellow Mule. If we take the
ridge road toward the town you call Eggly, leaving as we told in the
note, there's a trail a day's quick run south of here that leads into
the higher ridges. It is, I believe, the same trail that empties out
near

Rowe's farm. " 'How could you know that? "asked Locklear, suddenly
suspicious.

Gorath's patience appeared near its end, but he managed to reply evenly.
'Because I lived in these mountains as a child, before you humans came
to plague us. Before this land became infested with your kind, my people
lived here. I've fished along these rivers and hunted in these
mountains. "His voice lowered and he said, 'I may have built my campfire
on the spot you humans have built this house.

Now, let us go. It's no long journey for a moredhel, but you humans tire
easily, and besides, your wounds will slow you even more. " 'And yours
won't? "asked Owyn.

'Not so that you would notice, "replied the dark elf, turning to the
door without waiting for a response and leaving the building.

Locklear and Owyn hurried after and found Gorath waiting. We need to buy
food. Have we enough gold? " 'For food, yes, "said Locklear. 'For
horses, no. "

They headed to an inn at the east end of town, and Locklear arranged for
travel rations, food bound in parchment heavily coated with beeswax,
mostly dried or heavily salted to prevent spoilage. While they waited
Locklear asked what conditions were like on the road to

Eggly, pointedly being loud enough that a few suspicious-looking men
hanging about the commons early in the day could overhear.

Should anyone ask about them, he was certain this would only reinforce
the false information in Isaac's note.

They left the inn and hurried on the road toward the town of Eggly.

Locklear glanced upward, considered the rapidly rising ridge above the
trees on the western side of the trail and considered the wisdom of
hiking up to that elevation and over the mountains down into a nest of
killers over which presided a murderous moredhel sorcerer. Finally he
was left with the only answer which he could come up with: there wasn't
a better idea presenting itself.

Resigning himself to a long walk and cold nights, he followed

Gorath, with Owyn at his side.

A

FOUR

Passage

T he wind howled through the pass.

Locklear spoke through chattering teeth. 'The things I do for king and
country. "

Gorath said, 'Ignore the cold. As long as you can feel your fingers and
toes, it is only discomfort, nothing more. " 'Easy for you to say, "said
Owyn shivering almost uncontrollably. 'You're used to it, living up in
the Northlands. " 'You're never "used to it", human. You just learn to
accept things over which you have no control. "He looked meaningfiluy at
the two young men, then pointed. We can expect to see a sentry any time
now. "

What should we do? "asked Locklear, the cold and his hunger robbing him
of his wits.

Wait over there, "said Gorath, 'while I scout. "

Locklear and Owyn went to the relative shelter provided by the lee side
of a huge boulder and waited. Time dragged on and Owyn and Locklear sat
close together to preserve warmth.

Suddenly Gorath returned. 'There are four guards near the barn,'he said.
Within, I do not know, but even alone Nago is dangerous. "

Locklear stood and stomped his feet to restore warmth, flexing fingers
and moving in place, getting ready to engage an enemy. 'What do we do?
"he asked again, content to let Gorath lead in this circumstance.

Gorath said, 'Owyn, I have no idea of what you are capable, but

Nago is a spell-caster of much ability. He can wither a foe with his
arts, turning him to lifeless ash, or drive one away screaming in
terror. He and his brother are among the most dangerous allies

of Delekhan, and serve him even more vigorously since the coming of the
Six. " 'Who are the Six? "asked Owyn.

Locklear waved away the question. 'So, how do we deal with

Nago? "

Gorath pointed to Owyn. 'You must distract him, boy. Locklear and I will
dispatch the other four, and anyone else who might be within the barn,
but the magician must be your concern. Cause him to falter, to hesitate,
to attempt to leave; anything, but you must keep him there for me to
deal with and you must keep him from bringing his arts to bear. Can you
do that? "

Owyn was obviously frightened, but he said, 'I will try. " 'No one can
ask for more, "said Gorath. To Locklear he said,

We have surprise, but we must kill the first two quickly. If we are
overpowered, or even if we are delayed overmuch in reaching

Nago, this will all come to a bad end. If Owyn can't occupy the magician
until we reach him, he will end our journey before we can warn your
prince. "

Locklear said, 'Then why are we doing this? "Before Gorath could answer,
Locklear held up his hand. 'I know, the noose is tightening and if we
don't do it now, we will never reach Krondor. "

Gorath nodded. 'Let's go. "

They hurried down the road until they could see the roof of a barn
across a small field that sat hard against the ridge. Locklear stooped
over, so as to be less visible as they moved down the trail. 'Where are
the guards?'he asked Gorath. 'I don't know. They were outside but a
moment ago. " 'Perhaps theyve gone inside the barn, "suggested Owyn.

Gorath pointed to a notch in the side of the trail, where rain had
eroded the soil between two large boulders. He moved between the rocks
and slid down the bank to the edge of the field, with Locklear behind
and Owyn bringing up the rear.

We must hurry, "said Gorath. 'The Mothers and Fathers have smiled on us
and the guards are inside. We don't know how long this might last. "He
set a punishing pace, not wishing to be discovered in the open. Locklear
forced himself to push on despite his stiff, aching joints. His wounds
had healed, though he still felt weaker than he should. He didn't
welcome another fight, but should this Nago be

the force behind all the attacks, he welcomed an opportunity to put an
end to them, and pay back some of the pain he had been forced to endure.

Gorath reached the barn and huddled in its shadow, glancing in an
directions. There was no sign they had been detected. He held up his
hand for silence.

They listened. Inside, muffled voices could be heard, though

Locklear could make nothing of them, for they were in a tongue he didn't
understand. Gorath's hearing was far more acute, for he said, 'They are
discussing the fact we have not been seen since Hawles

Hollow. They fear we may have slipped past them on the road through

Tannerus. "

What do we do now? "whispered Owyn. 'As before, we kill them, "said
Gorath. 'Act boldly. "He moved to the barn door and withdrew his sword.
He pulled forward his hood, throwing his features into darkness, then
put his sword under his cloak and turned to Owyn and Locklear. 'Be
ready, but wait a moment before entering. "

Then Gorath pushed open the door and in the late-afternoon gloom must
have seemed a black shape against a darkening sky.

From within a voice sounded a note of inquiry. Gorath stepped forward
with a stride that communicated purpose, answering in the moredhel
tongue. He must have confused them for a moment, for one asked another
question before a different voice shouted, 'Gorath!"

Locklear didn't hesitate when he heard that, but virtually jumped
through the open door. Owyn was a step behind.

The barn was empty save for five moredhel. A table had been placed in
the centre of a large barn aisle, with a bench behind it, where the
moredhel magician Nago was rising in shock at the appearance of his
intended prey.

A moredhel guard was falling from Gorath's first blow as he rounded on
another, lashing out with his blade and forcing the swordsman backward,
clutching his bleeding sword arm. Locklear dashed forward and caught the
wounded dark elf from behind, killing him with a blow to the back of his
neck as he sought to disengage himself from Gorath's attack, leaving
both swordsmen facing a ready opponent.

Owyn saw the moredhel magic-user who was still motionless in

astonishment at the appearance of the prey he had been seeking for;
weeks. But as Owyn moved through the doorway, he felt Power beginning to
manifest as Nago started an incantation. Knowing there was nothing much
he could do, Owyn unleashed the only spell he could throw on short
notice, the blinding spell he had practised so much on the journey.

The dark elf blinked in surprise and faltered, breaking his spell.

Owyn hesitated then raised his staff and started his charge, doing his
best to imitate a warcry. A thin warbling sound escaped his lips as he
ran between Gorath and Locklear as they struggled with their opponents.

As he closed upon the moredhel magician, Owyn slipped and fell forward,
which saved his life, for the enraged Nago unleashed a bolt of
shimmering purple-and-grey energy which sped through the spot where Owyn
had been a moment earlier. Rather than strike the lad full on, it
brushed over his back, and where it touched Owyn felt agony, a shocking
pain. His head swam from it, and he felt dizzy.

The muscles in his lower back and legs refused to obey him. He
struggled, but they felt encased in metal bonds.

Rolling. over, Owen saw the magician begin another spell, and without
any other option, Owyn threw his staff at the moredhel.

As he expected, the magician ducked aside, and his spell-casting was
interrupted. Nago shut his eyes, as if in pain, and Owyn knew the enemy
spell-caster was struggling to restart his spell. While only a novice at
magic, Owyn understood enough of it to know that an interrupted spell
could prove painful and that it might take Nago, a few moments to
refocus his thoughts and regain the ability to inflict harm upon his
opponent.

Owyn tried to focus his own thoughts, as if he might throw another spell
to distract Nago a moment longer, but his own thinking was chaotic, his
mind racing with conflicting images. Phrases and concepts previously
unknown to him intruded into his concentration and he couldn't force
himself to come up with any usefid conjuration.

He fumbled in his belt for a dagger and thought to throw that at Nago.

Nago opened his eyes and looked past Owyn, to where the struggle was
ending. Owyn rolled over and saw Gorath running his opponent through,
while Locklear seemed to be getting the best of his own.

Owyn looked over his shoulder at Nago and saw the magician was
hesitating, then starting to turn to flee. 'tie's trying to escape!"Owyn
shouted, but his voice was weak and he didn't know if he had warned his
companions.

Gorath heard and was past Owyn in three huge strides. The moredhel
magician turned and threw something at Gorath, and sparking energies
coursed around the dark elf chieftain. Gorath groaned in pain and
faltered.

Owyn threw his dagger, a weak underhand cast, but one which caused the
butt of the weapon to strike Nago in the temple. As if released from a
prison, Gorath rose up and with a single blow struck

Nago in the neck, nearly severing his head from his body.

Locklear hurried over and helped Owyn to his feet. We could have used a
prisoner, "he observed.

Gorath said, 'These guards know nothing worth learning. And

Nago could not be left alive. While you were trying to question him, he
would have been sending word to his confederates that we are here. "The
dark elf looked down at Owyn who still lay on the floor. 'You did well,
boy. Are you all right? " 'My legs don't work, "he answered. 'I think I
will get them to work in a while. " 'I hope so, "said Locklear. 'I'd
hate to leave you here. " 'I'd hate to be left, "said Owyn.

Gorath looked around. He moved to a large cache of provisions and dug
out some bread and a waterskin. He took a drink, handed it to Locklear
and tore the loaf into three portions, handing one each to the other
two.

Locklear helped Owyn sit up at a table and looked at a map unrolled
there. What have we here? he asked himself as he studied the map.

It was a map of the area south of Hawks Hollow, with guard locations
marked and fresh ink indicating sightings. It was dear that they had
avoided detection from Hawles Hollow to Yellow Mule.

Locklear said, 'Owyn, could Nago have got word out to others that we are
here? "

Owyn felt his legs with his hands as if trying to determine what was
wrong with them and said, 'It's doubtful. I kept him busy and he was
trying to kill us. I can imagine he could do two things at once, but
three is unlikely. If he's got a routine for checking in with

his agents, theyll soon know something is wrong because of his not
contacting them. " 'Then we must be on our way, "said Gorath. 'How far
to Krondor? " 'If we were taking a stroll down the King's Highway
without fear, another two days. By horse, less than a day from here.
Through the woods, maybe three. "

Gorath asked Owyn, 'How long before you can'move? " 'I don't know -
'Then suddenly Owyn's legs moved. 'I guess I can move now, "he said,
rising slowly. 'Interesting, "he said. 'What's interestingy asked
Locklear. 'That spell. It's designed to bind an opponent, but only for a
short while. "

"Why is that interesting? " 'It's some sort of combat magic. They don't
teach that at Stardock. " 'Can you do the same thing? "asked Gorath. 'It
could prove useful. " 'Reallyy asked Locklear dryly. 'I don't know,
"said Owyn. 'When the spell struck me, something happened, a recognition
of some sort. I will think on it, and maybe

I can figure out how he did it. "

Well, figure out how while we're moving, assuming you're ready to go,
"said Locklear around a mouthful of bread. They quickly rummaged through
the cache of supplies and found several dark grey-blue fur-lined cloaks.
'These will serve us well, "said Locklear, still warm from the fight,
but knowing all too well how cold the nights were along the coast this
time of the year. Locklear gathered up the maps and several messages,
all claiming forces were in place for key attacks at various locations
throughout the west. He placed those in a pouch and slung it over his
shoulder.

They left the barn and circled around the darkened farmhouse.

The owner was either sleeping or dead, betrayed by his guests, but
either way they did not wish to spend time finding out. They had three
dangerous days before them and knew there were perils enough along the
route to Krondor without stopping to look for them.

Twice they had avoided assassins or bandits; they didn't know which.

Once they had lain in the mud in a gully next to a woodland path while a
band of armed Quegans had hurried past. Now they stood

behind the last line of trees before open farmland. Beyond they could
see the City of Krondor. 'Impressive, "said Gorath in a neutral tone.
'I've seen Armengar, "said Locklear. 'I am surprised to hear you call
this impressive. " 'It's not the size of the place, "said Gorath. 'It's
the hive of humans within.'For a moment he looked off into the distance,
'You shortlived creatures have no sense of history or your place in this
world, "he said.

You breed like - 'He glanced over to see Locklear's dark expression and
said, 'No matter. There are just a great deal of you at any one tirne in
any one place, it seems, and this is more of you in such a small place.
"He shook his head. 'For my people, such gatherings are alien. " 'Yet
you rallied at Sar-Sargoth, "observed Locklear. 'Yes we did, "said
Gorath. 'To the sorrow of many of us. "

Owyn said, 'Do we just walk across this field to the road?

Locklear said, 'No. Look over there. "He pointed to a place where a
small farm road intersected the King's Highway. A half-dozen men stood
idly by as if waiting for something. 'Not exactly a place to hoist a few
and talk of the days labours, is it? " 'No, "said Owyn. Where do we go
then? " 'Follow me, "said Locklear as he moved along the tree line,
farther east. They reached a long gully, a naturally occurring
watercourse that would be flooded when the thaw came to the mountains to
the north and east, but which currently hosted only a small stream.
'This runs to a place by the eastern gate, in the foulbourgh. "
'Foulbourgh? "asked Gorath. 'The part of the city built outside the
wall. There are ways to get in and out of the city if you know them. The
sewers under the foulbourgh and city proper are not supposed to connect,
so an enemy can't use them to gain entrance. " 'But they do, "supplied
Gorath. 'Yes, in two places, and one of them is as dangerous as walking
up to those men gathered back there and asking for directions to the

Prince's palace. That entrance is controlled by the Thieves'guild. But
the other entrance - well, let's say that besides a friend of mine, only
a few others know of it. " 'How is it you know of it? "asked Gorath.

'My friend and I used it once, a long time ago, to follow Arutha to
Lorien. "

Gorath nodded. We have heard of that encounter. Murmandarnus,s trap to
kill the Lord of the West. " 'That's the one, "said Locklear. 'Now, it
would be a good time to move silently. "

They did as Locklear bid and moved through the gully, until they
encountered a culvert, made of stones polished by the water over the
years. They bent over and walked below the road, as the late-afternoon
shadows lengthened. Finally, the culvert ducked under a small stone
bridge that afforded them a hiding place. It was well shielded from
prying eyes by stores stacked in crates on each side of the road waiting
for transport. Bored workers slowly moved to load them.

We linger a bit, until it gets darker, "said Locklear. 'At the right
time, we need to get up and blend in with some traffic heading along the
road that runs beside this culvert. "He went to the other side of the
bridge and glanced upward, pulling his head back.

Pointing where he had looked, he said, 'Someone's hanging around up
there. "

What do we do? "asked Gorath, obviously as out of his element as
Locklear had been on the mountain trail.

We wait, "said Locklear. 'A patrol from the city watch passes along here
about sundown, and theyll order any armed men to move along.

After dark it gets dangerous outside the wall, and the watch doesn't
like too many swords gathered in one place. "

They sat under the bridge, in the puddles on either side of the stream,
waiting in silence as the hours dragged by. Flies annoyed them, and only
Gorath ignored their presence as Locklear and Owyn spent most of the
time swatting them away.

As sundown approached, Locklear heard the tread of boots upon the
cobbles above. A few voices were raised, and Locklear said, 'Now!"

He moved quickly up the side of the bank just beyond the bridge, ducking
behind some crates as a party of men dispersed under the watchful eye of
the city guard. 'Theyll come this way, back toward the palace, "said
Locklear. We just duck in beside them, and even if we're seen, it's
unlikely we're going to be attacked with a dozen soldiers ready to start
busting heads at the first sign of trouble. "He pointed to Gorath. 'But
you'd better fix that hood. Most people here

wouldn't know an elf from a moredhel if you hung signs around your neck,
but you never know. If Ruthia's fickle, the first person we meet will be
an old vet from the wars to the north. "Ruthia was the Goddess of Luck.

Gorath did as he was told and pulled his hood forward, hiding his
features and when the soldiers walked down the road beside the stream,
he followed Locklear and Owyn as they hurried to match pace with the
soldiers.

They walked from the northeasternmost corner of the city along its
entire length to the southern gate, and when the city watch moved toward
the palace entrance, Locklear pulled them aside.

Owyn said, "Why don't we just follow them in? " 'Look, "said Locklear.
They looked where he pointed and saw a work crew gathered before the
gate, with two teams of horses tied to a pulley. 'It seems someone has
sabotaged the gate, "said Locklear.

The watch commander shouted something down from the wall to the patrol
leader, who saluted and turned his men around. 'Come on, lads, "he said,
'we're for the northern gate. "

Locklear motioned for his companions to follow him and he led them
through a back alley. 'This way, "he urged.

He took them to what appeared to be the back entrance to a small inn,
and opened the gate. Once through, he closed the gate and they stood in
a tiny stabling yard, with a small shed off to one side. Looking to see
if they were observed, Locklear pointed to the rear door of the inn. 'If
anyone finds us, we're lost, looking for a meal and once we get inside
the inn, head toward the front door; if anyone objects, we run like
hell. "

Gorath said, 'Where are we? " 'The back of an inn owned by people who
would be less than pleased to discover we knew about this place, or what
I'm about to do. "He moved toward the shed, but rather than going
inside, he moved to where it joined with the wall. Feeling around behind
the shed, Locklear tripped a lever and a latch clicked. A big stone
rolled away, and Owyn and Gorath could see it was a cleverly-fashioned
sham, made of canvas and painted to look like the rock of the wall.

Locklear was forced to lie down and wiggle feet first through the small
aperture, but he successfully negotiated the entrance. Owyn went next,
and Gorath last, barely clearing the opening.

'Who uses that thing? "asked Owyn in a whisper. 'Children? 'Yes, "said
Locklear. 'The Mockers number many urchins in their ranks and there are
dozens of bolt-holes like that all over the city. "

Where are we? "asked Owyn. 'Use your senses, human, "said Gorath. 'Or
can't your breed smell its own stink? " 'Oh, "Owyn exclaimed, as the
stench of the sewer struck him.

Locklear reached up and pulled shut the trap, leaving them in total
darkness. 'My kind see in darkness better than yours do, Locklear, "said

Gorath, 'but even we must have some light. " 'There should be a lantern
close by, "said Locklear. 'If I can remember the distance ... and
direction. "

What? "asked Gorath. 'You don't know where a light is? " 'I can help,
"said Owyn. A moment later a faint nimbus of light started to glow
around the young man's hand, and it grew until they could see a dozen
paces in all directions. 'How did you do that? "asked Locklear.

Owyn held out his left hand. On it was a ring. 'I took it off Nago.

It's magic. "

Which way? "asked Gorath. 'This way, "said Locklear, leading them into
the sewers of Krondor.

'Where are we?'whispered Owyn.

Locklear lost his sure tone as he said, 'I think we're just north of the
palace. " 'You think? "said Gorath with a snort of contempt. 'All right,
"said Locklear with a petulant tone. 'So I'm a little lost.

I'll find -' 'Your death, quick and messy, "said a voice from outside
the range of Owyn's light.

Three swords cleared their scabbards as Locklear tried to pierce the
gloom beyond the light by force of will.

Who be you and what would you in the Thieves' Highway? "

Locklear cocked his head at the bad attempt at a formal challenge', and,
judging the owner of the voice to be a youth, he answered, 'I be
Seigneur Locklear and I do whatever I will in the Prince's sewers.

If you're half as intelligent as you're trying to sound, you'll know not
to bar our way. "

A young boy stepped forward from the shadows, slender and vvearing a
tunic too large for him, wrapped around the waist with a rope belt,
trousers he had almost outgrown, and sporting a pointed felt cap. He
carried a short sword. 'I'm Limm and fast with a blade.

Step any further without my leave and your blood will flow. "

Gorath said, 'The only thing you'll do is die, boy, if you don't stand
aside. "

If the towering presence of the moredhel chieftain had any effect on the
lad, he hid it as he bravely said, 'I've bested better than you yvhen I
was a boy. "He stepped back, cautiously. 'And besides, I've got five
bashers back there waiting for my call. "

Locklear held up his hand to restrain Gorath. 'You remind me of a young
Jimmy the Hand, "said Locklear. 'Full of bluster as well as guile. Run
off and there's no need for anyone's blood to flow. "

Softly to Gorath he said, 'If he has bashers nearby, we don't need the
trouble. " 'Jimmy the Hand, is it? "asked Limm. Well, if you're friends
of

Seigneur James, we'll let you pass. But when you see him, tell him he
had better come soon or the deal is off. "Before Locklear could answer,
Limm was deep in shadows, so silently they could barely hear him move.
From a distance he said, 'And watch your step, Locklear who knows Jimmy
the Hand. There are nasty customers nearby. "As the voice faded, Limm
added, 'And you're completely turned around.

Turn to the right at the next culvert, and straight on until you reach
the palace. "

Locklear waited, listening for more. But only silence punctuated by the
trickling sound of water and the occasional echo of some distant sound
in the sewer could be heard.

Gorath said, 'That was passing strange. " 'Yes, "agreed Owyn. 'More than
you know, "said Locklear. 'That boy was waiting for my friend James. And
James has the death mark on him from the

Mockers if he ever trespasses their territory. That was a deal struck by
Prince Arutha for James's life years ago. "

Owyn said, 'Sometimes agreements change. " 'Or are broken, "added
Gorath.

Locklear said, Well, we'll sort this out later. Right now we need to
find our way to the palace. " 'What did he mean by "nasty customers
nearby'? asked C1wm 'I don't know, "answered Locklear. 'I have a feeling
if we're not carefi:d we'll find out, "he whispered.

They turned in the direction instructed by Limm and moved to the comer
where he had told them to turn. A short way along the indicated route,
Gorath said, 'Someone ahead. "

Owyn put his ring under his arm, causing the light to diminish. 'Two
men, "whispered Gorath. Wearing black. " 'Which is why I can't see them,
"said Locklear. 'Who are they? asked Owyn.

Locklear turned and knew his withering look was lost in the gloom, so he
said, 'Why don't you just go up and ask them. " 'If they aren't the
Prince's men or those Mockers, then they must be enemies, "said Gorath,
stepping forward quickly, his sword ready to deliver a killing blow.

Locklear hesitated a moment, and by the time he started moving, the dark
elf was upon the two men. The first turned just in time to see his own
death arrive, for Gorath slashed him deeply across the chest and
shoulder.

The second man drew his sword and attempted to slash down on

Gorath's head, but Locklear stepped in and parried the blow high,
allowing Gorath to run him through. It was over in seconds.

Locklear knelt and examined the two bodies. They wore identical trousers
and tunics of black material, and black leather boots. Both men had
short swords and one had laid aside a short bow within easy reach. Both
men were without purse or pouch, but both wore identical medallions
under their tunics. 'Nighthawks!"said Locklear. 'Assassins? "asked Owyn.

I But they should have ..."Locklear shook his head. 'If these two are
Nighthawks, I'm Gorath's grandfather. "

Gorath snorted at the idea, but said, We have heard of your

Nighthawks; some were employed by agents of Murmandamus. "

Owyn said, 'The stories are they had nearly magical abilities. "
'Stories, "said Locklear. 'My friend James faced one on the rooftops of
the city when he was no more than a lad of fourteen years and lived

ten the tale. "Locklear stood. 'They were good, but no more than otherr
men. But the legend helped them get their price. But these, " be
indicated the two dead men, 'were not Nighthawks. "

A whistle sounded from down a nearby tunnel. Gorath spun, his sword
ready to face another attack. Locklear, however, just put two fingers to
his mouth and whistled in return. A moment later a young nian stepped
into the light. 'Locky? "he asked. 'Jimmy!"said Locklear as he embraced
his old friend. We were just speaking of you. "

James, squire of the Prince's court, regarded his best friend. He took
in the long hair gathered behind in a knot and the bushy moustache and
said, What have you done to your hair? " 'I haven't seen you in months
and the first thing you ask about is fashion? asked Locklear.

James grinned. His face was youthful, though he was no longer a boy. He
had curly brown hair he kept cropped short and was dressed in plain
clothing, tunic, trousers, boots and cloak. He carried only a belt
knife. 'What brings you back to court? Arutha banished you for a year,
if memory serves. " 'This moredhel, "said Locklear. 'His name is Gorath
and he brings a warning to Arutha. "Pointing to his other companion, he
said, 'And this is Owyn, son of the Baron of Timons. He's been of great
help to me, also. "

James said, 'A moredhel chieftain in Krondor. Well, things are getting
strange hereabouts, too. "He glanced down at the two dead men. 'Someone
has bribed a few very stupid men to play the part of

Nighthawks, here in the sewers and in other parts of town. "

Why? "asked Locklear.

We don't know, "said James. 'I'm on my way to meet with some ... old
acquaintances of mine. To see if we can cooperate in uncovering who is
behind this mummery. " 'The Mockers, "said Locklear. We ran into one of
them, a lad named Limm. "

James nodded. 'I'm to meet with some of them shortly. I had better not
disappoint them. But before I go, what are you doing down here in the
sewer? "

Locklear said, 'Someone wants Gorath dead very badly. I've been rlut
more times than a horse's flank by a cheap butcher. We're here

because we need to get into the palace, and I've seen lots of very
dangerous-looking men watching the entrances to the palace. When

I tried to get us in by shadowing the city watch trying to enter, we
found the gate damaged. " 'Someone sabotaged it, as well as the north
palace entry. The only way into the palace right now is through the
sea-dock gate, or here. "

Locklear looked concerned. 'They even had the gate jammed to keep us
from reaching the palace? "

James nodded. 'That would explain the mystery. Look, go see

Arutha and I'll catch up with you later. " 'That's the way;1' asked
Locklear. 'Yes, "said James. He fished out a key and handed it to
Locklear. 'But we've locked the secret door so you'd have had a long
wait if I hadn't chanced by. " 'I might have picked the lock, "said
Locklear. 'I've watched you do it a few times. " 'And pigs might fly,
"said James with a pat on his friend's shoulder. 'It's good to see you
back, even if under such dark clouds. "He pointed the way he had come.
'Make your way past two large culverts on the left, and you'll find the
ladder to the palace. "With a departing grin, he added, 'I suggest you
bathe before calling upon Arutha. "

Locklear smiled, then laughed. For the first time in months he suddenly
felt safe. They were but a short walk away from the entrance to the
palace, and he knew that soon he would be enjoying a hot bath. 'Come see
me when you've returned,'he said to James. We have much to catch up on.
" 'I will, "said James.

Locklear led Gorath and Owyn to the ladder that led up into the palace,
a series of iron bars hammered into the stones rising a floor above.
There a grate with a heavy lock had been erected, and

Locklear used the key James had provided to open it. They swung aside
the grate and moved into a small tunnel just above the sewers, leading
into the lower basement of the palace. Locklear silently led them to a
door. Once through, Owyn and Gorath saw they were in another passage,
this one lit by torches in widely separated sconces? and when the door
was returned to its resting place, it vanished into the stone wall.

1,ocklear led them to his quarters, past a pair of palace guards who
only watched with interest as the Prince's squire walked past with
another youth and what looked like a tall elf.

Glancing through a window overlooking the city, Locklear said,
Suppertime's in about an hour. Time for a bath and a change of clothing.
We can talk to the Prince after the meal. "

Gorath said, 'It seems so ... odd to be here. " opening the door to his
quarters, Locklear said, 'Not nearly as odd as having you here. "He
stepped aside to admit his guests, and turned to wave at a page hurrying
down a nearby hall. 'Boy!"he shouted.

The page stopped and turned to run toward him. 'Sir? "he said. 'Send
word to the Prince that I've returned with a message of the gravest
consequence. "

The boy, who knew Locklear well, indulged himself in an observation:
'It'll be grave, all right; your grave, if the Prince doesn't agree,
squire. "

With a playful slap to the side of the head, Locklear sent him off. 'And
pass word I need enough hot water for three baths!"

The boy waved he had heard and said, 'I'll tell the staff, squire. "

Locklear turned into his room and found Owyn sitting on his bed, lying
back against the wall. Gorath stood a short way off, patiently waiting.
Locklear went to his wardrobe and selected some clothing.

We'll send for something closer your size while we bathe, "he said to
Gorath. He took the clothing and handed a tunic and trousers to

Owyn, along with fresh smallclothes, then said, 'This way to the bath,
my friends. "

At the end of the hall he found four servants pouring hot water into a
large tub, while another waited. 'In you go, "he said to Owyn, who
stripped off his filthy garments and climbed into the tub. He settled in
with a satisfied 'ah' sound and rested back in the hot water.

Gorath said, 'Is that third tub for me? "

J was going to take that one, but if you 'Fill Iit with cold water. "

The servants exchanged glances, but Locklear nodded, so they finished
filling the second tub and ran off, turning around a pair

Of servants hurrying from the kitchen with hot buckets. Soon they
returned with cold water and started filling the tub.

Gorath stripped and climbed in, allowing them to pour the cold

water over his head. He endured the cold water without comment.

When they were done bathing and dean clothes had been fetched for
Gorath, Owyn asked, Why cold water? "

We bathe in mountain streams in a land that always sees ice upon the
peaks, "said Gorath. 'This water was too warm for my taste. "

Locklear shrugged. 'You learn something new every day. " 'Yes, "agreed
Gorath. 'You do. "

When they were dressed, they left the bathing chamber to discover a
squad of palace guards waiting for them. We're to escort you to the

Prince, squire. "

Locklear dryly said, 'No need. I know the way. "

The sergeant, a tough old veteran, ignored the young noble's marginal
rank and said, 'The Prince thought there was a need, sir. "

He signalled and two soldiers fell in on either side of Gorath and two
fell in behind him. They moved along the hall until they were ushered
into the dining hall, where Prince Arutha, Princess Anita and their
guests were finishing their dinner.

Arutha, ruler of the Western Realm of the Kingdom of the Isles, sat at
the centre of the head table. He was still a young man. Despite having
ruled the realm for ten years, his face was only now starting to show
the lines which age and responsibility bring. He kept his chin shaved,
so that he still resembled the youth who had emerged a hero of the
Riftwar. His hair was mostly black with a few stray grey hairs beginning
to show, but otherwise he looked much as he had when Locklear had first
come to Krondor, a page boy fresh from his father's court at Land's End.
His brown eyes settled on Locklear with a gaze that had reduced lesser
men to trembling children over the years; Locklear had endured that gaze
many times in the ten years he had served in Arutha's court.

Princess Anita favoured Locklear with a smile, her green eyes alight at
one of her favourite courtiers returning after a long absence.

Locklear, like the other younger men in the court, almost worshipped the
Princess for her effortless grace and genuine charm.

At the table were others known to Locklear: Gardan, Knightmarshal of the
Principality; Duke Brendan, Lord of the Southern

Marches; and others. But near the Princess's seat was one who was
unknown to Locklear; a man wearing the black robe of a Tsurani

Great One. He had receding snow-white hair that fell to his shoulders.

Is eves fastened upon Locklear, and Owyn could sense that this was rnan
who possessed powers rivalled by few in the world. Locklear knew it must
be Makala, the Tsurani Great One come recently to this court' Seigneur,
"began Arutha, formally, 'you were ordered to attend to the needs of the
Earl of Tyr-Sog for a year. By my calculations, you are many months
short of that duty. Have you a persuasive reason for ignoring my orders?
"

Locklear bowed and said, 'Highness. Only the most grave tidings from the
north would have me quit my post and hasten here. This is Gorath,
Chieftain of the Ardanien, who has come to warn you. "

Warn me of what, moredhel? asked Arutha with a suspicious gaze. His
previous experience with the moredhel was murder and deception.

Gorath stepped forward. 'I warn you of war and bloodshed. The war drums
beat at Sar-Sargoth once more and the clans gather. " 'For what purpose?
"asked Arutha. 'Delekhan, Chieftain of the Darkanien, gathers the clans.
He sings songs of power and musters to return south. "

Arutha said, Why?. For what purpose?

Gorath said, 'He swears that Murmandamus lives, and that you hold him
captive in the city of Sethanon. And he swears by the blood of our
ancestors we must return to free our leader. "

Arutha sat stunned. He had killed Murmandamus, though few had witnessed
the duel. He also knew that Murmandamus had been a fraud, perpetrated by
the Pantathian Serpent Priests to gull the moredhel into serving their
dark cause.

Arutha stood. We will speak of this in my private council. "He bowed to
his wife, then motioned to Makala. 'If you would join us? "

The Tsurani magician nodded and rose, and Locklear saw he was

Uriusually tall for a Tsurani, perhaps five feet ten inches in height.

Makala spoke briefly to a servant, who bowed low and hurried off to do
his master's bidding.

Locklear motioned for Owyn and Gorath to accompany him through large
doors on the right of the dining hall, the entrance into the Royal
Familys private apartments. To Gorath he said,'I hope you have more to
tell Arutha than that, or we're both in deep trouble. " 'More trouble
than you know, human, "said Gorath.

FIVE m 0 0 ission

rums thundered across the ridges.

Gorath stood rooted in confiision. Part of him knew this was

Da memory, yet the experience was as real as when he had lived it. He
clutched his hands and looked at them. They were small, a child's hands.
He glanced down and saw bare feet, and he had not gone barefoot since he
was a boy.

Atop the surrounding hills drummers pounded out their insistent rhythms,
as fires burned brightly in the night. Clans long at war with one
another watched for signs of betrayal, but all had come to hear the

Speaker. Gorath stumbled along, his feet leaden with mystic fatigue; no
matter how hard he tried, he could not move quickly.

The peace had fractured; he knew this. He knew his father's people had
been betrayed. He was but twelve summers of age and it should be
centuries before the mantle of leadership fell to him, but fate ruled
otherwise. Without being told he knew his father was dead.

His mother came up behind him and said, 'Move quickly. If you are to
lead, you must first survive. "Her voice echoed and was distant and when
he turned to look back at her, she was gone.

Suddenly he stood dressed in armour and boots; too big for him yet they
were his own. His father had fallen when the Speaker's peace had
dissolved in fury. Like others before him, the Speaker had sought to
raise the banner of Murmandamus, the only leader ever to unite the
numerous clans of the moredhel. Now Gorath, a boy barely able to hold
his dead father's sword, stood before the men of the Hawk Clan, as
dispirited a lot as had ever gathered around the fire. Gorath's mother
tapped him on the shoulder and he turned. 'You must say something, "she
whispered.

Looking at the men of his clan, Gorath could barely make a sound, yet
these warriors, some alive more than a century, waited to hear a boy's
words. The words that were to lift them from the depths of their
hopelessness. Looking from face to face, at last Gorath said, We will
endure. "

A wave of pain gripped Gorath and he fell to his knees, and suddenly he
was a man, kneeling before Bardol, swearing alliance in exchange for
protection. Bardol had no sons and needed a strong husband for his
daughter. Gorath had proven himself a wily leader, taking his people
high up into the great ice mountains, living in caves fined with lichen,
hunting bear and reindeer. For twenty-five years his people had
survived, healed, and when he returned home, he had hunted down his
father's betrayer. He had entered the camp of Jodwah and thrown down the
head of his brother, Ashantuk, at his feet in defiance. Then he had
killed Jodwah in fair combat, and the warriors of the Lahuta, the Eagle
Clan of the Northern Lakes had joined with the Hawk Clan of the Ice
Peaks, and Gorath had emerged the leader of the Ardanien, the flying
hunters in the ancient tongue. And he was but a stripling of
thirty-seven summers, yet he commanded more than a hundred warriors.

Twice more he had come to council called by chieftains who had claimed
rights beyond their reach, and he had watched as battles had bled his
people. He had been clever and kept his people outside such conflicts,
and he had become a man to be sought out, to give counsel, because he
had no ambitions of his own. Many trusted Gorath. He was approaching his
prime and numbered a hundred and six years of age. A thousand swords did
his bidding.

Time was a river, and he swam in it. Wives - two women who had borne him
children - he had seen the first dead from a human arrow: the other had
left him. He had sons and a daughter, though none alive now. For even
Gorath, he who was trusted for his wise counsel and cautious ways, even
he had been swept up in the madness that had been Murmandamus.

The one called Murmandamus had returned, as spoken of in the

Prophecies. He wore the mark of the dragon and possessed great

Powers. He was served by a priest of a far people, a creature who hid in
heavy robes, and first among his followers was Murad,

Chieftain of Clan Badger of the Teeth of the World. Gorath had

seen Murad break a warrior's back over his knee and knew that only the
most powerful leader could command Murad's allegiance. As a sign of
Murmandamus's potency, Murad had cut his own tongue, proof he would
never betray his master.

For the only time in his life, Gorath was caught up in madness.

The blood pounded in his ears in harmony with the thunder of war drums
in the mountain. He had led his army to the edge of the great

Edder, and had fought the mad ones, Old King Redtree's barbarians, and
had held the flank while Murmandamus assaulted the human city of
Sar-Isbandia, what the humans called Armengar.

Thousands had died at Armengar, but his clan was whole. A few had fallen
holding the flank against the forest and on the march through the pass
the humans called Highcastle. There, at Highcastle, he had lost Melos,
his blood kin, son to his mother's sister. There at

Highcastle, a third of the Ardanien had perished.

Then had come Sethanon. The fighting had been brutal, but the city had
been theirs. Yet at the moment of triumph, victory had been taken from
them. Murmandamus had vanished. According to some of the warriors one
moment he had stood in the barbican of the castle at Sethanon, and the
next he was gone. Then the Keshians had arrived, and the Tsurani, and
the battle had turned. The giants recruited from their high villages had
been the first to flee, then the goblins, courageous when victorious,
but quick to panic, had left the battle. It had been Gorath, the only
surviving chieftain at the castle who had been the first to call the
withdrawal. He had come looking for the master, because fighting had
erupted between two rival clans over spoils, and only Murmandamus could
settle the dispute. Humans had escaped because of the fighting. No one
could find the master, and

Gorath had cursed all omens, prophecies and heralds of destruction, and
had returned to gather the Ardanien and lead them northward.

Most of his warriors had survived, but many chieftains labelled

Gorath and his followers as betrayers. For nine summers, the Ardanien
lived in their valley, high up in the northern mountains, keeping their
own counsel. Then had come the call.

The banners were again raised and it was Delekhan, sworn enerny son of
the, man who had slain Gorath's father, and who had died at Gorath's
hands in turn - blood enemy from birth, who rallied the clans. Delekhan
who had eaten with Murad and the snake priest,

AL

and who had been the last surviving member of Murmandamus's council. And
it was Delekhan who vowed that Murmandamus still lived within a prison
in the heart of Sethanon and only by freeing him could the Nations of
the North take back the land seized by the hated humans.

And any who spoke against Delekhan was struck down. Dark magics were
fashioned by the Six, and one by one the opponents of Delekhan's plan
vanished. Gorath knew his day was coming, and knew that he must carry
word to his enemies to the south, for they were his people's only hope.

Night, and he fled through ice and pain. Men who were once as brothers
to him sought to hunt him down and end his life. Haseth, whom Gorath had
taught to hold a sword, last among his blood kin, had led them. It had
been by Gorath's own hands that his last surviving kinsman had died.

Then again, he heard the thundering drums. Again he saw the fires on the
hill, but now he felt his mind returning to the present, memories of his
life fading away slowly ...

The girl was young, not quite seventeen years of age, yet her hair was
nearly white with only the faintest hint of gold in it. Pale eyes of
blue regarded Gorath as she let go of his hands. Behind her stood the
Prince of Krondor, the black-robed Tsurani, and another spell-caster,
one who, while short of stature, was almost exuding power. Others were
nearby, but those Gorath had travelled with, Owyn and Locklear, were in
another room. 'What did you see? "asked the Prince.

J cannot find any falsehoods, Highness, "said the girl in a weary tone.
'But I cannot find the truth, either. His mind is ... alien, chaotic. "

Prince Arutha's brown eyes narrowed as he regarded Gorath. 'He hides his
thoughts? "

The bearded magician said, 'Highness, Gorath is moredhel, and even with
Gamina's exceptional talents for reading thoughts, his mind may have
many innate psychic defences. We have never had the privilege of
studying a moredhel. From what I learned in my time with the eldar -'

At mention of the ancient elven lore keepers, Gorath's eyes narrowed.
'You are Pug, "he said.

Pug nodded. 'I am. "

We have heard of you, who studied with the eldar, "said Gorath.

Arutha said, 'The point? " 'I think he's telling the truth, "said Pug.
'As do I,"said Makala. 'Forgive me, "said the Tsurani magician to Prince
Arutha, 'but I presumed to use my own arts to watch as the Lady Gamina
examined the moredhel. It is as she has stated; there is confusion and
an alien mind there, but no guile. Despite his differences from us, he
is as honest a creature as you will meet. " 'For what cause did you
presume to use your arts without leave? " asked Arutha. His tone was one
of pointed curiosity, rather than anger.

War in the Kingdom would have many wide-ranging consequences not the
least of which would be a disruption of trade between our two worlds,
Your Highness. The Light of Heaven would be most displeased if such
occurred, let alone the risk if such as these -' he indicated Gorath '-
gleaned the secrets of the rift. "

Arutha nodded, his expression thoughtfid. Gorath spoke. 'Trading
agreements notwithstanding, war benefits no one, Prince. Despite that,
you must prepare your army for war. "

Arutha's words were pointed, but his tone was even. What I must or must
not do will be my burden, renegade. And my decisions will be based upon
more than simply the word of one dissident chieftain. If not for
Locklear's faith in you, you'd be in our dungeon making the acquaintance
of our torturer, not holding hands with

Lady Gamina. "

Gorath glared at the Prince of Krondor. 'I would tell you no different
under hot iron, the lash, or the blade, human!"

Pug asked, 'Then why do you betray your own, Gorath? why come to Krondor
with a warning when your nations have sought to dislodge humankind from
this world as long as either race can remember? Why betray Delekhan to
the Kingdom of the Isles? Are you seeking to have our army do what you
cannot do by your own might, and destroy an enemyf

The dark elf studied the magician. Despite his youthful appearance he
was a man of great power, and to this point he had spoken to

Gorath only in tones and terms of respect. Softly, Gorath said,
'Delekhan may be a bitter draught to the Kingdom, but he is poison

in the throats of our people. He enslaves and conquers, and he seeks to
claim greatness, but -' He took a deep breath.

My people are few in number, "he said slowly. We will never count as
inany swords and arrows as you humans. We rely upon those who

Willingly serve us, the goblins, mountain giants, trolls, and renegade
men. "His tone took on a bitter edge. 'Two sons and a daughter I have
nourned, and of two wives, one I have seen travel to join the Mothers
and Fathers, while the other left me for being the one to call retreat
at

Sethanon. My last blood kin died at my own hands the night I met young
Owyn. "He looked directly into Arutha's eyes. 'I can never go back,
Prince of Krondor. I will die in an alien land among people who despise
my race. " 'Then why? "asked Arutha. 'Because my people cannot withstand
another war such as we had at Sethanon. Delekhan appears, wearing the
dragon helm of

Murmandamus, and swords are raised and blood oaths sworn, but while we
have courage and dedication in abundance, we lack strength of numbers.
Should enough of us die in futility again, the Northlands would lie open
to human conquest. We would be as echoes on the wind, for within a
hundred years no moredhel would remain alive. " 'We are content to stay
on this side of the Teeth of the World.

We have no ambitions in the Northlands, "said Arutha. 'You may not, here
in your warm castle in Krondor, Prince, but there are those among your
race would conquer to win a title, and you know this. If one came to
your King with word that he had seized the town of Raglam and had
occupied Harlik, and now controlled a third of the Northlands, would
your King offer him a hereditary title and income from those lands? "
'He would, "admitted Arutha. 'Then you see my point, "said Gorath.

Arutha rubbed his chin. He stood lost in thought a long moment, then
said, 'You are persuasive, Gorath. I will take what Makala and

Gamina say at face value and assume you have no guile in you.

But what now must be decided is if what you know to be true is, indeed,
truth. " 'What do you mean? "demanded Gorath.

Pug said, 'What he means is you may be an unwitting tool. If this

Delekhan knew of your animosity, might he not have given you the

information you seek to bring to us, to cause us to rush to meet him at
some place of his choosing? Pug indicated the maps and notes

Locklear had brought from the barn at Yellow Mule. 'There are at least a
half-dozen false messages here, to be conveniently found by the Prince's
agents, all stressing attacks at unlikely places, Tannerus,

Eggly, Highcastle, even Roniney. "

Gorath's head came up. 'I have heard that name. " 'Romney? "said Arutha.
What do you mean? " 'Only that I have heard Romney mentioned by those
who are in service to Delekhan. There are agents working for him in that
area. "

Would you know them? "

Gorath shook his head in the negative. 'Only a few close to Delekhan
might know who is working for him among the humans: Nago's brother

Narab, his senior most advisor, his son Moraeulf, and the Six. "

Who are the Six? "asked Pug. 'You've mentioned them before. " 'No one
knows. They are swathed in robes as dark as those of your

Tsurani friend and yourself, with deep hoods. " 'Pantathians? "suggested
Pug. 'Not snake priests, I'm certain, "said Gorath. 'They speak as you
or I do, though there is an accent to their voices. Yet, they serve

Delekhan and give him the might to unite the clans. Their magic was
powerful enough to force Nago and Narab to heel on two occasions when
they sought to distance themselves from Delekhan. And among our people,
they were the mightiest of Spellweavers. "

Arutha said, 'Pug, would you bring that map over here, please? "

Pug got the map indicated by the Prince, one of the central third of the
Kingdom. He placed it on the table next to the one brought by Locklear
from Yellow Mule. 'What cause would Delekhan have to operate out of a
river town in the heart of the Kingdom? "

Pug said, 'Perhaps because it is in the heart of the Kingdom? He pointed
to the location. When Murmandamus came against us, he moved through
Highcastle, and crossed the High Wold, moving to the southwest to enter
the Dimwood and strike south to Sethanon.

What if this time Delekhan ran this pass here, and came down the

River Cheston by barge? "

Arutha nodded. 'At Romney he could turn to the River Silden and north of
the City of Silden he could turn westward and force march to Sethanon.
It's his fastest route and his easiest if I've got the Armies

of the West tied up at Lamut and Tannerus and a dozen other places frorn
here to Yabon. He'd be west of the King's Armies, too. "

Arutha looked at Gorath. 'At last something starts to make sense.

Gorath said, 'If I go to Romney, I may be able to find you the proof. "

Arutha said, 'It's a long step from belief to trust, Gorath. Our people
have been enemies too many years for trust to come easily. " 'Send me
with your soldiers, then, "said Gorath. 'Delekhan must be stopped. If
you blunt his attack, send him back to the north with his nose bloodied,
his own supporters will throw him down and my people will be saved. As
will yours. "

Arutha considered, and said, 'I've got just the person to put on this
task. But Jimmy is out conducting some other business for me tight now
'Nighthawks? "asked Gorath.

What do you know of that? "asked Arutha.

Gorath explained the encounters in the sewers with the false

Nighthawks and Squire James.

Arutha nodded. 'Someone's anxious for me to send the army into the
sewers, cleaning out the Mockers while I'm at it. The two things may be
related, but they also may be coincidence. " 'I think them related,
"said Gorath. 'I have not heard anyone speak of the Nighthawks, but I
have heard them speak of Delekhan having sources of information
throughout the Kingdom. "

Makala said, 'And from what young Locklear said, agents working within
the Empire, as well. "He held up the ruby Locklear had returned to him.
'These thefts have been under way for some time now. "The Tsurani
magician looked at Arutha. 'I think these events are all somehow
related. "

Arutha nodded. He looked at Gorath and said, 'I'm returning you to your
room, under guard. I'll send for you in the morning and we'll map out
your journey to Romney. It's weeks out and back by even the fastest
horses, and we need information in as timely a fashion as possible. "

Gorath rose from the table and with a slight nod to Gamina and

Pug, he left the room.

Arutha let out a sigh of frustration. 'So much of what he knows is

based upon overheard conversations and rumour. I believe his warning is
sincere, but is it accurate? "

Knight-Marshal Gardan, who had remained silent while the moredhel was in
the room, said, 'I don't trust him, Highness. We fought them too often
over the years to trust any of them. " 'But what other choice do I have,
Marshal? "asked Arutha. 'If his warning is true, we face another Great
Uprising, and if we don't guess right, we may be in the same situation
as we were last time, with armies racing to converge on Sethanon, with
the moredhel already there. " 'Why Sethanon? "asked Makala, looking at
the map. 'Why do they believe this Murmandamus is imprisoned there? "

Arutha glanced at Pug and said, 'That is where he disappeared.

There's some rumour about the place, and Murmandamus was deluded into
thinking that if he seized that city he would cut the

Kingdom in half and defeat us. "

It was a weak lie, and Pug knew it, but Makala said, 'Often in war
decisions are based on bad assumptions. Is there some proof, though,
that Murmandamus is indeed dead? " 'Only my word, "said Arutha. 'For I
was the one who killed him. "

Makala looked at Arutha and said, 'And we can pretty safely assume they
will not take you at your word, correct?

Arutha nodded.

Pug shook his head in frustration. 'My daughter and I must leave for a
while, but we'll be back, Arutha. I am more concerned by these
mysterious six magicians than all the other news brought by

Gorath. " 'Yes, "said Makala. 'The mysterious magic-users. We of the

Assembly will be glad to aid you, Pug, if we can. just call on us. "

Pug asked, 'Are you coming to Stardock? "

Makala said, 'I have some messages to pen to those back on

Kelewan. I will join you at Stardock soon. "

Pug nodded, took an orb out of his robe and placed his arm around his
daughter's waist. He activated the orb, and, with a buzz, the pair
vanished.

Arutha said, Would that the rest of us could flit from place to place
with such speed. "

Makala said, 'To prevent armies from doing just that is one reason

MY brotherhood of magicians guards these devices so, Highness. We

hall have to be cautious of our part in such matters, though given our
Emperor's disposition -' he referred to the fact that Ichindar,

Emperor oftsuranuanni, was in favour of close ties with the Kingdom you
can expect aid quickly, should you need it. "

Arutha gave him thanks, and Makala and Gardan departed. Prince

Arutha sat in his chamber late into the night, weighing and judging the
warning brought by the renegade moredhel chieftain, and no inatter how
often he wanted to put it aside as a charade, or nothing more than the
jockeying for domination between factions in the moredhel nations, he
couldn't. Another war was coming; he could feel it in his bones.

Unless his prized agent, a former thief turned courtier, could somehow
steal that war out of the very hands of those who sought to unleash it.

Arutha picked up a bell on his table and rang it. Instantly a page
appeared at the door. 'Highness? " 'Send word to the guard to notify me
the moment Seigneur James returns to the palace, whatever the hour. "
'Highness, "said the page, closing the door as he left to do as he was
bid.

Arutha still didn't return to his own quarters, for even having made the
decision to send Jimmy with Gorath to Romney, he had a thousand other
questions to consider, and foremost among them was Who are the Six? "

Gorath was awake as soon as the door began to open. He rose, fists
ready, for while unarmed, he was ready to defend himself.

He was not confident that no assassin could find his way into the
palace. He remembered events from -many years ago where the

Princess of Krondor almost died at the hands of one employed by

Murmandamus.

Gorath relaxed when he saw his visitor was Squire James. 'Greetings '
said the young man.

Greetings, "said Gorath. He sat down in a chair next to a window
overlooking a garden. 'Am I to be questioned again? " 'No, "said James.
We're going on a trip to Rornney. "

Gorath rose. 'As I have nothing to pack, I am ready. " 'Provisions are
prepared, though we will be travelling light. "

Gorath said, 'I expected an escort of at least a fiifl company against
attack on the road to Romney. "

James smiled and said, 'Too much noise and bother. "He reached into his
tunic and pulled out an odd-looking device, an orb with tiny levers on
it that could be adjusted by one's thumb. 'And we're not riding. " 'How
are we getting theref came a voice from behind James.

James turned to find Owyn standing behind him.

We are not going. Gorath and I are. You are staying here or heading home
to Timons, as pleases you. " 'I can't stay here, "said Owyn. 'I've got
nothing to do and I'm not in the Prince's service. And I can't go back
to Timons. What if I'm captured along the way and made to talk? "

James smiled. What do you know? "

I know you're bound for Romney, "said Owyn. 'How do you know that? 'I
know how to read a map and I overheard enough between Gorath and
Locklear to know that's where I'd be heading next. "

Owyn hurried on in his pleading, 'Besides, I'm from the east and know my
way around back there. I've got cousins in Ran, Cavell and

Dolth and have visited Silden and Romney. "

James shook his head as if remembering something, and said, 'Never mind.
I seem to recall that Locklear and I made a similar brief to someone who
didn't want us along, as well, many years ago.

Very well, you can come. It's better to have you underfoot than out of
sight and dead, I guess. "

James led them to an empty room in another part of the castle, where
weapons and travel items were piled. Gorath picked up one sword and
said, 'A lamprey!"

That's a bloodsucker, all right, "said James, 'but why do you call it
that? " 'A name, that's all, "said Gorath. 'My people did not always
live in the mountains, human. Once we abided on the shores of the Bitter

Sea. "He admired the curve of the blade and weighed the heft of the hilt
in his hand. He put the sword back in its scabbard and said, 'I will not
ask how you came to possess a blade fashioned by my people. "

James said, 'As you might expect. "He pointed to three backpacks 'Food
and other stores, for we may have to do some travelling, but

for the most part I hope we're able to conduct our business quickly and
be out of Rornney. " vvhere's Locky? asked Owyn. 'He leaves in an hour
on another mission for the Prince. I will meet with him after we're done
in Romney. This isn't the only iron jr, the fire, so to speak, though it
may be the most important. "

They picked up their belongings, and Owyn asked, 'Now what? "

Again James produced the orb and said, 'Stand close by. Gorath, place
your hand on my shoulder, and Owyn, yours on his. "James put his left
hand on Owyn's shoulder, and with the right, activated the orb.

There was a buzz in the air and the room around them seemed to shimmer.
Suddenly they were in a different room. Where are we? " asked Gorath.
'Malac's Cross.'James crossed to open the door and peered out.

We are in a building owned by friends of the Prince, and I had best
lead, else you may find your head split before you can identify
yourself. "

They were on the second floor of a building. As they descended the
stairs, a monk in plain grey robes turned a corner and stared
openmouthed at them. 'Ah -'he began.

James held up his hand. 'Tell Abbot Graves we're here, brother. "

The monk turned and hurried off to do as he was bid. James led them into
what had obviously once been the common room of an inn. A large man with
a short, grey-shot beard hurried over and said, 'Jimmy, you scoundrel!
What is all this? He indicated Gorath and Owyn. 'Hello, Ethan. A person
of some consequence desires to see us quickly on our way to the east,
and back again. Using that Tsurani device was our fastest start. " 'So
you come from Krondor? "

James nodded yes. 'Have you horses we might borrow? " 'No, but I'll send
a brother over to Yancys stable and get three.

Care to tell me what this is about? " 'No, "said James. 'Frust me. "

The man named Ethan Graves said, We go back a long way, together, lad,
to darker days when I was another man. But while I hold your master in
high regard, my loyalty now lies exclusively with

the temple. If this is some matter of concern to the Temple of Ishap,
you should tell me. "

James shrugged. 'If I can, I will, but at this point all I have is
conjecture and speculation. Still, let me say that it's time to be
wary.,

Graves laughed. We are always wary. Why else buy this inn and turn it
into an abbey on the fly? " 'Are things ... wely

Graves said, 'Go see yourself. You know the spot. "

Will you have horses ready when we return? "

And whatever else you need. " 4 Just horses. We have our necessaries in
hand! He indicated the packs they carried.

He removed his pack and said to the others, 'Come with me. Well be back
for these in an hour. "

They left the inn and Owyn looked over his shoulder. It was a modest
building, two storeys tall, with a stabling yard, a pair of outbuildings
near the barn, and a storage shed. It sat on the outskirts of a
modest-looking town, which stretched off to the east. Monks of

Ishap were hard at work replacing the wooden fence around the end of the
property with stone. 'What is all this? "asked Gorath as they walked
southward, down a path through some woodlands. 'An abandoned inn, which
has been taken over by the Temple of

Ishap. They are converting it to an abbey. " 'To what ends? "asked
Gorath. 'There's something not too far from here they wish to keep an
eye on. '@Which is?'asked Owyn. 'Something neither of you needs to know
about. "

They walked for about ten minutes along a path through the woods

They reached a clearing and Gorath halted, momentarily startled by what
he saw. Rising up before them was a statue, perfect in detail, of a
recumbent dragon, its head upon the ground, its wings unfolding as if it
was just about to rise up. 'What is this? "asked the dark elf. He walked
around it, inspecting it closely. 'This is the Oracle ofaal,'saidjames.
He indicated a votive offe ring plate on the ground before the dragon.

J1

Owyn said, 'I thought it but a legend. " 'Like many legends, one based
in truth, "said James. He motioned to the plate. 'Toss in a coin and
touch the dragon. "

Owyn fished out a silver coin from his pouch and tossed it into tile
plate. A moment before it touched the surface of the plate, the coin
vanished. Owyn reached out and touched the dragon ...

And was someplace else. It was a large chamber; immense was more
accurate, thought Owyn. Air moved in the chamber with the stately
leisure of ages, and before Owyn reared up a dragon of gigantic
proportions, the head resting upon the ground larger than the largest
waggon Owyn had ever seen. The creature's body was resplendent with gems
of all hues. Diamonds predominated, but emeralds, sapphires, rubles and
opals formed patterns that swirled on the dragon's back, and made her
look as though she wore a shimmering rainbow. It was hard to look away.
'I'm asleep?'asked Owyn. 'In a fashion. But quickly, you tread a
dangerous path. What would you ask of the Oracle of Aal? " 'I find
myself caught up in something I don't understand, yet I feel compelled
to continue with my companions. Is this wise? " 'At journeys end you
shall not be as you are now, nor may you ever return the way you have
come. The days ahead of you are filled with hardship and many times to
come you will think yourself less significant than you truly are. " 'Can
I trust the moredhel, Gorath? " 'He is more than even he knows himself
to be. Trust him, though he will not always trust himself. He will
become a great champion, even to those who curse his name and will never
know of his greatness. "

Suddenly Owyn felt his knees go weak and he faltered. Strong hands
grabbed him, holding him upright. He blinked and was again standing
before the statue. What? 'Aye you all right? asked Gorath. 'You touched
the statue and seemed to falter. " 'I was someplace else, "said Owyn.
'How long was I gone? " 'Gone? "said Gorath. 'You weren't gone. You but
touched the statue and staggered slightly, then I grabbed your arm. "
'It seemed longer, "said Owyn.

'It happens that way, sometimes, "said James, touching the stone.

He withdrew his hand a moment later. AVHO gets to speak to the

Oracle is the Oracle's choice. What did she say to you? "

Owyn glanced at Gorath and James. 'Only that I must trust . you both. "
'Did the Oracle say anything useful? asked James, gripping Owyn by the
arm. 'Only that the days ahead are filled with hardship. "

Gorath snorted in contempt. 'As if we need an oracle to tell us that. "

James said, 'Let's get back to the abbey and see if our horses are,
ready. We still have a fair ride ahead. " 'Where are we bound? Salador?
"asked Owyn. 'No, the high road to Silden. It's less travelled and more
dangerous for that, but anyone looking for us is still hanging about
outside

Krondor, I wager, waiting for us to stick our heads out of the palace.

With luck, we will be on the road to Romney before our enemies finally
learn we are no longer in the palace. "

Owyn nodded, and as they began their return to the inn-turnedabbey he
cast a backward glance over his shoulder toward the clearing in which
the dragon statue rested. There was something he had sensed in his dream
state, something he had not spoken of the

Oracle was afraid.

six journey

T he Abbot waved a greeting.

They climbed the trail from the dragon statue to the converted inn, and
found Abbot Graves waiting for them. 'You'd better get into town before
you leave, James, "he said.

Why? asked James, looking for signs of trouble in the Abbot's manner.
'About five minutes after you vanished down that trail, a column of
riders came past here, heading into the city. "

James squinted towards town, as if trying to see the riders. 'Something
was notable about them, else you wouldn't be remarking on them. What? "
'They wore the Kines colours. And unless I don't remember my days as a
thief in Krondor, old Guy du Bas-Tyra himself rode at their head. "
'Thaes something we need to see then, "said James. He motioned for
Gorath and Owyn to faflow him and started walking toward town.

We'u be back in a while, Graves. "

The Abbot waved goodbye, and turned back into the building.

They hurried into the town, heading down the main boulevard, and reached
the town square. There, a fiili squad of riders were dismounting and
tending to their horses before an inn with a chess piece - a white queen
- on its sign. The soldiers were all attired in the livery of the royal
house, black trousers and boots, grey tunics over which each wore a
scarlet tabard a white circle scarlet lion rampant, crowned gold and
holding a sword: the King's coat-of-arms.

A line of purple around the edge of the circle and upon the cuffs of the
tunic showed these were palace guards, those whose first duty

was to the Royal Family. Two guards stood at the door, and one said,
'Easy now, friend. The Duke of Rillanon is taking his ease in the
commons and no one goes in until he's left or without th

Duke's say-so. "01 'Then get yourself inside, soldier, and tell him
Seigneur James of

Krondor is here on the Prince's business. "

The soldier gave James and his companions an appraising look, then went
inside.

A moment later a large man, his grey hair flowing to his shoulders and a
black patch over his left eye, appeared before them. He stood with his
hand upon the door a moment, then waved them in.

Inside the common room, James and the others could see the soldiers of
the King's Royal Guard were efficiently checking out the surroundings.

Guy du Bas-Tyra, Duke of Rillanon and First Counsellor to the

King of Isles, waved them to a table where he sat down heavily. 'Get me
something to drink!"he shouted, and a soldier detailed to be his orderly
hurried to where an intimidated-looking barman waited. The man almost
hurt himself on the edge of the bar trying to bring out a tray of pewter
jacks. He filled them quickly and ran over to place the first one before
Bas-Tyra and then served the others at the table.

He said, Would m'lord care for something to eat? " 'Later, "said Guy,
slowly removing his heavy gloves. 'Something hot for me and my men. Cook
up a side of beef' The innkeeper bowed and backed away, knocking over a
chair at the next table, which he quickly righted. Guy looked at James
and nodded.

James's brow furrowed but he returned the nod. Duke Guy said, 'So,
Arutha is sending you east to snoop around? "

James said, 'That's one way of putting it, Your Grace. "

Guy pointed to Gorath. 'Now, explain to me why I shouldn't cut his heart
out and hang you for being a black-hearted rogue and traitor to the
Crown? "

Gorath's hand tightened slightly on the hilt of his sword, but he didn't
move. Owyn's face drained of colour, but he saw James smile. 'Because it
would irritate Arutha?

Guy laughed. 'You haven't lost any of that mouth, have you,

Jimmy? "

The young man said, 'I probably never will. We've been through

too Inuch for you to seriously wonder about where my loyalties lie, so I
judged you were taking out your bad temper on me because you couldn't
take it out on Arutha. Whys he got you so peeved? "

The Duke of Rillanon, most powerful noble in the Kingdom after the Royal
Family, leaned back in his plain wooden chair and made an A-encompassing
gesture around him. 'This. Because I'm here in a town whose only excuse
for existing is its location between Krondor and Salador, and because
Lyarn is concerned about reports that have been coming to the court of
renegade moredhel - 'he locked his one good eye on Gorath ' - and some
other unsavoury types running loose between here and Romney. "

Why you? 'A variety of reasons, "said the Duke. He took a long drink of
ale.

J usually don't drink this early in the day, but I'm usually not riding
all night, either. " 'Those other unsavoury types wouldn't be
Nighthawks, would they? "asked James. 'They might be, "said Guy. What's
Arutha hearing? " 'Nothing until I get back and report, "said James.
'But on the way into the city, Locky and these two found a pair of
frauds playing the part of the Guild of Death. "

Guy looked off into the distance for a moment, as if weighing his words.
'If you were trying to revive the Nighthawks, "he posed to

James, 'and you wanted someone to think that you weren't, how useful
would it be to have a bunch of bunglers found out as false

Nighthawks?

James's eyes widened. 'Brilliant! It would take attention off what I was
really trying to do, I would have some pawns to offer up as a sacrifice,
and the people I'm the most worried about wouldn't take me seriously. "
'Look deep, Jimmy,'said Guy.'Find who's really behind the troubles we're
having. There's an old axiom: absent any contrary information, assume
your enemy will act intelligent,@. The coronary of that is: act stupid,
and your enemy won't take you serious,@."

James said, 'You still haven't said why you're here. "

Guy nodded. 'The King wanted me to personally take a hand in this
region. It seems some of our local nobles are suspect. " 'Of treason? "

'Not that, though it might be a remote possibility. "Guy finished his
ale. 'Rather, they're suspected of incompetence. My lord, the Earl of
Romney, has a guild war about to break out, and seems unable to do
anything about it. I ordered a company of Royal Lancers to head that way
to bail him out as I left; they should be arriving some tirne in the
next week. "

What sort of war? "asked James. 'I don't know the details, but it seems
the Brotherhood of Riverpullers has raised prices to the point where
merchants can't afford to have their goods hauled up or down the river,
and the other guilds are lining up in opposition to the Riverpullers.
Both sides are hiring, swords, and, for all I know, the Earl of Romney
has declared martial law by now. Hell, for all I know, the city is in
flaming ruin.'He slapped the table for emphasis, as if he didn't care
whether Romney did go up in flames. 'And besides this tour to get things
in hand, we're showing the King is personally interested; the banners
are waving in front of people who need to see them, and I'm also
required by His Majesty to give a lecture tonight. ) 'Lecture? "asked
James, barely able to keep from laughing. 'On what? And to whom? "

Guy sighed. 'On the Battle of Armengar, and to anyone who wants to
listen. "He shook his head as if he couldn't believe his own words.

You know that thug, Graves, who the Ishapians sent here to start that
new abbey? "

James nodded. 'I knew Ethan before he heard the call. He was a rough one
in those days; one of the better bashers in the Mockers! 'I can believe
it. In any event, he has decided, or rather the Ishapian

Temple in Rillanon has decided, that a school is to be built here, in

Malac's Cross, "the centre of the Kingdom", and that young nobles are to
attend. They call it a collegium! He lowered his voice a bit. 'I think
theyre distrustful of what our friend Pug is doing down in Stardock and
think they may gain by having a similar venue for influencing the young
nobles of the Kingdom. And I think they also want a base near ..."His
eyes flickered from Gorath to Owyn, and he let his words lapse.

James knew what he was about to say: near Sethanon and the

Lifestone, so all he did was nod slightly. Glancing around the

foor, "James said, 'I don't notice a lot of young nobles in the rea,
Guy. "

Guy reached across the table and attempted to give James a playful slap
to the head, which James adroitly avoided. 'You always were a smart
mouth, Jimmy, and you always will be a smart mouth.'James grinned. 'Even
if you some day get your wish and connive to be 1,arned Duke of Krondor,
you'll still be a smart mouth. "

James laughed. 'Maybe. Now, where are these young nobles? "

Guy sighed. 'A few will wander in from surrounding estates, no doubt.
That's why I rode all night to get here. Damn weather had my ship
reaching Salador two days late, so I'm riding through the night so as
not to make a liar out of the King. "He took another sip of ale. 'And
it's why I want you to attend the lecture tonight. If s in a house down
near the eastern edge of the town. You won't be able to miss it; it'll
be the one with all the Royal Guardsmen standing in front of it. "He
stood up, and James did as well, Owyn and Gorath a moment after. 'Lyarn
asked me to do this while I was making arrangements along the frontier
with the Western Realm, and as a favour to the

Ishapian Temple. I, loyal duke that I am, could hardly say no to my
king. You, loyal squire that you are, cannot say no to me. You will
attend the lecture this evening as my claque, seigneur. Now, I'm going
to see to my men, and then I plan on getting some sleep. "

The Duke departed, heading upstairs to the rooms set aside for him.
Gorath turned to James and said, 'What is a claque?

James laughed. 'Theatre owners hire them to cheer loudly at
performances, to gull the uninformed into thinking the play was
brilliant. It gets quite funny sometimes. Five or six people will be
cheering wildly, while the rest of the audience is booing and throwing
rotten vegetables at the actors. "

Gorath finished his ale and shook his head in dismay. 'Humans. "

The innkeeper came over and said, 'Anything else, gentlemen? "

He studied James's face for a long moment, then said, 'Sorry.

Thought you were someone else. "Clearing his throat, he repeated,
'Anything else? 'If I don't get food on top of that ale, I'll be asleep
in an hour, " said Owyn. 'I've never drunk so early in the day. "

Gorath let out a disapproving grunt, but said nothing.

James said, 'Whatever food you're serving, ah ... ?"

'Ivan's the name, sir, "he said, bowing as he turned to leave.

The door to the tavern opened and three men entered. James,

Gorath and Owyn all looked, their mission making them wary.

The three men were locals, and one was carrying a chess set.

They set it up on a table and two began to play while the third watched.

Ivan returned and served the food: cold meats, cheese, spiced greens and
sweetened apples. He put the platter on the table and said, 'More ale? "

James nodded. Another pair of men came to set up another game of chess
and James said, This goes on here a lot? "

Ivan nodded. 'The Queen's Row, sir? The chess piece on the sign means
something. Old man Bargist, who opened this inn some thirty years ago,
was a fair player, and since then, well, travellers and locals alike
know that this is where you come to play a match if you want to test
your mettle. You play, sir? " 'Not well, "said James. 'My ... employer
plays very well, and has taught me the basics. " 'You can always find
someone here willing to play, "he said as he departed to see what the
soldiers were ordering.

The door opened and a ragged old woman slipped through, dosing it behind
her. She came across the room and stood next to James. 'I thought you
gone up to Lyton, Lysle. And where did you get those clothes? "She felt
the fabric of his tunic at the shoulder. 'Must have snitched them off a
baron, from the feel of them. "She squinted at

James as if she had trouble seeing him. 'I think you have mistaken me
for someone else. My name is

James -' 'Jarnes, is it? "she interrupted Well, then, if ies James, then
it's

James. "She nudged him with her elbow and winked. 'Like the time you
chewed soap and walked a ' round foaming at the mouth, eh, dearie?

Taking alms from the gullible? If you say so. Be a love and buy old

Petrumh some food, will you? "She then noticed Gorath and said,

What are you doing with an elf, boy? Don't you know theyre bad luck?
Theyre the ones killed my old man Jack, and theyre causing all that
trouble up at Sethanon. What are you thinking? "

James asked, What trouble in Sethanon? "

She leaned down, and blinked, studying James's face. 'You're not

Ly'sle!"she said. Slapping him weakly on the shoulder she said, What arc
you doing with his face? "Her hands came up to her mouth and she stepped
back. 'Ow!"she cried. 'You're an evil fairy, that's it! You've taken
Lysle's form to trick me!"

James put up his hands. 'Madam! We are not evil fairies. " 'And I am not
an eltl' grumbled Gorath under his breath.

The old woman leaned forward again. Well, you don't look evil, that's a
fact. But you could be Lysle's twin, and that's also a fact. "

James waved Ivan over and gave him a coin. 'See the woman gets some
food, "he instructed. To Petrumh, he said, 'You say this Lysle has gone
to Lyton? " 'Left a few days ago, he did, "she agreed. 'Said he was to
meet a gentleman there. I suspect he'll be in trouble, sorry to say.
That's

Lysle. Has a knack for trouble, he does. And I doubt the bloke he's
meeting is a gentleman. "

Ivan took the woman by the elbow and moved her to a corner table and sat
her down before food. She dug in without looking up and

James turned his attention to his companions. 'A double? said Gorath.

Owyn said, 'Could someone have put a lookalike on the road to

Romney ahead of us?

James shrugged. 'Maybe. It's been done before. I saw a double of the
Prince years ago in the sewers of Krondor. If it hadn't have been for
muddy boots, he might have convinced people he was Arutha and played
havoc with things for a while. "He shook his head and said, 'But I doubt
it. From what the old woman said, this fellow

Lysle's been around here a while. It may just be a coincidence. A while
back some fellows up in Tannerus kept trying to beat me up for something
done by some other fellow until I convinced them

I wasn't that person. Twice, in less than a year, makes me think there's
someone walking around who resembles me, and from what

I've heard, he's not doing me any favours with the resemblance. "He
waved the innkeeper over. 'Have you seen me before? "asked James. 'Can't
say as I have, "said Ivan. 'But you thought you had, earlier, "observed
James. 'No, I said I thought you were someone else. " 'Who? "asked
James.

'Lysle Riggers, "said Ivan. 'Local scoundrel, truth to tell. Has his
hands in a lot of ... questionable activities. Still, he's also a good
rnan to know if you need something done, if you know what I mean. "

J do, "said James. 'Have you known this fellow long? " 'On and off, off
and on, maybe ten years or so, "said Ivan. comes and he goes. Sometimes
he's here for a month, then gone'a year, other times he's here a year,
then gone a month. Never can say what he's up to. "He looked at all
three in turn. 'Can I get you anything else? 'No, that will be all,
"said James.

What now? "asked Owyn, yawning from the effects of drinking early in the
day.

James said, 'I'm heading back to chat with my old friend Graves.

You might do well with a nap. And tonight we'll go listen to Duke

Guy lecture local youths about the Battle of Armengar. "

Gorath said, J may stay here. I already know about Armengar. I was
there. "

James grinned. 'So was I. But we'll go. It's not politic to disappoint a
duke, my friend. It can cause troubles if you do. "

Gorath's answer was an inarticulate snort, but he stood and said, 'I am
going to scout around. From what the old woman said, som@ of my people
may have been nearby. I will look for any signs. 'Good, "said James,
standing up. We all have something to do. "

James and Gorath left, and Owyn went to where Ivan stood cleaning
glasses behind the bar. 'Could I rent a room for tonight? he asked.
'Normally I'd be happy to oblige, "said Ivan. 'But the King's me have
taken them all. "

Owyn asked, 'Is there another inn nearby? " 'There's one a half days
ride to the west, though I wouldn't recommend it. And there's another a
half days ride to the east, but I wouldn't recommend it, either. "
'Perhaps a spot in your barn? " 'King's men won't allow it, lad. Sorry.
"

Owyn turned away and decided to catch up with James. If he couldn't nap,
perhaps he might find something interesting to study at the Ishapian
abbey.

Much to James's surprise, there were a fair number of attendees at

Guy's lecture on the Battle of Armengar. Owyn sat nearby looking sleepy.
He had returned to the makeshift abbey and managed to find some books to
read. He had become engrossed in one that touched on magic and found
several things of interest.

During the talk James had elbowed Owyn twice as the young man was about
to drop off to sleep. As the lecture wrapped up, James was forced to
admit the old commander of the defences at Armengar had been truly
brilliant in his tactics. The mere fact that a fair number of survivors
reached Yabon safely while the Teeth of the World had swarmed with
goblins and moredhel looking for human refugees had been an
accomplishment.

The audience applauded politely when Guy concluded his remarks and
several young nobles from the area approached to talk to the

Duke. James said, Wait here, "and went to make his goodbyes to Guy.

When he returned, he said, 'Let's go. "

Where?'asked Owyn. 'There's nowhere to sleep in town. "

We can sleep on the floor at the abbey and get a fresh start in the
morning. " 'Good, "said Owyn yawning. 'I'm all in. " 'You'd better learn
to hold your ale, Owyn, "said Jimmy with a grin.

They moved down the road and James wasn't surprised to find

Gorath suddenly beside them, though Owyn nearly leaped sideways when the
dark elf materialized out of the evening gloom. 'Find anything? "asked
James. 'Tracks. Moredhel have been through here recently. "

What else? " 'A fair number of people are passing to the north of town,
not through it. "

We can assume they don't wish to be seen. Which way were they going,
east or west? " 'Both. A lot of people moving in both directions, but
keeping out of sight. "

James shook his head in consternation. 'Damn, I don't like any of this.
"

They remained silent as they reached the abbey. Well, "said

Graves, as they entered the former common room, 'how was the lecture? "
'Could have used a singer, "said James with a straight face. 'Duke Arm
and de Sevigny will be lecturing here next month, "said

Graves, 'and Baldwin de la Troville the month after!

James assured him, 'I'll try not to miss the lectures. Have you a place
we can sleep tonight? " 'You're welcome to bed down under the tables
here in the conni mons, Jimmy; but the rooms upstairs are being used by
the brothe or for storage! 'Under the tables will be fine, "said Owyn,
unrolling his beddi from his travel bundle. Gorath did likewise without
comment.

James sat opposite the thief-turned-deric and, keeping his voice low,
said, Why here, Ethan? "

The Abbot shrugged. 'I don't know, Jimmy. You know the order wants to be
close to Sethanon, "he said. 'There's a rough village forming up a few
miles south of the old city but nothing you'd call a proper town. It's
still a decent trading route, though, and some folks seek to profit by
caravans and traders passing by. It would be too obvious for us to try
to build an abbey there. But here we can be circumspect and still send a
brother up there to snoop around from time to time, just to ensure
nothing disturbs the status quo. " 'I noticed the next two lecturers are
men Bas-Tyra trusts!

Graves nodded. 'There're too many strange things going on for him to do
otherwise. Some of the other nobles ...'he shrugged. 'They're not as
trustworthy as they could be. " 'You don't think treason, do you? " 'I
don't know what to think, "said Graves. 'I'm a former thief who has been
handpicked by the temple in Rillanon for a potentially difficult, even
critical assignment! He looked down as if afraid to look James in the
eyes. 'I don't know if I'm equal to the task. " 'I've never heard you
act the shy role before, Ethan!

Graves sighed. 'There's a lot you don't know, Jimmy. I have some old ...
ties, you could say. They aren't easily broken. You know how it is!

James laughed. 'Better than most. I have a death mark on me from the
Mockers if I cross their boundaries, yet I do so all the time. And n

they conveniently ignore my trespass when it suits them. I know what you
mean, I think!

Graves said, 'I hope when the time comes you do know what I rne@ui. "He
stood up. 'I must retire. There's a great deal to be done around here.
Have a good night, Jimmy. " 'You too, Ethan. "

James undid his own bedding and lay down next to Owyn, who was already
fast asleep. As he drifted off himself, he wondered just what

Graves had meant by 'when the time comes'.

The north wind cut through the night. James huddled under his cloak as
the three stayed dose to their fire. The road from Malac's Cross to
Silden was far less travelled than the King's Highway to Salador, but it
was a more direct route. Behind them, the three horses James had
purchased, along with tack, were quietly eating the grain he had bought
for them.

Owyn said, 'James, I'm worried about something and I've been rneaning to
talk to you about it since we left Malac's Cross. "

Gorath said, 'You have seemed troubled. "

James asked, What is it? " 'I don't know exactly, but it's something I
picked up from the

Oracle ... A sense of foreboding. " 'Given our circurnstances, "said
Gorath, 'that is not particularly inappropriate. "

What do you mean? "asked James, looking intently at Owyn. 'It's like the
Oracle was worried. "

James was silent, then said, 'I'm no expert, and I've never seen the

Oracle myself, but from what I hear, the Oracle can tell futures, but
not her own. " 'Futures? "said Gorath.

James paused, then said, 'Maybe I'm telling it wrong, but the rnagician
Pug once told me that the future is not set in stone, but the result of
many acts, and that by changing an act today, the future changes. "

Owyn said, 'As if you had not come south, Gorath, Delekhan's plans would
be further along. " 'I understand that, "said Gorath. 'But if the future
is fluid, what good is an Oracle? "

James shrugged. 'There is a great deal of wisdom in this Oracle, I have
been told. "

Owyn looked at Gorath and said, 'I think James is right. But I still
don't know about that feeling of worry. " 'Perhaps the Oracle's fate is
bound up in what we do, "suggested

Gorath. Then it would be difficult for her to see the future, if what

James said is correct. Perhaps that is the source of the worry. "

James said nothing. He was one of the few who knew of the existence of
the Lifestone under Sethanon. Only a handful of those who had been at
the battle knew of the magic relic from the time of the Dragon Lords.
Few knew that the Oracle of Aal was the guardian of the Lifestone and
resided in a vast chamber below the

City of Sethanon.

The statue at Malac's Cross was designed to mislead those who knew
nothing of the dragon Oracle's existence. Should any come seeking the
Oracle, it provided the means for them to contact her without actually
being in her presence.

James said, 'I'm trying to puzzle together some things. We have

Tsurani Great Ones getting their riches stolen, so that Tsurani
renegades can sell them to moredhel raiders, who swap them for weapons.
We have a false Guild of Death, maybe to mask some real

Nighthawks who survived the night we burned their headquarters to the
ground in Krondor, and a lot of false trails in the west predicting an
invasion from the north. "

Gorath said, 'My people will proceed cautiously. They will want some
indication from Delekhan that Murmandamus indeed is alive in

Sethanon, being held there against his will, before they win march. "

James said, 'No offence to your people, but that sort of "proof' is easy
to make. " 'Agreed, "said Gorath, 'which is why Delekhan is attempting
to remove all of us who were in opposition to him. "

James lay back, wrapping the cloak around him. Well, we may find answers
or we may not, but right now I could use some sleep. " 'You going to
look for that double of yours in Lyton? asked

Owyn. 'It's on the way, "said James. 'Might as well while we're passing
through town. "

Owyn rolled over, trying to get close enough to the fire to stay warm
without burning himself. Gorath just lay silently, until he was asleep.

Sleep was a long time in coming forjames as he wrestled with all the
fragments and clues he had. Somewhere in all this apparent chaos was a
Pattern; somehow all the pieces came together and made sense.

The ride to Lyton was uneventful until they reached the outskirts of the
town at sundown. Off the side of the road stood a forlorn farm,
abandoned by the look of it, with a ramshackle barn, around which
skulked black-clad figures.

Gorath saw them first, and James said, 'I wouldn't have even noticed
them if you hadn't pointed them out to me. " 'There are four of them,
and they seem very curious as to the contents of that abandoned barn,
"said the dark elf. james said, 'My bump of trouble is itching like mad.
I think we've found our real Nighthawks. "

Owyn said, 'What do we do? "

Pulling out his sword, James replied, 'Kill them before they notice us,
if we're lucky. " fle turned his horse off the road and moved forward at
a trot. They travelled across an abandoned field overgrown with tall
grass which rose to chest height on the horses. It masked their movement
for a while, as the dark-dad figures seemed intent on the barn, which
allowed James and his companions to reach the edge of the field before
being seen.

The assassin who first saw them shouted and two others turned, as James
spurred his horse forward to charge. One of the black-clad men carried a
sword and readied himself to strike at James, while another leaped out
of the way. At the corner of the barn, a third figure easily drew an
arrow and nocked it to his bow, pulling back in a fluid draw. Suddenly a
dark nimbus of energy splashed the side of the barn, missing him, but
distracting him enough that he fen back without shooting.

Gorath upon the second man was leaping from the back of his horse, while
James engaged the first. Owyn cursed as he realized that while he had
managed to unravel the mystery of the spell Nago had thrown at him and
could now duplicate it, he couldn't control it very well. He hoisted his
staff over his head like a war dub and rode toward the bowman, trying to
strike him before he could loose his arrow.

Gorath crushed his opponent's throat with the flat of his blade, a d
rose up to see James having difficulty with his man, while Own rod,
around flailing at the third with his staff. The bowman was sso bus@
trying to keep from having his head stove in by Owyn's staff he couldn't
stop long enough to shoot. He finally tossed down his bow and tried to
draw his sword.

James saw Gorath standing uncertain of which way to move, and shouted,
'Find the fourth one!"

Gorath was off without another word, moving around the corner to find
the door of the barn open. Inside was darkness to confound the human
eye, but to the dark elf it was a pattern of darkness and light, greys
and darker greys. He saw movement in the rafters above and along one
wall to his left. He waited.

A moment later the figure in the rafters slipped, causing some hay to
fall, and the figure near the wall let fly with an arrow in the
direction of the sound. Gorath charged. Before the Nighthawk could pull
and fire again, the dark elf was upon him.

The struggle lasted mere seconds as Gorath quickly killed his man.

Outside Jimmy bested his own and turned his attention to the one

Owyn-harried.

When the fighting was over, James and Owyn entered the barn and James
said, 'What's here? "

Gorath pointed up to the rafters and announced, 'Someone hides up there.
"

James said, 'Come down. We mean you no harm. "

A man lowered himself from the rafters, hanging by his hands a moment
before releasing his hold and dropping to the dirt floor.

He landed nimbly on his toes and looked at his rescuers. 'Thanks, " he
said.

The man moved toward them and when he stopped a few feet away, Owyn
said,'Gods!"

James looked at the man, who looked enough like him to be his twin. 'You
must be Lysle, "said James. 'Why do you assume that? "asked the man.
'Because people keep mistaking me for you, "said James, moving around so
he faced the door and the scant light from outside could strike his
features. 'It got me almost murdered by some unhappy folk, up in
Tannerus some months back. "

Thc man laughed. 'Sorry, but they're waiting for me to return with some
items they sent me to purchase on their behalf. I've been distracted and
am overdue in getting back there.'He paused a moment, then said, 'You do
look enough like me to confuse people, it's true. I'm

Lysle Riggers. " I'm James, from Krondor, "came the reply. 'These are my
friends, owyn and Gorath. We were on our way to Romney and when we were
in Malac's Cross an old woman thought I was you. " 'Old Petrumh, "said
Lysle. 'She's a little crazy. She's been that way since her husband died
in a fire. Most of the folks in town give her something to eat or let
her sleep in their barns. For some reason she's taken to telling
everyone she's my gran. "He shook his head. 'Care to tell us why a bunch
of Nighthawks are trying to kill you? " 'Nighthawks? "asked Riggers,
shrugging. 'Assassins? Can't say as I would know why. Maybe they thought
I was you. "

Gorath looked at James and said nothing. Owyn said, 'Maybe

James cut him off. 'No, someone wants you dead, Riggers. Let's head into
town and maybe by the time we get there you'll remember why. "

The man looked at the three before him as if weighing the possibility of
flight or resistance. Obviously discarding either as an option, he
nodded. 'Let's go. The Wayside is a decent enough inn, and I could use
an ale after all this. " 'Check the bodies, "said James. Gorath and Owyn
went outside to do so. 'You have anything you need to fetch? "asked
James.

Riggers said, 'No. I had a sword, but lost it somewhere back in the
woods running from those four. It wasn't a very good one. I'll take one
off the dead outside. "

Moving outside, James said, 'Fair enough. "

Owyn said,'Theyre carrying nothing, James. No papers, no money, nothing.
just weapons and those black clothes. "

Gorath came over and said, 'And these, "as he held up a medallion with a
hawk on it.

James took it, inspected it, and threw it to the ground. 'These are the
real Nighthawks, "he said. 'Not those frauds down in Krondor. "

Trauds? "asked Riggers.

It's a long story. "

'Good, "said Riggers. 'That means a second ale. Let's go. "He set off
toward the distant lights of the town, while the others mounted up.

Owyn rode next to Jimmy and said, 'For a fellow who was about to be
chopped up by assassins, he's pretty cheerfid. " 'Yes, he is, "said
James.

They followed their new acquaintance into town.

SEVEN

Murders

T he inn was crowded.

Lysle Riggers led James, Gorath and Owyn into The Wayside, a tavern
whose location was reflected in its name, situated as it was just on the
edge of the city, and a good walk from the main street.

But it seemed a popular place, with workingmen, armed fighters and some
unsavoury-looking sorts packing the common room.

James and his companions had left their horses with the lad who worked
in the stabling yard, giving instructions for their care, and followed
Lysle inside.

Lysle led them over to a table in the corner. He motioned for them to
sit and waved to the barman, who hurried over to take their order.

James ordered a round of ale and some food, and the barman offered a
quick glance between him and Riggers, but said nothing as he headed back
to the kitchen.

Riggers said, Well, then, I owe you a story. " 'A long one, you said,
"observed Gorath.

Riggers said, 'And you shall have it, but I have one question.

What brought you so fortuitously to my rescue? "He studied James a
moment, then said, 'If it was pure chance, then fate has a curious sense
of humour, my friend. "

James said, 'It was chance of a sort, though I had heard your name down
in Malac's Cross, as a few people seemed to think I was you. As to how
we came to your rescue, that was pure chance, though we were on the
lookout for just the sort of trouble you found yourself in. "

Toli recognized my assailants, "Riggers said, lowering his voice.
'041ously you know more than the average mercenary. "He jerked

A toward Gorath. 'His kind have been seen around here in

increasing numbers lately, though rarely openly walking around humans.
All of which leads me to think you're someone about

I need to know more before I launch into my long story. "Whorn

James grinned. Riggers returned the grin and again the others were
struck at the resemblance. Owyn said, 'If you're not brothers, the gods
have a fine sense of whimsy. " 'That they do, "said Riggers,
'irrespective of any other thing. "

James said, 'Here's what I can tell you. I'm working for people who
presently have no reason to want you dead, Riggers. Let's not give them
one. They are also people who are at odds with those employing your
would-be killers. " 'And the enemy of my enemy is myjr-iend, "said
Riggers, quoting the old truism. 'To a point, "said James. 'At this time
I like to think we may have more reasons to help one another than not. "

Riggers was silent for a minute, then the food arrived, giving him
another moment of respite as he took a slice of cheese and laid it over
warm bread. After the ale arrived and he took a long pull on his mug, he
said, 'Allow me to be a little circumspect, and I'll ten you What I can.
'I represent interests in Krondor, well established and well connected
They have trading relationships throughout the Kingdom, and into Kesh
and across the Bitter Sea to Natal. Lately theyve been harried by a new
competitor, who seeks to disrupt established business relationships and
carve out a new trading ernpire. "

James considered this a moment, then said, 'Care to name your principals
or your new competition? "

Lysle's grin stayed in place, but the humour left his eyes. 'No, to the
first, but the second is a personage of some mystery. He's called "the
Crawler" by some. "

James leaned forward and spoke low enough that only those at the table
might hear him. 'I'm Seigneur James, of the Prince's court, so I'm the
King's man. But I was also known for a time as Jimmy the Hand, so I know
of whom you speak. "There's a Party at Mother's"." And a good time will
be had by all, " finished Riggers. 'You're

Jimmy the Hand? I never would have believed it. "He sat back. " don't
visit Krondor much. My ... employer prefers I stay out he,c in the east.
But tales of your rise have travelled far and wide. "

IN@KUN LJUK; I H b Dh I KAY A L IU7 qt nay be we have more in common
than you know, "said James. lie t,ld of the false Nighthawks in the
sewers of Krondor and the susplcion that someone was trying to finesse
the Prince into raijing the Mockers' hideouts in an attempt to find
those false rqighthawks. 'That sounds like the Crawler, "said Lysle. 'He
would happily set crown against Mockers, and sit back and watch. If the
Mockers somehow survived, they would be weakened enough that they
couldn't oppose him; if they were destroyed, he could move in and take
their place. "

That's unlikely as long as Arutha's in Krondor, "said James. 'He's too
savvy to get sucked into that obvious a ploy. What is of real concern to
us is the existence of these genuine Nighthawks, the ones who were
seeking to separate your head from your shoulders. " 'I won't even ask
why, "said Lysle. 'I'll assume that it has sormething to do with the
good of the Kingdom. " 'They had a strong hand in repeated attempts to
kill Prince Arutha ten years ago. If theyre the survivors of that first
bunch, or someone else is attempting to trade on their reputation,
either way theyre a menace. What can you tell us about them? "

Lysle sat back. 'I'm off for Tannerus in the morning - to put right that
little matter that almost got you beaten to death when you were last
there - so I'll tell you what I know. There's two places this Crawler
seems to have taken a foothold. I hear he's got a lot of the crime on
the docks in Durbin under his control, and he's dislodged the locals
over in Silden. The Mockers were never strong outside Krondor, but they
always had good working relationships throughout the Bitter Sea, and a
lot of influence in Silden. Lately problems in several Bitter Sea

Ports have put a crimp on Mocker business and those friendly to the

Mockers have vanished in Silden. But the real pot about to boil over is
up north; there's a lot of confiision in Romney right now, and from what
I can gather, a lot of this Nighthawk business is being

"In through there. "

We've heard of some problems there. " 'The Riverpullers' Guild? "asked
Lysle.

James nodded. it 7hat's the Crawler, "continued Lysle. 'He staris at the
docks, making difficult for cargo to get in and out of a city, and wears
down both the

merchants and local thieves. After a while, people start paying
protection to get their goods in, and once he's in their pockets, he
never leaves. Damon Reeves is the head of the Riverpullers, and he's an
honest man, but someone near him has been whispering in his ear. "

James said, 'You think this Crawler is behind the revived Nighthawks '
'I don't know what to think. He may have tired of me flitting around
causing him troubles and put a price on my head. Or he might be behind
them. Or it might be someone else wants me dead for entirely different
reasons. I've made a few enemies in my time. "

Lysle grinned at that. 'I have no doubt, "said Gorath, dryly.

"Where should we start? "asked James. 'Start with a man named Michael
Waylander. He's always at the centre of these problems, it seems. Arle
Steelsoul, of the Ironmongers, is leading the opposition to the
Riverpullers. Both sides, at least, will talk to Waylander. It's
rumoured he has his hands in a couple of shady things; nothing too
important, but enough to make him dangerous. " 'Anything besides that?
'Nothing I care to share with you, but also nothing that kept from you
will hinder your efforts. "

Well, "said James, 'it's more than we had before we ran across you.

If you're off for Tannerus tomorrow, we'll know where to find you. "

Lysle grinned and James felt as if he was looking in a mirror.

While Lysle was two or three years older than James, the likeness was
uncanny. 'That's where I'm heading now. Who knows where I'll be if you
come there looking for me? "

James fixed him with a knowing gaze and said, 'Trust me, my friend. Now
that I've made your acquaintance, I'll be keeping an eye on you. We'll
meet again, have no doubt. "

Lysle finished his food, excused himself and left the three alone. 'I'll
see about a room, "said James. He made arrangements and the three
retired for the night.

In the morning, they headed for the stabling yard of the inn and
discovered a confused stableboy. 'Horses, sir? But last night you took
one, and sold my master the other two. "

James turned and looked down the westward road where beyond his vision
the village of Tannerus lay. Silently he swore he would

certainly find Lysle Riggers again some day. And if any doubt at their
being related had existed in James's mind until this minute, it was now
completely vanquished. Suddenly laughing, James said, Well, I guess vve
need to buy some horses, lad. What have you to sell us?

Owyn and Gorath exchanged curious glances at James's strange reaction,
but neither said a word as James waited for the boy to fetch the
stable-master so he could start haggling to buy three horses.

Armed men had thrown a barrier across the road into Romney, and
signalled the three riders to halt. What's this? "asked James.

One of the men stepped from behind the barrier, mostly grain sacks and
crates, and said, We're not letting strangers into Romney right now. "

James said, 'I'm on the King's business, and I bear warrants from the
Prince of Krondor. " 'Prince of Krondor, is it? said the man, rubbing
his chin with his gloved hand. He looked like a stevedore, shirt sleeves
rolled up high on his powerfiil arms, heavy chest and neck, his face
burned brown by the sun. He carried a long wrecking bar, the kind used
to open heavy crates off-loaded from riverboats, and he looked eager to
use it. Well, the Prince is a long way away-, it's not even the Western

Realm, you see, so I can't see as why that cuts any ice with us. "
'Who's in charge here? said James, jumping down from his horse and
handing his reins to Owyn.

Well, normally if s Michael Waylander, who's trying to keep the

Riverpullers from taking over the city, but he's in town right now
taking care of some business, so he left me in charge. " 'And your name
is ... F 'I'm Karl Widger, "said the man.

Before he could move, James spun on him, hitting him as hard as he could
in the stomach. The man went over with a loud 'oof 'and

James brought his knee upward into Widger's descending face. Karl went
down like a dropped brick.

Pointedly stepping over the fallen dockworker, James said, Would one of
you run into the city and fetch Michael Waylander here? Tell him Karl is
incapacitated and there's no one in charge. Unless, "he added, pulling
his sword, 'one of you cares to come over here and claim he's now
responsible for keeping us out of Romney?

iio Kaymona P_ Peist

Two men behind the barricade conferred and one ran off, heading over a
small bridge that separated the road into Romney from the

King's Highway. None of the others seemed eager to come over the
barricade and challenge James, but James knew he couldn't just ride
through a dozen armed men.

Owyn dismounted and handed the reins back to James. 'That was bold. "

Under his breath, Jimmy said, 'And a little stupid. I hit that walking
tree trunk as hard as I could. Damn near broke my hand, and it was only
his stomach. I'm glad I didn't try to hit his head. I'd probably have
broken every knuckle. My knee's throbbing like mad. "

It didn't take long for Michael Waylander to arrive. He was a tall man,
blond and sporting a short-cropped beard that looked reddish in the
afternoon sun. 'What is going on here? "he demanded. 'I might ask you
the same thing, "said James. 'I bear warrants from the Prince of Krondor
and I'm on the King's business. How dare you bar my way? "

We're acting under the authority of the Earl of Romney, "sai

Waylander. We've had a lot of trouble lately-, damn near a guild war.
'Guild war? "asked James, as if he had heard nothing about this before.
'Damn Riverpullers are raising prices in violation of every agreement
that's in place, and they're threatening to shut down all business up
and down the river. I represent an alliance of other guilds: glaziers,
rope-makers, carpenters, smiths and most of the local merchants, and we
refused to pay. "

James said, 'Let me shorten this for you. You tried to make arrangements
to get your own cargo in and out of the city and the

Riverpullers started dumping goods in the river and wrecking boats. "
'More, "said Waylander. 'They killed two apprentices three weeks ago and
fired a half-dozen boats. "

James said, Well, those are local matters. We're on business for the
Crown and will brook no more delays. " 'Let me see your warrants, "said
Waylander.

James hesitated. This Waylander was no noble or Crown official.

By rights he had no legal standing and James was not under any
obligation to humour him. But practical considerations and a dozen

NRONDOR: I HE BETRAYAL III arn'cd men made him reach into his tunic and
pull out his travel warnint and a demand for aid warrant, instructing
any noble to aid jarnes in his mission for the Crown.

AVELL, we couldn't be too careful. The Riverpullers were hiring sn,vords
and the citys become an armed camp. We can't do much about those inside
the city already, but we can keep more from coming in. "He handed over
the warrants.

"Mat about the Earl? "asked Owyn. 'Isn't he keeping the peace? "

We don't have a garrison here, son, "said Waylander, and something in
his tone led James to think he liked the idea. We're in the heart of the
Kingdom and the most trouble we have is the occasional drunken brawl on
the docks or a few bandits riding down from the northern hills to ambush
someone on the road. We have a city constabulary, but most of those men
are on one side or the other in this dispute. The Riverpullers are the
most important guild in this area, but the other guilds together are
stronger. It's a dose thing and we don't have many neutral parties in
Romney. Earl Richard asked me to come up from my home in Sloop, a
village a half-day's ride south of here, just because I'm not local; I
have a lot of friends on both sides of this, and sometimes they'll
listen to me. But the Riverpullers are out of line and there's no other
way to see it. "

James put his warrants back in his tunic and said, 'I expect theyd have
something different to say on that matter. But that's no concern of
mine. I need to see the Earl. "

Waylander was about to say something when a clatter of hooves from
behind caused James to look. A company of riders was approaching at a
leisurely pace up the road, a banner at the head of their column
announcing the presence of the Royal Lancers.

Their leader approached, held up his hand for the halt, and said,

What's this then? Clear the way, you men. "

James nodded, Waylander gave the order, and the men started pulling
aside the grain sacks and crates.

James walked to stand before the officer, and after a moment, the
officer said, 'N'at are you looking at, man? "

James grinned. Walter of Gyldenholt? So Baldwin sent you south, finally?
"

The former captain from the garrison at Highcastle said, 'Do I know you?
"

ilz "ymona r,. reisr

James laughed. We met at Highcastle. I'm James, squire Of the

Prince's court. " 'Ah, yes, "said the old captain. 'Now I recall you. "

James couldn't help but grin. When he had first met the captain, he had
been one of the victims of Guy du Bas-Tyra's fall from grace, an officer
in service to Guys most loyal ally, the result of which had been years
of hard service with the border barons. Glancing at Walter's girth, he
said, 'Peacetime's been good, it seems. " 'What brings you here, squire?
"asked the captain, ignoring the friendly barb. 'The Prince has us
running some errands for him. You're the company Guy sent here to
restore order? "

We are, "said Walter. Would have been here a few days ago, but we ran
into a spot of trouble to the south. Band of lads in black objected to
our coming this way. Caused us a merry chase, but we managed to kill a
few before the rest got away. "

James looked at Owyn and Gorath. 'These are things we had better not
speak of in the open, captain. I have to talk to the Earl. I imagine you
do as well. " 'Indeed, "said the captain, motioning for his men to move
forward, through the barricade now open before them. 'Ride in with us,
squire.

We'll keep the ruffians off your back. "He smiled at James.

James laughed and mounted his horse, motioning for his companions to
join the end of the column. There were fifty lancers in the company,
enough to prevent serious trouble, and keep both sides of the dispute
from doing anything rash, or at least James hoped so.

Waylander said, We were only holding this bridge until the lancers
arrived, squire. Tell the Earl my men and I are heading home to Sloop. "

James acknowledged the man's request and they rode across the bridge.

Romney was a major trading centre in the east. The city was big enough
to be considered huge by western standards, but here in the eastern half
of the Kingdom it was a modest sized place, about half the size of
Krondor. With fifty lancers at hand, the Earl could re-forin his
constables and restore order as long as neither side in the dispute
opted for open warfare.

The tension in the city was almost palpable. As they rode in, curious

A

Onlookers glanced out of windows or cleared the streets, letting the
soldiers pass.

Gorath said, 'There is a lot of fear in the air. " people worry when
riots break out, "said James. 'Even if you're not taking sides, the
violence can sweep you up and carry you into harm's Way. Many a man has
died trying to explain he wasn't taking sides in a guild riot. "

They rounded a comer and found themselves entering the citys square
dominated by a large fountain. James was struck by something odd. 'There
aren't any hawkers or vendors about. "

Owyn nodded. 'I've been here before, on my way up to see my uncle in
Cavell Keep, and there are always merchants in the main square. "

Gorath said, 'Perhaps they were fearful of being swept up in that
violence you spoke of'

James nodded. A large inn occupied the north side of the square, a black
sheep against a green meadow painted on the sign hanging over the door.
We'll headquarter here, "announced Walter of Gy1denholt.

The lancers dismounted and whatever James might have thought of the
truculent former captain from Highcastle, his squad was the model of
efficiency. The captain waved over a passer-by and said, 'Do you know
where the Earl of Romney is? "

The man said, 'He's taken up residence in that house there, sir. "

He pointed to a house across the square.

Handing the reins of his horse to an orderly, Walter dismounted and
said, 'Squire James, let's go call upon his lordship. "

James dismounted and said to Owyn, 'Find us a room, but in a different
inn. We'll be able to snoop about a bit easier if we're not keeping
company with fifty Royal Lancers. "

Owyn said, 'I know just the place. I stayed here with my father once.
"He pointed. 'Down that street is another bridge, crossing the

River Cheam, and just on the other side is an inn marked by a green-cat
sign. We'll wait for you there. "

James turned and followed Walter, who marched purposefully to the door
of the house. He had barely knocked when the door opened and a servant
said, 'Enter, sirs. "

The man wore a castle tabard, with the Earl's coat-of-arms on it, a

Stylized river with a fish jumping from it and over a star. The servant

W them to a small parlour at the rear of the house.

114 Aaymona P- -eist

Earl Richard was a youthfid man, but one who looked more the, part of a
merchant or tradesman than a noble, despite we armour and a sword. James
had grown up amidst nobles who were fighting men as well as rulers, and
these eastern nobles who wore swords for decoration took some getting
used to. The Earl's voi was surprisingly deep and forceful. Welcome,
gentlemen. My Lor

Bas-Tyra answered my request. "

James let Walter speak first. We came straight away, sir. " 'How many
men did you bring? " 'A full company of fifty Royal Lancers. "

The Earl appeared worried. 'I hope that's enough. I would really prefer
to settle this dispute without resorting to force. "

Walter glanced at James and shrugged. The Earl noticed the exchange and
said, 'And you are? "

James, squire to Prince A-rutha, "he said, producing his travel warrants
and demands for assistance. The second document seemed to produce
increased distress in the Earl. What sort of assistance? " 'At this
point, information, m'lord. We have heard rumours of increased activity
in the area by the Brotherhood of the Dark Path, as well as the
possibility of a return by the Nighthawks. " 'Possibility? "asked the
Earl, his colour rising. 'Doesn't anyone read the reports I forward to
the Crown? Of course there's apossibility!

Theyve killed two members of the Ironmongers' Guild for the

Riverpullers, and killed two members of the Riverpullers, as well;
theyll kill for whoever pays them. I hear Baron Cavell is hiding out in
Cavell Village because theyre stalking him! He lives in a small
residence with his household guards in every room. "

Something about Cavell rang familiar in James's memory, but he couldn't
put his finger on it.

James said, Well, then, m'lord, my companions and I will be around for a
few days, asking questions. We'd prefer it if no one else knew our visit
was official. If anyone asks, we are here to convey the Prince's
greetings while enroutee to somewhere else. "He glanced at Walter. 'I'll
be staying over at the Green Cat Inn, to lend credence to that, captain.
"

Walter of Gyldenholt shrugged as if it were of no importance to le

Ig re 'rel rd,

him. He said, 'My lord, we'll be at your disposal. I'll need to speak
with your chief constable in the morning and establish a patrol. As

Lx. m U n v U K .- I H h D ETR A Y A L 115 soon as the folks around here
see a few of my lads riding around, things will calm down. "

James and the captain excused themselves from the Earl's presence.

Outside the door, Walter said, Well, squire, we'll have things in hand
around here soon enough. "

Again feeling the tension in the air, James said, 'I hope you do,
captain. I most sincerely hope you do. "

They parted company and James found his horse, mounted, and rode across
the city in the direction Owyn had indicated. As he rode, he studied the
city.

Romney was located across all three points of an intersection of three
rivers. The River Rom coursed down from the Teeth of the

World, near Northwarden, the oldest of the border baronies. At

Romney the River Cheam branched off to the southeast, while the

Rom continued to run southwesterly, turning southeast again as it neared
the coast. James paused at the bridge he faced, which arched over the
River Cheam. Something was eating at him, a memory he couldn't quite
place, and he knew that it was somehow important.

He waited to see if anything bubbled to the surface of his mind, then
decided it would come in its own good time.

James moved across the bridge and found this side of the city even more
tense than the other. Citizens moved quickly, eyes darting around as if
expecting attack from any quarter, and nowhere could any of the usual
street hawkers be seen.

He reached the Green Cat Inn and rode around to the back of the stabling
yard, where he found Gorath and Owyn waiting for him.

Why aren't you inside, eating? asked James as he dismounted.

A terrified-looking stableboy said, 'Sir, my master is unwilling to
serve your ... friend.'He indicated Gorath.

Muttering, 'I wouldn't quite call him a friend,'James tossed his reins
to the boy and marched in the rear door of the inn. Owyn and

Gorath hesitated a moment, then followed.

Inside, James saw a large man, advancing in years, but still broad of
shoulders with imposing muscle under a broad girth, turn to see who
entered from the stable yard. He pointed a beefy finger at Gorath and
said, 'You! I told you I'll have none of your kind in my inn!"

James hurried to put himself between the innkeeper and Gorath. 'And just
what kind would that be? "he asked.

The man looked down at James, appraising him and coming to a halt. The
young man was quite a bit smaller, but something in his manner made the,
barman stop. 'Dark elves! Fifteen years I served on the border, and I've
killed enough of his kind to know then,.

They killed enough of my comrades, as well. And who the hell are you to
ask? "

James said, 'I'm Senior James, squire to Prince Arutha of Krondor.

He's my companion and we're on a mission for the Crown. " 'And I'm the
Queen of Banapis, "said the innkeeper in return.

James grinned as he reached into his tunic and produced his warrants.
Well, Majesty of Love and Beauty, read these, or else

I'll have to go fetch Earl Richard to vouch for me, and lef s see how
much he likes being dragged over here given the temper of the city right
now. "

The old man could read, but slowly, with his lips moving. James didn't
offer to help him out. After a moment, he handed back the documents.
'Damn, you are some sort of Prince's officer, aren't you?

James shrugged. 'If I were in the army, I'd be a Knight-Lieutenant, if
that makes it easier for an old soldier like you to grasp. Now, I want a
room big enough for the three of us, ale, and food. "

The man threw a black look at Gorath and turned his back on

James. 'Come this way ... sir. "He led them to the bar and went behind
it. He produced a large iron key and said, 'Top of the stairs, 0 the way
back on the right. "James took the key, when a light entered the man's
eyes. 'Six golden sovereigns a night. " 'Six!"said James. 'You thiefl'

Us two per person. Take it or leave it. "

Knowing full well that the fifty lancers would eat up a lot of rooms at
local inns, James said, We'll take it. " 'In advance. "

James counted out twelve coins and said, 'Two nights. If we stay longer,
we'll pay the day after tomorrow. "

The man swept up the coins. 'And that doesn't include the cost of food
or ale, "he said. 'I was sure of that, "said James. To Owyn and Gorath
he said,'Let's fetch our kits, then we'll eat. "

They got their travel bags off their horses, ensured the stableboy

k, w what he was doing, and went upstairs. As James had expected, it was
the least desirable room in the inn, at the back over the stable. f-Ic
decided not to make an issue of it.

Downstairs they endured slow service, even though there wasn't rnuch of
a crowd. James was deciding at what point he would have to take the old
soldier who ran the place down a peg when the food finally arrived. To
James's delight, it was well prepared and of good quality.

As they ate, they discussed the situation. James shared the little
information he had with them, and Owyn said, 'So the Nighthawks are
working for the Riverpullers or the Ironmongers? 'Neither, "suggested
Gorath. 'Confusion and discord are Delekhan's allies here in the
Kingdom. " 'I believe Gorath is correct. I don't know if the Nighthawks
are in league with this Crawler, Delekhan, or both, or if we've just
wandered into a conflict that has nothing to do with our mission, but
either way it's to Delekhan's benefit. Which means we must help to end
it. " 'How? asked Owyn. 'Find out how this thing started, and see if we
can figure out a way to get the two sides talking to one another. If the
Earl can mediate the conflict, perhaps we can return this city to
something close to order. Those lancers can only hold down the lid on
this simmering pot so long; sooner or later someone's going to pull a
sword or break a head, and a full-scale city riot will be under way. "He
lowered his voice even more. 'And if most of the citys constabulary is
on one side or the other, even those fifty lancers won't be able to stop
it. "

Owyn nodded. 'What do you want us to do?

Pointing to Gorath, he said, 'First light tomorrow, I'd like you up
snooping outside the city. You know what to look for.'To Owyn he said,
'Do you know any of the prominent families of Romney? " 'Not well, "said
Owyn, 'but as my father's a baron and I've got enough names to drop
around, I should be able to get an invitation to tea or supper from
someone around here. "

James said, 'Good. I'll snoop around. " 'Where? "asked Owyn.

James grinned. 'In parts of the city where wise men fear to go. "

Owyn nodded. 'What else? " 'Do you know a Baron Cavell, north of here?
asked James.

Owyn finished a mouthful of food. 'Corvallis of Cavell? I should.

He's my uncle. My mother's uncle, actually, but only a few years older
than her. Why? 'Richard of Romney says he's being stalked by the
Nighthawks. "

Owyn said, 'That doesn't surprise me. Uncle Corvallis always had a hot
temper and an unforgiving nature. Made it easy for him to collect
enemies. Still, I find it hard to imagine that anyone wants him dead. "

James shrugged. 'That's what Earl Richard said the Baron of

Cavell claims. "

Gorath said, 'If they wanted him dead, he'd be dead. "

James said, Well, according to Richard, your uncle Corvallis is hiding
out in a room in a house in the middle of Cavell Village, with armed
guards in every room. "

Owyn nodded. 'The old keep was gutted mysteriously in a fire years ago.
The familys been living in the best house in the village since then, and
talking about restoring the old keep, but at this point it's still
abandoned. "

James said, 'Well, we might have to go talk to your uncle if we can't
find the Nighthawks down here. "

Gorath observed, 'I haven't noticed much difficulty in finding them. "

James nodded agreement. 'Too true. "

They finished their meal and turned in for the night.

The shout had barely registered on James the next morning and he was out
of bed, grabbing his trousers and boots. Gorath was also awake and
reaching for his sword. Owyn stirred on his pallet next to Gorath's and
said, What? 'Sounds like a riot is commenced, "said Gorath.

James listened to the sound and said, 'No, if s something else. "

He finished dressing and hurried down the hall to the stairs to the
common room. As he approached the front of the building he could hear
the voices from out in front. The landlord stood at the door to his inn,
listening as people hurried by. 'What is it? "demanded James.

With a dark look, the innkeeper said, 'Murder. The cry is murder has
been done in the night. "

NRONDOR: I HE DETRAYAL 119

'Murder? "asked Owyn, coming down the stairs. Who? 'I don't know, "said
the innkeeper. 'But theyre saying it was done over at the Black Sheep
Inn. "

James was through the door before the words had vanished from the air,
Owyn and Gorath following. He didn't bother to go and saddle his horse,
but rather sprinted through the streets, following the flood of people
who swept along like a stream, heading across the bridge toward the main
square of the city.

As he neared the square, he found a press of people being held back by a
few men with pole arms, all wearing armbands. None of the Royal Lancers
was in evidence. James had to push his way through the crowd and when he
reached the front, he was barred by a man holding a pike.

James pushed aside the pike shouting, 'On the business of the

Crown!"

The man obviously wasn't prepared for that and hesitated, letting

James, Gorath and Owyn pass. But he managed to keep others back as
Richard, Earl of Romney, came striding across the square, toward the
fountain. He saw James and exclaimed, 'Squire!"

James crossed to where he waited and said, 'My lord? What is it? "

Barely able to speak because of his rage, he pointed to the open door of
the Black Sheep Inn and said, 'Look!"

James hurried to the entrance.

Entering the commons he saw Royal Lancers, sprawled across tables or on
the floor, their eyes vacant and fixed. He needed no healer or priest to
pronounce the men dead. He looked over at a cowering stableboy, who had
found the bodies when he had come in for breakfast an hour earlier, and
said, 'All of them? "

The boy was so terrified he could barely speak. 'Sir, "he nodded. 'The
officer is in his room upstairs, and the sergeant and some of the
others. The rest died down here. "

Gorath crossed to the table and picked up a mug of ale. He sniffed at
it. 'Poison, "he said, 'or I'm a goblin. You can smell it. "

James took the mug and sniffed it, judging the moredhel's sense of smell
keener than his own, for he could detect no odour beyond that of warm
ale. He noticed a slight black sediment in the mug.

He fished out a tiny bit with his finger, then touched it to the tip of
his tongue. Spitting it out, he said, 'You may be right,

6L

and there may be poison in this ale, but what you're smelling is
tarweed. " 'Tarweed?'asked Owyn, looking pale despite the number of
corpses he had seen already.

James nodded, putting down the mug. 'Old trick in some of the seedier
inns in the Kingdom. Tarweed is nasty stuff in large amounts, but in
small doses it makes you thirsty. You lace bad ale with it, and the
customers drink it like it was dwarven winter ale. " 'Can it kill you?
"asked Owyn. 'No, but there are many tasteless poisons that can, "said
James.

He turned to the boy and said, 'What's your name? " jason, "the boy
answered, terrified. 'What are they going to do to me? "he asked.
'Nothing, whyy 'I served these men, sir. My master always said the care
of our guests was our responsibility. "

James said, 'Perhaps, but you couldn't know the ale was poisoned, could
you? " 'No, but I knew something was odd, and I didn't say anything!

James was now acutely interested. 'What was odd? " 'The men who came
with the ale. We buy our ale from the Sign of the Upturned Keg down in
Sloop. I know the waggon drivers. This time it was strange men. "

James took Jason by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. 'Is there
anything you can tell us about these men, anything speciay

Jason stared at the ceiling a moment, as if struggling to remember.
'They were dark men, maybe Keshians, and they spoke oddly. And they
seemed worried, but they didn't say anything. One wore a medallion that
swung out from under his tunic when he leaned over to hand a keg down to
his partner. "

What did it look like? demanded James. 'It had a bird on it. "

James glanced at Gorath and Owyn. 'What else? "asked James. 'They told
me to forget I had ever seen them, "replied Jason. 'And they smelled
funny, like sailors from Silden do when they come here, like sun on
canvas and flowers. "

Gorath and Owyn began inspecting the room, while James went outside. He
saw Earl Richard, rooted to the same spot he had occupied

Nvhen James had entered the inn. The shock of the murders had rendered
the Earl nearly unable to function. James had seen it before Ath men who
were unused to bloodshed. He hurried to the Earl and laid, 'My lord,
what do you propose? "

Blinking as if he had difficulty understanding James, Richard t,,,hoed,
Tropose?

James pointed at the crowd and said, 'You must tell them something
Disperse them before things get any uglier than before. Then dle bodies
must be attended to. "

Yes, "said Earl Richard. 'That's so. "He mounted the fountain and stood
where everyone could see him. 'Citizens of Romney, "he shouted, and as
the words came from him, James could see that speaking before the
citizenry was something the Earl did often, for the familiarity of the
task returned his wits. 'Go to your homes!"commanded the Earl. 'Stay
calm. Black murder has been done and those responsible will be hunted
down and punished. "He jumped down and waved over a constable. 'I

Nvant someone from the Riverpullers and the Ironmongers here in five
minutes. " 'Damn!"said the Earl to James. 'I need send to Cheam for more
troops. Black Guy won't be pleased when he learns fifty of the King's

Own have died in my city. " 'Nor will the King, "observed James. Seeing
the Earl's face cloud over at the mention of King Lyam, James said, 'My
companions and

I will do anything we can to help. " 'The best thing you can do right
now, squire, is find out who is behind this. " 'I already know, "said
James. He told them of the tarweed and the two men who, appeared to be
from Silden. 'Nighthawks!'whispered the Earl, so as not to be overheard
by any of the crowd who were slowly leaving the area. 'Damn! I almost
wish it had been Damon Reeves or Arle Steelsoul behind this. "

Why them? asked James. 'Because then I could hang one or the other with
cause and end two problems for the price of one. Reeves runs the
Riverpullers, and

Axle Steelsoul is the head of the Ironmongers' Guild. They are at the
heart of the dispute.'He indicated two men approaching. When they vvere
standing before the Earl, he said, 'Tell your respective factions

that I have had enough with violence in Romney. I hold the head of the
Riverpullers and Ironmongers personally responsible for the good
behaviour of both sides of this dispute. Any further violence and I will
hang them, side by side, from the city gate. Carry word back to them
now!"

The first man, one of the Ironmongers, said, 'But Arle Steelsoul's down
in Sloop!" 'Then carry word to Sloop, "instructed the Earl.

James said,'M'lord, I will do that.'The two men exchanged glances, as if
asking who the stranger was to bear such tidings to the leaders of the
two warring factions.

The Earl said, 'Pass the word that Arle and Damon's lives will be
forfeit if there are any more problems in my city. "The two men bowed
and ran off. 'Can you enforce the threat, m'lord? "asked James when the
men were out of earshot. 'Probably not, but it may shock them into
behaving themselves until the next detachment of soldiers arrives. "He
looked at James.

Why do you choose to go to Sloop? " 'Because that's where the poisoned
ale is from, and because I think we need to continue on down to Silden
after that. " 'Then tell Steelsoul and Michael Waylander that I expect
both men to be here in three days' time, along with Reeves and the other
local leaders of the various factions, and should either not appear, I
will know he has a hand in black murder. I'll issue the death warrant
myself. If they both show up, I'm locking all of them in a room and
neither side will be permitted to leave until we have a settlement of
these differences. I don't care if they have to pee on the floor, or die
of starvation, I'll have an end to this business before any of them sees
the sun again. "

Convinced of the Earl's earnestness in the matter, James said, 'My
companions and I will be off in an hour, m'lord. "He bowed and returned
to the Black Sheep, where two workers were helping Jason move the bodies
so they could be piled up on a waggon and taken from the city for
cremation. Owyn waved James over. 'Find anything interesting? " just
this, "said Owyn. He held out two items. One was a small silver brooch,
looking like an oversize spider.

'What's this? "asked James. 'Turn it over, "said Gorath.

James did as he was bid and saw a large groove running down the centre
of the item. In it a tightly-packed gummy substance could be een. James
lifted the device to his nose and sniffed. 'Silverthorn!" fie said. 'Are
you sure? asked Owyn. 'I'd recognize that odour anywhere, trust me,
"replied James. 'It's an assassin's tool, "said Gorath. 'You run the
edge of a dagger along that groove and even if you don't strike a
killing blow, the victim dies within hours. " 'What else? "asked James.

Owyn held out a brass tube with glass at each end. 'A spyglass? " asked
James. 'Look through it, "suggested Owyn.

James did and his perspective altered. The colours through the glass
changed and he suddenly saw shifting patterns on the clothing of his
companions as well as on the walls of the building. Pulling it away from
his eye, he said, 'What is this? "

Owyn said, 'It's magic. 1 will have to study it, but I think it lets you
see things you otherwise can't see, such as magically-hidden items. "

James looked down at the two items. He wished he had better clues, but
these two would have to do as a start.

EIGHT

Secrets

D ark shapes moved in the evening shadows.

James pointed to them and Owyn asked, Whao'

Gorath said, 'I see them. "

They had ridden south at midday, pushing the horses as much as possible,
to reach the village of Sloop and deliver the Earl's ultimatum to
Steelsoul and Waylander. As sundown approached, they had crested a rise
and come within sight of town. Armed men were filtering through the
trees at the north end of the town, heading toward a clump of houses.

Gorath urged his horse forward, pulling his sword. James and Owyn were
on his heels a moment later. They charged the men, while James started
shouting, 'Alarm! Raiders in the village!"

He knew that depending on the make-up of this village, the response to a
call of alarm would either be for the men of the village to rush out
with weapons in hand, or for doors and windows to be locked down. In the
west he knew there would be a dozen men in the streets to meet the
invaders in a minute. Here in the relatively calm east, he wasn't so
sure.

As they passed the first house, he saw a curious face peeking through a
window. Again he shouted, 'Raiders in the village! To arms!"

The man slammed shutters, and James could imagine him barring the door
as James left the house behind.

Gorath was upon the first swordsman, leaping from his horse onto the
man. James considered that he probably should devote at least one
afternoon teaching the dark elf how to fight effectively frorn
horseback.

Owyn, on the other hand, had become quite adept at using his eavy staff
from horseback, cracking skulls and breaking arms with quick efficiency.

Within minutes the raiders were on the run, heading back into the woods.
James rode to where Gorath seemed poised to give chase and shouted for
him to halt. 'It'll be dark soon, "he said. 'Even with our woodland
skill, we don't want to try chasing a half-dozen angry

Nighthawks into a dark forest. "

Gorath said, 'Agreed, "and turned to find his horse.

James went to the house that was the obvious target of the raid and
dismounted. He pounded on the door. 'Open in the King's name!"he
shouted.

Through a viewing slit a pair of eyes, wide with fear, regarded him.

The door opened and Michael Waylander said, 'Squire. What was all that
noise about? "

James said, 'It looks like someone is taking the game to a higher stake.
We just chased off a band of Nighthawks coming to see you. "

Waylander turned pale. 'Nighthawks? His knees went weak and he gripped
the doorjamb to stay on his feet. 'What have I got myself into?

James said, 'That's what we've come to talk about. "

Gorath and Owyn tied their horses next to James's and came to the door
as Waylander stepped aside to admit them. It was a modest house, but
James noticed at once it was well kept. There was enough wealth evident
in the furnishings and appointments that it was clear

Michael Waylander was very well situated for a common worker in a small
village. The house, while not large, had three rooms, a bedroom visible
through a door, and James saw the bed was a well-carved four-poster with
a mesh netting and canopy. Through the other door

James could see a kitchen. Waylander sat heavily on a chair, and James
sat in the other one next to a table. 'Someone wants you dead, Michael,
"said James. 'Who could that be?

Waylander sat back a look of defeat on his face. 'I'm a dead man. "
'Maybe not, "said James. 'I represent Prince Arutha and while you've
obviously irritated some powerful people, the Prince of Krondor is still
the most powerful man in this nation after the King. Ifyou cooperate,

I may be able to get you under his protection. "

L

Waylander stared off into space a moment, as if thinking. 'I'm in over
my head. I'll do whatever I must to get out of this. "

James leaned forward and suggested, Why don't you start with what "this"
is. " 'About a year ago, some men came to me from Silden. They had an
idea, and I took that idea to Arle Steelsoul. " 'V'at was the idea? "
'The idea was to take control of all the business along the river, from
Silden to the small villages in the mountains. " 'How were they to
accomplish this? asked James. 'They said they had connections in the
Riverpullers, who had told them the Guild was going to raise prices for
hauling cargo up the river. " 'So the Guild wanted to raise their rates?
" 'Yes, "said Waylander. 'Theyre usually cautious about that, because if
the rates go too high, merchants start using waggons to send goods north
along the King's Highway. " 'But if there was a lot of trouble on the
Highway, merchants would be forced to use the barges and the
Riverpullers, "finished James. 'Yes. "Waylander nodded agreement. 'These
men said that they could ensure the Riverpullers would have no
competition. Then we,

Arle Steelsoul and 1, would organize the other guilds in Romney and the
surrounding villages to stand against the Riverpullers. When things got
bad enough, the King would declare martial law, and the

Riverpullers would be put out of business. " 'And what does it matter if
some heads get broken along the way? " asked Owyn dryly.

Waylander, "asked James, 'what made you think the Riverpuffers would be
out of business if the King declared martial law? "

We planned on having Damon Reeves, head of the Riverpullers'

Guild, murdered. "He hung his head as if ashamed at this admission. 'I
didn't want that, but by the time they told me of the plan, I was in too
deep. They said they'd make it look like Nighthawks did it, so that no
blame would fall to us. In fact, they said theyd make it look like
someone within the Guild did it, to get Reeves out of the way, and the
Guild would fall apart from dissension within. I've known Damon for
years; he's an old friend, but there was nothing I could do. "

James glanced at Gorath and Owyn. '@Vhose idea was it to cast blame on
the Nighthawks? " 'The men from Silden, "said Waylander. 'N"y? " 'Just
that the notion is familiar to us. "

Owyn realized James was talking about the false Nighthawks in the sewers
of Krondor and nodded in understanding.

What should I do? "asked Waylander. 'Get Steelsoul, get to Romney, and
sit down with the Riverpullers and make peace. If you don't, the Earl
will hang you two and Reeves, and start over with whoever replaces you.
" 'The Earl's never resorted to threats before. Why is he suddenly
threatening us now? "asked Waylander. 'Because someone just murdered
fifty Royal Lancers in his city, " answered James.

Waylander's eyes widened and his face turned ashen. 'Fifty! Gods of
mercy!"He gripped the table and said, 'Who could do such a thing? "
'Chance has you crossing paths with the Nighthawks, it seems, "
suggested James. 'And by all appearances they don't seem all that
pleased by these attempts at implicating them in deeds for which they
are not responsible. No matter how clever you gentlemen thought you were
being, you were being played for fools by agents of a man who is called
"the Crawler". He's attempting to dislodge the Mockers in Krondor and
seems to want to control the docks in the eastern cities as well. They
were not helping you; you were being set up to create a situation where
they would emerge in control after you, Reeves, Steelsoul, and anyone
else inconvenient to their goals were out of the way. It wouldn't
surprise me if the Crawler's agents hadn't leaked the information to the
Nighthawks about your attempting to hang the blame for Reeves' murder on
them. " 'As if another charge of murder is going to make them any more
hunted, "Gorath observed. 'True, "said James, 'but if s been my
experience that criminals take tl certain pride in their own crime, but
want nothing to do with blame if r crimes for which they are not
responsible. It's odd, I know, but at's the way it is. " 'You talk as if
you've known a lot of criminals, "said Waylander.

L

'Yes, I do, don't V James's smile lacked even a suggestion of warmth.
'What do I do after I see the Earl? " 'I suggest you beg for leniency,
"said Owyn,

James nodded. 'People have died as a result of your choices, and you and
Steelsoul have much to answer for. But if you help the Earl restore
order and help us uncover those behind this plot, we'll do what we can
to keep you off the gibbet. " 'Maybe I should just run, "said Waylander.
'You won't reach Silden, "said James. 'They would be on you like hounds
on a hare, and where would you go, anyway? " 'I have connections in
Kesh, "said Waylander. 'If I can get to

Pointer's Head, I can take a caravan over the Peaks of Tranquillity. "

Well, don't do anything rash, "said James. 'If my friends and I have our
way, the Nighthawks will not be a problem much longer.

My advice is to see the Earl, then sit tight. I'll get word to you when
it's safe. " 'But what about the men in Silden?

James stood up. 'They're also a problem. " 'But I only know them by
sight and first names, Jacob, Linsey and

Franklin, and they may not even be their true names. " 'Probably not,
"said James. He took the spyglass and the silver spider out of his
travel bag and said, '@What can you tell me about these?

Waylander said, 'The spider I got from a trader named Abuk. He travels
the roads between Malac's Cross and here, stopping in at Silden each
way. I last saw him there, so he may be on his way toward us right now.
He drives a trader's waggon painted green, with his name in red letters
on the side. "

Owyn winced at the description. We can hardly miss that. "

James's expression turned dark. We found this spider this morning among
the bodies of the dead lancers!

Waylander said, 'It can't be the same one, then!"

Why? demanded James. 'I bought one from Abuk, but I gave ours to the
false Nighthawks who were sent to kill Damon Reeves. "

James looked at the device and said, 'There may be more than one2 but
you'll need more proof of your innocence than that. "

Waylander examined the spider, then said, 'Look!"He pointed to

A

the groove containing the poison. 'I don't know what this is, but mine
had deadly nightshade in it!"

Gorath said, 'Silverthom would be hard to locate this far south. " 'But
not impossible, "said Jam' es. 'Still, I'm inclined to believe you.

What about the spyglass? " 'I don't know anything about that, "said
Waylander, 'but it's the sort Of thing Abuk trades for as well. "

James led the others to the door. 'Get to the Earl, Michael, "he

S1,dd. 'You and Arle should be there before sundown tomorrow if

Vou value your heads. We're in the inn until dawn, and then we're going
south. " 'I'll walk with you as far as Arle's house, "said Waylander.
'And then we'll see the Earl tomorrow. Where south are you going? "
'First to Silden to find Abuk and those three men you mentioned.

If we have any luck, we'll put paid to this mess within a few days. "

Waylander said nothing, and James knew it was because even if all the
Nighthawks and Crawler's men vanished overnight, there would still be
crimes to pay for. But even years in a dungeon, thoughtjames, were
better than dying. At least in a dungeon there was the chance of escape.

The last thought made him smile as he headed up the road toward the inn.

As they neared the town of Silden, they slowed. A band of men were also
riding toward the town, coming in from the west. We don't know theyre
looking for us, "said James. 'But as many times as you've been attacked,
Gorath, I'd just as soon wait to see what theyre up to. "

Gorath had no disagreement, so he remained silent. The riders crossed
over the bridge which arched over the River Rom into the town proper.
Because it was built on a bluff that sloped down to a deep harbour,
Silden had no foulbourgh outside the city walls. Rather, a series of
small villages dotted the coastline around the bay of Silden, and a
large village dominated the western shore of the bay, on the other side
of the bridge.

They rode into the northern gate of the city, and passed a
boredlookingpair of city watchmen. James turned to Owyn and asked,'Any
friend or relatives here? "

'Not that I'm aware of, "said Owyn. 'Or at least none my father would
admit to. "

James laughed. 'I can understand that. This isn't exactly a garden spot,
is it? "

Silden was only important to two groups: those who lived in it and
smugglers. The majority of trade coming up the river to the north
entered through the much larger trading port of Cheam, which had
spacious docks, a huge warehouse district, and was the second largest
port on the north shore of the Kingdom Sea after Bas-Tyra. Silden was
therefore a far more profitable destination for those seeking to conduct
business without benefit of Kingdom Customs officers. They made an
attempt to curtail smuggling, but with the host of villages within a
days ride to the east and west, keeping smuggling under control was
impossible. As a result, control of Silden had for years been an ongoing
goal of competing criminal gangs, from the Mockers of Krondor, Keshian
drug smugglers, and bully gangs from Rillanon, I to an alliance of local
thieves. This constant struggle had turned Silden into the closest thing
to an open city seen in the Eastern Realm of the

Kingdom.

The Earldom of Silden, while a reasonably attractive fiefdom, with rents
and income sufficient to keep a noble family in style, was an absentee
office. The last Earl of Silden had died during the Riftwar, in the
great attack by King Rodric IV against the Tsurani in the final year of
the war. King Lyarn had yet to award the Earldom to anyone, which was
fine with the Duke of

Cheam, who presently enjoyed the income from the property in the
Earldom. James was of the opinion it should be turned into a proper
duchy and run from here in the city. A resident noble would clear up a
lot of the problems of this valuable port city. He would have to mention
it to the Prince when he returned, but for the moment, it was still a
neglected, backwater town without proper oversight.

The upshot of this situation was an almost complete absence of law and
order in Silden, beyond that which was enforced by the local
constabulary. And from what James could tell, it ended where the market
district of the city turned into the waterfront, and at a boulevard
marked by a sign of four gulls in fiight. One side of the street was
marked by prosperous-looking shops and homes, the other

inns and warehouses. Down the middle of the street a long red line had
been painted. 'what is that? "asked Gorath as they rode across to it. 'A
deadline, "said James. 'If you're brawling overthere, no one cares.

Brawl on this side, and you're off to the work gangs. "

He motioned for them to cross the deadline and as they entered the dock
district, he said, 'Ah, I love a town where they let you know how things
stand with no apology. "

Gorath looked at Owyn and shrugged. Then he asked, `why is it called a
deadline? "

Owyn said,'In the past if you were caught after curfew on the wrong side
by the soldiers of the King, you were hanged. "

They rode through a series of dark streets, bounded on either side by
high warehouses, and crossed another fairly large street, rumbling with
waggons and large men pushing carts piled high with goods.

Then they were looking at the harbour below, a jumble of docks and
jetties, some stone, mostly wood, pushed hard against one another.

Small boats were moving in and out of the harbour. Silden was blessed
with one saving grace, the high bluffs upon which the three riders now
stood, which provided shelter from the harshest winter storms.

James conducted them down the long roadway which led to the docks and
pointed to an inn in front of which hung a sign made from an old ship's
anchor, painted white. A modest stabling yard stood to the side and when
James rode in, a grubby-looking boy hurried over. 'Pick their feet, give
them hay and water, and rub them down, "said

James as he dismounted.

The boy nodded and James said, 'And tell whoever's interested that

I would consider it a personal courtesy if these animals were here in
the morning. "He made a small gesture with his thumb and the boy iiodded
slightly.

What was that? "asked Owyn.

As they entered the Anchorhead Inn, James said, 'Just a word dropped in
the proper ear. " 'I mean the thing with the thumb and fingers. "
'That's what let the boy know I deserved to be listened to. "

The common room was seedy and dark, and James looked around at its
clientele. Sailors and dockhands, soldiers of fortune looking for an
outward-bound ship, ladies of negotiable virtue, and the usual

assortment of thugs and thieves. James took them to a table in the rear
and said, 'Now we watch. " 'For what? asked Gorath. 'For the right
person to show up. " 'How long do we wait? "asked Owyn. 'In this hole? A
day, two at the outside. "

Gorath shook his head. 'You humans live like ... animals. " 'It's not so
bad once you've got used to it, Gorath, "said James. 'It's a fair
improvement over some places I've called home. "

Gorath said, 'That is an odd claim for one who serves a prince of his
race. " 'Agreed, "conceded the squire, 'but none the less true for being
strange. I have had an unusual opportunity to improve my situation. "
'The opposite is my fate, "said Gorath. 'I was a clan chieftain; I was
sought out in council and was counted among the leaders of my people.
Now I am sitting in squalor with the enemy of my race. "

James said, 'I am no one's enemy lest he harm me or mine first. "

Gorath said, 'I can believe that, squire, though it strains my senses to
hear myself saying it; yet I can't say that for most of your race. "

James said,'I never claimed to speak on behalf of most of my race. If
you@ve noticed, we're often a great deal more busy killing one another
than we are causing problems for the nations of the north. "

Suddenly Gorath laughed. Both Owyn and James were startled by the sound,
surprisingly musical and full. 1VWAT's so fianny? " asked Owyn.

Gorath's smile faded and he said, 'Just the thought that if you were a
little more efficient killing one another, I wouldn't have to worry
about a murderous dog like Delekhan. "

At mention of the would-be conqueror, James was reminded of the
importance of unravelling the knotted cord of who was behind which plot.
So far he had decided that this Crawler, whoever he might be, was more a
problem for the Upright Man and his

Mockers, and Prince Arutha, and whatever other local nobles he was
plaguing, but his part in Delekhan's plans was coincidence, not design.

The Nighthawks were obviously working with either the Crawler, the
moredhel, or both. And what caused James to worry was that they might be
again the pawns of the Pantathian Serpent Priests. At some

I

point James would bring up the serpents with Gorath, but not here in
this public a place.

The barmaid, a stout woman who had probably been a whore in her youth,
but now could not rely on her faded looks to earn her fivelihood, came
over and with a suspicious look at Gorath asked their pleasure. James
ordered ale, and she left. James returned to his musing.

There was another player in this, some faction who was orchestrating all
this turmoil in the Kingdom, either the Pantathians or someone else and
that was what had James concerned. Going over what Gorath had told
Arutha and James several times, he said, 'I would give a great deal to
know more about those you call the Six. "

Gorath said, 'Little is known of them, save by Delekhan's closest
advisors, and I know of no one who has actually met them. They are
powerfid, and have provided my people with weapons in abundance.

But Delekhan's enemies have been disappearing suddenly. I was called to
council and taken on the road to Sar-Sargoth and locked away in the
dungeon by Narab, Delekhan's chief advisor. "

James said, 'You didn't mention that part before. " 'You didn't ask
about what I had been doing before I met Locklear, " said Gorath. 'How
did you escape? " 'Someone arranged it, "said Gorath. 'I'm not sure who,
but I suspect it was an old ... ally. She is a woman of some influence
and power. "

James was suddenly interested. 'She must have a great deal of influence
to get you free right under Delekhan's nose. " 'There are many close to
Delekhan who will not openly oppose him but would be pleased if he
failed; Narab and his brother are among them, but as long as the Six
serve Delekhan, they win as well.

Should anything befall Delekhan before he consolidates the tribes, any
alliance he has forged will disintegrate. Even his wife and son are not
fiffly trusted by him, and for good reason. His wife is Chieftain of the
Hamandien, the Snow Leopards, one of the most powerful clans after
Delekhan's own; and his son has ambitions that are obvious. "

Owyn said, 'Sounds like a happy family. "

Gorath chuckled at that, his tone ironic. 'My people rarely trust those
who are not of our own family, tribe or clan. Beyond that are

political alliances and they are sometimes as fugitive as dreams. We are
not a trusting people by nature. " 'So I have determined, "said James.
'Then, for the most part, neither are we. "He slowly stood up. 'Excuse
me. I'll be back in a moment. "

He passed the barmaid who ignored him as she brought the ale to the
table, which forced Owyn with ill humour to pay for the drinks from his
meagre purse. Gorath found this amusing.

James crossed to where a man had emerged from the back room, dark skin
and beard marking him as one of Keshian ancestry. 'Can

I help you? "he asked with an appraising look. By his accent, he was a
Keshian by birth. He was thin, and James assumed dangerous, and while
his dose-cropped beard was greying, he was probably still vigorous
enough to be a deadly opponent.

James said, 'You're the owner of this establishment? 'I am, "he said. 'I
am Joftaz. "

Lowering his voice, James said, 'I am here representing interests that
are concerned with some downturns in their business of late.

There are difficulties stemming from the activities of men who have been
most recently both up in Romney, and to the west. "

Joftaz regarded James with an appraising eye. 'Why mention this to me? "
'You live in a place where many pass through. I thought perhaps you
might have heard something or seen someone. "

Joftaz laughed in a jovial manner that was entirely unconvincing. 'My
friend, in my line of work, given where we are, it is in my interest to
hear nothing, notice no one, and say little. "

James studied the man a moment. 'Certain information would have value. "
'How much value? " 'It would depend on the information. "

Joftaz looked around and said, 'The wrong thing said in the wrong ear
could end a man's life. " 'Daggers have points, "said James, 'and so do
you. " 'On the other hand, I do find myself in need of some help in a
delicate matter, and for the right man I could possibly remember a few
things I've heard or faces I've seen. "

James nodded. Would this delicate matter be aided by a sun, of gold? "

joftaz smiled. 'I like your thinking, young man. What may I call you? "
'You may call me James. "

For an instant the man's eyes flickered and he said, 'And you are from
... ?, 'Most recently, the village of Sloop, and before that Romney. "
'Then the men you seek who had been recently in Romney are involved in
some matter up there? " 'Some matter, but before we discuss what I need
to know, I need to know the price. "

Joftaz said, 'Then, my young friend, we are at something of an impasse,
for to tell you any of my need is to tell you all my need, and as they
say, "in for a copper, in for a gold"."

James smiled and said, 'I'm hurt, Joftaz. What must I do to win your
trust? " 'Tell me why you seek these men. " 'I seek them as nothing more
than a link in a chain. They may lead me to another, one with whom I
have some serious issues. He is one behind murder and treason, and I
will have him to the hangman or dead at my feet; either is fine with me.
" 'You're the King's man, then? " 'Not directly, but we both respect my
employer. " 'Then swear by Ban-ath you will not betray me, and we shall
strike a bargain. "

James's grin broadened. 'N'y by the God of Thieves? " 'Who better? For a
pair of thieves such as we. " 'By Ban-ath, then, "said James. 'N'at is
your need? " 'I need you to steal something from the most dangerous man
in Silden, my friend. If you can do that, I will help you find the men
for whom you are looking. Assuming you survive, of course. "

James blinked. 'Me, steal? Why would you think I would steal for you? "
'I have lived enough years to know where eggs come from, young man.@ He
smiled. 'If you are willing to swear by Ban-ath, you've walked the dodgy
path before. "

James sighed. 'I would be forswearing my oath to speak truly if I denied
such. "

'Good-. to the heart of the matter then. There is just a short walk from
here a house, in which dwells a man, by name Jacob

Ishandar. " 'A Keshian? "

There are many from Kesh who reside here. "He touched himself on the
chest. 'Such as 1. But this man and others like him have but recently
come to Silden, less than two or three years ago. They work on behalf of
one who is a spider, sitting at the heart of a vast web, and like the
spider, he senses any vibration along that web. "

James nodded. 'You speak of one known as the Crawler? "

Joftaz inclined his head, indicating that this was the case. 'This was
never what one might cau a peaceful community, but it was orderly after
a fashion. With the Crawler's men - Jacob and two called Linsey, and
Franklin - came bloodshed and pain beyond what is reasonable for men in
our line of work to endure. "

What of the local thieves, and those with ties to Rillanon and

Krondor? 'AU gone, save myself. Some have fled, others... disappeared.
Any thief I contacted in Silden today would be working for the Crawler.

Being Keshian by birth, I think these men did not recognize me for one
such as those they sought to destroy. There are still a few of us in
Silden who survived, but we conduct no business except what we do in the
open, such as my inn. Should these interlopers' enterprises fail, there
will, be enough of us returning here to reclaim what was taken from us.
"

James scratched his chin as he thought. 'Before I agree, let me show you
something. "He produced the silver spider. 'Do you know this? 'I have
seen such before, "he said. They are rare and when one comes my way I
take notice. They are crafted by a smith in a village in the Peaks of
Tranquillity. Those that reach the Kingdom come from Pointer's He-ad or
Mallow Haven. "He took it from James's hand and inspected it. 'I've seen
bad copies, but these are far finer.

You can@t work silver like this and have it endure unless you have the
knack. " 'Odd sort of bird buys an item like this. "

Joftaz smiled. 'Night birds, for the most part. You play a dangerous
game, my friend. You are just the man I seek. "

Well, then, can you tell. me who you sold this one to? "

'Yes, I can, and more. "joftaz lost his smile. 'But not until you
conduct some business for me. " 'Then to specifics. " 'This man I
mentioned, Jacob Ishandar, is chief among those recently come from Kesh.
He has in his possession a bag -' he held his hands apart, indicating a
bag the size of a large coin purse or belt pouch '- and the contents of
that bag are worth enough to underwrite his operation here in Silden for
the next year. " 'And you want me to steal that bag?." joftaz nodded. 'I
would think you able to undertake such a task yourself, "said

James. 'Perhaps, but I must continue to live here in Silden, success or
failure. Should you fail, I will still be here. " 'I see. Whaes in the
bag. " 'Heart of Joy, "said Joftaz.

James dosed his eyes a moment. Joy was a common drug in the poor
quarters of most cities in Kesh, and showed up from time to time in
Krondor and other port cities in the Kingdom. A small amount consumed in
wine or water would induce a pleasant euphoria for up to a night. A
slightly larger dose would transport the user to a state of happiness
that could last days. If the dose was too large, the user would be
rendered unconscious.

Heart of Joy was a different thing. It was the essence of the drug,
compounded in such a way as to make it easy to transport. When sold, it
would be mixed in with a harmless powder, often powdered sugar or even
flour, anything that would dissolve. By weight it was worth a thousand
times more than Joy when sold on the streets of the city. 'A bag that
size is worth 'Enough to ensure that Jacob will have to run for his life
when the

Crawler finds out, and any who might be held responsible as well say

Linsey and Franldin - will flee along with him. "

James filled in, 'Leaving a void into which you can step to reestablish
business locally in a fashion more to your liking. "Narrowing his eyes,
James added, 'And he who finds it will find anxious buyers

Willing to say nothing about where the drug came from, realizing
enormous profits. "

With a smile, Joftaz said, Well, there is that. " 'So, if I get that
bag, you put the Crawler's agents in Silden out out of business and make
yourself a fortune in the process. " 'If all goes well. "

James said, We'll be in the corner, my friends and 1. When you are
ready, tell me where I must go and what I must know. "

We dose the common room at midnight. Wait untii I do, then we shall see
about your needs. "

James returned to the table, and Owyn said, What did you find out? "

That nothing in life is ever free, "said James, sitting down -and
leaning his chair back against the wall, settling in for a long
afternoon's wait.

The house was apparently deserted, its occupant away on some errand,

Gorath was instructed to standa few doors down, watching for anyone,
coming up from the docks, Owyn stood on the other side of the street,
watching in the other direction. Both agreed to cooperate, both
expressing their doubts as to the wisdom of this enterprise.

James quickly inspected the door for obvious alarms and found none. He
judged the lock an easy enough one to pick, but just for reassurance, he
ran his thumb along the doo@amb. Unexpectedly he found a crack in the
wood, which moved under his thumb. Carefully he pushed on it, and heard
a slight click from within. Pushing harder, he moved the wood. From
behind it protruded a piece of metal.

James removed a brass key from a hiding place in the wood. He almost
laughed. It was an old, very simple trick, and served two purposes: the
key was never lost if the owner was in a hurry leaving someplace else,
and it disarmed whatever trap waited inside. In the daylight, James
expected he could have looked for hours and not seen it, but an old
thief had once taught him to trust his other senses, including touch.
Running the thumb over the doo@amb occasionally brought splinters as its
only reward, but the sound of that click made the hours James had spent
fishing splinters out of his thumb with a steel needie worth it.

James still knelt as he pushed the door open slightly, ready for
anything that would alert him to another trap. By kneeling, any crossbow
bolt aimed at the door should fly overhead.

A

The door slid open easily and no device sent death his way.

He moved quickly through the door and closed it behind him. fie
inspected the room without moving. He never knew where someone would
hide valuables, but most people were predictable.

This time, however, he considered the owner of this place was not most
people', but someone who would do something unpredictable.

So his first choice was to look for something out of place.

The room was undistinguished. A simple table, a large breakfront clothes
closet, and a bed. A door to a rear yard where the outhouse would be. A
fireplace, above which rested potted plants on a wide mantel, and next
to that a door leading into a small kitchen.

Then it registered on James. Potted plants? He moved to inspect them.
They were dry and dying, and he knew the reason why. He couldn't
remember the name of the variety, but Princess Anita had struggled to
raise the same plants in her garden in Krondor. She had remarked that
they were difficult to grow in soil with as much salt as the soil near
the palace, and that they demanded a great deal of sunlight.

Silently, James asked, why would a leader of a gang of cutthroats in a
pesthole like Silden have potted plants on his mantel? He carefully
lifted the pots, one at a time, until he picked up the one on the far
right. It was lighter than the rest. He lifted the plant and it came
away, devoid of dirt on the roots. Under it he found a bag, and he
returned the plant to the pot and opened the bag. In the dim light
coming from the sole window to the house he saw what he expected to see,
a slightly yellowish powder.

He tied the bag and moved quickly to the door. One backward glance
reassured him he hadn't inadvertently touched anything. He slipped
through the door and dosed it behind him. He locked it, and returned the
key, resetting whatever trap had awaited the unwary on the other side.

He motioned without looking at either of his friends and they returned
to the Anchorhead Inn. As they neared the door at the rear, left open
for them by joftaz, James felt a flush of excitement.

No matter how high he might someday rise in the King's service, there
was a part of him that would always be Jimmy the Hand.

Inside he handed over the bag to Joftaz and said, Well, then, your part
of the bargain!

Joftaz admired the bag of powder for a moment, then put it behind the
bar. 'To find the owner of that spider, you must seek out the trader,

Abuk. I have sold four such as this to him over the last two years. "

James produced the spyglass. 'What about this? "

Joftaz admired the glass and held it up to his eye. His eye widened and
he put down the glass, glancing around the room. 'This is a dangerous
thing, my friend. "

Why" 'It shows secrets, and some secrets are worth killing to preserve
or to learn. "He handed the spyglass back to James. 'I have heard of
such as these. They are modest-looking, but valuable. You pierce
illusions, see traps and hiding places with a glass like that. I have
heard of such glass being fashioned for generals to pierce the fog and
smoke on the battlefield. " 'Do you know who might have sold this? "
'Again I say, Abuk. Had this item come to you from any other source, I
would not guess, but if you found it near the spider, I suspect they
were both sold by him, and to the same man. " 'Then we need a room for
the night, my new old friend, and then we're off in search of Abuk. "

They shook hands and Joftaz said, 'You serve your king well, MY new old
friend, for not only do you seek out Nighthawks who do black murder in
the darkest hour of the night, you have rid Silden of the plague of the
Crawler. Jacob and his companions will be on the first ship bound for
distant lands once word of this reaches their employers. Now, IT show
you to your rooms, then I must find a certain rumour-monger to spread
word that three Keshian gentlemen now residing in Silden have just sold
a great deal of Heart of Joy to a smuggler bound for the island Kingdom
of Roldem. "

Joftaz took them up to a room and bid them goodnight, and informed them
that they should expect to encounter Abuk on the road between Silden and
Lyton, as he was due back from there in the next few days. James settled
in and quickly fell asleep, feeling at last he was making some progress
in unravelling these mysteries.

NINE

Suspect

T he mules lumbered up the road.

There was no mistaking the waggon as it hove into sight around a bend, a
days ride east of Silden. The green wagon had huge red letters on the
side, proclaiming 'Abuk. Trader in fine wares. "

The driver was a large, bull-necked man with an impressive mane of
flaming red hair and a long beard that reached to his belt. If a dwarf
could grow to more than six feet in height, this is what he'd look like,
thought James as they halted before the waggon. 'You're the trader,
Abuk? asked James loudly.

The trader reined in his team of mules. 'It's what is written in large
letters on the side of this waggon, -stranger, so either you can't read
or you're oblivious to the obvious. I am Abuk. "

James grimaced at the remark about the obvious. Well, you could have
stolen his rig. " 'True, and I could have cut his hair and beard to
create my disguise, as well. But I didn't. "He regarded the three riders
before him. 'What may I do for you? "

We are in the market for some information. "

Abuk said, 'Information is often my most profitable commodity. "

James walked his horse close enough to the buckboard of the waggon to
hand over the silver spider. 'Can you tell me to whom you sold this? "
'Yes, "said Abuk. 'For the sum of a hundred golden sovereigns, I can. "

James grinned, and there was nothing but menace in his smile. 'Or we
could arrange for you to have a discussion with the Royal

Interrogator regarding your part in the death of fifiy of the King's

Own Royal Lancers. "

What? "demanded the startled Abuk. 'Fifty Royal Lancers were murdered? "
'In Romney, "supplied Owyn.

The trader was silent for a moment, calculating his chances of survival
against his potential for profit, if James was any sort of judge of men.
Finally he said, J take no responsibility for that act; I merely sell
goods which are not banned by law. "He handed the spider back
toiames.'This is one of two I sold in the north, A poor imitation was
sold to a man named Michael Waylander in the village of Sloop. He is a
prominent member of the Glaziersguild in the City of Romney.

The other was sold to a man whose name I do not know, but I know he is
from the north. "

James showed Abuk the spyglass. What of this? "

Tou have proven the man you seek is the one I described, for he also
purchased this glass. I sold both items to him at the Queen@s

Row Tavern in Malac's Cross, and you might inquire there of the
innkeeper, who seemed to know this man. He was an exceptional chess
player, by what I overheard. " 'If you met him in Malac's Cross, why
then did you say he was from the north? 'Because I overheard the
innkeeper ask him if he was returning to the north, and the man said he
was indeed heading home!

James did not look pleased. We must then return to Malac's Cross. "

Abuk said, 'I might be able to save you a journey, for a small fee. "

James asked, 'How small? " 'A dozen golden sovereigns, I think! 'Five, I
think, and I forget your name when I speak to the King's

Inquisitor. " 'Done, "said Abuk.

James gave him the money and the man said, 'Now that I recall, he did
mention the town of Kenting Rush. "

James looked at Owyn, who nodded. 'I know it. If s north of my

Uncle Corvallis's home in Cavell Village. "

Abuk looked at Owyn. 'Your uncle is the Baron Corvallis;"

Owyn said, 'Yes, he is. " 'I know him, "said Abuk. 'He's a man of ill
humour, if you don't mind me saying so. "

Owyn grinned. 'No one who knows him will argue that. "

'If we are done? "asked Abuk to James. James indicated they were, and
the vivid green waggon started forward again.

After Abuk was safely away, James turned to Owyn. 'What do you think?
Malac's Cross or north to Kenting Rush? "

Owyn said, 'Kenting Rush is a small town, barely more than a dozen shops
and inns. Mostly farmers and small estates in the area.

There can't be too many men matching the description of the man we seek
in residence there. "

Gorath said, 'Good, because time is growing short. It's been more than a
month since I left my homeland and Delekhan's power grows while we seek
out information. It would do us no good to discover his plans by
witnessing them executed! 'A good point, "said James, turning his horse
around. 'Let us head north. "He urged his mount forward and set off at a
brisk trot. A few minutes later they overtook and passed Abuk, and with
a wave of farewell, continued down the road.

The passage between their encounter with Abuk and the tum-off to the
City of Romney went without a hitch. They paused in Romney to change
horses and see if things were calming down there.

Michael Waylander, Damon Reeves and Arle Steelsoul had heeded the Earrs
warning and appeared within days of the message being delivered. They
were now locked in earnest negotiations with the other guild leaders to
end the struggle between the rival guilds in the city and order was
slowly returning to Romney.

The next morning, James, Gorath and Owyn departed on fresh horses, and
hurried north through the rolling farmland that bordered the River Rom.
The towns and villages along the river were undistinguished, much like
the village of Sloop, bearing names like

Greenland, Hobbs, Tuckney, Pranles Stone and Farview. For days they
rode, always alert, and by keeping a steady pace, they reached the area
south of Cavell Village. Several times they had passed bands of armed
men, but none had offered them challenge, and they arrived without
incident.

Rounding a bend in the road, they crossed a small bridge that took them
over a swift-running stream. James looked down and observed, 'This is
deep. "

Owyn said, 'Deeper than it looks. More than one idiot's been

drowned trying to swim across. It's a feeder to the River Rom, coming
down from the mountains over there. "He pointed to the west, where
bluffs rose. 'Let me show you something, "he added as he turned his
horse off the road.

They followed an old dirt roadway, grown over by grass in several
places, obviously unused for a long time. Gorath said, 'I see fresh
tracks. Someone has ridden here lately. "

Owyn said, 'Undoubtedly. I'll show you why when we round this bend. "

They rode around a sharp turn, where a bluff rose up to a cliff-top
overhead, and halted. Before them an impressive-looking waterfall
thundered down from the cliffs above, exactly three hundred feet above.
On both sides the gorge rose steeply, and was covered with thick
forests. 'Cavell Run, "said Owyn.

What's that? "asked James. 'It's the name of the stream. It's also what
we call the tunnels under the old keep. "He pointed to the top of the
cliffs and by squinting

James could make out the grey edifice that rested atop the cliffs. 'How
did you know about this?

Owyn turned his horse back and said, '@When I was a boy, we came here
several times. I used to play with my cousin Ugyne in the run.

They're a huge set of tunnels and caves under the keep. Used for storage
in ancient times, but mostly abandoned now. "He pointed backwards as
they left sight of the waterfall. 'There's even a bolt-hole behind the
waterfall if you know where to look. Ugyne and I found it from the
inside of the run when I was nine and she was eight. We stripped off and
went swimming. We almost froze to death; the water is all snowmelt
running down the ridges from the mountains above.

Ugyne got a pretty heavy whipping from her father, too. My uncle has
never curbed his temper as long as I've known him. 'But it still didn't
stop Ugyne and me from playing up there. "

James asked, 'How many know about the run? " 'Most of the locals know
there are tunnels under the old keep. A few might even suspect there's a
bolt-hole under the waterfall. But

I doubt anyone outside the family, the old guard commander, and maybe
one or two of the older servants, has any idea where it is. It's pretty
well hidden. "

Theycontinued on toward Cavellvillage, arriving at mid-afternoon.

As they turned off the road and moved to within sight of the place,

James said, 'For a village it's rather prosperous. "

Owyn laughed. 'I guess. It was a village for a couple of hundred

Vears, but became a busy farming centre about fifty years ago. Since the
fire in the keep forced my uncle to move into the village about three
years ago, all business is conducted down here. I think he and his
household account for a third of the houses here in the village. "
'Fire? asked Jimmy as they reached the outer buildings. 'What was that?
" 'No one knows, "said Owyn. 'The story is my uncle was having some work
done in one of the lower chambers and a fire broke out, working its way
up through the building, gutting it and making it unsafe to live in.
There had already been a collapse in the lower tunnels, where my uncle
was expanding his wine cellar. My cousin Neville died in that collapse.
He was a few years older than Ugyne and me. He was an

Odd boy-, it always seemed to me his father didn't care much for him.

Ugyne was always Uncle Corvallis's favourite.'He was lost in memory for
a moment, then returned to the present. 'Anyway, that basement was just
sealed off, with my cousin's unclaimed body still under tons of rock.
'The fire started not far from there, and the maid who is blamed for
starting it died in the flames, so no one is quite sure how it began.

It burned up from below, weakening timbers and causing floors and walls
to collapse. Uncle's been telling everyone he was going to repair
everything and move back in some day, but so far we've seen little proof
of it. "

They rode down the main street of the village, a broad thoroughfare that
ended in a large square, dominated by a fountain and three other streets
which ran off at odd angles to the one on which they rode. 'That house
over there, "said Owyn, turning his horse so they could ride around the
fountain. The afternoon market was underway and the buyers and sellers
ignored the three riders for the most part, though one or two gave
Gorath a second glance.

They reached the front of the Baron's house and a stableboy ran over and
said, 'Master Owyn! It's been years. "

Owyn smiled. 'Hello, Tad. You're caring for horses now? "

The boy, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, nodded. 'Yes,

sir. Now that we have no proper stable the Baron's keeping his guests'
mounts over at the inn. "He pointed to an inn directly opposite the

Baron's house. It was dominated by a sign of a wood-ducles head. 'I'll
arrange rooms for you. "

Owyn smiled. 'You're telling me my uncle won't be happy to see me and
offer me a room? "

The boy nodded. 'He's not really happy to see anyone, these days,

Master Owyn. If you were here alone, he might offer, but with your
friends ... ?'He smiled apologetically and said no more.

Owyn sent him off with the horses and instructions to get them one large
room for the night.

They mounted steps to the large house. James glanced around and said,
'This house dwarfs the rest in the village. "

Owyn smiled at the understatement. The rest of the village ranged from
simple huts of wattle and daub with thatch to some two-storey wooden
houses with small gardens. The inns were the only buildings that matched
the Baron's residence. 'It used to be an inn, but fell on hard times. My
uncle bought it and converted it to his own use. There is a stable in
the rear, but it's occupied by his company of personal guards.'Lowering
his voice, Owyn said,'Like many minor nobles, my uncle has more rank
than money. The rents are modest, the taxes to the Duke of Cheam
considerable, and my uncle has never been what you would call an
enterprising man. "

They knocked upon the door. The door opened a crack. A serving woman of
middle years peeked through and when she saw Gorath in his armour
standing before her, her eyes widened and her complexion turned pale.
'Hello, Miri, "said Owyn, coming into her field of vision. 'It's all
right. Theyre with me. "

The woman said, 'Master Owyn, "and swung the door wide. 'Could you
please tell Uncle Corvallis we're here? "

The woman nodded and hurried off. A few minutes later a tall man,
affecting a velvet coat and lace-front shirt, with far too many rings)
arrived and said coolly, 'Nephew, we had no word of your arrival. "H
cast a disapproving eye upon James and Gorath. 'Thaes all right, uncle.
We intrude. We've already made arrangements to stay at the inn across
the square. May I present to you

Seigneurjames, squire to Prince Arutha, and our companion, Gorath.

Gentlemen, my uncle, Baron Corvallis of Cavell. "

At the mention of a relationship to the Prince of Krondor, Baron

Corvallis's attitude softened slightly. He nodded at James and said,
'Seigneur. "Looking at Gorath as if he didn't know what to make of him,
he said, 'Elven sir, welcome. "He made a sweeping gesture and said, 'If
you will join me in my parlour, I'll send for some wine. "He signalled
to the serving woman and said, 'Miri, a bottle of wine and four goblets.
"

They followed the Baron into a hallway through what had been the old
common room of the inn, now divided into several different rooms. The
rear stairway to the upper rooms was visible at the end of the entrance
hall, and James absently wondered if the old bar was still intact.
Apparently he would never know, as they turned into a corner room with
two large windows, overlooking the village square.

The Baron indicated three chairs and took a fourth for himself. What
brings you to Cavell Village, Seigneur? 'The Prince's business, "said
James. 'There was some trouble down in Romney, and, as an outgrowth of
that, we're investigating rumours of Nighthawks returning to the
Kingdom. "

At mention of Nighthawks, the Baron almost levitated out of his chair.
'Rumours!"he shouted. 'They are not rumours. There is wicked slaughter
being done here in the north and I have sent reports to my lord the Duke
of Cheam. They have tried to kill me three times!"

James attempted to look concerned. 'It was those very things that
brought me here. The Prince is adamant, as is his brother the King - '

Lyam probably had no idea what was happening, but James had long ago
learned that dropping the King's name from time to time was a very
powerful thing to do' - can't countenance the idea of unprovoked
assaults upon their nobles. "

At mention of the King, the Baron seemed almost reassured. 'Good, it's
about time. "

James said, Why don't you tell us of your situation. "

His face flushed with emotion, the Baron spoke quickly and with anger.
'Fhree years ago a maid died in a fire that started near the abandoned
wine cellar. At the time, I thought it was merely a tragic accident, but
now I'm convinced it was but the first attempt on my life. 'A year ago,
while out hunting, a band of riders, all clad in black, appeared on the
ridgeline and rode at us with weapons at the ready.

Only a fox flushed by my hounds saved me, as the animal bolted

across a field before the attackers, and the pursuing hounds caused
their horses to falter. Lost my best hound that day. "

He motioned to Miri, who had appeared at the door, to serve his guests.
'Then last month, I was shot at by men from behind cover.

The arrow cut my tunic, here. "He pointed to his shoulder. 'A hand's
span lower and I'd be a dead man. "

James glanced at Owyn who nodded slightly, indicating the Baron wasn't
exaggerating.

Baron Corvallis continued. 'I dare not leave my own house, save perhaps
to visit the inn with personal guards on all sides. My daughter disobeys
me and runs like a common child across the fields and consorts with all
manner of questionable riff-raff. She should be meeting respectable
suitors at her age, but instead she walks through the fields with a
despicable creature who woos her with sweet lies. "

Owyn tried to look serious, but was obviously amused by something He
said, '@Who is this foul being, uncle? 'A man of commerce! Ugyne should
be accepting court from the sons of barons, earls, even dukes, but not a
common merchant.

My solicitor Myron loves her, and while lowborn, has some ties to
nobility. I would suffer him ask for her hand if she would settle down,
but she's filled with fanciful notions of romance and adventure,
irritating enough traits in a son, but utterly unacceptable in a
daughter. " 'Does this agent of chaos have a name, uncle? asked Owyn.

Nearly spitting, Corvallis said, 'Navon du Sandau! I know he is a
criminal. He wears clothing of costly weave and rides the finest black
horse I have seen, yet he speaks little of his commercial enterprises.
He claims to be a factor for several rich families and nobles, as well
as an agent for trading concerns in the south and west. Yet I have never
seen him on an errand of business; rather he is mysteriously absent or
hanging around, wooing MY daughter. "

Owyn sipped at his wine, then asked, Where is Ugyne, unde? 'Probably out
near the road, wandering the fields, waiting for snow to fall or Navon
to arrive. "

James took another drink of the somewhat indifferent wine and said,
We've imposed upon your hospitality long enough. "He stood

and said, We'll investigate this as quickly as we can and see what can
be done to end these threats on the peace of your village. " 'Thank you,
Seigneur, "said the Baron. He said, 'Owyn, give my regards to your
father and mother when next you see them. "He nodded at Gorath as the
moredhel walked past. Unsure of what to say, he merely nodded again.

At the door, he said, 'Owyn, if you're in the village next Sixthday, do
me the pleasure of dining with us. Bring your friends. "

The door closed and James laughed. 'That gives us five days to find what
we're looking for and leave before he's forced to make good on his
offer. "

Owyn said, 'My uncle is a difficult man at the best of times, but he is
genuinely frightened. " 'Even I, who know not your race that well, could
tell that, "said

Gorath. 'Yet one thought bothers me. "

What? asked James. 'Only one? 'Among many, "said Gorath. 'If the
Nighthawks had truly wanted him dead, he would be dead. The dogs
interrupting the attack on horse, perhaps. But a near miss by an archer
seems improbable. " 'Having faced the Nighthawks several times, I'd
agree, "said James.

They entered the Ducles Head Inn.

The common room was relatively uncrowded, it still being afternoon The
innkeeper crossed from behind the bar and said, 'You're the gentlemen in
to see the Baron? 'Yes, "said James. 'I'm Peter the Grey, "he said with
a slight bow, 'and I have the privilege of owning this establishment.
Your rooms are ready any time you are, and we have a full board and a
choice of wines and ale. " 'Ale, "said Gorath. 'I have little affection
for wine. "

James laughed. 'Given the Baron's choice in wine, I don't blame you.,

Owyn nodded. 'You can't imagine what it would have been had

You not been a member of the Prince's court. "

Peter the Greys eyebrows shot up. 'A member of the Prince's court? Well,
then, I best ensure we only serve the finest. A member, gentlemen!"

As Peter hurried away, James called after, 'And food, please. "

They sat and Owyn said, 'Sorry you had to endure the ramblings

of my uncle. Compared to the troubles we're investigating, his woes must
be pathetic by comparison. "

James was thoughtful. 'Perhaps, but there may be a connection here. I'm
not quite sure what it is, but why would the Nighthawks harass your
uncle, yet not kill him? " 'To keep him frightened, "suggested Gorath.

Just then Peter the Grey arrived with the ate and placed frosty mugs
before each of them. James sipped and nodded with appreciation.

Wonderful. " 'Ale from the Grey Towns, sir, and we keep it cold. " 'You
ship ice down here? " 'No, "said Peter. There are deep caves not too far
from here where

I leave my barrels. I sell it too quickly for it to warm up before the
barrers empty. "

James smiled. 'Situated as you are directly across the square from the
Baron's home, you must see him a lot. "

Peter shook his head. 'Hardly at all, truth to tell. The Baron only
leaves his home rarely, and then always with armed guards.'He picked up
his tray and said, 'Ill bring some food straight away, sir. "

James said, 'Something is eating at my mind, but I can't quite pin it
down. " 'Something to do with my unde? " 'Yes, "said James, 'but Gorath
has pointed out the one thing in this that makes no sense: why go to the
trouble of frightening the Baron, but not kill ..."Suddenly James's eyes
widened. 'Peted' he called.

The patron of the inn returned in a hurry. 'Sir? "

What was it you just said about the Baron, about you not seeing him. "
'I just said the Baron leaves his home only rarely, and then with armed
guards. " 'When did this start? " 'Right after the Nighthawks started
hunting him, I guess. " 'You know about the Nighthawks? asked James.

Well, we know what people say. " 'And what would that be? " 'That the
Guild of Assassins has set up shop around here an they've marked the
Baron for some sort of punishment. "

James said, 'Thank you, Peter. Sorry to have disturbed you. "

Owyn said, 'My did you want him to come back? " 'To help me think this
through,'said James. 'Look, the Nighthawks aren't trying to kill the
Baron. They're trying to make the Baron stay in his house. " asked
Gorath.

James said, 'To stop him from rebuilding the keep. "

Owyn said, 'what in the world good would that do? It's an old
fortification, and if there's an army heading this way, it's not going
to cause them much trouble. "

James said, 'I don't think anyone cares about the keep. I think they
care about what's under it. "

Owyn's eyes widened. 'The run? 'You said there was a secret passage into
caverns that run under the mountains, and the old keep's armoury and
storage are down there.

You could hide an army under there, I bet. " 'Or a nest of Nighthawks,
"added Gorath.

Owyn said, 'But how would they know? " 'The run isn't a family secret is
it? " 'No, a few others know of its existence, but finding the entrance
from outside would be nearly impossible. " 'Owyn!"a female voice cried
happily from across the inn.

They turned to see a tall, leggy young woman in a simple dress hurrying
across the room. She nearly knocked Owyn back into his chair as he tried
to stand up while she threw her arms around him. 'Uh, Ugyne!"said Owyn,
grinning and blushing at the same time as she hugged him.

The girl was pretty in a sunburned, wild fashion. Her hair was windblown
and unkempt and she looked as if she had been sitting on the ground, as
her dress was streaked with dried mud in the back.

She stopped hugging him long enough to deliver an enthusiastic kiss on
the lips, then she stood back, holding him at arm's length as she
studied her cousin. 'You've grown into a fair-looking man, given what a
pathetic little boy you were, "she said with a laugh.

Owyn blushed deeply and laughed. 'You haven't changed, I see. "

She pushed him back into the chair then sat down imperiously on his lap.
'Of course I have. I was a little girl the last time you saw me; now I'm
a grown woman. "

James grinned. This grown woman appeared to be eighteen at the

outside, and while she was striking in her vivaciousness, she was still
a little gangly and moved with a studied purpose, as if to mask her
uncertainty.

Owyn said, 'Ugyne, these are my friends, James and Gorath. "

She nodded and smiled as she said, 'Hello. "Of Owyn, she asked, 'Have
you seen Daddy yet? I assume you did. Tad was the one who told me you
were here. "

We did, and if we're here on Sixthday, we'll be dining with you. " 'Oh,
please do stay. Supper alone with Father is such a bore!

James said, We may be gone, Ugyne. We have pressing business. " 'What
sort of business?'she asked with a pout. She looked at Owyn.. 'My
favourite cousin comes to town after too many years and wants to bolt
the next day@'

Owyn said, 'No, but we're on ... business for the Crown. " 'Oh? she said
with raised eyebrows. 'Really? "

James nodded. 'Really. "

Well, then, "she said, 'I'll have to insist that either Father have you
over earlier or you stay, but you'll not leave town until we've had a
chance to visit. " 'What have you been doing with yourself? "asked Owyn.
'Your father seems very concerned about how you spend your time. "

She turned up her nose at the mention of her father's opinion and said,
'Father wants me to sit around all day in that dark house, waiting for
some noble to ride up and take my hand in marriage, and is terrified
I'll run off with someone. " 'Anyone in particular? asked Owyn.

She reached over and took his mug of ale and took a delicate sip from
it, as if it was the most brazen act imaginable. 'There's Myron,

Daddys solicitor here in the village. He's a widower with a lovely
little girl I adore, but he's so .. 'Dull? supplied James. 'No,
predictable. He's a nice man, but I want something more. " 'Anyone else?
"asked Owyn.

Why?. Did I say there was anyone else? she asked with a glimmer in her
eyes and a smile on her lips. 'No, "said Owyn, 'but your father did. "
'Navon du Sandau, "said Ugyne. 'He makes Father farious. " asked James.

'He's a man of trade, not nobility, and even Myron, my father's
solicitor, is related to nobility: he's the nephew of the late Earl of

Silden, on his mother's side. " Are you in love with Navon? "asked Owyn.

She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. 'Not really. He's interesting,
if a little ... strange. " 'Strange? "asked Owyn. 'How? " 'I find him
staring at me in odd ways, when he thinks I'm not looking. "

Owyn laughed and tickled her. 'That's because you are odd looking

She playfidly slapped his hands away. 'But he's interesting. He's very
attractive, and intelligent, and he says he's been everywhere.

And he has a great deal of wealth, which is the only reason Father
hasn't ordered him whipped out of town by the guards. If I can't marry
nobility, Father will settle for wealth. " 'Are you going to marry this
Navon? " 'Probably not, "she said, jumping out of Owyn's lap. 'He's too
ardent and ... dangerous. " 'Dangerous? "said Gorath, speaking for the
first time to the girl. 'I know little of your customs, but isn't that
an odd term to describe a suitor.

She shrugged and replied, 'I don't know. He's fascinating, if a little
odd at times, and he's taught me a few things. " 'Oh? "asked Owyn, his
voice registering both curiosity and disapproval

She punched him in the shoulder. 'Not that, you evil boy! He's taught me
about things like poetry, music, and he's taught me to play chess. "
'Chess? "asked Owyn, casting a glance at James. 'Yes, "she said. 'He's
the finest chess player in Kenting Rush, probably in the entire area. He
travels to Malac's Cross regularly to play against the best in the
Kingdom at the Queen's Row Tavern and has played against nobles in
Krondor and Great Kesh!'Her description indicated some pride in the
claims.

Well, "said James. 'Perhaps we can meet him some time. " 'Come to supper
on Sixthday and you can, "she said. 'He's coming to see me by the end of
the week!"

With a laugh and a half-twirl that set her skirt swirling around her
knees, she turned and half-skipped, half-walked to the door. Looking
over her shoulder, she smiled at Owyn and left.

Gorath said, 'The women of your people are ... interesting. "

James laughed. 'She's young. She's working a little too hard at being
vivacious.'He shook his head in appreciation. 'But give her a couple of
years and she won't have to work. She's quite the charmer. "

Owyn sighed as he leaned back in his chair. 'She's the only member of my
family I ever really cared for around here. "

Peter the Grey arrived with their food and as he set the table, Owyn
said, 'I never knew my cousin Neville - he died when I was young and

I had only seen him once before that. "

Peter interrupted, 'Baron Corvallis's Neville? You said you were in to
see him, young sir, but nothing about being his nephew. " 'Sorry, "said
Owyn. 'I wasn't trying to hide the fact. " 'You're young Owyn, "he said.
'You don't remember me, do you? "

Owyn said, 'Sorry, but I don't. " 'I was one of the cooks up in the
keep, before that tragic day when young Neville died. You were only six
or seven back then, and I only saw you once or twice when you visited. I
bought this inn not long after, and you never stopped in before today.
The old Baron, well, it changed him. He was a different man after that,
but it killed his wife. " 'I don't remember much about it, "admitted
Owyn.

Peter needed little prompting to gossip and said, Well, the story goes
that there was some difficulty between the Baron and the master builder
he hired to work on the lower caves and tunnels as he expanded his wine
cellar. The odd thing was he was also named du Sandau, like

Navon. "

James and Owyn exchanged glances.

Peter went on. Well, this Sandau was the finest stonemason in the
region, but he was also a drunk and a womanizer; rumour is he had his
way with many of the ladies of the court down in Rillanon before coming
north. 'He worked on several portions of the old run, under the keep,
and usually the Baron was happy with the work. But this wine cellar, for
some reason, had problems. They argued and the Baron was always in a
foul temper.

'Then came that black day. " 'The day Neville died? "asked Owyn. 'Yes,
it was the same accident that killed Sandau. The ceiling collapsed. No
one knew why. All the men in the area struggled for days to remove the
rubble, but it was to no avail; Neville and the workers in the room
died. " 'What was the boy doing in the room? "asked Gorath. 'No one
knows. He liked to watch the masons, and his father didn't object.
"Peter shrugged. 'But the Baron's. never been quite the same since then.
And the loss of the boy killed the Baroness, I will avow.

She mourned for months, then got sick, and even the healing priests from
the temples couldn't keep her alive. She died a little more than a year
after. Before the boy died, she was a woman of unusual steel.

Ugyne's like her; it's what kept the girl sane, I think, losing a
brother and mother within a year. "Peter shook his head in sympathy as
he recalled the girl's pain. 'She's managed to turn into quite a special
person, by my lights. "

James nodded as Owyn said, 'She is, no argument. "

Peter left and James said, 'This family of yours has had its share of
tragedy. "

Owyn said, 'I know. But Ugyne seems to have found some happiness. "
'Even if it's only tormenting her father, "said James, and even

Grorath laughed at that.

Well, then, "asked Owyn, 'what are we to do? " 'I think we have dinner
with your uncle on Sixthday and I think we see if someone here wants to
play chess. "

Owyn nodded and sat back, content to rest a few days before the next
conflict.

TEN

Nighthawks

W ater ffi@ ndered down mountainside. m , r a el ath and sat on their
horses near the base of f s.@ i f tjhe th a e to fill in between their
discussion with Ugyne and their coming supper with her father on
Sixthday,

James had decided to scout around. He had made sure the talkative

Peter the Grey knew they were heading down the road on business, but as
soon as they had cleared the precinct of Cavell Village, they had turned
off the road to investigate Cavell Run.

The spray struckjames as the wind shifted. 'You used to play here? " he
asked Owyn. 'No, not really. "He pointed up the side of the mountain.
'We used to play up there, in a pool, near the spot the bolt-hole exits
the hillside. "

Gorath said, 'My people's children are not allowed to play unsupervised.
"With a note of contempt, he added, 'But then you humans breed like
fieldmice; if a child dies, you just have another. "

James threw him a black look. 'It's not quite that simple. "

Gorath asked, 'So why are we here?

James asked, 'If you wanted to use the old run as a base of operations,
would you want the Baron and his family up there? "

Owyn's eyes widened. 'You think the Nighthawks started the fire? "

James shrugged. 'I don't know. But it's pretty convenient, and by
harassing him, they keep the Baron from starting his rebuilding. "

They rode along the banks of the river toward the cliffs, and Gorath
said, 'I have fought these Nighthawks at your side, and you have
mentioned them before, but I still do not understand their part in all
this. "

James said, 'It isn't difficult; theyre a brotherhood of assassins who
work for whoever pays their way. Mercenaries. I faced one on the roofs
of Krondor when I was a boy and have faced them many times since then.
'They were pawns of Murmandamus for a while and served with iiis Black
Slayers. "

Gorath almost spat. 'The Black Slayers were an obscenity! Men of no
honour who gave over life and spirit to Murmandamus for promises of
eternal power and glory! It is said by our lore keepers that those who
did so will never join the Mothers and Fathers in the Life After. "

James turned his horse to follow around a small knoll, and said, 'I must
admit, I know little of you or your elven kin, Gorath, though I've
fought the moredhel and spent time with the glamredhel and elves. "

Gorath said, We dislike one another enough that we don't like to alk
ther, ies true, so I have no doubt you heard little good of
us from the eledhel. The glamredhel are the mad ones, those without
purpose and without magic. They lived by their wits and held strong in
the Edder Woods in the Northlands until they were hunted down and
destroyed. "

James shook his head. 'Destroyed? Theyve gone to Elvandar and now reside
there. "

Gorath reined in his horse. 'Delekhan!" 'What? "asked James, turning to
look at the dark elf. 'He let it be known that he had destroyed Earnon
and his tribe in the Edder. "

Well, Old King Redtree is alive and well, living up in Elvandar.

Last I heard they were involved in some sort of discussion as to who was
in charge. "

Gorath tilted his head, as if listening to something. 'In charge? I do
not understand. " 'I don't pretend I do, either, "said James as they
followed another bend in the road, and began approaching the waterfall.
'Duke Martin is a regular visitor to Elvandar and sends reports to
Krondor. As I understand it, Redtree and his people are trying to decide
if they're going to be part of Aglaranna's people, or separate, but
living among them. Something like that. " 'It's passing strange, "said
Gorath. 'I would assume Aglaranna would enslave them had they come
begging for refuge. "

James laughed. 'You find that funny? " 'I've met old Redtree and he
doesn't exactly strike me as the type to beg or to accept slavery
without killing a couple of hundred people first. "

Gorath nodded. 'He is a warrior of great skill and power. "

They could again feel the spray off the waterfall and James asked,
'Owyn, where is the entrance? "

Owyn said, We'll have to tie the horses and walk from here. "

They did so, and as they reached a place beside the waterfall, where the
spray was heavy enough to soak them in minutes, James said,'How many
people knew of this entrance? " 'A few, in my family, and among the
staff. Ugyne and I, along with

Neville, used to play there. We got beaten when we were caught, and

I don't think the Baron ever found out that we knew the entire route
from the keep to the bolt-hole. "He pointed to a rock a few feet above
his head. 'This is why no one in the village ever found their way into
the keep. I need a leg up. "

James made a cup with his hand and gave Owyn a boost, and the young
magician pulled himself to the ledge. He said, 'Hand me my staff. "They
did, and he said, 'Now, stand back. "

They stood away, and Owyn used his staff to move a rock. A rumbling
caused James to move even farther back. A large rock face moved aside.
Owyn jumped down with an'oof 'and stood up. 'Getting oues easy. There's
a lever just inside. Getting in is impossible if you don't know the
trick. "

James moved just inside the entrance and said, 'Someone found the trick.
Look. "

Dust had coated the entire length of the tunnel, but the middle of the
tunnel showed clearly that many feet had trodden the floor recently.
Gorath said, 'As we move along this tunnel, we will soon lose the
masking noise of the waterfall. Tread softly. "

James said, We need a torch. "

Owyn said, 'No, we don't. I'll make us some light. "

Owyn dosed his eyes, then held out his hand. A sphere of soft light
surrounded him, less than would have come from a torch, but enough for
them to see by. That's handy, "said James.

Owyn shrugged. 'Until recently I didn't know if I'd ever use it for

anything more significant than finding my way to the jakes in the middle
of the night. "

James grinned. 'Let's go. "

He pulled out his sword as did Gorath, and without a word they set off
down the tunnel.

A soft tread of boot leather on stone was all Gorath needed to warn
them. He held up his hand and listened, his more-than-human hearing
announcing the approach of someone. He turned and held up two fingers.

James nodded and motioned for Owyn to move back down the tunnel, taking
his faint light with him, while he and Gorath waited in the gloom for
whoever came toward them. A moment later a light could be seen down the
hall, approaching rapidly. Voices echoed off the rock. 'I don't like it,
"said one. 'You don't have to like it. You only have to follow orders. "
'There used to be a lot more of us, if you remember. " 'I remember, but
the fewer of us, the more gold -'

The two men turned the corner and Gorath and James leaped upon them.
Catching them unexpectedly, James and Gorath had them down before they
knew they were under attack.

But surprise didn't mean surrender, and the two assassins fought like
cornered animals, forcing Owyn to run forward with his staff and lay one
low with a crushing blow to the head.

The other died upon his own knife, as James fell heavily atop the man.

James slowly rose, saying'damn. I wanted a prisoner. "

Gorath said, We are in their nest. It would be wise for us to leave now
that we know where they are and return with soldiers. "

Wise, perhaps, but my experience with these birds is they will have
flown by the time we return. They are never abundant in number, and
quite a few have died recently. I doubt there are more than a half-dozen
left between here and the Teeth of the World.'James pointed a finger
down the hall from where the two had come. 'But if we identify or trap
their leader, we may finally be done with this bunch. 'I thought them
dead and buried ten years ago, but obviously I was wrong. At the least
one or two of them fled to start this murderous

brotherhood again. Only fanatics kill themselves like that. I must find
out if these are but hired blades working for whoever pays the most, or
if they are willing allies of your Delekhan. " 'What difference does it
make when it's Kingdom throats being cut? asked Gorath. 'Men who work
for gold are one thing. Men pledged to dark causes are another. If these
are men working for gold, we can deal with them at leisure, for they
will know little beyond where to pick up their 9014@ and whom to kill.
But if they are involved in these dark plots, perhaps' we will learn
something - ' he pointed down the hall ' - down there!

Gorath and Owyn exchanged glances, and Owyn said, Well, I'd, get bored
out there waiting for you to come back. "He held up his. glowing ring.
'Besides, I have the light. "

Gorath gave a grunt that might have passed for a chuckle.

For nearly half an hour they walked through a long tunnel, then

Owyn said, 'There's a storage room ahead, if I remember. "

They found a large wooden door, still intact and well oiled, behind
which was a barracks. A score of beds were lined up, ten against each
wall, and racks of weapons occupied the far end of the room. Most of the
beds hadn't been slept in, but four showed recent occupation.

Owyn pointed and whispered, 'Those two we killed may have friends dose
by. " 'Or they could already have left, "said James.

They moved to the racks and saw that the weapons were polished and
ready. A variety of lethal-looking blades were stored in orderly
fashion, as well as daggers, throwing knives, darts and strangling
cords. A shelf full of jars was attached to the wall above the rack.
'Poisons, I'm willing to bet, "said James. He looked at Owyn. 'How much
further do these tunnels go? 'Miles, if you mean all the levels. This is
the lowest gallery, and there are three between this one and the
basement of the old keep.

Though I don't think we could get there because of the caved-in wine
cellar.'He pointed to a door at the opposite end of the room. 'Through
there is another room like this one, and then stairs up. "

James went to the door and listened. Hearing nothing, he opened it and
found another barracks, with twenty well-made empty beds. 'No one has
been here for a while, "he observed. 'Not quite true, "said Gorath,
pointing. 'One pair of footprints.

Heading that way. "He indicated the far end of the room, where stone
stairs rose up the wall to a hole in the ceiling. Next to the stairs was
a bed left unmade, apart from the others. A huge wardrobe had been
placed next to the bed, incongruous in its setting. It was made of
highly polished wood with gilt trim, and when James opened it, clothing
of expensive weave and boots of fine leather could be seen. 41Y m
willing to bet the leader of this band of cutthroats is the dandy who
uses this bed. "He looked around. 'See if there's anything here that
might identify this fashion pate. I'm going to check the next floor. "

James hurried up the steps and discovered a large wooden door barred the
way. It was attached to the stones by heavy hinges and a hasp with a
lock. Locks had rarely proved a problem to the former thief, but this
one was of ingenious design and James had fallen out of the habit of
travelling with lockpicks. 'Owyn, what's up here? "

Owyn paused, as if searching his memory, then said, 'It's another
storage room, smaller, but similar to this one, and then there's a long
tunnel leading back into the mountain. "

James came down the stairs. 'Either our quarry is hiding something up
there from his own men, or he's fearful of someone stumbling into this
lair from above. " 'I doubt the second case, "said Owyn. 'Someone would
have to get into the old keep, know how to activate the door from the
armoury to the first tunnel, and besides, most of the upper passages
were buried in the collapse of the old wine cellar. " 'Then he's keeping
something under lock for his own reasons. " 'Perhaps gold, "suggested
Gorath. 'Assassins would have to be paid. "

James said, 'There is that. "He came down the stairs. 'Find anything '
'Just this, "said Owyn. He held out a book.

James took it and read the title on the first page. 'Tbe Abbot's

Journal, "he read aloud. He flipped a few pages and said, 'It's a
collection of stories about your uncle's family, it seems. "He handed it
back to Owyn. 'How did it get here? "

Owyn said, 'I have no idea. It may have been lost when my uncle
evacuated the keep after the fire, and someone combing the rubble above
might have found it. "

'Bring it along, "said James. 'I think I'll do some reading before bed
tonight. "

James led them back the way they had come.

James moved the beds and Gorath asked, 'Is this some human custom of
which I'm not aware? "

James grinned. 'Unless there were no other Nighthawks around, someone is
going to find it odd that two of their lads went missing. My best guess
is Nighthawks don't usually go absent without permission.

So it's not unlikely that whoever discovers they are gone might decide
to come see if we three had something to do with it. "

Once he had the beds crowded against the door, he said, 'If they act as
usual, one or more of them will come through that window while the rest
come in that door. They'll come fast, through the outer door and up the
stairs before Peter the Grey can get out of bed to find out what's
causing all the noise. If they work as planned, by the time old Peter
gets through the kitchen and up these stairs he'll find three bodies
here and an open window. "

Owyn said, 'If they come. "

James grinned. 'Oh, theyll come. We're the only newcomers in the area
whove been hanging around, visiting the Baron, asking questions. I just
don't know if theyll come tonight or tomorrow night.'James turned the
lamp down low, enough so he could read, sat down next to the lamp on the
floor, and opened the book he had had Owyn carry back from Cavell Run.

Owyn produced a second book and said, 'I might as well put this time to
good use, as well. I've neglected this too long. "

What is it? "asked Gorath. 'My book of magic. " 'You wrote a book?
"asked the dark elf. 'No, it's a book each student keeps, recording
thoughts, discoveries, and notations of things observed or learned. "He
produced a quill and a tiny vial of ink. 'When Nago almost hit me with
that spell he threw,

I sensed something, and, well, it's hard to explain, but I'm puzzling
out how he did it. I think with some more study I can do it. "

James looked up. What does it do? " 'If I'm right, it should immobilize
the person struck, maybe more. " 'More? "asked James, now very
interested.

'I think it might eventually kill the victim. "

Gorath, said, 'If it immobilizes, what does it matter? You just pull out
your dagger and walk up and cut his throat. "

Owyn said, 'I guess. When I was at Stardock, the teachers didn't delve
too deeply into violent applications. "

James yawned. Which is wise. It wouldn't do to have a bunch of you
youngsters wandering around that island tossing off fireballs and blasts
of lightning at each other. The tavern brawls would be pretty impressive
in the carnage they left behind. "

Owyn laughed. 'Maybe you're right. Some of the students were twice my
age. I think magic takes a long time to master. "

James said, 'If one ever does master it. " 'I heard Pug was a true
master, "said Owyn.

James yawned again. 'I've seen him do some pretty impressive things, "he
admitted through his yawn. 'Mercy, but this waiting is trying on the
nerves. "I 'Then get some sleep, "said Gorath. 'I'll watch. "

Owyn asked, 'Do you know Pug well?

We met a few times, "said James. Why? Didn't you meet him at

Stardock? " 'No, I saw him from time to time, with his family, but he
spends most of his time in his tower or off away from Stardock. Most of
the teaching is done by others. I met him only that one time in Krondor,
briefly, when his daughter was trying to read Gorath's mind! 'I've never
met the girl, though I hear she's a nice kid, "said James, as he thumbed
through the book. 'Her brother Willie's a good lad.

He's training to be an officer in Arutha's guard. " 'Hmmm, "said Owyn,
and James glanced over to see the young magician lost in his notes.

James looked through the book in his lap again for nearly a half hour.
'This is the most improbable collection of accounts and ... outright
fabrications I've ever encountered. "

Owyn looked up. What do you mean? " 'There's lists of births and deaths,
as if someone sat down one day and told this Abbot Cafrel the Cavell
family history in one sitting, then suddenly we're talking about missing
treasure, swords of incredible magic power, and curses. " 'Sounds
interesting, "said Gorath, who was trying to be polite.

James laughed. 'I agree,'he said, putting aside the book. 'You watch and
I'll sleep. Wake me in two hours. "

James curled up and Owyn studied, and Gorath watched the window, his
hand resting on his sword.

They came the next night. James had again been reading the Cavell family
history and Owyn was meditating on the bed, his eyes dosed as he was
developing a method of casting the spell Nago had used on him. Gorath
lay sleeping on the floor, having elected to sit the later watch.

One moment James was reading, and the next he was moving, his sword
coming out of his scabbard. Owyn was shot forward by two heavy bodies
hitting the other side of the door as the window shutters exploded
inward. An assassin had tied a rope to the roof beam and swung out, so
he could crash feet first through the wooden shutters into the room.

He caught James full in the chest and the squire flew backwards into
Gorath. Owyn came up on his knees, then fell back out of the way of a
sword blow, while behind him someone was trying to force the door open.

Owyn had been halfway through constructing the spell in his mind when
suddenly letters of fire seemed to burn in his mind's eye. He raised his
hand and pointed it at the assassin who was again raising his sword. An
evil purple-grey sphere, black veins of energy dancing across its
surface, leaped from his hand, striking the assassin in the face. The
man froze as if suddenly transformed into purple stone, blue sparkles of
energy dancing across the surface of his body. A faint moan of pain
escaped his lips.

James was up and ran to the window, thrusting his sword through it as
another man tried to swing in. The second Nighthawk was impaled on the
blade and fell into the stable yard below, striking the stones with a
sickening wet thud.

Gorath regained his footing and threw his weight against the door.

He shouted, 'Do we try to hold the door? "

James said, 'When I yell, jump back and pull that last bed with you. "

Owyn was staring at the entranced assassin in wide eyed wonder. 'It
workeff he whispered.

James struck the ensorcelled man as hard as he could across the back of
the head with the flat of his sword and he crumpled to the ground, the
energy around him vanishing. 'Can you do it again? g 'I don't know!"
'Then get out of the way! Gorath, now!"

Gorath did as he was told, and Owyn grabbed the bed and pulled it away
as well. The other two beds began to slide away from the door. 'If I
know my Nighthawks, "said James. 'I suggest you duck ... flow!"

Both men did so as James fell to the floor. The door burst open and two
crossbow bolts flew into the room and vanished out the window. James
instantly jumped atop the bed Gorath and Owyn had just moved. He bounced
off the bed and crashed into the two men closest to the door, sending
them through the railing of the stairs to the floor below. He slid over
the edge of the landing, barely avoiding a fall by grabbing a part of a
shattered post. His sword went clattering to the floor below, as an
astonished and shocked Peter the Grey entered the room from behind the
bar. 'N"at?

James looked up from where he hung to see a Nighthawk standing over him,
sword raised high. The assassin's eyes went round as Gorath ran him
through with his sword. The last Nighthawk tumbled over

James to the floor below, landing at Peter's feet. 'Oh, my word!"said
the innkeeper. 'My word!"

James hung by one hand and said, 'If it wouldn't be too much trouble
..."

Gorath's powerfid hand seized him by the wrist and hauled him up to the
landing. James said, 'Thank you, "and hurried down the stairs, rubbing
his sore shoulder. 'I'm getting too old for that sort of thing, "he
observed.

What is going on? asked Peter.

James knelt next to the last assassin and began searching the body.
'These men tried to kill us, "he answered calmly. We didn't let them. "

Well ..."said the innkeeper. Well ... I...'After a moment, he said,
Well, "one more time.

James said, 'Get somebody in here to clean up the mess, Peter.

Else your customers may be put off their meals. "

The innkeeper turned and hurried off to do as he was bid.

Instructions like that he understood. To Owyn, James said, 'You'd better
go get your uncle and explain to him that we've just removed most of the
Nighthawks who were stalking him. "

Owyn said, 'I think he might not even object too much to being awakened
in the middle of the night for that bit of news. "

After Owyn left, Gorath said, 'I noticed you said, "most of the

Nighthawks who were stalking him"."

James stood up, after having found nothing useful on the bodies.

We still have one Nighthawk to go, I think. At least one who matters. "
'The leader? " 'Yes. " 'And how do you propose to find him? " 'I don't,
"said James with a satisfied smile. 'He will find us. And I think it
will be this weekend when a certain chess player arrives to pay court to
Owyn's cousin. "

Gorath considered that, then nodded. 'He's a logical suspect, but how
will you prove it? Accuse him in public? " 'Unlike your people, where I
suspect an open challenge of honour carries some weight, this is a man
whose honour is non-existent. He is one who lurks in shadows and kills
from behind trees. He would only deny an accusation. " 'So then how do
you get him to confess? Torture?

James laughed. 'I've always considered torture to be of dubious benefit.
Fanatics will die with a lie on their lips, and an innocent man will
condemn himself to stop the pain. " 'I have found that torture, applied
judiciously, can yield interesting results. " 'No doubt, "said James,
with a look of mixed amusement and alarm.

Peter the Grey returned with his stable man and two workers, all of whom
lost their sleepy slowness when they saw the bodies. 'Take them out back
and burn the bodies, "instructed the innkeeper. As they complied, he
looked at the shattered balcony railing and asked, 'Who will pay for
this? "

James dug out a gold coin and said,'I will. If I find the man behind
this, I'll recover my gold from him. No need for you to bear the burden
of the cost. "

'Thank you, "said Peter, greatly relieved.

Owyn returned with his uncle behind him, dressed in his nightclothes
with a large cloak around his shoulders. He was still barefoot. 'You've
killed the Nighthawks? "he asked.

James said, 'I'm certain we've stamped out most of them in the area. "

Baron Corvallis was almost beside himself with glee. Then his mood
turned darker. 'Most? " 'There's some business I think needs to be
finished by Sixthday, then I think you'll be safe from the Guild of
Assassins, m'lord. "

Corvallis said, 'Owyn, you couldn't have awakened me for better cause.
"To James he said, 'I must pen a missive to Arutha, commending you to
him for your good works this day. " 'Thank you, sir, "said James, 'but
I'll be sending my own report to the Prince. " 'No false modesty, my
boy. "He put a fatherly hand on James's shoulder. 'You must take praise
where it comes. You might not be a squire all your life. Who knows, with
a friend in court, and with recommendations such as mine, why some day
you might rise to the rank of baronet or even baron!"

James grinned. 'One never knows. "

Well, then, "said the Baron, turning toward the door. To Peter he said,
'Provide these gentlemen with whatever they need. "To Owyn he said, 'I
can't tell you how pleased I am. I look forward to your company on
Sixthday. "

He hurried out, and Owyn asked, 'What now? "

James looked at the mess and said, 'I think some sleep is in order. "

He retrieved his sword from where it had landed, cleaned it off on the
tunic of the last dead Nighthawk, and as Peter the Grey returned to the
commons, said, 'Master Grey, there's another dead one up in our room.
Please remove it as well. " 'Oh, my word!"said the innkeeper.

'He's here, "said Owyn, hurrying into the room. Gorath and James had
been resting on their beds, trying to relax after the fiiry of the night
before.

James said, 'You're certain it's him? "

il

'Dandy, wearing fine clothing, and Ugyne is riding behind him with her
head on his shoulder, just to annoy her father! 'That's our man, "said
James. 'Let him find us already half drunk. "

They hurried downstairs to an empty commons, and found things ready as
James had requested. A chessboard had been set up and

James had positioned the men as he wanted. Several empty tankards had
been left nearby, and he signalled for Peter to bring over three
half-filled.

Owyn sat opposite James and said, 'I hope you don't expect me to comment
on this game. I have no idea what I'm looking at. " 'Good, "said James,
'because your part is to do nothing but look confused. "

Owyn's brow furrowed as he said, Well, I can do that with conviction. "

The door opened a short while later and Ugyne came in, almost skipping,
leading by the hand a person who could only be Navon du Sandau. He was
what James expected: tall, dressed in black with a white scarf around
his neck. He wore a neatly trimmed pointed beard, a golden earring with
a large diamond, and several golden chains which hung down his chest. He
walked easily, with his left hand upon his sword hilt. James noted that
while the hilt of the sword was decorative too, it was well worn, and
the blade was almost certainly sharp and well-oiled. It was a rapier,
and the only other man

James knew who preferred the rapier as a weapon of choice was the

Prince of Krondor. Light and agile, the rapier was a deadly weapon in
the hands of a master, but in the hands of a novice, it was an easy way
to get killed.

James had no doubt that Navon was a master. As Ugyne approached she
said, 'Owyn, I have someone I want you to meet. "

Owyn looked up and said, 'Good. You can save me from humiliation '

Ugyne introduced Owyn, James and Gorath, and said, 'This is my friend,
Navon du Sandau. "

James nodded, doing his best imitation of a man who had started drinking
early. He nodded slightly to Owyn who said, 'I think I should resign. "

With a smile, du Sandau said, 'Don't resign. Your position is difficult,
but not hopeless. "

Owyn looked at James who again nodded slightly and Owyn said, 'Would you
care to take over? I'm out of my depth. "

Navon said, 'If James doesn't mind?

James shrugged. 'By all means. It was simply a friendly game; no stakes.
"

Owyn stood up and stepped aside and Navon took his place. He studied the
board and said, 'My move?

James nodded. 'It's blacles move. "

Navon studied the board and moved exactly as James had expected.

James knew Navon was almost certainly a far better chess player than he
was, but he had positioned the pieces as they had been during a game
with the Keshian ambassador, Lord Abdur Rachman Memo

Hazara-Khan, only he had been in Navon's position then. The ambassador
had taken great pains to explain James's mistake to him after the match
and the game was etched in James's memory. Navon had moved exactly as
Lord Hazara-Khan had told James he should have moved in that long-ago
game.

Ugyne showed Owyn a silver locket with a tiny emerald in it. 'See what
Navon brought me?

Owyn nodded appreciatively and watched the match. Both men took great
pains to consider every option before they moved. After three moves
James was convinced that should this game run its course,

Navon would eventually win. Only by starting from a position of
dominance was he able to appear competent enough to keep Navon's
interest.

Gorath stood up, as if bored, and moved toward the door. 'I'll be back
shortly, "he said to no one in particular.

This was Owyn's cue, and he said, 'Oh, Ugyne, do you remember that odd
book on the family@' 'Which book? asked the girl. 'The one with all
those strange stories in it. You showed it to me

Nvhen we were little. It was written by some cleric. " 'Oh!"she said,
her eyes wide. 'You mean The Abbot's Journap Yes,

I do. It's funny, but I lent it to Navon here, a while ago, so he could
learn about the family. "

Owyn said,'Oh, I was hoping to read something in it I remembered from
when I was a boy. "

James studied his opponent. If he was paying attention to the

exchange behind him, he was a master of control. Not a twitch or flinch
or even the slightest urge to turn and look at Owyn was evident. He was
fixed upon the board before him.

Owyn asked, 'Navon, do you have the book with you? " 'What?'he asked,
looking over. 'Book? " 'The family journal, "said Ugyne. 'I lent it to
you a month ago. " 'Oh, that, "he said offhandedly. 'I left it at home.
I'll return it next week. "

James nodded slightly, and Owyn returned the nod. He went to his
backpack, which was on the floor behind Navon and withdrew the journal
from the pack. He put the book upon the table next to the board.

Suddenly Navon rose, overturning the table as he did so, knocking

James on his back. He threw an elbow at Owyn's chin, stunning the young
magician.

Ugyne shrieked in alarm, and said, 'Navon! What is it? "

The man grabbed her by the wrist and turned her arm behind her back. He
held her before him as he began backing toward the door. James came to
his feet with his sword drawn, and saw

Navon retreating. 'Stand back or I'll kill her, "he shouted, drawing his
sword.

Ugyne shouted, 'You bastard!"and stepped down as hard as she could on
his instep. While he hopped backward, she twisted away.

James reached out as quickly as possible and yanked the girl free,
sending her sprawling toward Owyn, who caught her.

Navon glanced backward and said, 'I suppose your elf friend is standing
outside the door. "He circled away from the door, putting his back to
the wall.

James advanced, sword at the ready. 'Put that down and we'll have a
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