"Sorry, nobody here right now. Leave message after beep."
Groork called frantically with his inner voice, but still the Lumians didn't answer. The leader of the group that had trailed him from the marketplace and accosted him in a narrow alley on the edge of the Thieves' Quarter, an ugly-faced rob in a shabby cloak of rusted platelets, pushed him back against the wall while the others closed around him.
"Wot we want to know, Mr. Inquisitive, is why yer goes pokin' yer nose into other folks' business, arstin' peculiar question abaht 'is Majesty an' the priests all the time."
"Sounds like a spy for somebody," another voice said from behind.
"Spy. He's a spy," others repeated.
"Yes, look at them clothes," a woman shouted, pointing. "Not from around here, he's not."
"There are many from other parts come into the city of late," Groork protested desperately.
The large rob in the rusted cloak moved a step nearer and fingered the clasp of the bag hanging from Groork's shoulder. He smiled evilly, and his voice took on a deceptively soft note. "Oh, yes, there's many in Pergassos from all over, on all kinds o' business, true enough. But I'd say that this little item 'ere looks like a piece of Carthogian workmanship."
"Didj'ear that? 'E's a Carthogian!"
"A spy for Kleippur!"
The rob went on. "And right now Carthogia isn't a very popular word arahnd 'ere. In fact, a lot o' people are sayin' that it's Carthogia and their Lumian friends who are behind all these troubles we've got everywhere." He pulled out a carbide-tipped stiletto and pressed the point against the slide joints below Groork's chin. "Now, you wouldn't 'appen to 'ave any Lumian friends, would yer?" he whispered menacingly into Groork's face.
"Go on, stick 'im! Don't muck abaht!" someone called out.
Groork's thermal patterns fluctuated wildly. He shook his head. "Me? No. I've never seen a Lumian. I found the bag washed up by the river."
"Oh, fahnd it, did yer? Well, let's just 'ave a look inside, out of curiosity."
Just then another voice rang out. "That's enough of that. Leave him be. We'll take care of it now." The crowd turned to find three figures approaching from the end of the alley. Although dressed in rough farmer's garb, the speaker was striding forward confidently. Another, similarly clad, was close behind him. The third, lean in build and looking as if he hailed from the town, followed more warily a short distance back.
The mob around Groork parted to make way. Rusted Cloak stood his ground but wavered. " 'Oo are you?" he demanded uncertainly.
"Officers of the state. This person is an enemy who has been under observation for some time. We are taking him in officially. Unhand him."
Groork could only stare speechlessly, which was probably just as well. The speaker was none other than his lost brother, Thirg, who had disappeared into Kroaxia some ten brights earlier.
Rusted Cloak was not overly impressed. "Officers of the state, eh? Well, I don't see that there's much to choose between this state that your Nogarech 'as landed us wiv and Carthogia. A pox of oxidation on both, I sez. We wants no officers of Nogarech 'ere. On yer way. We'll take care o' this un an' make proper sure 'e gets wot's comin' to 'im."
Groork despaired, convinced that all was over for him. But Thirg moved a step closer to the rob in the cloak and nudged him meaningfully with an elbow. "Not Nogarech," he muttered. "Have you not heard that Eskenderom and Frennelech are secretly returned to the city? We come as servants of the realm that shall soon be restored."
"Thou art their agents?"
Thirg nodded. "And our mission is crucial. Now hand over the Carthogian spy. Thy work will be generously remembered."
The rob bowed, making a supplicatory gesture. "Please, sirs, it is our honor. No payment is necessary. Our pleasure is to serve the king and the holiness."
The crowd moved aside, awed. "May the Lifemaker preserve 'em," somebody intoned.
Groork looked from one rescuer to the other in bewilderment as they hustled him away between them. His brother, gone for ten brights, now a disguised agent for Eskenderom? It made no sense.
"Thirg, I don't understand. What"
"Shut up, you fool," Thirg hissed, keeping a tight grasp on his arm, while Brongyd steered the other and Elmon hurried ahead of them, anxious to get away. "You don't know me. Just walk."
It all went fine until they got to the end of the alley. But as they came out onto the square, a carriage that had been approaching at a fast pace lurched to a halt in front of them. Robs muffled in dark cloaks with hoods or wide hats enveloping their faces leapt out, producing swords and daggers, and surrounded them. Another who was with them pointed to Groork. "That's the one. He's the heretic who came back, calling himself Enlightener."
" 'E is!" one of the mob exclaimed as they came up behind. "The Enlightener. I knew I'd seen that face!" Groork was seized and bundled toward the open door of the carriage.
"Then 'oo be you gents?" Rusted Cloak demanded, stepping forward to reassert himself after his lapse. Conscious, however, that the newcomers obviously meant business and weren't likely to be interested in his opinions, he added deferentially, "If I might be so bold."
The one who appeared to be in charge looked at him for a second as if deliberating whether to bother replying or run him through. Then he reached inside his cloak and produced a badge of office bearing the archprelate's seal. "There's no harm in your knowing," he murmured. "The High Holiness will be back in his palace by the next bright."
Rusted Cloak frowned and pointed a puzzled finger at Thirg. "But 'e said that 'e was workin' for Frennelech. They just took that Enlightener away from us. So wot's a-goin' on arahnd 'ere, then, eh?"
The one in charge of the high priest's henchmen looked at Thirg and Brongyd. He had no intention of conducting a public interrogation in the market square before a pack of imbeciles. "Seize both of them," he ordered.
Rusted Cloak looked from side to side. "There was three of 'em," he said. But Elmon had prudently vanished.
Bystanders were starting to approach curiously from around the square. "Make haste with these two. Never mind the other," the leader told his robs impatiently.
Minutes later the carriage clattered into the courtyard at the rear of the friary adjoining the former Palace of the High Holy One, and the heavy steel gates swung shut behind it.
Thirg and Brongyd were taken straight up to a room where Eskenderom and Frennelech were waiting with several of their aides. So the rumors of their being back in the city were true. Evidently the move to overthrow Nogarech was not far off.
After establishing who Thirg and Brongyd were and questioning them on their reasons for being in Pergassos, the chief counselor, Mormorel, asked them the true intentions of the Lumians. "I would not advise attempts at deviousness," he warned. "We have artisans well skilled in methods of persuasion."
"If your wish is but to hear that which you have already decided, then it would be a simpler matter to merely advise me of it, and I will gladly comply," Thirg replied. "It cannot affect the truth for which you have no ear."
"Of course we want the truth," Mormorel retorted impatiently.
Thirg nodded his head toward the high priest and the king. "The truth is that I shall remain free however heavily you weigh this body with irons and chains, while both these eminences stand captives of their own delusions," he told Mormorel. "For whatever words this mouth may be induced to say, who can force me to believe that which I choose not to? No person can. Their treasures, lying buried and useless in guarded vaults, produce only anguish for fear of their loss. But can anyone steal the knowledge that is wealth to me, that I share openly with any yet am not a jot the poorer for parting with? It is impossible.
"There are those Lumians who, like thee, measure their worth by their possessions and can prosper only by the coerced labor of others. And there are Lumians like I, who would see all of Robia follow Carthogia into freedom. And there the matter rests. The former seek only the expedience of Kroaxia's tyranny reinstated; the private jealousies of robeings are of no concern to them. They contrive no plot with king or priest, for what care they which Lifemaker's servant shall trample his brother? Whereas the latter would exalt or persecute neither one nor the other, any the more or the less than they would any other robeing. Now call thy inquisitors if thou wilt. There is nothing more that can be added."
Eskenderom was radiating purple. "What manner of impudence impels such to speak thus of a monarch! To the acid vats with them!" he raged.
But a thoughtful gleam had come into Frennelech's imagers. He raised a cautioning hand. "Perhaps a little less haste," he suggested. "Methinks the Lifemaker has consigned these three into our hands for a purpose. Behold, we have the Enlightener who was harbinger of our previous misfortune; his brother, who from Carthogia has contributed to our tribulations since; and, to boot, another of these accursed inquirers who subverts even within the borders of thy realm. Surely it is a sign that the time has come. We will have our vengeance, yes. But not confined in private dungeons. Let it be a public spectacle that will unite Kroaxia and mark the moment that begins the triumph of our reascendance!"
Mormorel took up the theme. "Yes! A sign to the nation that the Lifemaker has delivered to thee thine enemies. Consign them to the reduction furnaces. Then shall the people see the Enlightener's false faith perish in the same ignominy as their Enlightener."
Eskenderom looked at them, remembering the chaos that the last attempt to execute the Enlightener had precipitated. "Do it now, then, and let's get rid of them without delay," he ordered. "Before any miracle workers from the sky can intervene this time."
Thirg stood straight, bracing himself steadfastly. Brongyd, standing beside him, was doing his best not to rattle audibly. Groork's knees were almost buckling. There was only one hope now. He sent out once again the signal to alert the listening Lumian ears. And received once again:
"SORRY, NOBODY HERE RIGHT NOW . . ."