Her hand lifted and light glowed along that which she held between her fingers, the wand. She put this with care on the flattened palm of her other hand. I saw, though she did not touch it, the rod stir of itself and turn to point in the same direction her eyes sought.
As if by a signal, the furred ones vanished into the gloom beyond the borders of the lamplight in which I lay. Now Maelen took up again the wand and pointed with it to the moon globe, which died into nothingness. She leaned closer over me, her weather cloak out in wide wings tenting us both.
“Quiet!” Her order was a mere puff of breath.
I found I was listening, straining to hear whatever her ears also sought. There was the sighing of the wind, the splashing of water not too far away, other sounds of the open—nothing more—save the rising pound of my own blood in my ears.
So we waited for a space I could not measure, save it seemed very long. Then once more she spoke, perhaps to me, perhaps only voicing her thought.
“So-they hunt.”
“Me?” I whispered.
“You.” I did not need confirmation of that.
“Listen now,” she continued swiftly. “There are more than just Osokun’s sword-sworn—these come from before and behind. And—” she hesitated, “I do not see how we can get through the net they weave for our taking.”
“It is not your trouble—”
Her finger tips pressed upon my Ups, cool and strong. “Mine the debt, man of the star lanes, mine the payment, so say the scales of Molaster—the scales of Molaster,” she repeated. Then after a pause, she whispered again, “should I give you another skin, Krip Vorlund, for the undoing of the enemy?”
“What do you mean?” It seemed to me, although the cloak about us cast a dark pool of shadow, I could see her two eyes a little above me as sparks of frosty light, much as a beast’s eyes will shine in the night if caught by a torch’s ray.
“To my mind has come the answer of Molaster.” She sounded bewildered, the confidence I had always seen in her shaken. “But you are not Thassa—not Thassa—” Her voice trailed away into a moment of silence. Then she spoke with her old assurance. “So be it, if you choose, so be it! Hark well now, off-worlder. I do not think we have a chance to elude those who search these hills. By their thought-throws I read they would have your death and that speedily if they come upon you.”
“That I can believe,” I told her dryly. “Have you time to get away? I may not be a trained swordsman but-”
I think she found that amusing, the sound she gave might have been a tiny laugh. “Brave, oh, brave star rover! But we have not come to such straits yet. There is another path, though a very strange one, and you may think being cut down by the blades of Osokun’s men better than the walking of it.”
Perhaps I read challenge into what was only warning but I reacted stubbornly to her words. “Show me this path, if you think it means escape.”
“There is this, you may change bodies—”
“What!” I struggled to sit up, pushed her so that we both overbalanced and struck the ground.
“I am not the enemy!” Her hands thrust against my chest, punishing old bruises and making me wince. “Another body is what I said, and what I meant, Krip Vorlund.”
“And this body I now wear?” I could not believe that she was serious.
“Let Osokun’s men take it and welcome.”
“Thank you!” I retorted. “Either I lose my life in my body, or they kill my body and leave me outside somewhere.” The utter folly of what I said made me laugh a little hysterically.
“No!” Maelen retorted. She had pulled her cloak away and we sat facing each other in the twilight. I could see her face, but it was hard to read her expression, though I believed she was in earnest and meant exactly what she said.
“They will not harm your body, once you have gone from it. They will believe you under the cloak of Umphra.”
“So they would let my body go?” I decided to humor her. My mind was in an odd state, nothing about this adventure had any reality by the standards I knew. I began to think it was one of those vivid dreams which now and then visit a sleeper, plunging him into an inner state of awareness so that he believes he is awake, not sleeping, as he undertakes impossible feats. It was beginning to seem, in this real dream, that perhaps all things were possible.
“Your body would not be tenantless, for two spirits will pass from one housing to another. For a space only need this be, as we can then retake your body and once more exchange.”
“Because they would leave it here?” I continued, willing to go along with the fantasy.
“No, they would take it to the Temple of Umphra. And we would have to follow, even to the Valley of the Forgotten.” Her head turned away and I had a feeling that what she said had some meaning for her which had nothing to do with me.
“And where would I be while we went hunting my body?”
“In another body, perhaps even better fashioned for what might have to be done.”
This was a dream, of course. I no longer questioned that it might be anything else. Perhaps it was all a dream—my escape from the fort which had been so oddly favored by fortune, the nightmare journey through the hills and the storm, my coming here. Perhaps the dream extended even further—I had never been kidnaped from the fair, I lay safely now in my ship bunk and dreamed all this. And an odd curiosity awoke in me. I wanted to know how far this dream would take me and what new and weird action would come next.
“Let it be as you wish,” I said, and I laughed, for I knew that neither this, nor the waking hours of mv life were real.
She looked at me again. Once more I fancied I saw those sparks in her eyes.
“Truly you come of a strong race, star rover. Perhaps. though, seeing much along the space lanes leaves one with a loss of astonishment and a capacity for accepting what may or must come. But it is not because I wish it so, this must he your desire.”
“Then it is.” I humored her in my dream.
“Stay you here and rest.” Her hands on my shoulders pushed me back to lie as I had when first aroused to this part of mv dream. I lay there wondering what would come next. Would I be waking in mv bunk on the Lydis? One’s dreams are boring to listeners, but this was so strange a one that if I could remember it once I roused I would tell it. Still I rested on the grass and saw sky above, smelled woodland scents and heard wind and the splash of water.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to wake. But it was an art beyond me, for the dream continued as vividly as ever. Something stirred beside me, I turned my head and opened my eyes. There was a furred head there, eyes peering at me intently. The fur was dark save for a crest of gray which stood erect, giving the animal the appearance of wearing a helm of dark metal surmounted by a standing plume, not unlike those of the sea rovers of Rankini.
Sea rovers of Rankini . . . my mind strayed, floated . . . but surely they had not been part of a dream, this or any other. I had stood with Lidj on one of their floating trade rafts and exchanged steel harpoon points for Aadaa peris. Rankini, Tyr, Gorth-worlds I had known. I strung them from memory as one would slip beads along a string. Now they were spinning around those worlds . . . whirling . . . whirling. . . . No, I was whirling dizzily, memory fled, and close after it all awareness.
“Avee, Ayee—run on four feet.
Scent well the wind’s messages-
Be wise and be fleet-
Strong and fair.
Arise and greet the moon.
By Molaster, and the Law of Qu’eeth,
By two power, into four power.
Up, runner of the high places!
Greet the sun after night,
For this be the dawn of your birthing!”
I opened my eyes. Then I screamed, for the world I looked upon was distorted, a matter of odd shapes, shades—so altered that terror walked there for me. But no scream did my ears record, rather a howl with naked fear in it.
“Fear not, the change is good, good! I had hoped only, but it is good! In all parts did you travel and arrive.”