“Think, keep thinking!” An imperative order. “I must have a guide, so think!”
“Man—no animal—” But I could not hold, the line was slipping from me fast. Making a supreme effort, I tried again. “Man—not barsk—in a box—in— I not know where—but in a city.”
Yrjar? Was that city Yrjar?
“In a box—as a barsk—a barsk— Not barsk-man!”
It seemed that I could not breathe, that the dark of space enfolded me too tightly, crushed me—
“Man—I am a man—” I clung to that, fighting hard. But the dark was here and in it I spun away to nothingness.
“Here!”
Through the dark again came that thrust of answer, swift and sharp to stir me. But I could not listen, there was nothing left but dark and an end of all struggle.
Light, far off, and voices which meant nothing. Then my head between two hands, raised. Dimly I could see a face.
“Listen,” the order ringing in my brain. “You must help me in this much. I have said you are one of my little people, that you are a trained beast. Can you prove it?”
Prove it? I could prove nothing, not even that I was a man, not one who ran four-footed and killed with fangs in the dark.
Water poured across my swollen tongue, into my jaws, three times before I could swallow. Then again those hands cupping my head, the eyes meeting mine, reaching into me.
“Jorth—obey!”
That had once meant something, but I could not remember. Someone had called me by that name and—
I bowed my head, tried to raise my forepaws. There were broad steps and a man in a black-and-yellow robe who had once watched me. So, I must bow, and do all we had planned together. We? Who?
“My animal—”
“There is no proof, Freesh.”
“I return what you paid for him. Or do I call the street guard?”
Still those hands holding up my head. And once more water in my mouth, so I could swallow. With it came a measure of life. But the hands grasping me did not loosen.
“Be strong, we shall go soon.”
Voices above my head washing back and forth. Then arms about me, carrying me out into greater light, where I whined and closed my eyes against the glare. He who bore me laid me down on a soft mat and I sprawled there, unable to help myself. Under me the surface shook, moved, I heard the creaking of wheels, their grating over stone pavement.
On went the wagon, and the odors of the town stuffed my nose. I did not try to look about me, to expend that much energy was beyond my strength. Rattle, grate, rattle— The cart came to a stop.
“—trained animal—”
Plop of a footboard being pulled down and put up again. The cart moved on. Fresher air, a breeze. Another stop, and someone dropped from the driver’s seat to the bed of the wagon, knelt beside me. My head was raised and once more liquid poured between my jaws. But this was not only water, it carried a stinging addition. I opened my eyes.
“Maelen—” I thought that name. But this was not the Thassa woman who had plunged me into this desperate venture, but the man who had been with her at the fair. Memory returned like a faint picture much faded by exposure and the overlay of harsh events.
“I am Malec,” came his answer. “Now rest, sleep, and have no fears. We have won a space of free time.”
The meaning of his words did not wholly register with me as I did as he bade and slept—though this was not the stupor of approaching death.
There was a fire not too far from me when I awoke once more. And the leaping flames of that were very reassuring. Fire and man, his old comfort and weapon, so long linked in our minds with safety that our spirits lift ever when we look into it.
Beyond the fire was another light, and seeing that I growled—and was startled to hear that sound. For I had momentarily been Krip Vorlund when I roused, and it was a shock to find I still wore the guise of Jorth.
My growl was answered from the shadows, where the full light of the fire, the beams of the moon globe did not reach. And my barsk nose, once more keenly in action, told me there were other life forms, many of them, around me in the half gloom.
A man came into the firelight, a kettle in one hand, a long-handled ladle in the other. I watched him pass along a line of bowls set out on the ground, into each measuring a portion of the kettle’s contents. And so he came to me.
“Malec of the Thassa,” I said mind-fashion.
“Krip Vorlund, from off-world.”
“You know me?”
He smiled. “There is only one man who runs as a barsk.”
“But-?”
“But you put on fur when I was not present? You have used Thassa power, my friend. Did you think that such would not be known?”
“I did not use it!” I countered.
“Not in that way of thinking,” he agreed readily. “But it was used for your advantage.”
“Was it?” I demanded.
“Was it not? Do you think you would have lived past your discovery by the sword-sworn of Oskold had Maelen not wrought for you as best she could-tiirif allowing?”
“But the rest—”
He sat down upon his heels, so that now, I, up on my haunches, was a small bit taller. “You believe that she used you for her own purposes?”
I gave him the truth. “Yes.”
“All races have that which they swear unbreakable oaths upon. So can I swear to you that what she did that night, she did wholly for you, the saving of your life.”
“That night, perhaps, but thereafter? We went to the Valley—my body was not there, but she had another—
He did not appear surprised. I do not believe I ever saw one of the Thassa show that emotion as men of other races do. But there was a moment of silence between us, before he continued:
“What do you believe?”
“That there were dangers beyond what she told me. That she had her own reason for wishing me in the Valley and that was not to my good, but hers.”
Slowly he shook his head. “Listen well, off-worlder, she did not send you into any danger she had not already tasted. And had you not gone your own road, you would not have been in such a plight as I found you. No Singer among the Thassa takes on the calling of power until he or she has worn, for a space, the guise of fur or feathers. Maelen had taken this way before your star ship ever rocket-blasted the port apron of Yrjar.”
“And that one in the Valley?”
“Did I ever say it is not a dangerous road to walk?” he demanded. “We do not slay the living things in the ranges, but that does not mean death holds aloof there. Maquad took upon him beast form, and a plains lord who went hunting without our leave shot a fatal bolt. It was one chance in ten thousand, for we did not know any walked our holy ground and we were not warned until too late. As for you, do you not think that Maelen will pay for her use of our power to aid a stranger? She believed truly what she told you, that Oskold’s men would deliver your body to the temple and that all would be well. Had you remained there—”
“But my body is in Yrjar.”
“Yes. And now we must make new plans, and I will not deny to you that they must be made in haste. Your friends will not understand and in their ignorance may try cures which will instead kill.”
I shivered as along my spine sped a cold chill. “Yrjar —we must go—”
“Not so. We have just come from Yrjar. I was able to bring you forth from the city only by saying that I would take you beyond any inhabited place. Maelen knows, or will know shortly, where you are. She will come hither, and then go to your captain, tell her story—we shall see if he is a man who will believe strange tales. Then we must plan to smuggle you into the port so Maelen can undo what has been done. And of this whole business”—he was frowning now—”I do not know what the Old Ones will think, for it has broken Standing Words, and put into the hands of those who do not share Thassa blood a secret weapon, should enemies desire such.”
“You mean that the plainsmen do not know you can so change bodies?”
“Yes. Think you—they are men who do not have knowledge of the spirit, only of body and mind. Tell the ignorant among them that there are those living on this world who can make a man into an animal, an animal into a man, and then—do you foresee what could happen?”