I put aside the rod and leaned over. What had been a flicker of life now held steady. I was too tired to give thanks, save wordlessly, but now I knew that this lost one would live. And with returning life must surely come acceptance of what I had to offer.
We paused beside the turn into the main road to Yim-Sin. I loosed those of my little people who wished to be free and tended the rest. Borba came to me with a message that brought me into the road.
My nose could not pick up the story written there for most of my company. But there was no hiding from the eye that a large mounted party had passed this way. And, while I cannot use my nose to advantage, I can pick other subtleties from the air. Peril and anger had ridden this way and not long before us. To go on would be to face danger.
Yet I had no choice. What did these others hunt ahead? All men knew that this road led only to the Valley, and that was a place to be shunned, save for those whom fate had sent. I could not believe any raiders would voluntarily take this way.
There was only one reason, which hinted at such recklessness and disregard for custom as to suggest madness among the men who chose it. The Valley had two entrances: one from the west, which was the road where we now stood, another from the east, where a trail came through Oskold’s land. Had some one of his enemies, moved by insane hatred, decided to lead his men into the Valley and hence again down that other road, striking so into the heart of Oskold’s territory?
For a leader so to outrage custom was almost unbelieveable. Yet in time of war madness, much is done which afterward wondering men look back upon, unable to believe that such was so. Men driven by an unbridled desire to triumph over their enemies are released into a kind of callosity to do whatever they are moved by happenstance along the way.
I thought of the peace of Umphra and those who had guarded it for years upon untold years, and how they would not believe anyone would trouble them. They would be as insects under the sole of some unheeding giant’s boot.
But what I suspected might not be so. And I had no other road. So I tended my company, and we rested until moonrise. This night I needed the moon, it was a draft to lift my spirit, to provide me with energy.
It came, unveiled by any clouds. But the moon was not too bright to hide the splotch of fire above. I looked at that, my lower lip caught between my teeth. For I believed it spurted forth at Yim-Sin. And such red flowering comes only from the plant of war. That which I feared must surely be!
I put the kasi back into harness and took to the road, On its smooth surface we made better time. Time for what? To run into the red ruin of the sacking of Yim-Sin by crazed men? I had my own kind of weapons, but they were not for such battles.
To turn aside from this road would shortly be easy enough. There was a certain point ahead from which I could reach the high country and safety. If all Yiktor had gone mad—then it would be well for those still sane to gather together and keep in safety, letting the rest destroy themselves.
Behind me I heard what my ears had been waiting to report—a sound of feeble movement on the mats. I looked down. His eyes were open, but as yet no sign of intelligence sparked within them. A small new fear pricked me-had Jorth indeed won and the man beep-done to nothingness? This had sometimes occurred, though it was rare, when a man could not withstand the stress of beast nature.
I used mind-call. “Krip Vorlund!”
I made that as sharp as a summons to arms, with all the skill of such communication that I possessed.
Still those eyes were dull, naught dwelt within them. It was almost as if I now looked at the barsk I had taken from Othelm, an animal so deeply sunk in misery that it had withdrawn from life.
“Krip Vorlund!” Once more I forced that summons into his mind.
His head moved, as if he were trying to avoid some blow. Truly he had retreated, his mind now almost as far from me as his vital force had earlier been.
“Krip Vorlund!” I raised the rod, caught the moonlight on its length, guided that down to strike upon the head of the barsk.
Out of him came a cry of pain and terror, a wailing such as I had never heard from any animal. And my little people answered him in their own ways. He was trying to pull himself up. But I put my hand on his shoulders, being careful not to touch near his wound, and with the weight of that kept him lying flat.
“You are Krip Vorlund.” I made of each of those words a crossbow bolt, shooting them into his mind, setting them so firmly they could not be dislodged. “You are a man—a man!”
He was looking at me now, with a beast’s eyes right enough, but there was a difference in them. He did not try to answer; left alone he would retreat again. I could not allow that, for I might not be able to draw him into life a second time.
“A man,” I repeated. “And while a man lives, lives also the future. I swear to you—” I put the blazing rod between us and saw his gaze go from me to it and then back again, “I swear to you by the power which rests in this-and for me that is an oath binding past either life or death—that all is not yet lost!”
Was he alert enough to accept those words, understand them, and, understanding them, would he believe?
I could do no more in this time and place, the remainder rested solely with him. And what did I know of what moved this off-worlder and would set him on this road or that?
For a long, long moment I feared I had lost, that he understood but rejected belief.
“What remains—?”
His mind-speech was very faint; I could hardly catch it.
“Everything!” I hastened to hold, strengthen our contact.
“And what is everything?”
“For a space a new body—a man’s body. So housed you can make your way unchallenged into Yrjar. Then you can either follow your ship into space or find a way to summon it back for you.” Would he accept this?
“What body?”
This much encouraged me, his mind-touch was growing stronger. He was no longer rejecting contact with me as he had at first.
“One awaiting us—”
“Where?”
“In the hills.” I hoped that I spoke the truth. I must believe that I spoke the truth or all was lost. He stared into my eyes.
“I think—you mean-this-” Again his contact weakened, but not this time by will; rather his body was failing him.
“I do. But you are sore hurt, you must sleep.”
More than by my reasurance, I thought he was then ruled by weakness, the need for putting aside any decision or immediate action. He rested his head once more on the mat and closed his eyes as the van trundled on. He slept.
But for me there was no sleep. I could not take into danger with me those other small lives this far linked to mine. Once I had used them, or rather accepted their assistance. Those left must be made safe. I would not look upon another Simmle. When we reached the turn-off into high country, we would come to a parting of the ways. I could set a pattern in kasi minds which would keep them moving at their own speed for a day or two. Then-well-if no Thassa picked up the distress signal I would also loose, they could take to the wilds and a measure of safety. It was the best I could do for them now.
All followed as I had planned. I remained in the light van and sent the other two off by a pattern I impressed on the draft kasi. That would fade in a matter of hours, but the other small device I had triggered would keep them wandering in the general direction of the high country and would alert any Thassa to their aid. They were in their cages, but those were not latched and I left food and drink available.
I watched the vans out of sight and then I returned to my own seat. Jorth still lay in deep sleep. The two kasi pulling us were the best of our company, suited to hard going. I looked up at that fire glow. It was dimmer and there was light in the east. We would move on into the dawn of another day, into what peril, I did not try to guess.