Now! They were coming this way. He stood statue straight in the shadow of the pillar and watched the guards and the prisoners pass. Then he took a chance and flitted in their wake. After all, would any of these
around suspect him? They would watch for a break from those they guarded, not for outside help for their captives in the heart of Chronos’s own palace.
Up the stairs-yes-this way led to the wing of the palace wherein lay his own chamber. He climbed swiftly, reached that room, and crouched behind a partly open door, a vantage point from which he could watch the party now at the far end of the corridor. There-they were putting the prisoners inside-posting a sentry
Ray snatched up the cover from his couch and waited for the tramp of returning feet. Then he slipped out from his own door to the recess that held the next. From his belt pouch he took two of the square metal coins they had supplied him with and tossed them along the floor. They struck the stone with a jangle that sounded very loud indeed, and the sentry moved forward to look at them.
The American sprang and struck with the edge of his hand-at a point where neither helm nor armor protected the sentry’s throat. He caught the Atlantean before he fell and lowered him to the floor with a minimum of sound. Around the inert body went the covering, and then he dragged the bundle back to his own room and bolted the unconscious man within.
He sped back to the door the sentry had guarded and sprang its outer bolt. The Murian spokesman from the audience chamber stared across a narrow room at him.
“What do you-who are-you-?”
“Come!” Ray was busy with their chains, using the key pulled from the sentry’s belt. But the spokesman jerked away from him.
“False hope-a new torture. Do not yield, comrades-”
“I am freeing you-” Ray was exasperated. They must be quick; this was no time for arguments.
“Who are you?”
“One from Mu.”
“Which is easy to say but not easy to prove.” .
“Will you chance trust in me? Or do you want to ,
await the pleasures of Magos?” Ray demanded. “Time waits for no second thoughts here-” > “He is right,” cut in and of the others. “At least with free hands and out of this room, we can make sure that they retake only dead men. Which is a good enough hope for me!”
“And our only one. Even if we reach the harbor, there is no ship. And to strike inland is greater folly-”
Ray thought of Taut. Such a thin hope, but all he had. “There may even be a ship. But come!”
They were out in the corridor. The Murian leader stooped and caught up the sword the sentry had dropped.
“Do any of you know the inner ways of this place?” asked Ray. “I came here only this day-”
One stepped forward. “I was sent here before, but Magos did not use me.” He could not control the shudder that shook his skeleton body. “I can take us as far as the outer gate.”
“Then let us go!”
But they went at a crawling pace, listening, scouting. Their guide did not descend the stair Ray had used earlier but led them into a side hall and then down a narrower flight, halting suddenly before a door.
“The watch room of the guard that serves Magos,” he whispered. “Within-perhaps arms-”
Ray pushed past the Murians. In appearance he was one of the palace guard and so might pass unchallenged. He opened the door. Three men within looked up in surprise.
“You!” Ray tried to get the rasp of an order into leis voice. “Up with you! The Murian prisoners have escaped!”
Two of the guards gaped at him. The third was on his feet.
“How?”
Ray was impatient. “How should I know? The order is to go out and hunt them down.”
But the ready guard was eying him narrowly. “There has been no alarm gong-”
“No time to sound it yet. And-should we warn them into faster flight? Come-”
The two who had raised no question obediently headed
for the door; the other turned and reached for a small stick lying beside a gong. But Ray struck first, sharp and true, as he had in the upper hall. He did not watch his victim go down but whirled and kicked out at the nearest man, knocking him off balance to the floor, at the same time catching a glimpse of the Murian with the sword using that weapon on the guard who had reached the doorway. A second or so later the Murians were in the chamber, starting to strip the guards of their armor and weapons. There was other body armor stacked there, perhaps belonging to men off watch, and more than half of the former prisoners were soon wearing Atlantean uniforms.
When they were ready, Ray spoke. “Now, we must play a part. I am the dator in command of this cohort. We are going to deliver slaves to a ship of the fleet in the harbor. But there we have also another mission, to arrest Captain Taut of a North Sea raider, who is suspected of treason. So, as we march hence, you”-he nodded to those for whom there was no armor-“are prisoners. Do you stand ready to try this?”
“Lord, we do!” There was a fierce determination in that answer that promised ill for any who dared question them this night. Ray jerked the alarm gong from its stand and took it with him. The two unconscious guards were tied, thrust back under a table, and the dead man wedged behind the door where he could not easily be seen.
They formed up in the hall. Ray was amazed. These men did not resemble Chronos’s warriors; suddenly they were those warriors! They had coiled their long hair under the helms, their rags were now uniforms, and in the half light their features could not be clearly distinguished. They moved as drilled troops.
With renewed confidence he gave the order to march. Between them wavered four prisoners, their arms apparently bound behind them. The party came into the courtyard and there, for the first time, saw sentries. Be confident, or at least have the appearance of it, Ray counseled himself. “Who goes?” demanded the gate guard as Ray marched the squad to that portal. This was not the main entrance to the palace but a lesser one his Murian guide had suggested.
“The Dator Sydyk, on the word of the Poseidon,” replied Ray. His mouth was so dry that it was hard to get those words out, and they sounded low and harsh-so perhaps natural to the Atlanteans, though he half thought the pounding of his heart could be heard as well.
“That being-?”
“Business in the harbor. Do I shout my orders to the wind?” He permitted himself a small blaze of anger, almost sure that fortune had favored them as far as she would-that they might end here in a fight. But the man waved them through.
They tramped along briskly. Ray wanted to break into a run. He expected any moment to hear a shout or a gong beat from behind. The gong he had brought from the guard room under his cloak he thrust into a bush just outside the gate.
These were the city streets, and the night was so far advanced that they were empty. But before them still were the five walls and the three canals to cross. To expect their amazing luck to hold was sheer folly, and he said as much to the Murians.
“There is this,” their leader commented. “They expect ill to come from without, not from within, and unless there is an alarm from the palace-Ah, well”-he shrugged-“we can but do the best we can.”
On they marched, past the ruined temple of the Flame into the lower streets, coming finally to the first of the wall gates. Ray advanced to the sentries there.
“Who goes?”
With every sense alert, he was sure they did not seem too surprised to see the squad.
“Dator Sydyk, on orders of the Poseidon.”
“And your purpose, Dator?” Still no sign of alarm, no sign that this was not routine as far as the guards were concerned.
“To deliver oar slaves to the harbor. Also to arrest a raider captain-” He used his bluff, poor as it now seemed to him.
“You have a tablet of authority, Dator?”
Now-this was it! Ray took a step closer. “Just so, Dator. Would you look upon it? Here-” He stepped forward as if to seek the light beneath the gate and held out his hand. The officer came to meet him. Ray’s other hand chopped, and he caught the slumping man against him, swinging his body around. The long dagger from his belt was now set across the bare throat of the Atlantean.