“You-” he began to the other sentries.
“Now!” He heard a soft call from the Murian commander. Men from the squad rushed the remaining guards. And those were swept away, with only one choked cry, quickly smothered, to mark the change of guard. The Murian gave an order, and the fallen men were dragged out of sight. He came back to Ray.
“You have a use for this one?”
“He is perhaps our key out.”
The Murian pushed back the captive’s lolling head. “He is senseless-”
“But can be roused again,” Ray answered. “But let us get on-
“
They passed through, closing the gate and wedging it so behind them. Ray slapped the face of his prisoner, and one of the Murians came from the small guard room in the wall to splash water onto the Atlantean. He gasped, and his eyes opened, widened. Ray clapped his hand over the mouth that had also begun to open. Again his dagger pricked the other’s throat.
“You will march,” he said slowly, intent upon making the other understand every word, “and you will do as we say. Thus you will live. Do otherwise-and it will not matter to you what happens to us, for you shall not see it. Understand?”
The man’s head moved in a jerky nod.
“Now.” Ray dropped his gagging hand and swung the Atlantean around, so they stood arm in arm, but behind the prisoner the Murian leader moved up, his dagger to the other’s back.
“We march,” Ray ordered.
March they did to the second gate, and on the way Ray spoke in a half whisper, giving orders to their captive. Whether he could or would obey, that they must wait to see. But that the Atlantean was assured that he dealt with men who intended to carry out their threats, Ray did not doubt.
“Who goes?” It was the challenge of the second gate.
The prisoner cleared his throat and then answered.
“Dator Vu-Han. It is orders-pass this dator and his squad to the harbor.”
For a moment there was silence, and Ray heard a tiny gasp from Vu-Han and felt his small movement as if the Murian-held dagger had pricked the deeper. .
If the sentry had doubts, he did not voice them. Perhaps Vu-Han would be a key even as they hoped. But as they marched through the second gate, Ray knew that he would not breathe really free again until they reached the docks.
The third gate, the first bridge, always the Murians marching in order, Vu-Han playing the part they had set him. Fourth gate, another bridge. Too good, going too good. Something inside Ray hammered a warning. Who could expect to get away with this?
Last bridge-and beyond-the last gate. Still no alarm, free passage under Vu-Han’s guidance. But it was well they had not come to depend too much upon fortune, for the Atlantean, in mid-point of that narrow way above the murky canal, suddenly swung his weight against Ray, at the same time crying out. The American had only an instant of warning, and that only because they were so close he had felt the tensing of the other’s body. He threw him self forward, and the Atlantean, instead of pushing him into the flood below, sprawled across Ray’s body, to fall, with a second cry, into the water. Ray was aware of the Murian officer hurdling his legs; pounding on the gate ahead, of a cry from behind, and of the trembling of the bridge under
him. The sentries at the gate behind would raise the bridge, would crush the fugitives between its bulk and the descending portcullis.
He scrambled forward on his hands and knees, not wasting time to get to his feet. Then his shoulder was caught, and he was pulled up to join in the Murians’ flight to the already raising end of the span.
At least half their party had reached that point of safety and were fighting at the gate, and it was only because they did clear the way that the rest made the chancy leap from the quivering end to the small portion of safety beyond. Since the bridges had been designed to keep out attackers, rather than bottle in would-be escapers, that margin of footage on the other end, where the bridge embedded during use, did exist.
They fought their way through the gate and at last heard an alarm gong boom out. Coming free into the dock road, they began to run.
“Where to?” called the Murian leader.
“Can you all swim?”
Laughter rippled out of the dark. “Are we not of the fleet?”
“Then we take to the water.”
They ran, still hugging shadows, winding a path among bales and boxes on the wharves. Ray paused once to get his bearings, to look for the landmark of a ship of the fleet that he had fastened on earlier as a way to reach Taut’s anchorage.
“Guards!”
He did not need that warning, for he heard the thud of running feet and the shouting.
“To the water-”
They stripped off the armor, those who had posed as galley slaves already diving and paddling around waiting for the others. The sea here was cold; Ray gasped as he felt it close about him. Then he began to swim, knowing the Murians were following him. But he was stiff and chilled by the time he reached for the dangling rope ladder on the side of the ship. For a moment he paused, both because he was so stiff’ that any effort was difficult and because he hoped for a sign from any deck watchman. But waiting was too long and dangerous. He would have to brave this as he had all else this night: So he climbed, slipping cautiously over the rail to the deck.
“Stand steady, my fine fellow!” Lantern light glinted on a naked blade and the hulk of a black shadow that held it.
Ray knew that voice. “Captain Taut!”
“Snake of deep water! Sydyk, said to be out of Uighur-” came the answer, but the blade did not waver from its readiness to slash out.
“Come in answer to your invitation, Captain-”
“With a goodly pack behind you,” snorted Taut. “And what more-?”
They could hear the clamor on the docks even this far across the open water.
“What sort of serpent’s egg have you hatched, man from Uighur, and why should it matter to me?”
“Why it should matter, I do not know,” Ray returned as crisply. “Save that you offered me refuge. You can send us— or a portion of us-back into the hands of Chronos’s guard. But I warn you that will not be easy. Or”-he paused before making his shot in the dark-“you can live longer, to lead your men into Poseidon’s palace, their steel open in their hands.”
“So. You have a scheme afoot and wish the raiders to do the dirty end of it. You-who are you who make free to tramp my deck without let or heed?” he growled as the Murians continued to climb over the rail and muster behind Ray, each carrying a sword he had not abandoned with the rest on the docks.
“The dirty work as you call it, Captain, has been largely done. Take service with me, and you will have a powerful ally-”
“Mu.” That was statement, no question. “And what will Mu offer-with the need of going halfway around the world to collect?”
“Enrollment in her forces, pardon for past offenses, a chance to loot in Atlantis-”
“Your authority for all this?” Taut interrupted.
Ray pulled the jet armlet from beneath his undertunic. “Take this, and these men-to Mayax. You will find then what I have promised.”
“You are very sure of yourself-”
“And of you!” returned Ray boldly. This was such an hour when even the wildest chance must be played because there was nothing else to do.
He saw the flash of lantern on blade, but that came as the captain sheathed his sword. And then the American heard Taut laugh.
“By the iron claws of Ba-Al, if you have brought ten Murians out of the city this night, then I can try to got them from the harbor. And, sea god willing, your men will speak for me in Mayax before I am blown out of the water by those who have been non-friends.”
“They will speak for you:”
“They-what of you?”
Ray had put his hand to his head and rubbed his finger’s back and forth across his forehead. It was not really an ache there, behind flesh and bone, that he felt. It was knowledge cold and set—that he could not be a part of Taut’s dash for freedom. That will which had set him on the path to Atlantis was not done with him yet.
“I have not finished what I came here to do,” he said slowly, knowing he spoke the truth.
“But to return is to face certain death,” protested the Murian officer.