“But the Murian ship-why?”
“It comes for us.”
“How do they know?”
Cho spread his hands in a gesture of bafflement. “How can one explain? Are men of your time so ignorant of ordinary powers? Is it possible to live so crippled? Yet, it seems that you do. I have been calling with the mind ever since I was taken. At last my men: heard; now they come.”
“Calling with the mind?”
“As I speak to you now without words. You must: learn our tongue, though, for it wearies one too quickly to draw ever on the inner power for ordinary matters. It is so we can call-to those who know us, are seeking us in return.” He sighed and then asked a question. “Why did you not do as I bid and leave when my control over the Atlantean failed?”
Ray flushed. “What did you think I would do? Just cut and run?”
Cho eyed him intently, but what he thought he did not broadcast. When he spoke again, it was of a different matter.
“See, the dwellers in the Shadow have placed their, receiver on the highest notch. They are not minded to be overhauled but run like beasts before hounds.”
Oars no longer fringed the sides of the vessel; yet,` that sharp-prowed ship was disappearing eastward with what seemed to Ray an amazing burst of speed. The Murian cruiser did not alter course to intercept the enemy. Still it stood in for the shore, high enough out, of the water now that an orange flag could be seen.
“Now they must take to the oars,” Cho murmured. Scarlet-painted blades ran out, dipped, sending the vessel on at a slower rate of progress. In color the ship was a clear silver-gray, and it cut the waves into foam with majestic pride-though to Ray’s eyes it had a curious half-finished look without masts. When it reached the former anchorage of the Atlantean vessel, it heaved to, and a boat was lowered. It was quickly manned and headed for the shore.
A last powerful swing of oars sent the small craft through the surf, the two men jumped waist-deep to guide it in. Ray studied the newcomers with keen curiosity. It .was plain these tall young men were of a different race than his late captors. Their skin, beneath the golden wash of suntan, was fair, and their long hair shaded from white-blond to mahogany.
Tunics of leather covered them, and each wore a sword. Jewels glistened and flashed from armlets and broad collars. And they moved with a kind of light grace that Ray mentally associated with practiced Judo fighters he had known in his own time.
But they cast aside all dignity as they surged forward to Cho, laying hold on him as if he were something precious they had lost and feared never to see again. After greeting them all, he turned to Ray.
Keeping his eyes on the American, he reached an empty hand out and made some request. Instantly the leader of the boat party drew his sword and laid its hilt in Cho’s hand. The Murian planted the point of the blade deep in a patch of sand between the American and himself. Then he caught Ray’s right hand in his, drawing it to rest with his on the hilt of the upstanding sword.
Still gazing intently at the American, he chanted a sentence that was taken up by the men behind him. Then the leader stepped forward, a short dagger in his hand. He pricked the wrists of both men so that two small trickles of blood mingled on the sword hilt.
“Thus do I claim you sword brother and shield mate, new son of my mother’s courtyard, one blood with my house henceforth-”
The words of the oath burned clearly in Ray’s mind. He knew an instant of hesitation, the feeling that if he accepted such kinship, he was stepping through another door. But even as that warning doubt pricked at him, another portion of his mind denied it and reached almost greedily for what might be security of sorts in an alien world. Was any acknowledgment expected of him? He could see this was some formal rite, which might carry-that inner warning shrilled-more responsibility than he could guess. But he answered aloud:
“Yes.” And he knew Cho understood.
For the second time Ray was in a ship’s long boat. But this time Cho was beside him. And he was no prisoner-or was he? Had he really any choice? Against that wariness warred a feeling of expectancy, which continued as he followed Cho up the ladder, over a deck crowded with men who cheered the appearance of the Murian, and down into a large cabin. And the cabin then claimed his full attention.
By the standards of his own age, Ray suspected, it might be considered barbaric because of the lavish use of precious metals and bright colors. Yet’ it was not Oriental, nor did it follow any “native” style of art he had ever seen. And he did know a little about art through his photography.
Around the walls were panels of a dead-black wood, which were inlaid with intricate designs, combining gem stones with bright paint or enamelwork. Between these hung long curtains of brilliant fabrics. A table of the same wood as the panels occupied the opposite end of the cabin, with long benches on either side and a high-backed chair at its head.
From beams overhead swung two balls of rosy light, encased in filigree globes. The chains from which the pendants hung swayed with the motion of the ship, so that the light appeared to wax and wane.
As Ray halted to stare about him, Cho went to the table. He poured liquid from a flagon into a stemmed goblet, listening meanwhile to a young officer he had introduced to Ray as Han. Suddenly the Murian put down the flagon with a click and uttered a sound of protest. Then he glanced back at Ray.
“We have been recalled. This northern sea and that of the east are closed, which means-”
“War?” Hazarded the American. One world or another, one time or another, he thought dully, war seemed to be ever-present.
Cho nodded. “If and when the Re Mu wills. But now we go home.” He turned to Han, apparently asking more questions.
Ray felt a steady vibration creeping through the walls and the deck of the cabin. He steadied himself with one hand against an inlaid panel, suddenly not sure of his balance. He was eying one of the benches as a more secure base when there was a sharp movement from Han. The young officer flung up his arm as if to ward off a blow; his mouth twisted in pain. Then, with only an inclination of his head to Cho, he turned and left them. Cho soberly watched him go.
“Lanor was his sword brother, and Lanor fell beside me with a pirate dagger in his throat. Han eats sorrow this day. But that debt will not go unpaid. We shall remember it when we stand sword to sword with those of Ba-Al, and the accounting then shall be a -just one. Now, do you eat and drink. Then we shall sleep-for no man can do well empty and weary.”
They drank, a wine Ray thought, from finely wrought goblets. And they ate from plates that were works of art, though once he saw what they held, Ray was more interested in contents than containers. It was only when he was satisfied that he raised his eyes to the wall of the cabin behind Cho’s head and saw that the panels there were three in width and the design on them was not a decorative pattern but had meaning-a map!
Ray leaned forward, his breath coming faster as his eyes followed shorelines on that unbelievable map. Some of it-but how little-was familiar. There were two continents, one north and one south, but bearing only a vague resemblance to those he had known. The
Mississippi, the Ohio, most of the north-eastern and southern portions of the North American continent were now under sea, while Alaska was linked firmly to Siberia. The heartland of Brazil, to the south, was a landlocked ocean. To balance the drowning of lands he knew, there were two new continents-one east, one west-so that the map was now roughly diamond shaped, a land mass at each corner.
More than anything he had seen during the past two days, that map drove home the sharp lesson of the change.
“What is it?” Cho set down his goblet and put out his hand. What the Murian read on his face, Ray did not know, but in some measure his shock must have been mirrored there.
“That-that map!”
The Murian looked over his shoulder. “More decorative than useful, I fear,” was his comment.
“Then-then that is not this world?” The American breathed more freely.
“It is, except that it is not a chart by which to set any ship’s course. In mass it is right enough. See”-Cho went to the wall- “here are the Barren Lands.” With a fingertip he traced the remaining part of the Ohio Valley north. “Hunters come here, outlaws, but there are no regular settlements. It is too harsh a hand to attract many, only those who have need for a wilderness in which to hide or those who have a desire to explore a little. Now, we are about here-” His finger moved down into the sea. “We head south-to cross the Inner Sea-” Swiftly his finger moved to Brazil. “This is Mayax, loyal to the motherland, strong and rich. Then we go through the western canals to the western ocean and thence to Mu-” His goal was the land mass to the west.