them so each of them saw me as one of their own
number . . . and I saw that in them which surprised
me, as I stood there and listened to them argue.”
“Argue… about what?”
“In part, about the Swords. As usual they were able
to agree on nothing, which I count as good news for
humanity. But I heard other news also, that was not
good at all. The Dark King, Vilkata, has the
Mindsword now. How and when he got it, I do not
know.”
For a long moment Mark stood silent. Then he
muttered softly, “Ardneh’s bones! The gods were
saying that? Do you believe it?”
“I am glad,” said Draffut, “that you understand that
what the gods tell us is not always true. But in this
case I fear it is the truth. Remember that I held the
Sword of Stealth in my own hands then, and I looked
at the speakers carefully as they were speaking. They
were not telling deliberate lies; nor do I think they
were mistaken.”
“Then the human race is . . .” Mark made a gesture
of futility. “. . . in trouble.” Looking down at the blade he
was still holding, he swung it lightly, testing how it felt
in his grip. “If the question is not too impertinent, how
did you come to have this? The last time I saw it, it
was embedded in the body of a flying dragon.”
“It may have fallen from the creature in flight. I
found it in the Great Swamp.”
“And-again if you do not mind my asking-how did
you come to be spying on the gods?”
Draffut rested one of his enormous hands on a
treetrunk that stood beside him. Mark thought he saw
the bark change color around that grip. It even moved
a little, he thought, achieving a different
tempo in its life. Many were the marvelous tales told
of Draffut. Now the Beastlord was speaking.
“Once I had this Sword in my hand, I decided that I
would never have a better chance to do something
that I had long thought about-to find the Emperor, and
talk to him face to face.”
“You did not go first to find the gods?”
“I had met gods before;” Draffut ruminated. In a
moment he went on. “The Emperor is not an easy
man to locate. But I have some skill in discovering
that which is hidden, and I found him. I had been for a
long time curious.”
Mark had sometimes been curious on the same
subject, but only vaguely so. He had grown up
accepting the commonly held ideas about the
Emperor: a legendary trickster, perhaps invented and
unreal. A practical joker, a propounder of riddles, a
wearer of masks. A sometime seducer of brides and
maidens, and the proverbial father of the poor and the
unlucky. Only in recent years, as Mark began to meet
people who knew more about the world than the
name of the next village, had he come to understand
that the Emperor might have a real importance.
Not that his curiosity on the subject had ever
occupied much of his time or thought. Still, he now
asked Draffut, “What is he like?”
“He is a man,” said Draffut firmly, as if there had
been some doubt of that. But, having made that point,
the Beastlord paused, as if he were at a loss as to
what else to say.
At last he went on. “John Ominor, the enemy of
Ardneh, was called Emperor too.” At this offhand
recollection of the events of two thousand years past,
Mark could feel his scalp creep faintly. Draffut
continued. “And then, a little later, some called Prince
Duncan, a good man, by that title.”
Draffut fell silent. Mark waited briefly, then
pursued the subject. “Has this man now called the
Emperor some connection with the Swords? Can he
be of any help to us against Vilkata?”
Draffut made a curious two-handed gesture, that in
a lesser being would have suggested helplessness.
When he let go of the treetrunk its surface at once
reverted to ordinary bark. “I think that the Emperor
could be an enormous help to us. But how to obtain
his help . . . and as for the Swords, I can tell you this:
I think that Sightblinder did not deceive him for a
moment, though I had it in my hand as I approached.”
“It did not deceive him?”
“I think he never saw me as anything but what I
am.” The Beastlord thought for a moment, then
concluded: “Of course it was not my intention to
deceive him, unless he should mean me harm-and I do
not believe he did.”
The speaker’s intense, inhuman gaze held Mark’s
eyes. “It was the Emperor’s suggestion that I take this
Sword and use it to observe the councils of the gods.
And he told me something else: that after I had heard
the gods, I should bring Sightblinder on to you.”
Mark experienced an inward chill, a feeling like that
of sudden fear, but with a spark of exhilaration at the
core of it. To him both emotions were equally
inexplicable. “To me?” he echoed stupidly.
“To you. Even the Sword of Stealth cannot disguise
me well enough to let me pass for human, or for any
type of creature of merely human size. At a distance,
perhaps. But I cannot enter the dwellings
of humans secretly, to listen to their secret councils.”
“You say you’re able to spy on the gods, though.
Isn’t that even more important?”
The Beastlord was shaking his head. “The war that
is coming is going to jar the world, as it has not been
jarred since the time of Ardneh. And the war is
going to be won or lost by human beings, though the
gods will have a role to play.”
“How do you know these things?”
Draffut said nothing.
“What can we do?” Mark asked simply.
“I am going, in my own shape, to try to influence the
actions of the gods. As you may know, I am
incapable of hurting humans, whatever happens. But
against them I can fight when necessary. I have done
as much before, and won.”
Again Mark could feel his scalp creep. He
swallowed and nodded. Apparently there was some
basis of truth for those legends that told of Draffut’s
successful combat against the wargod Mars himself.
Draffut added: “I am going to leave the Sword with
you.”
Again to hear that brought Mark a swift surge of
elation, an emotion in this case swiftly dampened by a
few memories and a little calculation.
“Sir Andrew, whom I serve, has sent me on a
mission to Princess Rimac-or to her General Rostov,
if he proves easier to find. I am to tell them certain
things . . . of course, I can take the Sword of Stealth
along with me. And I suppose I could give it to them
when I get there . . . but what did the Emperor have
in mind for me to do with it? Do you trust him?”
Questions were piling up in his mind faster than he
could ask them.
“I have known and dealt with human beings for
more than fifty thousand years,” said Draffut, “and
I trust him. Though he would not explain. He said
only that he trusts you with the Sword.”
Mark frowned. To be told of such mysterious
trust by an apparently powerful figure was some-
how more irritating than pleasing. “But why me?
What does he know about me?”
“He knows of you,” said Draffut immediately, in
a tone of unhelpful certainty. “And now, I must be
on my way.” The giant turned away, then back
again to say, “The Princess’s land of Tasavalta lies
to the east of here, along the coast, as I suppose you
know. As to where Rostov and his army might be at
the moment, you can probably guess as well as L”
“I’ll take the Sword on with me, then, to the Prin-
cess.” Mark raised his voice, calling after the
Beastlord; Draffut, moving at a giant’s walk consid-
erably faster than a human run, was already
growing distant. Mark sighed, swallowing more
questions that were obviously not going to be
answered now.
Splashing through the shallow river, Draffut
turned once more, for just long enough to wave
farewell. Then he began to climb the far wall of the
great canyon. He climbed like a mountain goat,
going right up the steep rocks. Mark thought he
could see the rock itself undergoing temporary
change, wherever Draffut touched it, starting to
flow with the impulses of life.
Then Draffut was gone, up and over the canyon
rim.
Left alone, Mark was suddenly exhausted. He
stared for a long moment at the Sword left in his
hands. Then he bent to enjoy, at last, the drink he
needed from the river„ whose name he did not