The Dark Design by Phillip Jose Farmer

“The more fool you.”

“Aside from that,” Burton said, smiling to hide his anger, “the Arcturans, Monat and his people, were attacked by the Earth peo­ple. They were all killed, but before he died Monat caused almost all of the Earth people to die.”

He paused. How could he explain to this ignoramus that the Arcturans had left their mother ship in orbit around Earth? And that Monat had transmitted a radio wave signal to the orbiting vessel and that it had projected an energy beam of such a frequency that only human beings had died?

He did not really understand it himself, since in his time such things as radio and spaceships had not existed.

Metusael was wide-eyed now. Looking at Monat, he said, “He is a great magician? He killed all those people through his powers?”

For a moment, Burton considered using Monat’s supposed magic as alever. Perhaps he could pry a boat and free-grails out of this man if he threatened him. But, though Metusael might be ignorant, and crazed, he was not unintelligent. He would ask why Monat, if he was such a sorcerer, had not protected the HadjiII from destruction and his companions from hurt. He also might ask why Burton needed a boat, since surely Monat could give them the power to fly through the air.

“Yes, he did slay them,” Burton said. “And he also woke up on these banks, not knowing how or why. His magical tools were left on Earth, of course. However, he says that he will find the materials to make more tools some day, and he will regain his powers and be as mighty and as deadly as ever. Then those who have scorned and mocked him will have good reason to fear him.”

Let Metusael chew on that.

Metusael smiled, and said, “By that time …”

Burton understood. By men the raft would be long gone.

“Besides, Rushhub will protect his people. A god is mightier man a man, even a demon from the stars.”

“Why didn’t Rushhub avert this accident then?” Burton said.

“I do not know, but I am sure that he will come to me in a dream, and he will tell me why. Nothing happens to the people of Rushhub without a purpose.”

Metusaej walked off. Burton returned to the building to check on his crew. Kazz stepped outside just as Burton was about to enter. He had removed all his cloths except for his kilt, revealing a very hairy, squat, big-boned, powerfully muscled body. His head was thrust forward on a bowed and bull-like neck. His forehead was low and slanting; his skull long and narrow; his face, broad. His supraorbital ridges were thick, bony shelves above shrewd dark-brown eyes. The nose was puggish but had flaring nostrils. The bulging jaws pushed out thin lips. The massive hands looked as if they could squeeze stone to powder.

Despite his fearsome appearance, he would not have gotten more than a passing glance in the East End of London in Burton’s time if he had been clothed.

His full name was Kazzintuitruaabemss. In his native language, Man-Who-Slew-The-White-Tooth.

“What’s up, Burton-naq?”

“You and Monat come in with me.”

When he was in the hut, he asked the others how they felt. Alice and Frigate said they could walk but not run. Loghu’s case was evident. She was in no pain because of the dreamgum given her, but she would not be restored to full health for four or five days. It took that long for a broken bone to knit completely. The fantastic speed in healing was due to causes unknown, perhaps something in their food.

Whatever the reason, bones healed, teeth and eyes regrew, torn muscles and burned flesh were renewed, all with a quickness that had once astonished the Valley-dwellers. Now it was taken for granted.

Burton had no sooner explained the situation to them man twelve armed men appeared. Their captain said he had orders to escort them to the island. Two men put Loghu on a stretcher and carried her out. Frigate, supported by Monat and Kazz, limped after them. They made their way, with some difficulty, over the wilderness of logs and onto the shore. Here they were met by the Ganopo, all angry but helpless.