Star of Danger by Marion Zimmer Bradley

But before he could finish the sentence, a wild clamor of bells broke out from the village below. Valdir stiffened; the two telepaths darted looks at one another. From further away another bell and another sounded the alarm; not now in the known pattern to signal a fire, but a wild, clamorous cry of warning. The men in the camp, the men trooping back from the dead fire, dropped their tools and axes and looked up, startled. There was a rising murmur of apprehension, of dread.

Valdir swore, furiously. “We might have known—”

Kennard looked at him in astonishment “What is it, Father?”

Valdir’s mouth twisted bitterly. “A trick—the fire was obviously set to draw us away from the villages, so that the bandits could attack in peace—and find no one to meet them but women and old men and little children!”

The fire camp, until now so orderly, was suddenly a scene of milling confusion as men formed into groups, stirred around restlessly, broke away for their horses, and within a few minutes the crowded field was almost empty, men vanishing silently in all directions. Valdir watched, tightmouthed.

“The raiders may get a surprise,” he said, at last. “They’ll never guess we could have conquered such a fire so quickly just the same”—he looked grim and angry—”I had no chance— Tell me, Larry, how would your people handle such an attack?”

“I suppose we’d all get together and fight it,” Larry said, and Valdir’s mouth moved in a brief, mirthless laugh.

“Right. But they won’t understand that it’s as urgent as a fire—” he broke off, with a violent gesture. “Zandru seize them all! Kennard, where did they take our horses?”

Fifteen minutes later they were riding away from the village, Valdir still silent and grim, Kennard and Larry not daring to break in on his anger. Larry was still strangling with the sense of wonder. The powers these Darkovans had—and the slipshod, unsystematic way they used them!

He was beginning to formulate a theory as to why Valdir had invited him to his estate. Valdir evidently had some inkling of the value of a quality which seemed alien to the Darkovan way of life, something the Terrans had. Larry hardly knew how to describe it. It was the thing Kennard had jeered at when he said, “You Terrans can’t handle your personal problems by yourselves—you have to call in everyone else.” Perhaps it could be called a community spirit, or the ability to work together in groups. They didn’t know how to organize; even in firefighting there had been no single leader but each group had worked separately. Even now, there was no way they could get together against the common danger of the bandits. And Valdir, who could see the history of failure behind these scattered efforts, hoped to change this old pattern. But they hadn’t given him a chance.

The other Darkovans who had originally been a part of the three-day hunt—how long ago that seemed!—rode several paces behind, not wanting to break in on their master’s preoccupation. To Larry, Valdir’s feelings seemed as clear as if he, himself had felt them. Kennard, too, riding silently at Larry’s side, was mulling it over in his mind, the disparity behind the old codes and his father’s attempt to change things. To Larry it seemed almost as if Kennard spoke his thoughts aloud—his father could do no wrong, and yet how had he come to these conclusions?

Once away from the site of the fire, there was no sign of clouds or of the brief rain; only the high-hanging cloud of smoke and soot over the forest told where the fire had been. Even that had vanished behind the hills by the time they paused, where the road forked at the foot of a thickly wooded slope, to breathe the horses and to eat cold food from their saddlebags.

Kennard said idly, “It’s going to be good to be home.”

Larry nodded. He still ached from the unaccustomed labor in the firelines, and his hands were raw and blistered.

“Mine too,” Kennard said, displaying his hands ruefully. “Though you’d think they were hardened enough by now. The arms-master in the city guard wouldn’t have much sympathy for me. He’d say I’d shirked sword-practice too many times.”

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