“That’s why you got them to think I did those klatha tricks tonight?” the captain asked.
“Sure. If they found out we got the Drive here, they better think we can keep it. Far as Sedmon is concerned, you’re a witch now.”
“What kind of a fellow is he otherwise?” the captain asked. “I’ve heard stories….”
“I can tell you stories about Sedmon you won’t believe,” Goth said. “But not tonight. Just one thing. If we’re alone with him, not if someone else is around and it looks as if he’s starting to wonder again if you’re a witch, call him ‘Sedmon of the Six Lives.’ He’ll snap to it then.”
“Sedmon of the Six Lives, eh? What does that mean?”
“Don’t know,” Goth said. She yawned. “Threbus can tell you when we see him. But it’ll work.”
“I’ll remember it,” the captain said.
“Going to do any more worrying?” Goth asked.
“No. Night, witch!”
“Night, Your Wisdom!” She slipped down from the bed, clicking off the spy-screen, and was gone from the room.
Impressive as the House of Thunders looked from a distance, it became apparent, as the military groundcar carrying Goth and the captain approached it up winding mountain roads, that its exterior was as weather-beaten and neglected as the streets of the old quarter of Zergandol. The Daal’s penuriousness was proverbial on Uldune. Evidently it extended even to keeping up the appearance of the mighty edifice which was the central seat of his government.
The section of the structure through which they presently were escorted was battered, but filled with not particularly unobtrusive guards. Several openings and hallways revealed the metallic gleam of heavy armament, obviously in excellent repair. Dilapidated the House of Thunders might look, the captain thought, but for the practical purpose of planetary defense it should still be a fortress to be reckoned with. The escorting officers paused presently before an open door, bowed the visitors through it and drew the door quietly shut behind them.
This was a windowless room, well furnished, its walls concealed by the heavy ornamental hangings of another period. Sedmon stood here waiting for them. The captain saw a lean, middle-aged man, dark-skinned, with steady, watchful eyes. Uldune’s lord wore a long black robe and a helmet-like cap of velvet green, which covered half his forehead and enclosed his skull to the nape of his neck. The last must be the anti-klatha device Goth had mentioned.
He greeted them cordially, using the names with which his Office of Identities had supplied them and apologized for the outrage attempted against them by Sunnat, Bazim & Filish.
“My first impulse,” he said, “was to have those wretches put to death without an hour’s delay!”
“Well,” said the captain uncomfortably, quickly blotting out another mental vision of the Daal’s executions peeling wicked Sunnat’s skin from her squirming body, “it may not be necessary to be quite so severe with them!”
Sedmon nodded. “You are generous! But that was to be expected. In fact, in the cases of Bazim and Filish Your Wisdom appears to have inflicted on the spot the punishment you regarded as suitable to their offense-“
“It was what they deserved,” the captain agreed.
The Daal coughed. “Also,” he said, “I have considered that Bazim and Filish are, when in their senses, most valuable subjects. They claim they acted as they did solely out of their great fear of Sunnat’s anger. If it is your wish then, I shall release them to conclude the work on your ship, as stipulated by contract, with this condition. They may not receive one Imperial mael from you in payment! Everything shall be done at their expense. Further, my inspectors will be looking over their shoulders; and if they, or you, should find cause for the slightest complaint, there will be additional penalties and far more drastic ones…. Does this meet with Your Wisdoms’ approval?”
The captain cleared his throat, assured him it did.
“There remains the matter of Sunnat,” the Daal resumed. “Your testimony against her is not required, her partners’ separate statements have made it clear enough that she was the instigator of the plot. However, it would be well if Your Wisdoms would accompany me to the Little Court now to see that the judgment rendered against this pernicious woman is also in accordance with your wishes….”
A handful of minor officials were arranged about the mirrored expanse of the Daal’s Little Court when they entered. Sedmon seated himself, and the visitors were shown to chairs at the side of the bench. A moment later two soldiers brought Sunnat in through a side door. She started violently when she caught sight of the captain and Goth and avoided looking in their direction again. Sunnat had clearly had a very bad night! Her face was strained and drawn; her reddened eyes flickered nervously as they glanced about. But frightened as she must be, she soon showed she was still trying to squirm out of the situation.
“Lies, all lies, Your Highness!” she exclaimed tearfully but with a defiant toss of her head. “Never, never! would I have wished Their Wisdoms harm, or dared consider doing them harm if I hadn’t been forced to what I did by the cruel threats of Bazim and Filish. They….”
It got her nowhere. The Daal pointed out quietly it was clear she hadn’t realized With whom she was dealing when she turned on Captain Aron and his niece. Malice and greed had motivated her. It was well known that her partners were fully under her sway. Justice could not be delayed by such arguments.
No mention was made by either side of the mysterious spacedrive Sunnat had tried to get into her possession. It seemed she had been warned against saying anything about that in court.
Sunnat was weeping wildly at that point. Sedmon glanced over at the captain, then looked steadily at Goth.
“Since the criminal’s most serious offense was against the Young Wisdom,” he said, “it seems fitting that the Young Wisdom should now decide what her punishment should be.”
The Little Court became quiet. Goth remained seated for a moment, then stood up.
“It would be even more fitting, Sedmon, “ somebody beside the captain said, “if the Young Wisdom herself administered the punishment….”
He started. The words had come from Goth but that had not been Goth’s voice! Everybody in the Little Court was staring silently at her. Then the Daal nodded.
“It shall be as Your Wisdom said….”
Goth moved away from the captain, stopped a few yards from Sunnat. He couldn’t see her face. But the air tingled with eeriness and he knew klatha was welling into the room. He had a glimpse of the Daal’s face, tense and watchful; of Sunnat’s, dazed with fear.
“Look in the mirror, Sunnat of Uldune!”
It wasn’t her voice! What was happening? His skin shuddered and from moment to moment now his vision seemed to blur, then clear again. The voice continued, low, mellow, but somehow it was filling the room. Not Goth’s voice but he felt he’d heard it before somewhere, sometime, and should know it. And his mind strained to understand what it said but seemed constantly to miss the significance of each word by the fraction of a second, as the quiet sentences rolled on with a weight of silent thunder in them. Sunnat faced one of the great mirrors in the room; he saw her back rigid and straight and thought she was frozen, unable to move. Sedmon’s lean hands were clamped together, unconsciously knotting and twisting as he stared.
The voice rose on an admonitory note, ended abruptly in sharp command. It couldn’t, the captain realized, actually have been speaking for more than twenty seconds. But it had seemed much longer. There was silence for an instance now. Then Sunnat screamed.
One couldn’t blame her, he thought. Staring into the mirror, Sunnat had seen what everyone else in the Little Court could see by looking at her. Set on her shoulders instead of her own head was the bristled, red-eyed head of a wild pig, ugly jaws gaping and working, as screams continued to pour from them. There was a medley of frightened voices. The Daal shouted a command at Sunnat’s white-faced guards, and the two grasped the writhing figure by the arms, hustled it from the Little Court. As they passed through the side door, it seemed to the captain that Sunnat’s wails had begun to resemble a pig’s frightened squealing much more than the cries of a young woman in terrible distress….
“Toll!” the captain told Goth, rather shakily. “You were talking in Toll’s voice! Your mother’s voice!”
“Well, not really,” Goth said. They were alone for the moment, in a small room of the House of Thunders, to which they had been conducted by a stunned-looking official after the Daal, rather abruptly, concluded judicial proceedings in the Little Court following the Young Wisdom’s demonstration. Sedmon was to rejoin them here in a few minutes, the captain guessed the Daal had felt it necessary to get settled down a little first. Their spy-screen snapped on the instant the room’s door closed on the official, who seemed glad to be on his way.