The familiar trick of getting above him was tried, an old device in patrol craft and spaceship fighting. But the expected energy flow upward did not take place. His small vessel did not even sag, which was normally the minimum reaction when two sources of atomic energy operated on a gravity line.
The efforts worried Clane. Czinczar was, of course, aware by this time that his enemy knew more about the metals of the gods than he or his technicians. But it would be unfortunate if they should conclude from the actions of this one ship that Clane himself was inside. He wanted to see this battle. In spite of evening, minute by minute, he saw it.
The defense was tough, tougher than he had anticipated from the fact that four more cities had fallen in the past four weeks. The untrained were fighting grimly for their lives. Arrows took a toll of the attackers. Spears, awkwardly but desperately manipulated, inflicted wounds and sometimes death. The sword-fighting stage was the worst. The muscular and powerful barbarians, once they penetrated the weapons that could attack them from a distance, made shortwork of their weaker adversaries.
The first line was down, devastated, defeated. The secondline battle began. Barbarian reserves came forward and were met by waves of arrows that darkened the sky – and took their toll when they struck the advancing groups of men. Hoarse cries of pain, curses, the shrieks of the desperately wounded, the agonized horror of Linnans suddenly cut off and doomed, rose up to the ears of those in the darting small craft. The defenders strove to stay together. That was part of their instrnctions. Retreat slowly to the central squares – which were strongly held against a surprise rear attack.
Retreat, and at the last minute spaceships would land and rescue the hard-pressed, but theoretically still intact army of what had once been able-bodied civifians. After a month and a half of training they were too valuable to sacrifice in a last-ditch fight.
As it was, their dogged resistance was shaping the pattern of the war. Surely, Czinczar, counting his men after each battle, must already be having his own private doubts, His armyas a whole, augmented by the unrepentant among the slaves, was increasing daily. But the larger the army grew, the smaller was his chance of controlling it.
Yet there was no doubt about this battle, or this city, As the dark tide of night slipped in from the east, victory fires began to burn in all the important streets. The smoke wreathed into the sky, and blood-red flames licked up into the blackness. The Linnans below, at this very moment enduring the beginning of a barbarian occupation, would not be in a humor to appreciate that their grudgingly accepted defeat represented a possible turning point in the war.
The time had come to decide when and where and under what conditions the main Linnan force would be thrown into a decisive battle for the control of the planet. And there was another decision, also, involving an immensely risk attempt to get near the ball of light. Clane shifted uneasily and drew his cloak tightly around his thin shoulders.
He was still considering ways and means when a message was brought him by a released Linnan nobleman who had been captured by the barbarians.
The message was a one-sentence question from Czinczar. “Have you ever wondered, my dear Lord Clane, how the civilization of the golden age was so completely destroyed?”
It was a problem about which Clane had pondered many times. But it had never occured to him that the answer might be known to a barbarian from a remote moon of Jupiter.
He questioned the released nobleman, a middle-aged knight of the empire, as to conditions in Linn. The answers were not pleasant. Many slaves had taken revenge on their former masters. Numerous Linnan women of rank had been reduced to the status of prostitute.
In questioning the man for any news of his Linnan residence, he learned that Czinczar had publicly invited temple scientists to take care of “certain relics” formerly in the possession of Lord Clane.
Clane said at that point, “He actually mentioned my name.”
“It was posted,” was the reply, and the man shrugged. “I read it on one of my errands out of the palace grounds.”
Long after the interview was over, Clane considered that. He suspected a trap – and yet Czinczar could not know how immensely valuable that sphere was.
If the barbarian leader had looked into it through a hollow tube, he might be startled at what was “inside.” But still it would do him no good. Nevertheless, suppose it was a trap.
It still made no difference. For his purpose, momentary proximity to the ball was all that would be required. Dared he take the chance?
He was still considering the gamble when another released nobleman brought a second message from Czinczar:
I shall like to have a conversation with you and should like to show you an object the like of which – I’ll wager – you have never seen. Can you think of a way in which such a meeting could be arranged?
Lord Clane showed the message to the general staff at its meeting the following morning. They unanimously forbade such a rendezvous but agreed that it was an opportunity to send a formal message to the barbarian leader.
The mutation, who had his own reasons for appearing firm, had already written the communication. He read it to the assembled officers:
To the barbarian chieftain, Czinczar:
Your cowardly attempt to win mercy for your crimes against humanity by a personal appeal to myself is of no avail. Get off this planet with your barbarous forces. Only immediate compliance can save you and Europa from destruction. Take heed!
Clane,
Acting Lord Leader
The message was approved and dispatched in the care of a captured barbarian officer. Clane began immediately to complete preparations for launching an attack against the city of Linn. Such an attack had been discussed several times by the staff and had been agreed on reluctantly, as a feint. The generals felt that a landing might confuse the defenders of the city and thus enable the Linnan army to recapture key outlying cities, which would indeed be the real goal. It was understood that the assault force would withdraw from Linn during the night of the day of attack.
Clane was content with this. He set out for the city of Linn the day before the attack, making the initial part of the journey in an air scooter. From this, in a secluded spot, he unloaded a donkey and a cart of vegetables, and trudged beside it the final twelve miles.
In his drab work garb of a temple initiate, he was one of many carts; and at no time was there any problem. So vast was the slave army that held Linn that Gzinczar’s forces had quickly sought to establish a normal flow of food from the surrounding countryside into the city to ward off starvation.
Linnan scouts had long since reported that the gates were open.
Clane entered without interference from the former slaves who guarded that particular gate. Once inside, he was even less conspicuous, and no one questioned his right to go along the street toward his city residence. He climbed the hill at the trades entrance and was permitted to take his cart through an opening in the low fence by the single barbarian soldier who guarded that section of it.
Dutifully, as if he were sent on lawful business, he headed for the trades entrance of the house, and he turued the vegetables over to two women and said, “Who is in charge today?”
He was given a barbarian name, “Cleedon!”
“Where is he?” Clane asked.
“In the office of course-through there.” The older woman pointed along the main hallway, which led through the large central room where most of the precious machinery and equipment had been stored.
As he entered the great room, he saw that there were a dozen barbarian soldiers at the various entiances. He saw also that the container with the ball of light was at the center of the chamber.
… Misty sphere, vaguely glowing as if from an inner flame, rolling to and fro …
He could walk by and touch it in passing.
Without appearing too hurried, he walked forward, put his finger through the flimsy surface of the sphere, and, without pausing, continued on toward the office.
He was sorely tempted, at this point, to take no further chances. If he acted at once and seized the house, then he would have control of the box.
But if he carried through with his original plan and then the box were removed so that he could not find it during the three days that the sphere would not be activated – He shuddered and refused to think of such an eventuality.