by Andre Norton
“A man is three things.” It was the witch who spoke now. “He is a body to act, a mind to think, a spirit to feel. Or are men constructed differently in your world, Simon? I cannot think so, for you act, you think, and you feel! Kill the body and you free the spirit; kill the mind and ofttimes the body must live on in sorry bondage for a space, which is a thing to arouse man’s compassion. But kill the spirit and allow the body, and perhaps the mind to live—” her voice shook, “that is a sin beyond all comprehension of our kind. And that is what has happened to these men of Gorm. What walks in their guise is not meant for earthbom life to see! Only an unholy meddling with things utterly forbidden could produce such a death.”
“And you cry aloud the manner of our deaths, lady, should Kolder come into Sulcarkeep as it did to Gorm.” The Master Trader pushed his heavy-boned mount up level with them.
“We have bested them here, but what if they muster legions of these half-dead to assault our walls? There are only a few men within the keep, for this is the trading season and nine-tenths of our ships are at sea. We needs must spread thinly in the fortress. A man may clip heads with a will, but his arm tires at the business. And if the enemy keeps coming they can overwhelm us by sheer weight of numbers. For they have no fear for themselves and will go forward where one of us might have a second thought, or a third!”
Neither Koris nor the witch had a ready answer for that. Only Simon’s first sight of the trading port, hours later, was in a manner reassuring. Seamen though the Sulcarmen might be by first choice, they were also builders, using every natural advantage of the point they had selected as an asset in the erection of the keep. From the land side it was mainly wall with watch towers and firing slits in plenty. And it was only when Magnis Osberic escorted them within that they saw the full strength of the place.
Two arms of rock curved out to the sea — a crab’s open claws — and between them was the harbor. But each of those claws had been reinforced with blocks of masonry, walls, watch points, miniature forts, connected to the main body with a maze of underground ways. Wherever possible the outer walls ran down straight to the pound of the waves, providing no possible hold for climbers.
“It would seem,” Simon commented, “that this Sulcarkeep was built with the thought of war in mind.”
Magnis Osberic laughed shortly. “Master Tregarth, the Peace of the Highways may hold for our blood within Estcarp, and to a measure within Alizon and Karsten — providing we clink gold in the hearing of the right ears. But elsewhere in the world we show swords along with our trade goods, and this is the heart of our kingdom. Down in those warehouses lies our life blood — for the goods that we barter is the flow of our life. To loot Sulcarkeep is the dream of every lordling and every pirate in this world!
“The Kolder may be the demon spawn rumor names them, but they do not disdain the good things of this earth. They would like to paddle their paws in our takings as well as the next. That is why we also have a last defense here — if Sulcarkeep falls her conquerors will not profit!” He brought his big fist down upon the parapet before them in a giant’s crushing blow. “Sulcarkeep was built in my great-grandfather’s day to provide all our race with a safe port in time of storm — storm of war as well as storm of wind and wave. And it would seem that we now need it.”
“Three ships in the harbor,” Koris had been counting. “A cargo bottom and two armed runners.”
“The cargo is for Karsten in the dawning. Since it carries the Duke’s bargainings it can go under his flag and her crew need not stand to arms in the port faring,” remarked Osberic.
“ ’Tis tongued about that the Duke is to wed. But there is a necklet of Samian fashioning lying in a chest down there intended for the white neck of Aldis. It would appear that Yvian may put the bracelet on some other’s wrist, but he intends not to wear it on his own.”
The witch shrugged and Koris appeared far more interested in the ships than in any gossip concerning the neighboring court. “And the runners?” he prompted.
“Those remain for a space.” The Master Trader was evasive. “They shall patrol. I am better pleased to know what approaches from the sea.”
A bomber might reduce the outer shell of Sulcarkeep to rubble in a run or two; heavy artillery could breach its massive walls within hours, Simon decided, as he continued on the inspection round with Koris. But there were a warren of passages and chambers in the rock beneath the foundations of the buildings, some giving on the sea — those having barred doors; unless the Kolder had weapons beyond any arms he had seen in this world, the traders would appear to be unnecessarily nervous. One could think that, until one remembered the empty-eyed foemen from Gorm.
He also noted that while there were guardrooms in plenty and well-filled racks of weapons, stands of the heavy mace-axes, there were few men, widely spread through those rooms, patrols stretched over area of wall. Sulcarkeep was prepared to equip and house thousands of men and a scant hundred or so stood to arms there.
The three of them, Koris, the witch, and Simon drew together on a sea tower where the evening wind strove against their mail.
“I dare not strip Estcarp,” Koris spoke angrily, as if in reply to some argument neither of his companions heard, “to center all our manpower here. Such foolishness would be open invitation to Alizon or the Duchy to invade north and south. Osberic has an outer shell which I do not believe even the jaws of the Kolder can crack, but the meat within it is missing. He waited too long; with all his men in port he might hold, yes. With only this handful, I doubt it.”
“You doubt, Koris, but you will fight,” the woman said. There was neither encouragement nor discouragement in her tone. “Because that is what must be done. And it may well be that this hold will break the Kolder’s jaws. But Kolder does come — that Magnis has foreseen truly.”
The Captain looked at her eagerly. “You have a foretelling for us, lady?”
She shook her head.”Expect nothing from me that I cannot give, Captain. When we rode into that ambush I could see nothing but a blank ahead. By that very negative sign I recognized the Kolder. But better than that I cannot do. And you, Simon?”
He started. “I? But I have no pretense to your Power—” he began and then added more honestly, “I can say nothing — except as a soldier I think this is an able fort, and now I feel as one trapped within it.” He had added that last almost without thinking, but he knew it for the truth.
“But that we shall not say to Osberic,” Koris decided. Together they continued to watch the harbor as the sun set, and more and more the city beneath lost the form of a refuge and took on the outline of a cage.
VI
FOG DOOM
It began a little after midnight — that creeping line across the sea, blotting out both stars and waves, sending before it a chill which was bom of neither wind nor rain, but which bit insidiously into a man’s bones, slimed his mail with oily beads, tasted salty and yet faintly corrupt upon his lips.
The line of light globes which followed each curve of the claw fortifications was caught. One by one those pools of light were muffled into vague smears of yellow. To watch that creeping was to watch a world being blotted out inch by inch, foot by foot.
Simon strode back and forth across the small sentry platform on the central watch tower. Half the claw fortifications were swallowed, lost. One of the slim raiders in the harbor was sliced in two by that curtain. It resembled no natural fog he had ever seen, unlike the famous blackouts of London, the poisoned industrial smogs of his own world. The way it crept in from the west as a steady curtain suggested only one thing — a screen behind which an attack might be gathering.
Deadened and hollow he caught the clamor of the wall alarms, those brazen gongs stationed every so many feet along the claws. Attack! He reached the door. of the tower and met the witch.
“They’re attacking!”
“Not yet. Those are storm calls, to guide any ship which might be seeking port.”
“A Kolde
r ship!”
“Perhaps so. But you cannot overturn the customs of centuries in an hour. In fog Sulcarkeep’s gongs serve seamen, only Osberic’s orders can mute them.”
“Then such fogs as this one are known?”
“Fogs are known. Such as this — that is another matter.”
She brushed past him to come out into the open, facing seaward as he had done moments earlier, studying the fast disappearing harbor.
“We of the Power have a certain measure of control over the natural elements, though like all else that is subject to failure or success beyond our forereckoning. It is in the providence of any of my sisterhood to produce a mist which will not only confuse the eyes of the unwary, but also their minds — for a space. But this is different.”
“It is natural?” Simon persisted, sure somehow that it was not. Though why he was so certain of that he could not explain.
“When a potter creates a vase he lays clay upon the wheel and molds it with the skill of his hands to match the plan which is in his brain. Clay is a product of the earth, but that which changes its shape is the product of intelligence and training. It is in my mind that someone — or something — has gathered up that which is a part of the sea, of the air, and has molded it into another shape to serve a purpose.”
“And what do you in return, lady?” Koris had come out behind them. He strode straight to the parapet and slapped his hands down upon the water-pearled stone. “We are like to be blind men in this!”
She did not look away from the fog, watching it with the intentness of a laboratory assistant engaged in a crucial experiment.
“Blindness they may seek, but blindness can enfold two ways. If they will play at illusion — then let them be countered with their own trick!”
“Fight fog with fog?” the Captain commanded.
“You do not fight one trick with the same. They are calling upon air and water. Therefore we must use water and air in return, but in another fashion.” She tapped her thumbnail against her teeth. “Yes, that might be a confusing move,” she murmured as she swung around. “We must get down to the harbor level. Ask of Magnis a supply of wood, dry chips will be excellent. But, if he has them not, get knives that we may cut them. Also some cloth. And bring it to the center quay.”
The choked clamor of the gongs echoed hollowly across the heart of the harbor as the small knot of Sulcarmen and Guards came out on the quay. An armload of board lengths appeared and the witch took the smallest. Her hands plied the knife clumsily as she strove to whittle out the rude outline of a boat, pointed at bow, rounded at stem. Simon took it from her, peeling off the white strips easily, the others following his example as the woman approved.
They had a fleet of ten, of twenty, of thirty chip boats, palm-size, each fitted with a stick mast and a cloth sail the witch tied into place. She went down on her knees before that line, and, stooping very low, blew carefully into each of the tiny sails, pressed her finger for a moment on the prow of each of the whittled chips.
“Wind and water, wind and water,” she singsonged. “Wind to hasten, water to bear, sea to carry, fog to ensnare!”
Swiftly her hands moved, tossing one and another of the crude representations of a sea fleet out into the water of the harbor. The fog was almost upon them, but it was still not too thick for Simon to miss an amazing sight. The tiny boats had formed into a wedge-shaped line pointing straight for the now hidden sea. And, as the first dipped across the line of the fog curtain it was no hastily chipped toy, but a swift, gleaming ship, finer than the slim raiders Osberic had displayed with pride.
The witch caught at Simon’s dangling wrist to draw herself to her feet again. “Do not believe all that you see, outworld man. We deal in illusion, we of the Power. But let us hope that this illusion will be as effective as their fog, frightening off any invaders.”
“They can’t be real ships!” Stubbornly he protested the evidence of his eyes.
“We depend too strongly upon our outer senses. If one can befool the eyes, the fingers, the nose — then the magic is concrete for a space. Tell me, Simon, should you be planning to enter this harbor for attack and then saw out of the fog about your ships a fleet you had not suspected was there, would you not think twice of offering battle? I have only tried to buy us time, for illusion breaks when it is put to any real test. A Kolder ship which would try to lock sides and board one of that fleet could prove it to be what it is. But sometimes time bought is a precious thing.”
She was in a measure right. At least, if the enemy had planned to use the blanket of mist to cover an attack on the harbor, they did not follow through. There was no invasion alarm that night, neither was there any lifting of the thick cover over the city as the hour of dawn passed.
The masters of the three ships in the harbor waited upon Osberic for orders, and he could give none, save to wait out the life of the fog. Simon made the rounds of the Guards in Koris’ wake, and sometimes it was necessary for one man to link fingers in the other’s belt lest they lose touch, upon the outer stations of the sea wall. Orders were given that the gongs continue to beat at regular intervals, not now for the protection of those at sea, but merely that one sentry post keep in touch with the next. And men turned strained, drawn faces, half drew weapons as their reliefs came upon them, until one shouted the password or some identification ahead lest he be spitted upon the steel of a jumpy outpost.
“At this rate,” Tregarth commented as he side-stepped one rush from a Sulcarman they came upon suddenly, and so saved himself from a crippling blow, if not worse, “they will not need to send any attack force, for we shall be flying out upon each other. Let a man seem to wear a beaked helm in this murk and he will speedily be short a head.”
“So I have thought,” the Captain answered shortly. “They play with illusion, too, born of our nerves and fears. But what answer can we give except what we had already done?”
“Anyone with good ears could pick up our passwords.” Simon determined to face the worst. “A whole section of wall could fall to their control, post by post.”
“Can we even be sure that this is an attack?” counter-questioned the other bitterly. “Outworlder, if you can give better orders here, then do so and I shall accept them gladly! I am a man of war, and the ways of war I know — or thought I knew — well. Also I believed that I knew the ways of wizards, since I serve Estcarp with a whole heart. But this is something I have never met before; I can only do my best.”
“And never have I seen this manner of fighting either,” Simon admitted readily. “It would baffle anyone. But this I think now — they will not come by sea.”
“Because that is the way we look to have them creep upon us?” Koris caught him up quickly. “I do not think that the keep can be assaulted from land. These sea rovers have built shrewdly. It would need siege machinery such as would take weeks to assemble.”
“Sea and land — which leaves?”
“Earth and air,” Koris replied.”Earth! Those under passages!”
“But we cannot spread men too thinly to watch all the underground ways.”
Koris’ sea-green eyes glowed with the same feral battle light Simon had seen in them at their first meeting.
“There is a watch which can be put upon them, needing no men. A trick I know. Let us get to Magnis.” He began to run, the point of his sheathed sword clinking now and again against the stone walls as he rounded the turns in the keep corridors.
Basins were lined up on a table, of all sizes and several shapes, but they were uniformly of copper and the balls Koris was carefully apportioning, one to a bowl, were also of metal. One of the bowl and ball combination, installed in the portion of wall overhanging an underground way, would betray any attempt to force the door far below by the oscillation of ball within basin.
Earth was safeguarded as best they could. Which left — the air. Was it because he was familiar with air warfare that Simon found himself listening, watching, at the cost of a crick in the neck, the
murk encasing the towers of the port? Yet a civilization which depended upon the relatively primitive dart guns, the sword, the shield, and a mailed body for offense and defence — no matter what subtle tricks of the mind they called in bolstering aids — could not produce airborne attack as well.
Thanks to Koris’ device of the bowls they had a few moments of warning when the Kolder thrust came. But from all five points where the bowls had been placed that alarm arose at nearly the same instant. The halls leading to each doorway had been stuffed during frenzied hours of labor with all the burnable stuff in the warehouses of the port. Mats of sheep wool and cowhair soaked in oil and tar, which the shipwrights used for the calking, were woven in around torn bales of fine fabrics, bags of dried grain and seeds, and oil and wine poured in rivulets to soak into these giant plugs.
When the bowls warned, torches were applied and other portals closed, sealing off from the central core those flame-filled ways.
“Let them run their cold dog noses into that!” Magnis Osberic thumped his war ax exultingly on the table in the central hall of the main keep. For the first time since the fog had imprisoned his domain the Master Trader appeared to lose his air of harassment. As a seafarer he hated and feared fog, be it born of nature or the meddling of powers. With a chance for direct action, he was all force and drive again.
“Ahhhhhh!” Across the hubbub in the hall that scream cut like a sword slice. Torture of body was not all of it, for only some supreme fear could have torn it from a human throat.
Magnis, his bull’s head lowering as if he would charge the enemy, Koris, sword ready, a little crouched so that his dwarfish body gathered strength from the earth, the rest of the men in that chamber were frozen for a long second.