by D. E. Ellis
There arose mutterings as the watching tribesmen found themselves being deprived of the entertainment of Hoonin being put to death in some spectacular manner. Their respect for Gor Don, however, made them see the wisdom of his words. Hoonin, himself, was wondering at this sudden reprieve. A proud man, the thought of losing face by bowing to his victory made him ready to seek death with open arms, but Gor Don’s words threw him open to doubt. Somehow, the alternative to death sounded quite honourable. He made one last stand. “And if I refuse…?”
“You are free to go.”
The answer shook Hoonin, who was trying to sort out his reply from the confusion and muddle in his mind caused by this peculiar treatment. If he left, the story of his defeat would follow him. He would have to travel many miles to build up a reputation as a priest again, in an area where he was unknown. Revenge coloured his thoughts, but he realised that, without a following, it would be difficult to overthrow this upstart priest. Besides, some of the upstart’s tricks really were worth knowing …
“Your God is the greater. Hoonin does not wish to follow unworthy gods.”
His capitulation having been made with as little loss of pride as possible, Hoonin was allowed to retire to his hut. Gradually, the rest of the tribesmen drifted away to their quarters. At last, there remained only one childlike figure seated on the ground. Thane could dimly observe that it was that of a girl, who seemed unable to take her gaze from Gor Don. He left Gor Don talking to the two chiefs, and went to sit by her side.
Closer inspection proved her to be older than he had supposed. However, her figure was surprisingly slight compared to the other, heavily-built, Gabbler females. Her features were also more delicate, almost beautiful—but not quite so regular as those of the Klaatan people. Her rough clothes, however, proclaimed her to be one of the lower orders of the Gabbler tribe.
Thane compared the look on her face to the star-struck youngsters of his own time; but it was more, he decided. She was starved, hungry for something which she was not sure existed; eager to snatch any straw that might provide the missing vital part of her existence.
“Would you like to meet him?” asked Thane.
Her thoughts disrupted, the girl’s face became blank. The answer she gave Thane was absolutely unintelligible. After several more unsuccessful attempts to communicate with here, he returned to Dunstable.
AS a respectful follower of Gor Don, he could not interrupt his conversation. Yet he was burning with curiosity to know more about the girl. Fortunately, his wanderings had been observed.
“Your attendant is wasting his time there,” laughed Junter. “Poor Mury is simple. She has never spoken since she was born, except some peculiar mouthings of her own. Her mind wanders along different paths from ours. That’s one of the evils that follows the mating of a Klaatan with a Gabbler. Have a care, Hamer, that it doesn’t happen to your children.”
“The union of a Klaatan and a Gabbler is very rarely blessed with children. And, as you say, the children are usually unlike the others. But, occasionally, that is for the best. It has resulted in the birth of some very superior ones—even though, unfortunately, they seem to die young.”
“It is said that our great-grandfather was one such child. He lived just long enough to take a wife, and father two children. The Klaatan strain in our family is now very thin, but it may make your union more successful than most.”
Chapter 16
In spite of the urgency of their mission, Thane Arnot found his thoughts wandering back to the girl He found it impossible to believe that there was not some intelligence there. After discreet inquiries had failed to produce any clues as to the whereabouts of the hostages, he retired to the hut set apart for Gor Don’s use.
“So far, there is no one we can trust. If we question anyone directly, word of it would probably reach the wrong ears. I have a feeling that, if only Mury could talk, we might find out something. Did you see the way she looked at you?” Thane asked Dunstable when they were alone.
“I must have more attraction for the females than I supposed,” laughed Dunstable. “It’s a pity I’m a dedicated man. At least, she would not be able to tell anyone you had asked, if she is unable to speak.”
“Great amount of help you are … Wait though, I’ve just had an idea. If she’s half-Klaatan, perhaps Rona could establish mental contact with her. Do you think you could persuade Junter to let Mury return with us? It’s probably a waste of time—but we might stay here for ages and find out nothing. I hope Hamer intends to return tomorrow; if not, we must make some excuse to return alone—that is, if Junter agrees to let Mury come with us.”
Junter was only too pleased to let Mury go with them. To him, she was just an additional mouth to feed, her parents having died when she was quite young. Gor Don explained that it might be possible to use his powers to cure her. Whether or not Junter believed this, or secretly thought that Gor Don just wanted to possess her, he did not argue.
Hamer, too, fell in with their plans; he prepared to start back very early the next morning.
Rona looked surprised as she saw the pathetic, unkempt waif. Hamer was a trifle apologetic.
“Gor Don seems to think this object would make you a useful servant. Since she can’t speak, and doesn’t seem to have any brains, he must be proposing to cure her. I do not wish to risk offending Gor Don—who seems to have unusual powers, even for a priest. But, if you do not wish to have her, I will send her back—or suggest he finds another home for her.”
“Wait … Give me a moment to think about it,” answered Rona, using the moment to hastily flash a message to Thane.
“Who is she?” came the thought.
“She may be able to tell you where they have hidden our friends, if you can reach her mind. She is half-Klaatan, but seems to be either deaf and dumb or mad.”
“I will try.” Aloud, Rona said: “Perhaps some clean clothes and a wash will make her more presentable. I am willing to give her a trial anyway. We can always send her back, if it’s hopeless. Leave us now while I see what I can do.”
The men departed and Rona took the girl by her shoulders, making her gaze straight into her eyes.
“Can you hear me!” The thought, delivered with all her power, entered as a disturbing whisper into the darc caverns of Mury’s bewildered mind. The light that kindled in her eyes was Rona’s answer. She tried again.
Pictures flashed through Mury’s brain. She was sure they were not her own. It was quite obvious that this other girl had something to do with them. Words had no meaning. Although thought-communication was a matter of fleeting impressions and sensations, rather than words, there were so many things Mury had never experienced! and it was impossible to communicate abstract things.
After a while, it was quite clear that she was enjoying the game. At first, the pictures consisted of trees and camp scenes, then Rona tried to show her pictures of Ranmor. The look of wonder on Mury’s face told her that this was completely strange to her. She broke the chain of pictures and Mury pleaded with her eyes, and the strange sounds, for more. Again and again, Rona broadcasted the idea of Mury trying to make pictures for herself.
At long last, she was rewarded. The transmission was no better than Thane’s, but Rona was able to reach out and pluck it from her mind—the picture of Gor Don victorious over Hoonin. She was watching his lips moving, realising once again a great lack in her own life.
Having conveyed the thought that Mury should wash and dress in fresh clothes, Rona proceeded to assist her in this unaccustomed activity. Eager for new experiences Mury was most cooperative. She uncomplainingly endured the pullings and tuggings necessary to reduce her matted hair to order. At long last, Rona surveyed the startling transformation, and jubilantly took her to gaze in her reflection in a pool of water.
Here, Hamer, Arnot and Dunstable found them. The meal for which they were bound was temporarily forgotten as they were confronted by the results of Rona’s hard work. Of the tree, Thane alone had been awa
re of the person that lay behind the dirt and towsled hair.
“The cure has started, master,” said Thane, quick to turn Rona’s work to advantage.
“Indeed, she will soon be fit to be your woman Gor Don. I wouldn’t mind her myself …,” seeing Rona about to turn furiously on him, he hastily finished up, “… if my heart had not already beheld greater beauty elsewhere.”
Rona smiled again, but Thane felt a stir of jealousy as he remembered how Mury had watched Gor Don. It was ridiculous he told himself sharply, being unable to talk with her, to reach her in any way—yes, it was impossible to imagine that romance lay in that direction.
Mury could not believe that the face that stared back at her was hew own. When Rona finally convinced her, she began to realise that she more nearly resembled Rona, in spite of her dark, straight, tresses of hair, than the woman of the tribes she had met before. She tried to communicate this idea to Rona. The latter, being thoroughly alert to her mind, caught it, and agreed.
It was almost time for sleep when Mury, now more adept at forming pictures, enlarged upon the subject. It was quite obvious that she was intelligent; picture after picture poured forth, drawing conclusions from the memory of her Klaatan mother, producing likenesses of the few Klaatan people whom she could remember seeing—including two who resembled Kenton and Wormald. These last two she was hesitant over. She knew there was something different, and was unable to quite classify them as Klaatans, in spite of their clothes.
Rona was elated. Mury had seen the two captives at some time or other. She formed a series of pictures designed to ask what had happened to them. It was a kind of ‘now you see them, now you dont’ game. Laughing, Mury took it from her and showed Rona the two men being escorted into the ‘Cursed Region’, the area that had once been marshes.
The tribesmen looked wary. They did not venture far before they came to a mound, which was almost hidden in vegetation. One who had been there before took the lead and forced his way through, revealing the mouth of a small cave. The opening was so small that the men had to bend almost double to get through.
Pushing the captives inside, they rolled a large boulder in front of the opening, almost completely obscuring it. Rona was amazed when all the tribesmen departed, leaving the captives unguarded. She asked why.
Mury understood the picture query and replied with scenes of the priest, Hoonin, mixing drugs in the captives food, then hypnotising them. Rona wondered how Mury knew all this, and received pictures of Mury secretly following the tribesmen. Shut up in her own silent world, any unusual activity excited her interest. Unable to ask, she was in the habit of satisfying her own curiosity. Earlier kicks and cuffs had taught her caution; and she now moved as carefully as the wild animals when stalking her prey.
Thane was jubilant at the news Rona communicated to him. The next problem was how to get away without raising suspicion.
“I don’t fancy travelling at night. And we should have to think of a very convincing excuse to leave without attendants. Then there’s always the possibility someone will follow us. If they should later connect us with the escape of their prisoners—even if they don’t actually see us help them—some, if not all, of our prestige will be gone. They will probably connect us with the Klaatans,” said Dunstable, reluctant to retreat from the position he had made for himself.
“Our most important aim is to rescue Bruce and Rikky. Your founding of a new religion is a long-term plan. Anyway, I should not have thought a man of your ideals would want to base a religion on the tricks and lies you have practised on these people.”
“It is the only way to reach them. Later, I hope it will be possible to discard the magic. I suppose you’re right. But it does seem a pity to cast it all away, when I’ve made better progress than I dared hope. If word gets round that I’m connected with the Klaatans, I shall find it very hard to get a hearing again,” answered Dunstable, sadly.
Seeing how much it meant to him, Thane suddenly had another idea: “It’s just possible we can disguise your connection with the affair. Suppose you stay and act as cover for me. If things can be explained to Mury through Rona, perhaps she will agree to guide me to them. As Hamer thinks you’ve got designs on her, you can pretend we have run away together, when our absence is noticed. If we get caught there is a chance that the punishment will be in your hands—if they think I’ve pinched your girl. Anyway, if we are caught in the act, or afterwards suspected, you can claim I hood-winked you too.”
“I don’t like leaving you to face the danger alone. But it does seem a feasible plan.”
“Of course, it is. As a matter of fact, you face more danger than I. You’ll be staying within their reach. Whereas, if I get clear, I shall endeavour to reach Ranmor, with Bruce and Rikky, as soon as possible.”
“That seems the best thing to do. I should not wish you to return for me. I’ve cast my lot in with these people. I intend to stay with them, if possible. There’s nothing for me in the city. Later, it might be possible to return for a visit. But, just at the moment, I would rather face death than give up the small foothold I have gained.”
“That’s it then. If Mury agrees, we shall be parting for a considerable time, if not for good. I have a feeling you have found your place in this world. I wish you the best of luck in fulfilling your mission.”
Arnot and Dunstable made the leave-taking then, as they knew there would not be time when the final moment came.
Rona explained to Mury exactly what was wanted. She made it clear to her that she would not be able to return to the tribe, but would have to go to Ranmor with Thane—if this was, she agreed to lead him to the prisoners. This was the critical point. If she was truly fascinated by Gor Don, or considered herself bound to him in any way, she might refuse.
Mury hardly hesitated; Ranmor, the place where people spoke with their minds, where her handicap would not completely cut her off from others. It was a dream she would do anything to attain.
Chapter 17
Shortly before dawn, Thane felt a gentle touch on his face. He was instantly awake, to find Mury ready to go. Following the custom of the tribesmen, he had slept in his clothes, so had few preparations to make. Without waking Dunstable, they crept quietly from the hut.
Knowing where the watchmen were posted, it was an easy matter to avoid them. They were there to keep enemies out, not members of the tribe in. Thane and Mury followed a path into the darkness, as far as they dared. Then they climbed a tree, to await the first streaks of dawn—being thankful that they had so far escaped the attentions of night-roaming beasts.
As the dawn came, they were able to confirm their hopes that they were out of sight of the camp. With luck, it would be hours before their absence was noticed. When they had descended the tree, Mury smiled and beckoned Thane to follow. In spite of the seriousness of their mission, he was almost singing for joy. With the smile, she seemed to notice him personally. Suddenly, his spirits fell as he remembered his-disguise. She would think him old, and little different from the other tribesmen, except for the reflected glory of his association with Gor Don.
It was difficult to keep up with her over the rough ground. Half-way there, he sank exhausted on to a grassy bank. It was no use calling Mury to stop, when she could not hear; but she seemed to sense something was wrong and glanced back. In a few moments she was sitting beside him, making signs that she understood and would wait until he had recovered.
Thane produced some of his meal tablets. Mury accepted hers without hesitation. H wondered just how much Rona had told her, and was tempted to remove his disguise. Remembering the care the Klaatans had take to ensure that it could not easily be removed, his rashness left him.
After a short rest he found himself able to continue, this time more slowly. Shortly before noon, they were skirting the edge of the ‘Cursed Region’. Reaching the trough that had formerly been the bed of the River Lea, hey began to follow it into the territory. They had reached a point where the banks were high on either side,
and where their outstretched arms would have been able to span the distance between them, when Mury, who was slightly ahead, gave a cry and recoiled.
Narrowly avoiding a collision with her, Thane pushed her behind him. At the same time, he looked ahead, to see what had startled her. Expecting to see something large, he neglected to look down at the ground, until something struck his foot. A quick tug by Mury saved him, just as the creature reared its head to strike.
It missed and, as Thane regained his balance, he found himself facing a monstrous snake-like creature. No, it was more like an enormous eel, he decided quickly. While it did not approach the size of the boa-constrictors, or anacondas, that had existed a short while before his own time, when he remembered the strength of a normal-sized eel, he knew he was facing a formidable enemy.
As he raised the small blaster he had brought with him, the creature seemed to spring into the air with a lash of its tail. He fired as it landed on top of him.
The wind was knocked out of him as he fell, and a warm stickiness covered him, yet still the thing thrashed about. Bruised and shaken, he managed to roll from under it and lay there, gasping, as its struggles grew weaker.
Mury, who had watched, horrified, fully expected Thane to be dead. Covered with blood, and unable to move, he certainly appeared to be badly injured. She was startled to find his eyes open. He tried to speak to her, between gasps for breath, forgetting that she could not hear. She looked for water, to wash away some of the blood, and remembered a small pool they had passed a few yards back.
She hesitated before tearing some cloth off her new clothes, but there was nothing else which would convey the water. Soaking it, she hurried back and was amazed to find Thane laboriously climbing to his feet. The look of concern on her face made him wish he could reassure her. Smiling, though still breathing heavily, he took the cloth from her, and made it quite clear that the blood was not his. A sharp pain in his chest made him wonder how many ribs ere broken, but his arms and legs seemed quite whole, though badly bruised.