At the last moment, the two towers seemed to veer to the sides as they shot down outside the castle walls, tall, bright turrets stretching up above the top of the keep. Still the thunder bellowed. Then the engines cut out, and silence struck the courtyard like a physical blow.
Then a double thunderclap split the night as two huge white balls of flame exploded above the courtyard from the ship's guns. A vast, raw scream of fear raked up from the packed mass of men, and a cleared circle appeared magically in the center of the court as Lords and churls alike jammed back frantically toward the walls, clambering over their fellows to get away from the juggernaut that must surely fall on them.
Dirk took a long, deep breath. It was definitely a most glorious way of stopping a battle.
Then he realized that it wasn't. The Lords knew what spaceships were; they would come out of it quickly, and turn to slaughter dazed churls.
Just then, DeCade's voice roared in his ear, fill- . ing the courtyard: "Behold your King!"
Every head in the courtyard swung about, staring. DeCade gestured, and two outlaws swung the idiot King high for all eyes to see. He screamed and struggled, kicking wildly, trying to break free, then went limp, sobbing in terror. Looking down,
Dirk saw all the Lord's faces loosen, saw the certainty of doom settle over them.
With one ragged voice, the churls cheered; and Dirk saw the Lords' faces hardening again, in despair.
Thunder split the night again; a searing white fireball exploded, chopping a watchtower off the battlements.
Silence held the night again; and the look of doom came back to the Lords' faces, as they realized how high above them the gun turrets stood, how easily they could fire down on them.
Then one of the tall towers spoke, in a booming, gargantuan voice. "At your pleasure, Grandmaster DeCade! What would you have us do?"
DeCade glared down at the packed Lords, waiting, and Dirk saw understanding begin in their eyes. DeCade saw it, too. Only then did he speak, in a voice that carried to every inch of the yard: "If these Lords do not do as I command-burn out this courtyard!"
The churl's eyes stretched wide in disbelief, but the Lords looked on DeCade's set, granite face and knew he was as good as his threat.
After a long, deathly pause, the great ship spoke again, in a voice weary with resignation: "As you command, Grandmaster DeCade. "
And now, at last, Dirk saw naked fear on the Lords' faces.
Almost quietly, DeCade commanded, "Milords-throw down your swords, and step to the center of the yard, with your hands on your heads."
An awed mutter passed through the churls, growing, gaining glee.
DeCade chopped it off. "If any churl touches a Lord who has laid down his sword, I will kill him!"
The churls were silent, shrinking back in superstitious terror.
DeCade surveyed them, and nodded. "At your pleasure, milords-now!"
Silence held the courtyard a moment longer. Dirk felt as though he were standing on the edge of a razor blade.
Then a sword rang on the cobbles, and a Lord stepped into the center of the courtyard, his hands on his head. There was a moment of waiting. Then another sword clattered down, then another and another, till the air was filled with the clatter of steel, and the Lords filed into the center of the yard, their hands clasped on their heads, sick despair on their faces. The churls pressed back, leaving room for them, eyeing the stony figure of DeCade nervously, till the center of the yard was packed with an unmoving mass of Lords, ringed in by bright steel.
A tall, broad-shouldered Tradesman elbowed his way through to stand under the balcony. Hugh. "They are all there, DeCade. No Lord remains living outside this circle."
DeCade nodded slowly. "Take them into the great hall, and set a strong guard upon thembeginning with these." He nodded to the ten outlaws behind him, then turned to the two who held the King. "Take him in with his fellows-and make certain none harm him."
The outlaws nodded, almost genuflecting, their faces filled with awe, and turned away to find their way back through the castle to the great hall.
Below, Hugh was mustering his most trusted men with harsh, barking shouts. They formed two files, clearing a path between the packed Lords and the door of the keep. Then, one by one, the Lords began the long march down that gamut of churls to the keep, their backs prickling with the expectation of a sudden laser shot-but not a man touched them.
Peaceably, and in good order, the defeated Lords filed back into the King's castle.
Then, finally, DeCade's whole body seemed to loosen. He bowed his head, gave a long hissing sigh, and collapsed.
Dirk dropped to one knee beside the fallen giant, panic clawing at his throat. DeCade lay slumped against the wall, mouth slack, eyes closed. Dirk slapped his face lightly, quickly. "Come out of it, man! It's all over; you won! Come on, wake up!"
DeCade's eyes opened, staring up at Dirk-and right on through him. Suddenly his whole body stiffened, rigid as a board, muscle straining against muscle, as DeCade swung his staff high in both hands and brought it crashing down across his knee.
The broken halves of the staff fell clattering to the paving stones. The huge body relaxed, and the giant leaned forward, resting his head in his hands.
Dirk hovered over him, almost frantic, not knowing what to do. Finally he grasped the man's shoulder, and shook him. "What's the matter? What happened? Are you okay now? Wake upyou won!"
Slowly, then, the huge head rolled to the side, looking up at him with a queer, sad smile. "Yes, I won-but I've lost, too."
Dirk looked into his eyes and felt a ghostly wind pass through him, chilling him to the marrow.
The arrogance was substantially lessened, and the eyes were no longer. compelling. And the voice wasn't as deep and harsh any more.
Dirk nodded slowly. "Welcome back, Gar."
CHAPTER 16
The moon had risen; picking out the glints of metal and jewels in the clothing of the lordly prisoners who stood huddled together in the center of the courtyard again. High above them, Lapin sat on a jury-rigged scaffold, hands flat on her knees. Hugh and the Guildmaster stood to one side of her. Now and again, they glanced furtively at the shadows of the northwest corner, where Gar sat hunched over, staring at the broken fragments of the staff.
Dirk stood apart from both, with Captain Domigny and his officers. From time to time, he glanced at Madelon where she sat at the foot of the scaffold with Father Fletcher and several other men and women whom Dirk had never seen. He assumed they were other junior "officers" and provincial captains.
"We cannot kill so many out of hand," Lapin said with a flat finality that left nothing open to debate. "What, then, shall we do with them?"
The Guildmaster growled, "There are some who do deserve death, Lapin-the slowest and most painful death we can devise."
"Must we try them one by one?" Hugh demanded. "It will take a year; and, like as not, some with slick tongues will escape unscathed when they truly deserve some great punishment."
Captain Domigny stepped forward. "If I may speak here-"
"You may not," the Guildmaster said curtly. The Captain stared, speechless. Then he scowled and started to speak again.
Lapin turned her head slowly toward him. "Do not misunderstand, sky-man-we are grateful for all you have done. Indeed, we could have done nothing without you, and well we know it. But you have not suffered as we have suffered; most of your lives you have been free, and away from this sink of misery. You have not tried to feed a family beneath a Lord's heavy hand; you have not seen your wife or your daughter taken for a lordling's lust, nor your son taken to the arena. You can not know how these things stand here, nor hove the people feel-not truly."
"I think I might have a halfway decent idea." Dirk's voice crackled through the courtyard. "Just in the last week, I've come a hairsbreadth from death a dozen times. I've been in the arena. I've run and hidden like an outlaw. And this isn't the first time. I've served seven missions on . this plan
et, and I've shaved death every time. We all have. And there's a little matter of the rest of my life-all our lives." He gestured to his companions. "We've spent our lives for one thing only; to keep the line between Melange and the rest of the universe in churl hands so that, when this day came, the Wizard's tall towers could come dropping down from the skies. Nice, safe, easy jobcrammed cheek by jowl with twenty other men in a fragile shell of a ship, floating in emptiness, where any one of a hundred tiny things could go wrong and kill us. Our dangers have been as great as yours, our trials as painful. Few of us have married-why do you think we always brought up new recruits? We knew a wife and children would divide our loyalty, and we couldn't risk that-we devoted our lives completely and solely to someday-someday-winning your freedom! We condemned ourselves to lonely lives full of backbreaking work, for one purpose, and one purpose only-your freedom!"
"I know you have been tried, perhaps as sorely as we," Lapin said judiciously, "but they were different trials, different pains-and, withal, you all were free."
Dirk's lips pressed into a thin, straight line. "Free! Never a one of us was free! We've been slaves to you, all of you, all our lives-and the lives of the men who came before us-for five hundred years! Working for this day-the day when the churls would be free and we could come back to our home!"
"And now you tell us our home is not here for us to come back to!"
"We do." He could hear the pain in Lapin's voice; nevertheless, she spoke the words. "For the fact remains, you have become apart from us, Dirk Dulain, you and all the sky-men. You are no longer really of us, here. The things you want are no longer the things we want."
Beside her, Hugh nodded. "We do not deny you home-you may settle among us; we will give you lands, and any aid that we can, and shares of the lordlings' loot to start merchant shops and workshops-we know, at least, that we need that, and that none but you can begin them. We will build you schools where you may teach; we will give you honor and respect --"
"But you will not give us a voice in your government," Domigny said grimly.
Hugh met his eyes and nodded. "We will not." But Domigny wasn't looking at him. He had stepped apart, arms folded, staring at Lapin.
She returned his stare, unwavering.
Dirk stepped up to him, hissing in his ear, "They can't do this, Captain! All our work, all our waiting-"
"They can do it," Domigny ground out. "They are the rightful government."
"But we've got ships, we've got cannon! Give the word, and we'll-"
"We will not kill our own," Domigny said heavily, still watching Lapin.
"Yes, and she knows it, too; she's taking advantage of our goodness! There's no justice to it, Captain-not after all our years, all our work, just for them!"
Then Domigny turned, with a sardonic smile. "What did you expect, Dulain? Gratitude?" Dirk could only stare at him.
"And what of me?" demanded a rumbling voice from the shadows.
All eyes swung to the northwest corner.
Gar stood, the broken halves of the staff in his hands, glaring at Lapin.
He strode forward to the foot of the scaffold. "Me, what of me? Shall I also have no voice here among you?"
"You are Decade," Madelon breathed, eyes shining and worshipful, and Lapin echoed her: "You are Decade. Your voice shall always be heard." She rose with the majesty of a mountain, stepping to the side. "Come, take the seat of judgment here among us; it is yours, as is the final voice in any decision of our affairs, if you wish it. You are Decade."
"I am not," Gar said harshly.
Total silence hit the courtyard. Every eye fastened on the giant.
Slowly, he raised the broken halves of the staff. "Decade lived in this. It is broken; he is gone. I am only myself again, the man you knew as Gar."
Lapin's eyes widened, and Madelon's were huge and glistening with. tragedy. But as Dirk watched, she managed a tremulous smile through her tears, gazing up at Gar with warmth and trust.
"There is more," Gar said grimly, with a bitter smile. "I have said it; you have known it: I am an outworlder. Now-have I a voice in your councils?"
"You have not," Lapin said, as though the words were dragged out of her.
Gar nodded, as though pleased with the bitter answer. "No voice for the bearer? No voice for the man who gave you victory by bearing DeCade within him?"
"Cease to torment us!" Lapin cried. "You know that you merit it, but you know we cannot give it!" Gar nodded slowly, drawing himself up, mouth a grim, satisfied line. "Yes, I know it, and now I will free you. Know that my name is d'Armand, and that I am the son of a cadet branch of a noble house!"
The churls froze, staring at him. Then a slow, anguished hiss escaped from the Lords. Their guards looked up, bracing their weapons; but the burning in the Lords' eyes faded back to a dull glow, and the guards relaxed.
Lapin still stared down at the giant. Finally, she demanded, "Where is DeCade?".
"His task was done, his thirst slaked; for a moment, he was weak, his purpose gone. In that moment, I rose up, burst out of the lock he had on me, and broke his staff. He has gone, faded-back to his centuries of sleep." Gar held up the broken halves of the staff. "I have my own life again; I am master of my own body again."
He stood in the midst of a sea of burning eyes. A low, ugly mutter began around him and grew, swelling to fill the courtyard. But Lapin held up a hand, still staring down stonily at Gar; and the mutter slackened, faded, and died. Into the stillness, the huge woman spoke. "If DeCade is gone, he is gone. Was it needful to break his staff?"
"It was; for if I had not, I would be a prisoner within myself still. It was needful; for if any man lesser than I sought to take up this staff, DeCade would have killed him."
Hugh and the Guildmaster glared down at him. Gar stared back, unmoved.
So did Lapin. Slowly, she held out her hand. "Then give us the parts of his staff."
Dirk stiffened, electrified by a vision of churl after churl trying to mend the staff and being fried by a lifetime of memories of a very passionate man.
Hugh echoed Lapin. "Give us the staff!" And his guerrilla outlaws stepped forward, toward Gar. The big man whirled, setting his back against a balk of timber, holding up the two staff-ends like mated clubs.
The outlaws hesitated, eyeing the clubs in awed fascination.
The courtyard held silence while they stared at one another, at an impasse.
Then Gar smiled sourly. He stepped forward and knelt, laying the two halves of the staff on the ground, rose, and stepped back. "Let him who wishes take them up!"
The courtyard was still. Every man stared at the staff-ends with avarice, and fear. Even Hugh, looking down, took a half-step forward, then hesitated.
The moment held taut; then, slowly, Dirk could feel the tension begin to bleed away.
Gar straightened, relaxing a little, nodding with a sour smile. "I had thought not." He turned back to the scaffold, raising his eyes to Lapin. "I am an outworlder, like these to whom you have just denied voice-but I have borne your hero within me; he was no light load, and without him, you would all still be bondsmen. You would have no freedom without me, but you have denied me a voice. Now I ask: am I welcome among you?"
Madelon started up, eyes full of tears, her lips parted; but she hesitated, then sank back down in misery.
"No," Lapin pronounced, and the pain was harsh in her voice. "We owe greatly to you, but we cannot have you among us, for you are Lords' blood."
"So I had thought," Gar said grimly. He turned to look out at the assembled churls. "I have come among you. I have fought and bled for you, and you have cast me out. But I have accomplished my purpose, and now I will go." In one quick motion, he knelt, caught up the broken staff, and stood straight again. "And I will take this staff with me, for it is a thing of greater power than any of you know."
A frenzied mutter started up, but Gar barked out into it, "He who thinks he can stop me, let him try!."
On the scaffold above, Hug
h leveled a laser pistol; but Lapin struck his hand down. "Fool! You might hit the staff!"
Good point, Dirk thought. If a laser beam caught that circuitry, who knew what would happen? It would be instructive to find out; but personally, Dirk had no wish to determine it empirically.
The churls had all seen Lapin's action and seemed to be equally fearful; lasers were halfraised, then lowered again.
Gar surveyed them, and nodded once, with a sardonic smile. Then, slowly, he began to stalk across the great courtyard. He approached the skirmish line of outlaws; they tensed, swords coming up.
Gar kept coming, clubs raised, ready for the fight, eyes glowing.
The churls stood steadfast, but their eyes were sick.
Gar was ten feet from them. Five feet.
At the last moment, Hugh signed to the outlaws. They gradually lowered their swords, and stepped aside to leave a channel for Gar to pass through, with surly growls, but they looked relieved.
So did Hugh.
A long, hissing sigh passed through the courtyard.
Gar stalked on toward the main gate, smiling grimly. He came to the front rank of the crowd; at the last second, men pressed back from him, and a passageway opened for him through the throng, opening only a few feet ahead of him as he strode on; but in a minute, it was a long avenue, stretched out to the gate.
Gar stalked down that avenue, passed beneath the portcullis, out across the drawbridge, and was gone.
Madelon stared after him, eyes huge, huddled in on herself, forlorn.
Dirk saw, and the bile rose in his throat.
He rounded on Captain Domigny, demanding, "Will you do as he has done, Captain? Or will you stay here, to slave for the people you've freed, and be a second-class citizen?"
Captain Domigny turned slowly, looking Dirk full in the eye. "I'll stay."
Dirk's mouth hooked down in contempt. "Is this what we've waited for, then? Why we've worked our whole lives, what we've given up house and home for-to be highly trained serfs? `Oh, surely, sir, we'll set up industries for you! Certainly, madame, we'll organize your commerce. Thank you, thank you kindly, for giving us the chance! Schools? Oh, delighted! We'll start them right away-no problem at all. All the things you can't do for yourself, we'll be oh-so-glad to do for you. Just give us a pat on the head now and then, and maybe a bone, and we're happy!' Is this why we gave up our lives?"
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