"What have you to do with me, Yarrod?"
"I don't know yet." He studied Stark in the cluster-light. He was a tall man, wide in the shoulder, bony and muscular. Stark guessed that he was a warrior by trade, masquerading for some reason as something else. "Perhaps I'm curious to know why Gelmar would want to kill an off-worlder in a place where killing is forbidden even to the Farers."
From the sea there came a wild howling of grief and rage that set Stark's hackles bristling.
"Hear that?" said Yarrod. "They've found the body. Now Gelmar will know that you killed the thing, and he'll wonder whether or not you died also. He's bound to try and find out. Would you like to be hunted through these ruins by the Farers, or will you trust me to give you safe hiding?"
"I seem not to have much choice," said Stark, and shrugged. But he went warily behind Yarrod.
The tone of the howling changed as some of the creatures, from the distant sounds, began to clamber out onto the bar.
"What are they? Beast or human?"
"Both. A thousand or two years ago some people got the idea that the only salvation was for man to return to the Sea-Our-Mother, from whose womb we came. And they did it. They had their genes altered by some method that was still known then, to speed up the adaptation. And there they are, losing more of their humanness with every generation, and happier than we."
He increased his pace, and Stark matched it; the savage howling grew fainter in his ears. The consul might doubt the story that was told about the Children of the Sea; Stark did not. Not anymore.
As though reading his thoughts, Yarrod chuckled. "Skaith is full of surprises. You've another one just ahead."
High on the bank above the ford of the river there was part of a barrel arch, intact overhead, open at both ends, which in that gentle climate scarcely mattered. Drooping vines acted as curtains. There was a fire burning inside, and the half dozen men and women Stark had seen before with Yarrod sat by it in a close group, heads together, arms intertwined. They neither moved nor looked up as Stark and Yarrod entered.
"Pretty good, aren't they?" said Yarrod. "Or do you know?"
Stark clawed back through his mental file on Skaith. "They're pretending to be a pod. And you're supposed to be a pod-master."
A pod, according to the file, was a collection of people so thoroughly sensitized by a species of group therapy that they no longer existed as individuals but only as interdependent parts of a single organism. The pod-master trained them, and then kept them fed and washed and combed until such time as the hour arrived for Total Fulfillment. That was when one of the components died and the whole organism went, finding escape at last. The average life of a pod was four years. Then the pod-master started over again with another group.
"Pod-masters can go anywhere," said Yarrod. "They're almost as holy as the Wandsmen." He turned to the group. "All right, friends, you may breathe again, but not for long. Gelmar and his rabble will be coming soon, looking for our guest. Breca, go keep watch on the ford, will you?"
The group broke up. A tall woman, evidently Breca, went past them, giving Stark a strangely penetrating look, and then vanished without a sound through the vines. Stark studied the faces of the remaining five in the firelight. They were strong faces, alert and wary, intensely curious, as though he might mean something to them.
One of the five, a big man with a contentious air and a jealous eye, whom Stark disliked on sight, asked Yarrod, "What was all that howling from the bar?"
Yarrod nodded at Stark. "He has killed a Child of the Sea."
"And lived?" He sounded incredulous.
"I saw it," said Yarrod curtly. "Now tell us, Stark. Why did Gelmar set the Farers on you?"
"Partly because I had been asking about Ashton. And partly because of a prophecy."
Now they sighed sharply, as the Farer girl had.
"What prophecy?"
"Someone called Gerrith, the wise woman of Irnan, prophesied that an off-worlder would come and destroy the Lords Protector because of Ashton." He looked at them shrewdly. "But you know all about that, don't you?"
"We're all from Irnan," said Yarrod. "We waited and waited, but Ashton never came, and then Gerrith made her prophecy and the Wandsmen killed her. What was Ashton to you?"
"What is a father to a son, a brother to a brother?" Stark moved, easing the pains of his body, but there was no ease for the deeper pain, and they saw that and were disturbed. Stark's eyes held a lambent light.
"You people of Irnan decided to leave this planet, which I can readily understand. You applied through the GU consul at Skeg, keeping the matter very confidential, for help. The Ministry of Planetary Affairs agreed to find you a suitable place on another world and to supply the ships for your emigration. Ashton came to Skaith from the Ministry to discuss this with your leaders and make the final arrangements. As someone said, more fool he—because the whole thing had stopped being confidential. Who talked?"
"None of us," said Yarrod. "Perhaps someone at the consulate. Perhaps Ashton was clumsy."
"Gelmar took him on the Irnan road."
"Did Gelmar tell you that?"
"I don't think he meant to. He had other plans for me, and the information would have been breath wasted. So I took him with me into the sea and gave him a choice."
Yarrod groaned. "You took him into the sea. Don't you know that it is forbidden, absolutely forbidden on pain of death, to lay hands upon or interfere with a Wandsman in any way?"
"I was already under pain of death, and it seemed to me that in any case Gelmar needed a lesson in manners."
They stared at him. Then one of them laughed, and then they all laughed except the big man with the jealous eye who only showed his teeth. Yarrod said, "You may be the Dark Man at that."
The curtain of vines rustled faintly as Breca returned.
"There are people," she said, "coming to the ford. About twenty of them, and in a hurry."
4
Immediately the group fell silent. Yarrod began making swift gestures. "In here," he said in Stark's ear, and motioned to a fissure in the stonework at one side, barely large enough to accept a body the size of Stark's and of no size at all to permit any motion, offensive or defensive.
"Make up your mind," said Yarrod. "In a moment more we'll have to give you up to save ourselves."
Stark accepted the inevitable and slid himself into the crevice. The aperture was closed within seconds by the meager possessions of the Irnanese—leather bottles, sacks of meal and dried meat for the journey, a spare shift apiece—and by the pod itself, as the Irnanese formed their tight group beside the heap of dunnage. Stark had some difficulty breathing and he could not see anything, but he had been in worse places.
Provided the Irnanese did not sell him out. But he could not do much about that. He settled himself to endure.
From outside the vault he could hear no more than a muddy crowd sound. Then Gelmar entered the vault, and Stark could hear him quite clearly speaking to Yarrod.
"May your people have peace and quick Fulfillment, Master. I am Gelmar of Skeg."
Courtesy required that Yarrod should now identify himself in turn. He did so, giving a totally false name and place of origin and ending with a gravely unctuous, "What may I do for you, my son?"
"Has anyone passed this way? A man, an off-worlder, fresh from the sea, perhaps hurt?"
"No," said Yarrod, his voice steady and unconcerned. "I've seen no one. Besides, who escapes from the sea? I've heard the Children hunting within the hour."
"Perhaps the Master is lying," said a girl's voice spitefully, and Stark knew it well. "He was at the ford. He saw us."
"And your people threw stones at us," said Yarrod, sternly reproachful. "My pod became frightened, and it has cost me much effort to calm it. Even a Farer should have more respect."
"One must forgive them," said Gelmar. "They are the children of the Lords Protector. Do you lack for anything? Food? Wine?"
"There is enough. Perhaps tomorr
ow I shall come to Skeg and ask."
"It will be given gladly."
There were some parting formalities. Gelmar and the girl apparently left the vault, and in a moment Stark could hear whoops and cries as the Farers went haring away through the ruins.
Looking for me, Stark thought, and he was glad of his close crevice. A sorry rabble they were; but one against twenty, and the one unarmed, made for unpleasant odds.
For a time nothing happened except that Yarrod began to lead his pod in a kind of litany, a murmurous chant that almost put Stark to sleep. These people must have practiced well. There had to be a powerful reason to make them do it, and he thought he knew what it was.
The chanting faded gently to a small contented humming, and then Stark heard voices and sounds outside, returning.
Yarrod's voice came clearly. "You didn't find him?"
Rather distantly, Gelmar answered, "There was no sign. But the Children have been on the bar."
"No doubt they have already shared him, then."
"No doubt. Still, if you should see him . . . The man is a lawbreaker and dangerous. He laid hands on me and, being an off-worlder, he might not respect your robe."
"I have no fear, my son," said Yarrod, laying it on just a bit too much, Stark thought. "What do we all wish for but Fulfillment?"
"True," said Gelmar. "Good night, Master."
"Good night. And please to take your unruly flock with you. Each time the tranquility of my pod is disturbed, the day of release is that much delayed."
Gelmar made some answer, and then there were more sounds, of people going away.
After what seemed a very long wait, Yarrod lifted aside the bundles. "Keep your voice down," he cautioned. "I think Gelmar left a few behind him. It's like trying to count vermin so I can't be sure, but I didn't see the girl."
Stark stood up and stretched. The pod had broken up again, and the woman Breca was missing, presumably on watch.
"Now then," said Yarrod brusquely, "we have a decision to make."
They all considered Stark.
"You believe that he is the Dark Man?" This was the big Irnanese who had spoken before with doubt.
"I think it likely. Gelmar appeared certain."
"But suppose he is not the Dark Man. Suppose we rush back to Irnan only to learn that. Then all our work is wasted and our mission is thrown away for nothing."
There were mutters of assent.
"That's possible, Halk. What do you suggest?"
"That we let him get to Irnan by himself. If he is truly the Dark Man, he'll make it."
"I don't particularly want to go to Irnan," said Stark, with a certain dangerous cheerfulness. "Ashton's not there."
"And well we know that," said Yarrod. "Where is he?"
"The Citadel of the Lords Protector, at Worldheart, wherever that is."
"North, in any case," said Yarrod. "And in any case, you must go to Irnan."
"Why?"
"So that Gerrith, the daughter of Gerrith, may say if you are truly the Dark Man of the prophecy."
"Oh. Gerrith had a daughter."
"All wise women have daughters if they can possibly manage it. Otherwise the precious genes are lost. And you see, Stark, we must know, or we cannot follow you. And without us and our help, you'll find it hard to do what you've come for."
"He'll find it hard anyway," said Halk, "but he might as well cooperate." He smiled at Stark. "You can't get away from Skaith now. Not through the starport. And there is no other way."
"I know that. Since I have no wish to leave, it scarcely matters, does it?" Stark turned to Yarrod. "Perhaps I can solve the immediate problem. Obviously you couldn't have come here to rescue me, so you must have had another reason. What was it?"
Yarrod fairly snarled. "We of Irnan are no longer allowed to travel without a special permit from the Wandsmen, and we didn't think they'd give us one for this journey. That's why we're flapping about in this silly disguise, so that we could come to Skeg and perhaps find out what the Galactic Union intends to do about us, if anything. I don't suppose they told you that at Pax? They seem to have told you everything else."
"As a matter of fact, they did."
The whole group moved a step closer.
"What will they do? Will they send someone?"
"They have sent someone," Stark said. "Me."
There was a sort of stunned silence. Then Halk asked, "Officially?" The sneer was audible.
"No. They've tried officially to reopen contact with Skaith, and got nowhere."
"So they sent you. Who is your master, then?"
Stark took Halk's meaning and grinned. "No one. I'm a mercenary by trade. Since I was coming anyway, the Minister asked me to find out what I could about matters here and report to him—if I survived. I take no orders from him, and he takes no responsibility for me."
"Then," said Yarrod, "that is the best we can hope for?"
"Short of an invasion, yes. And the Galactic Union dislikes force. So if you want freedom you'll have to fight for it yourselves." Stark shrugged. "You must have realized that Skaith is not the most important planet in the galaxy."
"Except to us who live on it," said Yarrod. "Very well, then. We go back to Irnan. Agreed?"
Even Halk had to admit that, satisfactory or not, they had got what they came for.
"We mustn't go too quickly," said Yarrod, frowning. "That would give us away. Gelmar will expect me in Skeg tomorrow, and he'll surely keep some sort of watch on this side of the river."
Halk said, "What about Stark? We can hardly add him to the pod."
"He must go on ahead of us, tonight. He can wait at the—"
Breca came quickly through the vines, motioning for silence. "I hear them, coming this way."
"Stark—"
"Not in that hole again, thank you, though it was a good hole and welcome at the time. Did they search the roof?"
"They did." The pod began organizing itself, soundlessly and in haste.
"Then they'll likely not bother again." Stark went out through the rearward arch, letting the vines fall back quietly into place. He stood for a moment, head cocked. He could hear people moving about, some distance away. If they thought they were being stealthy they were much mistaken. The beautiful sky glowed with its islands of milky fire. In the cluster-light, Stark studied the broken masonry of the vault and then began to climb.
5
The top of the vault offered reasonable cover, with crumbling bits of wall still standing above the edges. Stark was not so much concerned now, since the main body of Farers had gone, but it would be wiser to avoid being seen.
He had no more than settled himself when Baya and two others came in view. Gelmar might have left them behind on purpose, after the search had failed, in the hope of catching somebody off guard. Or perhaps this scheme had been Baya's idea.
She was leading the other two, both men, who were obviously very bored and as pettish as babies. One was tall and spindly, totally naked except for body-paint that looked as if he had rolled in it. His hair and beard were full of rubbish. The other man was shorter and fatter, and that was all Stark could see of him because he was completely wrapped about with lengths of bright cloth that covered even his face. The folds were stuck full of flowers.
"Let's go back now, Baya," said the tall one, turning toward the ford. "You've seen there's no one here."
"The Dark Man died in the sea," said the shorter one, his voice squeaking impatiently through his veils. "The Children shared him. How could it be otherwise?"
Baya lifted her shoulders as though a breath of cold air had touched her. She shook her head.
"I spoke to him," she said. "I touched him. There was something about him. Strength, a terrible strength. He killed a Child of the Sea, remember?"
"You're being silly," said the short one, and hopped up and down like a rabbit. "Girl-silly. You saw his muscles, and you want him to be alive. You're sorry he didn't love you before he died."
"Hold you
r tongue," said Baya. "Maybe he's dead, and maybe he isn't, and if he isn't, someone is hiding him. Stop whining and look around."
"But we've already searched—"
The rubbishy one sighed. "We'd better do as she says, I suppose. You know what a terrible temper she has."
They wandered off, out of Stark's sight but not out of his hearing. Baya continued to stand where she was, frowning at the flickerings of firelight that shone from the vault. Then she sauntered over, her insolent body agleam in the light of the Three Ladies. Stark lost sight of her, too, since she was directly beneath him, but he could hear the vines rustle as she swept them aside.
"Master . . ."
Yarrod's angry voice sounded from the vault. "You have no business here. Get out."
"But, Master, I'm only curious," said Baya. "I might even want to join a pod myself one day, when I'm tired of being a Farer. Tell me about them, Master. Is it true that they forget about everything, even love?"
The vines swished as she entered the vault and let them fall behind her.
The voices from within were now too muffled for Stark to understand the words. In a very few minutes a squeal of pain came from Baya, and the vines thrashed wildly as she and Yarrod came through them. Yarrod had his hand wound cruelly in her hair, and he marched her, crying and struggling, away from the vault. He took her to the river bank and pushed her in.
"You've done enough mischief for one day," he said. "If you come near my pod again, I'll make you regret it." And he spat, and added, "Farer trash! I have no need of you."
He left her and strode back to the vault. She stood in the shallow water of the ford and shook her fists at him, screaming.
"You live on the bounty of the Lords Protector just the same as we do! What makes you so much better, you—" she poured out obscenities, then choked on her own rage and ended up coughing.
There was a sudden delighted outcry from among the ruins where her two companions were poking around. She came up the bank.
"Have you found him?"
"We found love-weed! Love-weed!" The two Farers reappeared, waving handfuls of something they had grubbed up, chewing greedily. The tall one held some out to Baya.
The Ginger Star-Volume I of The Book of Skaith Page 3