CHAPTER X
_The Road to Nadia_
The stads of Abaria, like the masters who rode them, wereill-accustomed to the clear cold air of Nadia. They snorted visiblejets of vapor into the crisp air as their splayed feet scratched andslipped, seeking purchase on the ice-covered, up-tilted rocky plain.
"It's an accursed country, lord," Hultax told the king of the Abariansas their steeds advanced shoulder and shoulder.
Retoc sat tall and straight on the stad's broad back, his black cloakwith the royal emblem billowing in the stiff wind, his hard handsomeface ruddy with the cold air, his cruel eyes mere slits against theNadian wind. "Quiet, you fool," he admonished Hultax. "Everything weAbarians say and do in Nadia must be sweetness and light--now."
The vanguard of the long column of Abarian riders had reached arushing mountain stream, its waters too swift to freeze in thesub-zero temperature. Lifting one hand overhead, Retoc called a halt.
"They'll find out, lord," Hultax persisted. "They'll find out what youdid. I know they will. They'll find out it was you who killed Jlomec,their ruler's brother."
Retoc smiled. The smile made Hultax' blood run cold, for he had seensuch a smile before--when Retoc witnessed the execution of disloyalAbarian subjects. The smile hardened on Retoc's face, as if it hadfrozen there in the cold Nadian wind. "Dismount your steed," he saidin a soft voice which only Hultax heard.
Trembling, Hultax obeyed his master's command. His stad, suddenlyriderless, pawed nervously at the frost-hardened ground on the edge ofthe stream. Retoc withdrew his whip-sword and fondled thejewel-encrusted haft. "If you ever say that again, here in Nadia orelsewhere, I will kill you," he warned his lieutenant.
"But the brown girl--"
"The brown girl be damned!" roared Retoc in sudden fury.
"We haven't been able to find her. That day at the cave, she camerushing out, lord, while you--"
"I was detained," Retoc said, some of the passion gone from his voice.He would never forget the sight of the iron-thewed young man, who oncehad almost strangled him, growing suddenly, incredibly transparent,then disappearing. He had stood there, whip-sword in hand, mouthagape, while the brown girl ran past him and--according to what Hultaxhad told him later--mounted his own stad and vanished across theOfridian plain.
"But lord, don't you see?" Hultax demanded. "The brown girl knows whathappened to Jlomec, prince of the royal Nadian blood. If she attendsthe royal funeral. She will--"
Retoc laughed. Hultax blanched. He had heard such laughter whenenemies of Retoc and thus of Abaria had died in pain. "Fool, fool!" heheard Retoc say now. "Think you a bedraggled wayfaring maid of theOfridian desert will be invited to the funeral of a prince of theNadian royal blood?"
"Nevertheless, sire," Hultax persisted, "that day at the cave I tookthe liberty to send three of our best stadsmen after the girl withorders to capture her or kill her on sight."
Slowly, as a thaw spreads in spring over the broad Nadian ice fields,Retoc smiled at his second in command. Hultax too let his face relaxinto a grateful grin: until now he had been teetering on the brink ofviolent death, and he knew it.
"You may mount," Retoc said.
* * * * *
Hastily Hultax climbed astride his stad. Retoc lifted his arm overheadand made a circular motion with his outstretched hand. The first ofthe Abarian stads advanced with some reluctance into the swift coldshallow water of the stream.
"What about the white giant?" Hultax asked unwisely when the entireparty had reached the other side and Retoc was urging his stad up theslippery bank.
"Have your scouts been able to find the wayfarers who saw him?"
"No, sire. Only the girl nursed him back to health. The others fled."
"And wisely. They have learned to hold their tongues, as you shouldlearn, Hultax. They will give us no trouble. As far as they areconcerned, there is no white giant."
"But there is talk of what happened at the Tower, and of Portox'wizardry, and a god who would return, full-grown in exactly a hundredyears--"
"Shut up!" Retoc cried, almost screaming the words.
But that night at the Abarian encampment a day and a half's marchfrom Nadia city, Retoc dreamed of Queen Evalla, the lovely Ofridianruler whose slow death by torture he had relished as the final act ofhis utter destruction of the once proud Ofridian nation. Evalla in thedream seemed happy and confident. Retoc awoke sweating although frigidwinds howled over the Nadian ice-fields. Her confidence sent unknownfear through him.
* * * * *
"Really, it's quite simple," the superbly-muscled prisoner said in thelanguage which was not his own but which he could speak as well as anative. "You see, it wasn't simple at all until I saw what was in thepackage, but it's quite simple now. In the package was a picture of mymother, the dead Queen Evalla. I am her son. I am of the royal blood.When I saw the picture, it suddenly triggered my memory-responses, asPortox had arranged. Then--"
"What about the old guy in the well?" the trooper askedunimaginatively.
"I'm sorry. I can't answer your questions now. I have to return to myhome. The handful of wayfarers who alone are left of a once greatnation are waiting for vengeance. I will...."
His voice trailed on, earnestly, politely. The trooper looked at theman from the state mental hospital, who shook his head slowly. Theyleft the powerful, polite prisoner in his cell and went through thecorridor to the prison office.
"Real weirdy, huh, doc?" the trooper said.
"A--uh--weirdy to you, but rather cut and dry to me, I'm afraid," Dr.Slonamn said. "Delusions of grandeur and delusions of persecution.Advanced paranoia, I'm afraid."
"It's funny, doc. When they took everything away from him he mighthurt himself with, he didn't mind at all. Only the bracelet. Threestrong men had to hold him when they took the bracelet."
"Bracelet?" Dr. Slonamn said.
"We got it in the office. I'll show you."
The bracelet turned out to be a small, mesh-metal strap as wide aroundas a big man's upper arm. Attached to the strap was a disc of silverymetal.
"You'd think it was worth a million bucks," the trooper said.
Dr. Slonamn nodded sagely. "Paranoid. It helps confirm the diagnosis.You see, out of touch with the real world, a paranoid can attach greatvalue to utterly worthless objects. Well, I'll write out my report,sergeant."
"Captain Caruthers said to thank you, sir."
"Not at all. Part of my job."
Meanwhile, back in his cell, the prisoner, big hands gripping the barsso tight that his knuckles were white, was thinking: _I've got to makethem understand. Somehow I've got to make them understand before it'stoo late._
He closed his eyes, lost in intense thought. When he did so, an imageswam before his mind's eye. He did not know how this could be, butascribed it to more of the dead Portox' magic.
What he saw was the barren ice fields of Nadia, with several greatcaravans making their slow way across the bleak blazing whitenesstoward Nadia City. As was the custom in Nadia, the prisoner--whosename was Bram Forest--knew, great funeral games would be held to honorthe memory of the late beloved Prince Jlomec. And it was here infrigid Nadia, at such a time as this, when all the royal blood of allthe royal households of Tarth gathered, the wizardry of Portox seemedto tell him, that vengeance would come. Here, if only....
_Ylia!_
The image blurred. He had seen her once. His knuckles went white asbleached bone on the bars. He concentrated every atom of his will._Ylia, Ylia!_ But now with his eyes shut he saw nothing. With his eyesopened, only the bars of his cell and the cell-block corridor beyond._Ylia, Ylia! Hear me. There is danger on the road to Nadia. Ylia...._