Screams came down from above, from those trapped by the flames. The fires they had originated were turning on them.
"We'll swim to that dock over there," Hadon said. "There are ships there, and nobody is on the dock."
"There they come," Ruseth said, pointing at the steps where a dozen people were scrambling down.
Hadon put his sword in its sheath and dived into the water. He came up in a large swell with stinking garbage and turds. A huge round-sided, flat-backed form rose before him, grunted and then sank. He swam over it, feeling panic for a second as his foot struck something soft and greasy.
'It was twenty yards to the next dock. Hadon climbed up and then helped Ruseth and the others up to it. By then six craft had been seized, three rowboats and three small fishing boats. A longboat with a single mast was the only one left, and a dozen people were running toward it. Hadon roared and dashed, up to them, grabbing them from behind and hurling them into the water. Six went in before the others realized what was happening. They turned with knives and swords in hand. Ruseth joined him, and the two advanced against the six men and women. They did not try to close with him; the fact that he wielded a tenu discouraged them. Suddenly Hadon halted and said, "There is no need for bloodshed. I want this boat just long enough to get to the Temple of Kho. You can come with us and, after we get there, you can go on with the boat. In fact, it'll be better that way for all. We need you to help us paddle the boat there, and you need us." Kebiwabes and Hinokly ranged themselves by Hadon's side.
This additional force, as much as the logic of Hadon's argument, convinced the six that cooperation was best. They all got in and pushed the boat away from the dock as more people ran screaming out onto it. Some leaped into the water in a vain attempt to get aboard. All but one made it back to the dock; this man screamed and threw his hands up in the air and disappeared as if something had pulled him under—which no doubt was what had happened.
With ten paddlers, the boat moved along swiftly enough. There were several tense moments when a swell lifted it against a pillar, but they were able to avoid collision by shoving their paddles against it. A section of the street floor above fell in once, the flaming wood hissing and splashing water into the boat. Sparks and hot fragments fell on the paddlers, causing them to cry out in pain or fright, but none was seriously burned.
Their guide, paddling in the lead on the right, turned now and then to order a change of direction. Within ten minutes they seemed to be past the area of fire. At least the light cast by the flames lessened, and there was no odor of smoke. But there was much activity overhead everywhere, people shouting, bells ringing, occasionally a heavy thudding as of many men running. The number of people running in panic down the stairways and seizing vessels steadily increased. Evidently they were taking no chances. If the city did go up in flames, they would not be there to be burned.
At last the man gestured to his right and made a peculiar sign with his hand. Hadon said, "What's that mean?"
Ruseth said, "It means we dock there," pointing to a series of parallel platforms, rising and falling with the swells.
The longboat came in on the crest of a swell between two platforms; the people on the right grabbed the free ends of ropes tied to posts. With some difficulty, Hadon and his group got out onto the dock and clung to the rope railing. Those in the longboat shoved against the dock or dug in their paddles, and the boat moved out from between the platforms. The ends of the center platform extended outside and past the stairway, sliding up and down as the swells rose and fell. An ingenious mechanism of bronze worked back and forth, up and down, to permit the platform dock to move vertically without being disconnected or bumping into the stairway. The metal arms and joints squeaked, however, as if they needed oil.
Hadon leading, they got to the stairway. There was light furnished by torches on the platforms, but it diminished as they climbed up. By the time they were at street level, they could see only dimly. They came out of the staircase into a dark room. Hadon told the others to stand still while he groped around for a doorway. Presently he found one. Its latch moved easily upward, and he stepped through into another dark room. He immediately felt something light across his face, chest and legs. Whatever the things were, they moved easily at first, then began to resist. Little bells tinkled in the room. Suddenly a door at the opposite end was thrown open. Light streamed in. Men armed with swords poured in. More light fell, this time from a trapdoor in the ceiling. Men looked down at him from behind their spears.
18.
The bells had given their warning when Hadon pulled the strings attached to them. He stood still but he cried, "I am Hadon, husband of Lalila, the woman who came here only a short time ago! Karsuh brought her here with the child!"
An officer said "I know." He gave an order and the strings fell to the floor. After checking out the rest of the party—evidently Karsuh had described them—he led them into the next room. They climbed another high spiraling staircase to emerge into a large chamber. This was made of marble and was decorated with murals and statuettes of ivory and gold set in niches. They followed the officer through a series of splendid rooms and ascended another staircase to the third story. They walked down a hallway and then went up another staircase for seven stories inside a tower, as they saw when they got to the top. Lalila, Abeth, Karsuh and a number of others were in the open-sided chamber. They were looking down at a city rapidly being consumed. The flames had spread to new areas, and fires had started in many places remote from the main blaze. These had evidently been ignited by people infected with the same hysteria and self-destructive mania which had seized those in the Street of the Overturned Hives.
Much could be seen from this height. The flames lit up firemen and volunteers pulling buckets of water up through openings in the streets, soldiers battling rioters and looters, people cramming avenues, running into soldiers intent on getting to the flames to extinguish them, refugees piling up on top of each other, screaming and clawing outside the entrances to the stairways.
Here and there, buildings folded into themselves and into the flames, sometimes collapsing through the bottom level and leaving empty smoking spaces.
Hadon took a quick look, then put his arm around Lalila's waist and kissed her. She gave a startled cry—she had not seen him arrive—and then buried her face against his chest.
"Wherever I go," she said, "wherever I go, death, misery, hate, destruction."
"That's only because there is death, misery, hate and destruction everywhere," Hadon said. "You are not under a curse. No more than anybody else."
She started to say something, but the outcry of those around them drowned her words. They looked out to see the cause of the uproar. Fire had broken out in the buildings around the base of the great tower in the center of the city. Whether it had been deliberately started by someone or if the wind had carried sparks and burning pieces to the houses, no one knew. Nor did it matter. The flames were raging now, lighting up the houses and the streets, which were jammed. At the rate the fire was traveling—flames were licking at the first story—the tower would soon be past saving.
Karsuh turned away from the scene. The lights from the fires and the torches set along the railing made her face glisten. It was a copper mask of grief.
"Rebha will soon be aflame from one end to the other," she said. "Kho must have sent this wind; Kho has driven the people out of their minds. Together, wind and madness will burn ancient Rebha to the sea. Nothing, not even the piles, will be left."
"Then we must get away," Hadon said. "Will you lead us to our ship, Wind-Spirit? You can go with us, of course."
Karsuh shouted at her guards, who surrounded the entire party. They went down the stairway quickly enough; the temple seemed to be empty except for those who had gathered at the top of the watch tower. Hadon carried Abeth this time. The child clung to him, her face pressed into his neck. She did not cry out or even whisper; she was too frightened. Whatever her internal feelings, outwardly she wa
s as still as if dead.
When they reached the staircase below the street level, Karsuh cried out, "The boats are all gone!"
The men ahead of Hadon roared and began running down the steps. He turned and thrust Abeth at Hinokly and raced after the guards. Their quarry was a rowboat just leaving the dock. Six persons were in it, three men, two women and a boy of about twelve. They were all bent to their task, which was to get the boat away before it was boarded by others. On the dock, rolling back and forth, were the bodies of a dozen people, some temple guards, some thieves. The latter must have swum over from docks under nearby streets after every craft on those docks was seized. Some must have drowned in the attempt; others had been killed fighting for the boats. And now the last boat was being rowed away.
The guards were brave. They leaped without hesitation out after the boat. One landed on the stern and sprawled forward. Before he could rise, he was struck on the neck with the edge of a paddle. Another guard fell into the sea and grabbed the edge of the stern. He started to pull himself up but was hit on the top of the helmet by an oar. He still managed to cling on, then lost his grip as the oar broke the bones of his fingers.
The boat lost some headway, however, when its rowers stopped to beat off the guards. Three of them, though they had fallen short of the craft, were now swimming toward it. Though their bronze helmets and cuirasses weighed them down, they managed to keep their noses above water. What they intended to do when they reached the boat was something they probably had not considered. They were obeying the orders of the priestess, and that was all they had to think about for the moment.
Hadon stopped at the foot of the steps, then stepped to one side to allow the others to pass by. Three of the rowers were still using their oars; the others were standing up, or attempting to, holding their oars to bring down on the swimming guards. One of the rowers was the young boy and he was not very effective.
There was a distance of about thirty feet now from the dock. Too far for him to jump even if he had been able to make a good run.
He reached out and grabbed Ruseth. "We have to get that boat," he said. "Otherwise we'll burn to death—or drown ourselves to keep from burning. How good a swimmer are you?"
"You're asking a fisherlad from Bhabhobes?" Ruseth replied.
"We'll swim out and then dive under and come out ahead of them," Hadon said. "I'll climb up on the left side of the bow—"
"The port," Ruseth said.
"To hell with that," Hadon said. "The left side. You take the right—"
"The starboard," Ruseth said, grinning. Hadon did not know whether to hit him or pat him. The little redhead certainly had guts. To jest at a time like this!
"We nave to come up, out and on very swiftly," Hadon said. "Let's go!"
Shouting, he rammed his way through the crowd, knocking people down and some into the water. He poised at the edge as Ruseth arranged himself by his side. As the dock rose to the top of a swell, he leaped out. He stayed under the surface of the water, striking out with all his strength, letting his heavy sword drag him down a little. The current tended to sweep him to the right, but then it was doing the same to the row-boat.
When he could not hold his breath any longer, and his arms and legs seemed filled with lead pellets, he came up, ahead of the boat by ten feet. He could see the rowers frantically working against the torchlight from the docks. He hoped they would not be able to see him in the darkness ahead.
A head emerged a few feet from his—Ruseth. The sailor turned and his teeth gleamed. Hadon gestured at the boat, which was approaching rapidly. He dived again and came up as the boat started to slide down a swell. He reached up and grabbed the wood of the prow just ahead of the nose. With a heave that cracked the muscles in his back—or was it the timbers of the boat?—he was up on the edge, his belly pressing down on it. A moment later, Ruseth's head appeared on the other side, rising, then falling forward as Ruseth also fell on his belly. He held his knife between his teeth.
The two closest rowers were the boy and a woman. The boy was on the left, only a few feet from Hadon. He and the woman must have heard them or felt their weight on the prow. Yelling, they rose to their feet and turned, using their oars as weapons. Hadon, scraping his belly raw, pulled himself over the edge. Ruseth did the same; they collided. The boat pitched, and the woman and the boy lurched back down again on the bench, their oars still up in the air. The boy was not strong enough to keep his up; it went back over his shoulder. The woman raised hers and got halfway up from the bench, intending to bring the oar down on Ruseth.
By then the two men had scrambled up, hampering each other, but still working effectively enough. Hadon kicked the boy in the face; Ruseth stabbed the woman in the neck. Behind them the other four quit rowing and rose to bring their oars into play. The boat swung sideways and then slid down a swell. For a moment the four were diverted by the need to keep their footing. Hadon ignored this, though he could have been hurled out by any too violent a pitch, and advanced. By then he had his sword out. Within twenty seconds, he had cleared the boat.
Ruseth threw the woman, who was wounded in the neck, and the unconscious boy into the sea. The boy, apparently shocked into consciousness, began swimming toward the dock. Hadon did not think he would make it, but he wished him luck. He had nothing against him. In fact, if there had been room, he would have let him stay aboard. But his own came first, Lalila and the child, then Paga, because he loved Lalila and she loved him, then his friends.
Getting the boat back was not difficult, since it had not progressed far. It came in so fast, sliding down a swell and then up it, that its side ground against the dock. Some people on the edge of the dock had been too hasty in trying to get to the boat. They were crushed between the hull and the platform. Fortunately, Lalila and the others had not been on the edge. They had been pushed back by those who were now drowning or screaming with pain and horror.
While Ruseth grabbed a rope to keep the boat from drifting away, Hadon whirled the sword above his head. Those on the edge of the dock shrank back. The priestess Ka'rsuh, shouting commands and threats, aided by her surviving guards, got the others away from the dock. Lalila, Abeth and Paga, the scribe and the bard clambered in. Hadon told the priestess to get in too. There was room for her.
She said, "No. I stay here. It is my duty to pray for salvation for my poor people."
Hadon saluted her, admiring her devotion but doubting her good sense. He gave the order and the others shoved off. As they pulled away, they saw more people descending, their press so great that some were spilled over the sides of the stairway. Smoke belched down after them, and then trickles of fire ran along the tar in the joinings of the planks.
Karsuh tried to get through the crowd to the stairway. She was swept to one side and into the water. If she had been on the near side, Hadon would have made an effort to get her into the boat. But she was quickly lost from view on the other side of the dock.
Hadon took an oar and began rowing with the others. They headed at an angle for the outer waters, beyond the area covered by the pile-city. Because of the heavy seas, it was impossible to cut straight west, the shortest route to safety, or at least a lessening of the present danger. The only practical route was to go straight between the piles in the direction of the current. That way they would avoid being carried sideways into piles. Even so, they had to go around a number of floating docks, which caused them to come perilously close to the massive columns from time to time.
When near the docks they were also threatened by hundreds of refugees who leaped into the sea and swam after the boat. Hadon had to keep urging his crew to row and pay no attention to the people trying to grab the oars and the sides of the craft. Though desperate, the swimmers were not strong enough to retain their holds on the oars. Their hands slipped away and they fell back. A few did manage to seize the edge of the stern. Only then would Hadon allow Hinokly and Paga, the rearmost, to stop rowing for a moment and stab the hands of the would-be boarders.
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Finally they pulled out from under the cover of Rebha. Here the sea was even heavier, unbroken by the great piles. They needed rest, but Hadon made them press on.
"They're still swimming out," he said. "We can slow down after a while, when we're beyond the range of even the strongest swimmers."
By then the entire city seemed to be on fire. The flames rose high everywhere, outlining the crazy staggered levels of the buildings, the tower of the Temple of Kho and the Tower of Diheteth. The light showed hundreds of tiny dark figures along the edges of the outermost streets, milling around, then leaping, sometimes singly, sometimes by the dozens. The wind carried the screams even above the roar of the flames and the crash of falling walls and sections of foundation. Then the great Tower of Diheteth, wrapped in a red and orange winding sheet, toppled. Its collapse drowned out all other sounds. It struck the buildings below, sending a spray of flaming fragments high into the air, broke through the foundation and, carrying with it many of the surrounding structures, smashed into the sea. Though much of it was extinguished, a huge part was still burning. This bumped into pillars and docks, setting several aflame, and was lost in the general holocaust. By then wide areas of the city were falling into the sea. The smaller Tower of Kho slid gracefully through the foundation, retaining its vertical position until its base plunged hissing into the waters.
The rowers continued working, though they were numbed with awe. Within two hours, a mighty city of forty thousand people, an old city, the work of many hands and minds, through many generations, a unique place, erected in the desert of the sea, had been destroyed.
Hadon had had doubts about the rationality of human beings before this. From now on, he would never believe that people acted according to the dictates of reason. Perhaps they did most of the time. But behind, or below, that mask of logic was anarchy, unreason, emotion.
He exempted himself from this indictment, of course.