CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I stumbled over steps, took a jolting stride downward, and found myselfin a dim room jammed with dark figures, human and nonhuman.
The figures swayed in the darkness, chanting in a dialect not altogetherfamiliar to me, a monotonous wailing chant, with a single recurrentphrase: "Kamaina! Kama-aina!" It began on a high note, descending inweird chromatics to the lowest tone the human ear could resolve.
The sound made me draw back. Even the Dry-towners shunned the orgiasticrituals of Kamaina. Earthmen have a reputation for getting rid of themore objectionable customs--by human standards--on any planet where theylive. But they don't touch religions, and Kamaina, on the surfaceanyhow, was a religion.
I started to turn round and leave, as if I had inadvertently walkedthrough the wrong door, but my conductor hauled on my arm, and I waswedged in too tight by now to risk a roughhouse. Trying to force my wayout would only have called attention to me, and the first of the SecretService maxims is; when in doubt, go along, keep quiet, and watch theother guy.
As my eyes adapted to the dim light, I saw that most of the crowd wereCharin plainsmen or _chaks_. One or two wore Dry-town shirtcloaks, and Ieven thought I saw an Earthman in the crowd, though I was never sure andI fervently hope not. They were squatting around small crescent-shapedtables, and all intently gazing at a flickery spot of light at the frontof the cellar. I saw an empty place at one table and dropped there,finding the floor soft, as if cushioned.
On each table, small smudging pastilles were burning, and from thesecones of ash-tipped fire came the steamy, swimmy smoke that filled thedarkness with strange colors. Beside me an immature _chak_ girl waskneeling, her fettered hands strained tightly back at her sides, hernaked breasts pierced for jeweled rings.
Beneath the pallid fur around her pointed ears, the exquisite animalface was quite mad. She whispered to me, but her dialect was so thickthat I could follow only a few words, and would just as soon not haveheard those few. An older _chak_ grunted for silence and she subsided,swaying and crooning.
There were cups and decanters on all the tables, and a woman tiltedpale, phosphorescent fluid into a cup and offered it to me. I took onesip, then another. It was cold and pleasantly tart, and not until thesecond swallow turned sweet on my tongue did I know what I tasted. Ipretended to swallow while the woman's eyes were fixed on me, thensomehow contrived to spill the filthy stuff down my shirt.
I was wary even of the fumes, but there was nothing else I could do. Thestuff was _shallavan_, outlawed on every planet in the Terran Empire andevery halfway decent planet outside it.
More and more figures, men and creatures, kept crowding into the cellar,which was not very large. The place looked like the worst nightmare of adrug-dreamer, ablaze with the colors of the smoking incense, the swayingcrowd, and their monotonous cries. Quite suddenly there was a blaze ofpurple light and someone screamed in raving ecstasy: "_Na ki na Nebrann'hai Kamaina!_"
"Kamayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena!" shrilled the tranced mob.
An old man jumped up and started haranguing the crowd. I could justfollow his dialect. He was talking about Terra. He was talking aboutriots. He was jabbering mystical gibberish which I couldn't understandand didn't want to understand, and rabble-rousing anti-Terran propagandawhich I understood much too well.
Another blaze of lights and another long scream in chorus:"Kamayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeena!"
Evarin stood in the blaze of the many-colored light.
The Toymaker, as I had seen him last, cat-smooth, gracefully alien,shrouded in a ripple of giddy crimsons. Behind him was a blackness. Iwaited till the painful blaze of lights abated, then, straining my eyesto see past him, I got my worst shock.
A woman stood there, naked to the waist, her hands ritually fetteredwith little chains that stirred and clashed musically as she movedstiff-legged in a frozen dream. Hair like black grass banded her browand naked shoulders, and her eyes were crimson.
And the eyes lived in the dead dreaming face. They lived, and they weremad with terror although the lips curved in a gently tranced smile.
Miellyn.
Evarin was speaking in that dialect I barely understood. His arms wereflung high and his cloak went spilling away from them, rippling likesomething alive. The jammed humans and nonhumans swayed and chanted andhe swayed above them like an iridescent bug, weaving arms rippling backand forth, back and forth. I strained to catch his words.
"Our world ... an old world."
"Kamayeeeeena," whimpered the shrill chorus.
"... humans, humans, all humans would make slaves of us all, all savethe Children of the Ape...."
I lost the thread for a moment. True. The Terran Empire has one smallblind spot in otherwise sane policy, ignoring that nonhuman and humanhave lived placidly here for millennia: they placidly assumed thathumans were everywhere the dominant race, as on Earth itself.
The Toymaker's weaving arms went on spinning, spinning. I rubbed my eyesto clear them of _shallavan_ and incense. I hoped that what I saw was anillusion of the drug--something, something huge and dark, was hoveringover the girl. She stood placidly, hands clasped on her chains, but hereyes writhed in the frozen calm of her face.
Then something--I can only call it a sixth sense--bore it on me thatthere was _someone_ outside the door. I was perhaps the only creaturethere, except for Evarin, not drugged with _shallavan_, and perhapsthat's all it was. But during the days in the Secret Service I'd had todevelop some extra senses. Five just weren't enough for survival.
I _knew_ somebody was fixing to break down that door, and I had a goodidea why. I'd been followed, by the legate's orders, and, tracking mehere, they'd gone away and brought back reinforcements.
Someone struck a blow on the door and a stentorian voice bawled, "Openup there, in the name of the Empire!"
The chanting broke in ragged quavers. Evarin stopped. Somewhere a womanscreamed. The lights abruptly went out and a stampede started in theroom. Women struck me with chains, men kicked, there were shrieks andhowls. I thrust my way forward, butting with elbows and knees andshoulders.
A dusky emptiness yawned and I got a glimpse of sunlight and open skyand knew that Evarin had stepped through into _somewhere_ and was gone.The banging on the door sounded like a whole regiment of Spaceforce outthere. I dived toward the shimmer of little stars which marked Miellyn'stiara in the darkness, braving the black horror hovering over her, andtouched rigid girl-flesh, cold as death.
I grabbed her and ducked sideways. This time it wasn't intuition--ninetimes out of ten, anyway, intuition is just a mental shortcut which addsup all the things which your subconscious has noticed while you werebusy thinking about something else. Every native building on Wolf hadconcealed entrances and exits and I know where to look for them. Thisone was exactly where I expected. I pushed at it and found myself in along, dim corridor.
The head of a woman peered from an opening door. She saw Miellyn's limpbody hanging on my arm and her mouth widened in a silent scream. Thenthe head popped back out of sight and a door slammed. I heard the boltslide. I ran for the end of the hall, the girl in my arms, thinking thatthis was where I came in, as far as Miellyn was concerned, and wonderingwhy I bothered.
The door opened on a dark, peaceful street. One lonely moon was settingbeyond the rooftops. I set Miellyn on her feet, but she moaned andcrumpled against me. I put my shirtcloak around her bare shoulders.Judging by the noises and yells, we'd gotten out just in time. No onecame out the exit behind us. Either the Spaceforce had plugged it or,more likely, everyone else in the cellar had been too muddled by drugsto know what was going on.
But it was only a few minutes, I knew, before Spaceforce would check thewhole building for concealed escape holes. Suddenly, and irrelevantly, Ifound myself thinking of a day not too long ago, when I'd stood up infront of a unit-in-training of Spaceforce, introduced to them as anIntelligence expert on native towns, and solemnly warned them aboutconcealed exits and entrances. I wondered, for half a minute, if itmi
ght not be simpler just to wait here and let them pick me up.
Then I hoisted Miellyn across my shoulders. She was heavier than shelooked, and after a minute, half conscious, she began to struggle andmoan. There was a _chak_-run cookshop down the street, a place I'd onceknown well, with an evil reputation and worse food, but it was quiet andstayed open all night. I turned in at the door, bending at the lowlintel.
The place was smoke-filled and foul-smelling. I dumped Miellyn on acouch and sent the frowsy waiter for two bowls of noodles and coffee,handed him a few extra coins, and told him to leave us alone. Heprobably drew the worst possible inference--I saw his muzzle twitch atthe smell of _shallavan_--but it was that kind of place anyhow. He drewdown the shutters and went.
I stared at the unconscious girl, then shrugged and started on thenoodles. My own head was still swimmy with the fumes, incense and drug,and I wanted it clear. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to do, butI had Evarin's right-hand girl, and I was going to use her.
The noodles were greasy and had a curious taste, but they were hot, andI ate all of one bowl before Miellyn stirred and whimpered and put upone hand, with a little clinking of chains, to her hair. The gesture wasindefinably reminiscent of Dallisa, and for the first time I saw thelikeness between them. It made me wary and yet curiously softened.
Finding she could not move freely, she rolled over, sat up and staredaround in growing bewilderment and dismay.
"There was a sort of riot," I said. "I got you out. Evarin ditched you.And you can quit thinking what you're thinking, I put my shirtcloak onyou because you were bare to the waist and it didn't look so good." Istopped to think that over, and amended: "I mean I couldn't haul youaround the streets that way. It looked good enough."
To my surprise, she gave a shaky little giggle, and held out herfettered hands. "Will you?"
I broke her links and freed her. She rubbed her wrists as if they hurther, then drew up her draperies, pinned them so that she was decentlycovered, and tossed back my shirtcloak. Her eyes were wide and soft inthe light of the flickering stub of candle.
"O, Rakhal," she sighed. "When I saw you there--" She sat up, claspingher hands hard together, and when she continued her voice was curiouslycold and controlled for anyone so childish. It was almost as cold asDallisa's.
"If you've come from Kyral, I'm not going back. I'll never go back, andyou may as well know it."
"I don't come from Kyral, and I don't care where you go. I don't carewhat you do." I suddenly realized that the last statement was whollyuntrue, and to cover my confusion I shoved the remaining bowl of noodlesat her.
"Eat."
She wrinkled her nose in fastidious disgust. "I'm not hungry."
"Eat it anyway. You're still half doped, and the food will clear yourhead." I picked up one mug of the coffee and drained it at a singleswallow. "What were you doing in that disgusting den?"
Without warning she flung herself across the table at me, throwing herarms round my neck. Startled, I let her cling a moment, then reached upand firmly unfastened her hands.
"None of that now. I fell for it once, and it landed me in the middle ofthe mudpie."
But her fingers bit my shoulder.
"Rakhal, Rakhal, I tried to get away and find you. Have you still gotthe bird? You haven't set it off yet? Oh, don't, don't, don't, Rakhal,you don't know what Evarin is, you don't know what he's doing." Thewords spilled out of her like floodwaters. "He's won so many of you,don't let him have you too, Rakhal. They call you an honest man, youworked once for Terra, the Terrans would believe you if you went to themand told them what he--Rakhal, take me to the Terran Zone, take methere, take me there where they'll protect me from Evarin."
At first I tried to stop her, question her, then waited and let thetorrent of entreaty run on and on. At last, exhausted and breathless,she lay quietly against my shoulder, her head fallen forward. The mustyreek of _shallavan_ mingled with the flower scent of her hair.
"Kid," I said heavily at last, "you and your Toymaker have both got mewrong. I'm not Rakhal Sensar."
"You're not?" She drew back, regarding me in dismay. Her eyes searchedevery inch of me, from the gray streak across my forehead to the scarrunning down into my collar. "Then who--"
"Race Cargill. Terran Intelligence."
She stared, her mouth wide like a child's.
Then she laughed. She _laughed_! At first I thought she was hysterical.I stared at her in consternation. Then, as her wide eyes met mine, withall the mischief of the nonhuman which has mingled into the human here,all the circular complexities of Wolf illogic behind the woman in them,I started to laugh too.
I threw back my head and roared, until we were clinging together andgasping with mirth like a pair of raving fools. The _chak_ waiter cameto the door and stared at us, and I roared "Get the hell out," betweenspasms of crazy laughter.
Then she was wiping her face, tears of mirth still dripping down hercheeks, and I was frowning bleakly into the empty bowls.
"Cargill," she said hesitantly, "you can take me to the Terrans whereRakhal--"
"Hell's bells," I exploded. "I can't take you anywhere, girl. I've gotto find Rakhal--" I stopped in midsentence and looked at her clearly forthe first time.
"Child, I'll see that you're protected, if I can. But I'm afraid you'vewalked from the trap to the cookpot. There isn't a house in Charin thatwill hold me. I've been thrown out twice today."
She nodded. "I don't know how the word spreads, but it happens, innonhuman parts. I think they can see trouble written in a human face, orsmell it on the wind." She fell silent, her face propped sleepilybetween her hands, her hair falling in tangles. I took one of her handsin mine and turned it over.
It was a fine hand, with birdlike bones and soft rose-tinted nails; butthe lines and hardened places around the knuckles reminded me that she,too, came from the cold austerity of the salt Dry-towns. After a momentshe flushed and drew her hand from mine.
"What are you thinking, Cargill?" she asked, and for the first time Iheard her voice sobered, without the coquetry, which must after all havebeen a very thin veneer.
I answered her simply and literally. "I am thinking of Dallisa. Ithought you were very different, and yet, I see that you are very likeher."
I thought she would question what I knew of her sister, but she let itpass in silence. After a time she said, "Yes, we were twins." Then,after a long silence, she added, "But she was always much the older."
And that was all I ever knew of whatever obscure pressures had shapedDallisa into an austere and tragic Clytemnestra, and Miellyn into apixie runaway.
Outside the drawn shutters, dawn was brightening. Miellyn shivered,drawing her thin draperies around her bare throat. I glanced at thelittle rim of jewels that starred her hair and said, "You'd better takethose off and hide them. They alone would be enough to have you hauledinto an alley and strangled, in this part of Charin." I hauled the birdToy from my pocket and slapped it on the greasy table, still wrapped inits silk. "I don't suppose you know which of us this thing is set tokill?"
"I know nothing about the Toys."
"You seem to know plenty about the Toymaker."
"I thought so. Until last night." I looked at the rigid, clamped mouthand thought that if she were really as soft and delicate as she looked,she would have wept. Then she struck her small hand on the tabletop andburst out, "It's not a religion. It isn't even an honest movement forfreedom! Its a--a front for smuggling, and drugs, and--and every otherfilthy thing!
"Believe it or not, when I left Shainsa, I thought Nebran was the answerto the way the Terrans were strangling us! Now I know there are worsethings on Wolf than the Terran Empire! I've heard of Rakhal Sensar, andwhatever you may think of Rakhal, he's too decent to be mixed up inanything like this!"
"Suppose you tell me what's really going on," I suggested. She couldn'tadd much to what I knew already, but the last fragments of the patternwere beginning to settle into place. Rakhal, seeking the mattertransmitter and som
e key to the nonhuman sciences of Wolf--I knew nowwhat the city of Silent Ones had reminded me of!--had somehow crossedthe path of the Toymaker.
Evarin's words now made sense: "_You were clever at evading oursurveillance--for a while._" Possibly, though I'd never know, Cuinn hadbeen keeping one foot in each camp, working for Kyral and for Evarin.The Toymaker, knowing of Rakhal's anti-Terran activities, had believedhe would make a valuable ally and had taken steps to secure his help.
Juli herself had given me the clue: "_He smashed Rindy's Toys._" Out ofthe context it sounded like the work of a madman. Now, havingencountered Evarin's workshop, it made plain good sense.
And I think I had known all along that Rakhal could not have beenplaying Evarin's game. He might have turned against Terra--though now Iwas beginning even to doubt that--and certainly he'd have killed me ifhe found me. But he would have done it himself, and without malice._Killed without malice_--that doesn't make sense in any of thelanguages of Terra. But it made sense to me.
Miellyn had finished her brief recitation and was drowsing, her headpillowed on the table. The reddish light was growing, and I realizedthat I was waiting for dawn as, days ago, I had waited for sunset inShainsa, with every nerve stretched to the breaking point. It was dawnof the third morning, and this bird lying on the table before me mustfly or, far away in the Kharsa, another would fly at Juli.
I said, "There's some distance limitation on this one, I understand,since I have to be fairly near its object. If I lock it in a steel boxand drop it in the desert, I'll guarantee it won't bother anybody. Idon't suppose you'd have a shot at stealing the other one for me?"
She raised her head, eyes flashing. "Why should you worry about Rakhal'swife?" she flared, and for no good reason it occurred to me that she wasjealous. "I might have known Evarin wouldn't shoot in the dark! Rakhal'swife, that Earthwoman, what do you care for her?"
It seemed important to set her straight. I explained that Juli was mysister, and saw a little of the tension fade from her face, but not all.Remembering the custom of the Dry-towns, I was not wholly surprised whenshe added, jealously, "When I heard of your feud, I guessed it was overthat woman!"
"But not in the way you think," I said. Juli had been part of it,certainly. Even then I had not wanted her to turn her back on her world,but if Rakhal had remained with Terra, I would have accepted hismarriage to Juli. Accepted it. I'd have rejoiced. God knows we had beencloser than brothers, those years in the Dry-towns. And then, beforeMiellyn's flashing eyes, I suddenly faced my secret hate, my secretfear. No, the quarrel had not been all Rakhal's doing.
He had not turned his back, unexplained on Terra. In some unrecognizedfashion, I had done my best to drive him away. And when he had gone, Ihad banished a part of myself as well, and thought I could end thestruggle by saying it didn't exist. And now, facing what I had done toall of us, I knew that my revenge--so long sought, so dearlycherished--must be abandoned.
"We still have to deal with the bird," I said. "It's a gamble, with allthe cards wild." I could dismantle it, and trust to luck that Wolfillogic didn't include a tamper mechanism. But that didn't seem worththe risk.
"First I've got to _find_ Rakhal. If I set the bird free and it killedhim, it wouldn't settle anything." For I could not kill Rakhal. Not,now, because I knew life would be a worse punishment than death. Butbecause--I knew it, now--if Rakhal died, Juli would die, too. And if Ikilled him I'd be killing the best part of myself. Somehow Rakhal and Imust strike a balance between our two worlds, and try to build a new onefrom them.
"And I can't sit here and talk any longer. I haven't time to take you--"I stopped, remembering the spaceport cafe at the edge of the Kharsa.There was a street-shrine, or matter transmitter, right there, acrossthe street from the Terran HQ. _All these years...._
"You know your way in the transmitters. You can go there in a second ortwo." She could warn Juli, tell Magnusson. But when I suggested this,giving her a password that would take her straight to the top, sheturned white. "All jumps have to be made through the Mastershrine."
I stopped and thought about that.
"Where is Evarin likely to be, right now?"
She gave a nervous shudder. "He's everywhere!"
"Rubbish! He's not omniscient! Why, you little fool, he didn't evenrecognize me. He thought I was Rakhal!" I wasn't too sure, myself, butMiellyn needed reassurance. "Or take _me_ to the Mastershrine. I canfind Rakhal in that scanning device of Evarin's." I saw refusal in herface and pushed on, "If Evarin's there, I'll prove he's fallible enoughwith a skean in his throat! And here"--I thrust the Toy into herhand--"hang on to this, will you?"
She put it matter-of-factly into her draperies. "I don't mind that. Butto the shrine--" Her voice quivered, and I stood up and pushed at thetable.
"Let's get going. Where's the nearest street-shrine?"
"No, no! Oh, I don't dare!"
"You've got to." I saw the _chak_ who owned the place edging round thedoor again and said, "There's no use arguing, Miellyn." When she hadreadjusted her robes a little while ago, she had pinned them so thatthe flat sprawl of the Nebran embroideries was over her breasts. I put afinger against them, not in a sensuous gesture, and said, "The minutethey see these, they'll throw us out of here, too."
"If you knew what I know of Nebran, you wouldn't _want_ me to go nearthe Mastershrine again!" There was that faint coquettishness in hersidewise smile.
And suddenly I realized that I didn't want her to. But she was notDallisa and she could not sit in cold dignity while her world fell intoruin. Miellyn must fight for the one she wanted.
And then some of that primitive male hostility which lives in every mancame to the surface, and I gripped her arm until she whimpered. Then Isaid, in the Shainsan which still comes to my tongue when moved orangry, "Damn it, you're _going_. Have you forgotten that if it weren'tfor me you'd have been torn to pieces by that raving mob, or somethingworse?"
That did it. She pulled away and I saw again, beneath the veneer ofpetulant coquetry, that fierce and untamable insolence of theDry-towner. The more fierce and arrogant, in this girl, because she hadburst her fettered hands free and shaken off the ruin of the past.
I was seized with a wildly inappropriate desire to seize her, crush herin my arms, taste the red honey of that teasing mouth. The effort ofmastering the impulse made me rough.
I shoved at her and said, "Come on. Let's get there before Evarin does."