"We will see to him now," the Indras-dressed one said, a small man with eyes so narrow he could only be Sufaki. "Put him on his feet."
Two men hauled Kurt up, cut the cords that bound his ankles. He could not stand without them holding him. They shook him and struck him to make him try, but when it was evident that he truly could not stand, they took him each by an arm and pulled him along with them in great haste, out
into the mist and the dark, along the confusing turns of the alleys.
They tended constantly downhill, and Kurt was increasingly sure of their destination: the bay's dark waters would conceal his body with no evidence to accuse the Sufaki of his murder, no one to swear how he had vanished.
No one but Mim, who might well be able to identify them.
That was the thought which most tormented him. Elas should have been turning Nephane upside down by now, if only Mim had reached them. But there was no indication of a search.
They turned a corner, cutting off the light from the lantern-carrier in front of them, which moved like a witchlight in the mist. The other two men were half carrying him. Though he had feeling in his feet again, he made it no easier for them.
They made haste to overtake the man with the lantern, and cursed him for his haste. At the same time they jerked cruelly on Kurt's arms, trying to force him to carry his own weight.
And suddenly he shouldered left, where steps led down into a doorway, toppling one of his guards with a startled cry. With the other one he pivoted, unable to free himself, held by the front of his robe and one arm.
Kurt jerked. Cloth tore. He hurled all his weight into a kick at the lantern-bearer.
The man sprawled, oil spilling, live flame springing up. The burned man screamed, snatching at his clothing, trying to strip it off. His friend's grip loosened, knife flashing in the glare. He rammed it for Kurt's belly.
Kurt spun, received the edge across his ribs instead, tore free, kneed the man as the burning man's flames reached something else flammable in the debris of the alley.
He was free. He pivoted and ran, in the mist and the dark that now was scented with the stench of burned flesh and fiber.
It was several turns of the alleys later when he first dared stop, and leaned against the wall close to fainting for want of air, for the gag obstructed his breathing.
At last, as quietly as possible, he knelt against the back steps of a warehouse, contorted his body so that he could use his fingers to search the debris in the corner. There was broken pottery in the heap. He found a shard keen-edged enough, leaned against the step with his heart pounding from exertion and his ears straining to hear despite the blood that roared in his head.
It took a long time to make any cut in the tight cords. At last a strand parted, and another, and he was able to unwind the rest. With deadened hands he rubbed the binding from the gag and spit the choking cloth from his mouth, able to breathe a welcome gasp of the chill foggy air.
Now he could move, and hi the concealment of the night and the fog he had a chance. His way lay uphill-he had no choice in that. The gate would be the logical place for his enemies to lay their ambush. It was the only way through the defense wall that ringed the upper town.
When he reached the wall, he was greatly relieved. It was not difficult to find a place where illicit debris had piled up against the ancient fortification. Sheds and buildings proliferated here, crowding into the narrow gap between the permitted buildings and the former defense of the high town. He scrambled by the roofs of three of them up to the crest and found the situation unhappily tidier on the other side. He walked the wall, dreading the jump. He found a place where the erosion of centuries had lessened the height perhaps five feet, and he lowered himself over the edge and dropped a dizzying distance to the ground on the high town side.
The jolt did not knock him entirely unconscious, but it dazed him and left him scarcely able to crawl the little distance into the shadows. It was a while before he had recovered sufficiently to try to walk again, at times losing clear realization of how he had reached a particular place.
He reached the main street. It was deserted. Kurt took to it only as often as he must, finally broke into a run as he saw the door of Osanef. He darted into the friendly shadow of its porch.
No one answered. Light came through the fog indistinctly on the upper hill, a suffused glow from the temple or the Afen. He remembered the festival, and decided even Indras-influenced Osanef might be at the temple.
He took to the street running now, two blocks from Elas and trusting to speed, not daring even the other Indras houses. They had no love of humans; Kta had warned him so.
He was hi the final sprint for Elas' door before he realized Elas might be watched, would logically be watched unless the Methi's guards were about. It was too late to stop. He
reached its triangular arch and pounded furiously on the door, not even daring to look over his shoulder.
"Who is there?" Hef's voice asked faintly.
"Kurt. Let me in. Let me in, Hef."
.The bolt shot back, the door opened, and Kurt slipped inside and leaned against the closed door, gasping for breath in the sudden warmth and light of Elas.
"Mini," said Hef. "Lord Kurt, what has happened? Where is Mim?"
"Not-not here?"
"No. We thought at least-whatever had happened-you were together."
Kurt caught his breath with a choking swallow of air and pushed himself square on his feet. "Call Kta."
"He is out with Ian t'Ilev and Val t'Ran, searching for you both. Ai, my lord, what can we do? I will call Nym-". "Tell Nym-tell Nym I have gone to get the Methi's help. Give me a weapon, anything-"
!]I cannot, my lord, I cannot. My orders forbid-"
Kurt swore and jerked the door open again, ran for the street and the Afen gate.
When he reached the Afen wall, the great gates were closed and the wall-street that led to the temple compound was crowded with Sufaki, drunken, most of them. Kurt leaned on the bars and shouted for the guards to hear him and open them, but his voice was lost in the noise of the crowds, with all Sufak Nephane gathered into that square down the street and spilling over into the wall-street. Some, drunker than the rest, began also to shake at the bars of the gates to try to raise the guards. If there were any on duty to hear, they ignored the uproar.
Kurt caught his breath, exhausted, far from help of Kta or Djan. Then he remembered the other gate, the sally port in the far end of the wall where it touched Haichema-tleke and opened onto the temple square. That would be the one for them to guard, that nearest the temple. They might hear him there, and open.
He raced along the wall, jostling Sufaki in his exhausted weaving and stumbling. A few drunk ones laughed and caught at his clothing. Others cursed him, trying to bar his way.
A cry began to go up, resentment for his presence. Jafikn-wearing Sufaki barred his path, turned him. Someone struck him from the side, nearly throwing him to the pavement.
He ran, but they would not let him escape the square, blocking his way out, t'Tefur's men, armed with blades.
Authority, he thought, sensible authority would not let this happen. He broke to one side, racing for the temple steps, sending shrieking women and cursing men crowding out of his way.
Hands reached to stop him. He tore past them almost all the way to the very top of the long temple steps before enough of them seized him to hold him.
"Bias* doing!" a hysterical voice shrieked from below. "Kill the human!"
Kurt struggled around to see who had shouted, looked down on a sea of alien faces in the torchlight and the haze of thin mist. "Where is Shan t'Tefur?" Kurt screamed back at them. "Where has he taken my wife?"
The babble of voices almost hushed for a moment: the nemet held their women in great esteem. Kurt drew a great gasp of air and shouted across the gathering. "Shan t'Tefur! If you are here, come out and face me. Where is my wife? What have you done with her?"
There was a moment of shocked si
lence and then a rising murmur like thunder as an aged priest came from the upper steps through the men gathered there. He cleared the way with the emblem of his office, a vine-wreathed staff. The staff extended till it was almost touching Kurt, and the priest spit some unintelligible words at him.
There was utter silence now, drunken laughter coming distantly from the wall-street. In this gathering no one so much as stirred. Even Kurt was struck to silence. The staff extended a degree further and with unreasoning loathing he shrank from it, not wanting to be touched by this mouthing priest with his drunken gods of earth. They held him, and the rough wood of the staff's tip trembled against his cheek.
"Blasphemer," said the priest, "sent by Elas to profane the rites. Liar.Cursed from the earth you will be, by the old gods, the ancient gods, the life-giving sons of Thael. Son of Yr to Phan united, Aem-descended, to the gods of ancient Chteftik, cursed!"
"A curse on the lot of you," Kurt shouted in his face, "if you have any part in t'Tefur's plot! My wife Mim never harmed any of you, never harmed anyone. Where is she? You people-you! who were in the market today-who walked away-are you all in this? What did they do with her? Where did they take her? Is she alive? By your own gods you can tell me that at least. Is she alive?"
."No one knows anything of the woman, human," said the aged priest. "And you were ill-advised to come here with your drunken ravings. Who would harm Mim h'Elas, a daughter of Sufak herself? You come here and profane the mysteries, taught no reverence in Elas, it is clear. Cursed be you, human, and if you do not leave now, we will wash the pollution of your feet from these stones with your blood. Let him go, let go the human, and give him the chance to leave."
They released him, and Kurt swayed on the steps above the crowd, scanning the faces for one that was familiar. Of Osanef, of any friend, there was no sign. He looked back at the priest.
"She is lost in the city, hurt or dead," Kurt pleaded. "You are a religious man. Do something!"
For a moment pity or conscience almost touched the stern old face. The cracked lips quavered on some answer. There was a hush over the crowd.
"It is Indras' doing!" a male voice shouted. "Elas is looking for some offense against the Sufaki, and now they try to create one! The human is Elas' creature!"
Kurt whirled about, saw a familiar face for the first time.
"He is one of them!" Kurt shouted. "That is one of the men who was in the market when my wife was taken. They tried to kill me and they have my wife-"
"Liar," shouted another man. "Ver has been at the temple since the ringing of the Into. I saw him myself. The human is trying to accuse an innocent man."
"Kill him!" someone else shouted, and others throughout the crowd took up the cry, surging forward. Young men, wearing the Robes of Color. T'Tefur's men.
"No," cried the old priest, pounding his staff for attention. "No, take him out of here, take him far from the temple precincts."
Kurt backed away as men swarmed about him, nearly crushed in the press, jerked bodily off his feet, limbs strained as they passed him off the steps and down into the crowd.
He fought, gasping for breath and trying to free hands or even a foot to defend himself as he was borne across the courtyard toward the wall-street.
And the gate was open, and five men of the Methi's guard were there, dimly outlined in the mist and the flaring torches, but about them was the flash of metal, and bronze helmets glittered under the murky firelight, ominous and warlike.
"Give him to us," said their leader.
"Traitors," cried one of the young men.
"Give him to us," the officer repeated. It was t'Senife.
In anger they flung Kurt at the guardsman, threw him sprawling on the stones. The guards in their haste were no more gentle, snatching him up again, half dragging him through the sally port into the Afen grounds.
Hysterical outcries came from the crowd as they closed the door, barring the multitude outside. Something heavy struck the door, a barrage of missiles like the patter of hail for a moment. The shrieking rose and died away.
The Methi's guard gathered him up, hauling his bruised arms, pulling him along with them until they were sure that he would walk as rapidly as they.
They took him by the back stairs and up.
XIII
"Sit down," Djan snapped.
Kurt let himself into the nearest chair, although Djan continued to stand. She looked over his head toward the guards who waited.
"Are things under control?"
"They would not enter the Afen grounds."
"Wake the day guard. Double watch on every post, especially the sally port. T'Lised, bring h'Elas here."
Kurt glanced up. "Mim-"
"Yes, Mim." Djan dismissed the guard with a wave of her hand and swept her silk and brocade skirts aside to take a chair. No flicker of sympathy touched her face as Kurt lifted a shaking hand to wipe his face and tried to collect his shattered nerves.
"Is she all right?" he asked.
"She will mend. Nym reported you missing when you failed to return; my men found her wandering the dock. I couldn't get sense out of her-she kept demanding to go to Bias-until I finally got through to her the fact that you were missing too. Then Kta came here saying you'd come back to Elas and then left again to find me. He was able to pass the gate in company with some of my men or I doubt he'd have made it through, given the mood of the people out there. So I sent Kta home again under guard and told him to wait there, and I hope he did. After the riot you created in the temple square, finding you was simple."
Kurt bowed his head, glad enough to know Mim was safe, too tired to argue.
"Do you even remotely realize what trouble you caused? My men are in danger of being killed out there because of you."
"I'm sorry."
"What happened to you?"
"TTefur's men hauled me out of the market, held me in some warehouse until dark and took me out-I suppose to dispose of me in the harbor. I escaped. I...may have killed one or two of them." Djan swore under her breath. "What else?" "Those who were taking me from the temple-if your men recognized them; one was in the market. T'Tefur's men. One was a man I told you used to watch Elas...."
"Shall I call Shan here? If you repeat those things to his face-"
"I'll kill him."
"You will do nothing of the sort," Djan shouted, suddenly at the end of her patience. "You caused me trouble enough, you and your precious little native wife. I know well enough your stubbornness, but I promise you this: if you cause me any more trouble, I'll hold you and all Elas directly responsible."
"What am I supposed to do, wait for the next time? Is my wife going to have to go into hiding for fear of them and I not be able to do anything or lay a hand on the men I know are responsible?"
"You chose to live here, you begged me for the privilege, and you chose all the problems of living in a nemet house arid having a nemet wife. Now enjoy it." "I'm asking you to do something."
"And I'm telling you I've had enough problems from you. You're becoming a liability to me."
The door opened cautiously and Mim entered the room, stood transfixed as Kurt rose to his feet. Her face dissolved in tears and for a moment she did not move. Then she cast herself to her knees and fell upon her face before Djan.
Kurt went to her and drew her up into his arms, smoothing her disordered hair, and she turned her face against him and wept. Her dress was torn open, buttons ripped to the waist, the pelan soiled with mud from the streets and with blood.
"You'd better do something," Kurt said, looking across at Djan. "Because if I meet any of them after this I'll kill them."
"If you doubt I'll do what I said, you're mistaken."
"What kind of place is this when this can happen to her? What do I owe your law when this can happen and they can get away with it?"
"H'Elas," said Djan, ignoring him, "have you remembered who did this to you?"
"Please," said Mim, "do not shame my husband."
"
Your husband has eyes to see what happened to you. He is threatening to take matters into his own hands, which will be unfortunate for El as if he does, and for him too. So you had better find it convenient to remember, h'Elas."
"Methi, I...only remember what I told you. They kept me wrapped in... in someone's cloak, I think, and I could hardly breathe. I saw no faces... and I remember... I remember being moved, and I tried to escape, but they... hit me. They-"
"Let be," Kurt said, holding her. "Let be, Djan."
"How long have you lived in Nephane, h'Elas?"
"F-four years, Methi."
"And never heard those voices, never saw a face you knew, even at the beginning?"