"Shardik" - читать интересную книгу автора (Adams Richard)

QUISO

moment, Kelderek saw him staring, as though still bemused, towards the dimly-shining turbulence in the shallows.

The woman's voice called again, 'Come!' Slowly, Bel-ka-Trazet climbed over the side of the canoe into the water, which reached scarcely to his knees, and waded towards the light. Kelderek followed, splashing clumsily through the slippery pools. Reaching the shore, he found confronting him a tall, cloaked woman standing motionless, her face hidden in her cowl. He too stood still, not daring to question her silence. He heard the servants come ashore behind him, but the tall woman paid them no heed, only continuing to gaze at him as though to perceive the very beating of his heart. At last – or so he thought – she nodded, and thereupon at once turned about, stooped and passed the pole through the iron ring on the lantern. Then she and her companion took it up between them and began to walk away, unstumbling over the loose, yielding stones. Not a man moved until, when she had gone perhaps ten paces, the tall woman, without turning her head, called 'Follow!' Kelderek obeyed, keeping his distance behind them like a servant.

Soon they began to climb a steep path into the woods. He was forced to grope among the rocks for hand-holds, yet the women went up easily, one behind the other, the taller raising the pole above her head to keep the lantern level. Still they climbed and still he followed breathlessly in the dark until, the way growing less steep and at last level, he thought that they could not be far below the very summit of the island. The trees grew thickly and he could no longer see the light ahead. Groping among the ferns and drifts of leaves he could hear – louder as he went on – the sound of cascading water and suddenly found himself standing on a spur of rock overlooking a ravine. On the opposite side lay a stone-paved terrace, in the middle of which were glowing the embers of a fire. This, he felt sure, must be the source of that light, high up, which he had seen from the river – a beacon lit to guide them. Beyond, a wall of rock rose into the dark, and this he could see plainly, for round the edges of the terrace stood five tripods, each supporting a bronze bowl from which rose translucent flames, yellow, green and blue. There was little smoke, but the air was filled with a resinous, sweet scent.

More disturbing and awe-inspiring than the empty terrace, with its basins of flame, was the square opening cut in the rock wall behind. A carved pediment overhung it, supported by a pillar on either side, and to him it seemed that the black space between was gazing upon him inscrutably, like the unseen face of the cowled woman on the shore. Disturbed, he turned his eyes away, yet still, like a prisoner standing in a crowded court, felt himself watched; and, looking back once more, saw again only the flame-lit terrace and the opening beyond.

He stared downwards into the ravine. A little to his right, scarcely visible in the flickering darkness, he could make out a waterfall, not sheer, but cascading steeply over rocks until lost in the deep cleft below. In front of this, close to the falling water and gleaming wet with spray, a felled tree-trunk, no thicker than a man's thigh, spanned the ravine from bank to bank. The upper side had been roughly planed; and upon this, with no hand-rail, the two women were now crossing as easily as they had walked over the shore. The pliant trunk sprang beneath their weight and the lantern tossed upon its pole, yet they moved with an unhurried grace, like village girls at evening carrying their pitchers from the well.

Slowly Kelderek descended from the spur. Coming to the nearer end of the bridge he began, fearfully, to put one foot before the other. The cascade at his elbow showered him with its cold spray; the invisible water below sent up its echoes about him; after a few steps he crouched upon his knees, fumbling one-handed along the undulating tree-trunk. He dared not raise his eyes to look ahead. Staring down at his own hand, he could see besides nothing but the grain of the wood, knot after knot coming into his circle of vision and disappearing under his chin as he edged forward. Twice he stopped, panting and digging his nails into the curved under-side as the trunk swayed up and down.

When at last he reached the further end, he continued groping blindly along the ground on his hands and knees, until by chance he caught and crushed a handful of creeping locatalanga and, with that pungent scent about him, came to himself and realized that he was no longer clutching and tossing above the water. He stood up. Ahead, the women were crossing the centre of the terrace, one behind the other as before. Watching, he saw them reach the edge of the heap of embers within their fleece of ash. Without a pause they stepped into it, lifting the hems of their cloaks exactly as though wading a ford. As the hindmost raised her hem he glimpsed for a moment her bare feet. Ash and sparks rose in a fine dust, as chaff rises about the feet of a miller. Then they were pacing on beyond, leaving behind them an exposed, dull-red track across the circle of the dying fire.

Kelderek, moaning, sank to the ground and buried his face in the crook of his arm.

This, then, was the manner of his coming to the Upper Temple upon Quiso of the Ledges – this bringer of the tidings that generations had awaited but never heard: injured, drenched, grovelling and half-hysterical, shutting out what lay before his eyes, determined – strange determination – only upon the surrender of whatever shreds of will-power the island had left him. When at length the High Baron and his servants came to the edge of the ravine and in their turn tottered like cripples along the leaping tree, they found him lying prone on the edge of the terrace, cackling and gasping with a sound more dreadful than the laughter of the deaf and dumb. 6 The Priestess As Kelderek became quiet and seemed to fall asleep where he lay, a light appeared within the opening in the rock wall. It grew brighter and two young women came out, each carrying a burning torch. They were sturdy, rough-looking girls, bare-footed and dressed in coarse tunics: but no baron's wife could have matched the half of their ornaments. Their long ear-rings, which swung and clicked as they walked, were formed of separate pieces of carved bone, strung together in pendants. Their triple necklaces, of alternate penapa and ziltate, shone rose and tawny in the firelight On their fingers were wooden rings, carved to resemble plaiting and stained crimson. Each wore a broad belt of bronze plates with a clasp fashioned like the head of a bear; and on the left hip an empty dagger-sheath of green leather, whorled like a shell, in token of perpetual virginity.

On their backs they carried wicker baskets filled with fragments of a resinous gum and a black fuel hard and fine as gravel. At each tripod they stopped and, taking handfuls from each other's panniers, threw them into the bowls. The fuel fell with a faint, ringing sound, lingering and overtoned: and the girls, as they worked, paid no more attention to the waiting men than if they had been tethered beasts.

They had almost finished their task and the terrace was bright with fresh light, when a third young woman came pacing slowly from the darkness of the cave. She was dressed in a pleated, sheathlike robe of white cloth, finer than any woven in Ortelga, and her long, black hair hung loose at her back. Her arms were bare and her only ornament was a great collar of fine gold links, more than a span broad, which completely covered her shoulders like a vestment. As she appeared the two girls slipped their baskets from their backs and took up places side by side upon the edge of the ashes.

Bel-ka-Trazet raised his eyes to meet those of the young woman. He said nothing, however, and she returned his look with an impassive air of authority, as though every man had a face like his and they were all one to her. After a few moments she jerked her head over her shoulder and one of the girls, coming forward, led the servants away, disappearing into the darkness under the trees near the bridge. At the same moment the hunter stirred and rose slowly to his feet Ragged and dirty, he stood before the beautiful priestess with an air less of callowness than of simple unawareness either of his appearance or his surroundings.

Like the tall woman on the beach, the priestess stared intently at Kelderek, as though weighing him in some balance of her mind. At length she nodded her head two or three times with a kind of grave, comprehending recognition, and turned once more towards the High Baron.

'It is meant, then', she said, 'that this man should be here. Who is he?'

'One whom I have brought, saiyett,' replied Bel-ka-Trazet briefly, as though to remind her that he too was a person of authority.

The priestess frowned. Then she stepped close to the High Baron, put her hand upon his shoulder and, assuming the air of a wondering and inquisitive child, drew his sword from the scabbard and examined it, the Baron making no attempt to stop her.

'What is this?' she asked, moving it so that the light of the flames flashed along the blade. 'My sword, saiyett,' he answered, with a touch of impatience.

'Ah, your -' she paused, hesitating a moment, as though the word were new to her -'sword. A pretty thing, this – this sword. So – so -so -' and, pressing hard, she drew the edge three or four times across her forearm. It made no cut and left no mark whatever. 'Sheldra,' she called to the remaining girl, 'the High Baron has brought us a – a sword! The girl approached, took the sword in both hands and held it out horizontally at the height of her eyes, as though admiring the sharpness of the edge.

'All, now I see,' said the priestess lightly. Drawing the flat of the blade against her throat and motioning the girl to hold it firmly, she made a little jump, swung a few moments by her chin on the sharp edge and then, dropping to the ground, turned back to Bel-ka-Trazet.

'And this?' she asked, plucking his knife from his belt This time he made no reply. Assuming a puzzled look, she drove the point into her left arm, twisted it, drew it out bloodless, shook her head and handed it to the girl. 'Well – well – toys.' She stared coldly at him. 'What is your name?' she asked.

The Baron opened his mouth to speak, but after a moment the twisted lips closed askew and he remained looking at her as though she had not yet spoken. 'What is your name?' she said to Kelderek in the same tone.

As though in a dream, the hunter found himself perceiving on two planes. A man may dream that he is doing something – flying, perhaps – which, even in the dream, he knows that he cannot do. Yet he accepts and lives the illusion, and thus experiences as real the effects following from the discounted cause. In the same way Kelderek heard and understood the priestess's words and yet knew that they had no meaning. She might as well have asked him, 'What is the sound of the moon?' Moreover, he knew that she knew this and would be satisfied with silence for an answer. 'Come!' she said, after a pause, and turned on her heel.

Walking before them – the grim, mutilated Baron and the bewildered hunter – she led them out of the circle of blue-flaming bowls and through the opening in the rock. 7 The Ledges The darkness was broken only by the indirect flame-light from the terrace outside; but this was sufficient to show Kelderek that they were in a square chamber apparently cut out of the living rock. The floor beneath his feet was stone and the shadows of himself and his companions moved and wavered against a smooth wall. On this he glimpsed a painting which seemed, as he thought, to represent some gigantic creature standing upright. Then they were going on into the dark.

Feeling his way after the priestess, he touched the squared jamb of an opening in the wall and, groping upwards – for he feared to strike his head – could find no transom above. Yet the cleft, if tall, was narrow enough – scarcely as wide as a man – and to save his injured shoulder he turned sideways and edged into it, right arm first. He could see nothing – only those mysterious, faintly-coloured clouds and vaporous screens that swim before our eyes in darkness, seeming exhaled, as it were, from our own sightlessness as mists rise from a marsh.

The floor sloped steeply downwards underfoot. He stumbled on, groping against the wall as it curved away to the right. At last he could make out, ahead, the night sky and, outlined against it, the figure of the waiting priestess. He reached her side, stopped and looked about him.

It was not long after midnight by the stars. He was high up in some spacious, empty place, standing on a broad ledge of stone, its surface level but the texture so rough that he could feel the grains and nodules under the soles of his feet. On either side were wooded slopes. The ledge stretched away to the left in a long, regular curve, a quarter-circle a stone's throw across, ending among banks of ivy and the trunks of trees. Immediately below it extended another, similar ledge and below that fell away many more, resembling a staircase for giants or gods. The pitch was steep – steep enough for a fall to be dangerous. The faintly-shining, concentric tiers receded downwards until the hunter could no longer distinguish them in the starlight. Far below, he could just perceive a glimmering of water, as though from the bottom of a well: and this, it seemed to him, must be some land-locked bay of the island. All around, on either side, great trees towered, an orderly forest, the spaces between them free from the creepers and choking jungle of the mainland. As he gazed up, the night wind freshened and the rustling of leaves became louder and higher, with a semblance of urgent repetition – 'Yess! Yess, yess!' followed by a dying fall – 'Sshow! – Sssh-ow!' Mingled with this whispering came another sound, also liquid and continuous, but unaltering in pitch, lower and lightly plangent. Listening, he recognized it for the trickling and dropping of water, filling all the place no less than the sound of the leaves. Whence might this come? He looked about.

They were standing near one end of the uppermost tier. Further along its length a shallow stream – perhaps that of the ravine he had crossed earlier that night – came whelming smoothly out of the hillside and across the ledge. Here, no doubt because of some tilting of the stones, it spread in either direction, to become at the edges a mere film of water trickling over the rough, level surface. Thence, it oozed and dripped and splashed its way downward, passing over one terrace after another, spreading all abroad, shallow as rain on the pitch of a roof. This was the cause of the faint shining of the ledges in the starlight and of the minute, liquid sounds sparkling faindy about them, myriad as windy heather on a moor or crickets in a meadow.

Struck with amazement, Kelderek realized that this vast place was an artifact. He stood trembling – with awe indeed, but not with fear. Rather, he was filled with a kind of wild and expansive joy, like that of dance or festival, seeming to himself to be floating above his own exhaustion and the pain in his shoulder.

'You have never seen the Ledges?' said the priestess at his elbow. 'We have to descend them – are you able?'

At once, as though she had commanded him, he set off down the wet slabs as confidently as though upon level ground. The Baron called to him sharply and he stayed himself against the solitary island of a bank of ivy, smiling back at the two still above him for all the world as though they were comrades in some children's game. As the priestess and the Baron approached carefully, picking their way down the wet stones, he heard the latter say, 'He is light-headed, saiyett – a simple, foolish fellow, as I am told. He may fall, or even fling himself down.'

'No, the place means him no harm, Baron,' she replied. 'Since you brought him here, perhaps you can tell why.' 'No,' replied the Baron shortly.

'Let him go,' she said. 'On the Ledges, they say, the heart is the foot's best guide.'

At this, Kelderek turned once more and bounded away, splashing sure-footed down and down. The dangerous descent seemed a sport, exhilarating as diving into deep water. The pale shape of the inlet below grew larger and now he could see a fire twinkling beside it. He felt the steep hillside ever higher at his back. The curves of the ledges grew shorter, narrowing at last to little more than a broad path between the trees. He reached the very foot and stood looking round him in the enclosed gloom. It was indeed, he thought, like the bottom of a well – except that the air was warm and the stones now seemed dry underfoot. From above he could hear no sound of his companions and after a little began to make his way towards the glow of the fire and the lapping water beyond.

It was irregular, this shore among the trees, and paved with the same stone as the ledges above. As far as he could discern, it was laid out as a garden. Patches of ground between the paving had been planted with bushes, fruit-trees and flowering plants. He came upon a clustering tendriona, trained on trellises to form an arbour, and could smell the ripe fruit among the leaves above him. Reaching up, he pulled one down, split the thin rind and ate as he wandered on.

Scrambling over a low wall, he found himself on the brink of a channel perhaps six or seven paces across. Water-lilies and arrowhead were blooming in the scarcely-moving water at his feet, but in 48 the middle there was a smooth flow and this, he guessed, must be the re-gathered stream from the ledges. He crossed a narrow foot-bridge and saw before him a circular space, paved in a symmetrical pattern of dark and light. In the centre stood a flat-topped stone, roughly ovoid and carved with a star-like symbol. Beyond, the fire was glowing red in an iron brazier.

His weariness and dread returned upon him. Unconsciously, he had thought of the waterside and the fire as the end of the night's journey. What end he did not know; but where there was a fire, might one not have expected to find people – and rest? His impulse on the ledges had been both foolish and impertinent. The priestess had not told him to come here; her destination might be elsewhere. Now there were only the starlit solitude and the pain in his shoulder. He thought of returning, but could not face it. Perhaps, after all, they would come soon. Limping across to the stone, he sat down, elbow on knee, rested his head on his hand and closed his eyes.

He fell into an uneasy, slightly feverish doze, in which the happenings of the long day began to recur, dream-like and confused. He imagined himself to be crouching once more in the canoe, listening to the knock and slap of water in the dark. But it was on the shendron's platform that he landed, and once again refused to tell what he had seen. The shendron grew angry and forced him to his knees, threatening him with his hot knife as the folds of his fur cloak rippled and became a huge, shaggy pelt, dark and undulant as a cypress tree. 'By the Bear!' hissed the Baron. 'You will no longer choose!' 'I can speak only to the Tuginda!' cried the hunter aloud.

He started to his feet, open-eyed. Before him, on the chequered pavement, was standing a woman of perhaps forty-five years of age. She had a strong, shrewd face and was dressed like a servant or a peasant's wife. Her arms were bare to the elbow and in one hand she was carrying a wooden ladle. Looking at her in the starlight, he felt reassured by her homely, sensible appearance. At least there was evidently cooking in this island of sorcery, and a straightforward, familiar sort of person to do it. Perhaps she might have some food to spare.

'Crendro' (I see you), said the woman, using the colloquial greeting of Ortelga. 'Crendro,' replied the hunter. 'You have come down the Ledges?' asked the woman. 'Yes.' 'Alone?' 'The priestess and the High Baron of Ortelga are following – at least so I hope.' He raised one hand to his head. 'Forgive me. I'm tired out and my shoulder's painful.' 'Sit down again.' He did so. 'Why are you here – on Quiso?'

'That I must not tell you. I have a message – a message for the Tuginda. I can tell it only to the Tuginda.'

'Yourself? Is it not for your High Baron, then, to tell the Tuginda?'

'No. It is for myself to do so.' To avoid saying more, he asked, 'What is this stone?'

'It's very old. It fell from the sky. Would you like some food? Perhaps I can make your shoulder more comfortable.'

'It's good of you. I'd like to eat, and to rest too. But the Tuginda -my message -' 'It will be all right Come this way, with, me.'

She took him by the hand and at the same moment he saw the priestess and Bel-ka-Trazet approaching over the bridge. At the sight of his companion the High Baron stopped, bent his head and raised his palm to his brow. 8 The Tuginda In silence the hunter allowed himself to be led across the circle and past the iron brazier, in which the fire had sunk low. He wondered whether it too had been lit for a signal and had now served its turn, for there seemed to be none to keep it burning. Overtaking them, the baron spoke no word, but again raised his hand to his forehead. It shook slightly and his breathing, though he controlled it, was short and unsteady. The hunter guessed that the descent of the steep, slippery ledges had taxed him more than he cared to show.

They left the fire, ascended a flight of steps and stopped before the door of a stone building, its handle a pendent iron ring made like two bears grappling each with the other. Kelderek had never before seen workmanship of this kind, and watched in wonder as the handle was turned and the weight of the door swung inward without sagging or scraping against the floor within.

Crossing the threshold, they were met by a girl dressed like those who had tended the cressets on the terrace. She was carrying three or four lighted lamps on a wooden tray which she offered to each of them in turn. He took a lamp, but still saw little of what was round him, being too fearful to pause or stare about. From somewhere not far away came a smell of cooking and he realized once again that he was hungry.

They entered a firelit, stone-floored room, furnished like a kitchen with benches and a long, rough table. The hearth, set in the wall, had a cowled chimney above and an ash-pit below, and here a second girl was tending three or four cooking-pots. The two exchanged a few words in low voices and began to busy themselves about the hearth and table, from time to time glancing sideways at the Baron with a kind of shrinking fascination.

Since they had left the paved circle the hunter had been overcome by the knowledge that he had committed sacrilege. Clearly, the stone on which he had sat was sacred. Had he not, indeed, been told that it had fallen from the sky? And the woman – the homely woman with the ladle – she could be only -

As she approached him in the firelight he turned, trembling, and fell upon his knees. 'Saiyett -I -I was not to know -'

'Don't be afraid,' she said. 'Lie down here, on the table: I want to look at your shoulder. Melathys, bring some warm water; and Baron, will you please hold one of the lamps close?'

As they obeyed her, the Tuginda unlaced the hunter's jerkin and began to wash the clotted blood from the gash in his shoulder. She worked carefully and deliberately, cleaned the wound, dressed it with a stinging, bitter-scented ointment and finally bound his shoulder with a clean cloth. From behind the lamp the Baron's disfigured face looked down at him with an expression which made him prefer to keep his eyes shut.

'Now we will eat – and drink too,' said the Tuginda at last, helping him to his feet, 'and you girls may go. Yes, yes,' she added impatiently, to one who was lifting the lid from the stew-pot and lingering by the fire, 'I can ladle stew into bowls, believe it or not.'

The girls scurried out and the Tuginda, picking up her ladle, stirred the various pots and filled four bowls from them. Kelderek ate apart, standing up, and she did nothing to dissuade him, herself sitting on a bench by the hearth and eating slowly and little, as though to make sure that she would finish no sooner and no later than the rest. The bowls were wooden, but the cups into which Melathys poured wine were of thin bronze, six-sided and flat-based, so that, unlike drinking-horns, they stood unsupported without spilling. The cold metal felt strange to the hunter's lips. When the two men had finished, Melathys brought water for their hands, took away the bowls and. cups and made up the fire. The Baron, with his back against the table, sat facing the Tuginda, while the hunter remained standing in the shadows beyond.

'I sent for you, Baron,' began the Tuginda. 'As you know, I asked you to come here tonight.'

'You have put me to indignity, saiyett,' replied the Baron. 'Why was the fear of Quiso unloosed upon us? Why must we have lain bemused in darkness upon the shore? Why -'

'Was there not a stranger with you?' she answered, in a tone which checked him instantly, though his eyes remained fixed upon hers. 'Why do you suppose you could not reach the landing-place? And were you not armed?'

'I came in haste. The matter escaped me. But in any case, how could you have known these things, saiyett?'

'No matter how. Well, the indignity, as you call it, is ended now. We will not quarrel. The girls who carried my message to Ortelga – they have been looked after?'

'It is hard to reach Ortelga against the current. They were tired. I said they should remain there to sleep.' She nodded.

'My message, as I -suppose, was unexpected, and you have made me an unexpected reply, bringing me a wounded man whom I find sitting alone and exhausted on the Tereth stone.' 'Saiyett, this man is a hunter – a simple fellow whom they call -' He stopped, frowning. 'I know of him,' she said. 'On Ortelga they call him Kelderek Play-with-the-Children. Here he has no name, until I choose.' Bel-ka-Trazet resumed.

'He was brought to me tonight on his return from a hunting expedition, having refused to tell one of the shendrons whatever it was that he had seen. At first I treated him with forbearance, but still he would say nothing. I questioned him and he answered me like a child. He said, "I have found a star. Who will believe that I have found a star?" Then he said, "I will speak only to the Tuginda." At this I threatened him with a heated knife, but he answered only, "It must be as God wills." And then, in this very moment, saiyett, arrived your message. "So," thought I, "this man, who has said that he will speak only to you – who ever heard a man say this before? – let us take him at his word, if only to make him speak. He had better come to Quiso too – to his death, as I suppose, which he has brought upon himself." And then he sits down upon the Tereth stone, God help us! And we find him face to face and alone with yourself. How can he return to Ortelga? He must die.'

"That is for me to say, while he remains on Quiso. You sec much, Baron, and you guard the people as an eagle her brood. You have seen this hunter and you are angry and suspicious because he has defied you. Have you seen nothing else from your eyrie on Ortelga this two days past?'

It was plain that Bel-ka-Trazet resented being questioned: but he answered civilly enough, 'The burning, saiyett. There has been a great burning.'

'For leagues beyond the Telthearna the jungle has burned. All yesterday it rained ashes on Quiso. During the night animals came ashore from the river – some of kinds never seen here before. A makati comes tame as a cat to Melathys, begging for food. She feeds it and then, following it to the water, finds a green snake coiled about the Tereth. Of whom are these the forerunners? At dawn, the brook in the high ravine left its course and streamed down over the Ledges: but at the foot it gathered itself, flowed back into its channel and did no harm. Why? Why were the Ledges washed, Baron? For the coming of your feet, or my feet? Or was it for the coming of some other feet? What messages, what signs were these?'

The Baron slid his tongue along the jagged edge of one lip and plucked the fur of his cape between his fingers, but answered nothing. The Tuginda turned to face the firelight and remained silent for some time. She sat perfectly still, her hands at rest in her lap, her composure like that of a tree when the wind has dropped. At length she said,

'So I ponder and pray and call upon such little wisdom as I may have acquired over the years, for I know, no more than Melathys, or Rantzay or the girls, what these things may mean. At last I send for you. Perhaps, it seems to me, you may be able to tell me something that you have seen or heard. Perhaps you may give me some clue.

'Meanwhile, if he should come, how should I receive him – he whom God means to send? Not with power or display; no, but as a servant. What else am I? So in case he should come, I dress myself like the ignorant, poor woman that God sees me to be. I know nothing, but at least I can cook a meal. And when the meal is ready I go out to the Tereth, to wait and pray.' Again she was silent. Melathys murmured, 'Perhaps the High Baron knows more than he has told us.' 'I know nothing, saiyett.'

'But it did not occur to me,' went on the Tuginda, 'that the stranger whom I knew to be with you -'

She broke off and looked across the room to where Kelderek was still standing by himself, away from the light, 'So, hunter, you maintained to the High Baron's hot knife, did you, that you had a message for my ears alone?'

'It is true, saiyett,' he answered, 'and it is true also, as the High Baron says, that I am a man of no rank – one who gets his living as a hunter. Yet I knew – and know now – beyond doubt or gainsaying, that none must hear this news before yourself.'

'Tell me, then, what you could not tell to the shendron or the High Baron.'

He began to speak of his hunting expedition that morning and of the undergrowth full of bewildered, fugitive animals. Then he told of the leopard and of his foolhardy attempt to pass it and escape inland. As he spoke of his ill-aimed arrow, his panic flight and fall from the bank, he trembled and gripped the table to steady himself. One of the lamps had burned dry, but the priestess made no move and the wick remained smoking until it died.

'And then,' said the hunter, 'then there stood over me, where I lay, saiyett, a bear – such a bear as never was, a bear tall as a dwelling-hut, his pelt like a waterfall, his muzzle a wedge across the sky. The leopard was as iron on his anvil. Iron – no – ah, believe me! – when the bear struck him he became like a chip of wood when the axe falls. He spun through the air and tumbled like a pierced bird. It was the bear – the bear who saved me. He struck once and then he was gone.' The hunter paused and came slowly forward to the fire.

'He was no vision, saiyett, no fancy of my fear. He is flesh and bone – he is real. I saw the burns on his side – I saw that they hurt him. A bear, saiyett, on Ortelga – a bear more than twice as tall as a man!' He hesitated, and then added, almost inaudibly, 'If God were a bear -'

The priestess caught her breath. The Baron stood up, tipping back the bench against the table as his hand clutched at his empty scabbard.

'You had better be plain,' said the Tuginda in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. 'What do you mean, and what is it that you are thinking about the bear?'

To himself the hunter seemed like a man setting down at last a heavy burden which he has carried for miles, through darkness and solitude, to the place where it must go. But more strongly still, he felt once again the incredulity which had filled him that morning on the lonely, upstream shore of Ortelga. How could it be that this was the appointed time, here the place and himself the man? Yet it was so. It could not be otherwise. His eyes met the shrewd, intent gaze of the Tuginda. 'Saiyett,' he replied, 'it is Lord Shardik.'

There was dead silence. Then the Tuginda answered carefully, 'You understand that to be wrong – to deceive yourself and others – would be a sacrilegious and terrible thing? Any man can see a bear. If what you saw was a bear, O hunter who plays with children, for God's sake say so now and return home unharmed and in peace.'

'Saiyett, I am nothing but a common man. It is you that must weigh my talc, not I. Yet as I live, I myself feel certain that the bear that saved me was none other than Lord Shardik.'

'Then,' replied the Tuginda, 'whether you are proved wrong or right, it is plain what we have to do.'

The priestess was standing with palms outstretched and closed eyes, praying silently. The Baron, frowning, paced slowly across to the further wall, turned and paced back, gazing down at the floor. As he reached the Tuginda she laid her hand upon his wrist and he stopped, looking at her from one half-closed and one staring eye. She smiled up at him, for all the world as though no prospect lay before them but what was safe and easy.

'I'll tell you a story,' she said. 'There was once a wise, crafty Baron who pledged himself to guard Ortelga and its people and to keep out all that could harm them: a setter of traps, a digger of pits. He perceived enemies almost before they knew their own intents and taught himself to distrust the very lizards on the walls. To make sure that he was not deceived, he disbelieved everything; and he was right. A ruler, like a merchant, must be full of craft; must disbelieve more than half he hears, or he will be a ruined man.

'But here the task is more difficult. The hunter says, "It is Lord Shardik," and the ruler, who has learned to be a sceptical man and no fool, replies, "Absurd." Yet we all know that one day Lord Shardik is to return. Suppose it were today and the ruler were in error, then what an error that would be! All the patient work of his life could not atone for it.' Bel-ka-Trazet said nothing.

'We cannot take the risk of being wrong. To do nothing might well be the greatest sacrilege. There is only one thing we can do. We must discover beyond doubt whether this news is true or false; and if we lose our lives, then God's will be done. After all, there are other barons and the Tuginda does not die.'

'You speak calmly, saiyett,' replied the Baron, 'as though of the tendriona crop or the coming of the rains. But how can it be true

'You have lived long years, Baron, with the Dead Belt to strengthen today and the tax to collect tomorrow. That has been your work. And I – I too have lived long years with my work – with the prophecies of Shardik and the rites of the Ledges. Many times I have imagined the news coming and pondered on what I should do if ever it were to come indeed. That is why I can say to you now, "This hunter's talc may be true," and yet speak calmly.'

The Baron shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, as though unwilling to argue. 'Well, and what are we to do?' he asked.

'Sleep,' she replied unexpectedly, going to the door. 'I will call the girls to show you where.' 'And tomorrow?' 'Tomorrow we will go upstream.'

She opened the door and struck once upon a bronze gong. Then she returned and, going across to Kelderek, laid her hand on his sound shoulder.

'Good night,' she said, 'and let us trust that it may indeed be that good night that the children are taught to pray for.' 9 The Tuginda's Story The narrow passage from the land-locked inlet to the Telthearna bent so sharply that it was only just possible for a canoe to negotiate it. The rocky spurs on either side overlapped, closing the inlet like a wall, so that from within nothing could be seen of the river beyond.

The little bay, running inland between its paved shores, ended, among coloured water-lilies, at the outfall of the channel by the Tereth stone. Waiting with Melathys while the servants loaded the canoes, Kelderek gazed upwards, past the bridge which he had crossed the night before, to where the Ledges opened above, their shape like that of a great arrow-head lying point downward on the hillside between the woods. The stream, he saw, was no longer flowing over them: it must have returned, during the night, to its normal course. High up, he could make out the figures of girls stooping over hoes and baskets, weeding and scouring among the stones.

When the loading of the canoes had begun, the sun had not yet reached this north-facing shore, but now it rose over the Ledges and shone down upon the inlet, changing the opaque, grey water to a depth of slow-moving, luminous green. Sharp shadows fell across the pavements from the small stone buildings standing here and there along the edges, some secluded among the trees, others in the open among grass and flowers.

He wondered how old these buildings might be. There was none such on Ortelga. The whole place could be the work only of people long ago. What sort of people could they have been, who had constructed the Ledges?

Blinking, he turned away from the sun to watch the grave, silent girls loading the canoes. On Ortelga there would have been gossip, banter, songs to lighten the work. These women moved deliberately and spoke only such few words as were needed. They were silent, he supposed, by custom and the rule of the island. What a release it would be to leave this shady, mind-bemusing place of secrets and sorcery! Then he recalled whither they were bound and felt again the clutch of fear in his stomach.

An elderly, grey-haired woman, who had been directing the girls at their work, left the waterside and approached Melathys.

'The loading is done, saiyett,' she said. 'Do you wish to check that all is there?' 'No, I will trust you, Thula,' replied the priestess absently. The old woman laid a hand on her arm.

'We do not know where you are going, my dear, or for how long,' she said. 'Will you not tell me? Do you remember how I comforted you as a child, when you used to dream of the slave-traders and the war?'

'I know all too well where we are going,' replied Melathys, 'but not when I shall return.' 'A long journey?' persisted the old woman.

'Long or short,' answered Melathys, with a quick, nervous laugh, 'I promise you that whoever may die, I will take good care that I do not.' She stooped, plucked a red flower, held it for a moment to the other's nostrils and then tossed it into the water.

The old woman made a restrained gesture of impatience, like a trusted servant who is privileged to express her feelings.

'There is danger, then, my child?' she whispered, 'Why do you speak of death?'

Melathys stared a moment, biting her lip. Then she unclasped the broad, golden collar from her neck and put it into the old woman's hands.

'At all events I shall not need this,' she said, 'and if there is danger I shall run faster without the weight of it. Ask me no more, Thula. It is time for us to set out Where are the Baron's servants?'

'He said that they were to return to Ortelga,' replied the old woman. 'They have already taken their canoe and gone.'

'Then go yourself now and tell the Baron that we are ready. Good-bye, Thula. Remember me in your prayers.'

She made her way across the pavement, stepped down into the nearest of the four canoes and motioned to the hunter to take his place behind her. The two girls in the stern dipped their paddles and the canoe drew away from the shore. They crossed the inlet and began to edge their way out through the narrow cleft between the rock spurs.

The bow skirted a curtain of trailing, purple-leaved trazada and Kelderek, knowing how the little thorns tear and smart, dropped his head, shielding his face with his good arm. He heard the stiff leaves clashing against the side of the canoe, then felt a freshness of wind and opened his eyes. They were outside and rocking in a bay of slack water under the northern shore. The green shadow of the woods above them stretched upstream and across the river. Beyond, the water was blue and choppy, glittering in the sun and broken, here and there, into small, white-topped waves. Far off lay the blackened, desolate line of the left bank. He looked back over his shoulder but could no longer discern, among the tangle of green, the cleft from which they had emerged. Then the bow of the second canoe appeared, thrusting through the foliage. Melathys, following his gaze, smiled coldly.

'There is no other landing place on the island where a canoe can come to shore. All else is cliff or shoal, like the place where you landed last night.' 'The Tuginda, then?' he asked. 'Is she not coming with us?'

The priestess, watching the two remaining canoes as they came out, made no immediate reply, but after a while said, 'Do you know the tale of Inanna?'

'Why, yes, saiyett. She went to the underworld to beg for a life and as she passed each gate they took from her her clothes, her jewels and all that she had.'

'Long ago, whenever the Tuginda set out from Quiso to seek Lord Shardik, it was the custom that she should have nothing whatever upon her when she left the island.' She paused and then added, 'The Tuginda does not wish it to be known on Quiso that she is leaving. By the time they learn that she is gone -'

'But if there is no other landing place?' he blurted out, interrupting her. She spoke to the girls at the paddles.

'Nito! Neelith! We will go up the shore now, as far as the quarries.'

At the westward end of the bay the shore extended to form a point Below this the sheltered water was smooth, but once they had rounded it their progress became laborious, for the head-wind was troublesome and on this side of the island the current ran strongly. They moved slowly upstream, the canoes jumping and bouncing in the choppy water. At length Kelderek could see that some way ahead the steep, green slopes gave place to cliffs of grey rock. The face of these cliffs appeared to have been cut and broken into. There were several straight-sided openings, like great windows, and at the foot of the lowest he noticed a kind of sill – a flat, projecting shelf of rock, perhaps three or four times the height of a man above the water. Through these openings, as they neared, he could catch glimpses of a deep, rock-sided excavation, on the floor of which, here and there, were lying boulders and a few squared slabs of stone; but all seemed neglected and desolate.

Melathys turned her head. 'That is where they quarried the stone for the Ledges.' 'Who, saiyett? When?'

Again she made no answer, merely gazing across at the little waves slap-slapping against the foot of the cliff. Suddenly Kelderek started, so that the canoe rocked sideways and one of the girls struck the water sharply with the flat of her paddle to recover its balance. On the flat shelf above them stood a naked woman, her hair flowing loose over her shoulders. She stepped forward to the edge and for a few moments stood looking down, moving her feet for a firm hold. Then, without hesitation, she dived into the deep water.

As she came to the surface, the hunter realized that this was none other than the Tuginda. She began swimming gently towards the third canoe, which was already cutting across to meet her. The Baron's canoe had turned away. Confused, the hunter first closed his eyes and then, to make sure that the priestess should not rebuke him, buried his face in his hands.

'Crendro, Melathys!' called the Tuginda, whom Kelderek could hear laughing as she climbed into the canoe. 'I thought I had brought nothing with me but a light heart, but now I remember that I have two things more – their names, to be restored to our guests. Bel-ka-Trazet, can you hear me, or are you hastening out of earshot as well as out of sight?'

'Why, saiyett,' answered the Baron gruffly, 'you startled us. And am I not to respect you as a woman?'

'The breadth of the Telthearna is respect indeed. Are your servants not here?' 'No, saiyett. I have sent them back to Ortelga.' 'God be with them. And with Melathys, for her pretty arms have been scratched by the trazada. Hunter – shy, pondering hunter -what is your name?' 'Kelderek, saiyett,' he replied, 'Kelderek Zenzuata.'

'Well, now we can be sure that we have left Quiso. The girls will enjoy this unexpected trip. Who is with us? Sheldra, Nito, Neelith -'

She began chatting and joking with the girls, who from their answers were clearly convinced that she was in excellent spirits. After a time her canoe drew alongside and she touched Kelderek's arm. 'Your shoulder?' she asked. 'Better, saiyett,' he answered. 'The pain is much less.' 'Good, for we are going to need you.'

Although the Tuginda had kept her departure secret, someone besides Melathys had evidently known what she meant to do and loaded her canoe accordingly, for she was now dressed, as though for hunting, in a tunic of stitched and over-lapping leather panels, with leather greaves and sandals, and her wet hair, coiled about her head, was bound with a light, silver chain. Like the girls, she was carrying a knife at her belt.

'We will not go up the shore of Ortelga, Melathys,' she said. 'The shendrons would see us and the whole town would be talking within the hour.

'How then, saiyett? Are we not making for the western end of the island?'

'Certainly. But we will cross to the further side of the river and then return.'

Their journey, thus extended, lasted almost until evening. As they crossed, the current carried them downstream, especially when they were obliged to give way to avoid the heavy, floating debris still drifting here and there. By the time they had reached the desert of the further bank, with its scorched, ashen smell, the girls were tired. There was little or no true shade and they were forced to rest as best they could, partly in the canoes and partly in the river itself – for they could all swim like otters. Only Melathys, preoccupied and silent, remained in her place, apparently indifferent to the heat They ate selta nuts, goat's cheese and rose-pale tendrionas. The long afternoon was spent in working slowly upstream along the dead bank. It was hard going, for every reach was obstructed inshore with half-burned trees and branches, some submerged, others spreading tangles of twigs and leaves across the surface. There was a continual drift of fine, black grit through the air and the sides of the canoes above the water-line became coated with a froth of ash suspended in the slack water.

The sun was nearing the horizon when the Tuginda at last gave the word to turn left and head out once more across the current. Kelderek, who knew the difficulty of judging the ever-changing currents of the Telthearna, realized that she was evidently an experienced and skilful waterman. At all events her judgment now was excellent, for with little further effort on the part of the weary girls, the river carried them across and down so that they drifted almost exactly upon the tall, narrow rock at the western point of Ortelga.

They waded ashore, dragging the canoes between them through the reeds, and made camp on dry ground among the soft, fibrous root-tangles of a grove of quian. It was a wild shore; and as their fire burned up – so that the shapes of the tree-trunks seemed to waver in its heat – and outside, the sunset faded from the expanse of the river, Kelderek felt again, as he had felt two days before, the unusual restlessness and disturbance of the forest around them.

'Saiyett,' he ventured at last, 'and you, my lord Baron, if I may be allowed to advise you, we should let no one wander away from the fire tonight. If any must do so, let them go to the shore but nowhere else. This place is full of creatures that are themselves strangers, lost and savage with fear.'

Bel-ka-Trazet merely nodded and Kelderek, afraid of having said too much, busied himself in rolling a log to one side of the fire and scraping it clean to make a seat for the Tuginda. On the further side the girl Sheldra was setting up the servants' quarters and allotting them their duties. She had said nothing whatever to Kelderek throughout the day and he, unsure what his place might be, was about to ask her whether he could be of use, when the Tuginda called him and asked him to take the first watch.

As it fell out, he remained on guard half the night. He felt no desire to sleep. What sort of sentries would they make, he asked himself – dicsc silent, self-contained girls, whose lives had been enclosed so long by the solitude of Quiso? Yet he knew that he was merely trying – and failing – to deceive himself; they were reliable enough and this was not the reason for his wakefulness. The truth was that he could not be free – had not been free all day – from the fear of death and the dread of Shardik.

Brooding in the darkness, fresh misgivings came upon him as he thought first of the High Baron and then of Melathys. Both felt fear – of this he was sure; fear of death no doubt, but also – and it was in this that they differed from himself – fear of losing what each already possessed. And because of this fear there lay in both their hearts an actual hope, of which neither would speak before the Tuginda, that he had told them false and that this search would end in nothing: for to each it seemed that even if what he had told them were the truth, he or she stood to gain nothing from it.

It occurred to him – troubling his heart and heightening still further his sense of loneliness – that the High Baron was actually unable to grasp what to himself was plain as flame. There came into his mind the recollection of an old, miserly trader who had lived near his home some years before. This man had amassed a competence by a lifetime of petty, hard bargaining. One night some swaggering young mercenaries, returned to Ortelga from a campaign in the service of Bekla and reluctant to call an end to a drunken frolic, had offered him three great emeralds in return for a jar of wine. The old man, convinced of some trick, had refused them and later had actually boasted of how he had shown himself too sharp for such rogues.

Bel-ka-Trazet, thought Kelderek, had spent years in making Ortelga a fortress, and looked now to reap his harvest – to grow old in safety behind his pits and stakes, his river moat and his shendrons along the shore. In his world, the proper place for anything strange or unknown was outside. Of all hearts on Ortelga, perhaps, his was the least likely to leap and blaze at news of the return of Shardik, the Power of God. As for Melathys, she was already content with her role as priestess and her island sorcery. Perhaps she hoped to become Tuginda herself in time. She was obeying the Tuginda now merely because she could not disobey her. Her heart, he felt sure, shared neither the Tuginda's passionate hope nor the Tuginda's deep sense of responsibility. It was natural, perhaps, that she should be afraid. She was a woman, quick-witted and young, who had already attained to a position of authority and trust. She had much to lose if a violent death should strike her down. He recalled how he had first seen her the night before, asserting her dismaying power on the flame-lit terrace; discerning, among the night-travellers from Ortelga, the presence of the secret lying unspoken in his heart and in none other. At the memory he was overcome by a keen pang of disappointment. The truth was that the incomparable news which he had brought she would have preferred not to learn.

'They are both far above me,' he thought, pacing slowly across the grove, his ears full of the incessant croaking of the frogs along the shore. 'Yet I – a common man – can see plainly that each is clinging – or trying to cling – to that which they fear may now be changed or swept away. I have no such thoughts, for I have nothing to lose; and besides, I have seen Lord Shardik and they have not. Yet even if we find him again and do not die, still, I believe, they will try by some means or other to deny him. And that I could never do, come of it what might.'

The sudden, harsh cry of some creature in the forest recalled him to the duty he had undertaken, and he turned back to his watch. Crossing the clearing once more, he threaded his way among the sleeping girls.

The Tuginda was standing beside the fire. She beckoned, and as he approached looked at him with the same shrewd, honest smile which he had first seen at the Tereth stone, before he had known who she was. 'Surely, Kelderek, your watch is long over?' she asked. 'If another were to take my place, saiyett, I could not sleep, so why should I not watch?' 'Your shoulder hurts?'

'No – my heart, saiyett.' He smiled back at her. 'I'm ill at ease. There's good cause.'

'Well, I'm glad you're awake, Kelderek Play-with-the-Children, for we need to talk, you and I.' She moved away from the sleepers and he followed her until she stopped and faced him in the gloom, leaning against a quian trunk. The frogs croaked on and now he could hear the waves lapping in the reeds.

'You heard me say to Melathys and the Baron that we ought to act as though your news were true. That was what I said to them: but you yourself, Kelderek, must know this. If I were unable to perceive the truth that flows from a man's heart into his words, I would not be the Tuginda of Quiso. I am in no doubt that it is indeed Lord Shardik that you have seen.'

He could find no reply and after a little she went on, 'So – of all those countless thousands who have waited, we are the ones, you and I.'

'Yes. But you seem so calm, saiyett, and I – I am full of fear -ordinary, coward's fear. Awe and dread I feel indeed, but most, I am afraid simply of being torn to pieces by a bear. They are very dangerous creatures. Are you not afraid too?' She replied to his question with another. 'What do you know of Lord Shardik?'

He thought for a time and then answered, 'He is from God – God is in him – he is the Power of God – he departed and he is to return. Nay, saiyett, one thinks he knows until another calls for the words. Like all children, I learned to pray for that good night when Shardik will return.' 'But there is such a thing as getting more than we bargain for. Many pray. How many have really considered what it would mean if the prayers were granted?'

'Whatever may come of it, saiyett, I could never wish that he had not returned. For all my fear, I could not wish that I had never seen him.'

'Nor I, for all mine. Yes, I am afraid too; but at least I can thank God that I have never forgotten the real, the true work of the Tuginda – to be ready, in all sober reality, night and day, for the return of Shardik. How often, by night, have I walked alone on the Ledges and thought, "If this were the night – if Shardik were to come now – what should I do? " I knew I could not but fear, but the fear is less -' she smiled again – 'less than I feared. Now you must know more, for we are the Vessels, you and I.' She nodded slowly, holding his eyes among the shadows. 'And what that means we shall learn, God help us, and in His good time.'

Kelderek said nothing. The Tuginda folded her arms, leaned back once more against the tree and went on.

'It is more than a matter of the people falling flat on their faces – much, much more.' Still he said nothing. 'Do you know of Bekla, that great city?' 'Of course, saiyett.' 'Have you ever been there?'

'I? Oh no, saiyett. How should a man like me go to Bekla? Yet many of my skins and feathers have been bought by the factors for the market there. It is four or five days' journey to the south, that I know.' 'Did you know that long ago – no one knows how long – the people of Ortelga ruled in Bekla?' ' We were the rulers of Bekla?'

'We were. Of that empire which stretched nordi to the shores of the Telthearna, west to Paltesh and south to Sarkid and Ikat-Yeldashay. We were a great people – fighters, traders and, above all, builders and craftsmen – yes, we who now skulk on an island in thatched sheds and scratch for a living with ploughs and mattocks on a few pebbly miles of the mainland.

'It was we who built Bekla. To this day it is like a garden of sculpted and dancing stone. The Palace of the Barons is more beautiful than a lily pool when the dragon-flies hover over it. The street of the builders was full, then, of rich men's messengers from far and near, offering fortunes to craftsmen to come and work for them. And those who condescended to go travelled swiftly, for there were broad, safe roads to the frontiers. 'In those days, Shardik was with us. He was with us as the Tuginda is with us now. He did not die. He passed from one bodily home to another.' 'Shardik ruled in Bekla?'

'No, not in Bekla. Shardik was worshipped and Shardik blessed us from a lonely, sacred place on the borders of the empire, to which his suppliants journeyed in humility. Where was that, do you think?' 'I cannot tell, saiyett.'

'It was Quiso, where the shreds of Shardik's power still cling like rags on a windy hedge. And it was the craftsmen of Bekla who made of the whole island a temple for Shardik. They built the causeway from the mainland to Ortelga – the causeway that is now broken -for the bands of pilgrims, after they had assembled on the mainland shore among the Two-Sided Stones, would be brought first to Ortelga and thence make the night-journey to Quiso, just as you made it last night Our craftsmen, too, levelled and paved the terrace where Melathys met you; and over the ravine in front of it they made the Bridge of the Suppliants, a span of iron slender as a rope, by which all strangers had to cross or else go back. But that bridge is fallen this many a year – fallen long before we were born, you and I. Behind the terrace, as you know, lies the Upper Temple, which they cut out of the rock. You did not see the interior, for you were in darkness. It is a high chamber, twenty paces square, hewn throughout thirty years, flake by flake out of the living rock. And more than all this, they made -' 'The Ledges!'

'The Ledges: the greatest artifact in the world. Four generations of stone-masons and builders worked for more than a hundred years to complete the Ledges. Those who began it never saw the end. And they paved the shores of the bay below and built the dwellings for the priestesses and the women.' 'And Shardik, saiyett? How was he housed?'

'He was not. He went where he would. He roamed free – sometimes among the woods, sometimes on the Ledges. But the priestesses hunted for him, fed him and looked after him. That was their mystery.' 'But did he never kill?'

'Yes, sometimes he would kill – a priestess in the Singing, if such was God's will, or perhaps some over-bold suppliant who had approached him rashly or provoked him in some way. Also, he knew the truth in men's hearts and could tell when one was secrctly his enemy. When he killed he did so out of his own divining – we did not set him on to kill. Rather it was our mystery and our skill to tend him so that he did not. The Tuginda and her priestesses walked and slept near Shardik – this was their art, the wonder that men came to see, the wonder that gave Bekla its luck and mastery.' 'And was he mated?'

'Sometimes he was mated, but it did not have to be so. Whom God made Shardik was a matter of signs and omens, of His will rather than of human intent. Sometimes, indeed, the Tuginda would know that she must leave Quiso and go into the hills or the forest with her girls, to find and bring back a mate for Shardik. But again, he might live until he seemed to die, and then they would go to find him reborn and bring him home.' 'How?'

'They had ways of which we still know – or hope that we know, for they have been long unused – both drugs and other arts by which he could be controlled, though only for a little time. Yet none of these was sure. When the Power of God appears in earthly form, he cannot be driven here and there like a cow, or where would be the wonder and the awe? Always, with Shardik, there was uncertainty, danger and the risk of death: and that at least is one thing of which we can still be sure. Shardik requires of us all that we have, and from those who cannot offer so much freely, he may well take it by force.'

She paused, gazing unseeingly into the dark jungle, as though remembering the power and majesty of Shardik of the Ledges and his Tuginda long ago. At last Kelderek asked, 'But – those days came to an end, saiyett?'

'They came to an end. The full story I do not know. It was a sacrilege too vile to be fully known or spoken. All I can tell is that the Tuginda of that time betrayed Shardik and betrayed the people and herself. There was a man – no, not fit to be called a man, for who but one lost to God would dare to contrive such a thing? – a wandering slave-trader. She became – with him – ah!' – and here the Tuginda, overcome, stood silent, her body pressed back against the trunk of the quian, shuddering with disgust and horror. At lcngdi, recovering herself, she went on,

'He – he slew Shardik; and many of the sacred women also. The rest he and his men took for slaves, and she who had once been called Tuginda fled with him down the Telthearna. Perhaps they came to Zeray – perhaps to some other place – I cannot say – it does not greatly matter. God knew what they had done and He can always afford to wait.

'Then the enemies of Bekla rose up and attacked it and we were left without heart or courage to fight them. They took the city. The High Baron died at their hands and what was left of the people fled over the plain and the Gelt mountains to the shores of the Telthearna, for they hoped that if they fled as suppliants to these islands, they might save at least their lives. So they crossed to Ortelga and broke up the causeway behind them. And their enemies left them there, to scratch in the earth and scavenge in the forest, for they had taken their city and their empire and it was not worth their while to attack desperate men in their last stronghold. Quiso too they left them, for they feared Quiso, even though it had become an empty, defiled place. Yet one thing they forbade. Shardik was never to return; and for a long time, until there was no more need, they kept watch to make sure of this.

'The years passed and we became an ignorant, impoverished people. Many Ortelgan craftsmen drifted away to sell their skill in richer places; and those who were left lost their cunning for lack of fine materials and wealthy custom. Now, we venture as far on the mainland as we dare and trade what resources we have – rope and skins – for what we can get from beyond. And the barons dig pits and post shendrons to keep themselves alive on a spit of jungle that no one else requires. Yet still the Tuginda, on her empty island, has work – believe me, Kelderek, she has work – the hardest. Her work is to wait. To be ready, always, for Shardik's return. For one thing has been plainly foretold, again and again, by every sign and portent known to the Tuginda and the priestesses – that one day Shardik will return.'

Kelderek stood for some time looking out towards the moonlit reeds. At length he said, 'And the Vessels, saiyett? You said that we were the Vessels.'

'I was taught long ago that God will bless all men by revealing a great truth through Shardik and through two chosen vessels, a man and a woman. But those vessels He will first shatter to fragments and then Himself fashion them again to His purpose.' 'What does this mean?'

'I don't know,' answered the Tuginda. 'But of this you can be sure, Kelderek Zenzuata. If this is indeed Lord Shardik, as I, like you, believe, then there will be good reason why you and none other have been chosen to find and to serve him – yes, even though you yourself cannot guess what that reason may be.' 'I am no warrior, saiyett. I -'

'It has never been foretold that Shardik's return will necessarily mean that power and rule is to be restored to the Ortelgans. Indeed, there is a saying, "God does not do the same thing twice." ' 'Then, saiyett, if we find him, what are we to do?'

'Simply wait upon God,' she replied. 'If our eyes and cars are open in all humility, it will be shown us what we are to do. And you had better be ready, Kelderek, and submit yourself with a humble and honest heart, for the accomplishment of God's purpose may well depend upon that He can tell us nothing if we will not hear. If you and I are right, our lives will soon cease to be our own to do with as we will.' She began to walk slowly back towards the fire and Kelderek walked beside her. As they readied it she clasped his hand. 'Have you the skill to track a bear?' 'It is very dangerous, saiyett, believe me. The risk -' 'We can only have faith. Your task will be to find the bear. As for me, I have learned in long years the mysteries of the Tuginda, but neither I nor any woman alive has ever performed them, nor ever seen them performed, in the presence of Lord Shardik. God's will be done.'

She was whispering, for they had passed the fire and were standing among the sleeping women.

'You must get some rest now, Kelderek,' she said, 'for we have much to do tomorrow.'

'As you say, saiyett. Shall I wake two of the girls? One alone may give way to fear.'

The Tuginda looked down at the breathing figures, their tranquillity seeming as light, remote and precarious as that of fish poised in deep water. 'Let the poor lasses rest,' she said. 'I will take the watch myself.' 10 The Finding of Shardik As the sun rose higher and moved southward round the hill, the watery glitter from the reed-beds, reflected into the trees along the shore, was sifted upwards through the translucent leaves, to encounter at last and be dimmed by the direct rays penetrating among the higher branches. A green, faint light, twice-reflected, shone down from the under-sides of the leaves, speckling the bare ground between the tree trunks, placing the faintest of shadows beside fallen twigs, glistening in tiny points upon the domes of pebbles. Dappled by the continual movement of the sunlit water, the leaves seemed stirred as though by a breeze. Yet this apparent disturbance was an illusion: there was no wind, the trees were still in the heat and nothing moved except the river flowing outside. 68

Kelderek was standing near the shore, listening to the sounds from the jungle inland. He could tell that since his adventure of two days before – even since their landing the previous night – the confusion in the forest had lessened and the agitation of movement subsided. There were fewer cries of alarm, fewer stardings of birds and flights of monkeys through the trees. No doubt many of the fugitive creatures had already fallen prey to others. Of those surviving, most must have begun to move eastwards down the island in search of food and safety. Some, probably, had taken to the water again, making for the Telthearna's southern bank on the opposite side of the strait. He had seen prints here and there in the mud and narrow passages broken through the reeds. The thought came to him, 'Suppose he should be gone? Suppose he is no longer on the island?'

'We would be safe then,' he thought, 'and my life, like a stream after a cloudburst, would return between the banks where it ran two days ago.' He turned his head towards the Tuginda who, with Bel-ka-Trazet, was standing a little way off among the trees. 'But I could not become once more the man who fled from the leopard. Two days – I have lived two years! Even if I were to know that Shardik will kill me – and like enough he will – still I could not find it in my heart to pray that we should find him gone.'

The more he considered, however, the more he felt it probable that the bear was not far away. He recalled its clumsy, weary gait as it made off through the bushes and how it had winced in pain when it scraped its side against the tree. Huge and fearsome though it was, there had been something pitiable about the creature he had seen. If he were right and it had been hurt in some way, it would be more than dangerous to approach. He had better put out of his mind for the moment all thought of Shardik the Power of God, and address himself to the daunting task – surely sufficient to the day, if ever a task was – of finding Shardik the bear.

Returning to the Tuginda and the Baron, he told them how he read the signs of the forest. Then he suggested that for a start, they might go over the ground which he had covered two days before, and so come to the place where he had first seen the bear. He showed them where he had come ashore and how he had tried to slip unseen past the leopard and then to walk away from it. They made their way inland among the bushes, followed by Melathys and the girl Sheldra,

Since they had left the camp Melathys had spoken scarcely a word. Glancing behind him, Kelderek saw her drawn face, very pale in the heat, as she lifted a trembling hand to wipe the sweat from her temples. He felt full of pity for her. What work was this for a beautiful young woman, to take part in tracking an injured bear? It would have been better to have left her in the camp and to have brought a second girl from among the servants; one dour and stolid as Sheldra, who looked as though she would not notice a bear if it stood on her toe.

As they approached the foot of the hill he led the way through the thicker undergrowth to the place where he had wounded the leopard. By chance he came upon his arrow and, picking it up, fitted the notch to the string of the bow he was carrying. He drew the bow a little, frowning uneasily, for he disliked it and missed his own. This was the bow of one of the girls – too light and pliant: he might have saved himself the trouble of bringing it. He wondered what that surly fool Taphro had done with his bow. 'If ever we get back,' he thought, 'I'll ask the Baron to order it to be restored to me.'

They went on cautiously. 'This is where I fell, saiyett,' he whispered, 'and see, here are the marks the leopard made.' 'And the bear?' asked the Tuginda, speaking as quietly as he.

'He stood below, saiyett,' replied Kelderek, pointing down the bank, 'but he did not need to reach up to strike the leopard. He struck sideways – thus.'

The Tuginda gazed down the extent of the steep bank, drew in her breath and looked first at Bel-ka-Trazet and then back at the hunter. 'Are you sure?' she asked.

'The leopard, as it crouched, was looking upwards into the bear's face, saiyett,' replied Kelderek. 'I can see it still, and the white fur beneath its chin.'

The Tuginda was silent, as though trying to imagine more clearly the gigantic figure that had reared itself, brisding and snarling, above the level of the bank on which they stood. At length she said to Bel-ka-Trazet, 'Is it possible?'

'I would think not, saiyett,' replied the Baron, shrugging his shoulders.

'Well, let us go down,' she said. Kelderek offered her his arm, but she gestured to him to turn back for Melathys. The priestess's breathing was quick and irregular and she leaned hard on him, hesitating at every step. When they reached the foot of the bank she set her back against a tree, bit her lip and closed her eyes. He was about to speak to her when the Tuginda laid a hand on his shoulder. 'You did not sec the bear again after it left you here?'

'No, saiyett,' he replied. 'That's the way it went – through those bushes.' He went across to the tree against which the bear had scraped its injured side. 'It has not returned this way.' He paused a few moments and then, trying to speak calmly, asked, 'Am I to track it now?'

'We must find the bear if we can, Kelderek. Why else have we come?'

'Then, saiyett, it will be best if I go alone. The bear may be close and above all I must be silent.' *I will come with you,' said Bel-ka-Trazet.

He unclasped the chain at his throat, took off his fur cloak and laid it on the ground. His left shoulder, like his face, was mutilated – humped and knotted as the exposed root of a tree. Kelderek thought, 'He wears the cloak to conceal it.'

They had gone only a few yards when the hunter perceived the tracks of the leopard, partly trodden out by those of the bear. The leopard, he supposed, had been injured but had tried to escape; and the bear had pursued it. Soon they came upon the leopard's body, already half-devoured by vermin and insects. There were no signs of a struggle and the bear's trail led on through the bushes to emerge in open, stone-strewn woodland. Here, for the first time, it was possible to see some distance ahead between the trees. They halted on the edge of the undergrowth, listening and watching, but nothing moved and all was quiet save for the chittering of parakeets in the branches.

'No harm in the women coming this far,' said Bel-ka-Trazet in his ear: and a moment later he had slipped noiselessly back into the undergrowth.

Kelderek, left alone, tried to guess which way the bear might have taken. The stony ground showed no tracks, however, and he felt himself at a loss. The Baron did not return and he wondered whether perhaps Melathys might have fainted or been taken ill. At last, growing weary of waiting, he counted a hundred paces to his right and then began to move slowly in a wide half-circle, examining the ground for the least sign – tracks, claw-marks, droppings or shreds of hair.

He had completed perhaps half this task without success when he came once more to the edge of a belt of undergrowth. It did not extend far, for he could glimpse open ground beyond. On impulse he crept through it and came out at the top of a grassy slope, bordered on each side by forest and stretching away to the northern shore of the island and the Telthearna beyond. Some little way from where he stood was a hollow – a kind of pit about a stone's throw across. It was surrounded by bushes and tall weeds, and from somewhere in the same direction came a faint sound of water. He might as well go and drink, he thought, before returning. To recover the bear's tracks, now that they had lost them, would probably prove a long and arduous business.

Setting off across the open ground, he saw that there was indeed a brook running down the slope beyond the hollow. The hollow was not directly in his way, but out of mere curiosity he turned aside and looked down into it. Instantly he dropped on his hands and knees, concealing himself behind a thick clump of weeds near the verge.

He could feel the pulse behind his knee like a finger plucking the tendon and his heart was beating so violently that he seemed to hear it. He waited, but there was no other sound. Cautiously he raised his head and looked down once more.

In contrast to the heat-parched forest all about, the ground below was fresh and verdant. On one side grew an oak, its lower branches level with the top of the pit and spreading over the ground near the brink. The foot of the trunk was surrounded by short, smooth turf and close by, in its shade, lay a shallow pool. There was no outfall and, as he watched, the water, still as glass, reflected two duck, which flew across a shield-shaped cloud, wheeled in the blue and passed out of sight. Along the further edge rose a bank and over this grew a tangle of trepsis vine – a kind of wild marrow, with rough leaves and trumpet-shaped, scarlet flowers.

Among the trepsis the bear was lying on its side, its head drooping towards the water. The eyes were closed, the jaws a little open and the tongue protruding. Seeing for the second time its enormous shoulders and the unbelievable size of its body, the hunter was possessed by the same trance-like sense of unreality that he had felt two days before: yet now, with this, there came a sense of being magnified, of being elevated to a plane higher than that of his own everyday life. It was impossible that there should be such a bear -and yet it lay before him. He had not deceived himself. This could indeed be none other than Shardik, the Power of God.

There was no more room for the least doubt and all that he had done had been right. In an anguish of relief, in fear and awe, he prayed, 'O Shardik, O my lord, accept my life. I, Kelderek Zenzuata -1 am yours to command for ever, Shardik my lord!'

As his first shock began to subside, he saw that he had also been right in guessing that the bear was sick or injured. It was clearly sunk in a coma altogether different from the sleep of a healthy animal. And there was something else – something unnatural and disturbing – what? It was lying in the open certainly, but that was not all. Then he perceived. The trepsis vine grows quickly: it will grow across a doorway between sunrise and sunset. The bear's body was covered here and there with trailing stems, with leaves and scarlet flowers. How long, then, had Shardik lain beside the pool without moving? A day? Two days? The hunter looked more closely, his fear turning to pity. Along the exposed flank, bare patches showed in the shaggy pelt. The flesh appeared dark and discoloured. But surely even dried blood was never so dark? He went a little forward down the slope of the pit. There was blood, certainly; but the wounds appeared dark because they were covered – crawling – with torpid flies. He cried out in disgust and horror. Shardik the leopard-slayer, Shardik of the Ledges, Lord Shardik returned to his people after untold years – was lying fly-blown and dying of filth in a jungle pit of weeds!

'He will die,' he thought 'He will die before tomorrow – unless we can prevent it. As for me, I will go down to help him no matter what the danger.'

He turned and ran back across the open ground, smashed his way noisily through the belt of undergrowth and raced on between the trees towards the place where the Baron had left him. Suddenly he felt himself tripped and fell sprawling with a jolt that left him dazed and winded. As he rolled over, gasping for breath, the floating lights before his eyes cleared to reveal the face of Bel-ka-Trazet, awry as a guttering candle with one staring eye for flame.

'What now?' said the twisted mouth. 'Why do you run about making a noise like a goat in a market pen, you coward?' '… Tripped… my lord…* gasped Kelderek.

'It was I who tripped you, you craven fool! Have you led the bear upon us? Quick, man, where is it?'

Kelderek stood up. His face was cut and he had twisted his knee, but mercifully his wounded shoulder had escaped.

'I was not running from the bear, my lord. I have found him -I have found Lord Shardik: but he may well be in the sleep of death. Where is the Tuginda?'

'I am here,' she said, from behind him. 'How far away, Kelderek?'

'He is close, saiyett – injured and very ill, so far as I can judge. He cannot have moved for over a day. He will die -'

'He will not,' replied the Tuginda briskly. 'If it is indeed Lord Shardik, he will not die. Come, lead us there.'

Halting on the edge of the pit, Kelderek pointed in silence. As each of his four companions reached the verge he watched them closely. Bel-ka-Trazet started involuntarily and then – or so it seemed – averted his eyes, as though actually fearful of what he saw. If fear it was, he had recovered himself in an instant and dropped, like Kelderek, behind the cover of the weeds, whence he stared down into the pit with an intent, wary look, like that of a boatman scanning rough water ahead.

Melathys barely looked down before raising her hands to either bloodless cheek and closing her eyes. Then she turned her back and sank to her knees, like a woman stricken to the heart by dreadful tidings.

Sheldra and the Tuginda remained standing on the verge. Neither appeared startled or made any move to conceal herself. The girl, impassive, had halted behind and a little to the left of her mistress, her feet apart, her weight on her heels, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. It was certainly not the posture of one who was afraid. For a few moments she stood looking down without moving. Then, raising her head with the air of one recalling herself to her proper business, she looked towards the Tuginda and waited.

The Tuginda's hands were clasped together at her waist and her shoulders rose and slowly fell as she breathed. Her stance gave a curious impression of weightlessness, as though she might actually be about to float down into the hollow. The poise of her head was alert as a bird's; yet for all her eager tension she seemed no more afraid than the servant standing at her elbow.

Bel-ka-Trazet rose to his feet and the Tuginda turned and stared at him gravely. Kelderek remembered yet again how Melathys, two nights before, had gazed silently into the faces of the men who had stumbled their way to the Upper Temple; and how he himself had been in some way divined and selected. No doubt the Tuginda too possessed the power to perceive without asking questions.

After a few moments, turning away from Bel-ka-Trazet, the Tuginda said calmly, 'Sheldra, you sec that it is Lord Shardik?'

'It is Lord Shardik, saiyett,' replied the girl, in a level tone of liturgical response.

'I am going down and I wish you to come with me,' said the Tuginda.

The two women had already descended some yards when Kelderek, coming to himself, started after them. As he did so Bel-ka-Trazet caught him by the arm.

'Don't be a fool, Kelderek,' he said. 'They'll be killed. Even if they're not, this nonsense need be no business of yours.'

Kelderek stared at him in astonishment. Then, without contempt, certainly, for this grey and ravaged warrior, but with a new and strange sense of having travelled beyond his authority, he answered, 'Sir, Lord Shardik is close to death.' Quickly inclining Ids head and raising his palm to his forehead, he turned and followed the two women down the steep slope.

The Tuginda and her companion had reached the floor of the hollow and were walking swiftly, with as little hesitation as the women with the lantern had walked into the fire: and Kelderek, since he judged it better not to leap or run for fear of rousing the bear, had not overtaken them before they stopped on the nearer side of the pool. The grass was damp underfoot and he guessed that it must be watered and the pool filled from the same underground source as that which fed the brook on the open slope beyond.

The pool, knee-deep and perhaps a little broader than a man could jump, was fringed all along the further side by the scarlet trumpet-flowers, half-hidden among their masses of palmate, hairy leaves. There was a foetid smell of filth and sickness and a buzzing of flies. The bear had not moved and they could hear its laboured breadiing – a sodden, injured sound. The muzzle was dry, the pelt staring and lustreless. A glimpse of the bloodshot white of one eye showed beneath the half-closed lid. At close quarters its size was overwhelming. The shoulder rose above Kelderek like a wall, beyond which could be seen only the sky. As he stood uncertain the bear, without opening its eyes, lifted its head for a moment and then wearily let it fall again. Even so a man in grave illness tosses and moves, seeking relief, but then, finding in movement nothing but wretchedness and futility, desists.

Without thought of danger Kelderek took half a dozen splashing steps across the pool, plucked the cloth from his wounded shoulder and, soaking it in the water, held it to the bear's muzzle and moistened its tongue and lips. The jaws moved convulsively and he, seeing that the great beast was trying to chew the cloth, soaked it once more and squeezed the water into the side of its mouth.

The Tuginda, bending over the bear's flank with a frond of green fern in one hand, had evidently got rid of the flies in one of the wounds and was examining it. This done, she began searching over the whole body, sometimes parting the pelt with her fingers, sometimes using the stalk of the frond as a probe; Kelderek guessed that she was removing flies' eggs and maggots, but her face showed no disgust, only the same care and deliberation that he had seen while she dressed his shoulder.

At length she paused and beckoned to him where he stood in the pool. He scrambled up the bank, the hollow stems of the trepsis bursting under his feet with a soft 'Nop! Nop!' Feeling for a hold, he inadvertently grasped for a moment the curved claws of the off fore-paw, each as long as his hand and thick as his finger. He reached the top, stood beside Sheldra and looked down at the body.

The bear's belly and flank were marked with long, singed streaks, black or dirty grey in colour, as though scored with a burning torch or hot iron bar. In several places the pelt, four fingers thick, had been burned away altogether and the bare flesh, withered and contracted into furrows and proud ridges, was split by cracks and open sores. Here and there hung a cluster of bluebottles' eggs or a maggot that the Tuginda had overlooked. Several of the wounds were putrescent, oozing a glistening, green matter that had discoloured the shaggy hair and clotted it into stiff, dry spikes. A pulpy mess of yellow, withering trepsis showed that the helpless creature had urinated where it lay. No doubt, thought Kelderek, the hind-quarters too were fouled and full of maggots. But he felt no revulsion – only pity and a determination at all costs to play his part in saving Shardik's life.

'There is much to be done,' said the Tuginda, 'if he is not to die. We must work quickly. But first, we will go back and speak with the Baron and I will tell the priestess what we require.'

As they made their way up the side of the pit she said to Kelderek, 'Take heart, clever hunter. You had the skill to find him and God will grant us the skill to save him, never fear.'

'It was no skill of mine, saiyett -' he began, but she motioned him to silence and, turning her head, began speaking in low tones to Sheldra. ' – need both tessik and theltocarna he heard, and a few moments later,'- if he recovers we must attempt the Singing.'

Bel-ka-Trazet was standing where Kelderek had left him. Melathys, white as the moon, had risen to her feet and was standing with eyes fixed on the ground.

'There are many wounds,' said the Tuginda, 'and several are flyblown and poisoned. He must have fled from the fire across the river – but of that I was already sure when Kelderek first told us his tale.'

Bel-ka-Trazet paused as though deliberating with himself. Then, with the air of one resolved, he looked up and said, 'Saiyett, let us understand one another, you and I. You are the Tuginda and I am the High Baron of Ortelga – until someone kills me. The people consent to obey us because they believe that each of us, by one means or another, can keep them safe. Old tales, old dreams – people can be ruled and led by these, as long as they believe in them and in those who draw from them power and mystery. Your women walk on fire, take away men's names out of their minds, plunge knives into their arms and take no hurt. That is good, for the people fear and obey. But of what help to us is this business of the bear, and what use do you mean to make of! it?'

'I don't know,' answered the Tuginda, 'and this is no time to be discussing such things. At all costs we have to act quickly.'

'Nevetheless, hear me, saiyett, for you will need my help and I have learned from long experience what is most likely to follow from this deed and that. We have found a large bear – possibly the largest bear that has ever lived. Certainly I would not have believed that there could be such a bear – that I grant you. But if you heal it, what will follow? If you remain near it, it will kill you and your women and then become a terror to the whole of Ortelga, until men are forced to hunt and destroy it at the risk of their lives. Even supposing that it does not kill you, at the best it will leave the island and then you, having tried to make use of it and failed, will lose influence over the people. Believe me, saiyett, you have nothing to gain. As a memory and a legend, Shardik has power and that power is ours, but to try to make the people believe that he has returned can end in nothing but harm. Be advised by me and go back, now, to your island.'

The Tuginda waited in silence until he had finished speaking. Then, beckoning to the priestess, she said,

'Melathys, go at once to the camp and tell the girls to bring here everything we are going to need. It will be best if they paddle the canoes round the shore and land down there.' She pointed across the pit to the distant, northern shore at the foot of the long slope.

The priestess hurried away without a word and the Tuginda turned back to the hunter.

'Now, Kelderek,' she said, 'you must tell me. Is Lord Shardik too sick to cat?'

'I am sure of that, saiyett. But he will drink, and he might perhaps drink blood, or even take food which has been chewed small, as they sometimes do for babies.'

'If he will, so much the better. There is a medicine which he needs, but it is a herb and must not be weakened by being mixed with water.' 'I will go at once, saiyett, and kill some game: I only wish I had my own bow.' 'Was it taken from you at the Upper Temple?' 'No, saiyett.' He explained.

'We can see to that,' she said. 'I shall need to send to Ortelga on several matters. But go now and do the best you can.'

He turned away, half-expecting Bel-ka-Trazet to call him back. But the Baron remained silent and Kelderek, walking round the pit, made his way to the brook and at last drank his fill before setting out.

His hunting lasted several hours, partly because, remembering the leopard, he moved through-the woods very cautiously, but mainly because the game was shy and he himself nervous and disturbed. He had trouble with the bow and more than once missed an easy mark. It was late in the afternoon before he returned with two brace of duck and a paca – a poor bag by his usual standards, but one for which he had worked hard.

The girls had lit a fire down-wind of the pit. Three or four were bringing in wood, while others were making shelters from branches bound with creeper. Melathys, seated by the fire with a pestle and mortar, was pounding some aromatic herb. He gave the duck to Neelith, who was baking on a hot stone, and laid the paca aside to draw and skin himself. But first he went across to the pit.

The bear was still lying among the scarlet trepsis, but already it looked less foul and wretched. Its great wounds had been dressed with some kind of yellow ointment. One girl was keeping the flies from its eyes and ears with a fan of fern-fronds, while another, with a jar of the ointment, was working along its back and as much as she could reach of the flank on which it was lying. Two others had brought sand to cover patches of soiled ground which they had already cleaned and hoed with pointed sticks. The Tuginda was holding a soaked cloth to the bear's mouth, as he himself had done, but was dipping it not in the pool but in a water-jar at her feet. The unhurried bearing of the girls contrasted strangely with the gashed and monstrous body of the terrible creature they were tending. Kelderek watched them pause in their work, waiting as the bear stirred restlessly. Its mouth gaped open and one hind leg kicked weakly before coming to rest once more among the trepsis. Recalling what the Baron had said, Kelderek thought for the first time, 'If we do succeed in healing it, what, indeed, will happen then?' 11 Bel-ka-Trazet's Story Waking suddenly, Kelderek was aware first of the expanse of stars and then of a black, shaggy shape against the sky. A man was standing over him. He raised himself quickly on one arm.

'At last!' said Bel-ka-Trazet, thrusting his foot once more into his ribs. 'Well, before long you will be sleeping sounder, I dare say.'

Kelderek clambered to his feet. 'My lord?' He now caught sight of one of the girls standing, bow in hand, a little behind the Baron.

'You took the first watch, Kelderek,' said Bel-ka-Trazet. 'Who took the second?' 'The priestess Melathys, my lord. I woke her, as I was told.' 'How did she strike you? What did she say?'

'Nothing, my lord; that is, nothing that I remember. She seemed – as she seemed yesterday; I think she may be afraid.' Bel-ka-Trazet nodded. 'It is past the third watch.' Again Kelderek looked up at the stars. 'So I see, my lord.'

'This girl here woke of her own accord and went to take her watch, but found no one else awake except the two girls with the bear. The girl who was supposed to have the watch before her had not been woken and the priestess is nowhere to be found.' Kelderek scratched an insect-bite on his arm and said nothing.

'Well?' snarled the Baron. 'Am I to stand here and watch you scratch yourself like a mangy ape?' 'Perhaps we should go down to the river, my lord?'

'I had thought as much myself,' replied the Baron. He turned to the girl. 'Where did you leave the canoes yesterday afternoon?'

'When we had unloaded them, my lord, we pulled them out of the water and laid them up among some trees near by.'

'You need not wake your mistress," said Bel-ka-Trazet. 'Take your watch now and be ready for us to return.'

'Should we not be armed, my lord?' asked Kelderek. 'Shall I get a bow?'

'This will do,' replied the Baron, plucking the girl's knife from her belt and striding away into the starlight.

It was easy going to the river, following the course of the brook over the dry, open grass. Bel-ka-Trazet walked with the help of a long thumb-stick which Kelderek remembered to have seen him trimming the evening before. Soon they could hear the night-breeze hissing faintly in the reeds. The Baron paused, gazing about him. Near the water the grass grew long and the girls, in dragging the canoes, had trampled a path through it. This Bel-ka-Trazet and Kelderek followed from the shore to the trees. They found only three canoes, each stowed carefully and covered by the low branches. Near them, a single furrow ran back towards the river. Kelderek crouched down over it. The torn earth and crushed grass smelt fresh and some of the weeds were still slowly moving as they re-erected their flattened leaves.

Bel-ka-Trazet, leaning on his stick like a goat-herd, stood looking out over the river. There was a smell of ashes on the breeze but nothing to be seen. 'That girl had some sense,' he said at length. 'No bear for her.'

Kelderek, who had been hoping against hope that he might be proved wrong, felt a dreary disappointment; an anguish like that of a man who, having been robbed, reflects how easily all might have been prevented; and a sense of personal betrayal by one whom he had admired and honoured, which he knew better than to try to express to the Baron. Why could Melathys not have asked him to help her? She had turned out, he thought sorrowfully, like some beautiful, ceremonial weapon, all fine inlay and jewels, which proved to have neither balance nor cut. 'But where has she gone, my lord? Back to Quiso?'

'No, nor to Ortelga, for she knows they would kill her. We'll never see her again. She'll end in Zeray. A pity, for she could have done more than I to persuade the girls to go home. As it is, we've simply lost a canoe; and one or two other things as well, I dare say.'

They began to make their way back beside the brook. The Baron walked slowly, jabbing with his stick at the turf, like one turning something over in his mind. After a time he said, 'Kelderek, you were watching me when I first looked down into the pit yesterday. No doubt you saw that I was afraid.'

Kelderek thought, 'Does he mean to kill me?' 'When I first saw the bear, my lord,' he answered, 'I threw myself on the ground for fear. I -' Bel-ka-Trazet raised a hand to silence him.

'I was afraid, and I am afraid now. Yes, afraid for myself – to be dead may be nothing, yet who relishes the business of dying? -but afraid for the people also, for there will be many fools like you; and women, too, perhaps, as foolish as those up there,' and he swung the point of his stick towards the camp.

After a little, 'Do you know how I came by my pretty looks?' he asked suddenly. And then, as Kelderek said nothing, 'Well, do you know or not?' 'Your disfigurement, my lord? No – how should I know?' 'How should I know what tales are told in the pot-houses of Ortelga?*

'I'm something of a stranger to those, my lord, as you know, and if there is a tale, I never heard it.'

'You shall hear it now. Long ago, while I was still little more than a lad, I used to go out with the Ortelgan hunters – now with one and now with another, for my father was powerful and could require it of them. He wanted me to learn both what hunting teaches lads and what hunters can teach them; and I was ready enough to learn on my own account. I travelled far from Ortelga. I have crossed the mountains of Gelt and hunted the long-horned buck on the plains south-west of Kabin. And I have crossed to Deelguy and stood two hours up to my neck in the lake of Klamsid to net the golden cranes at dawn.'

They had reached the lower end of a pool into which the brook came down in a little fall something higher than a man. On either side extended a steep bank, and beside the pool a melikon stretched its trim, crisp-leaved branches over the water. This is the tree that the peasants call 'False Lasses'. The bright, pretty berries that follow the flowers are unfit to eat and of no use, but towards summer's end their colour turns to a glinting, powdery gold and they fall of their own accord in the stillest of air. Bel-ka-Trazet stooped, drank from his hands and then sat down with his back against the bank and the long stick upright between his raised knees. Kelderek sat uneasily beside him. Afterwards, he remembered the harsh voice, the slow turning of the stars, the sound of the water and now and again the light plop as a berry fell into the pool.

'I have hunted with Durakkon, and with Senda-na-Say. I was with the Barons of Ortelga thirty years ago, when we hunted the Blue Forest of Katria as the guests of the king of Terekenalt and killed the leopard they called the Blacksmith. That was King Karnat, who was almost a giant. We were merry after the hunt and we weighed him against the Blacksmith; but the Blacksmith turned the scale. The Barons were pleased with the part I had played in the hunt and they gave me the Blacksmith's eye-teeth: but I gave them to a girl later. Yes,' said Bel-ka-Trazet reflectively, 'I gave them to a girl who used to be glad to sec my face.

'Well, it's no matter, lad, what I've seen or known, though I sit here bragging to the stars that saw it long ago and can tell the truth from the lies. By the time I had become a young man there was not a baron or a hunter in Ortelga who was not eager and proud to hunt with me. I hunted with whom I would and declined company that I thought too poor for the name I had made for myself. I was -ah I -' He broke off, thumping the butt of his stick on the grass -'You have heard old, wrinkled women round a fire, have you, talking of their lovers and their beauty?

'One day a lord from Bekla, one Zilkron of the Arrows, came to visit my father with presents. This Zilkron had heard of my father in Bekla – how he drew the best hunters about him and of the skill and courage of his son. He gave my father gold and fine cloth; and the heart of it was that he wanted us to take him hunting. My father did not fancy this soap-using lord from Bekla but, like all the flea-bitten barons of Ortelga, he could not afford to refuse gold; so he said to me, "Come, my lad, we'll take him across the Telthearna and find him one of the great, savage cats. That should send him home with a tale or two." '

'Now the truth was that my father knew less than he supposed about the great cats – the cats that weigh twice as much as a man, kill cattle and alligators and rip open the shells of turtles when they come ashore to lay their eggs. The plain truth is that they are too dangerous to hunt, unless one traps them. By this time I knew what could and could not be done and did not need to prove to myself that I was no coward. But I did not want to tell my father that I knew better than he. So I began to think how I could best go to work behind his back to save our lives.

'We crossed the Telthearna and began by hunting the green-and-black water-serpents, the leopard-killers, that grow to four or five times the length of a man. Have you hunted them?' 'Never, my lord,' replied Kelderek.

'They are found by night, near rivers, and they are fierce and dangerous. They have no poison, but kill by crushing. We were resting by day, so that I spent much idle time with Zilkron. I came to know him well, his pride and vanity, his splendid weapons and equipment which he did not know how to use, and his trick of capping hunters' talk with tales he had heard elsewhere. And always I worked on him to make him think that the great cats were not worth his while and that he would do better to hunt some other beast. But he was no coward and no fool and soon I saw that I would have to pay some real price to change his mind, for he had come of set purpose to buy danger of which he could go home and boast in Bekla. At last I spoke of bears. What trophy, I asked, could compare with a bearskin, head and claws and all? Inwardly I knew that the danger would still be great, but at least I knew of bears that they are not constantly savage and that they have poor sight and can sometimes be confused. Also, in rocky or hilly country you can sometimes get above them and so use a spear or an arrow before they have seen you. The long and short of it was that Zilkron decided that what he wanted was a bear and he spoke to my father.

'My father was in two minds, for as Ortelgans we had no business to be killing bears. At first he was afraid of the idea, but we were far from home, the Tuginda would never get to hear and none of us was pious or devout At length we set off for the Shardra-Main, the Bear Hills, and reached them in three days.

' We went up into the hills and hired some villagers as trackers and guides. They led us higher, on to a rocky plateau, very cold. The bears, they said, lived there but often came down to raid farms and hunt in the woods below. No doubt the villagers had learned something from the bears, for they too stole all they could. One of them stole a tortoiseshell comb that Zilkron had given me, but I never found out which was the thief.

'On the second day we found a bear – a big bear that made Zilkron point and chatter foolishly when he saw it moving far off against the sky. We followed it carefully, for I was sure that if it came to feel that it was being driven, it would slip away down one or another side of the mountain, and we would lose it altogether. When we reached the place where we had seen it, it had disappeared, and there was nothing to do but to go higher and hope to get a sight of it from above. We did not see it again all that day. We camped high up, in the best shelter we could find; and very cold it was.

'The next morning, just as it was getting light, I woke to hear strange noises – breaking sticks, a sack dragged, a pot rolling on its side. It was not like fighting, but more like some drunken fellow stumbling about to find his bed. I was lying in a little cleft like a passage, out of the wind, and I got up and went outside to see what was amiss.

'What was amiss was the bear. The Beklan lout on guard had fallen asleep, the fire had burned low and no one had seen the bear come shambling into the camp. He was going through our rations, such as they were, and helping himself. He had got hold of a bag of dried tendriona and was dragging it about. The village fellows were all lying flat, and still as stones. As I watched, he patted one of them with his paw, as much as to tell him not to be afraid. I thought, "If I can get up on some high spot, where he can't reach me, I can wait until he is clear of the camp and then put an arrow in him": for I was not going to wound him in the camp, among men who had had no-warning. I slipped back for my bow and climbed up the side of the little cleft where I had been sleeping. I came out on top of the rock and there was our fine friend just below me, with his head buried in the bag, munching away and wagging his tail like a lamb at the ewe. I could have leaned down and touched his back. He heard me, pulled his head out and stood up on his hind legs: and then – you may believe this or not, Kelderek, just as you please -he looked me in the face and bowed to me, with his front paws folded together. Then he dropped on all fours and trotted away.

'While I was staring after him, up comes Zilkron and two of his servants, all set to follow. I put them off with some excuse or other – a lame one it must have been, for Zilkron shrugged his shoulders without a word and I saw his men catch each other's eye. I left them to make what they cared out of it. I was like you, Kelderek -and like every man in Ortelga, I dare say. Now that I had come face to face with a bear, I was not going to kill him and I was not going to let Zilkron kill him either. But I did not know what to do, for I could not say, "Now let us all turn round and go home."

'My father, after he had heard Zilkron's story, asked me privately whether I had been afraid. I tried to tell him something of what I felt, but he had never actually encountered a bear and merely looked perplexed.

'That day I bribed the leader of the villagers to guide us in such a way that it would look as though we were after the bear, but actually to take us where we were unlikely to find it. It was nothing to him -he merely grinned and took the price. By nightfall we had seen nothing more and I fell asleep wondering what I should do next

'I was woken by Zilkron. A full moon was setting and frost was glittering on the rocks. His face was full of triumph – and mockery too, I fancied. He whispered, "He's here again, my lad!" He was holding his big, painted bow with the green silk tassels and handgrip of polished jet. As soon as he was sure I was awake, he left me. I got up and stumbled after him. The villagers were huddled behind a rock but my father and Zilkron's two servants were standing out in the open.

'The bear was certainly coming. He was coming like a fellow on his way to the fair – trotting along and licking his lips. He'd seen our fire and smelt the food. I thought, "He has never come across men until yesterday. He does not know we mean to kill him." The fire was burning bright enough but he did not seem afraid of it. He came clambering over a little pile of rocks and began nosing round the foot. I suppose the cooks had left some food there.

'Zilkron laid a hand on my shoulder and I could feel his gold rings against my collar-bone. "Don't be afraid," he said. "Don't be afraid, my lad. I'll have three arrows in him before he has time even to think of charging." He went closer. I followed him and the bear turned and saw us.

'One of Zilkron's men – an old fellow who had looked after him since he was a child – called out "No nearer, my lord." Zilkron flapped his hand behind him without looking back and then drew his bow.

'At that moment the bear stood up once more on his hind legs and looked straight at me, his head inclined and his front paws one over the other, and gave two little grunts, "Ahl Ahl" As Zilkron loosed the string I struck his arm. The arrow split a branch in the fire and the sparks flew up in a shower.

'Zilkron turned on me very quietly, as though he had been half-expecting something of the sort. "You stupid little coward," he said, "get back over there." I stepped in front of him and walked towards the bear – my bear, who was begging a man of Ortelga to save him from this golden oaf.

' "Get out of the way!" shouted Zilkron. I looked round to answer him and in that instant the bear was down upon me. I felt a heavy blow on my left shoulder and then he had wrapped me about and was clutching me against him, gnawing and biting at my face. The wetness and sweetness of his breath was the last thing I felt.

'When I came to myself, it was three days later and we were back in the hill village. Zilkron had left us, for my father had heard him call me coward and they had quarrelled bitterly. We stayed there two months. My father used to sit by my bed and talk, and hold my hand, and tell old tales, and then fall silent, the tears standing in his eyes as he looked at what was left of his splendid son.'

Bel-ka-Trazet gave a short laugh. 'He took it hard. He'd learned less of life than I, now I'm his age. But that's no matter. Why do you think I sent my servants back from Quiso and came here unattended? I will tell you, Kelderek, and mark me well. As you are a man of Ortelga, so you cannot help feeling the power of the bear. And every man in Ortelga will feel it, unless we see to it – you and I – that things go otherwise. If we cannot, then in one way or another all Ortelga will be set awry and smashed, just as my face and body have been smashed. The bear is a folly, a madness, treacherous, unpredictable, a storm to wreck and drown you when you think yourself in calm water. Believe me, Kelderek, never trust the bear. He'll promise you the power of God and betray you to ruin and misery.'

Bel-ka-Trazet stopped and looked up sharply. From beyond the top of the bank a heavy, stumbling tread shook the branches of the mclikon so that a perfect cascade of berries tumbled into the pool. Then, immediately above them, there appeared against the brilliant stars a huge, hunched shape. Kelderek, springing to his feet, found himself looking up into the bleared and peering eyes of Shardik. 12 The Baron's Departure Without getting up or taking his eyes from the bear, Bel-ka-Trazet groped in the water behind him, picked up a stone and tossed it into the darkness beyond the bank. As it fell the bear turned its head and the Baron stepped quickly into the pool, wading under the cascade and into the narrow space between the curtain of falling water and the bank behind. Kelderek remained where he was as the bear once more looked down at him. Its eyes were dull and there was a trembling, now in the front legs and now in the head itself. Suddenly the creature's massive shoulders convulsed. In a low, sharp voice, Bel-ka-Trazet said, 'Kelderek, come back here!'

Once more the hunter found himself without fear, sharing, with spontaneous insight at which he had no time to wonder, the bear's own perceptions. They, he knew, were dulled with pain. Feeling that pain, he felt also the impulse to wander blindly away, to seek relief in restlessness and movement. To strike, to kill would have been a still greater relief, but the pain had induced an insuperable feebleness and confusion. He realized now that the bear had not seen him. It was peering, not at him but at the slope of the bank and hesitating, in its weakness, to descend it As he still stood motionless, it sank slowly down until he could feel upon his face the moisture of its breath. Again Bel-ka-Trazet called, 'Kelderek!'

The bear was sliding, toppling forward. Its fall was like the collapse of a bridge in a flood. As though through the creature's own dimmed eyes, Kelderek saw the ground at the foot of the bank rising to meet him and lurched aside from the suddenly-perceived figure of a man – himself. FIc was standing in the water as Shardik, with a commotion like that of shipwreck, clawed, fell and rolled to the edge of the pool. He watched him as a child watches grown men fighting – intensely, shockingly aware, yet at the same time unafraid for himself. At length the bear lay still. Its eyes were closed and one of the wounds along its flank had begun to bleed, slow and thick as cream, upon the grass.

It was growing light and Kelderek could hear from behind him the first raucous cries in the awakening forest. Without a word-Bel-ka-Trazet stepped through the waterfall, drew his knife and dropped on one knee in front of the motionless bulk. The bear's 86 head was sunk on its chest, so that the long jaw covered the slack of the throat. The Baron was moving to one side for his blow when Kelderek stepped forward and twisted the knife out of his hand.

Bel-ka-Trazet turned on him with a cold rage so terrible that the hunter's words froze on his lips.

'You dare to lay your hands on me!' whispered the Baron through his teeth. 'Give me that knife!'

Confronted, for the second time, by the anger and authority of the High Baron of Ortelga, Kelderek actually staggered, as though he had been struck. To himself, a man of no rank or position, obedience to authority was almost second nature. He dropped his eyes, shuffled his feet and began to mutter unintelligibly. 'Give me that knife,' repeated Bel-ka-Trazet quietly.

Suddenly Kelderek turned and fled. Clutching the knife, he stumbled through the pool and clambered to the top of the bank. Looking back, he saw that Bel-ka-Trazet was not pursuing him, but had lifted a heavy rock in both hands and was standing beside the bear, holding it above his head.

With a hysterical feeling like that of a man leaping for his life from a high place, Kelderek picked up a stone and threw it. It struck Bel-ka-Trazet on the back of the neck. As he flung back his head and sank to his knees, the rock slipped from between his hands and fell across the calf of his right leg. For a few moments he knelt quite still, head thrown upwards and mouth gaping wide; then, without haste, he released his leg, stood up and looked at Kelderek with an air of purposeful intent more frightening even than his anger.

The hunter knew that if he were not himself to die, he must now go down and kill Bel-ka-Trazet – and that he could not do it. With a low cry he raised his hands to his face and ran blindly up the course of the brook.

He had gone perhaps fifty yards when someone gripped his arm. 'Kelderek,' said the Tuginda's voice, 'what has happened?'

Unable to answer, bemused as the bear itself, he could only point, with a shaking arm, back towards the fall. At once she hastened away, followed by Sheldra and four or five of the girls carrying their bows.

He listened, but could hear nothing. Still full of fear and irresolution, he wondered whether he might yet escape Bel-ka-Trazet by hiding in the forest and later, somehow, contriving to cross to the mainland. He was about to resume his flight when suddenly it occurred to him that he was no longer alone and defenceless against the Baron, as he had been three days before. He was the messenger of Shardik, the bringer of God's tidings to Quiso. Certainly the Tuginda, if she knew what had been attempted and prevented by the pool that morning, would never stand by and allow Bel-ka-Trazet to kill him.

'We are the Vessels, she and I,' he thought. 'She will save me. Shardik himself will save me; not for love, or because I have done him any service, but simply because he has need of me and dicrefore it is ordained that I am to live. God is to shatter the Vessels to fragments and Himself fashion them again to His purpose. Whatever that may mean, it cannot mean my death at the hands of Bel-ka-Trazet.'

He rose to his feet, splashed through the brook and made his way back to the fall. Below him the High Baron, leaning on his staff, was deep in talk with the Tuginda. Neither looked up as he appeared above them. One of the girls had stripped herself to the waist and, on her knees, was staunching with her own garments the flow of blood from the bear's opened wound. The rest were standing together a little distance away, silent and watchful as cattle round a gate.

'Well, I have done what I could, saiyett,' said the Baron grimly. 'Yes, if I could I would have killed your bear sure enough, but it was not to be.' 'That in itself should make you think again,' she answered.

'What I think of this business will not change,' said he. 'I do not know what you intend, saiyett, but I will tell you what I intend. The fire has brought a large bear to this island. Bears are mischievous, dangerous creatures, and people who think otherwise come to loss and harm through them. As long as it remains in this lonely place, to risk lives is not worthwhile, but if it moves down the island and begins to plague Ortelga, I promise you I will have it killed.'

'And I intend nothing but to wait upon the will of God,' replied the Tuginda.

Bel-ka-Trazet shrugged again. 'I only hope the will of God will not turn out to be your own death, saiyett. But now that you know what I intended, perhaps you have it in mind to tell your women to put me to death? Certainly I am in your power.'

'Since I have no plans and you have been prevented from killing Lord Shardik, you are doing us no harm.' She turned away with an air of indifference, but he strode after her.

'Then two things more, saiyett. First, since I am to live, perhaps you will permit me now to return to Ortelga. If you will give me a canoe, I will see that it returns to you. Then, as for the hunter fellow, I have already told you what he has just done. He is my subject, not yours. I trust you will not hinder me from finding and killing him.'

'I am sending two of the girls to Quiso with a canoe. They will put you off at Ortelga. I cannot spare the hunter. He is necessary to me.'

With this the Tuginda walked away and began speaking to the girls with complete absorption, pointing first up the slope and then down towards the river as she gave her instructions. For a moment, the Baron seemed about to follow her again. Then he shrugged his shoulders, turned and climbed the bank, passed Kelderek without a glance and walked on in the direction of the camp. He was suppressing a limp and his terrible face appeared so grey and haggard that Kelderek, who had been preparing to defend himself as best he could, trembled and averted his eyes as though from some fearful apparition. 'He is afraid!' he thought, 'He knows now that he cannot prevail against Lord Shardik, and he is afraid!'

Suddenly he sprang forward, calling, 'My lord! O my lord, forgive me!' But the Baron, as though he had heard nothing, stalked on and Kelderek stood looking after him – at the livid bruise across the back of his neck and the heavy, black pelt swinging from side to side above the grass. He never saw Bel-ka-Trazet again. 13 The Singing All that day Shardik lay beside the brook, shaded, as the sun crossed the meridian, by the bank above and the boughs of the melikon. The two girls who had been watching in the pit during the night had acted prudently enough when the bear first struggled to its feet and wandered up the slope. At first they had thought that it was too weak to reach the top, but when it had actually done so and then, though almost exhausted, had begun to make its way downhill towards the brook, the older girl, Muni, had followed it, while her comrade went to wake the Tuginda. In fact, Muni had been only a short distance away when Shardik collapsed beside the pool, but had not seen Kelderek in her haste to return and bring the Tuginda to the place.

The girls sent to Quiso were back before midnight, for without the long detour across the river their upstream journey was much shorter than the first. They brought fresh supplies of the cleansing ointment, together with other medicines and a herbal narcotic. This the Tuginda immediately administered to the bear herself, soaked in thin segments of tendriona. For some hours the drug had little effect, but by morning Shardik was sleeping heavily and did not stir while the burns were cleaned once more.

On the afternoon of the following day, as Kelderek was returning from the forest, where he had been setting snares, he came upon Sheldra standing on the open grass a little way from the camp. Following her gaze he saw, some distance off, the figure of an unusually tall woman, cloaked and cowled, striding up the slope beside the brook. He recognized her as the lantern-bearer whom he had met by night upon the shore of Quiso. Still further away, by the river, six or seven other women were evidently setting out for the camp, each carrying a load. 'Who is that?' asked Kelderek, pointing.

'Rantzay,' replied Sheldra, without turning her eyes towards him.

There was still not one of the girls with whom Kelderek felt at case. Even among themselves they spoke little, using words as they used knives or thread, simply as a means to complete their tasks. There was no contempt for him, however, in their sombre reticence, which in fact he found daunting for precisely the opposite reason – because it suggested respect and seemed to confer upon him a dignity, even an authority, to which he was unused. They saw him, not as the girls in Ortelga saw a young man but, as they saw everything else, in the light of the cult to which their lives were devoted. Their manner showed that they felt him to be a person of importance, the one who had first seen and recognized Lord Shardik and had then come, at the risk of his. life, to bring the news to the Tuginda. Sheldra's present reply was not intended contemptuously. She had answered him as briefly as she would have answered any of her companions and had even, perhaps, forgotten that he, unlike them, did not know the island priestesses by name. She felt it an omission rather than a slight that she should in effect have told him nothing. She had not used as many words as were necessary for informing him, just as she might (though practical and competent) have put too little water in a pail or not enough wood on the fire. Sure of this at least, he summoned the confidence to speak firmly.

'Tell me who Rantzay is,' he said, 'and why she and those other women have been brought here.'

For a few moments Sheldra did not answer and he thought, 'She is going to ignore me.' Then she replied, 'Of those who came with the Tuginda, Melathys was the only priestess. The rest o? us are novices or servants.'

'But Melathys must have been at most as young as any,' said Kelderek.

'Melathys was not an Ortelgan. She was rescued from a slave-camp during the Beklan civil wars – the wars of the Heldril – and brought to the Ledges when she was a child. She learned many of the mysteries very early.' 'Well?' demanded Kelderek, as the girl said no more.

'When the Tuginda knew that Lord Shardik had indeed returned and that we must remain here to tend and cure him, she sent for the priestesses Anthred and Rantzay, together with the girls whom they are instructing. When Shardik recovers they will be needed for the Singing.'

She fell silent again, but then broke out suddenly, 'Those who served Lord Shardik long ago had need of all their courage and resolution.'

'I believe you,' answered Kelderek, looking down to where the bear, like a crag beside the pool, still lay in drugged sleep. Yet in the same moment there rose in his heart an abandoned elation and the conviction that to none but the Tuginda herself had it been given to feel so intensely as he the fierce and mysterious divinity of Shardik. Shardik was more than life to him, a fire in which he was ready -nay, eager – to be consumed. And for that very reason Shardik would transform but not destroy him – this he knew. As though with foreboding, he trembled for an instant in the sultry air, turned, and made his way back to the camp.

That night the Tuginda talked with him again, walking slowly back and forth along the bank above the fall, where stood burning that same flat, green-rush-shaded lantern that he had followed across the leaping tree-trunk in the dark. Rantzay, a head taller than himself, kept pace with them on the Tuginda's other side, and as he saw her checking her long stride out of deference to the Tuginda and himself, he remembered with a certain wry amusement how he had groped and clambered after her through the steep woods. They spoke of Shardik, and the gaunt, silent priestess listened attentively.

'His wounds are clean,' said the Tuginda. 'The poison has almost left them. The drugs and medicines always work strongly on any creature, whether human or animal, that has never known them before. We can be almost certain now that he will recover. If you had found him only a few hours later, Kelderek, he would have been past our help.' Kelderek felt that now at last was the time to ask her the question that had been flickering in his mind for the past three days, vanishing and reappearing like a firefly in a dark room. ' What are we going to do, saiyett, when he recovers?'

'I do not know any more than you. We must wait until we are shown.'

He blundered on. 'But do you mean to take him to Quiso – to the Ledges?'

'I mean?' For a moment she looked at him coldly, as she had looked at Bel-ka-Trazet; but then answered in a brisk, matter-of-fact tone, 'You must understand, Kelderek, that it is not for us to make schemes and put them into practice upon Lord Shardik. It is true, as I told you, that sometimes, long ago, it was the Tuginda's task to bring Shardik home to the Ledges. But those were days when we ruled in Bekla and all was ordered and sure. Now, at this moment, we know nothing, except that Lord Shardik has returned to his people. His message and his purpose we cannot yet discern. Our work is simply to wait, to be ready to perceive and to carry out God's will, whatever it may be.' They turned and began to walk back towards the fall.

'But that does not mean that we are not to think shrewdly and act prudently,' she went on. 'By the day after tomorrow the bear will no longer be drugged and will begin to recover its strength. You are a hunter. What do you think it will do then?'

Kelderek felt perplexed. His question had been returned to him without an answer. In spite of what he had heard her say to Bel-ka-Trazet, it had never occurred to him that the Tuginda had not in her mind some plan for bringing Shardik to the Ledges. What had been puzzling him was how it was to be done, for even if the bear were to remain drugged the difficulties seemed formidable. Now he realized, with a shock, that she intended simply to stand by while this enormous wild animal regained its natural strength. If this was indeed – as she evidently believed – the course of humility and faith in God, it was of a kind beyond his experience or understanding. For the first time his trust in her began to waver.

She read his thoughts. 'We are not buying rope in the market, Kelderek. or selling skins to the factor. Nor are we labouring for the High Baron by digging a pit in the forest; or even choosing a wife. We are offering our lives to God and Lord Shardik and pledging ourselves humbly to accept whatever He may vouchsafe to give in return. I asked you – what is the bear likely to do?'

'It is in a strange place that it does not know, saiyett, and will be hungry after its illness. It will look for food and may well be savage.' 'Will it wander?'

'I have been thinking that soon we shall all be forced to wander. We have little food left and I cannot hunt alone for so many.'

'Since we can be sure that the High Baron would refuse to send us food from Ortelga, we must do the best we can. There are fish in the river and duck in the reeds, and we have nets and bows. Choose six of the girls and take them out to hunt with you. There may be little enough to share at first, but there will be more as they learn their business.' 'It can be done for a time, saiyett -' 'Kelderek, are you impatient? Whom have you left in Ortelga?' 'No one, saiyett. My parents are dead and I am not married.' 'A girl?' He shook his head, but she continued to gaze at him gravely.

'There are girls here. Commit no sacrilege, now of all times, for the least ill to follow would be our death.' He broke out indignantly, 'Saiyett, how can you think -'

She only looked steadily at him, holding his eyes as they paced on and turned about once more under the stars. And before his inward sight rose the figure of Melathys on the terrace; Melathys, dark-haired, white-robed, with the golden collar covering her neck and shoulders; Melathys laughing as she played with the arrow and the sword; trembling and sweating with fear on the edge of the pit. Where was she now? What had become of her? His protest faltered and ceased.

Next day began a life which he was often to recall in after years; a life as clear, as simple and immediate as rain. If he had ever doubted the Tuginda or wondered what was to come of her humility and faith, he had no time to remember it. At first the girls were so awkward and stupid that he was in despair and more than once on the point of telling the Tuginda that the task was beyond him. On the first day, while they were driving a kedana towards open ground, Zilthe, a mere child and the youngest of his huntresses, whom he had picked for her quickness and energy, mistook his movement in a thicket for that of the quarry and loosed an arrow that passed between his arm and body. They killed so little all day that he felt compelled to spend the night fishing. In the starlit shallows they netted a great bramba, spine-finned and luminous as an opal. He was about to spear it when the ill-fixed anchor-stake carried away and the fish, plunging heavily, took half the net down with it into the deep water. Nito bit her lip and said nothing.

By the second evening the whole camp was hungry and the thin, ragged bear was kept half-drugged and fed with scraps of fish and ill-spared flour-cakes baked in the ashes.

But necessity brings out a desperate skill in the clumsiest. Several of the girls were at least passable shots and on the third day they were lucky enough to kill five or six geese. They feasted that night by the fire, telling old stories of Bekla long ago, of the hero Deparioth, liberator of Yelda and founder of Sarkid, and of Fleitil, immortal craftsman of the Tamarrik Gate; and singing together in strange harmonies unknown to Kelderek, who listened with a kind of tremulous uncase as their voices followed each other round and down, like the fall of the Ledges themselves between the woods of Quiso.

Soon, indeed, he had forgotten everything but the life of the moment – the wet grass of early morning, when he stood to pray with hands raised towards the distant river; the smell of the trepsis as they searched beneath its leaves for the little gourds that had ripened since the day before; the green light and heat of the forest and the tense glances between the girls as they waited in ambush with arrows on the string; the scent of jasmine at evening and the chunk chunk, regular as a mill-wheel, of the paddles as they made their way upstream to net some likely pool. After the first few days the girls learned quickly and he was able to send them out by twos and threes, some to fish, some to follow a trail in the forest or hide in the reeds for wildfowl. He was kept busy making arrows – for they lost far too many – until he had taught Muni to make them better than he could himself. Ortelga he put from his mind, and his fear of Bel-ka-Trazet's revenge. At first he dreamed vividly of the Baron, who rose out of the ground with a face of broken stones and beckoned him to follow into the forest, where the bear was waiting; or walked upon the shore and threw back his cowl to reveal a face of flickering heat, half-consumed, red and grey as the glowing surface of a log flaking in the fire. But soon his dreams changed, turning to vaporous, elusive impressions of stars and flowers reflected in dark water, or of clouds drifting over ruined walls far off upon an empty plain; or he would seem to hear the Tuginda speaking sorrowfully, accusing him, in words that he could never recall, of some ill deed as yet unperformed. It was not that he had ceased either to fear for his life or to believe that the future held danger. He had simply put these things aside, living, like the other creatures of forest and river, from hour to hour, his senses full of sounds and smells, his mind concerned only with his craft. Often he snatched sleep as a beast snatches it, by night or day wherever he found himself: and would be roused by a grave, breathless girl, with news of a flight of duck off-shore or a band of monkeys approaching through the trees a mile away. All quarry brought in was accepted without question; and often, when Neelith gave him his share out of the iron pot hanging over the fire, he could not imagine what meat it might be, only feeling glad that some of the girls had evidently been successful without his help.

It was on the fifth or sixth day after Sheldra had returned from Ortelga with his bow (which she had apparently been able to recover without troubling Bel-ka-Trazet) that Kelderek was standing with Zilthe a little inside the forest, about half a mile from the camp. They were in hiding beside a barely-visible track that led to the shore, waiting for whatever animal might appear. It was evening and the sunlight had begun to redden the branches above him. Suddenly he heard at a distance the sound of women's voices singing. As he listened, the hair rose on his neck. He remembered the wordless songs by the fire. To his mind those had suggested, transmuted indeed yet still familiar, the sound of wind in leaves, of waves on the river, of the pitching of canoes in choppy water and the falling of rain. What he heard now resembled the movement, over centuries, of things that to men seem motionless only because their own lives are short: the movement of trees as they grow and the, of stars altering their relative places in the heavens, of mountains slowly ground away through millennia of heat, frost and storm. It was like the building of a city. Great, squared blocks of antiphonal sound were swung and lowered into place, one upon another, until the heart stood far below, gazing up at the clouds marching endlessly across the dark line of the completed ramparts. Zilthe was standing with closed eyes and outstretched palms. Kelderek, though he saw nothing and felt afraid, seemed to himself to have been lifted to some plane on which there was no more need of prayer, since the harmony that is continually present to the mind of God had been made audible to his own prostrate, worshipping soul. He had sunk to his knees and his mouth was twisted like that of a man in agony. Still listening, he heard the singing diminish and then slide quickly into silence, like a diver into deep water.

He rose and began to walk slowly towards the edge of the forest. Yet it was as though he, awake, observed himself moving in a dream. The dream was his own life of time and sensation, of hunger and thirst, which he now watched from a pinnacle of shining silence. He saw his forearm scratched by a spray of trazada and felt, far-off in his flesh, an echo of pain. Slowly, very slowly, he floated down to rejoin his body. They came together as broken reflections resolve on the surface of a pool returning to stillness: and he found himself looking out across the open grass and scratching his arm.

Shardik, the sun sinking behind him, was approaching down the slope, now rambling uncertainly here and there, now halting to gaze about at the trees and the distant river. At some distance from him, in a wide half-circle, moved eight or nine of the women, among them Rantzay and the Tuginda. When he hesitated they too paused, swaying in the rhythm of their chant, equidistant one from another, the evening wind stirring their hair and the fringes of their tunics. As he went on they moved with him, so that he remained always central and ahead of them. None showed haste or fear. Watching, Kelderek was reminded of the instinctive, simultaneous turning of a flock of birds in the air, or a shoal of fish in clear water.

It was plain that Shardik was half-bemused, though whether from the continuing effect of the drug or the hypnotic sound of the singing the hunter could not tell. The women pivoted about him like wind-tossed branches radiating from the trunk of a tree. Suddenly Kelderek felt a longing to join in their dangerous and beautiful dance, to offer his life to Shardik, to prove himself one among those to whom the power of Shardik had been revealed and through whom that power could flow into the world. And with this longing came a conviction – though if he were wrong it mattered nothing – that Shardik would not harm him. He stepped out from beneath the trees and made his way up the slope.

Until he was less than a stone's throw off, neither the women nor the bear gave any sign of having seen him. Then the bear, which had been moving towards the river rather than the forest, stopped, turning its lowered head towards him. The hunter also stopped and stood waiting, one hand raised in greeting. The setting sun was dazzling him, but of this he was unaware. Through the bear's eyes, he saw himself standing alone on the hillside.

The bear peered uncertainly across the sunlit grass. Then it came towards the solitary figure of the hunter, approaching until it appeared as a dark mass before his light-blinded eyes and he could hear its breathing and the dry, clashing sound of its claws. Its rank smell was all about him, yet he was aware only of the smell of himself to Shardik, puzzled and uncertain in his awakening from illness and drugged sleep, afraid because of his own weakness and his unfamiliar surroundings. He sniffed suspiciously at the human creature standing before him, but remained unstartled by any sudden movement or act of fear on its part. He could hear once more the voices, now on one side of him, now on the other, answering each other in layers of sound, bewildering him and confusing his savagery. He went forward again, in the only direction from which they did not come, and as he did so the human creature, towards whom he felt no enmity, turned and moved with him towards the twilight and safety of the woods.

At a signal from the Tuginda the women stood still, each in her place, as Shardik, with the hunter walking beside him, entered the outskirts of the forest and disappeared among the trees. 14 Lord Kelderek That night Kelderek slept on the bare ground beside Shardik, with no thought of fire or food, of leopards, snakes or other dangers of darkness. Nor did he think of Bel-ka-Trazet, of the Tuginda or of what might be taking place in the camp. As Melathys had laid the sword's edge to her neck, so Kelderek lay secure beside the bear. Waking in the night, he saw its back like a roof-ridge against the stars and returned at once into a sleep tranquil and reassured. When morning came, with a grey cold and the chittering of birds in the branches, he opened his eyes in time to catch sight of Shardik wandering away among the bushes. He rose stiffly to his feet and stood shivering in the chill, flexing his limbs and touching his face with his hands as though his wondering spirit had but newly entered this body for the first time. In some other place, he knew, in some other region, invisible yet not remote, insubstantial yet more real than the forest and the river, Shardik and Kelderek were one creature, the whole and the part, as the scarlet trumpet-flower is part of the rough-leaved, spreading stolon of the trepsis vine. Musing, he made no attempt to follow the bear, but when it was gone turned back to seek his companions.

Almost at once he came upon Rantzay alone in a clearing, cloaked against the cold and leaning upon a staff. As he approached she bent her head, raising her palm to her brow. Her hand shook, but whether from cold or fear he could not tell. 'Why are you here?' he asked with quiet authority.

'Lord, one of us remained near you all night, for we did not know – we did not know what might befall. Are you leaving Lord Shardik now?'

'For a while. Tell three of the girls to follow him and try to keep him in sight. One should return at noon with news of where he is. Unless he can find it for himself he will need food.'

She touched her forehead again, waited as he walked away and then followed behind him as he returned to the camp. The Tuginda had gone down to bathe in the river and he ate alone, Neelith bringing him food and drink and serving him in silence on one knee. When at last he saw the Tuginda returning he went to meet her. The girls with her at once fell back, and again he talked with her, alone beside the fall. Now, however, it was the hunter who questioned, the Tuginda paying him close heed and answering him carefully yet without reserve, as a woman answers a man whom she trusts to guide and help her.

'The Singing, saiyctt,' he began. 'What is the Singing and what is its purpose?'

'It is one of the old secrets,' she replied, 'of the days when Lord Shardik dwelt upon the Ledges. It has been preserved from that time to this. Those long ago who offered the Singing showed, by that, that they offered their lives also. This is why no woman on Quiso has ever been ordered to become a singer. Each who determines to attain to it must do so of her own accord: and though we can teach her what we know ourselves, always there is a part which remains a matter of God's will and her own. The art cannot be sought for self-advancement or to please others, but only to satisfy the singer's own longing to offer all that she has. So if the will and devotion of the singers were to falter – or so I was taught – the power of the Singing would falter too. Before yesterday evening no woman now alive had ever taken part in offering the Singing to Lord Shardik. I thanked God when I saw that its power had not been lost.' 'What is the power?'

She looked at him in surprise. 'But you know what it is, Lord Kelderek Zenzuata. Why do you ask for words, to go on crutches, when you have felt it leaping and burning in your heart?'

'I know what the Singing did to me, saiyett. But it was not to me that it was offered last night.'

'I cannot tell you what takes place in the heart of Lord Shardik. Indeed, I believe now that you know more of that than I. But as I learned long ago, it is a way by which we come nearer to him and to God. By worshipping him thus we put a narrow, swaying bridge across the ravine that separates his savage nature from our own; and so in time we become able to walk without stumbling through the fire of his presence.'

Kelderek pondered this for some little time. At length he asked, 'Can he be controlled, then – driven – by the Singing?'

She shook her head. 'No – Lord Shardik can never be driven, for he is the Power of God. But the Singing, when it is offered devoutly, with sincerity and courage, is like that power which we have over weapons. It overcomes for a time his savagery and as he grows accustomed to it, so he comes to accept it as the due worship which we offer to him. Nevertheless, Kelderek she smiled – 'Lord Kelderek, do not think that any man or woman could have done what you did last night, simply because of the Singing. Shardik is always more dangerous than lightning, more uncertain than the Telthearna in the rains. You are his Vessel, or you would now be broken like the leopard.' 'Saiyett, why did you let the Baron go? He hates Lord Shardik.'

'Was I to murder him? To overcome his hard heart with a harder? What could have come of that? He is not a wicked man, and God sees all. Did I not hear you yourself begging him for forgiveness as he strode away?'

'But do you believe that he will be content to leave Lord Shardik unharmed?'

'I believe, as I have always believed, that neither he nor anyone can prevent Lord Shardik from performing that which he has come to perform and imparting that which he has come to impart. But I say yet again – what will ensue we can only await with humility. To devise some purpose of our own and try to make use of Lord Shardik for that end – that would be sacrilege and folly.'

'So you have taught me, saiyett; but now I will dare to advise you also. We should perfect our service of Lord Shardik as a man prepares the weapons with which he knows he will have to fight for his life. Worship yields nothing to the slipshod and half-hearted. I have seen men's worship which, if it had been a roof they had built, would not have kept out half an hour's rain; nor had they even the wit to wonder why it left their hearts cold and yielded them neither strength nor comfort. Lord Shardik is in truth the Power of God, but his worshippers will reap only what they sow. How many women have we, both here and on Quiso, who are adept in the Singing and able to serve close to Lord Shardik without fear, as they did long ago?'

'I cannot yet tell – perhaps no more than ten or twelve. As I said, it is more than a matter of skill and brave hearts, for it may turn out that Lord Shardik himself will accept some but not others. You know how a child in Ortelga may train to be a dancer and dream of breaking hearts in Bekla; but she grows up unshapely or too tall and there's an end.'

'All this we must search out and prove, saiyett – his singers must be sure as an Ortelgan rope in a storm, his hunting-girls observant and tireless. He will wander now; and as he wanders, so we can perfect our work, if only we are given time.' 'Time?' she asked, standing still to face him – and he saw once more the shrewd, homely woman with the ladle who had met him below the Ledges. 'Time, Kelderek?'

'Time, saiyett. For sooner or later, either Shardik will go to Ortelga, or Ortelga will come to him. On that day, he will either prevail or be extinguished; and whichever way it goes, the issue will come about through us alone.' 15 Ta-Kominion Kelderek crouched listening in the dark. There was no moon and the forest overhead shut out the stars. He could hear the bear among the trees and tried once again to make out whether it was moving away. But silence returned, broken only by the vibrant rarking of the frogs on the distant shore. After some time his straining ears caught a low growl. He called, 'Peace, Lord Shardik. Peace, my lord,' and lay down, hoping that the bear might rest if it felt that he himself was tranquil. Soon he realized that his fingers were thrusting into the soft ground and that he was holding himself tense, ready to leap to his feet He was afraid: not only of Lord Shardik in this uncertain, suspicious mood, but also because he knew that Shardik himself was uneasy – of what, he could not tell.

For days past the bear had been wandering through the woods and open places of the island; sometimes splashing among the reeds along the southern, landward shore, sometimes turning inland to climb the central ridge, yet always tending eastwards, downstream, towards Ortelga behind its jungle wall of traps and palisades. Night and day his votaries followed him. In all their hearts burned the fear of violent death, overborne by a wild hope and faith – hope for they knew not what, faith in the power of Lord Shardik returned to his people through fire and water.

Kelderek himself remained constantly near the bear, observing all that it did, attentive to its moods and ways – its frightening habit of ramping from side to side in excitement or anger; its indolent curiosity; the slow-moving strength, like that of a great head of water, with which it would turn over a heavy stone, lift a fallen log or push down a young tree; the dog-like snarling of its lip in suspicion, its shrinking from the heat of the rocks in the mid-day glare and its preference for sleeping near water. At each sunset the Singing was repeated, the women forming their wide half-circle about the bear, sometimes smoothly and symmetrically in open ground, often with more difficulty among trees or on rocky slopes. During the early days most of those in the camp, ecstatic in their wonder and joy at the return of Shardik, came forward to offer themselves, eager to show their devotion greater than their fear and to put to the proof the age-old skills they had learned on the Ledges but never envisaged that they would be required to practise in earnest On the fourth evening, when the singers had formed a wide circle round a grove near the shore, the bear suddenly burst through the undergrowth and struck down the priestess Anthred with a blow that almost broke her body in two. She died at once. The Singing ceased, Shardik disappeared into the forest and it was not until noon of the following day that Kelderek, having tracked him with difficulty for many hours, found him at the foot of a rocky bank on the further side of the island. When the Tuginda reached the place she walked forward alone and stood in prayer until it became plain that Shardik would not attack her. That evening she led the Singing herself, moving without haste and gracefully as a girl whenever the bear came towards her.

A day or two later Sheldra, stepping backwards on a steep slope, stumbled and struck her head. Shardik, however, ignored her, shambling past as she lay dazed among the stones. When Kelderek raised her to her feet she resumed her place without a word.

At length, as the Tuginda had envisaged in speaking to Kelderek of the days gone by, Shardik seemed to become accustomed to the attendance of the women and at times almost to play his part -towering erect and gazing at them, or prowling back and fordi as though to try whether they had their art at command. Three or four – Sheldra among them – proved able to carry themselves steadily in his presence. Others, including some who had spent years in the service of Quiso and acquired every inflection and cadence, after a few evenings could no longer control their fear. To these Kelderek allowed respites, calling in turn upon one or another to play her part as best she could. As the Singing began he would watch them closely, for Shardik was keen to perceive fear and seemed angered by it; glaring with a look half-intelligent, half-savage, until the victim, her last shreds of courage consumed, broke the circle and turned tail, weeping with shame. As often as he could Kelderek would forestall this anger, calling the girl out of the circle before the bear came down upon her. His own life he risked daily, but Shardik never so much as threatened him, lying quictly while the hunter approached to bring him food or examine his almost-healed wounds.

Indeed, as the days passed, returning thoughts of Ortelga and the High Baron came to cause him more fear than did Lord Shardik. Daily it grew harder to find and kill sufficient game, and he realized that in their eastward course down the island they must already have come close to exhausting its never-plentiful resources. As often as their wanderings brought them to the southern shore, the mainland bank of the Telthearna showed nearer across the tapering strait How far were they now from Ortelga? What watch was Bel-ka-Trazet keeping upon them and what would happen when they came – as at last they must – to the Dead Belt, with its maze of concealed snares? Even if he were able in some way to induce Shardik to turn back, what could follow but starvation? Daily, with the women looking on, he and the Tuginda stood before the bear and prayed aloud, 'Reveal your power, Lord Shardik! Show us what we are to do!' Alone with the Tuginda, he spoke of his anxieties, but was met always by a calm, untroubled faith with which, had it come from anyone else, he would have lost patience.

Now, crouching in the dark, he was full of doubt and uncertainty. For the first time since he had found him in the pit, he knew himself afraid of Shardik. All day they had killed no game and at sunset, such had been the bear's threatening ferocity that the Singing had faltered and ceased, ragged and unpropitious. As night fell, Shardik had wandered away into dense forest Kelderek, taking Sheldra with him, had followed as best he could, expecting at any moment to find himself the quarry and the bear the hunter; until at last after how long he could not tell (for he could not see the stars), he had suddenly caught the sounds of Shardik's rambling movement not far off. There was no telling whether the bear would return to attack them, settle to sleep or go further into the forest and Kelderek, already weary, set himself to remain alert and wait.

After a time Sheldra slept, but he himself lay listening intently to each minute noise in the dark. Sometimes he thought he could hear the bear's breathing or the rustle of leaves disturbed by its claws. As the hours wore on he became intuitively aware that its mood had changed. It was no longer surly and ready to attack, but uneasy. He had never known or imagined Lord Shardik afraid. What could be the cause? Might some dangerous creature be close at hand – a great cat swum from the north bank, or one of the giant, nocturnal snakes of which Bel-ka-Trazet had spoken? He rose to his feet and called once more, 'Peace, Lord Shardik. Your power is of God.' At this moment, from somewhere in the darkness, a man whistled. Kelderek stood rigid. The blood pulsed in his head – five, six, seven, eight. Then, quietly but unmistakably, the whistler ran through the refrain of a song, 'Senandril na kora, senandril na ro'. An instant later Sheldra grasped his wrist 'Who is it, my lord?' 'I cannot tell,' he whispered. 'Wait'

The girl strung her bow with barely a sound and then guided his hand to the hilt of the knife at her belt He drew it and crept forward. Close by, to his left, the bear growled and coughed. The thought of Lord Shardik pierced by the arrows of unseen enemies filled him with a desperate haste and anger. He began to push his way more quickly through the bushes. Immediately, from the darkness on his right a low voice called, 'Who's there?'

Whoever had spoken, at least he himself was now between him and Shardik. Peering, he could just make out the trunks of trees black against a paler darkness – the open sky above the river. A faint wind stirred the leaves and a star shone twinkling through.

Now came the sound of movement like his own – the snapping of sticks and rusde of foliage. Suddenly he saw what he had been waiting for – an instant's flicker between one tree trunk and the next, so close that he was startled.

Ten paces – eight? He wondered whether Bal-ka-Trazet himself might be close at hand and in the same moment remembered the Baron's trick by the pool, when he had distracted the bear. His groping fingers could not find a stone, but he squeezed together a handful of moist earth and tossed it upwards through the space between the tree-trunks. It fell beyond with a disturbance of leaves, and as it did so he dashed forward. He blundered into a man's back – a tall man, for his head struck him between the shoulders. The man staggered and Kelderek, flinging one arm up and round his neck, jerked him backwards. The man fell heavily on top of him and he twisted clear, raising Sheldra's knife.

The man had not uttered a sound and Kelderek thought 'He is alone.' At this he felt less desperate, for Bel-ka-Trazet would have known better than to send one man to tackle Lord Shardik and his armed and devoted followers. He pressed the point of the knife against his throat and was about to call to Sheldra when the man spoke for the first time. 'Where is Lord Shardik?*

'What's that to you?' answered Kelderek, thrusting him back as he tried to sit up. 'Who are you?'

The man, amazingly, laughed. 'I? Oh, I'm a fellow who's come from Ortelga through the Dead Belt with a fancy to be knocked half silly for whistling in the dark. Was it Lord Shardik that taught you to crush a man's throat from behind like a Deelguy footpad?'

Whether really unafraid or only concealing his fear, he certainly seemed in no hurry to get away.

'Come through the Dead Belt by night?' said Kelderek, startled in spite of himself. 'You're lying!'

'As you please,' replied the other. 'It's no matter now. But in case you don't know it, you're only a few yards from the Belt yourself. If the wind changes you'll smell the smoke of Ortelga. Shout loud and the nearest shendron will hear you.'

This, then, was the cause of Shardik's uneasiness and sullen fear! He must already have smelt the town ahead. Suppose he should wander into the Dead Belt before morning? 'God will protect him,' thought Kelderek. 'When daylight comes, he may turn back. But if he does not, I will follow him into the Belt myself.'

It crossed his mind also that by morning the bear would be close to starving and therefore still more savage and dangerous: but he put the thought aside and spoke once more to the stranger. 'Why have you come?' he asked. 'What are you seeking?' 'Are you the hunter, the man who first saw Lord Shardik?'

'My name is Kelderek, sometimes called Zenzuata. It was I who brought the news of Lord Shardik to the Tuginda.'

'Then we have met already; in the Sindrad, on the night when you set out for Quiso. I am Ta-Kominion.'

Kelderek remembered the tall young baron who had sat on the table and bantered him in his cups. He had felt confused and uncertain then, a common man among his betters, facing trouble alone. But matters had changed since.

'So Bel-ka-Trazet sent you to murder me,' he said, 'and you found me less helpless than you expected?'

'Well, you're right this far,' replied Ta-Kominion. 'It's true that Bel-ka-Trazet is seeking your death, and it's true that that's the reason why I'm here. But now listen to me, Kelderek Play-with-the-Children. If you suppose that I've come alone through the Dead Belt on the off-chance of coming across one man in miles of forest and killing him, then you must believe I'm a sorcerer. No, I came to look for you because I want to talk to you; and I came by land and darkness because I didn't want Bel-ka-Trazet to know of it. I had no idea where you might be, but it seems I've been lucky – if what you call luck's a half-broken neck and a blow on the elbow. Now tell me, is Lord Shardik here?'

'He is not a bow-shot away. Speak no ill of him, Ta-Kominion, if you want to live.'

'You must understand me better, Kelderek. I'm here as Bel-ka-Trazet's enemy and the friend of Lord Shardik. Let me tell you something of what has been happening in Ortelga since you left.'

'WaitI' Kelderek gripped the other's arm. Crouching together and listening, they could both hear Shardik moving in the forest 'Sheldral' called Kelderek. 'Which way is he going?'

'He is returning, my lord, by the way he came. Shall I go back and warn the Tuginda?' 'Yes, but try not to lose him if he should wander further.'

'So,' said Ta-Kominion after a few moments, 'they obey you, do they, Lord Kelderek? Well, if all I hear is true, you deserve it. Bel-ka-Trazet told the barons that you struck him down.'

'I threw a stone. He was about to kill Lord Shardik while he lay helpless.'

'So he said. He spoke to us of the folly and danger of allowing the people to believe that Lord Shardik had returned. "Those women'll ruin us all," he said, "with that half-burnt bear they've got hold of. God knows what superstitious rubbish will come of it if they're not packed off where they belong. It'll be the end of all law and order." He sent men out to look for you at the western end of the island, but you'd gone from there, it seems. One of them tracked you eastwards almost as far as this; but when he came back, it was to me he spoke and not to Bel-ka-Trazet.' 'Why?' Ta-Kominion laid a hand on Kelderek's knee.

'The people know the truth,' he said. 'One of the Tuginda's girls came to Ortelga – but even if she had not, truth blows through the leaves and trickles between the stones. The people are weary of Bel-ka-Trazet's harshness. They are speaking secretly of Lord Shardik and waiting for him to come. If need be they are ready to die for him. In his heart, Bel-ka-Trazet knows this and he is afraid.'

'Why,' answered Kelderek, 'that morning when he left the Tuginda, I saw the fear already in his eyes. I pitied him then and I still pity him, but he has set himself up against Lord Shardik. If a man chooses to stand in the path of a fire, can the fire take pity on him?' 'He thinks -' Kelderek cut him short. 'What do you want with me, then?'

'The people are not BcI-ka-Trazet. They know that Lord Shardik has returned to them. I have seen decent, simple men in Ortelga weeping for joy and hope. They are ready to rise against Bel-ka-Trazet and to follow me.' 'To follow you? Follow you where?'

In the solitude of the forest, Ta-Kominion dropped his voice still lower. 'To Bekla, to regain what is ours.'

Kelderek drew in his breath. 'You're seriously planning to attack Bekla?'

'With the power of Lord Shardik we cannot fail. But Kelderek, will you join us? They say you have no fear of Shardik and can persuade him as you will. Is that true?'

'Only in part. God has made of me a vessel let down into Shardik's well and a brand lighted at his fire. He suffers me; nevertheless, to be near him is always to be in danger.' 'Could you bring him to Ortelga?'

'Neither I nor anyone can drive Lord Shardik. He is the Power of God. If it is so ordained, he will come to Ortelga. Yet how can he pass the Dead Belt? And what is it that you mean to do?'

'My own men are ready to strike now. They will make him a path through the Belt: along this shore – that's the easiest place. Only let Lord Shardik come and every man will join us – yes, join you and me, Kelderek! As soon as we are sure of Ortelga, then we'll march at once on Bekla, before they can learn the news.'

'You make it sound easy, but I tell you again – I cannot bring Lord Shardik here and dierc like an ox. He acts by the will of God, not by my will. If you had seen him – faced him – you would understand.'

'Let me face him, then. I will stand before him and beg him to help us. I'm not afraid. I tell you, Kelderek, all Ortelga is eager only to serve him. If I entreat him, he will give me a sign.'

'Very well. Come with me. You shall speak with the Tuginda and face Lord Shardik for yourself. But if he gives you death, Ta-Kominion -'

'He will give much where much is offered. I have come to offer my life. If he takes it, why then I shall not live to be disappointed. If he gives it back to me, I will spend it in his service.'

For answer Kelderek got to his feet and began to lead the way through the undergrowth. The night was still so dark, however, that he found it all but impossible to tell in which direction the camp lay. Feeling before them, they stumbled repeatedly; once Ta-Kominion nearly put out his eye on a pointed branch that pierced him under the lower lid. Kelderek could not tell how far they had gone or whether they might not have wandered in a circle. At last he glimpsed, still some distance off, the glow of the fire. He made towards it cautiously, expecting at any moment to be challenged by one of the girls, or even to come upon Lord Shardik himself, prowling in his angry hunger. But they met no one and at length, looking about him in perplexity, he realized that they had already reached the outskirts of the camp. They walked on side by side over the open ground, strewn with cut branches and garments, where the women had been sleeping, and so up to the untended remains of the fire.

Kelderek's perplexity became bewilderment. The place was deserted. Apparently there was no one whatever in the camp. He called, 'Rantzay! Sheldra!' Receiving no reply, he shouted, 'Where are you?'

The echo died and for some moments he could hear only the frogs and the rustle of the leaves. Then he was answered.

'Lord Kelderek!' It was Rantzay's harsh voice from the direction of the shore. 'Come quickly, my lord!'

He had never heard her so much excited. He began to run and as he did so realized that it was growing light – light enough, at all events, to enable them to see their way to the river. As they approached he could make out the canoes and closer at hand the cloaked shapes of the women crowding together, some apparently up to their knees in the water. All were pressing forward, pointing, moving their heads one way and another and peering through the reeds. Beside the tall figure of Rantzay he recognized that of the Tuginda and ran towards her. 'What is it, saiyett? What has happened?*

Without speaking she took his arm and led him down into the shallows, among the reeds taller than his head. Between these, something had smashed a path and down this narrow lane he gazed out towards the Telthearna beyond. Over it the light was increasing, a windless, twilit grey without shadows. The far trees were motionless, the flowing water smooth. Still the Tuginda waded forward and still he followed, wondering at her haste. Waist-deep, feet groping, they reached the outer edge of the reed-belt and to right and left the extent of the river opened before them. The Tuginda, one hand on his shoulder, pointed downstream to where a wide ripple like an arrow-head was breaking the calm surface. At its apex, the only living thing to be seen in all the expanse of trees and water, Shardik was swimming, his muzzle thrust upwards at the sky as the current carried him towards Ortelga. 16 The Point and the Causeway Without an instant's hesitation Kelderek flung himself forward into the deep water. Immediately – almost before his shoulders had broken the surface – he felt the current turning him bodily and sweeping him downstream. For a few moments he struggled, afraid as he found himself helpless against it. Then, awkwardly, he began to swim, bending back his neck to keep his head above water, splashing with his arms and bobbing up and down. Looking ahead, his water-blurred eyes could still make out the shape of the bear like a rick swept away in a flood.

Soon he realized that some freak of the river was carrying him towards the centre, where the flow was swifter yet. Even if he should happen to touch upon a random spit or submerged bank, such as formed and dissolved continually in the strait, he would not be able to stand up in a current of this strength. Already he was beginning to tire. He tried to look about him for a floating branch or anything to which he might cling, but could see nothing. His feet, trailing deep, encountered some tangled, loom-like thing, intersticed and pliant, and as he jerked himself free pain flickered up his leg and was gone as quickly as a spurt of flame. An instant later he spun round in an eddy, swallowed water, sank and, as his head came up again, found that he was facing upstream and still drifting on. The women among the reeds were now far-off, indistinguishable figures, appearing and disappearing as his eyes rose and fell. He tried to turn and face ahead, and as he did so heard across the water a spluttering call – 'Kelderek! Inshore!'

Ta-Kominion, swimming behind him, was about half-way between himself and the shore which they had left. Although he appeared to be holding his own more easily than Kelderek, it was nevertheless clear that he had little breath for talking. He flung up one arm and gestured sharply towards the reeds, then fell once more to his task. Kelderek saw that he was trying to overtake him, but could not because of the slower current inshore. Indeed, the gap between them was widening. Ta-Kominion raised his head and seemed to shout again, but Kelderek could hear nothing except his own hard breathing and the splash and gurgle of the water. Then, as he bobbed upwards for a moment, he caught faintly the words shore before the point!'

As he grasped the baron's meaning, fear overcame him. He was being carried along the south-eastern shore of Ortelga at a speed as fast as that of a man walking. As long as he remained in midstream he could not count on drifting against the submerged causeway that ran from the eastern point to the mainland. More likely he would be carried over or through it, pummelled down by this very current in which he was now struggling for his life. And if he were carried below Ortelga, he could not hope to come ashore alive.

He began to kick out and to clutch at the surface, panting and tiring himself still further. How far was it now to the point? The right, mainland bank seemed actually closer than that of Ortelga: yet how could that be? Then he recognized the place. The reeds had been cut back, exposing a sheet of open water beyond which, on the island shore, stood the zoan tree. Tall and far off it looked – much further than when last he had sighted it, returning to Ortelga on his raft. He thought of the shendron, perhaps looking out at this very moment through the silvery fronds. But the shendron, for all his vigilance, would never catch sight of him. He was nothing but flotsam, a dot moving in the grey light and grey water of early morning.

By God, but there was something else, though, that the shendron could not have failed to seel A little behind, but directly between himself and the zoan tree, Shardik was drifting like a cloud through a pale sky. There was no commotion of the water round him and the long wedge of his jaw lay half-submerged, the nostrils just clear, like those of an alligator. As the hunter watched, the bear turned his head for a moment and seemed to be staring towards him.

At this, desperate though he was, Kelderek felt a return of that brave impulse upon which he had thrown himself into the river to follow Shardik. Shardik had called him for some purpose of his own. Shardik had power to preserve and raise up those who gave him all, doubting nothing. If only he could reach Shardik, Shardik would save him, Shardik would not let him drown. As the zoan tree dropped out of sight he set himself, with the last of his strength, to swim inshore across the current Slowly, very slowly, he began to converge upon the bear. As he came by degrees into the slacker stream the distance between them lessened, until at last they were floating side by side and only a few yards apart

He could do no more. He was exhausted, conscious of nothing but the deep water beneath him, the fear of drowning and, somewhere far out of reach, the presence of Shardik. He could see neither sky nor shore. 'Accept my life, Lord Shardik. I regret nothing I did for you.' Losing the power of thought, sinking, no longer breathing: arms flung upwards, fingers clawing at the black, fainting dark; and now, in death, he felt once more the shaggy hair, the flank of Shardik, just as he had felt it when he walked beside him at nightfall into the forest and slept in the safety of his presence.

The darkness burst apart. He caught his breath and drew in the air. Sunlight was glittering on the water and sparkling in his eyes. He was clutching Shardik's flank, hanging by his clenched hands, tossing up and down, while beside him the great off-hind leg trod water as fast as mill-wheels strike. Scarcely able at first to realize what had happened, he knew only that he was alive and that he could still get ashore before the town was left behind.

The bear had not turned its head or tried to shake him off, and indeed seemed unaware of him. He was puzzled by its indifference. Then, as his head and sight grew clearer, he sensed that it was intent upon something else, some purpose of its own. It was turning shoreward, to the left, and swimming more strongly. He could not see over the ridge of its back, but as it turned still further, land appeared beyond its shoulder. A moment later it was wading. He let his feet drop, touched bottom and found himself standing, submerged almost to his shoulders, on firm stones.

They came ashore together, the bear and the man, close to the now cold cooking-fires, the duster of storage huts and servants* quarters lying shoreward of the Sindrad. Shardik, in his eagerness, thrust the water aside, splashing and shouldering through the shallows as though in pursuit of prey. Suddenly Kelderek saw the way of it The bear was hungry – famished – desperate for food at any cost Something had turned it back from the Dead Belt, but nevertheless it must have smelt food while lying in the forest and this was why it had plunged into the river. He remembered what Bd-ka-Trazet had said before leaving the Tuginda, 'If it begins to plague Ortelga, I promise you I will have it killed.'

Stumbling and still half-drowned, he began to follow Shardik up the slope of the shore, but tripped and fdl his length. For some moments he lay inert, then raised himself on one elbow. As he did so two men appeared from behind the nearest hut, carrying an iron cauldron between them and making for the water. They were bleary-eyed and tousled, scullions routed out of bed to the first chores of the day. The bear was almost on top of them before they looked up and saw it The cauldron fell to the stones with a booming sound and for an instant they stared, fixed in grotesque attitudes of shock and terror. Then, shrieking, they turned to run. One disappeared by the no way he had come. The other, blind with fear, blundered into the wall of the hut, hit his head and stood dazed, swaying on his feet Shardik, following, reared up and struck him. The blow knocked the poor wretch bodily through the wattle-and-daub of the hut wall, smashing it open in a ragged gap. Shardik struck a second time and the wall collapsed, bringing down part of the roof above. The air was filled with dust and with smoke from the new-lit hearth buried beneath the ruins. Women were screaming, men running and shouting. A burly man in a leather apron, holding a hammer, appeared suddenly through the haze, stared a moment petrified, and was gone. Above all the hubbub rose the growling roar of Shardik, a sound like the sliding of heavy stones down a hillside.

Kelderek, watching from where he had fallen, saw the bear lumber away into the smoke and confusion. Suddenly he felt hands under his armpits and a voice shouted in his ear.

'Get up, Kelderek, get up, man! There's no time to lose! Follow me!'

Ta-Kominion was beside him, his long hair streaming water as he dragged Kelderek to his knees. In his left hand he was holding a long, sharp-pointed dagger. 'Come on, man! Have you got a weapon?' 'Only this.' He drew Sheldra's knife. 'That'll do! You can soon grab yourself a better.'

They dashed forward round the burning ruins. On the further side was lying a man's body, the backbone like a snapped bow. Beyond, the bear was dragging the carcase of a sheep from beneath the debris of a second hut A little further off four or five men, on the point of flight stood staring back over their shoulders.

Ta-Kominion leapt to the top of a pile of logs, shouting, 'Shardik! Lord Shardik is come!' Round him the tumult spread wider as the whole town woke to the alarm. It was clear that there were those who had been awaiting his return. Already men were gathering about him, some already armed, others, half-naked from their beds, clutching spits, axes, clubs, whatever had come first to hand.

Dragging the end of a burning roof-pole from the ruins behind him, Ta-Kominion brandished it above his head. The second hut had caught fire and smoke had begun to obscure the sunlight As the heat and noise increased Shardik, disturbed from the sheep's carcase, became uneasy. At first he had glared about him, defying the strange surroundings as he satisfied his hunger, crouching in the posture of a cat to rip and chew the bloody flesh. As the dusky air began to waver and cinders blew out towards the river, he winced and snarled, cuffing at a spark that fell on his car. Then, as the centre-post of the second hut fell its length with a crash like that of a felled tree, he turned, still clutching the haunch in his mouth, and made off towards the shore.

Ta-Kominion, surrounded now by a shouting crowd, pointed with his dagger and raised his voice above the din. 'Now you have seen for yourselves! Lord Shardik has returned to his people! Follow me and fight for Shardik!' 'He is going!' cried a voice.

'Going? Of course he's going!' yelled Ta-Kominion. 'Going where we shall follow him – to Beklal He knows Ortelga's as good as taken for him already! He's trying to tell you there's no time to be lost! Follow me!'

'Shardik! Shardik!' shouted the crowd. Ta-Kominion led them forward at a run towards the Sindrad. Kelderek heard the shouting grow to a roar. Fresh smoke rose, followed by the unmistakable sounds of fighting – orders, the clashing of weapons, curses and the cries of wounded men. Picking up a stout, woven hurdle leaning against the log pile, he began to fasten it on his left arm for a shield. It was awkward, contrary work and he knelt down to it, fumbling and forcing at the wicker plaiting.

Looking up, he suddenly found the Tuginda standing beside him. Her clothes were dry, but the black, powdery ash blowing in the air had streaked her face and arms and lay grimy on her hair. Although she was carrying a bow, ready strung, and a quiver of arrows, she seemed indifferent to the fighting, which was now filling the entire town with its uproar. She said nothing, but stood looking down at him.

'I must go and join in the fight, saiyett, he said. 'The young baron will think me a coward. He may be hard-pressed – I cannot tell.'

Still she said nothing and he paused, looking up at her and at the same time trying to thrust his left arm further through the rent which he had made in the hurdle. 'Lord Shardik is leaving Ortelga,' said the Tuginda at length. 'Saiyett, the fighting-' 'His work here is done – whatever it may have been.' 'You can hear that it is not! Do not delay me, saiyett, I beg you!' 'That may be others' work. It is not our work.' He stared at her. 'Why, what then is our work, if not to fight for Lord Shardik?' 'To follow the one whom God has sent.'

She turned and began to walk back towards the river. Still hesitating, he saw her stoop and pick something up from among the ashes of the burned hut. She stood a moment, weighing it in her hand, and as she moved he saw that it was a wooden ladle. Then she was gone, through the smoke, down the sloping shore. Kelderek let fall his hurdle, thrust the knife into his belt and followed her.

On the bank, Rantzay and Sheldra were waiting beside a canoe drawn up on the pebbles. Staring out over the water, they paid him no attention. Following their gaze, he saw Shardik splashing towards the mainland, along the line of the broken causeway. Close by, shading her eyes against the glitter, the Tuginda was standing on a flat, squared block of stone in the shallows. He took her arm, and together they began to follow Shardik across the strait. Book II Gelt 17 The Road to Gelt That evening the army of Ortelga, led by Ta-Kominion, began crossing the strait: a grimy, shouting horde a few thousand strong, some armed with spear, sword or bow, some carrying nothing but mattocks or sharpened stakes: some-mostly servants, these-moving in bands under their masters for officers, others mere gangs of drinking-companions, or ruffians slouching with club and bottle for company: but all eager to march and ready to fight, all convinced that Bekla was destined to fall to the revealed power of God, by whose will they were to have full stomachs and never toil again. Some wore crude armour – scooped-out caps of fire-hardened wood, or rough-edged plates of iron fastened across their chests – and most had, scratched or painted somewhere about them, the rough likeness of a bear's head.

At the dangerous points in the broken causeway Ta-Kominion had had ropes stretched between wedged stakes or anchored rafts and at these there was sousing and horseplay, until a man was swept downstream and drowned. As darkness came, those still gathering on the. island shore fell to drinking and singing as they waited for moon-rise; and Ta-Kominion's henchmen made a last search through the town, rousing up any who remained in two minds or seemed inclined to feel that they might be leaving more than they could gain.

On the mainland shore other groups were mustering from the outlying lands: a party of foresters and woodmen, armed with their axes, mauls and crowbars; a baron named Ged-la-Dan, whose substance came from the coloured quartz – topaz and aquamarine – for which his men dived in rocky bays downstream; and a factor and his porters, just returned from their trading-post in Gelt with a load of iron ore, who were quick-witted enough to auction themselves as guides to the highest bidders among the leaders.

Women, too, made the crossing, laden with arms, clothes, arrows or bags of food got together at the last minute, beg, borrow or steal. Some of these, confused by the crowd, wandered here and there in the torch-lit twilight, calling the names of their men and dealing as best they could with importuners and thieves.

Ta-Kominion, having asked Fassel-Hasta to count the numbers and do his best to organize the force into companies, himself set off to re-cross the causeway, ignoring the surly nod and grunt with which the older baron left him. For some hours past he had been drenched through, first standing up to his waist in midstream to see the ropes fixed and then remaining at the gaps, less to encourage the rabble, most of whom were in high spirits, than to establish his authority and make sure that they knew him and would know him again. Already wearied by the work of the previous night and day, he was now intending a second night without sleep. He waded ashore on Ortelga, commandeered the nearest hut, bolted the food that was brought to him and then slept for two hours. When his servant, Numiss, woke him, the moon was well risen and the stragglers were being guided and coaxed across. He sat impatiently while Numiss changed the dirty cloth bound round the deep, jagged wound in his forearm; and then made his way upstream the length of the town, until he came to the shendron's post under the zoan tree.

There was no shendron there now, not even a woman or an old man, for Ta-Kominion was not concerned to set guards round Ortelga. Waiting, however, under the tent of leaves he found, as he had expected, two of the Tuginda's girls with a canoe. Numiss and another had been despatched that morning, as soon as the fight was over, to cross the strait, find the Tuginda and ask for guides to be sent to the zoan tree after moonrise.

As the canoe moved obliquely across the midstream current and on into the slack water under the further bank Ta-Kominion, sitting in the stern, could make out, away to his left, the dull glint of weapons held high out of the water, an occasional splash – the sound reaching him an instant after the quick glitter in the moon – and the onward creeping of the line of black shapes as the last of his followers made the crossing. Coming ashore he stumbled, struck his arm against a tree and stood biting his lip as the pain slowly subsided. All day he had made light of the wound but now, when one of the girls unfastened the leather strap of her quiver to make him a rough sling, he was ready enough to do as she bid, bending his head meekly to let her tie the knot behind his neck.

The girls had become adept at moving in the dark. Whether they were following any path or how they knew their way he could not tell and was beginning to feel too feverish to care. His arm throbbed and his hearing seemed continually to change, now magnified, now dulled. He walked behind them in silence, revolving in his mind all that still remained to be done. At length he saw, far-off, the leaping of a fire between the trees. He went towards it, halting as his guides were challenged and answered with some password. Then he stepped into the firelight and Kelderek came forward to meet him.

For a few moments they stood looking at one another, each thinking how strange it was that in spite of all that had passed he should not yet be familiar with the other's face. Then Kelderek dropped his eyes to the fire, stooped and threw on a log, speaking diffidently as he did so.

'Crendro, Ta-Kominion. I am glad that you have won Ortelga, but sorry to see you wounded. I hope you found the girls waiting?'

Ta-Kominion nodded and sat down on a creeper-covered log. Kelderek remained standing, leaning on a long stake which the girls had been using to stir the fire. 'Is the wound serious?' 'It's of no importance. Others were luckier – others who won't be afraid to fight again.' 'How long did the fight last?'

'I don't know. Longer than it took you to get across the strait, I dare say.'

He pulled a splinter from the log. A turn of the breeze blew the smoke into his face but he ignored it Kelderek stirred the fire and shifted his feet At length he said, 'Most of the Tuginda's stuff is still on the other side. The women left it this morning when they followed us across the river.' There was another silence.

'It puzzles me,' said Kelderek, 'that last night, in spite of his hunger, Lord Shardik would not go on through the forest. He must have caught the scent of food from Ortelga, yet he turned back from the Dead Belt and took to the river.'

Ta-Kominion shook his head as though the matter were of little interest to him. 'What has happened to Bel-ka-Trazet?' asked Kelderek. 'Oh, he took to the water, like you; not quite so quickly.'

Kelderek drew in his breath and clenched his hand on the stake. After some moments he said, 'Where has he gone?' 'Downstream.' 'Do you mean to pursue him?'

'It's not necessary. He isn't a coward, but to us he can be no more dangerous now than if he were.' He looked up. 'Where is Lord Shardik?'

'Over there, not far from the road. He reached the road this afternoon but then went back into the forest. I was near him until moonrise, but I returned to meet you.' 'What road?' "The road to Gelt. We are not far from it here.'

Ta-Kominion got up and stood squarely in front of Kelderek, looking down into his face. His back was to the fire and, with his long hair falling forward, he seemed to be wearing a mask of heavy shadows, through which his eyes burned cold and harsh. Without turning his head he said, 'You may leave us, Numiss.' 'But where are we to go, my lord?'

Ta-Kominion said nothing more and after a moment the red-haired fellow and his companion slipped away among the trees. Before Ta-Kominion could speak again Kelderek burst out,

'My place is with Lord Shardik, to follow and serve himl That is my task! I am no coward!' 'I did not say you were.'

'I have walked beside Lord Shardik, slept beside him, laid my hands upon him. Is that work for a coward?'

Ta-Kominion closed his eyes and passed his hand once or twice across his forehead.

'I did not come here, Kelderek, either to accuse you or to quarrel with you. I have more important things to speak of.'

'You think I'm a coward. You have as good as said so!'

'What I may have let slip is nothing to do with our affairs now. You'd do better to put such personal ideas out of your mind. Every man in Ortelga who can use a weapon is across the Telthearna and ready to march on Bekla. They'll start soon – before dawn. I shall join them from here – no need to return to the camp. We shall be at Bekla in five days – perhaps sooner. It's not only surprise we need. We've got no more than three days' food, but that's not the whole of it either. Our people have got to take Bekla before they can lose the power that's burning in their hearts. Whose, do you suppose, is that power?' 'My lord?' It had slipped out before Kelderek could check himself.

'It was the power of Shardik that took Ortelga today. We were lucky – there were many who saw him before he crossed the causeway. Bel-ka-Trazet was driven out because he was known to be Shardik's enemy. The people have seen for themselves that Shardik has returned. They believe there's nothing he won't give them -nothing they can't do in his name.'

He took a few uncertain steps back to the log and sat rigid and frowning, fighting a sudden fit of giddiness. For an instant his teeth chattered and he pressed his chin upon his open hand.

'Shardik has been sent to restore us to Bekla, peasant and baron alike. The peasants need to know no more than that. But I – I have to find the right way, the way to bring about victory through Shardik. And this is the way – or so it seems to me. Either we take Bekla within seven days or not at all.'

'Why?' Ta-Kominion paused, as though choosing his words.

'Common people can sing a song only when they are dancing, drinking or about some occupation – then it rises to their lips without thought. Ask them to teach it to you and it's gone from their heads. While their hearts are full of Shardik our men will do the impossible – march without sleep, fly through the air, tear down the walls of Bekla. But in the hearts of common men such power is like mist. The wind or the sun – any unexpected adversity – may disperse it in an hour. It must be given no chance to disperse.' He paused and then said deliberately, 'But there is more besides. Out of sight, out of mind. You understand children, I'm told. So you'll know that children forget what is not kept before their eyes.' Kelderek stared, guessing at his meaning.

'Shardik must be with us when we come to fight,' said Ta-Kominion. 'It is all-important that the people should see him there.' 'At Bekla – in five days? How?' 'You must tell me how.'

'Lord Shardik cannot be driven a hundred paces and you are speaking of five days' journey!'

'Kelderek, Bekla is a city more rich and marvellous than a mountain made of jewels. It is ours of ancient right and Shardik has returned to restore it to us. But he can restore it only by means of ourselves. He needed my help to take Ortelga today. Now he needs your help to bring him to Bekla.' 'But that is impossible! It was not impossible to take Ortelga.'

'No, no, of course not – an easy matter, I dare say, to those who did not happen to be there. Never mind. Kelderek, do you want to cease to be a simpleton playing with fatherless children on the shore? To see Shardik come in power to Bekla? To bring to its right end the work you began on that night when you faced Bel-ka-Trazet's hot knife in the Sindrad? There must be a way! Either you find it or we are fast on a sheer cliff. You and I and Lord Shardik – it is we who are climbing, and there is no way back. If we do not take Bekla, do you think the Beklan rulers will let us alone? No – they will hunt us down. They will not be long in dealing with you and your bear.' 'My bear?'

'Your bear. For that is what he will become, Lord Shardik of the Ledges, who is ready at this moment to give us a great city and all its wealth and power, if only we can find the means. He will shrink to a creature of superstition, over which some rough fellows on Ortelga have made trouble and turned out their High Baron. A stop will be put to him – and to you.'

A great bat came hovering out of the darkness, flittered soundlessly along the edge of the fire, turned away from the crackling heat and vanished as it had come.

'Kelderek, you say I think you're a coward. Is it I that think it, or you? It's not too late for you to redeem yourself, Kelderek Play-with-the-Children: to show yourself a man. Find a way to bring Lord Shardik to the plains of Bekla – fight for him there with your own hands. Think of the prize – a prize beyond reckoning! Do this, and no one will ever call you a coward again.' 'I never was a coward. But the Tuginda -' For the first time, Ta-Kominion smiled at him.

'I know you are not. When we have taken Bekla, what reward do you suppose there will be for him to whom Shardik first appeared, for him who brought the news to Quiso? Why, there is not a man on Ortelga who does not know your name and honour it already.' Kelderek hesitated, frowning. 'How soon must we begin?'

'At once – now. There is not a moment to lose. There are two things, Kelderek, that a rebel leader needs above all. First, his followers must be filled with a burning ardour – mere obedience is not enough – and secondly he himself must be all speed and resolution. The second I myself possess. The first only you can ensure.'

'It may perhaps be possible: but I shall need every blacksmith, wheelwright and carpenter in Ortelga. Let us go and speak with the Tuginda.'

As Ta-Kominion rose, Kelderek offered him the support of his arm, but the baron waved him aside, staggered a few steps, hesitated, then himself put his sound arm through Kelderek's and drew himself upright, leaning hard until he found his balance. 'Are you ill?' 'It's nothing – a touch of fever. It will pass off.' 'You must be tired out. You ought to rest.' 'Later.* Kelderek guided him away from the fire. In the close darkness under the trees they paused, sightless after the flame-light. A hand plucked Kelderek's sleeve and he turned, peering.. 'Shall I guide you, my lord? Are you returning now to Lord Shardik?'

'Is it your watch, Neelith?' 'My watch is ended, my lord. I was coming to wake Sheldra, but it's no matter if you need me.' 'No, get to sleep. Who is watching Lord Shardik?' 'Zilthe, my lord.' 'Where is the Tuginda?' The girl pointed, 'Down yonder, among the ferns.' 'Is she asleep?' 'Not yet, my lord; she has been praying this hour and more.'

They left the girl and, their eyes becoming accustomed to the dark, moved on more easily. Soon the trees grew fewer and the close growth overhead opened here and there to reveal clouds and moonlight. The white beams faded and reappeared continually between the branches as the clouds drifted eastward across the moon. The turbid heat of the forest, a single block of dense air lying all about them, seemed now to begin to be assailed, whittled, rifted, encroached upon by gusts and momentary, cooler currents coming and going like the first wavelets of flood-water lapping round a dry shoal. As the leaves and light shifted in response to the breeze outside, the mass of the hot darkness on the ground sdrrcd, slow and heavy as a bed of weed under water. As yet unpenetrated, it felt already on its outskirts the first impulse of that appointed, seasonal force that soon would grow to split it with lightning and storm.

Ta-Kominion stopped, lifting his head and sniffing the fresher air. 'The rains can't be long now.' 'A day or two,' replied Kelderek.

'That's the strongest reason of all for speed. It's now or never. We can't march or keep the field in the wet and nor can they. Even Bekla lies low in the rains. The last thing they'll be expecting is any sort of attack at this time of year. If they have no warning and we get there before the rains break we shall have complete surprise.' 'Have they no spies?'

'We're not worth spying on, man. Ortelga? A bunch of scavengers perched on the butt-end of an overgrown spit.'

'But the risk! If the rains come first, before we can fight, that will be the end of us. Are you sure there's time?' 'Lord Shardik will give us time.'

As he spoke they came suddenly upon a broad slab of rock rising upright from the ground like a wall. It was flat, about as thick as a man's body, and rose irregularly to a blunt apex an arm's length above their heads. In the faint light the two sides appeared almost smooth, though as Kelderek groped wonderingly across one of the planes he could feel that it was rougher than it looked, flawed here and there and ridged with excrescent mosses and lichens. The rock was set deep in the soft earth of the forest like a wedge hurled down and hammered in by a giant long ago. Beyond, they could make out another, also flat but larger, slightly tilted and of a different shape. This, when they came to it, they saw was half-covered on one side with rusty-red lichen like a stain of dried blood. And now they found themselves peering and wandering between numbers of these tall, flat-sided masses – some, like fences, long and no higher than a man's shoulder, others rising in steep, conical blocks or cut, as it seemed, into flights of steps vanishing upwards in the dark: but all worked to an even thickncss and sheer-sided like gigantic axe-heads, with never a broadening at the foot to anything resembling a base or plinth. Among them grew the ferns of which the girl had spoken – some huge, like trees, with moss hanging from the under-sides of their fronds; others small and delicate, lacc-fronded with tiny leaflets that trembled like aspen leaves in the still air. From hidden places among the rocks there came, even at this time of year, thin tricklings out of the peaty mould, scarcely enough to form anywhere a pool bigger than a man's cupped hands; though they shone, where the moonlight caught them, in faint streaks along the stones and the moist, dim fern-boughs. A snatch of breeze brought for an instant the minute pattering of drops blown across the shallowest of surfaces.

'Have you never been here before?' asked Ta-Kominion, as Kelderek stared up at the outlinc of a rock that seemed to be toppling forwards between his eyes and the moving clouds above. 'These are the Two-Sided Rocks.'

'Once, many years ago, I came here; but I was not old enough then to wonder how the rocks were brought – or why.'

'The rocks were here from the beginning, as I was told. But the men who made the Ledges on Quiso – they worked them, as others might trim a hedge or shape a tree, to strike wonder into the hearts of pilgrims approaching Ortelga. For it was here that the pilgrims used to assemble to be guided down to the causeway.'

'This place is Lord Shardik's then, as Quiso is, and that is why he has led us here.'

The Tuginda was standing a little way off, in an open place among the ferns. Her back was half-turned, her hands clasped at her waist and her head inclined as she gazed into the moonlit distance. Her bearing recalled to Kelderek the moment when she had stood on the edge of the pit, filled with the knowledge that it was none other than Shardik lying among the trepsis below. Plainly she was not withdrawn into contemplation, but seemed rather to have attained to some heightened state of alertness, in which she was aware with rapture of all that lay about her. Yet just as evidently, her eyes passed through the fern grove as they might have passed through water to perceive – or partly perceive – the moving life within it, the silence of the pool. For an instant Kelderek understood that not only now, but always, his own eye was filled with reflections from a surface through which her sight passed unimpeded. She seemed to be gazing into the sultry gloom as though at some marvellous spectacle, a dance of light and flowers. Yet still there remained about her that air of plain directness and shrewdness that had both deceived and reassured him by the Tereth stone on Quiso. If her prayer had had words, she might have been speaking of leather, wood and bread.

Ta-Kominion stopped, withdrew his arm from Kelderek's and leaned against one of the rock slabs, pressing his forehead against the cool stone. 'Is that the Tuginda?'

'Yes.' He was surprised for a moment, before remembering that Ta-Kominion could never have seen her unmasked – might never, perhaps, have seen her at all. 'Are you sure?' Kelderek made no reply. 'The girl said she was praying.' 'She is praying.'

Ta-Kominion shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself upright. They went on. While they were still a little distance away the Tuginda turned towards them. Her face, in the moonlight, was full of a calm, tranquil joy which seemed to embrace and sanctify rather than transcend the dark forest and the danger and uncertainty surrounding all Ortelga. To Kelderek's eye, faith streamed from her as light from a lantern.

'It is she,' he thought, in a swift access of self-knowledge, 'she, not I, through whom the power of Shardik will be transmuted and made a blessing to us all. Her acceptance and faith – his force and savagery – they are one and the same. He is weak as a dumb creature without knowledge. She is strong as the shoots of the lilies, that great stones cannot prevent from breaking through the earth.'

They stood before her and Kelderek raised his palm to his forehead. Her smile in reply was like the answering step in some happy dance, an exchange of mutual respect and trust. 'We interrupted you, saiyett.'

'No, we are all doing the same thing – whatever it is. I came here because it's cooler among the ferns. But we'll go back to the fire now, Kelderek, if you prefer.' 4 Saiyett, your wishes are mine, and always will be.' She smiled again. 'You're sure?' He nodded, smiling back at her.

"This is the High Baron of Ortelga, Lord Ta-Kominion. He has come to talk about Lord Shardik.' *I am afraid you are not well,' she said, reaching out her fingers to take his wrist. 'What has happened?'

'It is nothing, saiyett. I have been telling Kelderek that time is very short. Lord Shardik must come -'

At that instant, from somewhere in the middle distance, an appalling scream pierced the forest – a cry of fear and agony, confounding the minds of its hearers as lightning dazzles and confounds the eyes. There was a moment's silence. Then followed another scream, which broke off as suddenly as though a man falling in terror from a height had struck the ground.

Kelderek's eye met Ta-Kominion's and without a word the thought passed between them, 'That was a man's death-cry.'

Numiss and his companion came running towards them through the trees, their swords drawn in their hands. 'Thank God, my lord! We thought -' 'Never mind,' said Ta-Kominion. 'Follow me, come on!'

He set off at a run, threading his way in and out of the ferns and tall rocks. The two servants followed. Kelderek, however, remained with the Tuginda, suiting his pace to hers as he tried to persuade her to remain out of danger.

'Be advised, saiyett! Wait here and let me send you word of what we find. You must not risk your life'

'There's no risk now,' she answered. 'Whatever has happened, it's past mending.' 'But there may -'

'Give me your arm over these rocks. Which way did the young baron take? The undergrowth is thick on the edge of the forest, but with luck they will break a way through for us.'

Soon they came upon Ta-Kominion and the servants hacking with their knives at a belt of creepers.

'Is there no easier way, my lord?' panted Numiss, picking the trazada thorns from his forearm and stifling his curses as he caught sight of the Tuginda.

'Very likely there is,' replied Ta-Kominion, 'but we must make straight towards where the cry came from, or we shall lose direction and never find the fellow until daylight.'

Suddenly Kelderek's car caught a sound somewhere between weeping and the whimpering of fear. It was a woman's voice, a little distance away. 'Zilthe!' he called. 'My lord!' replied the girl. 'Oh, come quickly!'

As Numiss cut his way out through the further side of the creepers, Kelderek followed Ta-Kominion through the gap. He found himself clear of the trees and looking across an open valley. Opposite perhaps half a mile away, the edge of the forest in the moonlight showed black and dry as a hide hung to cure on a line. Down in the bottom he could just make out the dark cleft of a brook, while far to his right the Gelt mountains showed dimly against the night sky.

Below the place where they were standing ran the road from Ortelga to Gelt – a track trodden along the hillside between scrub and bushes, with here and there the stump of a long-felled tree and here and there, to mend some muddy or broken place, a patch of stones carried up from the bed of the brook and laid haphazard, to settle to a level with use and time.

Down at the edge of the road Zilthe, her bow lying beside her, was bending on one knee over the dark shape of a body. As Kelderek watched she rose, turned her head and looked up towards him, but evidently could not perceive him among the trees and shadows.

The Tuginda came through the creepers. He pointed without speaking and together they began to make their way down. Ta-Kominion, motioning his servants to remain a little behind, muttered, 'A dead man – but where's the killer?'

The others made no reply. As they approached, Zilthe stepped back from the body. It was lying in blood which glistened viscous, smooth and black in the moonlight. One side of the head had been smashed into a great wound and from below the left shoulder blood was still oozing through lacerated rents in the cloak. The eyes were staring wide, but the open mouth and bared teeth were partly hidden by one arm which the man must have flung up to try to defend himself. He was wearing heeled boots, the boots of a messenger, and beneath the heels were dents in the ground, which he must have kicked as he died.

The Tuginda put her arm round Zilthe's shoulders, led her a little distance away and sat down beside her. Kelderek followed. The girl was weeping and terrified but able to speak.

'Lord Shardik, saiyett – he was sleeping. Then he woke suddenly and began to return towards the road, the same way that he went this afternoon. One would have thought that he had some purpose of his own. I tried to follow him but after a little he went fast, as though he were hunting – pursuing. When I reached the edge of the trees' – she pointed up the slope – 'he was already down here. He was waiting – crouching behind the rocks. And then, after only a little, I heard the man – I saw him coming up the road and I ran out of the trees to call out and warn him. But I caught my foot – I stumbled and fell: and as I got up, Lord Shardik came out from behind the rocks. The man saw him and screamed. He turned and ran, but Lord Shardik followed him and struck him down. He – he -' In the vividness of her recollection the girl beat at the air with one arm held out stiffly, open-handed, the fingers apart, rigid and curved. 'I might have saved him, saiyett -' She began to weep once more.

Ta-Kominion came over to them, his tongue protruding between his bared teeth as he shifted the position of his wounded arm in its sling. 'Do you recognize that man, Kelderek?' he asked. 'No. Is he from Ortelga?' 'He is from Ortelga. His name was Naron and he was a servant.' 'Whose?' 'He served Fassel-Hasta.' 'Served Fassel-Hasta? Then what could he have been doing here?'

Ta-Kominion hesitated, looking back at Numiss and his fellow, who had lifted the body to the other side of the track and were doing what they could to make it decent Then he held out a blood-spattered leather scrip, opened it and showed to the Tuginda two strips of bark inked with brush-written letters. 'Can you read this message, saiyett?' he asked.

The Tuginda took the stiff, curved sheets and held first one and then the other at arm's length in the moonlight Kelderek and Ta-Kominion could learn nothing from her face. At last she stood up, returned the sheets to the scrip and without speaking gave it back to the baron. 'You have read it, saiyett?'

She nodded once, rcluctantly it seemed, as though she would have preferred, if she could, to disown knowledge of the message.

'Docs it tell us what this man was doing here?' persisted Ta-Kominion.

'He was carrying news to Bekla of what happened in Ortelga today.' She turned aside and looked down into the valley.

Ta-Kominion cried out and the servants across the road looked up, staring.

'God! It tells that we have crossed the causeway and what we mean to do?'

She nodded again.

'I might have guessed it! Why didn't I post my own men to watch the road? That treacherous -'

'But the road was watched for us nevertheless,' said Kelderek. 'Surely it was no accident that Zilthe stumbled before she could warn the man. Lord Shardik – he knew what had to be done!'

They stared at each other as the long, moonset shadow of the forest crept lower down the hillside. 'But Fassel-Hasta – why did he do it?' asked Kelderek at last.

'Why? For wealth and power, of course. I should have guessed! It was always he who dealt with Bekla. "Yes, my lord." "I'll write it for you, my lord." By the Bearl I'll write on his face with a hot knife this morning. That for a start. Numiss, you can leave that body for the buzzards – if they'll touch it.'

His loud words, echoing, starded direc or four pigeons out of the cleft of the brook below. As they rose with a clatter of wings and flew across the road and up into the forest Ta-Kominion, watching their flight, suddenly pointed.

From the edge of the trees, Shardik was looking down into the valley. For a moment they saw him plainly, his shape, black against the line of the woods, like an opened gate in a city wall. Then, as Kelderek raised his arms in salutation and prayer, he turned and vanished into the darkness.

'God be thanked!' cried Ta-Kominion. 'Lord Shardik saved us from that devil! There – there is your sign, Kelderek! Our will is Shardik's will – our plan will succeed! No more children's games on the shore for you, my lad! We'll rule in Bekla, you and I! What is it you need? Tell me, and you shall have it within an hour of daybreak.' 'Hark!' said the Tuginda, laying a hand on his arm. From the forest above came faint calls. 'Saiyett!' 'Lord Kelderek!'

'Neelith will have woken Rantzay when she heard the man scream,' said Kelderek. 'They're looking for us. Zilthe, go up and bring them down. You are not afraid?' The girl smiled. 'Not now, my lord.' As she set off up the slope the Tuginda turned to Kelderek. 'What plan is he speaking of?' she asked.

'Lord Ta-Kominion is going to lead our people against Bekla, saiyett, to win back what is ours by ancient right. They have crossed the Telthearna -' 'By now they will already be on the march,' said Ta-Kominion.

'And our part, saiyett,' went on Kelderek eagerly, 'is to take Lord Shardik there, you and I. The baron will give us craftsmen to make a wheeled cage and men to draw it -'

He stopped a moment, meeting her incredulous eyes: but she said nothing and he resumed.

'He will be drugged, saiyett, as he was in the first days. I know it will be difficult – dangerous too – but I am not afraid. For the sake of the people -' 'I never heard such nonsense in my life,' said the Tuginda. ' Saiyett!'

'It will not be attempted. It is plain that you know nothing either of Lord Shardik or the true nature of his power. He is not some weapon or tool to be used for men's worldly greed. No -' she held up her hand as Ta-Kominion was about to speak '- nor even for the material gain of Ortelga. What God is pleased to impart to us through Shardik, that we should be holding ourselves ready to receive with humility and thanks. If the people believe in Shardik, that is their blessing. But you and I – we neither determine nor confer that blessing. I drugged Lord Shardik to save his life. He will not be drugged in order that he may be taken in a cage to Bekla.'

Ta-Kominion remained silent for a little, the fingers of his injured arm, in its sling, tapping gently against his left side. At length he said, 'And long ago, saiyett, when Shardik was brought to the Ledges, how, may I ask, was he brought, if not drugged and restrained?'

'Means used for an end appointed by God, that his servants might serve him. You are intending to make him a weapon of bloodshed for your own power.' 'Time is short, saiyett. I have no time for argument.' 'There is nothing over which to argue.' 'Nothing,' replied Ta-Kominion in a low, hard voice.

Stepping forward, he grasped the Tuginda strongly by the wrist. 'Kelderek, you shall have your craftsmen within two hours, though the iron and some of the heavy materials may take longer. Remember, everything depends on resolution. We'll not fail the people, you and I.'

For an instant he looked at Kelderek and his look said, 'Are you a man, as you maintain, or an overgrown child under the thumb of a woman?' Then, still gripping the Tuginda's wrist, he called to the servants, who approached hesitantly from the scrub on the other side of the track. 'Numiss,' said Ta-Kominion, 'the saiyett is returning with us to meet Lord Zelda and the army on the road.' He slipped his arm out of the leather strap. 'Take this and tie her wrists behind her back.' 'My – my lord,' stammered Numiss, 'I am afraid -' Without another word Ta-Kominion, setting his teeth against the 130 pain in his arm, himself drew the Tuginda's hands behind her back and bound them tightly with the strap. Then he put the free end into Numiss's hand. He held his knife in his teeth the while and was clearly ready to use it, but she made no resistance, standing silent with closed eyes and only compressing her lips as the strap cut into her wrists.

'Now we will go,' said Ta-Kominion. 'Believe me, saiyett, I regret this affront to your dignity. I do not wish to be obliged to gag you, so no cries for help, I beg you.'

In the near-darkness of moonset the Tuginda turned and looked at Kelderek. For a moment his eyes met hers; then they fell to the ground, and he did not look up as he heard her footsteps begin to stumble away along the track. When at length he did so, both she and Ta-Kominion were already some distance off. He ran after them and Ta-Kominion turned quickly, knife in hand.

'Ta-Kominion!' He was panting. 'Don't harm her! She must not be hurt or ill-treated! She is not to come to -my harm! Promise me.' 'I promise you, High Priest of Lord Shardik in Bekla.'

Kelderek stood hesitant, half-hoping that she might speak even now. But she said nothing and soon they were gone, sight and sound, into the dawn-mist and gloom of the valley. Once he heard Ta-Kominion's voice. Then he was alone in the solitude.

He turned and walked slowly back, past the dead man shrouded in his bloody cloak, past the rock where Shardik had lain in wait On his left, above the dreary forest, the first light was gathering in the sky. Not a blow had yet been struck in the war, and yet he was filled with a sense of loneliness and danger, of being already committed past recall on a desperate enterprise which, if it did not succeed, could end only in ruin and death. He looked about the empty, twilit valley with a kind of puzzled surprise, such as a malicious child might feel, on holding a burning torch to a rick or thatch, to find that it caught slowly and did not on the instant blaze up to match the idea he had formed in his mind. Was desperation, then, so slow a business?

From the hillside he heard his name called and, turning, saw the tall shape of Rantzay striding down, with six or seven of the girls. At once his apprehension left him and he went to meet them, clear in mind and purposeful.

'Zilthe* has told us, my lord, how Lord Shardik struck down the traitor from Ortelga. Is all well? Where are the Tuginda and the young baron?'

'They – they have returned together down the valley. The army has already set out and they have gone to join it. It is Lord Shardik's will to join the march on Bekla. We have to carry out that will, you and I, and there is no time to be lost.' 'What are we to do, my lord?'

'Have you still got the sleeping-drug in the camp – the drug which was used to heal Lord Shardik?'

'We have that and other drugs, my lord, but none in great quantity.'

'There may well be enough. You are to seek out Lord Shardik and drug him insensible. How can it best be done?'

'He may take it in food, my lord. If not, we shall have to wait until he sleeps and then pierce him. That would be very dangerous, though it could be attempted.'

'You have until sunset. If by some means or other he can be brought near this place, so much the better. Indeed, he must not fall asleep in thick forest, or all may fail.'

Rantzay frowned and shook her head at the difficulty of the task. She was about to speak again, but Kelderek forestalled her.

'It must be attempted, Rantzay. If it is God's will – and I know that it is – you will succeed. At all costs, Lord Shardik must be drugged insensible by sunset.'

At that moment they became aware of a confused noise, far off and still so faint as to be audible only between the gusts of the dawn breeze. As they listened it grew louder, until they could discern metallic sounds and human voices, a shouted order, a snatch of song. At length in the growing light they saw, far below them, a slowly-moving, dusty line, creeping on like a thread of spilt water across a paved floor. The vanguard of Ta-Kominion's army was coming up the valley.

Kelderek spoke quickly. 'Only put aside doubt, Rantzay, and act out of a true belief that this can be achieved, and all will be well. I am going down to meet Lord Ta-Kominion. I shall return later and you will find me here. Sheldra and Neelith, come with me.'

As he strode downhill between the two silent girls, with the sound of the marching tumult coming up to meet him, he felt his inward prayers turned back upon himself. Whether or not he had been right could be revealed only by the outcome. Yet Ta-Kominion was certain that it was Shardik's divine purpose to lead the army to victory. 'We'll rule in Bekla, you and I.' 'And when that day comes,' he thought, 'no doubt the Tuginda will understand that all was for the best.'