Anne McCaffrey - Restoree

Restoree
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Anne McCaffrey
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Contents
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CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN

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A CORGI BOOK

Originally published in Great Britain by Rapp & Whiting Limited

Copyright © 1967 by Anne McCaffrey

Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers Ltd., 61-63 Uxbridge
Road, Baling, London W5 5SA, in Australia by Transworld Publishers
(Australia) Pty. Ltd., 15-23 Helles Avenue, Moorebank, NSW 2170, and in
New Zealand by Transworld Publishers (N.Z.) Ltd., Cnr. Moselle and
Waipareira Avenues, Henderson, Auckland.

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd., Reading, Berks.

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To "My Favourite Relative"

G. N. McElroy

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All of the characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to
actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental

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CHAPTER ONE
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Contents - Next

The only warning of danger I had was a disgusting wave of dead
sea-creature stench. For a moment, it overwhelmed the humid, baked
pavement smell that permeated the relatively cooler air of Central Park
that hot July night. One minute I was turning off the pathway to the Zoo
in search of a spot that might have a breeze from the lake and the next
I was fainting with terror.

I have one other impression of that final second before all horror
overcame me: of a huge dirigible-shaped form looming lightless. I
remember that only because I thought to myself that someone was going to
catch hell for flying so low over the city. Then the black bulk of the
thing seemed to compress the stinking air through my skull, robbing me
of breath and sanity with its aura of alien terror.

Of the next long interlude, which I am informed was a period of
withdrawal from a reality too disrupting to contemplate, I remember only
isolated incoherencies. It is composed of horrifying fragments,
do-si-do-ing in a random partnering of all nightmare symbols, tinted
with unlikely colors, accompanied by fetid odors, by intense heat and
shivering cold and worst of all, nerve-memories of excruciating pain. I
remember, and forget as quickly as possible, dismembered pieces of the
human body; the pattern of severed blood vessels, sawn bones, the
patterns of the fine lines on wrinkled skin. And throat-searing screams.
And a voice, dinning into the ears of my mind, repeating with endless,
stomach-churning patience, collections of syllables I strained
desperately to sort into comprehensible phrases.

Red, yellow, blue beads rolled, parabolically, evading a needle and its
umbilical string. A spoon dipped into a blue bowl, into a red bowl; a
spoon dipped into a red bowl, into a blue bowl, until my body was forced
into the mold of a spoon and itself was dipped into the bowl, my greatly
enlarged mouth the bowl of that spoon. Plaits of human hair swayed
toward oddly shaped sheets of pale white leather. The gentle voice with
the iron insistence of the dedicated droned on and on until each
repetition seemed to trampoline into the gray matter of my mind.

Then, after eons of this inescapable routine, I began to clutch at
snatches seen normally and rationally; a face on a sea of white which
stretched limitlessly beyond my blinkered perception. I would be aware
of bending over this face. I kept trying to make the face resemble
someone I knew: one of the junior account men who invaded the source
library of the advertising agency where I worked; one of the anonymous
faces on the buses I rode from my 48th Street cold-water flat.

At other times, I would find a tray of food held in front of me and
associate myself as the carrier. This troubled me even more because of
all things, I hated serving food. In college I had paid for my board
working as a waitress and sometimes a cook in private families,
resenting the necessary exigencies of a junior female member of a large
family. It seemed to me my earliest recollections were of setting or
clearing the table and serving food. But the feeling of the entire scene
here had an alien quality to it, despite the fact my coherent vision was
limited. The tray and dishes had a different touch and the smell of the
food was unfamiliar.

The next identifiable sensation was that of the warmth of sun on my
shoulders and the caress of wind, of green light in my eyes. I heard
screams that can only be heard and not described, but they might have
been from earlier sections of the nightmare. I had the feeling on my
hands of the slippery softness of soapy water. Then the face on the vast
expanse of white would reappear. I gradually became aware of an
unfailing order in the procedure of my dreams. Face, food, water,
sunshine, face, food, water, dark. The repetition was endless and I was
passive to it, prompted by the droning voice, no longer gentle, but
equally insistent.

Slowly, not just that face on a sea of white but peripheral details took
form and coherency. The face would belong to a man, an ugly man with
vacant eyes, black hair, sallow pitted skin. The fact that he bore not
one morsel of resemblance to any of my brothers or any of the overbright
young men at the agency gave me distinct pleasure. His face was on a
pillow which was on a bed of hospital height. And always I was in the
position of looking down, not being on a level, with him. Had he been
bending over me, I might just have been alarmed that all the tales of
rampant white slavery in New York City drilled into me by my provincial
parents were indeed true. My first conscious query was why was I not the
patient since, obviously, something was very wrong with me.

The mere sensation of sun warmth gradually expanded to include oddly
shaped trees with willowy, waving fronds, and with the feel of the wind
was the cool fragrance of floral odors.

The ground no longer hovered somewhere beyond my comprehension but was
suddenly squarely under my feet. I was standing on a walk, bordered with
blooms I never remembered seeing before. The trays I carried contained
individual colored dishes with foods that smelled appetizingly and I fed
them to the face in the sea of white.

I cannot judge the length of this semiconscious state. I was a passive
observer, comparing the anomalies with personal recollections and
finding no parallels. I was, however, not the least bit alarmed by all
that, which should have alarmed me, as I am normally very curious, in a
discreet way.

I do know that the transition into full consciousness was brutally
abrupt. As if the focus of my mind, so long blurred, had suddenly been
returned to balance. As if a kaleidoscope had astonishingly settled into
a familiar design instead of random, meaningless patterns.

Out of the jumble, my grateful eyes reviewed an entire panorama of
sloping bluish lawns, felicitously set with flowering shrubs and
populated by couples strolling casually down the paths. Each woman wore
a gown the exact cut and color of the blue one I wore. Each man had a
blue tunic and a coat gruesomely reminiscent of a straitjacket. Beyond
the bluish swath, lay little cottages of white stone, with wide windows,
barred by white columns at narrow regular intervals. Directly in front
of my face was a shimmering opacity I recognized, by some agency, as a
fence and dangerous to me.

I was not, however, one of a couple. I was in a group of eight people,
strolling the walks, and the other seven were men. Only one, the man
directly to my left, wore the strange jacket.

A voice, issuing from the left side of the man in the jacket, spoke an
irritating combination of comprehensible words and jumbled syllables.

'And so… he is as well as can be expected. Certainly his physical
appearance has improved. Notice the firm tone to his flesh, the clear
color of his complexion.'

'Then you do have hopes?' asked an urgent, wistful younger voice. Its
owner I could see without noticeably turning my head. He was a young
man, tall and slender, with a sensitive, pale-gold tired face dominated
by deeply circled eyes. He was dressed in a simple but rich fashion. His
concerned attention was on the man whose harness controls I now found
myself holding.

'Hopes, yes… (another incomprehensible spate of words. It seemed to me
I was hearing another language in which I could not yet think)… we
have had so few successes with this sort of… Our skill does not
include mental breakdowns… the strains and concerns of affairs in your
behalf and for his country… but you may be sure we are taking the very
best care of him until that time. Monsorlit's…'

This was not the reassurance the young man wanted. He sighed resignedly,
placing a gentle hand on my charge's shoulder. It was the lightest of
gestures, but it stopped the man stolidly in his tracks. In the
vacuousness of the face, there was no comprehension of the action, no
reaction, no sign whatever of intelligence.

'Harlan, Harlan,' the youth cried in bitter distress, his eyes brimming
with tears, 'how could this have happened to you?' 'Come, Sir Ferrill,'
commanded a stern voice with no vestige of sympathy in its hardness.
'You know that emotional stress can bring about another one of your
attacks. You have little enough strength as it is.'

The speaker fetched round in my sight. Immediately I saw his face, I
disliked him. I considered myself scarcely a proper judge in this newly
rational state of mind, but the instinct to hate him was as sharp as the
fleshy face of the man was bland. His eyes, close together on either
side of a large nose, were disturbingly cold, calculating and wary. His
full sensuous lips sealed tightly over his teeth and his heavy jaw was
implacable. His heavyset figure was ponderous, not just fleshy or
muscular but unwieldy.

'Your solicitude for my health is touching, Gorlot, but I will judge
which emotion I can afford,' snapped the young man with such regality
the implacable man demurred.

The youth continued to speak, ignoring this Gorlot.

'Since that is his condition, I must leave Harlan here,' he said to a
corpulent, moon-faced individual who bowed with oily obsequity at each
phrase. 'But… if I am not informed the moment an improvement is
noticed…' and the youth left the threat in mid-air with the authority
of one who is used to complete obedience.

The unctuous man bowed again to the back of the youth who turned and
walked with brisk steps down another path. The smile on the fat man's
face did not indicate obedience to the injunction. Nor did the knowing
look this Gorlot exchanged with him. The others in the party walked into
my line of vision and followed the youth and Gorlot.

When they were out of hearing, the fat man turned to me with a sneer and
snapped a command, 'To the house,' and I, obviously from some
well-rehearsed practice in that dim past from which I had so recently
emerged, turned myself and my charge around and took a path towards a
little cottage among the trees.

At the door stood an armed attendant, a brutish, coarse-looking person
who spoke as we approached but spoke as one who knows he isn't heard.

'Back in your cage, most high, noble and exalted Regent.' He threw open
the door he had just unlocked. With a brutal shove he pushed my charge
into the house. With an equally brutal and obscene caress, he pushed me
inside and snapped the door lock.

The patient lay crumpled over the chair into which he had been pushed. I
wondered how I would be able to get him to his feet, for he was tall and
big-boned. But, as I put one hand under his arm, he took it as a signal
and almost unaided got to his feet. His shins were bleeding slightly,
but there was no sign of expression in the vacant eyes.

'Poor man,' I muttered to myself, 'which of us has been the madder?'

'Take off harness,' blared a voice from the ceiling, startling me
breathless. I spotted the grillwork that housed the speaker. 'Take off
harness,' the voice repeated, slowly, distinctly, as to a child or… a
childlike mind.

I did as I was told.

'Take off harness,' the voice repeated four more times even as I had
completed the task. 'If I've said that once, I've said it a million
times,' the voice grumbled in a lower and more normal tone.

'You'd gripe in a priest's cave, you would,' came a half-muffled reply.
'By the Seven Brothers, you won't find me complaining. This life suits
me fine. Plenty of food, nothing much to do except lock doors and…
unlock any pretty legs I want.'

'You like that, you Milbait,' was the sneering reply.

'Ahhh, that's your main problem in life, Balon, you have to have a
struggle to please you. Not me.'

'Who do you think you are, telling me what my problem is? Monsorlit?'
Balon growled. His voice altered again as he issued another command.
'Seat patient.'

I scuffled with the chair, picked it up, half pushing the man into it.

'Get tray at wall slot. Get tray at wall slot.'

I located the wall slot and the tray on which were two sets of dishes,
one red and one blue.

'Feed patient blue food. Feed patient blue food.'

My patient ate with a half-animal intensity, snapping at each bite as
the spoon touched his lips, gulping it down half-chewed.

'Eat red food. Eat red food,' was the next order. 'Damned if I care if
the dummies eat or not. They give me Milshivers.'

'You'd care all right if you had to feed all of Gleto's drugged prizes
yourself. Then I'd never hear the end of your blasting. Your trouble is,
you don't know a prime cave when you see it. Me, I like it fine. Those
dummies do all our work. This is better pay than patrolling, too. Not
that I'd patrol with the half-blown reliners they call squadron leaders
these days. And not with a war on Tane. Who wants hand-to-hand combat?
And it's better than running illegals. You can never tell nowadays when
Gorlot's going to have to make more commitments and who wants to end up
with a needle? Or tied to the local Mil Rock?'

'Balon,' shouted a new voice in the background I recognized as Gleto's.
'You've been at Lamar again. Leave him alone. Just luck I looked in at
him on my way to greet Ferrill. You keep your hands off him.'

'If you knew what the Milrouser had done to me, you wouldn't…' began
the grumbler passionately.

'I don't care if he blocked your cave,' Gleto said angrily, 'you cut him
up once more and you'll join him.'

'Eat red food. Eat red food,' Balon snarled in the speaker system.

There were no more incidental remarks over the speaker that day, but it
was a constant source of odd, vulgar dialogues between much the same
personnel during the next week.

Although I never understood their topical references until much later,
my understanding of the language increased immensely… if limited to a
very rough vernacular. I knew there was a war going on between these
people and the inhabitants of another planet, Tane. I knew that the army
unit, the Patrol, was considered to be run by incompetents and that the
casualties were high. That there was a sudden epidemic of insanity that
caused the guards no end of secret amusement.

I had been told by Balon to return the tray after I had eaten the red
food. I was then told to be seated in the other chair of the room
without any further commands for what seemed a long time. My private
meditations were uninterrupted until the green sun had sunk from sight
and a twin-moonlit night well darkened.

As the greening twilight increased to the point of low visibility, I was
briefly startled to see the lights in the four corners of the room come
on. It was not overly bright for me to assume that a central agency
turned on all the functions of the cottage, remotely controlling the
order of the days with no need for personal contact. This isolation was
merciful to me as I sorted out truth from fancy in newly regained
sanity.

Perhaps, on another day, if I hadn't heard the coarse interchange, I
might have innocently announced my rationality. The wise decision to
remain silent was strengthened each day by the grotesque conversations I
overheard. It was lucky, too, that there was not a single diversion in
that barely furnished room so that my activity, outside of the care of
my patient, was restricted to looking out the window or sitting looking
at my vacant-eyed companion. Any other industry would have immediately
communicated my change to the guard on his random rounds.

I learned early that the speaker system was two-way. A chance, overloud
comment on my part fetched the guard instantly. To him I presented the
same vacant stare that inhabited the face of my charge. He looked at me
suspiciously, caressed me in a vulgar fashion that shocked me motionless
and departed with a shrug of his shoulders.

After that I lived with another dread, that one of them might select me
for his pleasure.

It was a good thing, too, that there was no visual check installed in
the cottage or I should have been apprehended the very next morning of
my rationality as I stood in front of the window and made my most
amazing discovery.

For the body I inhabited bore few resemblances to the one I distinctly
remembered possessing. It was the same height, same chestnut hair, but
it was a slim, graceful figure I saw, not my former awkward self. And my
skin was a warm golden color. All over. In contour my face was similar,
but now my blue eyes stared at, to me, a totally transformed face. My
incredulous fingers softly caressed the new, marvelously congruous nose.
No longer was I crucified by that horrible hooked monstrosity bequeathed
me with hereditary injustice from some New England zealot. This new
nose, all golden, fine-grained skin, was straight, short and charming. I
stroked it, reveling in the tactile sensation that proved it was really
part of me and there was no more of it than I could see in the window
reflection. How many, many agonies that horrid nose had given me. How
often I had railed at the injustice of parents who produced child after
indiscriminate child and had no money to provide more than basic needs
and none to remedy cruel genetic jokes.

Had they been at least sympathetic, I would not have left home. But they
couldn't even understand why I wanted to save money for plastic surgery.
Only Jewish girls felt it necessary to have nose bobs. The fact that I
looked Semitic with such a nose didn't bear on that problem.

'You are as God made you, Sara, and you've much to commend you to any
decent self-respecting man.'

'But nothing to commend myself to me,' I remembered saying, 'and I don't
see any decent self-respecting men pounding a path to my door.'

They couldn't argue that, certainly, for not even my brothers could be
blackmailed or pressured into getting me dates. But they could and did
argue against my going to New York, although I had a written job offer,
a good one with an advertising firm, confirmed and secured.

'Why the library right here in Seaford has offered you a very nice
position,' my father had argued.

'Seaford? I might as well rot in the end of the world,' I had cried.
'I'm twenty-one and I'm leaving home. If I cook another meal for anyone,
it'll be for myself and not for six field-hand appetites that don't know
decent food from pigs' swill.' I had glared at my brothers, busy
shoveling food into their mouths. 'If I iron anything, it'll be my own
clothing, not shirts and shirts and shirts.'

'The girl's ill,' my mother had declared as if this explained my
unexpected outburst.

'All that education,' my father had retorted sourly. He had resented my
insistence on college, to the point where I had had to work constantly
to support myself: making ends meet only because library majors got
state support.

'I'm not ill. I'm sick, but not of education. I'm sick of Seaford and
everyone in it.'

'But everyone knows you here, hon,' Seth, the brother next oldest to me,
said soothingly. He alone came nearest to appreciating my despair. He
had needed glasses desperately as a young boy and his now permanently
damaged eyes were weak, watering and subject to continual inflammations.

'And no one wants me,' I had cried from the bitterness of my soul. 'At
twenty-one, I have never even had a date.'

'I'm leaving, Mother,' I had repeated quietly and to end conversation
had started to clear the table. And I did leave, taking my suitcase from
the back porch on my way out the kitchen door to catch the night bus to
Wilmington and the train to New York City.

But now, here on some strange planet, God only knows how many
light-years from Seaford, Delaware, I had my new nose. I giggled. If I
ever got back home, I could use my savings for a trip to Europe. Only I
was abroad already.

I stroked my nose again and then the smooth, golden-skinned arms where
the dark hairy growth had once added to the list of my physical
embarrassments.

Further examination proved that three prominent scars, the rewards of
trying to play tomboy to my older brothers, were gone from my body. Of
my disfiguring marks, only the double gash on my right instep where I
had stepped on a bottle wading remained. But the corns on my toes from
shoes too short for growing feet were gone.

I was utterly delighted, mystified and grateful to, if appalled by, the
strange agency that had caused this transformation. I was all my most
glowing dreams had once evoked. Not beautiful but pretty, healthy
looking with my golden tan (only it wasn't a tan, I discovered),
properly curved - and precious little advantage could I see of it,
locked in one room with a mindless idiot.

The air of danger and despair that hung over the pleasant gardens and
bare cottages could not be mistaken. When outsiders walked among us, the
guards were tensely alert. The lack of treatments of any kind, the tenor
of the conversations I overheard on the loudspeakers, contrasted
strangely with the luxurious surroundings and the physical appearance
girls and patients were made to maintain. The other women who paraded
with their charges were pretty, perfect in their prettiness with almost
frightening similarity. Their expressions were only slightly more
intelligent than those of their patients. A case of the dolt caring for
the idiotic in a moronic paradise.

I learned the reason for the simple harness that had to be strapped on
my man before each promenade in the garden. A small, needled vial
containing a tan, viscous fluid, was aimed at the right arm through the
padding that kept both arms bound to the sides. A jerk on the reins
exerted a pressure that drove the needle into the arm.

I saw one man run berserk, yelling, dragging the girl who, in her
stupidity, still clutched the reins. He halted abruptly, screaming in
agony, and dropped rigid to the ground. The performance thoroughly
frightened me and I regarded the big man I cared for with alarm. I knew
of no such precautions should a seizure overtake a patient in the
cottage. One night, though, I did hear the sudden crescendo of
hysterical laughter, shrieks and a final shrill cry from a neighboring
cottage. I did see the limp, bloody figure of a girl carried out.
Another pretty, blue-robed woman took her place by the next exercise
hour, vacantly parading her glassy-eyed charge. I took to staring at my
ugly man at all times, hoping to forestall such an occurrence in my
cottage. I knew every line on his face, every pitted scar, every twitch
of his muscles. At one point, I started with every deep breath he took.

My patient received his first professional visit eight days after my
recovery. Three men came in; a white-coated technician pushed in a small
treatment cart and immediately left; the fat-faced man called Gleto came
in and a man whose appearance was an odd contrast to Gleto's.

Gleto ordered me to stand in one corner and vacantly I moved after what
I considered an appropriate time for moronic comprehension. I stood,
however, so that I could see everything that went on and the third man
held my attention most.

He was not tall, just my height, and carried himself stiffly erect. His
movements were all as precise as a Scots guardsman, no motion was
wasted. His skin seemed to be drawn tightly across his skull and each
straight black hair on his head was precisely combed into place. His
nose was high-bridged and thin; his lips were thin, his eyes of a
nondescript shade were penetrating and intense, set deeply into his
skull. There was no expression on his face nor were there any lines that
indicated he had ever had any expression. A colder personality I never
met nor a more impressive one. In dress, manner, color, motion, speech,
he was a machine of efficiency, not a human being.

He made a rapid and thorough examination of the patient, skimming the
first page of the stiff chart on the treatment wagon without missing a
word. Looking up, he said:

'I see no need whatever of increasing the dosage now. The injection
every two weeks plus the oral amounts in his food are ample to subdue
his personality,' and he implied that his valuable time had been wasted.

'I'm taking no chances,' Gleto replied accusingly, 'and you haven't been
here in two months. You know how powerful Harlan is physically,' and the
heavy, fat eyelids flickered with unctuous insolence,'since it took
three injections to hold him under the first week.'

The cold man looked at Gleto. 'And you will no doubt recall from whose
laboratories cerol originated and who is most familiar with its
properties. I am no more eager for his recovery than you. It would
interrupt my research at a time when success is a matter of weeks away.'
The thin, precise eyebrows raised imperceptibly and the cold man reached
for the chart again, flipping over a few rigid sheets before his thin
finger jabbed at a notation.

With no expression he now indicated displeasure.

'Where is the weekly absorption count? If you are stupid enough to
ignore the simple precaution of an absorption count, naturally you are
stupid enough to sit quivering with fright that Harlan might recover. I
thought I had made the necessity of those checks adequately clear to
your technicians.'

Gleto attempted to pass this off.

'Do not evade the issue, Gleto,' came the implacable voice. 'The
absorption count has not been taken for four weeks. One is to be taken
immediately and retaken every other week. When I have perfected a simple
check, I do not intend to waste time coming here just to remind you to
use it.'

'I don't have the technicians to…'

'What about that… fellow outside?'

Gleto snorted at the suggestion.

'I thought so. You've spent only enough of your wealth to maintain an
outward appearance of efficiency and shiver in your bed at night because
your avarice prevents you from hiring sufficient personnel to run this
place properly.'

Gleto looked at him suspiciously and then twisted his lip into a sneer.

'You don't fool me, Monsorlit; absorption rates, ha! That's just an
excuse to get more of your dummies off your hands.'

Monsorlit turned his eyes from the chart he had started to reread to
gaze at the fat man. The room became still, broken only by the breathing
of the patient, until the sneer left Gleto's face and he began to shift
his bulk restlessly.

'Your assessment of the situation is erroneous and I mistakenly credited
you with more medical acumen than you possess. And I correct your term
"dummy" to "mental defective".' Monsorlit's voice without changing pitch
gave the effect of a shouted disgust for Gleto. 'Since your perception
is limited by its effect on your cash pouch, I will send, with my
compliments, a repossessed technician who can perform this simple but
necessary test. He will come each fifth day. I will have one ready for
such tasks in four weeks. In the meantime,' Monsorlit took a lancet and
ampul and deftly took a blood sample from the ugly man.

Gleto recovered his poise and affected a knowing smile.

'Your generosity, indeed,' he scoffed.

'The technician's instructions will be limited to Harlan, as he is the
only one with whom I am concerned,' Monsorlit continued, taking up a
filled syringe, testing it and then plunging it into the patient's vein.
The man's body became rigid with muscular tension, quivered as if trying
to release itself from the grip of the drug and finally relaxed. Sweat
beaded his brow and rolled unheeded to the pillow.

'If he's here, why can't he do Trenor's nine as well?' Gleto insisted
angrily.

Monsorlit stood up, wiped his hands precisely with an antiseptic
solution.

'As I said, my only concern is Harlan. If you wish to hire the services
of the technician for the others, you may check with the business
director for the rates.'

Gleto's face turned an apoplectic purple and he controlled himself with
effort.

'That's how you market your dummies. Oh, you're clever, Monsorlit, but
one day…'

Monsorlit eyed him dispassionately.

'One day my techniques will replace this… this,' his gesture indicated
the gardens and cottages, 'unprofessional arrangement. There will be no
need for it. Men may come to my hospital, broken in body or mind, and
leave whole and sane.'

Gleto's little eyes widened with a touch of horror.

'They aren't dummies then; you've been restoring again. That's your deal
with Gorlot. I thought your safe-from-Milness had taken a tumble.' Gleto
laughed derisively now. 'How long do you think it'll be before Council
finds out! And gasses you and your vegetables!' Gleto stopped with a
sudden thought and gasped, looking at me in terror. 'Is this one a
restoree? Are all these dummies restorees? Are you unloading the
dead-alive on me?' he screeched, advancing on Monsorlit.

'Does she act like a restoree?' the physician asked calmly. 'No, she
acts exactly as she is, a moron from my Mental Defectives Clinic,
repossessed through shock techniques of enough intelligence to perform
the monotonous and routine duties of your establishment just as others
from my Clinic pick fruits and vegetables in the farmlands of Motlina
and South Cant. Don't think you're the only miser to take advantage of
this type of limited perception personnel in these times of worker
rebellions and rising prices. And don't think you do me a favor when you
use them. The only favor is to your fat self and your fattening purse.'
Monsorlit accurately judged the fat man's capacity for insult and took
up another subject.

'The technician will be sent here for Harlan's absorption rates and,
because of his limited intelligence, will be unable to grasp the
necessity for performing any other tests. Trenor will, for all his
imperfections, take a jaundiced view toward your neglect of his nine
reluctant patients. The decision is up to you and I believe your loss
would be the greatest.'

Monsorlit left the room, motioning to the technician to collect the
cart.

Gleto stared after the precise figure, pouting angrily, and when the
technician nervously tipped over several bottles on the table, his fat
fist clubbed the man viciously.

Satisfied, he hitched his tunic into a more comfortable crease over his
shoulders and stalked out. I stood staring in front of me while the cart
was wheeled out and for some minutes after the lock snapped into place.
The tension of the scene between Gleto and Monsorlit was cold and heavy
in the room and I was cold and scared.

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CHAPTER TWO
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Contents - Prev / Next

The ugly man whom they called Harlan lay twitching occasionally. I had
considered it misfortune enough that he should have fallen over the edge
of sanity in the prime of life. Now I knew him to be an unwilling
drugged victim of some scheme, my pity was tinged with outraged
righteousness. I looked more closely at the face, hoping to find in it
some vestige of intelligence I had missed, some reassurance of
personality to fit in with the entirely different role in which he was
cast.

His gray eyes, their pupils dilated to the edge of the iris, stared with
their customary vacuity at the ceiling. I saw now that the ugly face did
have an innate strength and that immobility did not rob his long,
heavily boned frame of its look of power. I wondered if a vibrant
personality overcame the basic ugliness of features. Perhaps a smile. I
fashioned one on the lax lips, but it was too much a mockery for me to
judge the spontaneous effect.

I had noticed during my care of him the scars on his person: the new
tissues were smooth, no gaping pulls to indicate stitches, not even on
the raggedy gash across one cheek. The tip of one index finger was
missing. He was a battered and bedamned fellow.

As I pitied him, I pitied myself, for my sympathy now tied me to him
more effectively than any possible dedication to a mental cripple. I was
stung with an impulse to batter down the door and run, run, run away
from the fear, the implications of evil, the vulgarity of the guards and
the massive frustrating boredom. I wanted to leave all his
unfamiliarity, and somehow, although logic indicated I was nowhere near
my own world, find my way home.

After I had settled him for the night, it occurred to me that if he were
sane, he could help. And perhaps, he could be made sane. Monsorlit had
spoken of doses in his food. If I could withhold his food long enough,
he might partially recover, at least enough to help me.

There was one drawback. If I didn't feed him, his hunger would betray
me. And I would go hungry if I fed him all my food. I decided, in the
final analysis, that I had no choice but to try this idea. I certainly
didn't know the planet and he did.

The next morning I fed him most of my food, and just a little of his
own, eating the remainder of mine and some of his to sustain me. I felt
strangely disoriented all day and had difficulty in forcing myself to
move. The next day this feeling had increased so noticeably that I ate
none of his food and gave him none. I got very hungry.

By the fifth day, I was ravenous and he was so restless during the night
I had to block the speaker grill with a pillow. He was hungry, too, and
bit savagely at the spoon, so that I gave him even the little I had
reserved for myself, eating only enough of the blue food to stop the
roaring within me.

That night, he spoke in his sleep and I lay rigid with terror that the
pillow had not sufficiently muffled the sound. Every moment I expected
the guard to come striding in.

During breakfast on the sixth day, his eyes blinked and he tried
desperately to focus them. He was struggling so hard, mouthing sounds in
an effort to speak, that I was torn between the desire to hear and the
necessity of keeping him quiet.

Such hope as swelled in my heart for his return to sanity was rudely
disappointed during our morning walk. He did not seem to grasp my
furtive, whispered explanations. His eyes still blinking furiously to
focus were as vacuous as ever. At dinner, he ate more normally, chewing
with intense concentration. The night was a continual struggle for me,
against the sleep I desperately craved, against his moaning which I had
to muffle against my shoulder. The next morning, he actually seemed to
see me and I smiled encouragingly, hopefully, patting his hand
reassuringly. The witlessness had left his expression and he looked at
me, deeply puzzled, struggling to form a question when the guard walked
in on one of his sporadic visits. Rigid with horror, I stared at the man
I had almost rescued, my one chance to leave this horrible place
suddenly torn from me as success was so near.

The guard barely glanced at me. Furiously he jerked his finger at the
red bowls and then, shouting a litany of 'Blue bowl for the patient.
Blue bowl for the patient,' he struck me again and again with his whip.
I shrieked in pain and fear and cringed back from the flailing whip,
trying to climb under the bed, away from the searing lash.

'This imbecile piece of idiocy is color-blind all of a sudden,' he
yelled at the loudspeaker. 'Blue bowl for the patient. Blue bowl for the
patient,' he shouted, emphasizing his phrases with lashes for me until
his rage was spent and I lay weeping, sore and bleeding, half under the
bed.

Gleto arrived in minutes and examined the patient, giving him an
injection and watching as I was made to feed Harlan from the blue bowl.
Gleto added his blows to my painful back, grinning sadistically at my
yelps. I cowered back against the wall as far from him as I could get.

'What bowl do you feed the patient from?' he demanded, advancing on me.
'Red bowl?'

I shook my head violently.

'Blue bowl?'

I nodded violently.

'Blue bowl, blue bowl, blue, blue, blue,' he roared, punctuating each
word with an open-handed slap on whatever part of my twisting body it
met.

'Blue, blue, blue,' I shrieked back, covering my face with my arms and
keeping my back to the wall.

'That'll take care of her,' Gleto grunted with satisfaction and, to my
weeping relief, he and the guard left.

Although some of the weals on my back and legs were bleeding, a warm
soaking in the shower was all the treatment I had. That night,
uncomfortable to the point where no position gave me relief or the
solace of sleep, I lay awake. Several times, Harlan's heavy limbs
overlapped me and made me cry out involuntarily. The speaker chortled
back with delight at my discomfort. I resolved not to give them
additional satisfaction and stifled my moans.

Mulling over my 'bravery', I realized that I had actually escaped very
lightly. The guards and Gleto were so secure in their assumption of my
idiocy, they never once had questioned a deliberate attempt on my part
to feed the prisoner the wrong food. They also assumed that I had made
the mistake only once. They had not examined Harlan closely, but the
administration of the drug had drawn him back into his witlessness. No
technician, though, had come to take an absorption count. I had not yet
lost my chance to escape nor to free Harlan from his stupor.

I was not lucky enough to continue my experiment with Harlan as
immediately as I had resolved. A guard was present at every feeding for
the next four days. Four longer days I never endured, filled with
constant cuffs that added new bruises to barely healed ones and new
obscenities to a list my limited experience had never wildly imagined.

As soon as I was sure they had decided I had learned my lesson, I
started again. Nothing could have induced me to acquiesce now. That
brief, if interrupted, respite from the drugged food contributed to
Harlan's quicker recovery. By the fourth day, he responded to my
insistent urgings for silence. On the fifth day, he spoke for the first
time on the morning walk. I saw the deliberate effort he made to keep
his voice low. It was difficult for him to enunciate. He had to repeat
the simplest phrase with frustrating ineptness.

'They beat you,' he managed to say finally, his eyes focusing on the
bruises on my face and arms. I clutched at him and nearly wept for the
unexpected comfort of his first rational words. A deep feeling of
gratitude, joy, respect and love flooded me. I had been too long denied
a normal society. The bruises abruptly lost their aches and I
straightened shoulders I had curved against the tenderness of my back.

'How long,' he struggled to say, 'am I here?'

'I don't know. I have no way of telling.'

The approach of the guard curtailed conversation for a while.

'Way escape?'

'I don't know.'

'You must,' he insisted.

I steered him toward the menacing opacity of the force screen fence and
he nodded imperceptibly in understanding.

'There has to be a way,' he asserted. 'The date?' and I could only shake
my head as his look reproached me for my ignorance. He couldn't know I
had never been taught to tell the time of his world nor understand the
names of days and months.

We were herded back to the cottage and the guard, while I shuddered
apprehensively, kicked Harlan into the room as he always did. I ducked
by as quickly as I could as much to escape the lascivious touch of the
guard as to caution Harlan against violence and warn him about the
ceiling speaker. He was staring at it as I hurried to him, his lips
moving, his eyes snapping as the therapy of anger cleared his mind of
the last hold of the drug.

He examined his jacket with care and discovered the needle and its
paralytic fluid. With bare nails he managed to pry it out of the stiff
fabric. He held it in his hand thoughtfully for the prize it was,
looking speculatively at the door. He grinned suddenly, not at all
nicely, and secreted the vial in the belt of his loose tunic.

I indicated that we would have to sit down, would have to follow the
orders of the speaker assiduously, pantomimed the pillow over the
grillwork and nighttime. He nodded comprehension, sighing with
impatience.

So we sat, facing each other. He looked above my head, deep in thought,
his big hands flexing and stroking the arm of the chair as we waited.

Now his face was alive with the spirit of him, he was no longer an ugly
person. His deep-set eyes sparkled and his mobile face showed some of
the changes within him his thoughts provoked. Occasionally he would
glance at me, curiously, smiling to reassure me. Once or twice, after
some thought struck him, he inhaled as if to speak, caught himself and
compressed his lips impatiently.

The arrival of dinner was a very welcome diversion. He reached for the
blue bowl and I all but snatched it out of his hands. I hurriedly dumped
it in the commode and showed him that it could not be eaten.

With a quizzical expression he regarded the one small portion of dinner
that remained, shrugged his shoulders and divided it in two. Bowing with
mock ceremony, he handed me my spoon with a flourish that made me want
to laugh. We ate slowly to make our stomachs think they were being fed.
I have since looked back on that bizarre first meal with Harlan as one
of the happiest moments of my life.

To have found a friend, again, to be companionable with another human!

The next day, at lunchtime, we had an awful moment. As Harlan was about
to dump the blue bowl with obvious relish, I heard the lock turn. Harlan
needed no prompting to assume a stupid expression. I began, slowly, to
feed him from the blue bowl. The guard watched this performance,
fingering his whip. I trusted he interpreted my trembling as fear of a
beating rather than terror at discovery. He left and the lock clicked us
into privacy.

Harlan rose swiftly, and, by the simple expedient of thrusting a finger
down his throat, expelled the drugged food.

That first night, lying beside him on our mutual bed after the muffling
pillow had been crammed against the grillwork was another of my special
memories. I was keenly aware of his warm strength beside me. Before I
had had no thoughts at all about the propriety of sleeping next to an
inert moron, but a vibrant personality rested beside me now and I was
acutely conscious of myself and him.

Harlan recovered control of his tongue, but he was puzzled at my own
still-halting speech and my inability to understand parts of his
questions.

His perplexity made me nervous in a half-fearful way as if by the mere
accident of not speaking clearly, I had committed some wrong.
Defensively and with some involved explanations of my presence, I
managed to make it clear that I knew I came from another solar system.
His doubt was so apparent that I sketched the Sun and its planets by
fingernail into the bedsheet. It held the impression long enough for him
to grasp my meaning.

Immediately his expression became wary and veiled. He strained to see me
clearly in the moonlight and shook his head impatiently at the
limitations of that glow. We were lying side by side when he suddenly
leaned away from his close inspection. He took my hands in his, stroking
my wrists with hard thumbs. He sat up and did the same thing to my
ankles, then my hairline. His confusion persisted and, against my
soundless protest, he turned back my dress to run light, impersonal
fingers over the rest of my body as though I had been someone dead. This
reassured whatever worried him. But his body remained tense and his
expression was no longer as open and friendly as before.

He asked me almost too casually how I got here.

'I don't know. But you do believe me… that I'm not from this world?'

He shrugged.

'My sun has nine planets, my world only one moon; my sun is golden, not
green,' I persisted urgently. 'And the reason I have trouble
understanding you is that you speak so fast and use words I don't know.
It isn't because I'm stupid… or insane.'

His withdrawal made me frantic that I might lose the precious
companionship I had so recently won. He must understand me so he would
take me with him. I could see he had every intention of escaping as soon
as he could. I had no doubts he would succeed or die in the attempt.
Death to me was preferable to the alternative of remaining in this
ghastly place.

'I can't remember how I got here,' I wailed softly. 'I just don't know.
I was walking in a park at night on my own planet and something big and
black hovered over me. The rest is all mixed up in the most horrible,
horrible nightmares.'

'Describe them,' he demanded in a cold, tight voice that scared me.

The words rolled out. The weight of the grotesque scenes and
experiences, walled up in my subconscious, poured out, as if voicing
them would erase the remembered horror and terror. I don't recall what I
did say and what I couldn't bring myself to say until I realized that I
was trembling violently and he was holding me close against him. At
first, I thought he was trying to muffle my voice, but then I heard his
voice soft with low reassurances and his hands were very gentle.

'Be quiet now. I do believe you. I do. There's only one way you could
have got here. No, no. I don't doubt now a thing you've said. But that
you are sane and… well, it's a miracle.'

There was incredulous wonder in his tone. He looked at me again,
excitedly. The only thing I cared about was that he was no longer
withdrawn and cold, and that he did believe me.

'You know how I got here?'

'Let's say,' he demurred candidly, 'I know how you must have got to this
solar system. But how you reached Lothar and this place, I can't even
hazard a guess. The only possible explanation…'

'You mean your people have interstellar travel and brought me here as a
slave,' I interrupted, thinking with a sudden rush of hope that I would
be able to get back to Earth. Though what Earth held for me was too
mundane after this experience.

He hesitated, considering his next words. Then, settling me into a
comfortable position against his shoulder, his lips above my ear, he
explained.

'My people didn't bring you here. I'm reasonably sure of that. We do
have interstellar travel, but I cannot believe my race has penetrated to
your section of space. Before I took so conveniently ill,' and his voice
was sardonic, 'no new exploration was contemplated.' He snorted with
remembered exasperation. 'I am reasonably sure, however, that your
planet has been invaded by the curse, and paradoxically, the salvation
of our Lothar. We call them the Mil. They're a race of cellular giants
which have had interstellar flight since the beginning of our recorded
history, some two thousand years ago. To be precise, they are the
beginning of our recorded history. We are, bluntly, their cattle, their
fodder. That's all right, take it easy,' he said reassuringly.

His similes forced me to admit to myself what I had desperately tried to
hide; that the disassembled pieces of anatomy that twisted and turned
through my nightmares were horrifyingly like the joints on hooks in a
meat market.

'They have periodically raided this system for centuries. When we
finally penetrated one of their depots here on Lothar [I realized he was
using the historic "we"], we began the long struggle to free ourselves
and our planet of this terrible scourge. We turned their own weapons on
them and then had to learn how to use them properly and repair them.
Kind of progress in reverse. Now, we have not only been able to keep
them off Lothar, but also out of this immediate sector of space. Our
losses are still heavy in every encounter, as it is difficult to best an
enemy with armaments similar to your own. Our big advantage is our own
physical structure. However, rarely do any of our ships and patrolmen
fall victims of the Mil.

'I don't know how far they range, but I suppose we have forced them to
find new sources of supply. Your planet, for one. Easy now. I forget
it's difficult for you to accept such a terrible fate for your people.
We've lived with it all our lives.'

'But, if these…

'Mil, although at one time we called them "God",' Harlan remarked,
grimly humorous.

'… these Mil captured me on a raid on Earth, how did I get here? On
your planet?'

Harlan frowned. 'I would like to believe that our Patrol intercepted the
ship you were on and captured it. But…' and he stopped as if he could
see the fallacies in the theory and they disturbed him. 'It must be way
past Eclipse; or is it? If it is, I've been here a long time. Haven't
you got any idea of how long you've been here?'

'I can only recall the last few weeks clearly. Yet it seems as if I've
been here forever. I guess I was in shock or something,' I ended lamely.
'I certainly was surprised to find I was a nurse for someone else.'

'All the more reason to get out of here as soon as possible. My head is
clear now and my reflexes feel normal. It's been like swimming through
sand. Still,' and he looked at me speculatively again, shaking his head,
'I don't understand how you managed to remain…' he hesitated and
supplied another word, '… untouched.'

'Untouched? Oh, but I don't look the way I used to,' I assured him, my
hand rubbing my nose.

'Don't be ridiculous. You obviously aren't a restoree,' he said sharply.
I felt tension return to his body and coldness to his voice. 'There
isn't a mark on you.'

'No, that's just it. There isn't,' I replied. 'I've lost three scars,'
and I pointed to the areas involved, 'and someone took pity on my…' my
hand touching my nose.

'Scars? Missing?' he interrupted in a hoarse whisper.

'Yes,' I prattled on. 'I had a long gash on my arm where I got caught on
a picket fence…' and my voice trailed off as I saw his face. The
mixture of horror, distaste, disbelief, anger and, strangely, hatred,
stunned me.

He grabbed my wrists in an angry grip and rubbed them, tracing the
junction of hand and arm with fingers that hurt with their prodding. He
felt around my ears, pulling my hair back roughly.

'What's the matter?' I pleaded, my delight congealing.

He shook his head, hard, as someone whose neck muscles have contracted
spasmodically.

'I don't know, Sara. It's just hard to believe,' he replied
enigmatically. 'Yet you would not have been able to think things through
the way you have if… We've got to get out of here. We have got to get
out!' he said passionately.

With a fluid stride, he crossed the room and yanked the pillow from the
grill. He settled back in the bed, patting my arm reassuringly, as if he
realized how worried I was by his reactions.

It was a long time before sleep came to either of us. I remember feeling
his fingers on my wrist again just as I drifted into unconsciousness.

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CHAPTER THREE
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Contents - Prev / Next

During his sleeplessness, Harlan had made the only plan of escape our
mutual limited knowledge of the asylum afforded. To pass the force
screen, we must overpower the guard in the cottage by means of the drug
vial we had pried from the straitjacket. Harlan would wear the uniform,
I would daub myself with blood, Harlan having assured me that the blood
would be donated by the guard. We would try to pass out the gate of this
section of the asylum as if I had been attacked by my patient. From
there on, we must improvise. If it came to sheer strength, the
powerfully built Harlan would prevail. However, neither of us could
foresee what preparation might have been made for escapes.

We also had no choice. Each day might bring the arrival of the
technician to take Harlan's absorption rate and we were too sure of the
results of that test. I also couldn't tell when the next intravenous
injection would be administered. With it, I would have to start all over
again, denying Harlan the drugged food, waiting for his return to
sanity.

Whatever qualms or fears I might have normally entertained were
overruled. Harlan's anxiety and frustration intensified my own desire to
be out of this mad place. And, too, not once did Harlan intimate he felt
he had a better chance of escaping by himself although I was sure he
did. He had included my release in his calculations and brushed aside my
own half-hearted attempt at sacrifice.

Every day Harlan's recovery had been jeopardized by the random
appearances of the guard. This one day, when we were nervously primed
for our escape, he was conspicuous by his absence. Harlan had to exert a
tremendous control over his impatience and I was constantly forced to
remind him during the exercise period to stop charging up the paths, to
school his expression into the proper witlessness. He endured these
corrections far better than I should have. All in all, by evening both
our tempers were frayed by the unrewarded waiting.

As soon as the lights were out, Harlan, releasing some of his
frustration in the action, rammed the pillow against the speaker and
began to pace around the room in a frenzied way.

His pacing grew as unendurable to me as a fingernail scraped across
slate.

'Last night,' I began hesitantly, not knowing what I wanted to say but
knowing that any conversation was better than this taut silence, 'last
night, I told you who I was and how I got here. Who are you besides
Harlan and how did you get in here? Who drugged you? Why?'

He paused in mid-stride, frowning as my questions brought him out of his
thoughts. He gave a sort of snort, smiled and, after another moment's
silence, began to talk. He had a pleasant voice when he kept it low, but
it had the burr of the military bark and a metallic quality. Gradually,
as he talked, he stopped pacing, and then sat down, watching me as he
spoke with a disconcerting attention.

'You certainly do deserve some explanations, if only for all the meals
you gave up,' he said, gripping my shoulder as a gesture of his
continued gratitude.

'Before I came here, I was Regent of this planet for my eldest brother's
son, Ferrill.'

'I thought the guard had called you Regent, but it didn't make any sense
then.'

Harlan grimaced. 'That guard… It's the custom here on Lothar for the
Commander of the Perimeter Patrol to assume the duties of Regent if the
heir to the Warlordship is under age when he becomes a candidate.'

'Why couldn't you be Warlord if you were brother to the…'

'No, that doesn't follow,' Harlan replied blandly. 'I should say,
Ferrill was my half-brother. We had the same father, but Ferrill's
mother was the first wife and his progeny inherit. Besides, I've other
plans for my time once Ferrill is of age. Like finding your planet. I
like finding new planets. I like exploring.' A boyish grin lit his
features. 'I've had luck in that direction already. Found two new ones,
fraternal planets around the star we call Tane, my fourth year on
Patrol.'

I gathered this involved more than just searching a section of space
until you found stars with satellites. I murmured proper things, only he
frowned.

'They've been more trouble than they're worth… almost,' he continued.
'The inhabitants are humanoid, but the gentlest, dumbest people
imaginable. They make some of our associates here look like Council
members. They've got two of the most beautiful planets, crawling with
game animals; Lothar doesn't have too many any more. Their oceans are
full of edible fish; their lands, which the Tanes don't even bother to
cultivate, would support millions of us. They've got mineral resources
that make the mind swim when you think how many ships, instruments and
fuel it means in terms of our fight against the Mil. And those innocent
creatures roam from one place to another like pleasant dreamers.'

'Haven't the Mil bothered them?'

'Evidently not. They don't have even an elementary sense of caution or
suspicion. They would have fled from our expeditionary ships if they had
encountered the Mil. Most of our fleet has been recruited from or
designed after Mil ships.'

'Why are the Tanes trouble then? Can't you just colonize or mine or…'

Harlan leaned forward, balancing his elbows on knees and slapping one
palm into the other to emphasize a statement. Or, which was
disconcerting, he would point his tipless finger at me.

'I don't know about your world, but here on Lothar we're crowded. So
crowded that every inch of land is either cultivated or catacombed with
mines, cities and factories. We run to big families, sort of law of
supply and demand. But the Mil don't harvest us anymore, so every new
child crowds his family that much more. There aren't enough jobs to go
around nowadays nor is there enough food as there used to be. We don't
need so many men in active Patrol, but yet we have to train every young
man against the day we're big enough and strong enough to follow the Mil
back to their own planet and wipe them off its face.'

'So,' I interrupted, 'everyone who isn't well off wants a share of one
of the Tane planets and to hell with the Tanes.'

He nodded agreement. 'Only it isn't just those that aren't well
situated. It's the big landowners, the big industrialists and the big
scientists who want priority and mean to get it. And they've got all
kinds of reasons.'

'I'll bet,' and I refrained from giving him a brief account of the
American Indian. 'And I imagine no one cares what happens to the Tane.'

My perspicacity pleased him.

'Council had accepted a plan to allow colonization first for farmers,
because our crying need is food. But farmers are conservative and those
younger sons, willing to go, those without patrons in Council, are being
intimidated or beaten up unless they belong to a certain guild. And the
people who lead that guild will buy up the land once the farmers settle
on it and that will be the end of individual agricultural expansion. Or,
take the small mining outfits. Only a few have dared to apply for
permission to work the Tanes. Why? They've found their homes ruined,
their credit is suddenly destroyed, or their equipment is wrecked just
before takeoff.'

'But surely you're trying to find out who's behind it?'

'It is one group,' Harlan said wearily. 'I'd found that much out before
this happened to me. There is one man, or a few men, who were guiding
the attacks on my colonists. But what baffles me is: why? I mean, for
what reason. You see, Lothar has always had just one purpose since we
first shook off the yoke of superstition and managed to repel the Mil
from landing on our planet. We mean to destroy the Mil completely. Our
whole psychology, our whole history, has been directed toward that aim.'

'Perhaps after… how long did you say… two thousand years, this
purpose is wearing a little thin,' I suggested with the Crusades in
mind.

'It couldn't,' he said without qualification. 'Not when the Mil are
always so close.' He frowned. 'You see, actually it's only in the last
one hundred and fifty years that we've kept them entirely away from our
planet. And we couldn't have done that without Ertoi and Glan.'

'Who?'

'Inhabitants of another nearby star. You can see them from here,' he
said blandly. He pointed out the window to a pulsating red blink that
was the primary of the system. 'Ertoi and Glan take care of that entire
section of space. We've been able to push our Perimeter Patrol four
light-years beyond our own system. Since then, we have adequate
protection against a concerted attack. The first time,' he said with
justifiable pride, 'we lost all but two ships of our entire combined
fleets, but no Mil landed on our planets.'

'Well, who do you think is the traitor?'

'My second-in-command, a fellow by the name of Gorlot.' Harlan's eyes
narrowed speculatively. 'I'm not sure. It couldn't be that… No. They
know we're not ready to go after the Mil yet unless that new weapon…"
and he trailed off tantalizingly. 'This Gorlot's a throwback.
Uncivilized. He lives only for battle and he's a master strategist.
Pulled off some extraordinary maneuvers three Eclipses ago. That's why I
seconded his appointment when Gartly retired. But he's no good as a
peacetime officer and the Perimeter has been very peaceful. He belongs
back in the days of the first Harlan with the Seventeen Sons when it was
all we could do to find caves deep enough to escape the Mil. He'd be the
proper man to send out to the Mil, but… That hothead forgets that no
Lotharian has the guts,' he threw in, 'besides himself, because he did
it one day on a wager, to walk into a Mil ship until it's been
completely decontaminated. The smell of those things is enough to set a
tough squadron leader raving. Until the Alliance with Ertoi and Glan, we
had to wait until the Mil decomposed inside their ships before we could
refit them. Fortunately, the Ertoi and Glan aren't hampered by such
childish terrors.

'I wonder,' and Harlan drew back into his thoughts for a long time. His
conclusions did not settle his mind, for he growled with impatience and
resumed his pacing, cursing Gorlot, cursing his own stupidity for
falling into the trap of the asylum.

'I've got to get out of here and back to Lothara,' he cried in a groan,
clenching and unclenching his fists behind his back as he paced.

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CHAPTER FOUR
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Contents - Prev / Next

Sleep that night was not restful. It was peopled with formless
obscenities and charged with fear and anger, frustration and
hopelessness. I was alone in the bed when I awoke. Startled I turned in
panic and saw with relief that Harlan was up and pacing, his face black
with worry and fatigue.

At breakfast there were none of the pleasant pantomimes we affected
about the division and consumption of our scanty ration. Harlan ate
quickly, glowering.

The walk in the garden that morning was sheer relief. The four bare
walls of the cottage had grown smaller with every passing minute. Harlan
had draped his jacket loosely on him so that a strong outward pressure
would free him. We had agreed to delay returning to our cottage until
the guard was forced to round us up. This assured us of a chance of
overcoming him once we got to the cottage. So we dawdled at the far end
of the grounds on the outside paths following the line of the force
screen. We were at the high end, midway between two posts when it
happened.

One of the patients went berserk. He threw himself at the screen,
dragging his unwilling companion with him. Together they went up into a
torch of blue flame, burning fast and hotly with only the echo of
screams of unutterable agony to mark their death.

Even as I stared with paralyzed horror at these human torches, Harlan
had reacted to the opportunity. Flinging off the jacket, he grabbed me
by the shoulder and together we hurtled into the faltering screen. I
thought I, too, would be consumed in flame. The pain and shock that
coursed through my body was too intense for me even to scream a protest.
Then, once past the weakened barrier, only an endurable ache and burning
sensation remained. The burning was quite legitimate because our
clothing had been reduced in an instant to scorched tatters. Even the
heavily padded jacket was singed brown. Harlan, however, gave me no time
to pause and take stock. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me through the land
moat around the force screen and into the grain field with its high
waving grasses.

'Have you no idea, Sara, where this asylum is?'

'None,' I cried, feeling the pull of the sharp grass tendrils against my
sensitized flesh. The fence had always blotted out the environs of the
asylum.

'Farm, farm, farm,' Harlan panted. He was tall enough to see over the
rolling fields that stretched out in all directions from the
institution. He glanced up at the sun, squinting, but it was too near
the zenith to be much help. He halted briefly, sniffing the slight
breeze.

'Sea!' he declared and abruptly turned off to the right, guiding me with
a firm hand under my elbow.

'Can't we just find a road? It would lead us somewhere,' I gasped,
struggling to keep my feet under me at the pace he set.

'Road!' he flung at me contemptuously and trotted up the rise in front
of us. He kept glancing back over his shoulder. I didn't dare look back.
It was all I could do to keep up with him.

We ran through the fields until I had such a grabbing in my side, I
could not run further. He sensed, rather than inquired, about my
condition and let me collapse in the shelter of the tall grain at the
next rise. Keeping himself sheltered by the grain, he looked out in all
directions, again sniffing the breeze.

'We may have a little time before we'll be turned up missing, Sara,' he
said, dropping down beside me. 'They'll have their hands full, rounding
up the patients. They may not even take a head count right away. They've
gotten lax and overconfident. However, the situation of the asylum
itself, located right in the middle of farmlands, makes an air search
ridiculously easy.' He stopped and grabbed up a handful of straw. 'Of
course. We've got part of our camouflage right here.' He laughed and
started stuffing straw into his tunic so that the stalks stuck straight
up behind his back and out across his shoulders. I followed his lead
and, when my tunic parted over one shoulder, plastered myself hastily
with the soft moist earth.

'Good girl,' Harlan said and smeared his own skin with dirt where it
showed whitely through. We looked like scarecrows after a week's rain
when we had finished.

'Now, we will make for the sea. The moment you hear any noise at all,
drop flat in the furrows,' and he pointed out the cultivation ridges.
'The grain is tall enough and thick enough that we may not be visible
when they're going to look for running figures. And, they won't expect
me to make for the sea,' he added cryptically.

He held out his hand to me, and, taking a deep breath, I rose and we
started out again.

We had scarcely gone the length of that field when I heard something or
other than our laboring breath. Before I could react on my own, my face
was in the dirt, Harlan's body overlapping mine.

Had the searchers been on foot, passing near us, I'm certain the sound
of my heart would have given us away. The chirrop, chirrop of a plane
car neared, passed over us, retreated and cautiously we rose, checking
to make sure another was not hovering. Running low we made it to the top
of the next field. Even I could see that the land was sloping down
gradually. The smell of the sea, tart and crisp, was strong enough for
me to scent as I held my sweating face up to cool in the wind.

I'm not sure I was grateful for the times we had to lie face down in the
moist black soil, waiting till the searchers passed over us. I got my
wind back each time, true, but the terror of waiting, unable to risk a
glance above, was more breath-snatching than the exertion of flight. Six
times we dropped, each time a little nearer to where the land dropped
off to the sea. And then, there was the sea before us, a hundred feet
down the high straight precipice on which we stood.

My courage sank, for here, at the cliff edge, which seemed to curve for
miles in each direction, the fields of tall grain ended. Fifty yards
between sea and field was covered with only low straggling bush,
inadequate cover for us walking straw-stacks.

Harlan caught my despairing appraisal and squeezed my hand reassuringly.

'There are ways down to the beaches.'

'And then what?' I gasped, indicating the pounding surf.

'The tide will be going out soon and we can go swiftly on the sand,
taking cover under the cliffs if necessary. Much better for us. Come,
now we strike northeast. These cliffs tell me exactly where we are.'

But he didn't bother to tell me, either because he knew it wouldn't
matter or because he forgot I wouldn't know. As it happened, we were in
South Cant.

He had held on to the padded jacket all through our flight in the
fields. Now, as he removed the straw from his own clothes, he realized
my nakedness. Ripping off two of the dangling tapes with which to secure
his tattered tunic round his waist, he gave me the jacket. Quickly I
threw it on, tying the remains of my dress around my waist.

'Good, the dirt is still useful,' he grinned and, taking my hand, we set
off again.

Harlan was too good a leader to tire us both to the point where we would
be unable to make a final dash. We rested at intervals and a bit longer
when we chanced on a stream not far from where we made our descent to
the sea beach. As he had predicted, by the time we did find a way down,
the tide was retreating from the bronze sands. The cool strand was
refreshing to our weary feet.

My flimsy sandals, adequate for treading garden paths, gave way all too
quickly on the abrasive surface of the beach. Walking on the damp coarse
sands turned into torture for me once the sandals gave out and the soft
skin on my feet was abraded with each step. I was wondering how long I
could continue this way when I was brought up sharply against Harlan's
rigid body. There was no need for him to caution me to silence. I could
see the boat as it stood out from the cove we faced. I could see the men
as they clustered around their fire, hear their voices as they argued.
Worst of all, I could smell the food they were cooking for their supper.
Now hunger overruled the other discomforts and the fact that I had
missed what lunch there was to eat made the lack of dinner torture.

Harlan pulled me back into the sheltering shadows of the cliff. Had we
continued on much farther, even the gathering darkness would not have
hidden us from a chance look by the fishermen.

'Can you swim?' and when I nodded,'to that?' he asked, pointing to the
boat.

'Yes,' I agreed although I was not the least bit confident. I was so
tired and my feet hurt and my stomach ached and I was very annoyed with
everything for going so wrong so long. I didn't consider how extremely
lucky we had been so far. At least not with the smell of food in my
nostrils after a prolonged fast. I comforted myself with the thought
that I wouldn't have to walk to the boat.

I didn't count on the icy water nor the sting of salt in the multitude
of scratches and abrasions that scored my body. Nor did Harlan allow me
time to ease into the water as I preferred doing on family outings at
Rehoboth. Harlan pulled me inexorably deeper.

'Don't swim overarm yet,' he hissed at me and a wave caught me full
face. His arms supported me while I coughed the water out. 'You can
swim?' he asked.

'Yes, yes,' I assured him, stung by his skepticism and I struck out
toward the boat with a vigorous breast-stroke.

As if he still doubted my ability, Harlan matched his pace to mine, only
he guided me out to sea, rather than on an oblique line toward the boat
from the shore. I caught his purpose, to approach the boat from the
seaside, although it added many yards to the original distance.

If the sea stung my cuts, its coldness supplied me with a false feeling
of exhilaration. I tried to speed up, to prove to Harlan I was
competent, but he warned me not to extend myself. He was right, of
course, because as we turned toward the boat finally, my weariness
returned doubled. It was so difficult to get my arms out of the water,
hard to keep my legs moving.

'Sara, not far now,' Harlan's voice said encouragingly. His face was a
white blob over my right shoulder as I swam and ahead of us the boat was
a solid blackness, its single mast silhouetted against the dying light
of the twilight sky. Thrashing frantically, I lunged at the stern line,
missing, going under, writhing upward, grabbing out in panic. Harlan's
hand found mine and guided it to the security of the rope.

'Rest,' he whispered and cautiously swam round the boat. I could hear
him, a barely discernible rippling, as I gulped for breath.

'No one aboard,' he confirmed. 'But they took the small-boat ashore.'
For some reason this disappointed him. 'Oh, well, in that case it'll
take them a long time to spread the alarm.'

'Maybe they'd be friendly,' I hazarded, looking up at the sheer slippery
side of the ship and wondering how I was ever going to make it into the
cockpit.

Harlan answered my suggestion with a snort. He lunged up out of the
water, caught at the gunwhale, his body a whiteness against the dark
boat. He got both hands secured and then I heard him inhale as he
gathered his strength to pull himself up.

How selfish can you get, I derided myself, he's just as hungry, just as
tired, just as sore as you are and worried to boot.

I heard him swear softly, a note of pain in his voice. I could hear him
padding somewhere on board and then his face appeared above me.

'Grab this,' he whispered and a heavy soft rope dangled in my face.

I looped it around my wrists, thankful I shouldn't have to make the
climb unaided. Kicking myself out of the water, I felt Harlan pull me.
As soon as I could reach the side, I grabbed for it, resolved to use as
little of Harlan's energy as possible. Once safely on board, I felt
drained of any power to move and I was numb with the chill of the cool
evening.

'Here, get this on,' he urged and pressed a handful of clothing on me.
The garments smelled of sweat, stale and sour, and were sticky with
salt. But I struggled into an old sweater and found it covered me
halfway to the knees. I rolled up the sleeves and wished it covered me
to the ankles.

'I suppose it's too much to ask if you've sailed a boat,' Harlan said in
a low voice.

'Yes, but only as a crew member, long ago.'

He gripped my shoulder with rough gratitude. 'You never cease to supply
my need.'

I struggled to a sitting position, wondering what he meant exactly, and
looked around. As nearly as I could gauge in the light, the boat was
about thirty-five feet long, sloop-rigged, the sail now neatly furled on
the boom, the jibsail not even out. The boat was obviously a workship; I
could see piles of nets and woven baskets. There seemed to be a small
cabin and it was here that Harlan had found sweaters.

'It's a shame but I've got to cut the anchor. Too much time and noise to
lift it out of the water.' Harlan told me. I could see the gleam of a
knife blade in his hand.

'It'll save time if I cut and you hoist the sail,' I told him and taking
the knife, crept forward. My hands seemed strengthless as I sawed away
at the heavy anchor line, thankful it wasn't chain. I heard Harlan
heaving at the sail and it seemed like noise enough to rouse the dead.
It did rouse the men on the beach. I sawed faster.

'Hurry, Sara,' I heard Harlan call and wondered why he still kept his
voice low if the men had heard the creak of the sail.

I felt the line and there was only one strand still uncut. Frantically,
I hacked away and, just as I felt the pull of the ship against the wind
in its sail, the anchor line parted.

'Grab the tiller and head for the sea,' Harlan cried, still struggling
to lift the cumbersome sail. I guess in the dim light it was difficult
to see what he was doing. And he was tired, but he made heavy work with
the sheet.

Tripping over deck-stored gear, I scrambled astern and found the
unfamiliar tiller handle.

If for only this one adventure, my tomboy days paid rich dividends. I
had run with Harlan, swum with him and now I was able to crew for him.
And, undoubtedly, I cautioned myself with the memory of sour
disappointments, when the Yacht Club Dance on this world came round, it
wouldn't be Sara who was waltzed by the ship's captain.

Harlan was cursing as he tried to make fast the sheet. I caught at the
trailing line as the boom threatened to knock him overboard. I trimmed
sail and steered for the open sea.

The men on shore now had realized what had happened and were shouting
threats across the water as Harlan joined me.

'It's another miracle that you can sail,' he muttered to me. 'I can't.'

'You can't?' I gasped, appalled at the situation. 'Why not?' I demanded,
as the responsibility now resting on me became apparent to my tired
brain. He couldn't possibly imagine that I could sail this bloody boat
on an unknown sea to a port I'd never seen.

'Too busy,' he grinned. 'You're doing all right.'

That explained his ambiguous comments and his awkwardness with the sail.

'Now, yes,' I practically screamed at him, 'but if you knew you couldn't
sail, why in heaven's name did you steal the boat?'

'I'd've figured it out, but I'm glad you already know how,' he repeated
complacently.

The volume of his audacity was frightening.

'That's comforting to know,' I said acidly. 'Sailing an open sea is easy
even for an idiot Regent. And I imagine you probably would have figured
it out before you piled up on a beach or reefs. At least you have the
advantage, I assume, of some familiarity with the coastline of this
world. I don't. I don't know your goddamned world!'

'My what world?' he asked as I had interjected an English cussword.

'What do you want me to do now?' I cried, tears of fear, frustration and
fatigue starting down my face.

'Steer for the open sea,' he said blandly.

'And then what? I don't even know how big your seas are, what the tides
are like! You've got two bloody moons to complicate that minor detail of
sailing. How do you expect me to…'

He put his arm around me, settling down beside me. His very presence and
magnificent self-confidence helped calm my hysteria.

'The Finger Sea on which we sail,' he began calmly, 'is deep, no reefs
or shoals except along the eastern edge. We will sail due east across it
toward Astolla. It will probably take all night, so we would face the
reefs in daylight when nothing is as overwhelming as it is at night. I
do know navigation, Sara. And since you can handle the mechanics of
sailing, we'll be all right. My purpose in heading east is to reach the
home of an old friend of mine.' He chuckled to himself. 'We fought so
the last time we met, I'm sure no one will think to check at Gartly's
for me.'

'If you fought, why would he welcome you?' I demanded, worrying not so
much about what happened when we arrived as to how we would manage to
arrive in the first place.

'Gartly is part of my loyal opposition, that's all. He has no love for
Gorlot at all or any of that cave. None at all,' and Harlan mused on
some private memories, his face sober.

The wind freshened and the ship moved at a willing clip. The wind was
also cold and I began to shiver.

'First, there must be some food aboard. I could eat a brant,' Harlan
said. 'And there had better be more clothing, too.'

He found both. The coarse bread and strong cheese filled my stomach and
with rough cloth pants to keep me warm, my fearfulness dissipated. The
ship was simple to handle, even for one person, the lines being winched
astern so a lone steersman could handle the sheets from the cockpit on a
long haul.

'How long a sail is it?' I asked Harlan when he settled down beside me
again after another thorough prowl about the ship.

He shrugged.

'I have only a spaceman's idea of distance. A mere half hour or so by
planecar.'

I groaned. 'I wish you really knew what you had let us in for,' I said,
depression overwhelming me.

'I do what I must,' he said sternly. 'And I must get to Gartly.'

No apologies was I ever to get from Harlan. And naturally I found myself
accepting his inexorable logic that we would get where we wanted to go,
novices though we were, because we had to.

The sheer audacity of his idea was what saved us, I think, from
discovery. For we sailed all that night with a good stiff following
breeze. Harlan insisted on taking a trick to allow me to rest although I
was reluctant to leave a complete tyro in charge of the ship. He assured
me that if the wind would change --my one worry because sailing with a
good following wind is child's play-- he would wake me. He kept his
word, waking me at dawn when the breeze dropped off. He also pointed
with smug complacency at the distant outline of mountains on the
horizon.

He had used a hand line and caught us breakfast. Once I had mastered the
cooking stove, we ate hot food until we were stuffed. With land at least
in sight and a full stomach for only the second time in several weeks,
my depression disappeared.

'We were farther up the coast than I thought,' he remarked. 'Let's get
close enough so I can figure out where we are.'

I shook my head over his blithe unconcern. He laughed at me and then
peered at the rising sun.

'That is,' he amended, 'if we get any wind.'

'That'll be a long paddle,' I remarked, trying not to be too sour.

'Pessimist,' he teased. 'Yesterday at this time, we were securely locked
up in Gleto's amusing retreat with not a chance in a hundred of getting
out. You make the most of the opportunities the gods grant and you'll
win out.' Harlan said with fine good humor. 'Did I not have you as a
nurse? Did you not have the wit to understand what was being done to me?
Can you say that we have not succeeded in escaping?'

'Those men had all night to get somewhere to report their ship stolen,'
I reminded him.

'True enough,' he replied, unruffled. 'But they don't know who stole.
One man? Several? There are plenty of bandsmen prowling. Nor, if they
were simple fishermen, are they likely to give wind of it to Gorlot's
people. I had meant to take the small-boat which they might easily
believe had been improperly tied. But…' and he shrugged. 'But this
gets me closer quicker to help. Then, too, how long will it take Gleto
to summon up enough courage to inform Gorlot I'm missing?' he chuckled
nastily.

'He'll delay as long as he can,' I replied, feeling a little reassured
by that one fact.

'And, as it is known I have never sailed, the last place anyone will
look for Harlan is on the sea.'

'It's going to be a long row,' I repeated, looking anxiously at the limp
sail and the glassy water.

'We can while the time away,' he suggested in such an altered tone of
voice I glanced around sharply at him.

Before I realized what he had in mind, he had pulled me into his arms.
Startled and completely surprised, I clutched involuntarily at his
shoulders for balance and was being kissed expertly and thoroughly. What
thoughts my emotions gave room for were chaotic. I was as split into the
various facets of my personality as if I had been literally blown apart.

The girl with the beaknose had never been kissed except as a party joke
or absentmindedly by departing brothers. The unwanted girl who had
stolen longing looks at shamelessly necking couples in Central Park had
no firsthand experience with returning a kiss. His forceful invasion of
my lips met neither resistance nor response. The stranger, by some crazy
agency dumped on a strange planet, could and did not want to antagonize
her one friend. And the sister who had overheard her brothers' candid
comments on girls was all too certain the direction such beginnings
would take. And I, all of me, didn't want him to stop kissing because of
the way my heart pounded and my body ached for the feeling of his hands.
Yet I didn't know what to do.

I could sense the change almost as soon as it begun. Harlan lifted his
head and looked at me slightly puzzled.

'And what's wrong with me?' he asked.

I realized he was asking me if he were the cause of my inability to
respond.

'Nothing, it's just…'

'Don't they kiss on your planet?' he asked with a boyish incredulity.

'Yes, but I never did,' I said inanely, my hand going to my nose.

That did it. I could see his face change again, that closing-out look I
hated. Although I was still in his arms, against his chest, he had
withdrawn.

'Please, Harlan, don't go away from me like that,' I pleaded.

His look softened and he took my hand, his thumb absently rubbing my
wrist.

'Then you are untouched?' he asked kindly, as if this were not exactly a
privileged state on his world.

I could only nod, knowing I must be blushing at his frankness. I was
torn with a horrifyingly unmaidenlike desire to encourage him, even if I
didn't know how to go about it at all.

He chuckled at some inner thought and hugged me with affection but no
passion, kissing me gently on the eyes.

'Then, my dear Sara, this is neither the time nor the place if such
beginnings are to be auspicious. We both smell to the high heaven
and…'

A sudden flapping, creaking, caught both our attentions and we hastily
disengaged to duck as the untended boom, moved by the rising wind,
missed knocking us overboard by a hair's breadth.

'Yes, this is neither the time nor the place,' Harlan repeated, laughing
boyishly as he lunged for the trailing line and I grabbed the swinging
tiller.

Again I was torn by opposing desires: relief that I had been saved rude
wakenings, and frustration because I had been aroused. I wanted Harlan.
And when again would I be in a position alone with him when there was
opportunity and time?

'Damn the wind,' I muttered to myself as I eased the ship about.

The purple smudge on the horizon deepened into the green of treed
slopes, fringed with boiling surf. I pointed out the inhospitable
coastline.

'We can't land in that, Harlan,' I protested.

'Let's sail southerly. The land breaks into the delta of the Astolla
River past this range. Only we want to land before we get to Astolla
itself.' He squinted at the mountains. 'Gartly lives above Astolla and
that will be the hardest part of the trip.'

He didn't qualify his comment, so I didn't realise then he meant that
the danger of being encountered by someone who would recognize him was
greater. I took him to mean the mountains and I groaned.

He turned to me, laughing. 'All uphill, Sara, all uphill. Only,' he
noticed my feet, bruised and raw, 'we'll have to do something about
them.'

'And this,' I added, distastefully indicating my overlong sweater.

He rummaged in the cabin and came up with additional ill-smelling
garments. Finding a bucket and a line, he heaved it overboard and to my
amused astonishment, he started to sluice the clothing up and down in
the clean seawater. He wrung them out neatly and spread them to dry on
the deck.

'Our hosts were probably good fishermen but incredibly dirty,' he
commented when he had finished. 'They'll dry quickly. Shall I take a
turn?'

'I'm fine,' I assured him and then I still was, what with the recent
sleep and enough food and his approval.

He went forward and I saw him heave the bucket over-board again. This
time it was himself he washed. I tried to keep the sail between me and
glimpses of his strong golden body. It had been one thing to tend him as
a moron, another to consider him as a lover.

I should not presume on his friendship later, I promised myself. He was
too much consequence for someone like me and I'd be more than a fool to
think I meant anything to him.

We sailed on for a long while, well into the sunny morning, until I was
lethargic with the sun, hungry again and very tired. I was mesmerized by
the masthead and the jibsprit which I kept pointed toward the ever
nearing shore line. I was lost in fatigue and musings when suddenly
Harlan's hand dropped to my shoulder.

Startled, I gasped and flinched as though I'd been struck.

'Is my touch offensive?' he asked, frowning.

'No, no,' I hastily assured him. 'I was worlds away.'

He knelt down beside me and I noticed his bare chest was red with sun.

'You've got a burn.'

'So have you,' he retorted and I saw he had put on clean dry pants. He
thrust a handful of dry clothing toward me. 'These were the smallest and
may fit better. Go on forward and wash some of the mud off, Sara.'

I hesitated as I rose, as much from weariness and being in one position
so long, as from the knowledge the sail did not conceal much from a
determined watcher.

'If I look, I won't tell,' he taunted, grinning wickedly.

Grabbing the clothes from him, I turned on my heel with as much dignity
as I could and made my way to the bow. The pail was there and some soft,
linenlike sheeting that he must have used as toweling. Traces remained
of mud stains that hadn't come out with just a seawater rinsing.

It was very heartening to remove that filthy old sweater. And better
still to get the rest of the mud off my body. My face stung in the salt
bath, but when I was clean and dressed again, I did feel better. With
decided pleasure I kicked the rags of my asylum tunic overboard and
watched them sink below the surface.

'Now,' said Harlan as I returned to the cockpit, 'we must give you a
plausible account of your existence in case you meet some awkward
questioning. Gartly was my second-in-command and is an honorable man,
but you, my dear Searcher,' and his phrase puzzled me,'require some
explanation, even to the most loyal comrade.'

'Why not the truth?'

'Sara,' and he turned my face so I looked at him fully, 'you have no
idea how you got to this planet?' When I shook my head negatively, he
continued,'then until I do find out, or you remember, the mere fact that
you are not of this planet is very dangerous. As soon as I can, I shall
start some adroit inquiries, but for you to come out and admit to an
extraplanetary origin would mean your death without further explanation
to you or from you.'

'It'd be much easier to tell the truth. Then it wouldn't matter how many
things I didn't know,' I said plaintively.

His look silenced me. 'I have taken that into consideration. I'd prefer
to be able to send you up to my estates in North Lothar, but I may not
be able to do that right away. Of course, the less you have to say about
your past the better, but Gartly's of the Old Beliefs, and clan and
cavesite mean much to him. Now listen, Jurasse is the next largest city
to Lothara. It's northwest of the Finger Sea, deep in the mountains.
Your father… what was your father's name? Steven? No, make him Stane,
a better Lotharan name. Your father Stane was a mining engineer. I'll
put you on a professional level, my dear lady,' and he grinned at me,
'and as there are several hundred thousand miners and engineers in and
out of Jurasse, there's scant way of checking.'

'But he must have gone to college or university,' I said.

'Un-i-ver-sity?' Harlan asked, puzzled.

'Advanced schooling, training in his speciality,' I qualified.

Harlan shook his head quickly. 'No. One learns on the job here. Stane is
a fairly common name and we'll make you of Estril clan and Odern
cavesite.'

'What is the significance of clans and cavesites?' I asked grimly.

Harlan exhaled his breath and looked at me. Then he covered my hands
with his big strong one. 'I'll explain all that later. In the meantime,
it is only important for you to know a clan name; the Estrils are
conservative but known for their intense loyalty to their leaders, and
the Odern is such an enormous old cave, hundreds of clans could refuge
here.'

'All right. Estril and Odern. Jurasse, next largest city, mining,
northwest.'

'Good girl. Your father died in a mine accident that happened just…
well, I don't know how long ago now, but it happened in the Tenth Month
of the Single Eclipse. Just memorize it, Sara, no explanations. The same
earth fault destroyed blocks of apartment buildings. So you can have
lived at the sign of the Horns and no one will be able to run an
accurate or quick check. Your important relative is your mother. What
was your mother's name?'

'I wish you'd stop saying "was". For all I know, they are very much
alive,' I snapped.

'Not as far as you're concerned on Lothar,' Harlan said with patient
firmness.

'Maria.'

'Make it Mara of the Thort clan, that's a South Cant group. Farmlands
had some bad plague about thirty years ago… how old are you, Sara?'

'Twenty-four.'

He smiled and started to say something, changing his subject even as he
opened his mouth to speak. 'Fine. Then all but your mother died in that
plague, so you have no maternal family to worry about. This happens
often enough and as the Clan Head may always be approached, no one is
ever really orphaned. Between Jurasse and South Cant your accent can be
accounted for. South Cant slurs and Jurasse is throaty.'

'Mara of the Thorts from South Cant. No cavesite?'

'South Cant was not settled until caves were no longer a necessity.'

'Where did I meet you?' I asked.

Harlan stared off into space, rubbing his mouth with his hand.

"That's the hard one, Sara. Particularly since I don't know how long
it's been since I was first drugged nor how or when you might have been
brought here.'

'Might there have been a group of old loyal cavemen who have fallen out
with Gorlot and were suspicious of your collapse?'

'It's possible. Let me think on this. Once I get to Gartly, I can catch
up on recent happenings. Then I'll fill in a logical background.'

'Now,' he said more briskly, 'the last part of our journey presents the
greatest hazard of discovery. If we are taken into custody, you can
insist on silence until you have talked to a Clan Officer.'

Earth-type spy stories and atrocities crowded into my mind.

'Won't they just kill me to keep me quiet and have done?'

'Kill a potential mother?" he demanded, his eyes flashing. 'Unheard of.'
He looked at me. 'Do they kill women who can bear children on your
world?' he asked with trenchant scorn for such a wasteful culture.

I nodded slowly.

'Not on Lothar. Women are too important, even to Gorlot. No, your life
is safe.' He emphasized 'life'. 'And I have made my claim on you
already. Is that agreeable to you?'

His eyes locked with mine in an expression that warmed me to the pit of
my stomach. I could only nod mutely. His hand again covered mine as he
continued. 'However, should I be taken and you can escape, no, no… it
is possible. And, Sara, you are to run if I tell you. Promise me that!'
Again I nodded until his hand ceased his painful grip as he got my
grudging consent. 'All right, I am taken and you are free. Get to
Lothara itself and to the "Place of the Birds". Ask for Jokan. Tell him,
and only him, all that has happened. He is my brother.'

'And how do I get there? Fly?'

'That's the quickest way,' he said, taking me literally. 'Oh. No money.'
He shook his head, gritted his teeth and swore with an eloquence that
beggared what I had heard from the guards.

'We'll do it together, somehow, Sara. We've come this far in our search
because my Sara can sail, and think and act,' and he grinned at the face
I made at him. 'If we can win through to Gartly, we'll have money, a
planecar and help. Then we can make further plans. The important thing
is to make it to Gartly.'

The way the surf broke so savagely against the shore line, even that
modest ambition seemed unlikely. We were sailing a close-hauled tack
now, and farther down the coast, I could see the mountains falling away
to a plain. And at the farthest point, the glint of buildings in the
sun.

'Let's beach the boat as soon as we can,' Harlan urged, scanning the
shore.

I glared at him.

'Pick your spot, pal.'

'It's easy to see I spent my youth exploring the wrong planets,' Harlan
growled to himself as we sailed on and on.

I had noticed other sails, standing out to sea.

'Any chance they might be investigating us?' I asked him. He shook his
head impatiently. I glanced out at the shore line anxiously and sighed.

'I haven't been to this part of Astolla in years, but it seems to me
there is a beach. Gartly's one form of relaxation is fishing and…'

'Look,' I cried, half-rising from the cockpit.

Directly ahead of us, half hidden by the sail's spread, was a planecar.
Harlan catapulted into the cabin.

'You there in the fisherboat,' a voice, magnified artificially, roared
down at me. The hovering craft swung round the ship. All I could think
was they'd been able to see Harlan hiding in the cabin. 'From where are
you bound?'

'And what business is it of yours?' I demanded evasively, cursing
because that was another thing Harlan had not bothered to brief me on.

'Answer when you're spoken to, woman,' I was told rudely and I doubted
Harlan's surety that women are not maltreated on Lothar.

'Come back when I can answer, you idiot,' I said, throwing over the
tiller on an unnecessary tack which made me obviously too busy with
sheet and line to answer. It also cut off the plane's view of the cabin.

'Are you alone?' they persisted.

'Son of a Seventeenth Son, yes,' I screamed at the top of my lungs,
remembering a mild oath from the guards' dialogues.

The boom, swinging free, completely covered the cabin hatch although the
plane was hovering suspiciously low on my stern. The ship had lost all
way, sail flapping. I glanced up at the planecar as it swung forward. I
saw the military uniforms on the occupants. I could even see the faces
of the men and I didn't like them.

'You Milrousers, go bother someone else. I'm too busy. Get off my back,'
I yelled, shaking a fist at them.

The boat rolled in the surf and another look to port confirmed that my
ruse was putting me in peril. Hastily I trimmed the sail and tried to
get sea room between me and the jagged rocks of the shore. That I was in
trouble now was too apparent to the airborne nuisances. The plane roared
off with a speed startling to one used to wallowing helicopters.

'Harlan, get up here on the double,' I called once the plane was safely
away. 'Harlan,' for the tide had seized the boat, carrying us farther
and farther inshore. 'HARLAN!' I screamed just as the boat struck a
submerged rock I had not even a moment's warning to avoid.

Harlan came on board just as the boom swung about and, as I rose in
horror, it swept us both off the deck and into the sea.

I came up gasping, the heavy seaman's clothing weighing me down. But
Harlan came up, too, not far from me.

'Are you all right?'

'I'm mad, clear through,' I screamed at him. 'Of all the stupid things
to have happen…'

'Don't waste energy, swim,' Harlan ordered as the little fishing boat,
unguided, was lifted by the surge of the tide and cracked down onto the
rocks. Hanks, splinters, tackle, debris of all sort went flying in every
direction as we swam out of the way. A flying piece of deck hit me
heavily on the shoulder, but the thick sweater protected me enough so
that all I got was the terrible initial buffet. Harlan disentangled
himself from fouled line and we both struck out away from the flotsam on
the water.

'I'm sorry,' I told Harlan, swimming at my shoulder.

'I wouldn't be,' he said good-naturedly. 'It'll probably be easier to
get ashore swimming than sailing.'

We were about a hundred yards from the rocky beach and I could see that
the haphazard rocks, a menace to a boat, were wide enough for a man's
body to pass between them. One only had to hold one's course through
them to make it safely in. Still, the tidal pull was now very strong and
if we were smacked against one of those rocks, it'd be too bad. It was
nervous business and we swept awfully close to the rough-skinned
boulders. The uneven footing when we reached shallower water was worse
going than the actual passage of the reef rocks. The footing was
slippery and the tide tore at my feet. I slipped several times and then
went completely down, skinning one leg so badly that Harlan had to
support me the last five yards.

Quickly, when he saw the bleeding, he picked me up in his arms and
carried me up the sand to the edge of the woods. He slit the trouser
leg, baring the nasty gash the length of my shin. My whole leg ached
from the jar of my fall as well as the lacerations. I felt very very
tired.

'We must get farther into the woods before the planecar comes back. The
wreck will be noticed,' Harlan said.

'Leave me here,' I pleaded with him after one glance at the thick
underbrush. 'I'm so tired. I'll only slow you down.'

'My dear lady, I have no intention of leaving you,' he said angrily.

He tore the sleeve from my sweater and bandaged my leg. He was about to
pick me up despite my protests when he froze, his eyes on the shore a
little to the right of us.

I whirled and saw a figure sauntering along the rocky beach, fishing
gear draped all over him. The young man stopped when he saw us and then
hurried forward.

'Can you give me a hand, stranger?' Harlan called. 'We've lost our sloop
and my lady is hurt.'

I thought that his audacity would win out over the odds again. The young
man was almost to us when he stopped short, his mouth open in surprised
shock, his body dropping to a crouch as recognition dawned on him.

'Harlan?' he cried, half questioning, half stating the incredible fact.

It was too much for me and for the only time in my life I fainted.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER FIVE
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Contents - Prev / Next

Something was burning my throat and my leg was on fire and someone was
choking me and I struck out wildly.

'Sara, Sara, it's all right,' I heard Harlan say. Opening my eyes, I saw
first trees all around us, then Harlan and then the concerned face of
the young man from the beach. 'We're safe, Sara. This is Cire, the
youngest son of my old commandant, Gartly. It's all right.'

'You're sure?' I asked stupidly, looking at Cire who seemed to me far
too young to be as much help as Harlan's cheerful reassurance implied.

'Here, drink this.' He held the metal bottle for me and it was more of
the stimulant that had burned my throat. It was powerful and spread
feeling through my arms and stomach, down to my vitals and my aching
leg. I looked down and this had been bandaged with something white and
far more comforting in appearance than the sleeve of my sweater. Ore's
fishing jacket was wrapped around me, warm and far cleaner than anything
else I had on.

'I don't want any more of that,' I assured Harlan as he lifted the
bottle to my lips again.

Harlan chuckled. 'Patrol issue is noted for potency.'

'How long have I been out? Of all the silly things to do.'

'Yes, very silly of you,' Harlan agreed amiably. Then both he and Cire
laughed at my expression of shock. 'That's better.'

He got up.

'Now, Sara, we've got to move on. The planecar did come back and saw the
wreck. What'll happen now I don't know. Ore says there's been no mention
of my escape, so that planecar may only have been a routine flight. But
the boat's registry number may come ashore with the wreckage. Then
there'll surely be inquiries made. Ore and I covered our tracks up from
the beach to make them think there were no survivors… or survivor. But
I want to get out of Astolla entirely by the time an official
investigation of the wreck is made.'

I struggled to my feet.

'You don't like it, but it'll help,' he added proffering the bottle. I
looked at him and then at Ore and reluctantly steeled myself for another
long swig.

'I'll be drunk in no time,' I gasped.

'You'll be walking it off,' Harlan retorted.

I'm not exactly sure 'walk' is what I did. Harlan made me take
considerable quantities of that brew once he felt me shivering through
Ore's jacket. I remember not too clearly the events following the first
long climb from the shore. I remember putting one foot in front of the
other and talking about it. I remember complaining because I wanted to
sit down and no one would let me. I remember being carried and then I
remember fighting with someone because they wanted to put me on a
planecar and I knew that was not right and I shouldn't get on a planecar
and I couldn't get away from Them. The last thing I do remember is
Harlan's voice, angry and arguing.

'By the Deep Cave, she's exhausted, that's all. Naturally she's talking
gibberish. Here, give her to me a minute.'

Someone was shaking me by the shoulders and I kept trying to get free.
Then Harlan kissed me and I managed to focus on his face and realized he
was the one holding me.

'Sara, Sara, listen to me. We're safe, we made it to Gartly's. Go to
sleep now. It's all right to sleep now.'

'Well, why didn't someone say so?' I remember saying bad-temperedly. I
heard Harlan laugh and then I slid down, gratefully, into dark softness
and warmth.

For me, time resumed after my legs stopped moving even in my dreams. I
awoke in a comfortable bed in a pleasantly sunlit room with an
indescribably appetizing odor tantalizing me. I sat right up in bed and
looked around, trying to place my surroundings. The wide bed had had
another occupant from the dents in the pillows beside mine. I decided I
had better ignore speculations in that direction for the moment.

It might even be a female Gartly, I told myself, having remembered
Harlan's final words to me. This pleasant blue room with its heavy
wooden furnishings was the antithesis of the institution asylum cottage.

A long soft gray robe was draped on the chair nearest the bed which
turned my attention on the nightdress I wore. To my relief, it was
utilitarian but feminine. Whatever was cooking made me ravenous. I put
on the robe and looking around for a bathroom, stumbled over Harlan's
fisher clothes.

'That settles that,' I told myself, both irritated and pleased.

The delicious odor was irresistible and I hurried through the necessary,
noticing in passing the mirror that I had picked up a nice tan, and that
I had lost my eyebrows and singed my hair shorter in passing the force
screen barrier.

As I opened the bedroom door, I walked out into a hall, half open to the
large room on the level below. Four men were sitting around a table
cluttered with the debris of a meal. They had been talking solemnly and
their voices died as first one, then another man became aware of my
presence on the balcony. The oldest, gray-grizzled man glowered up at me
fiercely and started to rise to his feet. I was about to take refuge in
the bedroom when Harlan, laden with a plate of food and a mug, backed
through a swinging door from the side of the house.

'Hi there, don't run, Sara,' he laughed. 'Come on down.' He noticed
Gartly's expression. 'Gartly frowns to hide a tender heart and Jessl,'
he added, nodding to the man he was passing on his way to the table,
'frowns from unfamiliarity with the light of day.' He set his dishes
down and, going to the foot of the stairs, waited for me to descend. He
squeezed my hand reassuringly and led me to the table.

He was an entirely different person in his joviality, in the obvious
affection towards two of the men, Jokan and Jessl. The Harlan I had
known in the hospital, tense, frustrated, pensive, the apparently
unconcerned Harlan of the sailboat, had transformed into this admirable
stranger with whom I was not at ease.

The four men rose gravely in turn as Harlan introduced us, bowing
formally, each bow as different as the character of the man. Gartly gave
me a peremptory bow, his mind obviously on the business interrupted by
my appearance. His blueing eyes passed over my face with the light
dismissal of an older man for any younger person.

Jokan, and I remembered he was Harlan's brother, was nondescript in
appearance, totally different from his brother. But his eyes, a
sparklingly clear blue in his rough tanned face, had a vitality that
detracted from the common-placeness of his features. His bow was
leisurely as he measured my face, my body, my legs and looking again
into my eyes, his lips echoed the greeting in his brilliant eyes.

Jessl, a stocky, chesty man in his late thirties, was less courtly,
checking me off in his mental catalogue as woman; intelligence unknown;
and unnecessary. But it was he who held out my chair.

Cire smiled warmly at me. He resembled his father in face and
outstripped him in size by half a foot but with undeveloped breadth. His
bow was jerky, unpracticed, and he flushed boyishly, yanked out of the
fascinating world of men to which he had so recently been admitted, by
the arrival of a woman his senior in years.

'How's your leg this morning?' he asked considerately.

'I didn't even remember,' I laughed, kicking my leg from the full robe.

'That's because you've slept nearly two days,' Harlan laughed. 'Ore, I
appoint you chief server to the exiled court of Harlan and hope I left
enough in the pot to fill a very generous plate for Sara. I've had five
servings, my dear lady,' and I heard Jokan draw his breath in sharply
and Jessl turned around to look at me queerly, but Harlan continued
briskly,'so I'm the guilty one if there isn't enough. You should, by
rights, be even hungrier than I,' and his light-hearted grin included an
ultimate reference to my abstinence for his sake.

Ore showed no reluctance to assume his honorary rank and went to get me
food. Harlan took up the conversation he had left to refill his plate.

'Hindsight, my friends, is of no use to us. We could sit here until the
Mil come again before that would solve our problem. Don't think for a
minute I haven't run from the caves of Jurasse to the Barren Plains for
believing myself inviolate just because I was Regent. I've succeeded in
making an absolute fool of myself and unless I'm careful about the next
move, I shall compound that impression and lose any chance whatever of
regaining the Regency.

'I've had a lot of good luck, lately,' his hand touched mine in
illustration, 'and we'll hope it holds until Stannall can reinforce it.
You're sure, Jokan, no one knows of your trip to Astolla?'

'I made the decision myself on the way to Jurasse and circled the Finger
Sea,' Jokan reassured him. He kept looking at me, however, not his
brother.

Harlan regarded the meat on his fork speculatively, then carefully set
the piece aside, leaning back in his chair.

'Now, Jessl has not been closely connected with me. Gartly and I had
that quarrel about sector assignments,' and Harlan's eyes twinkled at
Gartly who harrumphed righteously. 'They won't think of checking on any
of you first. We've got to get Council in session to revoke Gorlot's
temporary Regency. Ferrill can do it if we can reach him.'

Jokan and Gartly immediately jumped in to elaborate on the young
Warlord's rapid physical decline. No one had been allowed to see him
recently, even such old friends as Gartly and his uncle, Jokan. Gorlot
intercepted every attempt.

'I did get a few words with Maxil,' Jokan added, 'before that Milbait
Samoth came breathing down my neck. I shall take great delight in
kicking that fattail into so tight an orbit he's eating…'

'Jo,' snapped Harlan, indicating me. Jokan glared at me for the
curtailment of his invective.

I hadn't been paying too close attention because Cire had brought me the
stew. I was eating with unladylike speed.

'Well,' Jokan continued, 'I was in the public gardens…"

'You were? How?' Jessl exclaimed.

'Moved in with the sightseers. Lothara's full of Eclipsers, so…'

'Eclipse will be tomorrow night,' Harlan said, startled.

'That's the answer!' Jokan exclaimed.

'Don't be absurd,' Harlan mocked him. 'I couldn't get within ten feet of
the palace wing in any disguise. With a discreet alarm out for me that
would be the most closely watched place on the entire planet.'

'You don't need to go,' Jokan grinned, looking at the faces of his
friends to see if they had guessed his intention.

'You certainly aren't planning to send Jessl in? Or Ore, or old
gray-head here?' Harlan jibed and stopped, turning as they all did, to
look at me. Surprised, I nearly choked on a much too generous mouthful.
Jokan's grin broadened and he laughed with the gathering momentum of
relief and delight.

'Me? Don't be ridiculous,' I managed to say over my food. 'I wouldn't
even know…'

Gartly stood up abruptly, 'Are you mad? This little country girl? We
need someone like Maritha…'

'Who is so unknown at court,' mocked Jokan. 'Maritha would never do. Her
fondness for Harlan is well known.'

'It isn't her fondness, Jo, that would worry me,' Harlan remarked wryly.
'It's the fact that it was at her table I collapsed under such
suspicious circumstances.'

This deflated Gartly into a semishock, for he sat down immediately, his
face rather pale and tight.

'I gather that was never made public,' Harlan continued quietly. 'But
Sara can't go.'

'Sara's perfect,' Jokan went on enthusiastically, winking at me. 'We can
think up some absolutely idiotic quest for her.'

'Quest?' I asked.

'With that face, she could pass into Gorlot's very room.'

'It is not in Gorlot's room that we want her,' Gartly grumbled primly,
eyeing me with distaste.

My appetite deserted me.

'Aha,' Jokan crowed gleefully at Gartly's expense, 'beauty has the key
to any room.'

'Now, wait a minute,' I demanded, rising. Harlan put a big hand on my
shoulder and gently, but firmly, reseated me.

'Sara can't go. She has risked enough already,' he said with quiet
authority.

'What's the matter with you, Harlan?' Jokan demanded, leaping to his
feet, his eyes flashing his irritation. 'It's got to be her. It's so
simple a ruse it can't possibly fail. All Eclipsers have the right into
the palace on that night.'

'There has to be someone else,' I insisted, now that Harlan was backing
me.

'There is no one else we can reach in the short time we have. And it may
be shorter than we know,' Jokan insisted, turning to glare at his
brother. 'Ferrill may be almost completely broken down now, Maxil was
worried sick. And we know it's not his constitution that's weak, it's
drugs he's been fed. You know what drugs can do, Harlan. We've got to
reach him and save his life. Or is that no longer of primary importance
in your life, Harlan?'

Harlan was on his feet, the chair crashing to the floor behind him, as
he faced his brother, stung, angry, silent.

'Stop it,' I cried, pushing them apart. 'I'll go, Harlan. I've hazarded
this much already. Why not all?' I turned to Jokan once I saw the
bunched muscles relax in Harlan's neck and he ceased to crouch as though
about to spring. 'Jokan, it's as Gartly says. I'm a little country girl.
I've never even been to Lothara. But if you'll tell me exactly what I
have to do, I'll do my best to do it.'

Jokan's eyes gleamed down at me and he bowed ceremoniously to me.

'I like the country you're from, Lady Sara, if it breeds courage like
yours,' he said.

Involuntarily I turned for reassurance to Harlan. Did Jokan know of my
origin? Harlan had said I might tell him if anything went wrong. Had
Harlan already done so? Harlan's imperceptible nod indicated it was
merely Jokan's curious choice of words. He gripped my arm at the elbow.

'There is more at stake, Sara, than just Ferrill's life,' Harlan said
persuasively as he pushed me gently back into my chair. 'Which, any
indication to the contrary, means a great deal to me,' he added acidly
to Jokan who shrugged. 'Something very peculiar is happening on Tane if
Jessl's report is as accurate as they always are.'

Jokan's eyebrows went up in mockery. 'What's peculiar about a war?'

Harlan ignored him. 'It's absurd to maintain that the Tanes would have
initiative enough to revolt. Those people are no more capable of taking
a life or planning a cohesive rebellion like this than a restoree.'
Harlan's eyes flickered briefly as if he regretted making such a
comparison. His hesitation allowed Jokan to get in another dig.

'You're prejudiced on behalf of your little protegees, Harlan. You
haven't seen the damage these "uninitiative" people of yours have been
doing. Ferrill's the real urgency.'

Harlan turned angrily on Jokan. 'It's not prejudice, Jokan, and you
should know me better. So drop that attitude. This supposed uprising
masks another purpose. Just as my all too timely collapse and Ferrill's
suddenly failing health are indications of a Millishly well-laid plan of
far-reaching proportions. What I cannot understand is Stannall's lack of
suspicion. Surely he of all people must realize something's drastically
wrong. I cannot conceive him selling out to Gorlot or whoever is behind
this treachery. But one thing I'm sure of, Lothar stands in great
peril… of Gorlot getting complete authority, if he hasn't already; the
truth behind the Tane farce and the loss of a brilliant ruler if Ferrill
should have to be replaced.'

'He'll be replaced, even if he gets off with his life,' Jokan said
dully. 'He's a ruin already.'

Harlan snapped an angry denial, but there was no support from the
others. He turned back to me with a hint of the desperation I knew so
well.

'Sara, I don't think you'd be in any danger. The idea is so simple, the
time so accommodating. It has to be you.'

In his eyes were his concern and his fear and a desperate plea. His
hand, warm on mine, gripped me reassuringly,

'I hope you know what I'm doing,' I said anxiously.

'You know Ferrill, don't you?' Jokan put in, impatiently. 'All you have
to do is tell him that Harlan is sane and have him convene an emergency
session of Council. I assume,' he began acidly, 'Gorlot has started no
antivirility campaigns of Ferrill.'

Harlan shot him a surprised questioning look which Jokan waved aside,
but Jessl and Gartly snorted derisively so his reference was known to
them.

'Stannall,' Jokan continued, 'will then be able to do what else is
necessary… if he's still with us. He ought to have far less love for
Gorlot than we.'

'There's no other way to get to Ferrill?' I asked plaintively.

'Our faces are known. Yours is not. In the guise of say, the Searcher,'
Jokan improvised and I remembered that Harlan had called me his
Searcher, 'you can gain entrance into the public garden. Slip into the
palace wing and up to Ferrill's room.'

'No,' Harlan diasgreed on the last detail hastily. 'You said Trenor was
sleeping with him to prevent another one of these so-called attacks?'

'Yes.'

'Well, Ferrill will have to attend the Starhall festivities, won't he?'

'If he can walk.'

'Then Sara will have a far better cover in that crowd than trying to
find her way to Ferrill's rooms.'

'It's all very well to make her a Searcher, provided you can find a
costume at this late date,' Gartly grumbled, 'but how are we to get into
Lothara at all! Had that entered your glib plans?'

Harlan and Jokan exchanged glances.

'I do have the planecar,' Cire suggested. 'And I'm not too well known.'

'She can fly in herself,' Jokan said easily.

I grabbed at Harlan's arm. Sail I could, fly no.

'I don't fly,' I blurted out.

'What?' Jokan looked at me startled.

'Never needed to. Lived in Jurasse,' I mumbled and then looked
frantically at Harlan for support.

'The one girl out of how many thousands who never learned to fly when
she reached legal age,' Jokan said exasperated.

And Harlan wanted me to go right into the middle of the palace. I'd last
three steps inside the gardens and make another inadvertent mistake.

'I'd be glad to escort her,' Ore repeated and then blushed, 'if Harlan
permits?'

'I permit all right, but I just wish there were some way we could all
get into Lothara.'

'As well wish you had a map to the Mils' system,' Jessi snapped
gloomily.

'If she's to get into the palace wing at all,' Gartly put in,'she can go
in no shoddy affair. It must be a rich gown or she'd be turned away.'

'That can be obtained in town,' Harlan remarked easily, dismissing this
objection. Gartly stalked out of the room, his face reflecting pain and
anger.

Harlan watched him leave, shrugged and turned to rummage on a table for
a slate of waxy substance and a pointed stylus. Sitting next to me, he
rapidly sketched in a small plan of the giant structure that was the
capitol building, war office and palace of Lothar. Except that it
resembled an unrimmed, unevenly spoked wheel, its function put me in
mind of the Pentagon and the unreality of this adventure bore down on me
again. I had no chance for speculation because Harlan demanded my
complete attention as he described my route.

One wing of the enormous building was devoted exclusively to the
quarters of the Warlord's family, intimates and servants. Between the
spokes were extensive gardens. Only the ones adjacent to the palace wing
were fenced in and guarded. Into one of these gardens I must gain
entrance. While Jokan and Jessl listened absently to what was common
knowledge, Harlan explained in detail what I would have to know.

'Get to the point, get to the point,' Jokan urged impatiently once.

'Sara has never been to Lothara before and it's easy to become confused
in the dark of the double Eclipse. We can't afford any mistakes,' Harlan
replied calmly and proceeded with my orientation. Jokan contented
himself by noisily foraging in the kitchen.

Once I was in the gardens, I was to make my way to any one of the ground
floor balconies, enter the room it adjoined and let myself into the
corridor. The personnel of the lowest floor changed so constantly I was
unlikely to be questioned. Minor courtiers would undoubtedly all be
dancing attendance on their sponsors in the Starhall. I would follow the
corridor to the Hub which was the Starhall on the fourth level. I would
endeavour to get close enough to Ferrill to give him my message. Once
that was accomplished, I would merely retrace my steps and join Jokan at
the 'Place of Birds'. Any passenger cab would speed me there over the
confusion of the celebrating. If, however, I did not see Ferrill and my
presence was being noticed, I was to come back to the apartment and they
would try something else.

I had to agree to the plan's simplicity, but I could not help worry that
any plan undergoes revision in performance.

'If you find yourself in any trouble, Sara,' Harlan remarked, reading my
mind, 'give them one of your beautiful smiles and I doubt their minds
will remain on the question.'

'Oh, nonsense,' I snapped.

Jokan and Jessl grinned knowingly to my further embarrassment.

'What will her quest be?' asked Jessl.

'Well, to get her into the gardens in case there is extra guard on duty,
she can ask for a leaf of the Burning Shame plant. That's near the
palace wing,' Jokan suggested. 'Once in the palace, she can say she
needs a token from Ferrill to prove she has been claimed. She needs
immunity against a priest she doesn't like. I've seen that one used
often enough to know it's accepted.' Jokan's grin to Harlan and Jessl
made me suspect that ruse had a double meaning I couldn't understand.

There were too many cryptic remarks passed and references that puzzled
me. Had I known then what Ferrill told me much later I doubt I would
ever have consented to be a Searcher. My ignorance of the true story
served me well, I admit, and I'm sure Harlan's neglect in telling me was
intentional. The Searcher was an historically documented lady of good
clan who had become separated from her lover during a Mil raid. She
refused to believe he had been taken, and wandered over the planet,
looking for him, constantly in danger of being captured either by a
priest who coveted her or by the Mil. She would reward those who
sheltered her with jewels. Eventually the priest caught up with her. In
the joyous festival interpretation, the girl who played the Searcher
very often suggested to a male friend that he be the priest to whom she
surrendered herself after a token chase. Morals were totally different
on Lothar. Female continence over a prolonged period was unfavorably
viewed since women were expected to bear as many children as possible to
replace a population constantly lost to the Mil or the exigencies of
Patrol. Family continuity stemmed from the distaff side with the notable
exception of the Warlordship.

'Let's hope,' Jokan leered humorously, clearing his face when he caught
Harlan's expression, 'there aren't other priests along the way who want
to claim her.'

'That is why her costume is important,' Gartly growled as he re-entered
the room, carrying a wooden box with stiff tenderness. He laid it on the
table and with slow hands uncovered it, looking at the contents for a
long moment before he stepped back for us to see. Jokan and Harlan
exchanged glances and Harlan gripped the old man's shoulder in unspoken
gratitude. He later told me the costume had belonged to Gartly's beloved
wife.

I saw only the tissue-fragile fabric, deep greens and golds, the heavy
ornate jewels, the intricately strapped sandals and the voluminous folds
of the glossy emerald-green cloak.

'Why, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen,' I gasped, touching
the dress lightly as if it might fall to pieces.

Gartly grumbled something under his breath and then left the room with
quick steps.

I suppose our concentration on the plans to enter the palace and
Gartly's unexpected, touching offer had engrossed us. The sound of a
knock on the door, at any rate, came like the knell of terror. We all
whirled to the door as if it had become dangerous. Cire looked
expectantly at Harlan who motioned him to answer even as Harlan edged
quickly back to the kitchen.

'Who knocks?' asked Cire with scarcely a quiver in his young voice.

'Sinnall, Cire,' and before Cire could answer, the door swung open.

If Sinnall had waited but an instant more before entering, Harlan would
have reached the safety of the kitchen. As it was, he was directly in
Sinnall's vision and his hand dropped from the door to his knife belt.

'Is it really Harlan?' Sinnall gasped. He didn't wait for confirmation
but snapped to attention, saluting smartly. 'Second Leader Sinnall, sir,
reporting.'

I could feel the tension leave the room as if swept out by a brisk wind.
Cire, laughing nervously, threw an arm around the young officer.

'I appreciate the gesture, Second,' Harlan said with a grin, returning
the salute, 'even though I am no longer acting as Regent.' He beckoned
to Sinnall to join the group around the table.

'My father served with you in Quadrant Five, sir,' he remarked gravely,
coming forward. 'He was Nallis, First Prime.'

Harlan grinned. 'I recall it as being the other way round,' he remarked
and was rewarded by Sinnall's tentative smile.

'I can see now why there is an emergency at Lothar,' Sinnall said, and
held out to Harlan a tiny slate.

Harlan glanced at it, his eyebrows raising in surprise. With a burst of
relieved laughter, he passed it to Jokan.

'My luck is holding,' he practically crowed. 'Sinnall, as a loyal
officer in this sleepy uneventful little community, has been ordered to
bring a loyal picked section to Lothara on special duty.

'Why should that change plans?' Jessl asked, reaching for the slate from
Jokan.

'Because our orders are to report not later than noon tomorrow at
Central Barracks for assignment. I can think of no better place for
Harlan at the moment than right in the midst of the men trying to keep
him out of Lothara.'

'That'll get us all in,' Jokan said, grinning broadly.

'Anyone know of your orders?' asked Harlan.

'I only got them an hour ago,' Sinnall replied, 'and I wanted to press
Ore into section duty. I know he's loyal.'

'To you and Ferrill, that's what Sinnall means,' Cire interjected, his
face intense with pride in his friend.

'Yes, sir,' Sinnall replied earnestly. 'I know what happens to officers
who complain about the new Regent and the odd things that are happening.
That's why I'm here,' and he grimaced in such a way that I realized his
present post was a form of military exile.

'Well, your orders do specify a "loyal" section,' Harlan said with a
mirthless laugh, 'but they do not state to whom, do they?'

Sinnall, relaxing even more in Harlan's presence, began to grin broadly.

'No, sir. And if I can find uniforms to fit, I'm going to volunteer all
of you here as "loyal".'

'Room to stow my lady on the trip?' asked Harlan.

My relief that he had undoubtedly abandoned the original idea now that
Sinnall's presence indicated Harlan would, after all, be able to get
into Lothara, was short lived.

Sinnall considered me with surprise. 'Why, I think so.'

'I hope so. I don't wish to leave her behind,' Harlan remarked. 'And
Jokan, not you. You take yourself and your planecar and plan an accident
in the Jurassan Hills.

You've got to have a reason for returning to Lothara, completely
unconnected with me. Gartly, Ore, Jessl and I will be the section. You
wait for Sara at your place. Even if you are watched, Sara is unknown
and your philandering is legend.'

Jokan objected strenuously to being excluded but was finally convinced
he could not be in the section.

'Why don't I just take Sara with me now? I'd better use tonight to cover
my return and give me time for an accident. I could then take her on to
Lothara.'

Harlan shook his head. 'No, Sara stays with me.'

'Brother, I'm not about to…'

'She stays. I have my reasons,' he reasserted so firmly that Jokan
shrugged and pressed no further.

What remained of the day was spent in getting uniforms and making what
alterations we could to get a reasonable fit. Not even the largest issue
jacket accommodated Harlan's breadth of shoulder. The cuffs were halfway
up his arm and, even when I had let down the sleeve all I could, it hung
unmilitarily high above his big hand. Sinnall decided that regulation
issue would be too skimpy for Harlan's frame in any event and the
discrepancies would pass as back-country inefficiencies. The assorted
ages and sizes of the four men identified them as provincials. Gartly,
with darkened hair and a day's growth of beard, would not resemble the
correct old soldier.

Cire sprinkled a white powder in Harlan's dark hair and with the lack of
eyebrows (his, too, had been singed in the barrier crossing), an
unmilitary shamble and slouched shoulders, he looked amazingly unlike
himself. He even demonstrated the witless expression he could assume
whenever necessary.

Hunger and fatigue vied for first place in my attention by late evening
and, when someone remembered to get some dinner, I could barely eat for
weariness.

'Sara, you've barely rested,' Harlan said with concern. 'It's just as
well she doesn't have to be Searcher tomorrow. She'd fall asleep,' he
laughed gently.

'I still think it's a good plan,' Jessl grumbled.

'Sinnall's orders give us a better opportunity. I prefer to take my own
risks,' Harlan said to silence him. He helped me rise and escorted me up
the stairs. 'I'll be right back,' he assured Gartly and Jessl who looked
after us knowingly.

My face must have been burning when I got into the privacy of the room.
I heard Harlan closing the door, but all I could see was the big double
bed. All I really wanted was to sleep. And certainly if the boat was
neither time nor place, neither was this with those men downstairs. My
expression must have shown my thoughts, for Harlan took one look at my
face and chuckled.

He took off my robe and led me to the bed, tucking me in.

'Sleep, dear my lady, is what you need right now,' he said softly. 'And
I am relieved you do not need to go to the palace. That was too
dangerous. Too dangerous, though Jokan's reasoning was good. He does not
know, Sara. Sleep.'

I did.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER SIX
-----------

Contents - Prev / Next

Harlan woke me, gently shaking my shoulder. At first the sight of a
stranger in uniform bending over me was frightening until I recognized
Harlan through the powdered hair.

'Fool you?' he grinned.

'Scared me witless,' I grinned back, casting a glance at the dented
pillow beside me.

'Well?' he dared me, 'there are only three bedrooms here and I want it
plain how matters stand between us. Remember, dear my lady, on this
planet it is considered an honor to share the Regent's bed.'

'I don't want to be in Gorlot's bed,' I smirked at him wickedly.

'Neatly said,' he said respectfully, but still grinning. 'Now rise and
dress or I'll make something more of that,' and he indicated the bed.
'After all, Sara, we slept together like innocent babes for who knows
how long?'

Realizing myself topped, I gestured him out of the room. It took me a
little while to figure out the closures on the green gown. I heartily
wished for the simplicity of the zipper. Strange how easily I assumed in
a mental leap that Earth would be able to supply Lothar with zippers
when I could hardly understand the spatial distances between the two
planets. Paper would be a boon, too, I continued in my mental
perambulations, instead of the cumbersome Babylonique slates. I was just
picking up the cloak when Harlan knocked again. I opened the door to
him, the heavy jewelry clinking, tinkling with my movement. Harlan
looked at me with a wondering expression on his face. He stepped quickly
in the room, closing the door behind him.

'Didn't I put it on right?' I asked with a pang of doubt. 'I know it
took the longest time. I had to figure things out. Oh, for the lowly
zipper.'

Harlan began to smile, slowly.

'You are very different as the Searcher, dear my lady,' he said slowly.

Pleased with the sincerity of his admiration, I pivoted on my toes, only
to find myself locked in his arms, his face and eyes unbelievably stern.

'Are you still the girl who starved herself for me? The girl who sailed
me to safety? Or are you…'

'Harlan, we've a long trip,' Jessl yelled from below.

Harlan's tone had become almost savage, his arms around me tight and
cruel.

'I'm still Sara, no matter what I wear,' I whispered, startled.

'Sara… who?'

'Sara of Estril, Odern Cave, Jurasse,' I whispered, scared.

'We're coming,' Harlan roared, turning his head briefly toward the door.

I thought he would release me but, holding me more tightly still, he
bent his head and kissed me with rough and demanding lips. I seemed to
sink inside him, held up only by his arms, knowing only the reality of
his bruising mouth.

'HARLAN,' Jessl bellowed and we both heard his steps on the wooden
staircase.

'A map of how to get to Jokan's, from the Barracks' airfield,' Harlan
said hurriedly in a low voice, thrusting a tiny slate in my hand.
'Anyone else would know. It's not far.'

He opened the door just as Jessl reached it. It was now Jessl's turn to
stare at me.

'Well, well.' He looked nervously at Harlan. 'That's what kept you.'

With as much dignity as I could muster because I was still trembling, I
gave both men a haughty look and swept out of the room.

Gartly was sitting facing the stair as we descended and he sprang to his
feet, knocking the stool over. His face was completely expressionless.
At first, I thought he must be equally struck speechless by my
transformation. He turned without a word and left the house. I stared
after him, hurt.

'The costume was his wife's,' Harlan remarked gently. 'She, too, was
lovely.'

Young Sinnall appeared in the door and bowed low. As we left the house,
Ore came round the side of the house, and he too bowed.

'A lot better than stolen fishermen's clothes, hmmm?' I said.

'That is the truth,' Ore said, his eyes wide.

'Hey, where's my breakfast?' I demanded, stopping dead on the path
outside the front door.

'Here,' laughed Harlan, holding up a metal bottle and a small package,
cloth wrapped. 'I'll never let you starve again,' he remarked, cocking
an eyebrow at me.

'Will you two stop that and let's get off the ground?' Jessl snapped,
irritably. 'It's a three-hour trip from this cave-forsaken stretch of
soil.'

Laughing, I followed them down to the landing circle where the waiting
official planecar idled its rotors. Sinnall had rigged a seat of sorts
for me in the luggage area, apologizing profusely for the cramped
accommodations. Ore announced that he would take the uncomfortable seat
until such time as we encountered official traffic. Consequently I saw a
great deal of such landmarks as the immense pit quarries of South
Motlina, for Ore had been alone in Gartly's house near Astolla and had
taken us south, away from prying inquiries about the wrecked boat. I saw
the oil fields of Wingar and finally the city of Astolla itself and the
delta we had nearly landed on. Northward into the mountains of Lothar
the ship climbed.

I realized that Lothar had been lucky in several respects: a common
enemy to unite it early in its history and the geographical accident
which linked its two largest land masses from the north pole to the
sixty-sixth parallel. At this point the continents split and rapidly
separated east and west, leaving a green ocean between their land legs,
dotted with several large islands and driblets of isles in the southern
hemisphere. The eastern continent, over which we flew, was more
mountainous and larger, the western one, a vast rolling plain ringed
with bluffs and precipices, periodically penetrated by navigable rivers
and deep lagoons. The western sea was shallow, spiked with tiny islands,
deepening finally into a great crevasse of several thousand square miles
before the sprawling arm and exaggerated peninsular fist of the eastern
continent pouted seaward.

Used as I was to the ribbons of roads seen from the air on Earth, it
struck me that Lothar had leapt from primitive wheels to a form of jet
plane, thanks to the accommodating Mil. The only roads were foot trails,
since most transportation, even by the poorer farmers, was done by air.
Land was too valuable to be used up in wasteful roads when the whole sky
was open for travel. During the trip I was constantly amazed by the
gigantic craft that carried freight and almost fragile vehicles that
transported a single passenger: hummingbirds and vultures.

I missed, however, what I had hoped most to see: an airborne view of
Lothara. The excessive number of aircars above Lothara, official and
civil, flying at distressing proximity, necessitated my retreat behind
the curtain. Sinnall answered and satisfied several official summonses
before he made a turn into a pattern at the Central Barracks landing
field. Here again, we unexpectedly encountered another touch of the
fabulous streak of luck Harlan enjoyed.

The one unsettled detail was how I was to make my way from the Barracks
airstrip to the city without detection.

Sinnall had suggested that I remain hidden until nighttime, which meant
a long stretch of hours, waiting behind the hot cloth.

I had my directions tucked in the top of my dress and was startled when
our planecar was waved off an obviously overcrowded field and directed
to an auxilary civil field.

'As soon as there is no one around, you can just jump out,' Jessl
remarked to me through the curtain.

'Get an aircab to Place of Birds, Sara,' Harlan suggested and passed in
a small bag of coins.

I held it gingerly in my hand, acidly commenting to myself that it did
me a great deal of good. I had absolutely no idea which coin of this
realm meant how much. Just another little oversight. I would be so glad
to get to Jokan's. I presumed there would be food in his larder, and I
was hungry again. Once on the field, it seemed we took forever parking
and three times Sinnall gave someone orders to read and I heard each
member of the unofficial section grumble out his name and a batch of
numbers. Harlan, I remember, gave the name of Landar, in a stupidly
high-pitched voice that almost got me giggling.

Finally, I heard Sinnall give the order to debark.

Harlan thrust his head back of the curtains.

'Gold coins are worth more, the larger the better. Silver, the larger,
are alloy-mixed and worth less. Take care, dear my lady,' he whispered
and cupping my head with one large hand, kissed me on the lips with
sweet speed. I heard him deliberately bumbling out of the planecar and
then the retreating cadence calls.

I slipped into the front of the ship and looked cautiously over the
windowsills. There was much coming and going on the field and many women
among the men. Reassured I climbed out of the planecar. It was easy to
guess which way was the entrance by following the direction of the crowd
of brightly costumed Eclipsers. I strode forward confidently.

'Are you claimed, lady?' a male voice asked in my ear and whirling,
startled, I saw a medium-tall man smiling hopefully at me.

'Yes, I most certainly am,' I said and turning, left him standing there.

Two more offers by not as promising companions made me hover close to a
large party of mixed revelers until I reached the gates. The women were
allowed to pass quickly, but each man was forced to show identification
and every tall man was drawn aside. The hunt was on for someone
answering Harlan's description.

The novelty of being accosted by admiring males wore off before I got to
the next busy street. There were plenty of planecars, but they were all
aloft and I had no idea how one signaled them. I suppose I should have
asked someone, but I had been so long away from people, all sorts and
sizes of people, that faces and forms were entertaining to me. Not so
entertaining were shadowy figures at the edge of the masses of revelers:
blowsy drunken creatures, beggars with hideous purple scars, whining
their pleas. The section bordering the airfield was obviously poor and I
followed the flow of the crowd towards the center of the city. Gradually
the poor buildings gave way to pleasanter areas of spiraling walks,
connecting fluted colonnaded buildings in muted colors. Guards were
stationed at crossroads and they constantly stopped the taller male
figures in any group. I smiled to myself at the secret joke that Harlan
had entered in an official car and been welcomed royally.

I came, finally, into the Great Bazaar, an enormous square with a
central park, comprised of successively larger squares of shops, one
outside the other, like the top view of a child's nest of blocks. Only
the stores were staggered so that, through the separating alleys, one
caught enticing glimpses of other treasures. I wandered through the
crowds, wide-eyed at the fascinating stores, trying to imagine the
purpose of this or that; trying on in my mind the gorgeous dresses. I
decided that the jewels I wore were better than many on display and my
dress more becoming.

Thirsty, I stopped at a beverage stand of which there were many, some of
the air of permanence, some obviously holiday-rigged.

When the counterman looked expectantly for my order, I realized I
couldn't ask for lemonade or Coke. For a moment I could only stare at
him idiotically.

Suddenly, hands covered my eyes. Frantic, I grabbed at them.

'Guess who?' an eager young voice whispered in my ear.

Thinking it was only an Eclipse game, I relaxed.

I'm not good at guessing-games,' I replied finally.

The hands dropped as if my skin had burned them.

'I beg, I beg your pardon, lady,' a stammering voice apologized.

I turned and looked up a long expanse of white overshirt before I came
to the boyish face. There was a shocked surprise in his eyes and an
appeal for understanding the boy did not expect to find. He was about
sixteen, I guessed, and his frame had shot up before he could accumulate
the flesh to cover it. It gave him an angular awkwardness; a
bag-of-bones appearance to his clothes and an obvious inferiority. His
gray eyes regarded me with an unspoken plea not to scorn him. He
reminded me so of my brother, Seth… and someone else I couldn't
place… but he did remind me of Seth at his gawky stage. It was this
quality, this puppyish wistfulness that caught my sympathy.

'I mistook you, Lady Searcher. Really I did and I was so pleased the
Lady Fara… I mean…' and he trailed off aimlessly.

Quickly I put my hand on his arm to reassure him, for he seemed about to
take off into the crowd.

'No harm done. This is Eclipse, isn't it? And, truly, I am flattered to
be mistaken for the Lady Fara.'

A brief eagerness flared in his eyes and he looked as if he were about
to smile, but his face turned unnaturally mature.

'Please, buy me a drink and think no more of it,' I said quickly.
'Something… light,' I added, indicating two drunken carousers with
distaste.

The smile flickered again and was replaced with a guarded expression.

'Two cornades,' he said to the counterman, tossing a coin to the fellow.

`Thank you, lord, have a safe Eclipse.'

The young boy handed me my drink with the polished grace of a courtier,
totally out of character for his age.

It was a fruit concoction, tart and cold, and just what I had my mouth
set for. We stood at one side of the crowded stand, saying nothing
because I could think of nothing to say.

At the opposite end of this bazaar mall, there was a sudden commotion,
indistinguishable shouts, a startled milling of people and then a trio
pushed into view. They were not very sober but not drunk enough to
extenuate their obstreperous actions. The first man, a rough enormous
fellow, charged with the ferocity of an angry gorilla, his arms pushing
way past those who did not move aside quickly enough. He looked from
right to left, head thrust forward, bellowing at the top of his voice.

'Maxil, where is that little runt? Maxil, come here or I'll break you.
Maxil? Maxil!' His two companions followed, likewise yelling for the
missing Maxil, stopping people and demanding to know where this Maxil
was.

I turned to my young man and found him missing from my side, just as the
gorilla charged up to the stand, beckoning violently to the counterman.

'He was with the lady a moment ago,' the man volunteered, not looking at
me, but obviously frightened.

The lout turned on me, his liquor-heavy breath offensive, his sweating
body odorous. He put his hands on my shoulders and started to shake me.

'Get your filthy hands off me, you stupid bully,' I said, seething with
anger at this insult. 'I said, get your filthy hands off me,' I repeated
distinctly in the quiet that had fallen on the mall. There is some
quality to righteous anger that has great strength in compelling
obedience. He did remove his hands, swaying in front of me, while his
thick drunken senses took in the import of what I had said.

'Who do you think you are?' the drunk asked.

'Maxil thought she was the Lady Fara,' the counterman said timidly. I
shot him a look I hoped would silence him completely.

'Fara? Fara here,' the sot said, blinking at me, trying to see me
clearly. 'C'mere, Lort,' he beckoned his two cronies. 'Is this Fara?'

The other two peered at me, hemming me in against the counter.

'Never seen her,' the one not named said. His breath was vile.

'Can't see anything here,' Lort complained.

'He,' and the drunk's finger jerked at the counterman,'said she was with
Maxil. Everyone knows Maxil's sweet on Fara. Not that it'll do her any
good.' He cackled at his own wit.

Before I realized what would happen, the gorilla had thrown his cloak
over my head and I was hoisted to his shoulders. I kicked, I scratched,
I screamed, and then someone hit me on the head.

When I came to my senses, it took me a few minutes to recall what had
last happened. My head ached and my jaw and my arms felt sticky. I think
it was a concern for the beautiful dress Gartly had lent me that stung
me into full consciousness.

I was sprawled on a large bed in an elegantly furnished but
barren-looking room. Somewhere beyond the windows a great deal of
shouting, screaming, laughing and singing was going on. I rose,
carefully because of my headache, and walked to the window. Below me lay
beautiful gardens, fairylands of casually riotous blooms, spilling onto
the winding paths, nudging against a variety of unusual trees, enhancing
stonework and sculpture. Beyond the delicate metal filigree I could see
the throngs of revelers and another wing of the building.

It took very little intelligence for me to assume I was in the palace
itself.

'In Gorlot's room?' I asked myself feeling very droll and wondering what
I did now.

Yesterday everything had seemed very simple. This morning the plan had
been foolproof. I sighed and felt like crying, but that would hurt my
head more.

I did seek out the bathroom and washed my face and arms. I also dabbed
at the stains I found on my lovely robes. When I heard a commotion
outside, I hesitated briefly, wondering if a locked bathroom might not
be preferable to what I would find in the room. I recognized one raucous
laugh as belonging to the drunken gorilla and that decided me not to
play the coward.

He was there, all right, propelling my young friend of the beverage
stand into the room, roaring with vulgar laughter. I picked up a
hairbrush I saw on the dressing table, hefting the handle, glad it was
metal.

'You drunken Milrouser, how dare you,' I cried, and both turned toward
me.

The ghastly sick look on the boy's face enraged me as did his
incredulous expression when he saw me tearing into the gorilla.

'How dare you kidnap me? This may be Eclipse, but there are limits to
what is done. Get out of here, get out of here and leave us alone.'

I am absolutely positive I was never so mad before in my life. Not even
the time the Travis boys tried their dirty tricks on an innocent
twelve-year-old Sara in their father's old barn. He had taken care of
them with a razor strop and I took care of this oaf with a metal
hairbrush.

If he had been sober, I should never have succeeded, but he and his two
cohorts were definitely drink-fuddled and their reactions, for they did
swing out to hit me, too slow for me. They howled when the metal brush
contacted their arms and faces, and they backed out of the bedroom. I
didn't have to chase them across the living room. I stood in the bedroom
doorway and threw whatever came to hand. As soon as they had exited into
the hall beyond, I raced over to the outside door and slammed it shut,
swinging a heavy bolt in place.

The boy, Maxil, for I was sure it was he, stood, open-mouthed with
admiration, looking at me.

I mastered the trembling in my body, got back my breath and grabbed an
applelike fruit from a bowl on the table by the door.

'Who was that?' I asked the boy who had started to come over to me, his
eyes still shining with his respect.

He stopped at my question and pointed inanely at the door. 'You didn't
know that was Samoth?'

'Samoth? No, why should I? I've never had the misfortune to meet him
before.' I took a huge bit out of the applefruit. It occurred to me that
I would probably never not be hungry again. Most of my waking time for
the last few days had been consumed by eating something.

'Wait'll I get that counterman,' I continued wrath-fully. 'Just wait.
D'you realize he tattled on you to that oaf?'

'I guessed he'd have to,' Maxil said softly, sadly, looking down at his
feet.

'Why?' I asked angrily. 'Is everyone in this city scared of a trio of
drunken bullies?'

Maxil found his ornate sandal very interesting.

'They have reason to be. You must come from out of the city,' he added,
looking up at me quickly and then away.

'Jurasse,' I replied. 'They thought I was the Lady Fara.'

He looked up guiltily, flushing. 'The counterman overheard us, I guess.
I'm awfully sorry. It was my mistaking you for the Lady Fara that got
you into all this trouble and now you'll…' his chin quivered and he
turned away abruptly, striding to the window, his whole figure sunk with
dejection.

'Now I'll what?' I urged, trying to keep my impatience out of my voice.

'I can't say it. But it is just horrible you've been dragged here like
this. Samoth and the others'll be back and they'll… they'll…'he
turned toward me again, his face blotched with an effort to keep back
tears.

'They'll what, Maxil?' I said, going to him in my distress at his
conflict.

'They'll say… I'm… impotent,' and with that final dragged-out word
he turned back to the windows, a pathetic young man.

'Well, of all the despicable, nasty-minded, indecent, incredible
things,' I said, beginning softly and ending with full vent to my
indignation.

The echo of another scene came faintly to my ears and I recalled how I
had helplessly overheard my four older brothers taunting Seth because he
had been unable to 'make it' with one of the town tarts. Even at
fourteen I had known how cruel and inhibiting such taunting was. I had
been completely unable to help Seth, but in his name I could try and
help this boy.

I took Maxil by the hand and pulled him over the low couch.

'Well, are you?' I asked him point-blank.

He flushed. 'Well, I have,' he said tentatively. 'But not when they're
around.'

'I should hope not. There are some things in this world that should be
done at the proper time and place, in privacy.' And then I, too, was
blushing furiously. All I could think of was my unfortunate borrowing of
one of Marian's phrases and the circumstances under which he had said
it.

'Aw, now don't say you haven't heard what they're saying about me?'
Maxil said, his face still not quite resigned to tears. 'Gorlot's got it
all planned. As soon as he kills Ferrill off, he'll have me denounced as
unmanly and put that fat-assed gut-stuffer Fernan in as Warlord-elect.'

'Rills Ferrill?' I gasped.

'He's so sick and it's not his constitution. The Harlan clan is not
weakening,' Maxil exclaimed with pathetic emphasis.

'No, it's not Ferrill's constitution. He's been drugged.'

"That's what I've been trying to…' Maxil gasped and turned to look at
me with startled eyes, 'how did you know?'

'I know. And further, they drugged Harlan, too.'

Maxil stared at me. He looked at the bolted door. Nervously, he got up
and went to the living-room balcony, opening the door and looking out
suspiciously, before coming back to sit beside me again.

'I told myself that must have been what happened,' he said in a hoarse
whisper. 'Are you sure it's true?'

'I'm positive. And furthermore,' I continued, 'he's no longer drugged.
He's free and he's in this city.'

Maxil stared at me as if he thought I had gone mad or he wasn't hearing
properly. He blinked rapidly at me, swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing
just like Seth's did when he was nervous.

'If you're just saying this,' he growled in a tight, angry voice, 'if
you're just saying this… to… to… I can still use my authority
to…'

I put my hand on his arm, catching his eyes and holding his attention.

'Maxil, I'm telling you the truth.'

Gradually his face changed as he realized I meant what I said. Hope,
concern and then despair crossed his face. Groaning, he turned from me,
again lost in apathy.

'It's too late,' he said sadly. 'It's just too late. And besides,' he
turned back to me again, his eyes sparkling with anger and a sternness
incongruous with his youth, 'you shouldn't go around saying that where
just anyone could hear you.' He gestured wildly, at the balcony, and the
bedroom and the hall door, as if overgrown ears would come leaping out
of the stonework to us.

'I'm saying it to you.'

'How do you know Gorlot doesn't have me under control?' he argued
violently.

I found myself speaking softer and softer in an unconscious effort to
tone him down.

'Well, I doubt he does if he makes such degrading assertions about you.
Besides, Jokan said you were terribly worried about Ferrill. You said
you hated Samoth. Well, if Harlan gets the Regency back, you get rid of
Samoth. All I've got to do is to get to Ferrill and tell him what's
happened and have him convene the Council.'

Maxil regarded me as if I had lost my senses.

'That's all you have to do. Get to Ferrill and tell him to convene the
Council,' he repeated as if reasoning with an idiot. 'That's all!' Again
the broad dramatic gestures.

'I'm in the palace, aren't I? Ferrill lives here, doesn't he?'

It had occurred to me, suddenly, and I felt rather dense it took me so
long to wake up to the opportunity, that I was in the palace and I might
just as well put into effect Plan A.

'And Ferrill will have to appear in the Starhall tonight if he can
walk,' I rattled on. 'And I presume you can get into the Starhall?'

'Yes,' Maxil agreed, paying strict attention to me now. 'Yes, I can, and
he has to appear.' He stopped, dazed, and then his face lit up, his
shoulders straightened and his chin jerked forward. The frightened,
humiliated boy disappeared and the young man stood in his place.

'Do you realize what you've said?' Maxil asked me. 'Do you realize?'

'I gather you're relieved,' I said drolly.

'Relieved, relieved, RELIEVED!' he chorused dramatically. 'I feel alive
for the first time in twelve months. Nearly a whole year!' he assured
me, hooking his fingers in his belt and striding up and down the floor.

'In that case, is there any way you can get me some dinner?' I asked as
my stomach impolitely made noises.

'Dinner? Certainly. Certainly,' he said expansively. He went to the
door, shot the bolt free, and swung the door open. 'Guard,' he said with
a swagger in his voice, 'I want dinner for two in my rooms.'

I got a glimpse of the startled face of the guard who saluted sloppily
just as Maxil swung the door closed again.

'I'd bolt the door again, if I were you. I'm not sure I want to tangle
with Samoth when he's cold sober,' I remarked.

Maxil was not so overconfident as to forget his conditioned response to
Samoth in a half-hour's time. Indecision showed in his face.

'Look, my friend,' I said seriously, 'I'm glad the news of Harlan
relieves you, but let's not overdo it until we can get word to Ferrill
and start things rolling to get Gorlot and Samoth out of power.'

'Oh,' Maxil said breezily, 'Samoth was dead drunk. He'll go annoy some
of the ladies before he comes back here. And then he'll come in with a
whole bunch of his clan and tease me. But he won't be back till he's
sober. And by that time, we'll be gone!' Maxil's eyes flashed with
determination. Then he pivoted towards me again.

'Just where is Harlan?'

'To tell the honest truth, I don't know. And maybe I'd better not tell
you any more than I already have.'

'But…' Maxil urged, not to be denied reassurance, '… how did you
know he was drugged? I mean, how did you get him… out…'

The timid knock at the door interrupted him. He looked at me, eyes
scared.

'Dinner,' I whispered to him and then, with sudden inspriation, nestled
against his side, twining one of his long arms around my shoulders.

'Come,' Maxil said, his voice not quite breaking, his arm crushing my
shoulders as he awkwardly returned my embrace.

I must say he made a convincing show of someone inconveniently
interrupted. A single man entered, a mousy fellow, clad in a green
apron. He bowed nervously.

'What did you wish for dinner, Lord Maxil?'

'Storner, I want a nice dinner. What had you in mind, Lady…' and he
stopped, realizing he didn't know my name.

'My name is Sara, darling,' I said, pouting plaintively. 'Had you
forgotten, after…' and I trailed off. I thought Maxil would explode
with laughter. Fortunately his face was turned from the waiter. 'And I'm
famished. All I want is food.'

'Two of the best… whatever you're serving Gorlot,' and Maxil spat the
name out. From the expression on Storner's face, he had missed nothing I
intended to imply. Nor Maxil's contempt of the Regent pro-tern. Whatever
the waiter's opinion, he kept his face blank as he bowed out, promising
dinner in a very few minutes.

'Say,' Maxil breathed, his eyes wide with admiration. 'Did you know what
you were doing?'

I grinned at him, bouncing up off the sofa.

'I hope it's all over the palace, real soon,' I grinned.

'Gee, you're wonderful,' Maxil said sincerely. 'I wish I… I mean,
you've… just…' he was trying to get something out.

'The Lady Fara?' I asked delicately and was answered by his blush. 'Oh,
she's your girl.'

'She's my dear lady,' Maxil stated firmly. 'At least,' he added,'she
would be. Stannall wouldn't object, I know. But Godot's not convened
Council on the flimsy excuse that the Tane crisis takes all his time and
it is a time for the Warlord, not the Peace Councils.'

The subject agitated Maxil and he began his restless pacing up and down.
The resemblance struck me and I realized he was much like a bad copy, a
smaller-scale Harlan, unfinished, unmolded, untempered. But the
resemblance to his uncle was there.

'The Lady Fara is Stannall's daughter?'

'Everyone knows that,' he countered, looking at me.

'I don't. But then, I'm a little country girl,' I added hastily.

'Well, you certainly don't look like it,' Maxil said with unexpected
sophistication. 'As a matter of fact you do look like my Lady Fara.' He
had his uncle's disconcerting way with the possessive pronoun, 'Same
height. Same coloring. And we'd planned to be priest,' he fingered his
white robes, 'and Searcher this Eclipse. That is, before Harlan had his
so-called collapse. Oh, she'd've had to wait, but we had an
understanding,' he ended with stubborn insistence.

'Won't Stannall be here tonight? I mean, as Councilman.'

Maxil shrugged. 'I don't know. He might be. When I saw you in the
bazaar, and thought for just one split second you might really be my
Lady Fara…' and he left the sentence hanging. 'But I'm glad it was you
after all,' he said with a very engaging grin.

In spite of all the cruelty he had been subjected to, in spite of
worrying, Maxil was a thoroughly nice youngster.

'There's not a damn thing wrong with the Harlan clan,' I remarked
succinctly and then smiled for fear Maxil might take me wrong.

Another knock at the door ushered in our dinner, a welcome diversion for
several reasons.

'Storner,' Maxil said imperiously after our table had been placed before
us and the waiter made ready to withdraw, 'when is the Warlord, my
brother, due at the Starhall?'

'The rumor is he will not come,' Storner said with a blank face.

'I'm not interested in the rumor,' Maxil snapped. 'What has his
physician said?' Maxil's tone showed his opinion of that gentleman.

'By the tenth hour, my Lord Maxil,' Storner replied in so colorless a
voice it was insolent.

'Oh, marvelous. I promised to get a token from Ferrill,' I giggled. 'To
protect me from a priest I know,' I said, coyly walking my fingers up
Maxil's arm.

Maxil waved Storner out of the room and we continued to make stupid
faces at each other until we heard the door close. Maxil covered his
mouth to smother his laughter, doubling up with boyish glee.

I waited a moment, then the smell of the dinner, steaming in its metal
dishes, overcame my manners.

'Laugh all you want. I'm hungry,' I announced and started to heap my
plate with food.

'I've never seen a woman eat so much in my life. You pregnant?' he asked
suspiciously.

'What a thing to ask!' I exclaimed, nearly choking.

'Aren't you claimed?'

There was that word again. 'Not exactly,' I said loftily. 'I've an
understanding, though.'

'Oh,' he grunted, mollified.

My sanitarium diet had not prepared me for such gourmandizing as this
and I ate steadily while Maxil talked. He talked as if it were going out
of style. I realized what terrible tensions he must have been under. As
well as the dramatic enthusiasms and passionate opinions of adolescence
that not even Samoth's tender attentions had completely subdued, Maxil
had a keen insight. His humor, often with a bitter edge to it, was wry
and delightful. As long as I could keep eating, I would be able to let
him carry the burden of conversation. I was distressingly aware of my
all too limited acquaintance with the general framework of life on
Lothar. Its everyday banalities, like Joe Dimaggio, hot dogs, Fourth of
July and hammer murders, were beyond my comprehension.

I gathered that the 'bandsmen' were not orchestra players but groups of
hijackers, burglars or highwaymen, terrorizing unpatrolled regions,
resorting to senseless outrages of destruction in property and human
life. I had to deduce that such crimes, common enough on earth, had been
completely unheard of on Lothar. A step more brings the conclusion that
the lawless element usually stayed in the Patrol where it had an outlet
for its energies. The decreased need for active patrollers had left too
many potential criminals idle. But I was surprised that Maxil had the
same conclusion to make.

I learned that insanity, also a rarity on Lothar, was plotting a
dreadful, steep upward curve of incidence in medical science. There was
no Freud, no Jung, not even a good common-sense minister to instruct or
analyse. There was no organised religion of any kind on Lothar. There
was only the centuries old dedication to the absolute destruction of the
Mil. This was not enough for the younger generations of Lotharians who
had had little direct contact with this ageless menace. They wanted
considerably more out of life than freedom from fear and the stringent
safeguards evolved by ancestors buried hundreds of years ago.

Perhaps, I thought, Harlan was wrong about not seeking out the Mil now.
Certainly that would absorb the restless elements. Once Lothar had laid
the scourge to rest, she could progress more normally. Normally? Was my
Earth any more normal with its constant, useless international
bickerings? At least Lothar had a mighty purpose and pursued it
relentlessly, valorously.

As we finished the sweet fruit of our final course, I made a
particularly noticeable blunder.

'Sometimes you act as if you didn't know what I was talking about,'
Maxil commented, frowning. 'And you've got the oddest way of talking.
Where do you come from?'

'Jurasse. My mother was from South Cant. I guess that's why I have an
odd way of speaking. Mother always said Jurassans murder… [I was about
to say the King's English]… human speech.'

'They certainly do,' Maxil agreed, pushing back the table. He belched
without apologizing and I wondered if this were customary or adolescent.
I cleared my throat instead.

We had grown accustomed to the noisy crowds outside the gardens. Now
suddenly a roar of angry voices drew our attention to the windows. Maxil
strode over, beckoning me.

'Another protest on the Tane wars,' he remarked, pointing out banners
being dipped and glided above the heads of the crowd.

'Damn the Tane wars,' Maxil growled. 'That's all anyone talks of.'

'It masks some other purpose,' I said, remembering Harlan's fears.

'I'll just bet it does. And you know why that war's a farce?' Maxil
demanded. 'Because Gorlot's men command the patrol now. Men,' he
sneered, 'like Samoth. All, even the emergency session of Council Gorlot
calls, they're all his men. He hasn't missed a trick. Not one.'

'Yes,' I contradicted him, 'one. Harlan's escape.'

'That doesn't do any good unless Harlan can appear sane before the
Council and prove it. And I'll bet Gorlot can think of a way to prove
Harlan is as mad as ever.'

'I doubt it. Because Harlan never was mad.'

'I know it. You know it,' he said gloomily.

'Sitting here won't do any good. Seeing Ferrill will. Let's go. It must
be near time now,' I said, standing up. Maxil's depression was
contagious.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER SEVEN
-------------

Contents - Prev / Next

The Starhall was the final beauty in the flawlessness of the palace
wheel. The vast dome-ceilinged room accommodated the throngs of people
without seeming in the least crowded, without being noisy. The
constellations that shone from the darkened ceiling changed perceptibly
as the planet itself turned round its primary. The mocking lights
glittered on hundreds of maskers who danced, drank and sported in the
gigantic room. I had never seen such a magnificent crowd, nor felt so
dwarfed by a walled structure. Maxil and I paused, by mutual consent, in
one of the five soaring archways that gave on to the Hall proper,
watching the fantastic revelry.

'Where's Ferrill?' I asked.

Maxil shrugged. 'It's not yet tenth hour. He may not come in until the
Eclipse.' He pointed to the ceiling where facsimiles of the two
satellites closed the gap that separated them and their rendezvous with
their sun. 'It's a frightfully noisy night for him. Not like other
times. Oh, we had lots of guests but…" His inference was directed at
quality not quantity. 'See that blonde girl over there by the second
archway. The one in the purple overdress? That's my sister, Kalina.' He
grimaced with distaste. 'She's drunk and she's got enough face paint on
for a Clan Mother. And the other blonde, the one on the couch under
Ifeaus (a constellation, I later learned), that's Cherez. She's only
thirteen. It's bad enough for Kalina to be here acting that way. She's
already claimed. But for Cherez!'

A servant approached with a tray and paused in front of us. Maxil peered
into the ornate metal goblets, snorted and waved the man away.

'Gorlot's serving delinade,' he gritted out.

'What's that?' I asked without thinking.

'An aphrodisiac. Don't you know anything?'

I was spared the necessity of replying by the change of expression that
came over Maxil. It was a combination of fear, hatred, disgust and
expectation.

'Where's Samoth?' a cold voice said behind my back and I didn't need to
wait until I was roughly turned toward the speaker to know it was
Gorlot.

'You aren't the Lady Fara,' Gorlot said, staring at me.

'Samoth got drunk,' Maxil said quickly, taking my arm and trying to move
away.

'You are not to leave your tutor. Especially not to pick up prostitutes.
As if they would do you any good,' Gorlot snapped. 'Go find him.'

'He's supposed to nursemaid me, not me him,' Maxil replied with a show
of more spirit than Gorlot evidently expected from him.

'I see,' he drawled enigmatically and flicked a hand at the guard behind
us. 'Take this trollop out.'

'Immediately,' a feminine voice seconded beyond Gorlot. A woman,
elegantly dressed in a yellow Searcher's costume joined the temporary
Regent. 'I gave explicit orders that I was to be the only Searcher
here,' she said vindictively. Her eyes narrowed suddenly as she noticed
the flash of my jewels in the starlight. She peered more closely at the
fabric and cut of my gown. Its rich green made her costume too glaring a
yellow by contrast. 'Who is she?'

'Lady Sara, the Lady Maritha, and, of course, the Lord Regent Gorlot,'
Maxil said with cold politeness.

'Lady Sara, indeed,' Maritha sneered and snapping her fingers at a
passing traybearer, took an unladylike gulp of a fresh goblet.

'Lady Sara, indeed,' I replied calmly, bowing as graciously as I could,
to make her rudeness more apparent. My palms were sweating.

A gleam flickered in Gorlot's eyes as he noticed the exchange. He looked
from Maritha's studied blonde beauty to me.

'The blonde Searcher and the brunette. An interesting contrast. The
Searcher has always been my favorite mask, particularly so when I
complement it,' Gorlot drawled, indicating his white priest's robes.

'You make a truly authentic priest,' I murmured, not meaning flattery
but smiling up at him from under demurely downcast eyes.

'Get her out of here,' Maritha snapped to the guard, her eyes flashing
angrily. 'Impertinent wretch,' and she tossed off the rest of her drink.

Gorlot, to my surprise, canceled that order with a flick of his hand.

'We cannot be so ungracious to Maxil's Searcher,' he said as Maritha
glared first at me, then at him. She had sense enough to be quiet.
'However, every Searcher knows the priest who will claim her, doesn't
she?' and his cold eyes flicked once more up and down my body.

Gartly's apparently prophetic words rang in my ears: 'It isn't in
Gorlot's room we want her.'

I took Maxil's arm, more for support against my nervousness, and pulled
him forward, away from Gorlot. The backward glance I shot him he could
interpret any way he chose. I merely wanted to be sure he wasn't
following me.

I was not the only one shaken by the encounter. Maxil's arm trembled
beneath my hand. He kept his back straight and his step measured as we
walked into the dancers. And there was more pride and confidence in his
bearing than there had been since I met him.

The dancers and revelers parted around us to catch us up in their
whirling numbers. A fear, deeper, more intense than the momentary shock
of the episode with Gorlot, engulfed me in choking terror. The pressing
bodies suddenly seemed to compress me in on myself. The various limbs
that brushed against mine felt wet or cold and I grabbed at Maxil with
both hands. He took one look at my face and brushed rudely past the
maskers to get me on the safe, uncrowded sidelines.

I stammered my thanks, unable to explain my ghastly claustrophobia,
clutching at Maxil as the only reality in the whole huge room.

He urged me to a brightly decorated buffet table where tall crystal
columns sparkled with liquids. Culinary masterpieces were decorated to
slide down palates dulled by drink. Maxil indicated an almost full
dispenser of cornade. We were served by a haughty man who gave the
impression of losing dignity by presenting so mild a brew. I gulped down
the tart beverage and its cold sweetness reassured me out of my sudden
nightmare. I was recovering enough of my senses to see the surprise on
the servant's face as he was required to serve another goblet of
cornade.

'Greetings, Maxil,' said a voice whose cheeriness was another touch with
reality.

Maxil's face lit up first, then flushed. I turned, hopeful of seeing
Ferrill but barely able to cover my dismay when Maxil grabbed the arm of
a well-groomed, wise-faced older man.

'Stannall,' he cried eagerly.

'Rather to the discomfiture of the Lady Maritha,' Stannall observed.

'The Lady Sara, is it not? I noticed you passing inspection at the
door,' and the First Councilman bowed deeply, his shrewd eyes not
leaving my face. 'Do I congratulate, Maxil?' he asked.

'No, no,' Maxil said hastily. 'Isn't my Lady Fara here?'

'Your Lady Fara?' Stannall repeated, lightly questioning the possessive
pronoun. 'No, Fara is not here,' Stannall continued before Maxil had a
chance to say anything. Stannall turned a disapproving face towards the
shrieking revelry beyond us.

'I mean, is she in Lothara at all?' Maxil persisted hopefully.

'Yes,' Stannall said, unbending enough to reassure the boy.

'I'm just filling in for the evening,' I felt constrained to say when I
caught Stannall's austere expression.

'Gorlot called Sara a trollop,' Maxil exploded.

Stannall held up a quieting hand. 'Evidently the… ah… Lady Maritha
did, too. She chooses to forget she no longer wheedles Harlan but
placates Gorlot.'

Maxil and I exchanged glances. I couldn't decide whether to say any more
to Stannall or not.

'Have you seen my brother… Ferrill, Sir Stannall?' Maxil asked
anxiously.

Stannall dropped his pose of urbanity and became deeply troubled.

'I have, indeed, and…'

'Where is he?' Maxil interrupted breathlessly.

Stannall ignored the discourtesy and nodded toward a far doorway where
two figures stood watching the revelry. I could not see distinctly, but
I thought I recognized the taller figure as Ferrill by his stance. Maxil
was about to make a straight-line plunge through the dancers for his
brother, but I twitched his robe and held him back. Actually, my thought
was not caution but a return of the tongue-drying fear that had struck
me when we had first gone into that weaving mob. We watched as Ferrill,
slowly, almost as if movement were effort, stepped down into the crowd
and was swallowed up.

'I can wait for my token,' I said with forced gaiety, turning to
Stannall. 'I need one from the Warlord against a priest I don't like.'

'There is no known token for one priest I can name,' Stannall remarked
calmly, adding in a lower voice that Maxil didn't hear, 'unless, of
course, that is your purpose in being here.'

I smiled at him. 'Sir, it was at this priest's instigation I came and
believe me, I have no intention of leaving his side this evening.'

Stannall bowed and excused himself. I watched him disappear among the
dancers and wondered, fleetingly, if I should have mentioned Harlan to
him. Still, wasn't he powerless until Council was convened? Surely, any
attempt of Harlan's to communicate with the First Councilman would be
intercepted. Yet - I had been in the position to speak.

And how was Harlan even to get into the palace at all? Where was he now?
Did he know I wasn't at Jokan's?

Maxil touched my arm and led me with a secure grip around the fringe of
the revelers, making toward the archway where Ferrill had been. We had
circled halfway round the room without a sight of him when he stepped
out of the crowd right in front of me.

I was appalled at the change the last few weeks had made in him. The
effort I had noticed across the enormous room was tragically obvious
close up. His face was very pale, the skin almost transparent. His
breath came unevenly, his eyes had sunk into his head, the sockets
darkened with pain and sleeplessness. His voice, no longer vibrant, as
it had been at the asylum, shook nearly as much as his hands. Maxil put
out a quick arm to support Ferrill as the aging young Warlord mounted
two steps and joined us.

'I have been racking my poor brains, dear Searcher,' Ferrill remarked in
a wheezy, rasping voice that somehow managed to retain a certain
forcefulness, 'to remember where I have seen you before. Not here,
certainly.'

'Your memory is better than Gorlot's,' I replied as casually as I could,
for tension again clutched at me. 'But I have bettered my condition in
the past few weeks.'

Ferrill held up his hand as he searched his memory, Maxil anxiously
watching us and the crowd simultaneously.

'It was in the company of Harlan,' and I saw the frail shoulders
straighten as if the very name of his uncle was a tonic. He said
nothing. 'I left his company this noontime at the auxiliary airfield,' I
continued, beginning to share Maxil's anxiety over Ferrill. 'He wants
you to convene the Council. He is sane. He never was mad. He was drugged
just as I imagine they have been drugging you. Give me a token,
anything, to explain my speaking to you. And have courage.'

Ferrill's breathing became more shallow. He swallowed several times, all
the while maintaining a politely attentive smile on his face. With a
controlled gesture, he took a dangling medallion from his belt. I
accepted it with a little curtsey.

'He may be too late,' Ferrill wheezed, 'even for Lothar.' He descended
three steps, touched Maxil's hand affectionately and moved off into the
crowd.

'Gorlot saw us,' Maxil said, swiftly, the hangdog expression returning
to his face.

To cover my own fear, I smiled inanely and laughed as if Maxil had
amused me. I searched the crowd frantically for sight of Stannall, for a
doorway with the fewest guards, for some reprieve from the man
implacably bearing down on us. Maxil whirled me away among a sudden knot
of drunken prancers, back toward the beverage table where we had last
seen Stannall. The fear of Gorlot met my claustrophobia in a brief
struggle for supremacy and the fear of Gorlot won.

But Gorlot never reached us because a shriek of horror pierced the noise
and music. Shouts of 'The Warlord… He fell' followed. The entire vast
hall was silent for a horrified minute. Then Gorlot's voice called cold
orders for Trenor, for a stretcher.

We watched, clutching at each other for comfort at this catastrophe as
the limp body of Ferrill was carried away.

'I've got to get out of here now, Maxil,' I cried. But as we turned to
look, all the doorways were being blocked by guards with weapons held at
the ready.

'Stannall then,' I hissed. Maxil craned over the heads around us and
then pulled me roughly after him.

The First Councilman had been about to leave the hall when Maxil
urgently tugged at his arm, insisting on a private word. Stannall
frowned as Maxil indicated me.

'I've no time to undo your coquetry, miss,' he said severely, drawing
away.

'Would you class news of Harlan as coquetry?' I stated.

Stannall turned slowly back. 'What's this? Explain!'

'Harlan was never mad. He's back in Lothara tonight to prove it. At
Central Barracks in the section of Sinnall, son of Nallis, who is loyal
to his Regent,' and I stressed the title, not daring to continue for the
press of people around us and the sudden approach of two guards.

'The Regent requests the presence of the First Councilman immediately,'
one guard said, saluting.

'He's my brother. I must come, too,' Maxil pleaded.

'Only the First Councilman is required,' the guard said dispassionately.

Maxil's eyes clouded and his lip trembled a moment. 'But he may…'

'Lad,' Stannall reassured him kindly, 'I'll send for you,' and he
followed the guard.

Maxil's face wore the old, bitter mask. I tried to comfort him, but it
was the appearance of his younger brother, Fenian, drunken, strutting in
premature triumph, that stiffened Maxil's resolve. Looking at the
youngster, his face greasy and swollen with overindulgence, I could
scarcely see why anyone would choose him over Maxil.

Deliberately Maxil turned his back on Fernan and ignored the whispers we
both heard very plainly. Gorlot had spread his fiction about Maxil with
an efficient hand.

We didn't have long to wait to know why Stannall had been summoned. He,
Gorlot and another man Maxil said was Trenor appeared in the archway and
the maskers quieted expectantly.

'The Warlord Ferrill has been seriously taken with a heart attack. He is
resting comfortably at the moment. It is the opinion of his physician
that with care and rest he will recover,' Gorlot's harsh news rang out
into the Hall. 'We have been concerned with his health for some time. It
is our deep regret that his frailty will prevent him from fulfilling his
promise as one of Lothar's great Warlords.'

'He regrets,' Maxil growled.

Someone was moving through the crowd which parted to make way. As he
stepped up to Gorlot, we saw it was Fernan. Maxil winced. I saw Stannall
beckoning to Maxil and gave him a prod in the ribs. Because the boy
refused to let my hand go, we both made our way through the reluctantly
parting throng. I gave Maxil one final push and jerked my hand free as
we reached the steps. Gorlot, however, saw me and his eyes narrowed. I
returned his stare with a defiance I hoped was convincing.

People began to whisper together and then someone tittered and Maxil,
standing by Stannall, turned to face the Hall.

'What makes the eunuch think he can be Warlord?' some self-acknowledged
wit quipped from the safety of the mass. Laughter rippled from all parts
of the Hall.

'Eunuch?' I echoed angrily, rising to the first step and turning to face
the direction of the voice. 'Eunuch?' I repeated as the laughter died
and attention was centered on me. I snorted with disgust and disbelief.
'Can you know,' for the wit had been a man, 'better than I?'

The mutter from the assembled had an entirely different tone now, one of
surprise, and Maxil added the final touch.

'Sara, not here,' he pleaded, an agonized expression on his furiously
blushing face.

It couldn't have been more perfect. The canary-satiated look vanished
from Fernan's fat face. Gorlot's eyes narrowed to angry slits and his
right hand clenched and unclenched the knife at his belt.

'In deference to the illness of Ferrill, it is my suggestion that you
carry your revels to another place of enjoyment,' Stannall announced
quietly, motioning to the guards to step aside from the archways. 'Lord
Maxil,' and Stannall stressed the title,'the Lady Sara, may I ask that
you attend me?'

Gorlot stepped in between Stannall and us.

'As Regent, I would like to ask the Lady Sara a few questions,' he
almost snarled.

There was a hint of a smile on Stannall's calm face as he answered
Gorlot.

'Gorlot, you were Regent to Ferrill. Your Regency, a temporary
appointment in any case, has ended with your acknowledgement of
Ferrill's incapacity. The Council will convene tomorrow to install the
new Warlord-elect and consider the appointment of his Regent.'

Calmly Stannall motioned us to precede him out of the Hall. I couldn't
resist one backward glance and saw Fernan pulling at Gorlot's sleeve
impatiently, his putty face screwed up with childish petulance.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER EIGHT
-------------

Contents - Prev / Next

Stannall brushed aside Maxil's impatient questions about Ferrill. As
First Councilman, Stannall had apartments on the fourth level of the
palace wing. We made a silent progress down the blue, softly lit
corridor, punctuated with doors and guards, past Maxil's quarters. At
the door of his suite, Stannall paused, motioning the guard aside. He
produced a curiously shaped rod and pressed it into the small panel in
the center of the door. A low whine was audible and then the door opened
inward. Lights came up immediately, exposing the graceful main room of
the apartment and a filigree-framed balcony.

When the door was closed, Stannall turned to me sternly and demanded an
explanation of my cryptic remarks in the Starhall. I gave him an
expurgated edition of Harlan's recovery from the drug, intimating
that'suspicions had existed in certain minds' over the cause of Harlan's
unexpected collapse. I told him of our escape, my meeting with Maxil and
my subsequent abduction. As far as I knew, Harlan was in Central
Barracks in a detachment from Motlina, under the Second Leader Sinnall.

'I realize now why I was suddenly invited here for the Eclipse,'
Stannall mused, rubbing the side of his nose thoughtfully. 'My presence
has not been required much lately. Obviously Harlan could be kept from
seeing me here,' and he nodded toward the guarded door. 'But there are
other problems now to be surmounted.'

He turned toward Maxil thoughtfully.

'Although… ah… the Lady Sara has already neatly undone much of
Gorlot's plans to undermine your election,' Stannall began, inclining
his head graciously toward me.

'But we… she…' Maxil stammered.

Stannall frowned and looked at me for explanation.

'We met for The first time this afternoon,' I said meaningfully.

'Then the boy could be…'

'Nonsense,' I snapped, regardless of Stannall's position and age. 'He
doesn't think he is and he should know.'

'My daughter, Fara…'

'You know, sir, Fara and I have had an understanding for just years,'
Maxil blurted out.

Stannall regarded him with a kindly expression. 'I had hoped that would
develop into a constant feeling.'

Maxil swallowed hurriedly. 'It has. I mean, it would if you'd ever let
her come back to the palace.'

Stannall raised his eyebrows. 'More of Gorlot's machinations clarify
suddenly. Yes, of course, it wouldn't be to his advantage to have Fara
at the palace. Placing you under a tutor the like of Samoth…' Stannall
shook his head. 'Believe me, I was not in favor of that appointment. But
I felt at the time it was only for a little while.'

'Little while!' Maxil snorted, revealing the abuse he had endured all
too long.

'However,' Stannall said more briskly, 'we shall take care of that
little detail right now. Before anything else.'

He touched an ornate switch on a bare wall which slid back, revealing a
complicated set of panels, desk area and closets. Flipping a series of
switches, Stannall activated a vision circuit on which a picture
clarified of an old man, clad in a dressing robe.

Stannall greeted the man as Cordan, explaining the Warlord's collapse
and asking Cordan to contact Luccill and Mallant and bring them
immediately to the palace wing to confer with Trenor.

'With Trenor?' Cordan shouted indignantly.

'Yes, Trenor,' Stannall reiterated clearly. 'We shall need a full report
in the morning for Council. You will then insist, I repeat, insist on
seeing me, no matter what the hour, to give me, as First Councilman,
your opinion. I cannot overstress the urgency of this. Do you
understand?'

Cordan nodded gravely and Stannall broke the connection. Maxil sighed
with relief and flopped down into an armchair.

'Why didn't you tell me of Harlan's escape before you rushed off to
Ferrill?' the Councilman asked me sternly. 'You realize, of course, that
the news was too great a strain and brought about this attack? I could
have effected a convention myself, given your information.'

Maxil turned a horror-stricken face to me.

'I didn't know that,' I said, tears springing to my eyes.

'But, my dear girl, I am the First Councilman. Surely you know the
prerogatives of that office.'

'The Council was not in session,' I argued in defense. 'Harlan didn't
dare get in touch with you at your holdings.'

'Harlan made a poor choice as messenger, then,' Stannall retorted, anger
in his voice.

'I wasn't even supposed to be a messenger,' I cried. 'I just had the
misfortune to tangle with Samoth and the next thing I knew I was in the
palace and in Maxil's room. I thought it would help Ferrill to know
Harlan was all right.'

'Please, Sir Stannall,' Maxil interposed, alarmed at my tears. 'I'm the
one to blame. I knew how sick Ferrill was. And I knew all about Harlan.
It's my fault, not Sara's.'

'Oh, my situation is absurd,' I cried in my frustration. 'Accusing me
doesn't heal Ferrill now and it doesn't get Harlan into the palace and
make him Regent again.'

'He couldn't be made Regent anyway,' Stannall reminded us dryly.

'Why not?' Maxil's voice cracked in dismay.

'First, he has to be proved sane. Second, the same condition I cited to
Gorlot applies to Harlan. He was Regent for Ferrill.'

'But what if I want Harlan as my Regent?' declared Maxil with dawning
comprehension. 'I'm over fifteen, so I can choose.'

'That's perfectly true' Stannall replied as if he, too, had only
realized this fact. He brought his hand down hard on the communicator
switch, dialing quickly. He turned to me again, his eyes blinking
rapidly, his lips pursing in thought. 'There is no doubt of his sanity?'

'Of course not. He never was insane. He was drugged into a semblance of
mental imbalance. If you are having those physicians here for Maxil, get
Harlan here, too. They must be as qualified to judge Harlan's sanity as
Maxil's… virility.'

A voice declared it issued from 'Central Barracks', but no picture
evolved.

"This is First Councilman Stannall,' and the picture came on abruptly.
'I need additional sections for special duties at once. Are all
assigned?'

'No, Sir Stannall, but the ones available are all provincial
reinforcements called in on special assignment,' the officer apologized.

'That doesn't matter. Have you any men from my province?'

'No, sir. I could recall those from duty…'

'That would consume too much time. What have you got?'

'Units from Motlina, South Cheer, Banta…'

'Medina. Leader's name?'

'Sinnall.'

'That would be Nallis' son, wouldn't it?'

'I believe so.'

'Fine. Have him report by planecar to my balcony and give him clearance
through all that mess out front.'

It was too simple. I sat with my eyes closed in relief that Harlan would
soon be here. Stannall, pursing his lips in thought, brooded over the
length of his right foot. Maxil walked over to the fruit bowl on the
table and chose a piece to munch.

'I wonder,' Stannali mused aloud, 'what else Gorlot has been busy
doing.'

'Harlan seemed to think the Tane uprising was covering something up,' I
remarked into the silence.

Stannali shook his head in disagreement. 'I've checked and
double-checked the reports on that from the first attack. I've
interviewed some of the survivors of the first raids. Those that were
paralyzed with cerol. Wicked stuff that. I suspect some connivance with
Glan or Ertoi. They have always been so complacent about their role in
the Alliance. It isn't natural. And then there's that treaty concerning
the Tanes that Gorlot has been trying to ram through Council.'

I shrugged, not having heard anything about that. The sound of Maxil's
munching was infectious. I rarely needed an excuse to eat lately, so I
wandered over to have another bite.

We were all expecting it, but when the whir of the planecar's approach
suddenly drowned out the muted revelry beyond the gardens, we jumped to
our feet, startled.

The car hovered, connected with the trelliswork of the balcony and
disgorged its passengers. Stannali held up a warning hand and allowed
the group to file in. The planecar was closing its slot door when the
door to the hall burst open and the guards rushed in, weapons drawn. The
masqueraders, acting on reflex, pulled out their own arms. The two
forces glared at each other suspiciously even as Stannall's easy chuckle
dissipated the sudden menace in the room.

'I'm pleased to see such alertness,' he remarked to his guards with that
measured calm of his.

Weapons were sheepishly replaced.

'Mark these men well, guards,' Stannali continued, indicating Sinnall's
section. 'They'll be coming and going all night. Oh, and when the
physicians, Luccill, Mallant and Cordan arrive, they are to be admitted
immediately. They are expected.'

The guards backed out with one final suspicious glare at the newcomers.

As the door closed behind them, Harlan spotted me where I had been half
hidden by Maxil.

'Sara, how did you get here?' he exclaimed, striding to me.

Stannall snorted. 'That reaction proves he's sane,' he commented almost
sourly. 'You've heard the news?'

Harlan, one arm around me, turned back to the First Councilman.

'Bad news needs no announcement,' Harlan said heavily.

'Your emissary,' and Stannall gave me a curt nod of his head, 'was too
literal in the discharge of her duty. In consequence she also robbed you
of yours.'

'Stannall, that isn't fair,' Maxil interposed before I could explain
anything.

'Sara, you were supposed to get to Jokan's,' Harlan muttered, gripping
me tightly in his concern.

'Best laid plans,' I sighed. 'I ended up here, talking to Ferrill after
all.'

Stannall frowned and went into bitter detail of the events leading up to
Ferrill's heart attack.

'Sara wouldn't have known you could help us, Stannall,' Harlan said
firmly. 'Had I even the slightest hope you would be here at Eclipse, I
would have…"

Stannall waved off the rest of his sentence. 'You realize, of course,
Harlan, that your Regency also is terminated by Ferrill's incapacity?'

Harlan nodded, settling himself beside me. I sat there inanely holding
the core of my fruit because I didn't see anywhere to dispose of it.
Behind Stannall's back, Harlan took the core and tossed it at a
seemingly bare spot in the wall. A slot opened as the core neared and
closed silently behind it. Harlan's grin and the squeeze he gave my hand
mitigated Stannall's scathing disapproval.

'However,' Stannall continued, pacing, 'young Maxil here is next in
line. He claims he's ready to stand up and cry for you in front of
Council.'

Harlan turned to Maxil, a mixture of emotions on his face and a flurry
of unspoken thoughts muddying the color of his eyes.

'With thanks for the honor, young Maxil, I'm not at all anxious to be
saddled with the Regency again.'

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Harlan.

'But you were… driving us like cavehunters to get here,' Jessl
stammered out.

'To save Fenill's life, yes. It's in good hands now. And neither Gorlot
nor I is Regent.'

'But Harlan, you're the only one who can be Regent,' Maxil cried out,
his voice cracking perilously in his distress.

Harlan regarded him a moment with tolerance.

'You could certify me for good if I agreed with you, young Maxil,' he
said lightly. 'You'll find dozens of men eager for the job. I'll give my
personal recommendation that you'll be easy on the new Regent.'

'This levity is uncalled for,' Gartly growled disapprovingly. 'There
aren't dozens of men qualified for the Regent of the Warlord in these
troubled times. And you know it.'

'You're one, friend Gartly,' Harlan pointed out. He rose. 'I had been
Regent for seven years,' he said, directly to Stannall. 'That's a slice
out of a man's life. I've got other plans for the next six years while
Maxil grows up,' and his eyes slid enigmatically in my direction.

'For instance?' asked Stannall with an edge to his voice.

'You know my preferences well enough, Stannall,' Harlan replied sharply.
'You've vetoed my requests for more exploratory ships. You've overridden
my insistence that we must find more allies for the final attack on the
Mil homeworlds.'

This seemed to be the prologue for the renewal of an old battle of more
than unusual importance to both men.

Stannall opened his mouth to reply and then dismissed the subject with a
sharp wave of his hand.

'It does you no good to find new planets for Lothar if she is in the
grip of men like Gorlot and the petty bullies of his clan. You were, as
I recall it,' and Stannall's voice was heavily sarcastic,'the one who
initiated the colonization policy that would give the run-from-the-Mil
his first chance for independent holdings…'

'If there were not two but eight, nine, ten planets to divide, there
would be no such struggle,' Harlan interposed.

Stannall snorted his contempt. 'Of course, it doesn't signify that such
men as Lamar, Newrit, Tellmann - and I could name a dozen others - are
no longer available as prospective Regents.'

This was news to the others as well as Harlan.

'Yes, that surprises you, doesn't it,' Stannall said with calculated
scorn. 'Newrit and Tellmann were killed in the Tane revolutions; Lamar
and Sosit are in survivor asylums in pitiful condition. In their places
we have such notable personalities as Samoth, Portale, Losin…'

'Bumbling incompetents,' Harlan exploded. 'I've kept them on the
Moonbases since they aged into section leaders because they blasted well
can't do much harm to raw rock.'

Stannall smiled mockingly. 'Yet they are now quadrant leaders and the
only choice besides Gorlot that Maxil here would have.'

Harlan glared fixedly, almost sullenly, at Stannall. 'I have already
done more than my duty for Lothar,' he muttered.

Stannall's eyes narrowed angrily, but he controlled his face into an
appearance of good humor.

'Yes, you have,' he agreed. 'So has Ferrill.'

'I have the right to lead a private life, now,' snapped Harlan, jerking
himself away from Stannall and stamping over to the balcony.

'How would you lead it under the Regency of a man like Gorlot… or
Losin?'

'Gartly qualifies. So does Jokan.'

'Aye, and Gartly's willing,' the old soldier spoke up sternly.

'Jokan's reputation as a philandering dabbler disqualifies him,
however,' Stannall pursued, 'in the eyes of the conservatives as much as
it enhances him in the halls of the liberals. You know where that would
end: stalemate.'

Harlan stopped pacing and stood, his back to all of us, staring out at
the revelry beyond the palace and absorbing the quiet of the still
gardens. There was resignation and tired defeat in the set of his
shoulders.

I wondered in the tense silence that fell if his reference to
exploration made me indirectly responsible for the outburst that had
stunned the others. This change of face was unlike the dedicated man I
knew. He had thought of nothing for the last weeks but to get back to
Lothara, be reinstated as Regent and save both Ferrill and Lothar from
Gorlot's plans. It was incredible that he would suddenly separate duty
to Ferrill and duty to Lothar when he himself had given me the strongest
impression that the two were indivisible in his eyes. Hadn't Stannall's
revelations impressed on him that Lothar needed him more than ever
before? Why did he hesitate?

'My friend,' Stannall began in a subtly persuasive tone, 'your return
and the fact that you were really drugged into insensibility are the
final pieces in a puzzle I have been meditating ten months. Does it not
appear all too propitious that Gorlot should have been in Lothara at the
time of your collapse when you had ordered him on Rim maneuvers? That
three days after your… illness, the Tane wars break out? That Socto,
Effra and Cheret are replaced within the month, leaving Hospitals, War
Supplies and Records in the control of Gorlot adherents? That petty
officers with records as martinets and incompetents are suddenly
promoted to quadrant leaders? That Ferrill, whose health has never been
as robust as we could wish, is suddenly afflicted with a strange
debilitating malady and is successfully treated only by Trenor, a
relatively unknown physician from a back province in Gorlot's holding?
That Maxil is shepherded, disgraced, shamed, humiliated by a bullying
byblow, while Fernan is feted and cozened? That Council is left
unconvened except for the emergency quota all during a long summer and
that that quota is composed of those barons who have opposed your
reforms? They fit in, these pieces, don't they?

'And don't think I haven't left a cave unsearched to find out what is
really going on. I've seen every report from the quadrants, talked with
the wounded; seen the shivering wrecks that were our most promising
patrol leaders and tried to convince myself that nothing was wrong.
Because there has been no discernible evidence of illicit activity.

'And then, miraculously, you return as sane and hearty as when I saw you
in the Starhall two hours before your collapse.'

Stannall paused. He looked at Harlan to see what effect his disclosures
were having.

'Tell me,' the Councilman's facile voice changed flavor again, 'have you
no personal quarrel to pick with Gorlot for taking ten months out of
your life? Can he shame you with the stigma of insanity and not expect
to answer to you? Or are you still insane? The man who tells me his duty
was done with Ferrill's deposition does not sound like the Harlan I knew
ten months ago. It sounds like a drug-weakened dreamer, filled with
delinade, not guts and blood.'

Instead of being stung by the insults, Harlan turned wearily from the
window. He looked toward me first, but his face was expressionless.

'You touch a point none of us have brought up, Stannall,' he said
slowly, heavily. 'It is necessary first to prove I am sane to the
Council, to the planet, and to myself.'

Jessl and Gartly exhaled tightly drawn breaths. Stannall allowed no
expression of triumph whatever to cross his features.

'Harlan,' Maxil burst out, his voice cracking again, 'if you don't want
to be Regent for me…"

Harlan crossed quickly to the boy and threw an affectionate arm across
the rigidly held shoulders. 'My… hesitation… has no reflection on my
fondness for you, lad. Or, I should say, my lord.'

'That, too, has not yet been decided,' Stannall said briskly. He sat
down at the desk by the communicator and pulled out slates as he
continued talking. 'The physicians will report here after they make
their examinations of Ferrill'

'There's no chance that the initial verdict can…" asked Harlan.

'None,' was Stannall's emphatic answer. 'I presume Gorlot has been
merely biding his time before he brought up the matter of the lad's
health officially. Perhaps he didn't expect Ferrill to collapse so
completely.'

'But you said he'd be all right,' Maxil said anxiously.

Stannall frowned slightly at this interruption. He turned and looked at
Maxil as if the boy had changed completely.

'I said he'd live. The extent of his invalidism we'll know when we
receive the full medical report. At the same time they are here to see
you, my lord, they can make a preliminary examination of Harlan.
Undoubtedly a more extensive one will have to be made at the War
Hospital Clinic at a later date.' Stannall added a final mark to the
slate he had been writing on and handed it to Sinnall.

'Section Leader, this must be delivered at once to Lesatin. I believe he
planned to be in Lothara for the festivities, but I doubt he was invited
to the palace.' Stannall smiled wryly. 'His sympathies have never
paralleled Gorlot's interests. Once the message is delivered, consider
yourself under Lesatin's orders. Try first at his town residence, Place
of the Triangle Red. Someone there may be sober enough to remember where
the man went.

'Gartly, I want you to contact every old patroller you know, in town or
not. Jessl, get your younger friends together. I want word spread that
Harlan is back, that he is sane. That he never was mad. Your group can
spread the news quicker than the Mil can evacuate the city. By the way,
where's that ladies man, Jokan? I'd've thought he'd be along tonight.'

'He's waiting at his place for Sara. And I think she'd better go there,'
Harlan said.

'On the contrary,' Stannall countermanded, turning to look at me. 'The
young lady must spend the night in Maxil's suite.'

It was Harlan's turn to frown.

'I don't see the necessity of…'

'You don't see, Harlan,' Stannall interrupted testily,'that she is
essential to counteract Gorlot's campaign to have Maxil set aside as
impotent. In front of the entire Starhall, she admitted his claim on
her.'

Harlan turned white and stared at me.

'I did not,' I cried, although I didn't understand the undercurrent
between Harlan and Stannall that was directed at me. 'I said nothing of
the kind. And I only met the boy this afternoon at a cornade stand in
the square. Then…'

Stannall waved me silent. 'That must not be known,' and he pinioned with
his glance everyone in the room separately, exhorting unspoken
compliance with this essential lie. 'The impression,' and as his voice
underlined the word, he looked squarely at Harlan and then Maxil, 'must
stand.'

'A moment,' Harlan said in a too-quiet voice. 'I had a prior claim.'

Stannall turned to Harlan coldly. 'I cannot help your private plans for
the Lady Sara. The fact remains unalterable that Lothar must remain
under the impression that this girl is Maxil's lady. That voids Gorlot's
scheme to have Maxil set aside in favor of Fernan. Gorlot neglected to
include an element of chance in his calculations. We cannot permit his
neglect to be unutilized because of private feelings or dealings. I'm
certain that both Lord Maxil and the Lady Sara are aware of the
circumstances in which they now find themselves and will conduct
themselves accordingly.'

'Sara, I'm sorry,' Maxil pleaded with such adolescent embarrassment that
I swallowed the words that rushed to my lips.

'There is so much at stake,' I began, directing my plea to Harlan whose
jaw muscles were clenched with his unspoken anger. 'After all, it is an
honor to be the Warlord's lady. If I ever dreamed a simple glass of
cornade would lead to all this…" and I made an attempt at a carefree
laugh. Maxil gave me a rather sickly grin of gratitude, but Harlan
refused to unbend.

'With your permission,' he grated out between his teeth at Stannall and
then drew me out to the balcony. Stannall watched us leave and then
beckoned to Gartly and Jessl to leave and for Sinnall and Cire to join
him at the desk.

Harlan was gripping my hand painfully tight. He shut the glass balcony
door and drew me into the balcony shadow.

'Sara, that gesture may cost you your life,' he began.

'Don't be silly, I've braved the worst that Gorlot could do and…"

'Gorlot is nowhere near as deadly for you as Stannall,' Harlan said in
such earnest my levity failed me.

'You never come right out and explain,' I wailed softly.

He shook his head irritably. 'It is not a simple thing to explain. I
don't understand how you came to let Maxil claim you. Surely you must
realize how little you know of this planet.'

'I couldn't agree more.'

'Then how can you expect to play a part which calls for constant public
appearances where everything you do and say will be remarked. The
tiniest slip will be noticed. Sara, Sara.'

He took me in his arms, pressing my head against his chest, folding me
carefully but tightly against him, his lips on my forehead.

'What else could I have done? I've been as backed into a short cave as
you have.'

At my choice of words, he gave a little chuckle, and released me. I
could see his face in the shadow, his eyes on me were tender.

'There was one chance in several thousand you'd manage to carry off what
you've already done. But I'd far rather see you safely on my holdings
until we find out more about how you got here. And preferably, find your
world.'

'Is that what you meant when you said you had other things to do with
your life?'

'Yes,' he said sadly. 'Yes. There's more than just finding your world
and helping them defend themselves against the Mil. But that's scarcely
an issue to throw into the confusion of this mess.'

'But why is my origin so dangerous?'

'It's all wrapped with the horror of restoration,' he said in a tight
voice, 'which I have no time to explain. But you say you've come from
another planet. The only way you can have got from another planet that I
know of is by way of a Mil ship. And traveling on a Mil ship… well, it
follows that you must be a restoree. And to almost everyone, a restoree
is a horror to be exterminated at the first opportunity.'

I stared at him, my throat dry.

'But I'm not horrible, am I?' I whispered, scared deep inside me by the
intensity of his voice.

'Dear, my lady,' he said softly, framing my face with both hands, 'has
not half of Lothar acknowledged your loveliness?'

'But your restoree talk scares me,' I said, biting back my tears.
Fatigue, hand in hand with fright, seeped past the barriers excitement
and novelty had created. I was desperately tired.

'I know, Sara, but I must scare you enough to make you doubly cautious.
I feel so powerless to protect you.'

I'm too tired to think,' I groaned, putting my hand to the place on my
jaw that ached.

He opened the door and handed me back into the room.

'My Lady Sara is exhausted,' Harlan said, issuing his challenge at
Stannall.

The First Councilman looked up at Harlan for a long moment.

'Maxil, you have heard Harlan's claim.'

'Yes, sir, I have,' Maxil agreed somberly, rising to his feet.

'All right, both of you escort her to Maxil's apartment. Then I want
both of you back here,' Stannall said with exasperation.

Harlan, bowing slightly to me and then Maxil, gave Maxil my hand and
opened the door to the hall for us.

There was no doubting the shock of surprise on the faces of the guards
as they recognized Harlan on the way to Maxil's quarters. Neither Maxil
nor Harlan looked right or left. Maxil palmed open his door and stood
aside to let me and then Harlan pass while the startled hall guard
snapped to attention, his eyes wide and rolling around to get the
closest look at the Regent.

Maxil closed the door and let Harlan lead me to a bedroom, opposite the
one in which Samoth had dumped me that afternoon. The lights came up
immediately in the lovely room.

'How do you turn them off?' I whispered urgently to Harlan.

He pulled the door to and waved one hand over a panel of darker wood by
the doorway. The lights went out. I saw the whiteness of his hand move
again and the lights came up.

He stared at me fiercely.

'By all the mothers of all the clans, I should have claimed you on that
boat after all. Remember, you are my lady.'

The incredible possessiveness of his look stayed before my eyes long
after he left. I realized suddenly what the formality of 'claiming' and
using the personal possessive pronoun must mean. I had got myself
married to Harlan without even knowing it. I fell asleep trying to see
all the ramifications of my paradoxical situation.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER NINE
------------

Contents - Prev / Next

The next morning when I woke, I felt rested completely and, of course,
hungry. I was torn between a bath and something to eat. On the bed was a
heavy green robe. I glanced at the other side of the large bed and
assured myself I had been its lone occupant. I rose and belted the robe
and tiptoed to the door. I peeked out into the living-room, saw a clear
path to the fruit on the table and started for it.

'Lady Sara, I hope I didn't wake you,' and I whirled to see a young
blonde girl in a blue overdress, her eyes wide and anxious.

'No,' I muttered.

'I am Linnana and at your service. May I draw your bath? There are gowns
for your choosing and, if I may suggest it, the others will soon arrive
for breakfast.' She glanced at the hall door nervously, expecting an
invasion momentarily.

Beyond her, I saw on the raised level at the balcony door the table set
and awaiting diners. I nodded but nevertheless grabbed up an applefruit
before I returned to my room. I didn't care what she thought. I was
hungry.

I bathed and then allowed Linnana to show me the clothes she had
mentioned. It was a mistake because there were far too many of all
colors, lengths and fabrics, and a small chest of jewels as well.

I'm just a simple country girl,' I began finally, as even Linnana showed
impatience at my indecision. 'I don't know what to choose to wear in the
place for breakfast.'

She giggled. 'That's easy. With your permission?'

She held up a knee-length tunic and overdress in contrasting shades of a
soft rust, and took from the jewels a simple chain of gold with jadelike
buttons in the links. When I had dressed, no longer worried about
unfamiliar closures because she took care of that, she set me down again
and opened a small metal box. With a brush, she recreated eyebrows for
those I lost in the force screen. She added a touch of color to my lids
and a plush of paint on my lips and studied the effect. When I glimpsed
myelf in the mirror, my hand inadvertently went to my nose. I snatched
it back into my lap for fear she would interpret my gesture.

'My pardon, Lady Sara,' and she brought out powder for me.

It was a little reassuring to know that women still used such guiles on
Lothar.

Evidently she felt no more was needed and followed me to the door.

When I stepped out into the room, I stopped abruptly on the threshold.
Linnana had neglected to tell me who had been expected for breakfast and
I had not bothered to count the place settings. It would not have been
so overwhelming if I had known what to expect. Over twenty men were
gathered in that room, of whom I knew only Stannall, Harlan, Maxil and
Jessl. Following Maxil and Harlan's example, those seated at the crowded
table rose instantly. I believe I was the only one who saw Harlan prod
Maxil forward to greet me.

Maxil struggled with his embarrassment as he took my hand to lead me to
my place. Our flushing faces only compounded the desired impression.

A servant came quickly with the steaming chocolaty beverage which was
the Lotharian equivalent of coffee. It helped clear my head, certainly;
hot, tart and stimulating.

'You'll be pleased to know, Lady Sara,' Harlan began formally but with a
wicked twinkle in his eye,'that the Lord Maxil and I have been cleared
of the various physical and mental deficiencies attributed to us. And,
by the foremost physician of the world, Monsorlit.'

I grabbed frantically to balance the cup in my hand before my trembling
spilled the hot stuff all over me. Maxil hastily proffered a napkin and
a servant materialized to mop up and produce a fresh cup. I muttered
inanely about hot cups and tried to catch Harlan's eye. His remarks were
addressed to the table in general and he did not look at me.

'Gorlot was… obviously… mistaken about Maxil,' he continued
blithely. A polite ripple of laughter forced a bright smile from me.
There were no lascivious side-wise looks at me from the men at the
table. Actually fathers were quick to urge a likely girl to become the
unofficial lady of a Warlord. A child of such an alliance might well be
Warlord-elect if the father died without other, more legal issue.

'The most exhaustive tests brought by Physician Monsorlit failed to show
me mentally defective but he's to try his worst this afternoon in that
precious Clinic of his. I am, evidently,' and here Harlan's laughter was
echoed by the others,'to be congratulated on my astounding return to
sanity.'

'Physician Monsorlit,' the name rang in my brain and I couldn't believe
it. Could there be two with the same name?

'Remarkable luck, that,' said a man standing by the balcony, 'getting
one of Gorlot's own to validate your sanity.'

Harlan frowned at the comment.

'I say I find it difficult to believe a man of Monsorlit's caliber is
connected with Gorlot. He's too fine a scientist and physician…'

'Not too fine a man to have dabbled in the vile practice of
restoration,' snapped Stannall with such massive hate and condemnation
in his voice that it filled the room with tension.

I stared, amazed at the First Councilman for the passion of his
denunciation.

'He was severely disciplined for that youthful attempt,' a gray-headed,
senatorial man remarked, 'and has turned his remarkable energies toward
our truly pressing problem of insanity. Look what he has achieved with
that Mental Clinic of his. He's been able to train useless idiots to
perform simple duties perfectly.'

Stannall was not impressed.

'He has sought the proper cave in company with Gorlot.'

Then why, I asked myself, did Monsorlit say Harlan was sane. Don't they
realize that Monsorlit was responsible for Harlan's collapse?

'Gorlot will have difficulty now keeping Maxil from the Warlordship and
Harlan from being appointed Regent,' someone stated.

'I wouldn't be too sure,' Stannall said sourly. 'Remember, there was
little Monsorlit could do when three other noted physicians were
sincerely convinced of Harlan's recovery.'

'Then you expect trouble tomorrow when the Council convenes?' Grayhead
asked worriedly.

'Of course I do,' Stannall said. 'Do you think Gorlot will simply step
aside because Harlan has returned unexpectedly? No, the man is
incredibly cunning, else we should have suspected him long ago. How many
of you doubted his report of Maxil's impotency until last night. How
many of us have questioned any one of his other unusual acts? The
appointment of a back-province physician for Ferrill instead of Loccan
or Cordan?'

'But Trenor effected some relief for the War - the boy,' another voice
interposed. "There was a definite improvement.'

'Yes, a cessation of whatever drug they used to debilitate the boy,'
Stannall retorted.

'Did the physicians find the residue of any such drug in Fen-ill's
body?' Grayhead asked.

Stannall snorted. "There are many drugs with peculiar properties, my
dear Lesatin, whose traces are completely absorbed in the system within
a few hours. Cordan suggests that perhaps cerol was used since Ferrill's
motor system has suffered most. But that is confidential information.'

'Cerol?' Lesatin exclaimed in horror, 'but that's a Tane-grown drug.'

And, I amended to myself, the same thing they used on Harlan.

'Then the Tanes are behind this,' someone blurted out.

'No,' Stannall replied with such calm assurance that the rising hysteria
in that quarter was calmed. 'But I have good reason to believe that the
Tane Revolution masks some intention other than meets the eye.'

Stannall smiled slyly at the anxious requests for explanation.

'We have already sent… ah… qualified observer,' and Stannall glanced
quickly at Harlan with an accusatory expression,'to Tane to bring us
back a firsthand report of the situation. I have not been satisfied with
the all too reassuring official reports.'

'Neither have I,' Lesatin asserted loudly. 'They've been… ah… em…
too vague.'

Maxil muttered in my ear, 'Jokan took off on his own last night. Harlan
was fit to tie him to a Mil Rock. So was Stannall but not for the same
reason.'

'But Jokan was supposed to wait for me,' I said inanely.

'That's why Harlan was mad. That Jokan!' Maxil chuckled with delight.

Stannall was continuing smoothly, 'He will return as soon as he has
properly assessed the problem. In the meantime, it is essential that we
delve into every corner of Gorlot's administration and bring up from the
depths of each cave those inconsistencies which can bring the majority
of Council to its senses with regard to this tyrant.'

'I should think poisoning Ferrill would be sufficient,' remarked a wiry,
black-headed man later named to me as Estoder.

Stannall pointed a finger at him, punctuating his words, 'if we had
proof of it, which not even Cordan can find… except by the process of
eliminating other factors. Indeed, without Marian's miraculous escape
and return, we would not even be possessed of the suspicion. The action
of that new drug is comparatively unknown, you realize.'

'Just how did Harlan escape, if he'd been so heavily drugged? No one's
clarified that point,' Lesatin remarked, pointedly staring at me.

Harlan shot me a quick encouraging smile but allowed Stannall to speak
first.

'The… ah… Lady Sara,' Stannall had difficulty for some reason in
deciding on my title, 'managed to penetrate the sanitarium and became
assigned as Harlan's attendant.'

'We are doubly indebted to the Lady Sara,' Lesatin remarked, bowing in
my direction.

Lesatin seemed to me to be the sort of person who dotes on being
possessed of the fullest information on any given subject that attracts
his attention. He reminded me unpleasantly of an officious junior
executive at the agency library who had plagued me unnecessarily for
infinite details about this or that. I steeled myself for the questions
Lesatin, if he bore out the resemblance, might throw at me.

'Can it be possible to assume,' Estoder spoke before Lesatin could,'that
Socto, Effra and Cheret were removed from Hospitals, War Records and
Supplies more by Gorlot's intervention than the normal course of
events?'

'Possible, probable and entirely feasible,' Stannall agreed, 'and I
suggest we begin our checking immediately with these offices with the
thoroughness of the ancient priesthood in examining a novice.'

Everyone now had a question or an opinion or a suggestion. The breakfast
broke up into little groups of debaters, calling to Harlan or Stannall
for approval. Men departed in pairs or singly. Finally there were only
four of us left. Harlan reached for a heavy surcoat. I tried to catch
his eye so I could tell him about Monsorlit's visit to the asylum. I was
also afraid of being left alone with Stannall after his remark about
restoration.

Harlan spared time only to grip my arm and mumble about seeing me later.
As the door swung shut behind him, I felt awfully alone and vulnerable.

'Maxil,' Stannall said, 'I think you had better present yourself to your
brother's quarters.'

'Fenian?' Maxil countered, distastefully.

'No,' Stannall frowned, 'Ferrill. The morning's report is reassuring.
The paralysis of his right side continues. But last night's examination
contradicts the theory of a heart seizure. It will look well that you
have been to see him. And take the Lady Sara with you. I have assigned
four men as your bodyguard. Absolutely trustworthy,' and the First
Councilman's face relaxed into a reassuring smile for Maxil. 'You two,'
and he flicked his eyes to me, 'are not to be left unguarded for a
moment. Oh, and when you've seen Ferrill, your new quarters should be
ready. I'll see you at dinner, Lady Sara,' and he bowed punctiliously in
my direction.

'He doesn't like me, Maxil,' I said when the First Councilman had left.

'Aw,' Maxil shrugged it off. 'He will. Harlan'll see to that and when
Fara gets here,' and Maxil blushed furiously. 'I mean, aw,' and Maxil
rolled his eyes to the ceiling in adolescent embarrassment.

'I know what you mean, Maxil,' I laughed, patting his arm consolingly.
'It will be a great pleasure to step aside for my competition.'

Maxil's face screwed up even more. 'Oh, Sara.'

'Oh, Maxil,' I teased back, trying to reassure him.

A knock at the door disclosed Sinnall, in resplendent Palace Guard
uniform, at rigid attention. Behind him I could see an equally rigid
Cire and two huge guardsmen. Sober-faced and taking his new position
very seriously, Sinnall saluted.

'My orders, Warlord, are to guard, guide and defend you and the Lady
Sara. May I present Second-Leader Ore, and Patrolmen Farn and Regel!'

'Second-Leader Cire,' Maxil said, grinning broadly at Cire's good
fortune. Then he hastily cleared his throat and recalled his new
position in life. 'My compliments, Group Leader, and thanks for your
loyalty. I wish to see my brother, Ferrill.'

Saluting smartly, Sinnall backed out into the hall with his men, waiting
at attention until Maxil and I started before he signaled his men to
fall in behind us.

There was a vastly different atmosphere in the hallways this morning.
Perhaps it was the green sunlight that flooded the hall from the
skylights and balconied alcoves. Perhaps it was the crisp snapping to of
the guards who saluted as we passed where last night they had insolently
glanced our way. Perhaps it was the obsequious salutations of the men
and women who paused to greet Maxil, openly eyeing me. Several would
have engaged Maxil in conversation, but he was too nervous to give them
any encouragement and, to my relief, they tactfully withdrew.

There was a marked difference in Maxil's bearing as we continued. Last
night he had come close to cringing away from passers-by. Today, his
shoulders were erect. He held his head high and his eyes lost then-
apologetic furtiveness. He was beginning to accept the fact that he was
Warlord-elect; that this good fortune was his and that he could no
longer expect ridicule. No longer was he Samoth's whipping boy; nor the
'younger brother' of a promising Warlord, but the heir himself. And I
was proud, too, to see him conducting himself in what he considered the
proper manner.

Leaving our escort outside, we were immediately passed through to the
inner rooms of Ferrill's suite. At the door of the bedroom, a double
guard was posted to whom Maxil issued his request with new-found
imperiousness. One guard excused himself and entered the darkened room.

He returned immediately, holding the door respectfully for the man who
entered.

Maxil's confidence disappeared instantly and he muttered a halting
request. I was in no position to bolster Maxil because I was staring
straight at Monsorlit. I trembled with fear and apprehension. Round and
round in my mind whirled Stannall's words, and the volume of his
revulsion and contempt seemed to grow with each cycle. I looked
frantically around for some exit or something I could do that would
remove me from Monsorlit's notice.

'Certainly you may see Ferrill, Lord Maxil,' Monsorlit assented
smoothly. He stood courteously aside to let the boy pass. 'I must,
however, caution you to keep your visit short so as not to tire him.'

'He'll be all right, I mean… that is, he's not going to die or
anything, is he?' Maxil asked anxiously.

Monsorlit shook his head, smiling enigmatically. I turned toward the
outer rooms.

'No, Sara, stay with me,' said Maxil pleadingly.

Monsorlit turned, curious, to me.

He started to incline his head in an acknowledgement, stopped, stared
puzzled for a split second and then straightened. There was nothing in
his expressionless face to indicate whether he recognized me as Harlan's
whilom attendant or not. I was certain it would be only a matter of time
before he pulled my identity from storage in his orderly mind. Maxil saw
all this, but his interpretation of Monsorlit's stare made him flush. I
wrenched myself around and escaped into the darkened bedroom.

A greenish glow, pleasant, restful, fell on the book-piled desk, the
panel of communications screens, shelves of souvenirs and slates that
covered the inward walls of the room. Against a side wall was Ferrill's
wide bed, flanked by chairs and an austere hospital table with its neat
array of medicines.

'Greetings, Maxil,' said a low voice from the shadowy heaps of pillows.
'Come to view the departed?'

'Aw, Ferrill,' Maxil groaned, dropping on to the bed.

'My lord,' I heard the low hoarse chuckle, 'I couldn't be more pleased
at this turn of events. In all truth, it's been hard to play Warlord. No
idealist, no dreamer like myself should have to come to grips with the
realities of ruling a world. His heart is not sufficiently armored
against sentiment and suffering for the strict impartiality essential
for the domination of millions. I would soon have failed Harlan, my
father's memory… and Lothar.'

The voice trailed off into a cough. Maxil, a gangling awkward shape,
shook his head in denial.

'Ferrill, if I'd only known how awfully sick you were, I'd never had let
Sara tell you about Harlan. Stannall says that's what made you
collapse,' Maxil confessed brokenly.

'Good thing she did,' the sick man stoutly reassured his brother. 'The
only thing that saved my life, believe me, was fainting last night.
Otherwise you would really be gazing on the departed.'

'What do you mean?' cried Maxil aghast.

'Simply that I'm positive Trenor would have administered a lethal dose
of his palliative last night. The moment Sara told me Harlan was free I
could feel the prick of that final fatal needle in my arm. As it is, I'm
extraodinarily lucky to come out of this with just a mild paralysis.
Cerol is dangerous stuff. I'd've died a lot sooner did I not come of
stout-hearted stock. That heart attack rumor is false.'

'You mean, you knew you were being poisoned and never told anyone?'
Maxil cried out.

Ferrill snorted. 'Who would have believed me? "The boy's delirious",' he
quipped in an elderly voice.

Cerol, he had said, and that was what they had used on Harlan, but the
results were so different. On Ferrill they caused debilitation… on
Harlan only a senseless stupor.

'Stannall believes you were poisoned.'

'Certainly he believes… now. Who is that lurking in the shadows? Come
here,' Ferrill commanded. 'Ah, the Lady Sara. My harbinger of good news.
Again thanks.'

'I'm relieved to know that last night's message was good news to
someone,' I said gratefully. 'Even if Stannall objects.'

'My dear girl, you ruffled his feelings. Stannall has been thwarted of
late, both personally and politically. He dislikes most of all being
uninformed on curious happenings. A failing of his, but it makes him an
extraordinarily capable First Councilman. Almost too capable. Gorlot
must have had a paragraph in his plans for him, too.'

'Have you any idea what Gorlot was building up to?' I asked curiously.

'Apart from complete domination of Lothar,' Ferrill said with a nasty
laugh, 'I have only vague suspicions.' As I looked down on the
gaunt-faced man who had still been a boy a few weeks ago, it was
difficult to realize that there were only four years between Maxil and
Ferrill. It looked more like forty. 'I suspect he gave the Tane planets
away to those who have backed him. After Harlan's convenient sick-leave
had been arranged, Gorlot descended on us like a Mil ship that didn't
bother to orbit. Everyone had a good word for him. Took me a while to
come to my senses, I want to tell you. Then it was already too late. His
men were in strategic positions. The Tane war was under way and I was
kept almost too sick to care. After that, patient optimism and
intestinal fortitude seemed my only alternatives.'

'Is Monsorlit really helping you now?' I asked, speaking my fears. 'He
isn't just another Trenor for you?'

Fennill's smile was very knowing and wise. He waggled a weak finger at
me.

'Don't doubt our leading authority on nervous diseases, sweet lady.'

'But he's the one who was drugging Harlan in the asylum.

And I know there were others in there just as unwilling as Harlan. And
Trenor was their physician.'

'I don't doubt it.'

'And you still let Monsorlit treat you?' Maxil quavered.

'Yes. For the simple reason that I trust the man.'

I stared at him.

'Why he is allied with Gorlot, I don't know,' Ferrill continued. 'He is
an oblique fellow but it will be a sorry day for Lotharian medicine when
he is gone.'

'But… but…' I stammered.

'Monsorlit is not a proper cave-mate with Gorlot, no matter what the
appearances show,' Ferrill said with more vigor than you would expect
from so frail a person. Then he frowned at me. 'You are certain that he
drugged Harlan? Monsorlit was not at Maritha's the night Harlan was
taken ill.'

'But I saw Monsorlit give Harlan an injection and he called it cerol.
They thought I was a moronic attendant. And I know that there are nine
other men in that sanitarium, drugged by Trenor, with the same scuff as
Monsorlit used on Harlan.'

Ferrill raised a thoughtful eyebrow and pursed his lips, a gesture
imitating Stannall.

'That's when you decided to help Harlan?'

I nodded. Ferrill shook his head, frowning as he tried to correlate this
information with his picture of Monsorlit.

'You must retire now, my lord and lady,' said the soft, respectful voice
of Monsorlit.

I jumped and Maxil got to his feet, for none of us heard the door open.
I waited breathlessly for Monsorlit to denounce me. 'You will tire the
young patient,' was all he said.

But as we passed him on the way out, his eyes glittered at me and I
wished passionately I knew how much he had overheard.

Maxil turned frantically to me once the door was shut.

'We've got to tell Stannall, Sara,' he said breathlessly.

I shook my head violently. At the moment I didn't know which of the two
men I feared more, the physician or the statesman.

'Stannall will find out all he needs to know by himself, I'm sure. You
know his opinion of Monsorlit. And if Ferrill is to recover from this
poisoning, Monsorlit is undoubtedly the only man who can do it. We can't
take away Ferrill's chance of recovery. Let's forget, right now, what we
said in there. Completely.'

Before he could object, I pulled him into the filled entrance room. We
were greeted by queries after Ferrill's health. Twice Maxil was
importuned with unveiled hints for patronage. At first I thought Maxil
didn't catch them. Once we had reached the quiet of the corridor, he
snorted out a bitter remark.

'You should have seen them laughing yesterday when Samoth dragged me
back with you over Varnan's shoulder.'

Our guards filed behind us as Maxil led me down the corridor beyond
Ferrill's suite.

'We have the rooms my father and mother had, I think. They're the only
ones vacant I could use.'

There were guards at that doorway, too. Sinnall received the salutes and
replaced them with his own men. He then opened the door wide, stepped
inside and quickly checked each of the doors leading into the reception
hall. Evidently reassured no assassins or Mils lurked anywhere, Sinnall
threw open both of the big doors leading into the main room of the
suite.

Stannall's charming rooms seemed barren, cramped and cold in comparison
with the spacious splendor of this four-balconied living room with its
various levels. A wide window overlooked the riotously blooming gardens,
backed by the towers of the city, magically iridescent in the green
sunlight, sparkling in an incredible panorama to my alien eyes.

Linnana and a white-tuniced young man approached and both bowed.

'My Lord Maxil, I've checked Ittlo's credentials and Stannall has
already approved Linnana,' Sinnall said with stiff formality. 'Subject,
of course, to your approval.'

Whatever comment Maxil may have had was drowned by an uproar outside. I
had heard that bull bellow only once before, but it had been indelibly
engrooved on my eardrum.

My reaction was annoyance. Maxil turned white, his shoulders resumed
their slump and he crouched as if to hide. I caught him by the arm and
gave him a shake. He didn't see or hear me. Sinnall expressed his
annoyance actively by opening the door with an angry jerk.

'What is the meaning of this disturbance outside the Warlord's suite?
Get rid of that man.'

I doubt that Samoth would ever have passed the guards for all his burly
strength. He was at the moment impotently raging against their crossed
weapons. He quieted a moment as he saw Maxil and then began bellowing.

'I'm the Warlord's appointed guardian,' he howled.

'The Warlord's appointed guardian is the Council, not an individual,'
Sinnall answered with a snort at such ignorance. 'Remove this nuisance,'
and he beckoned to two guards farther down the hallway. 'Hold him in
custody. The only reason he was permitted to remain free was the
generosity of Lord Maxil. This has been exhausted. Off with him.'

The guards promptly took over and there was a certain overzealousness to
the restraints they applied. Sinnall cut off the indignant mouthings of
Samoth by slamming the door. He apologized to the stupefied Maxil for
the unwarranted interruption.

'Maxil,' I said in a wicked way, for the boy still looked scared
stiff,'think up something juicy for Samoth to do. Like decontaminating
Mil ships.'

Maxil's eyes began to gleam. Sinnall had difficulty retaining his
official face as the boy's unguarded expressions showed his reflections
on suitable vengeance.

'Maxil,' I began, having wandered around the room, peering into a study,
a small anonymous room, a room set aside for communication panels, three
bedrooms. There wasn't a bowl of fruit in sight, but there were plenty
of flowers. 'Maxil, I hate to mention this but I'm hungry.'

Maxil looked at me with disgust.

'I've never seen you when you weren't. Are you sure…"

'Maxil, order me some fruit at least,' I pleaded, cutting him off in
midsentence because I knew perfectly well what he might be going to say.

'My apologies, my lady,' Linnana said, coming forward swiftly. 'A
terrible oversight. I'll remedy it immediately. Ittlo!' and Linnana
gestured the other attendant toward the communications room with a
fluttery hand.

A knock on the door and a gentleman entered, bowing, followed by boys
carrying a variety of uniforms and other masculine apparel.

'Ahem,' Sinnall said discreetly behind his hand, 'there will be a formal
dinner, Lord Maxil. If you please…'

Maxil looked up at the ceiling in dramatic exasperation at such matters
but went obediently into his bedroom.

We were eating a marvelous lunch when Maxil was called to the
communications room for a call from Stannall.

'Council will convene tomorrow morning, Lord Maxil,' Stannall said
formally. 'Your presence is required. The Lady Sara will hold herself in
readiness to attend the convention.'

'Yes, sir,' Maxil agreed readily.

'I trust your quarters are satisfactory?'

'Yes, sir,' Maxil agreed enthusiastically.

'You are satisfied with the personnel?'

'Indeed I am,' Maxil replied, grinning broadly at Sinnall and Cire.

'Then until the dinner hour this evening, Lord Maxil,' and Stannall
courteously signed off.

'Formal dinner,' said Maxil gloomily. 'I knew Stannall would put them
back in.'

There was another tap at the door and one of the guards motioned to
Sinnall. There was a brief conference and then Sinnall went out into the
hallway, looking over his shoulder at Maxil. I moved so I could see into
the hall and caught a glimpse of an anxious young face. It took me a
minute to get the significance and then I turned to Maxil.

'I'll bet I got a glimpse of Fara in the hall just now.'

'Fara,' and Maxil's face lit up with joy. He ran to the door and yanked
it open. Sinnall and the girl were deep in earnest conversation. She
caught sight of Maxil, her mouth made a round O and she looked like she
would burst into tears.

'Get her in here,' I hissed at Sinnall.

Poor Fara had no opportunity to run as I was sure she wanted to. Maxil
had her by one arm and Sinnall by the other. I motioned to Sinnall to
close the doors to the inner hall so that just the five of us were in
the main room.

'Maxil, father will be furious if he knows I'm here,' she wept and then
she gulped back her sobs as she came face to face with me.

Her emotions were painfully obvious. She had heard all the gossip and
had been hurt by it. She had been betrayed in her love and denied sight
of him by her father whose political common sense dominated his personal
preferences. She did look like me, even with her eyes red with her tears
and with her hair disheveled. A younger, prettier, gentler, totally
different girl.

What impressed me more than her delicate loveliness was Maxil's
tenderness toward her. He drew her against him, one hand holding one of
hers to his lips, the other arm drawing her possessively to him. There
was no hint of the gawky adolescent who had clumsily tried to embrace me
the previous night as we deceived the waiter. He was Romeo to his
Juliet, strong and loving, tender and sure.

'Fara, I'm so glad to see you. What do you mean, your father will be
furious with you? I've asked for no one else but you,' Maxil was saying.

'But… but… we were sent from the palace and no one would let us come
back and Father wouldn't let me come to Starhall last night and then…'
and she glared at me. She drew herself up to her full height, suddenly
regal for all her youth.

'You heard those rumors about Lady Sara,' I finished for her.

She swallowed hard, too proud or too hurt to answer.

'Well, Lady Fara, they are only rumors,' I said. 'Lord Harlan has
claimed me as his lady.'

Her eyes widened and she gasped, looking trustingly to Maxil for
confirmation. I don't know how, but Maxil kept from blushing as he
nodded solemnly to Fara.

'Now, will you stop glaring at me and sit down while we tell you the
whole thing?' I suggested. 'I think I can see why your father was not
anxious for you and Maxil to meet right away,' I added as her emotions
of uncertainty, curiosity and distrust crossed her transparent little
face.

By the time she left in Cire's company to dash back to her suite, we had
the whole thing pretty well thrashed out. She didn't much like it, but
she understood. Maxil was so relieved I thought he'd explode.

'She'll accept my claim. She'll accept,' he cried, sliding down into his
chair with delight. Stretched out full length, his long legs stuck out
at angles, he sighed deeply and closed his eyes. Then, slamming both
hands down on the chair arms, he propelled himself up with astonishing
force, careering around the room. It was obvious from Sinnall's
expression he did not consider this proper behavior for a Warlord-elect.

'Leave him alone,' I laughed at Sinnall. 'You're only this young and in
love once and I've presented a terrible complication. You must admit
that.'

Sinnall shook his head. 'What if they give themselves away?'

'They only have to play along for a few days.' Sinnall still wasn't
convinced, but at that point Linnana and Ittlo suggested it was time we
dressed for dinner.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER TEN
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Contents - Prev / Next

Formal dinner meant just that, but it was a formality that very few of
the main participants enjoyed. Harlan and Stannall, alone, at the head
table, behaved as if they were enjoying themselves.

A portion of the Starhall had become a dining room, with a head table on
the raised circular section between two of the five archways, while four
long tables splayed out from it on the level below.

I don't know who was more nervous, Maxil or me. His behavior vacillated
between an almost unbearable imperiousness when addressing his younger
brother and sisters to adolescent sullenness when he gazed at the table
where Fara sat with adult members of Council. Stannall, of course, was
at the head table between Maxil's sisters. I was seated at Maxil's left,
and Lesatin, the curious councilman, sat on my left. Harlan sat at the
end, too far away from me for the conversation I wanted to have with
him.

It was not a cheerful meal although the food was excellent. Kalina and
Cherez, Maxil's two sisters, were dressed as befitted their age and
station, their pretty faces much sweeter devoid of last night's
excessive makeup. But they were sullen. Maxil told me that Kalina had
been told she was to deny the claim of the man Gorlot had mated to her.
Fernan, completely cowed by Stannall's presence and under Harlan's
scrutiny, ate the sparse meal set before him. His glowering fat face
with its pasty pimpled complexion was not a pleasant sight at dinner. I
avoided his direction as much to keep from seeing him as to keep myself
from Stannall's notice.

I must correct myself. Lesatin thoroughly enjoyed himself. He made
conversation for us to agree with, commented on one course after the
other. I felt terribly conspicuous and surreptitiously waited until I
saw what Harlan used as silverware. Perhaps I felt a constraint because
in Harlan's presence I was so conscious of inadvertently tripping over
my own ignorance. With Maxil or Sinnall I could laugh off a slip or
divert attention. But Harlan was so preternaturally concerned with
concealing my origin, I was unnerved. The menace of Stannall and
Monsorlit completed the top-heavy pyramid of my anxiety.

By the time the entertainers whirled out into the center of the huge
hall, I was weary. My back ached, my stomach felt overfull and churned
with odd tastes and textures. My neck felt stiff with tension and I
wondered if I could ever relax again.

When we finally filed out of the great hall, I tried to stay by Harlan.
He gave me a warning look as he handed me over to Maxil. I was furious
and frustrated. I desperately needed a few private words with Harlan on
what to do tomorrow if the Council should actually call me. I was forced
to go to bed without that reassurance and I was filled with worry,
worry, worry.

In the alarm-clock way I had acquired since coming to Lothar, I awoke
suddenly and completely. My head still ached, the room was unreal in its
luxurious appointments and my body felt logy and disjointed. Linnana was
evidently a skilled keyhole listener because I no sooner stretched than
she appeared to announce my bath was ready.

I chose the simplest of the rich gowns and a single strand of
contrasting beads as much to forget the extravagance of last night as to
present Council with the'simple country girl' I had styled myself in
jest.

The breakfast table held a surprise for me. Jessl was at it, chatting
companionably to Sinnall, Cire and Maxil.

The boy had recovered his equilibrium this morning, it seemed, for he
rose with a spring as I entered. Jessl seated me with a flourish and a
flirt. Linnana and Ittlo bustled about with dishes.

The mood in which I awakened could not linger with such gay breakfast
talk. Jessl insisted on a ribald recounting of town gossip about Maxil
and me and he was so deft with his recital I couldn't be offended. Even
Maxil, now that he had set himself straight with Fara, laughed. The
morning beverage stimulated me and unbound the knots of tension at the
back of my neck.

'Sara, Harlan said not to worry about Council calling you. Today at
least. We can all watch in the board room,' Jessl indicated the chamber
devoted to communication panels. 'It's a closed circuit into this room
from the Chamber. It will be a real pleasure to follow Gorlot's
downfall.'

'You're sure of it?' I queried hopefully.

Jessl scoffed at my unspoken doubts and leaned forward across the table
in a mock conspiratorial fashion.

'The things we've uncovered about that man would make your skin curl
off. Remarkable, isn't it, how the slightest breath of scandal on any
public figure brings forth previously forgotten slights and errors.'

'But will these things discredit him as a candidate for Regent?' I
wanted to know.

'Sure, surely,' Jessl agreed expansively. I wondered then if Jessl had
been purposefully sent to allay Maxil's doubts or whether Jessl was an
incurable optimist.

'What's the gossip about Harlan's return from insanity?'

Here Jessl did hedge. 'There's a great deal of controversy about that. I
only wish we had some conclusive proof that he never had been insane.'

'But he never was,' I insisted forcefully. 'He was drugged. Gorlot and
Gleto drugged him.' Why I inserted Gleto's name instead of Monsorlit's,
I don't know. 'I heard that from Gleto's lips myself.'

'Does Harlan know that?' asked Maxil anxiously.

'Of course he does,' I assured him.

'Then why doesn't he have you appear before Council today?' the young
Warlord fretted.

'Perhaps you are the main issue today, not Harlan's sanity,' I
suggested.

Jessl shook his head.

'No, Maxil's as good as confirmed right now. Stannall had an inspiration
and had the physicians check Fernan over, too. The kid's heart has
suffered from his overeating and he could never stand even normal
acceleration. Maxil's therefore practically the only choice. But it's
the Regency that's to be the heavy contest. Don't worry, lad. I mean, my
lord,' Jessl said with sincerity. 'Harlan and Stannall know what they're
doing.'

I fell to mulling over exactly what I had told Harlan concerning himself
in the asylum. I had mentioned Gleto and his being drugged but not
Monsorlit's visit, nor one other, possibly very important fact.
Yesterday I had told Ferrill that there were others held under drugs at
the sanitarium. If those men all recovered as Harlan had, and told their
stories, it would be definite proof, by association, that Harlan never
had been insane. I tugged Jessl's arm.

'Has anyone checked into the medical histories of Gleto's other recent
patients? I mean, say other squadron commanders or men of position who
have also suddenly and unexpectedly gone mad.'

Jessl swiveled around to look at me with dawning comprehension.

'Trenor had nine other patients at that asylum,' I continued. 'At least
that's what Gleto said. If they could be restored to sanity the way
Harlan was, wouldn't that prove that Harlan, too, had been drugged, had
never been insane? And I know those men were drugged.'

Jessl was at the communicator panel before I finished my hypothesis. The
screen lit to show Stannall's crowded living-room. Jessl asked Stannall
to close his circuit. The background of the room blurred and only the
first Councilman's face was distinct. Jessl repeated what I had told
him. Stannall's face quickened with obvious interest.

'How long does it take to recover from the effects of the drug?' he
asked, excited.

'About five days' abstention from the drugged food,' I reluctantly
advised him, knowing how important the time factor was. 'But maybe
there's an antidote or a stimulant.'

'We can try. It would be very interesting to check this. It would
implicate Trenor still further. Can you identify the patients
concerned?'

I couldn't. Stannall pursed his lips over this disappointment. Then he
thanked me with absentminded courtesy and the screen dimmed. Jessl came
thoughtfully back to the table.

'Sinnall,' he asked, 'do you recall anyone going off his orbit
recently?'

Maxil came up immediately with one name, a communications man at the
spaceport who had run berserk all over the flying strip. Then there had
been the case of a police official in the city. Jessl himself thought of
two group leaders. Sinnall suggested a veteran trader on the Tane routes
who had come home babbling some strange tale before he had been drugged
quiet by physicians.

'What kind of a tale?' Jessl asked.

Sinnall frowned. 'Oh, he made a rhyme of it, the way I heard the story.'
Sinnall shuddered at the memory. 'Went like this:

For a change the Mil can eat The gentle, juicy Tane meat.

Of course, there hasn't been a Mil raid for the last two Eclipses. And
only a few Perimeter skirmishes reported.' A few skirmishes in two
Eclipses: that would mean more than a year. Was I in one of those ships?
Could I have been on Lothar that long? But Harlan had only been in the
sanitarium ten months. And the Tane war started a week afterward. When
had I been taken? Before or after? And how? Harlan could only guess that
I must have been transported from Earth to Lothar in a Mil ship. How
then did I get off the ship; where did I go from there for Monsorlit to
change my skin and my nose? I was certain now that Monsorlit had been
responsible. How did I get into the sanitarium where I should have been
a patient, not an attendant?

'Sara's thinking. Maybe she knows another official for our missing four
men,' Jessl jibed, startling me out of my frightening contemplations.

'Me? No, I haven't followed that sort of thing. I was too busy with
Harlan.'

'Which reminds me to ask you,' Jessl began forcefully, 'where did you
meet up with our Regent? Jokan doesn't remember ever meeting you, but
he's been on and off Ertoi gazing into crystals. I've been underfoot and
I don't remember meeting you in our closed circle,' he ended with a
complimentary leer.

'Which should prove to you that Harlan is pretty good at minding his own
business all by himself,' I hedged archly.

This would not put Jessl off. 'Where do you come from, lady of mystery?
Your accent is slightly southern, if anything, but your appearance is
northern.'

'A girl can't keep anything secret around here,' I laughed.

'The lady minds her business pretty well, too,' laughed Jessl in good
part. 'I'll bet I'll figure you out yet. That's my speciality.'

Sinnall and Maxil laughed with him. But I could see he was a little
piqued at my continued evasion. I hoped he wouldn't pursue the subject
before I had the chance to talk with Harlan. Clan, cave and mining
engineering notwithstanding, I had very little knowledge to fortify me
against the determined curiosity of a friend. Or had he felt that his
own would not question the girl who had restored him from the living
dead?

'If you guess correctly, I'll tell you true," I promised easily.

Jessl merely smiled at me queerly and I noticed he was looking at my
hands. It was all I could do to keep from jerking them into my lap.
Harlan had been singularly interested in my wrists, too. Examine them as
I might, I could find nothing to warrant such scrutiny.

The guard entered to say that Council was assembling.

Maxil rose with an excess of nervous energy, while Jessl, putting a
reassuring hand on the boy's arm, got more casually to his feet. He
guided Maxil to the door and watched him down the Hall, Sinnall and Ore
flanking him.

In his unguarded face as he returned to the table, I saw the weight of
Jessl's own doubts. He had been careful to hide them before the boy. The
dread that had bothered me on waking returned in double measure.

Jessl and I went silently into the board room. I signalled Linnana to
bring more to drink as Jessl flipped on the screen to the seething
Council Hall. He yelled at Ittlo to leave off clearing the breakfast
table. Then he settled himself beside me on the couch, to stare moodily
at the screen.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER ELEVEN
--------------

Contents - Prev / Next

Had Harlan and Stannall been aware of how many people Gorlot had touched
in establishing his massive plans, they would have approached the
Council Hall with even more trepidation that morning. Gorlot had chosen
his victims well.

I know my own sense of foreboding was lulled in the first hour of that
crucial meeting. The very familiarity of a roll call for the Councilmen
as they named their provinces and districts (the Council consisted of
scientists, military men and landed gentry instead of the proportional
representation practiced on Earth) was reassuring to me.

Stannall as First Councilman called the session to order with a few
words about the gravity of the situation and a reassuring report on
Ferrill's condition. If it deprived Ferrill of his birthright, at least
it did not mean his death.

An ancient-looking, heavy collection of tablets was rolled to the front
of the chamber right up to the raised dais where Stannall and the seven
senior Councilmen were seated. (The significance of the number'seven'
harked back to ancient history and the first Harlan's Seven Brothers.)
An old man mumblingly read from the tablets the names of Father's
children. At a motion from the floor, Ferrill's name was ceremoniously
canceled as ineligible for the Warlordship. Maxil was named as next in
line and he was asked to step forward and present his claim. All this
was couched in the floweriest language, with great gestures and
ceremonial pauses.

Maxil came forward, holding his tall gangling figure erect. He bowed
gracefully to the eight in front of him, to the Council behind him, and
presented a much be-medaled slate to the secretary. A great show was
made of reading it. The legality of his birth was then formally
recorded.

Stannall took over and the simplicity of the procedure of investiture
was refreshing. It amused me, for it sounded so like an Earth marriage
ceremony. Stannall asked if anyone present knew of any just reason why
Maxil, second son of Father, son of Hillel, son of Clemmen, true blood
and seed of Harlan the First, Defender of the People, should not be
Warlord-elect in this, his sixteenth year of life.

A massive silence prevailed. I gathered that this would have been the
opportunity for Gorlot to bring up Maxil's supposed impotency.

Stannall's words of formal acceptance of Maxil in the name of the
Council were drowned by the roar from this august body. The entire room
was on its feet, shouting the boy's name, and saluting continuously.
Maxil smiling nervously accepted the acclaim with poise.

When the furor had subsided, a tense, uneasy restlessness took hold of
the assemblage. Stannall motioned to Maxil to be seated on the single
raised chair to the right of the eight elders.

'Since our young lord, Maxil, is under the legal age, it will be
necessary for the Council to consider those men who are qualified to
instruct him in the military duties of the Warlord and, with the aid and
guidance of this Council, in governing and guiding this world toward its
great and recognized goal, the extermination of the Mil from the skies.'

Stannall consulted a slate in his hand.

'We note that Lord Maxil is over fifteen years of age and therefore
considered to have reached the age of reasonable discretion. Following
the custom of our laws, he has the right to agree with or disagree to
our choice of Regent, and to propose, if he should have a qualified
candidate, a man sympathetic to his personality and his welfare.'

Jessl chortled to himself at that speech and I noticed a definite
stirring among the Council members. I could not see either Harlan or
Gorlot.

Stannall turned slightly toward Maxil and the boy rose as if forcibly
ejected from the chair.

'I do have a choice, one acceptable to this Council since he has been
Regent to my brother, Ferrill,' and Maxil's voice stumbled a little over
his brother's name. 'By my legal and accustomed right, I will choose
Harlan, son of Hillel, son of Clemmen as my Regent, with the Council's
permission.'

'But the man's been mad for months,' a voice from the back of the room
protested quite clearly in the stunned quiet. Others chimed in with
similar sentiments and a general arguing shout rose in volume. Stannall
folded his arms to ride the noise awhile before he called for order.

'We call Harlan, son of Hillel, son of Clemmen, before this Council.'

The great doors at the opposite end of the Hall opened and Harlan
marched in, looking neither left nor right. He held himself so proudly,
so regally, tears of pride came to my eyes. Harlan bowed to Maxil, to
the Council, to Stannall. Not all of the seven elders had had a chance
to see Harlan before this appearance and he was scrutinized carefully.
Stannall indicated the empty chairs drawn up on the left of the main
platform and Harlan, bowing briefly, seated himself there.

'We see that the name of Harlan, son of Hillel, is on the list of those
men eligible by their age, conduct and military experience to be Regent.
We also call before this board the following men, their merits to be
weighed before Council this day.'

Stannall began to call off his list. The first three names were
unfamiliar to me and at each one a Councilman arose to ceremonially
remind Stannall that so-and-so had died, or was over the maximum age.
The fourth name was Gorlot, son of someone - I didn't hear because the
name of the implacable man echoed in my mind harshly. Gorlot strode in,
his square face as still as ever, his square frame devoid of the grace
and litheness that characterized Harlan. He bowed to the young lord, to
the elders, to the Council and was gestured towards the waiting chairs.

Gorlot hesitated at the chair next to Harlan and then, with
deliberation, left two seats empty between them. His action had the
appearance of being cautionary rather than insulting. But it was a
well-calculated piece of business. Jessl groaned and cursed with
vehement originality.

I started again as Gartly's name was called and this gray warrior
stepped forward. He was but a year under the maximum age. He took the
seat next to Harlan, flicking his cape contemptuously in Gorlot's
direction. I could have kissed the old grump. Jokan's name, too, was
called and a mutter arose from the Council. Stan-nail turned to the
seven with the comment that Jokan was absent on a special mission for
the Council. As he was well known, his record would have to speak for
hun.

There were other names called, men I remembered Harlan using as examples
for candidates for the Regency: men who were reported dead or in
survivor asylums. I wondered if any of them were among the nine
unwilling guests at Gleto's. Jessl seemed to have the thought, for he
glanced at me significantly.

At any rate, by the end of Stannall's little list, only three were
seated at the left of the seven. No one doubted that the contest was
between Harlan and Gorlot.

'We are fortunate indeed,' Stannall began with a slight smile,'to have
as candidates two men who have already had experience in the arduous
position of Regent to the Warlord-elect.' His bow was impartial.

'At the young lord's request, we first consider the eligibility of
Harlan, son of Hillel, son of Clemmen.'

A sigh ran through the Council and was echoed by me. Stannall made a
sign to the secretary who nervously cleared his throat and read off in a
rattling way the personal history of Harlan. I couldn't always catch his
mumbling or the stilted phrases and ceremonial longhand he spoke. But it
was evident that Harlan's early career as a fighting man had been
brilliant, crowned with the discovery of the Tane planets as well as
some daring innovations in perimeter patrol techniques.

The secretary came to the last slate of the pile before him, and his
voice noticeably slowed.

'On the twenty-third day of the thirteenth moonset, Regent Harlan was
stricken ill and relieved of his duties towards the Warlord until such
time as his recovery was effected.'

Stannall smiled slightly and there was a loud spate of excited
whispering among the Councilmen. I wondered who had slipped that helpful
phraseology in the document or whether it had been there all the time.
Stannall raised a hand and the whispering died.

'As is customary, Council asked all candidates to present themselves to
the War Hospital to be examined as to their physical… and mental
fitness. Physician Monsorlit, as head of that establishment, may we have
your report on Harlan, son of Hillel.'

Stannall stepped aside as Monsorlit, whom I had not previously noticed,
rose from his side seat in the front row of the Council and took the
center of the room. He bowed to Maxil, to the eight men, to the Council,
to the three candidates. I caught myself holding my breath. Perhaps now
would come the bombshell to our hopes. Monsorlit's duplicity with Gorlot
was certain in my mind. He may have lulled the suspicions of others, but
would he show his true self now? If restoration were such a heinous
crime as I gathered it was, Monsorlit would not care to risk Gorlot's
exposing him. For Gorlot certainly must have known Monsorlit was
restoring people.

Monsorlit spoke well and without a plethora of confusing technical
terms. He summarized being called by Stannall with the other three
physicians to determine the state of Harlan's mental health.

'Even a cursory examination without benefit of special equipment proved
that Harlan had recovered from the grip of mental disease that
prostrated him ten months ago. You can imagine, gentlemen, how delighted
and surprised my colleagues and I are. No other patient suffering from
similar symptoms has recovered to such a marked degree.'

I glanced at Gorlot to see what his reaction was and, in spite of the
man's studied carelessness, I thought I detected a smug satisfaction to
his patience.

'Naturally, such a superficial examination was not conclusive proof.
Harlan himself suggested a more thorough one at the Mental Clinic.'
Monsorlit paused to thumb through tissue-thin metal sheets in his hand.
He finally sorted one to the top. 'I have here the results of our most
exhaustive tests which we compared with the last physical examination of
Harlan, taken shortly before his illness.' Again he paused and I took
another deep breath. Harlan was looking with obvious but not anxious
intent at Monsorlit. Gorlot sat, showing that trace of smugness. Maxil
fidgeted continually.

'There was a noticeable discrepancy between the two reports,' Monsorlit
continued. Gorlot's smile broadened slightly. 'It was apparent that the
reaction time in certain coordination tests and in the general response
to spoken and written questions was shorter.'

Gorlot's semi-smile disappeared and there was an agitated rustle in the
Council Hall. Monsorlit had thrown his bombshell all right but not in
the expected direction.

'In short, Harlan is in better general physical health today than he was
eleven months ago, the time of the last full physical examination.'

'What about mental health?' a voice demanded from the floor, heedless of
protocol.

Monsorlit glanced unperturbed at his notes.

'My colleagues and I are in agreement. On the basis of the most
exhaustive tests in our means, Harlan is both mentally and physically
capable of any duties or offices required of him by Lothar.'

Maxil clapped a hand to his mouth to suppress his glad shout. Others in
the Concil had no inhibitions about expressing their approval, but the
jubilation was not as widespread as I had hoped it would be.

Gorlot was glowering now and he watched angrily as Monsorlit resumed his
place, in the front row, oblivious to any censure from that direction.

Stannall stepped forward again, bowed to Harlan and held up his hand for
silence.

'This is indeed good news for the entire world. I trust that you and
your colleagues are already working to effect similar recoveries on
others of our leaders who have fallen victim to this new scourge.'

Monsorlit contented himself with bowing his head briefly in assent.

'A question, Sir Stannall,' a loud voice interrupted. Our attention was
directed to a portly individual in the right rear of the hall.

'You have the floor, Calariz of South Cant,' said Stannall after a very
brief pause.

'I recall the physician for further questions. I, and I am certain there
are others of my mind, am not sufficiently reassured by this… this
glib certification to trust the tender mind of an untried youth to a man
so recently mad beyond speech.'

Monsorlit came forward again.

'Physician, have there been other recoveries from this form of illness?'

'Yes,' replied Monsorlit blandly, to the consternation of his
questioner.

'As complete as Harlan's?'

'No. As I remarked earlier, Harlan is in better condition than before
his collapse. Due, no doubt, to the rest and quiet with which we find it
best to surround our mentally disturbed.'

'Why then, and particularly since you have been the physician in charge
of Harlan's case, was not the improvement noted and reported? I believe
I am correct in stating that this Council expressed a deep interest in
being kept abreast of any improvement in our… ah… former Regent's
health.'

Monsorlit did not hesitate with his reply. 'In such cases as we have
been able to observe where an improvement has been noted, it has been
either so gradual as to escape the untrained eye, or a matter of
instantaneous return to normal.'

'And Harlan's recovery was in which category?' prompted Calariz.

'Instantaneous,' was the bland reply.

'The liar,' I exclaimed.

'What else can he say?' muttered Jessl.

'Ah, very good, I'm sure,' Calariz was saying. 'Were you there?'

'Unfortunately, no. My time has been heavily scheduled by the weight of
our rising mental disease and the supervision of casualties from the
Tane war.'

'Quite so.' A neighbor beckoned to Calariz and had his ear for a moment.
The smile on the face of the man from South Cant was not pleasant as he
straightened.

'Tell me, Physician, is there any guarantee that Harlan will remain
sane? I mean,' and Calariz had to raise his voice to top the sudden
whispered agitation, 'can we be sure that say, six or seven months from
now, Harlan will not collapse under the stress of the Tane war and the
task of training our new Warlord?'

Jessl and I groaned together over this loaded question. Monsorlit
considered carefully.

"There is no such guarantee.'

Gorlot's face lost its angry blackness. Harlan appeared unmoved, but
Maxil's distress was obvious. Poor boy, he saw himself with Gorlot as
his Regent whether he wanted him or not. He probably pictured himself
dying slowly of some poison as Ferrill nearly had.

Calariz looked around him triumphantly and sat down. Before Stannall
could take the floor again, another man rose to be acknowledged.

'You know me, gentlemen, as one who has supported Sir Harlan in many of
his policies and moves,' this fellow began with the oily ease of one
accustomed to long perorations before arriving at his point. 'I have
stood squarely behind him, as I did behind his brother, our late and
much loved Father. I was the first to deplore the illness which deprived
us of Harlan's brilliant leadership and I want to be one of the first to
welcome him back officially to our midst. But… I have a serious duty.
For ten long months, this fine commander and statesman has been out of
touch with the struggles and trials of our daily living. He has been
unaware of our internal battles with mental illness, unemployment, crime
and general unrest. Can we put upon him the added burden of reassessing
past months when we can't hesitate so much as a millisecond in forging
strongly ahead? Can we ask him to take up again a part of our world's
life that nearly deprived him of his health and personal happiness
forever? That he has allowed himself to be drafted to resume the onerous
duties of state is indeed a credit to his patriotism and honor. But…
my friends and worldsmen, is it fair to the man, to Harlan?'

'That old…' and Jessl finished the epithet under his breath. 'He's one
we were certain was loyal to us. How did Gorlot reach him?'

I slumped down in my corner of the couch, utterly miserable. I got more
depressed as the next hours were filled with debates for and against
Harlan, only more were against. The text of their arguments were
substantially the same: Harlan had been mad once, he could go mad again.
Harlan was not sufficiently attuned to the political and social scene
and this was made to seem essential. Others tempered their views with
the feel ing that Harlan had served his world long and well enough.
Other personalities were needed. There were those who did speak out for
Harlan, couching in general terms their dissatisfactions with Gorlot's
Regency. But it was a negative approach where a positive one was
necessary. One man used the thinnest possible veil for hints that
Ferrill's health had declined rapidly and concurrently with Gorlot's
Regency. He was shouted down by Calariz and the oily representative from
Astolla.

Stannall finally called a halt to this verbal massacre of Harlan and
turned the discussion to Gorlot's suitability. The old firebrand,
Estoder, who had hinted at Fen-ill's suspicious illness, rose first to
cite inadequacies in Gorlot's administration and conduct of the Tane
war. Calariz and the Astollan gave him little time to speak and talked
loudly with their neighbors during his remarks.

'Jessl, he'll never win at this rate. What happened?' I wailed.

'It's the insanity angle. A lot of those who would follow Harlan through
a Mil raid are afraid of that. Frankly, if I didn't know Harlan had been
drugged, I'd be worried, too.'

'Then why doesn't someone come out and say he was drugged?' I demanded.
'I can prove it.'

'How?'

'I was there. I saw it done. I heard Gleto talking about it. He said he
was afraid Harlan could throw off the drug and he wanted to increase the
dosage.'

'That isn't proof we can substantiate, unfortunately. It's hearsay. And
it would be ridiculous to stand you up against the testimony of men like
Monsorlit. No, my dear. We'd have to have a physician's report that
traces of the drug were actually found in Harlan's blood. We tried it,
but his system had absorbed whatever they used.'

'They used cerol and you know it,' I reminded him sharply.

'And cerol is rapidly absorbed into the system,' Jessl retorted angrily.
'Besides, all we'd need to prove to them that Harlan was still unstable
would be for us to come out with a statement that he'd been drugged all
along. We'd be laughed off the planet. If only we had had more time and
could revive one of those men at the sanitarium.'

'They're setting it to a vote,' Linnana cried out.

I had to watch but it was horrible to witness this defeat.

'But Maxil won't have Gorlot,' I said helplessly.

'He'll have to take him,' Jessl muttered.

'But they can't do that to Maxil,' I insisted. 'He'll be poisoned like
Ferrill and what Gorlot's intended to do all along will get done and
then where will Lothar be?'

The roll was being called with droning fatality to Harlan's chances. I
wanted to break the connection so I wouldn't have to watch. I was
halfway to my feet to shut it off when there was a commotion at the hall
doors. They burst open suddenly to a scene of struggling guards.

'I am Jokan. I have the right to enter. STANNALL!' a voice rang out
above the scuffling and shouting.

'Let Jokan advance," Stannall bellowed with more power to his voice than
I imagined he'd have.

Jokan ran up the aisle. He spared no time for ceremonial bowing.
Catching Stannall by the arm, he spoke softly and urgently. The First
Councilman's eyes widened with disbelief. He backed up, his hand
reaching behind him for the support of the table. Jokan stopped
speaking, his face grim. Stannall stared at him. He managed to ask a
question to which Jokan only nodded slowly and gravely. You could see
the effort with which Stannall drew himself erect.

'I have grave news. The gravest. I must speak of something I never
thought would be said of a Lotharian. I must speak of treachery so
abominable that the words gag in my throat.' Stannall's voice did choke,
before he gathered strength and volume and venom. 'There has been no war
on Tane,' he declared in a tight, measured way. 'And furthermore there
are now no more Tane on their two silent planets. Why? Because they have
been taken by the Mil.'

A concerted gasp of horror rang throughout the Hall.

'How, you may well ask, did the Mil get the Tane? How did they, for that
matter, penetrate so far in from our Perimeter Patrol? Because the
Patrol has been withdrawn from the Tane sector. 'There is only one man
who has the power to do that. I accuse Gorlot,' and Stannall's finger
pinioned the traitor, 'of the highest, most gruesome treachery. I accuse
him of the foulest…' and here Stannall was drowned out by the savage
roar that came up from the very floor of the Hall. There was a mass
stampede toward the traitor.

Jokan had leaped to Godot's side during Stannall's denunciation. His
weapon was pointed at the man's throat. Ironically enough, it was Harlan
who kept Gorlot from being torn apart alive by the hysterical
Councilmen. It was Harlan who brought the mob under control and back in
their seats while guards formed a tight ring around Gorlot.

It was Harlan who called squadron outposts along the Perimeter to report
their positions. It was he who reassigned them and called up additional
units from the spaceport to rush to unprotected areas. It was Harlan who
kept his head, the man they considered unsafe to trust with their
government.

But it was Stannall who recalled the business of the day long enough to
insist on a re-vote which was dispatched with unanimous haste. Harlan
was again Regent!

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER TWELVE
--------------

Contents - Prev / Next

I had a sampling of the general reaction to this startling news from the
three people in the room with me. Linnana started to weep hysterically,
throwing herself at Jessl's feet and imploring him to take her to the
Vaults where she would be safe from the Mil. She evidently supposed the
Mil to be on their way from Tane to Lothar although this had not even
been hinted. Ittlo cursed monotonously, alternating his curses with 'How
did he do it? How could he do it?' This was substantially what Jessl
wanted to know.

First he managed to calm Linnana by reminding her that the inner network
of alarms gave them a full day's warning before the Mil could possibly
land on Lothar. There was no possibility of Gorlot's tampering with
those sentinels. She continued to weep quietly, falling into a little
lump on a chair, until I thought to have her go with Ittlo to get
quantities of the stimulating beverage. I had a feeling we'd need it.

With something to do, both Ittlo and Linnana were in better shape. The
door flung open and Fara came racing in, her eyes wide in her white
face.

'I had to come, I had to come. Maxil will be so upset,' she pleaded with
me.

Jessl and I exchanged looks. She was, of course, quite right. True, I
didn't realize that tradition would require a sixteen-year-old boy to be
on the flagship of the fleet that would undoubtedly meet the Mil the
next time they came thundering down on Tane.

Her concern for this crisis and its effect on the boy was instinctive
and creditable to the unselfishness of her devotion to him. I felt
ashamed. All I had considered was the fact that Gorlot was finally
exposed and Harlan vindicated.

'Help me get to him,' Fara cried, looking first to me, then to Jessl,
gesturing at the pandemonium in the Council Hall.

'Harlan will bring Maxil back here, I'm sure,' I said encouragingly.
'And I don't think anyone could get through to him right now. Look.'

Fara and Jessl turned to the hectic picture on the panel. Harlan,
Stannall and Maxil were easing themselves out of the Hall, all the while
directing various agitated groups of Councilmen. The comic relief was
supplied by the secretary. He was trying to keep his unwieldy table of
tablets from being upset in the push and shove. He kept jumping up and
down on one leg, weeping in distress at the ghastly news he must record.

Ittlo's questions, 'How did he do it? How could he do it?' were answered
in the course of the next few violent days. But there were a lot of
other questions that were never adequately answered.

The perfidy toward the gentle Tane who had so recently been reviled as
expendable savages shocked Lotharians of all degrees out of their petty
squabbles and united them once more in their ancient crusade against the
Mil.

'How could he do it?' was answered by the blazing personal ambition of
the man Gorlot, who had correctly assessed the greed of barons and
patrol dissidents, seizing upon the unrest of the time to implement his
scheme. There were many who had wanted the Tane planets as their own
playgrounds, or for their business monopolies. They were not especially
interested in having the Tane there. They gave Gorlot the support he
needed in Council when he needed it, in return for his extravagant
promises of large grants when his colonization reforms went through. His
choices of squadron leaders were promoted through rigged military boards
and the incumbents thrown out, moved up, or liquidated in one manner or
another. In return for their explicit, blind obedience, Gorlot
substituted in all key Perimeter positions the incompetent men who had
formerly been denied promotion. The few who went along only far enough
to get suspicious of Gorlot's ultimate goal or who found out
inadvertently were silenced. Some ended up as mental cases, others as
complete paralytics doomed to a short and useless life in the thrall of
cerol, conscious but unable to blurt out the frightful truths held
locked in their brains.

Gorlot had withdrawn the Perimeter defenses on the Tane sector, creating
a funnel down which the Mil, encouraged by the lack of resistance,
headed towards their new prey. The routine engagements Gorlot reported
during his period as Regent were actually those few Mil ships he had had
to destroy to control. Some of the men supposedly in cerol shock from
Tane attacks had been captured by the Mil. Frantic appeals, like the
case of the rhyming trader, had been put down to the ever-mounting toll
of mental health. I wondered how Gorlot, once the Tanes' planets were
stripped, planned to turn back the Mil the next time they approached the
funnel. Or would the Mil know they had had all the life those two
ill-fated planets bore? Would Gorlot have risked a Mil raid on Lothar?
My private opinion was yes, he would have dared, particularly if he
could be the hero of the occasion. Perhaps he meant ultimately to
discard the 'weakened line' of Harlan and start a new dynasty, the
vigorous 'line of Gorlot'.

The real miracle in the affair was Jokan's role. He had started back for
the north and staged a realistic crash in the mountains as planned. The
men who rescued him were patrollers on leave. They recognized Jokan as
the man who had been experimenting on Ertoi with the crystals. These
crystals had enabled the Ertoi to keep the Mil off their planets long
before the Alliance. The sonic vibrations of the crystals were powerful
enough to disrupt the cellular construction of the Mil and reduce them
to a battered jelly. The Ertoi were a much oldet race than the
Lotharians.

Thanks to the magnetic storms with which their planet abounded they had
early found a means of defending themselves against the depredations of
the Mil.

Jokan had worked for several years on a project to incorporate similar
electromagnetic crystals on every Lotharian ship. Laboratory tests had
proved that the crystals were effective if the Mil victim could be
encircled. It was this new weapon that had given Harlan the hope that
Lothar might seriously consider attacking the Mil home planet. However,
there was as yet no adequate way to shield humans against the effect of
the crystals. A man, because of his relatively denser cell composition,
could stand a much higher frequency than the Mil. But man still suffered
from the vibrations emanating from this weapon.

Jokan's patrollers mentioned that all the ships they had seen or served
on recently were now equipped with the crystal resonators. There was
considerable secrecy attached to these installations. Jokan was deemed
the permissible exception. He had, after all, been instrumental in their
development. But Jokan had not known that the installation of the
crystals was so widespread. He was immediately concerned and questioned
the men closely. What he learned was enough to send him back to Lothar
to make his desperate and successful attempt to get to the Tane planets.
He had left word at his apartment of his intentions, believing me soon
to arrive safely there.

The patrollers had also told him they had been in maneuvers off Tane,
using the crystals on Mil type transports, driving the ships toward
Tane. There had been several of these 'war games', combined with
expeditions on the Tanes in which the'rebellious' Tanes were herded into
cantonments to await punishment for their 'offenses' against Lothar.

I don't know where Gorlot was taken immediately after the fiasco at the
Council Hall because it had to be a well-kept secret. The palace was
mobbed by endless throngs and deputations, screaming for possession of
the traitor.

Numerous attempts to invade the palace by force to seize Gorlot were
repulsed.

Fara's concern for Maxil was just. He returned from the Council Hall in
grim silence. He made continual appearances on the balcony overlooking
the great Square, reassuring the people that the Mil were not lurking in
the clouds above, ready to swoop down and depopulate Lothar. With a
sternness astonishing for his relative youth, he assured them of
punishment for the traitor. The only reason for a delay in dealing with
Gorlot was to discover how far-reaching his plans had been. However, it
became necessary late that night to bring Gorlot from his prison and
show him to the frenzied mobs before they could be made to disperse.

Someone had started a rumor that he had been rescued or was going to be
rescued. What group of zealots might do such a mad thing no one ever
said. But Maxil showed them a Gorlot, manacled with ship-anchor chains,
bruised and bloodied, quite a different man from that morning.

The enflamed people had to be satisfied with effigies of Gorlot which
were burned, tortured, dismembered, tied to Mil Rocks all over the
planet, thousands of times throughout the night. Vengeance was easy to
accomplish by pointing fingers at those who had enjoyed Gorlot's favor
during the past ten months.

Maxil proved himnself a true descendant of Warlords, carrying himself
with great dignity during his trying personal appearances. I appeared
with him, as did Fara, Stannall, Jokan and Jessl. But I think it was
Fara's presence that steadied him most. Once Stannall recognized this,
at my insistence, there was no longer any problem about Fara remaining
in the Warlord's suite.

I think all the arrogance and imperiousness went out of Maxil that day.
The glamorous trappings, the little dignities and privileges that went
with his position had been brutally torn aside to show him the ugly
mechanics underneath. It was a frightening initiation into manhood.

The Regent and the First Councilman seemed to be on strings, in and out,
back and forth. Jessl stayed with Maxil but apart from one public
appearance with Maxil, Jokan was not in evidence. He joined us very late
that night as Jessl and I sat up, listening to the disturbed sleep of
the new Warlord, far too keyed up to rest ourselves. The noise from the
streets was still audible. I was, as usual, eating. I'll say that for my
participation in events that day: it was I who remembered that people
had to eat occasionally, particularly people under stress. And I made
everyone have dinner, including Stannall and Harlan.

Jessl took one look at his half-brother and did not offer food. He
poured him a full cup of a potent patrol brew. Jokan showed every minute
of the forty sleepless hours of his trip to and from Tane. He was no
longer the debonair man-of-the-world, playboy and wit. Jokan was too
dead-tired to play any role. He had lost the last of his few illusions.
Jessl and I waited as he drank, his legs sprawled out from the chair,
his chin on his chest, one arm limp over the back of the chair, the
other cradling the tumbler against his cheek between gulps.

'You know, Jessl,' he said finally, 'I circled those damned planets and
I quartered them. I went to every sacred grove on both Tanes. They were
fenced round with forcers. Only the forcers were off and there wasn't
anyone around. Used to be, there was always someone in a grove.

'And quiet? You've never been on such a quiet world. Those Tanes were
always making some kind of noise, that silly croon of theirs. You always
heard it. But there was always some kind of noise. I tell you, it was
the weirdest thing I ever felt. And those burned-out acres where the Mil
ships had landed. You could smell them. It made me sick. I was sick
until I couldn't stand and crawled back to the ship on my hands and
knees.'

I noticed that he wasn't exaggerating. The knees of his now disheveled
flying suit were torn and mud-caked.

'Jessl, if I hadn't been there,' he continued, miserably, his eyes
filling with tears, 'I wouldn't've believed a man, a Lotharian who knows
what the Mil do, who's been brought up to kill the rotting species,
could conceive such a scheme.' He shook his head and drained the rest of
his cup, holding it out for Jessl to refill.

'Didn't you find any Tanes?' asked Jessl hopefully.

Jokan shook his head slowly from side to side, from side to side. 'A
whole race of gentle natural people who never hurt anyone, who didn't
suspect treachery in others until it must have been too late. A whole
race wiped out. By one man. One man.'

Draining his cup again, Jokan flung it viciously against the wall. It
clattered and bounced noisily onto the carpeting. Jokan sat there
looking at the battered cup with narrowed eyes. Jessl reached for
another tumbler, filled it and passed it over to his brother. He and I
watched until Jokan drank himself into a complete stupor. Then we put
him to bed.

I went to sleep in the final hours of that night, listening to the dull
rumble of public frenzy which showed few signs of dying down from sheer
inertia. There was no less noise than there had been the previous night
with Eclipse festival going full blast. But there was a different feel
in the air now… a feeling of hate so strong it smelled, so tense it
pressed against you like heavy fog and made breathing difficult.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
----------------

Contents - Prev / Next

When I awoke at my usual hour the next morning, I felt oddly refreshed
by the short sleep and curiously alert. I was up well before Linnana
this morning, I thought with a grin. She didn't even appear when I drew
my own bath. In a way it was a pleasure to be alone, feeling as I did,
and I hummed to myself as I bathed. Gorlot had done his worst and it had
backfired on him. The yoke of apprehension was lifted from the back of
my neck. Somehow, to me at any rate, the Mil did not seem as terrifying
as Gorlot had.

I threw on a robe and walked out onto my balcony. The gardens lay below
me, trampled and battered by yesterday's surging mobs. Beyond, the city
was preternaturally quiet, the way New York could be, early Sunday
mornings. A sudden muted drone caught my attention and I located the
sound from the trail the ship made as it needled upward into the
greenish morning sky. The trail was barely thinning when another roar
split the air and a second, a third, a fourth line of smoke spurted
upward. I watched this exodus for some time before the knock on the door
roused me.

Harlan came in and motioned to me to stay on the balcony where he joined
me. There were circles under his eyes and fatigue lines drawing down the
corners of his mouth. But his step was quick and his voice firm.

'Good morning to you, Regent Harlan,' I said and gave him a full court
curtsey.

'Very graceful,' he grinned back and gave me a hand to steady my rising.
'I didn't hope to find you up. But I took a, chance. Jokan is far beyond
wakening.'

'He was very tired last night,' I tendered.

'He was also very drunk,' Harlan remarked, teasing me. 'Hardly blame
him. Wish I had the chance.'

I could think of nothing witty or apt to say because Harlan's very
masculine presence disturbed me.

He leaned against the wall, facing me, folding his arms across his
chest, regarding me with disconcerting directness.

'What is all the activity at the spaceport?' I asked, nervously
gesturing at the smoke trails.

Harlan didn't bother to glance over his shoulder. 'Sending out
replacements and technicians for the Perimeter. Have to replace nearly
every man Gorlot appointed with someone competent. He did a thorough job
of removing, permanently or temporarily, every able man in Patrol
unsympathetic to him.'

'You are afraid the Mil are coming back in force.'

Harlan frowned at me intensely. 'There is always that possibility.'

'It's what everyone seems to fear.'

'Well, they might. Gorlot gave the Mil a wide-open field with Tane.
What's to prevent them from assuming that the entire section isn't wide
open? Especially since we've always maintained such a vigil.'

Harlan moved to the balcony railing, looking out over the battered
gardens. Then he turned back to me, leaning against the iron support.

'Have either Jessl or Jokan been after you? About your origin?' he asked
anxiously.

'Jessl calls me the lady of mystery,' I laughed lightly.

Harlan frowned.

'I can't keep both of them away from you and they're curious. Look, I'll
send you some vision tapes about Jurasse. You can't read Lotharian yet,
I gather? Hmmm. That's too bad and there's no chance to teach you. Well,
you'll have to assimilate as much from the historical and vision tapes
as you can.'

Harlan stared into space, scrubbing his chin thoughtfully.

I noticed he must have just bathed, for his hair gleamed damply in the
rising sun. His lean profile stood in bold relief against the green sky,
emphasizing the strength in his rough features. I put that picture into
a special corner of my memory for easy reference. He turned back toward
me suddenly. The wry grin on his face set as he caught my absorbed
expression.

'I've never thanked you, have I, Sara?' he said gently. 'If you hadn't
had the courage of…'

I shook my head to stop him.

'You forget, you were the only way I had of getting out of that ghastly
place.'

He reached for my right hand, raising it to his lips without taking his
eyes off mine. Then he pulled me slowly toward him.

'Maxil's Fara has joined him,' Harlan said with a meaningful grin. His
arms held me tightly against him and his eyes compelled me to look only
into his face. 'Maxil is as eager to claim his lady as I am to claim
mine.'

Slowly he bent and lifted me into his arms, his eyes never leaving mine.
I could feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric of his overtunic
and hear the beating of his heart, fast and strong. I felt I must be
only one loud, frantic pulse beat. He put me on my feet by the side of
the bed, his eyes warm and intense with feeling.

'This is not a smelly fishing boat, dear my lady,' he said softly as his
hands unfastened my robe. 'And it is much too early for anyone to be up
and looking for the Regent.' He shed his own tunic and I swallowed hard
with nervousness. Quick concern crossed his face and he framed my head
with gentle hands. 'Is this body you cared for so long offensive to
you?' he asked softly. 'You know it so well.'

'I know it well, yes, but not the man within it,' I whispered.

He smiled then, a wonderful tender possessive smile.

'When the man I am is within you, you will know all of me well and I,
all of you. And you will no longer be afraid of me.'

My arms, of themselves, slid up around his neck and our bodies touched.
I couldn't control my trembling.

'Dear my lady Sara,' he said very softly, his voice rough with passion.
'I'm claiming my own. Now!'

A long time later, I heard his soft chuckle in my ear.

'You know, you were untouched after all. Those bully boys Gleto used as
guards weren't above rape.'

'I know,' I said in a very small whisper into his chest, 'I was
terrified they might have when I wasn't in possession of my senses.'

He tipped my head up so I had to look him straight in the eye.

'Afraid of me now?' he asked gently. He wouldn't let me duck my head and
he grinned at my furious blushing. 'I can see you aren't and I'm glad.'
He kissed me quickly and settled me against him. 'I'll do better by you
next time, sweeting. But I can't give a guess when that'll be. This is
stolen time.' He sighed deeply and the lines loving had lifted briefly
settled back into place.

'You look so tired, Harlan,' I murmured, worried, touching the raggedy
scar on his cheek.

'I feel a lot better now than I have for some time,' he grinned wickedly
at me and kissed my breasts. His hands tightened on me roughly. When he
looked up at me, his face had changed completely. 'If anything should
happen to you now…' He sat up abruptly, his strong back to me. I could
hear him slap one fist against the other palm.

One long arm reached out for the overdress he had dropped to the floor.
In one fluid movement he had thrown it over him and buckled it into
place. He looked down at me.

'That's why I can't stand to have you stay on here. Too many people get
to see you. You've too unusual a face to be easily forgotten. Someone
who knows where you were before you were made my attendant is going to
remember you. But…' and he sighed deeply,'there's no possible chance
of whisking you away to a less public place.'

'Nothing will happen, Harlan. Surely someone would have come forward by
now. I've been seen so much,' I reassured him. 'And I've been doing
quite well. I've had to.'

'You've recalled no memories, not even fragments that would give us a
lead?'

'None I want to remember,' I said, suppressing a shudder.

He bent to kiss my forehead in apology for stirring up those memories.

'By the way, we got those nine men out of Gleto's tender care,' he said,
sitting down beside me. He took my left hand in both his, stroking my
wrist gently. 'They're coming round and furthermore, we found enough
cerol in Gleto's medicine room to supply an army. There wasn't much of
that stuff available before the Tane wars, too new a drug, so it was
obvious someone has been importing it in quantities. We'll find out who
soon.'

'Then you can prove to anyone that you never were insane in the first
place. Not that it matters now.'

'It still matters,' Harlan assured me. 'But what is more important, we
should be able to learn from those nine when the Mil first got to the
Tanes… in what force…"

'Can't you get Gorlot to tell you?'

'We're working on him, too,' Harlan said grimly. 'We've had more success
with his cronies in Records and Supplies, but they don't know the total
plan.'

'What about Monsorlit?' I asked hopefully. It would be nice to be rid of
one menace.

Harlan looked at me questioningly.

'He drugged you, after all. And Gorlot appointed him,' I argued, not
understanding his reluctance to indict the physician.

'No. Monsorlit has always been in charge of the staff at War Hospital,'
Harlan said quickly. 'Gleto has been accused,' he added to pacify me.
'But other than Gleto's counter accusation there is no proof Monsorlit
was involved. Gleto's such a wretched cave-blocker his word doesn't go
for much.'

'But mine does,' I replied, trying to ignore the fear that sank like
lead into the pit of my stomach.

'Look,' and Harlan closed strong hands around my shoulders. He gave me a
little shake to make me look at him. 'We'll have to forget Monsorlit's
duplicity. If restoration is once brought into this, you'll be killed
just as if you were any other restoree. Monsorlit must have done the
restoration. He's the only one who would dare or who could do such a
superb job. But how he did it and when, I am not interested in finding
out. And neither, dear my lady, should you be. By the mother of us all,
Sara,' and he threw his hands out in an exasperated gesture as I stared
at him, unconvinced,'do you want to be discovered?'

'Monsorlit has covered all traces in this affair,' and Harlan swung off
the bed to pace restlessly up and down the room, 'just as delicately as
he covered all trace of restoration on your body.'

He turned and pointed his stumpy finger at me. 'If his hospital ship had
once been on Tane at any time, we could accuse him of hiding treasonable
information or of direct collusion with Gorlot. But he's clever. He kept
his ships in orbit one hundred miles above the planet. The wounded were
ferried up to him by small rocket. We can't pin a thing on him.

'There's just enough cerol in his hospitals for experimentation. And his
staff is so cave-bound loyal to him they wouldn't spit unless he said
to. How can we pin anything on him that would remove him as a danger to
you?

'He's got Ferrill back on his feet and to top it all, he's come up with
an antidote for cerolosis. That makes us grateful to him. And his
clinics for mental health all over the planet have touched too many
little people for us to try to defame him.'

'But he drugged you,' I insisted inanely.

Harlan shrugged. 'I can do nothing that won't endanger you.'

'What if Monsorlit remembers me?' I pleaded, desperately afraid.

Harlan dropped to my side again. 'Sara, Sara, please. Go on making
yourself into a Lotharian. It's safer.' He smiled plaintively and kissed
me tenderly. 'You're one now anyway. But remember, fear of a restoree is
almost as deep as fear of the Mil and to many… you heard Stannall…
just as hideous.'

I was about to say something when a gentle knock startled us.

'Just be careful, dear my lady,' he whispered urgently as the door
opened to admit Linnana.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
----------------

Contents - Prev / Next

I often felt in the next few days as if I lived in the old Grand Central
Station. Harlan and Stannall conducted much of their business in Maxil's
living-room and board-room, including Maxil in all discussions. The boy
would reel to bed late at night exhausted, rise the next morning and
grimly plunge back into the tedious reports from Councilmen and
Patrolmen, or broadcast reassuring messages to the planet. The palace
seethed with feverish activity and the air was punctuated day and night
by the blasts of shuttling rockets and great ships.

A full report of the death of the Tane was partially cushioned by a
discovery of a lone group of sixty badly frightened, suspicious
survivors.

All Patrol reserves were recalled for reexamination and assignment. The
fiction that this was due only to a reshuffling following the collapse
of the Gorlot Regency was not fooling many, but it kept hysteria under
control. Every available ship, no matter what size, was being refitted
with Jokan's electro-magneto-resonators. Busy as the spaceport beyond
Lothar was, Maxil assured me that the Moonbases were bedlam. Jokan spent
most of his time with Ertois and Glans although I didn't get to see any
of these extraplanetary allies until later. Jessl was occupied with some
radical planetary defense system and appeared only once at the formal
dinners that Stannall insisted be continued for public morale.

Maxil announced plans for a speeded-up colonization of one of the Tane
planets. Applications from all walks and trades would be acceptable.
With a wry afterthought, it was also announced that both Tane planets
were being equipped with the Ertoi defense crystals to prevent a return
of the Mil. I realized then that that must be what occupied Jessl, the
erection of a similar last-gasp defense for Lothar itself. To have
admitted this publicly would have crystalized everyone's nightmare.

My public appearances as Maxil's companion continued, but I insisted
that Fara also be included. Maxil always felt more at ease with her than
with me although I know he liked me. But I was eight years his senior
and, as Harlan had made plain he had a prior claim, Maxil was
uncomfortable when the three of us were together. With both Harlan and
Maxil bringing pressure on him, Stannall finally conceded that people
would be too concerned with the Mil crisis to worry about such 'minor
details'.

However, members of the palace circle soon took advantage of the fact
that Maxil had made no formal claim on me and pressed their attentions.
Stannall would not, however, permit Harlan to make his formal claim
public, which infuriated the Regent.

If Linnana ever mentioned finding Harlan in my room that first morning
he claimed me, she never passed the information along. I was deeply
grateful to her and she became very helpful in dissuading importunate
suitors who tried to enter my room.

My private time I spent listening to the tapes Harlan had sent me until
I felt I knew Jurrasse intimately and could tour its eighteen hills
blindfolded. Fara and I went to the Great Bazaar and I listened to the
talk of the crowds, shopping, watching, familiarizing myself as much as
I could with Lotharian ways.

Lothar was an odd contrast of technical advances and primitive
inventions. There were no land vehicles other than animal-drawn carts of
the crudest type. Women baked on wood stoves while the land Patrol and
the palace cooked with a form of thermal energy in gigantic ovens. There
was radiant lighting, but a crude type of radiant heating. Cloth was all
handloomed. There was efficient refrigeration but no canned supplies. No
paper but the awkward slates or thinly extruded metal sheets for more
permanent records. Widespread television existed and recording tapes but
nothing approximating typewriters or printing presses. Epic poems were
sung by skilled bards using stringed instruments and drums, but there
were no dramas other than mummeries. Glass and high-grade plastics but
no china, porcelain or clay.

My days were busy, but I waited impatiently for the few hours Harlan
could spare to be with me. He would come late at night, waking me from
sleep, or early in the morning as I could not break my habit of early
rising. If he came at dawn, he would bring cups of beverage and fruit,
teasing me about my ravenous appetite.

'When do you ever sleep?' I asked him, half anxious, half amazed at his
inexhaustible vitality.

He rolled onto his side and ran a caressing hand the length of my body.

'Here and there,' he answered absently. He stroked my wrist softly.
'Remember, I had months of sleep in the asylum and,' he added with an
engaging leer, 'as long as I have access to the greatest of all
restoratives, I'm doing fine. When I think of the time I wasted in that
asylum, the opportunities I was oblivious to…'

'You are absurd,' I protested, laughing.

'And you are delightful, dear my lady,' and we would be off again.

He never completely forgot my exposed position and my lack of
background. But I became more at ease and lost my fear of self-betrayal.
I was full of confidence.

The communicator panel, which was always busy, flashed on one morning
just as I was rousing from a post-breakfast stupor. Harlan had been with
me late that night. Jokan said the call was for me.

I recognized the speaker as Councilman Lesatin. In most courteous terms
he asked me to attend a meeting in half an hour at Stannall's office
beyond the Great Hall in the administration wing.

My curiosity, not my concern, was aroused. Lesatin had been a dinner
partner twice and I dismissed the man as an amiable, exaggerating
character. He happened to be the representative of the mining interests
in Jurasse and we had chatted about my coming from there. The only
question I hadn't been able to answer was what shaft my father had
worked in. I had fobbed that off by confessing to a sudden lapse of
memory. Very silly, I had said airily, to forget a title I knew as well
as my own clan. Lesatin had helpfully named a few shafts and I had
picked one eagerly. He had not seemed unduly concerned with my
forgetfulness.

When I reached the office, not only Lesatin was there but also Stannall
and several other senior Councilmen whom I knew by sight. I still had no
apprehensions.

I was greeted most courteously and asked to be seated.

'One purpose of this meeting,' Stannall began in his most formal tone of
voice, 'is to acquaint you with the public approval of this Council and
the citizens of Lothar for the considerable part you played in exposing
the traitor, Gorlot. Had you not suspected and been able to effect
Harlan's release, we might have discovered all too late the perfidy
planned against the entire Alliance. Our gratitude takes this material
expression,' and Stannall handed me a much decorated slate. I glanced at
it with what I hoped was intelligent comprehension and thanked them most
fervently.

'We feel we can never adequately recompense you for the danger in which
you voluntarily placed yourself.'

I muttered something to cover my embarrassment.

Stannall's official countenance relaxed into as pleasant a smile as he
had ever directed to me. The other five men beamed paternally at me. I
wondered if Stannall had now forgiven me my various sins. He had been
less curt, certainly, since Fara had joined Maxil's suite. Perhaps she
had championed me.

'We would be interested in knowing just when you first suspected Harlan
was being drugged. Also anything you can remember that would lead to the
apprehension of other traitors.'

'There's Gleto, of course, and his armed guard.'

Stannall nodded and remarked that they had been in custody for some
time. 'Gleto makes some odd charges,' Stannall added absently, 'which we
are unable to substantiate.'

'Oh?' I remarked hopefully, not at all suspicious of this line of
questioning.

'He had involved several men of prominent position whom many would like
to see cleared of such basely derived suspicions,' the First Councilman
continued smoothly.

'I'm not sure I could give you any help. I was shut up constantly in the
one cottage. I had no opportunity to overhear or see any visitors of
consequence. Except when Ferrill came to see Harlan. I think that was
the first inkling I had of irregularity,' I said truthfully.

'Oh?'

'Ferrill asked particularly to be informed of any change in Harlan's
condition, you see,' I continued, goaded by Stannall's noncommittal
reception. 'Gorlot made a sign to Gleto and he smirked. I mean, Gorlot
was plainly indicating that Gleto should not inform Ferrill if Harlan
got better.'

This was considered and commented on.

'Did Physician Monsorlit ever attend Harlan at the asylum in your
presence?'

My throat dried up suddenly and I coughed evasively. The truth, the
truth is one thing you never stumble over. But I couldn't tell the whole
truth. Not now when I saw what Stannall was after: an indictment against
Monsorlit. But they all knew that Monsorlit had been the attending
physician.

'Yes, he came,' I admitted slowly.

'What did he do?' Stannall seemed to leap on my confirmation.

'Made a routine examination of Harlan, administered a drug and left.'

'Did you have any idea what drug?' Stannall snapped.

I swallowed and claimed ignorance. Stannall stared at me with such a
menacing intensity it was very difficult to act unconcerned. My throat
was parched.

'Tell me,' Stannall began casually, turning his back on me for a moment,
fiddling with slates on his desk. 'How did you obtain the position as
attendant to Harlan?'

'The usual way.'

'Which is through Monsorlit's Mental Defectives Clinic, according to the
records,' Stannall retorted, wheeling back to me with blazing eyes.

'Well, certainly,' I replied with mock amazement that he should consider
this remarkable.

My admission confused him and Lesatin muttered something to one of his
colleagues.

'You admit having gone through the Clinic?'

'Certainly,' I was forced to reconfirm. 'Mental Defectives Clinic' I
heard my mind echoing and an icy finger twisted deep into my stomach. I
fought the sudden panic. I must think clearly now. I must. I had just
admitted to having been insane… no, no, I was seriously disturbed,
that's all. It meant I would be shielding Monsorlit whom I wanted to
expose. It meant, more certainly, I hadn't given the proper thought to
my background story at all. No one was asking me how many hills Jurasse
had nor the position of the Odern Cave Vaults nor the placement of the
inner labyrinths. Nor what shaft my father had worked in.

'Why were you in the Clinic?' Lesatin asked into that chill silence. I
looked at him and realized that this affable man with the insatiable
curiosity was quite capable of correlating odd pieces of information
into logical theory.

'I went there for help,' I said slowly. 'You see, I'd had several very
bad experiences that upset me. Some friends thought I might get help
there.'

'I went there for help,' I said slowly. 'You see, I'd had several very
bad experiences that upset me. Some friends thought I might get help
there.'

'What kind of experiences?' Lesatin urged gently.

'Remember the apartment near the sign of Horn? The ones that collapsed
in the earth fault? Well, I was trapped in my room for hours before they
could get me out. Then my father was one of the men who was killed in
the fault. I didn't have any relatives and I never could get to see my
Clan Officer. I'd have these terrible nightmares,' that was true enough,
'and finally, I went to the Mental Clinic.'

I wondered if neurotics were acceptable in this Clinic. Certainly in
terms of earth psychiatry, those two traumatic shocks were sufficient to
cause a psychosis… if you tended to be psychotic. I looked pleadingly
in each face to see the reception of my fabrication. I was relieved to
see sympathy replace skepticism and suspicion.

'Then you are naturally grateful to Monsorlit for curing your… ah…
nervousness and nightmares,' Stannall suggested.

'Well, not Monsorlit, certainly. I wasn't a very unusual case and you
had to be pretty bad to get his attention what with the Tane war.'

This was not the answer Stannall hoped for, I knew, but it was
plausible.

'Did you ever see anything… unusual… while you were in the Clinic
undergoing treatment?' asked Stannall conversationally.

'Unusual?'

'Yes. Cases where men were perhaps completely bandaged from head to
foot. Patients with scars on their wrists, ankles or necks?'

'Oh, no,' I replied hastily. I knew now what he was driving at. He
wanted to be able to accuse Monsorlit of restoration. And here was
Stannall's proof sitting in front of him. 'Oh, no, no. No restorees,
only men he had repossessed,' I blurted out without thinking.

'Repossessed!' and Stannall snapped the word up hungrily and turned
triumphantly to the others.

'What exactly do you mean?' asked Lesatin anxiously.

'I don't exactly know,' I stalled. 'I mean, the other girls in the
sanitarium were called "repossessed" and some of the technicians too.' I
recalled the conversation Monsorlit had had with Gleto about restorees
and repossessed. 'I guess I mean people who have been ill mentally and
he has repossessed them of their senses. People he's trained to do
certain things. I guess you could almost call Harlan repossessed, except
that he was never really insane.'

The qualification had an effect on the Councilmen. They talked quietly
among themselves.

'Perhaps we have been wrong in our suspicions,' Lesatin began without
his usual pomposity. 'The two terms, repossessed and restored, have
similar meanings. This young lady's statement bears out what we already
know. And we have certainly examined every hospital record and each
patient carefully. I have found no evidence of restoration.'

Stannall turned angrily toward Lesatin. I gathered he wished Lesatin had
not been so outspoken. Lesatin shrugged off the silent reprimand.

'All we have is the word of a low Milbait like Gleto against the
innumerable proofs to the contrary from unimpeachable sources,' Lesatin
said. 'Surely, Sir Stannall, you must realize the splendid contributions
Monsorlit has made toward the insidious problem of insanity…'

'I realize that Monsorlit, in some way, despite all oral and written
proof to the contrary, aided and abetted Gorlot in his treachery. If
just one, just one of those casualties had been capable of speech, we
would have discovered this obscene plot. Why couldn't one of them
speak?'

'Monsorlit received all casualties in the orbital hospital ship. There
was ample opportunity for someone like Trenor, who has admitted his
complicity, to silence them effectively with cerol,' Lesatin pointed
out.

'Can't you help us?' Stannall said fiercely to me, his eyes blazing with
a fanatical hate. 'Won't you help us?' His intensity startled me so that
nothing could have made me speak out. I comprehended too well the logic
behind Harlan's advice to forget Monsorlit's part in his incarceration.

Stannall advanced to me, to my growing terror, for the mild-mannered
First Councilman was as one possessed, his face gray with emotion, his
wiry body trembling with rage.

Harlan burst in the door. At sight of him, I cried out in relief.
Harlan's entrance was explosive, not casual. The news he blurted out
with no preamble cleared the room of all other interests.

'The Mil are coming,' he cried in a tight voice. Striding to the
communicator wall, he snapped on the picture to a scene of complete
confusion. A gasping older man in uniform was shrieking out his message.

'The Mil! THE MIL ARE COMING!'

'Report position, report position,' Harlan said in a controlled voice,
forcing comprehension through the man's hysterical repetition of his
ghastly message. I could see the squadron commander, for I realized this
was a ship's signal room, gulping for control. The slate he held in his
hand shook violently, but his voice lowered.

'I beg to report," he gasped, seizing on the inanities of protocol to
reassure himself, 'infiltration past the first ring. Twenty-three Mil
ships, fifteen Star class, five Planet, with three attendant satellite
trailers. Moving directly Taneward at equatorial intersection.'

'Twenty-three,' Stannall murmured incredulously. 'The largest force in
three centuries. And moving toward Tane.'

'Spur infiltrations?' Harlan demanded, his voice metallic with command.

'No, sir. Just the direct route unless…' and the squadron commander's
hand shook more noticeably, 'they break off later.'

'What is their pace rate and interception potential for supreme task
force?'

'Base is working on it now, sir,' a shadow voice put in.

'Proceed with Prime Action, and, Commander, are all your ships equipped
with the new electromagnetic crystals?'

'Yes, sir, they are, sir. But we've had no test runs.'

'No matter. Maintain surveillance but under no circumstances, repeat,
under no circumstances, attempt standard delaying tactics. My respect to
you and your squadron, Commander. You will receive additional orders
shortly.'

The picture faded as Harlan punched another dial. Before the picture had
been fully established, I heard a piercing wail outside, the eerie
panther-cry of a warning siren. Stannall and the others left the room,
walking stiffly as people in the midst of a horrible dream. I heard
Harlan's voice, calm, unhurried, the usual metallic burr of command
adding its harsh note, as he announced to the planet total, immediate
mobilization and complete civilian evacuation.

I listened stunned through this electrifying broadcast. Then he switched
with unhurried sureness to the vast globular room I identified as the
Moonbase Headquarters of the Patrol. Here also was the unfumbling
dispatch of trained men reacting to an emergency that had been theory
for three generations and was now, unexpectedly, grim actuality.

I saw Gartly and Jessl among the men in the Moonbase and, for the first
time, representatives of the Alliance planets, Ertoi and Blan. The
former were as humanoid as a saurian species can appear, complete with
gills and scaled armor. The second, the Glan, were willowy skeletons
with three digits and an opposing thumb. Their bodies were covered .with
a fine down, their faces, long and narrow, were sensitive. Their
apparently ineffectual bodies were deceptive for the Glan were
structurally twice as strong as Lotharians and equal to their scaly
space neighbors, the Ertois.

From them, Harlan received the news that their entire force was speeding
toward the penetration point. I thought this was excellent cooperation
until I saw the spatial tank and realized that their relative position
had a great deal to do with such all-out collaboration. Spatially
speaking, they were above and beyond Tane and Lothar but only as the
apex of an isosceles triangle is above and beyond its base points. It
was to their advantage to deflect any further penetration of the Mil at
Tane or Lothar, for the angle of the Mil advance made the triangle
two-dimensional and therefore Ertoi and Glan were not galactically far
from Lothar.

The Alliance contingent, however, had the farthest to come and there
remained the calculation of experts to determine if it were better to
wait for their reinforcing navy before joining battle or whether to
attempt it with only the Lotharian fleet. That decision ultimately
rested with Harlan as Regent and, in this emergency, the de facto
Warlord.

The decisive figures were not to be completed for several hours and
Harlan signed off with the advice that he would presently board his
command ship. All further communications were to be forwarded there. He
made one more call and I saw the startled boy-scared face of Maxil. He
was being dresed in a shipsuit by a grim Jokan.

'It is my duty to inform my lord,' Harlan began formally,'that Lothar is
in gravest danger. I must now assume all rights, responsibilities and
privileges. Will you accompany me on board the flagship?'

'What do I say?' Maxil asked, his voice steady.

Harlan gave him a reassuring grin.

'You acknowledge the danger, relinquish to me your rights and
responsibilities and say you'll join me. You're a little young for this,
lad, but I don't think you'd want to miss it. And, if you're feeling
scared, you're not alone. I'll see you in half an hour. Now, please let
me speak to Jokan.'

Maxil nodded and stepped aside.

'Jokan, you'll take Sara along with Ferrill to the Vaults. Stannall and
the Council will be assembling there presently. I've got the power so
they can't object to any emergency measure I propose. Space help us if
Maxil and I go down together. I'm ordering you alternate Regent this
time,' and he snorted at his behindsight.

'Now wait a minute, Harlan, I'm going with you…' Jokan objected, his
eyes flashing angrily.

'No, Jokan. You can't,' Harlan said with absolute finality. 'It could be
more important to Lothar's future to have you alive if something goes
wrong with our attack plan. I haven't more time to explain now. Jo, you
know I wouldn't ask it if I didn't have to.'

Jokan glared helplessly, searching for an argument strong enough to sway
his brother.

'Jokan, I count on you. I can't trust anyone else,' Harlan repeated, his
voice tight with the desperate urgency of his appeal.

Jokan set his teeth and bowed his head once in stiff resignation.

'Where's Sara?' Harlan asked.

'Here,' I reminded him.

Harlan whirled around and stared at me fiercely for a moment. I didn't
know whether to be amused or hurt he had forgotten I was there.

'Jokan, I call you to witness that I claim the Lady Sara to be my lady,'
he said formally, drawing me by the hand into the range of the vision
screen.

'I accept the claim of Harlan, son of Hillel,' I said proudly and Harlan
kissed my hand formally. Even now his thumb paused over my wrist.

'Jokan, I'll give Sara the alternate commission of Regency. And Jo, if
something should happen, guard Sara. If I don't come back, she has
something very important to tell you. Now get Maxil off to the
spaceport. I'll meet the boy there.'

He flicked the panel to one more station, ordering his planecar brought
to the balcony of the office in twenty minutes. Turning away from the
set, he looked at me with such avid hunger in his face I had to turn my
eyes away from his naked desire.

When I looked up at the slam of a drawer, I saw he was swiftly styling a
slate. I sat down and watched him as he wrote, thinking with a sense of
despair that this might be the last time I ever saw him. I memorized his
face so that my mind would be able to recall the image faithfully should
I never see the original again. It was difficult to reconcile the fierce
and gentle lover I knew best with this grim warrior, urgently writing
last-minute instructions for the safety of a world he might never walk
again. He finished one slate quickly, tossing it aside with a clatter to
clear space for the next. This, too, he wrote quickly. The third one,
however, did not come as readily and he frowned as he wrote, blended
out, and restyled. He punctuated this final message noisily and flipped
a protecting film over it which he sealed. He gathered the three
together and then stood up.

He came toward me and I rose to meet him. I had lead in my stomach and I
needed iron in my thighs which did not seem strong enough to support me
as I stood. In a few moments he would go out the balcony windows and…

He put his strong fingers on my shoulders and gave me a little shake to
make me concentrate on what he had to say. His face had softened its
grim expression and his eyes wandered lovingly over my face.

'If I don't come back… but I will,' he reassured me quickly as I
gasped at his fatalism, 'give the third slate to Ferrill. To no one
else. Ferrill is the only one who would be able to help and stand up to
Stannall.

Jokan can guard you because I have pledged him to it, but only Ferrill
can help against Stannall. Stay with those two as long as I'm gone and
watch that quick tongue of yours.'

'Harlann.'

He gave me another little shake to hush.

'If I were a soldier/ on your world and going to battle… but maybe
your world doesn't have wars… pretend, anyway. How… Oh Sara,' and he
pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. 'I have known you such a
short, little time.'

I threw my arms around his neck, choking back a sob.

'Not with a tear, Sara,' he reprimanded me gently. 'Surely not with
tears?'

'No, not with tears,' I denied, crying, lifting my lips to his kiss.

I clung to him desperately, for the passion that his slightest caress
evoked in me welled up to meet his. Abruptly he took his mouth from mine
and held my head fiercely against his shoulder, burying his lips in my
hair.

Slowly he released me, holding my hands gently as I struggled to hold
back my tears.

'Honor my claim to you, dear my lady.'

A horn blasted outside and I saw the hovering aircar. I felt his hands
pressing mine around the slates and, through my tears, saw him stride
out to the balcony and into the car. I watched until I could no longer
see it over the arc of the palace gardens.

My head ached with the pressure of stifled grief and my body from the
stimulus of his caresses. I would always associate the mingled odors of
car-fuel, fresh slate wax and mid-morning musty heat with that scene.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
---------------

Contents - Prev / Next

I carried the slates, holding them stiffly in both hands just as Harlan
had placed them there. I walked down corridors that were obstacle
courses of hustling men and equipment. There was no panic, just urgent
dispatch. No hysterics, only grim determination. But I was oblivious.
Their haste, their muttered apologies bounced off the numb shell of my
exterior.

I don't think I had quite accepted the fact that Harlan really cared for
me. I accepted the fact that he was grateful to me; that he found me
useful in sailing a ship; that he liked to be seen with me; that he
liked to go to bed with me, but not that his emotions were involved. I
knew he was concerned for my safety, but I had irrationally connected
that with the fact that only I could recognize my own home planet in
space and Harlan keenly wanted more allies to help overthrow the Mil. It
was just difficult for me to assimilate the knowledge. I was Harlan's
lady, me, Sara Fulton, late of Seaford, Delaware and New York City.

It seemed an age before I reached Maxil's suite where a pacing Jokan
waited. He looked at me sardonically, the muscles along his jaw working.
I handed him the slates and he glared down at them as if they, too, were
enemies in the alliance to keep him planet-bound when all his soul
wanted to be in space with the fleet. He handed one slate back to me
brusquely.

'That one's for Ferrill, not me,' he said with no courtesy. He scanned
one quickly and placed it in his belt. The other he read, his frown
deepening. He glanced at me twice during the reading and then sat down.
His anger drained out of him and a hopeless impatience took its place.

'Oh, sit down, Lady Sara. I won't eat you,' he said kindly, seeing me
still standing in the same spot.

I sat down and promptly burst into tears, gulping out apologies as I
sobbed. He leaned over and roughly patted my shoulder, muttering
reassurances. When I didn't stop, he fetched a drink and made me get it
down.

'Patrol issue,' I choked.

'Of course, we're pretty lucky,' he said with no prelude. 'Harlan's the
most brilliant commander we've ever had. We're better prepared for this
sort of thing than ever before in our history. Never thought there would
be a Prime again, but we've got it and there's no panic. It's not as if
the Mil were able to swoop down on us with no forewarning the way they
used to. It could be a lot worse, you know. We could have Gorlot as our
Regent and I bet we might just as well skin ourselves if he were. But he
isn't. It's Harlan and he'll save our skins if anyone can. Because, my
dear brother's lady, right now we can annihilate the Mil in the sky.'

It was not the words he said but the way he said them that stopped my
senseless weeping; I looked up at him in amazement because there was
triumph in his voice; a certainty that exceeded the trivial phrases of
his verbal assurance.

'I hope so,' said a wry voice from the doorway. We both turned to see
Ferrill there, supported by two men. 'I'm being conducted to the
Vaults,' he said, indicating the escort with amusement. 'Coming?'

Ferrill's smile, oddly mocking, made his old-man's face younger.

'There's really no need for me to be bulwarked by all the ingenuity of
the Vaults. The Mil wouldn't bother a wreck like me,' Ferrill continued
amiably. 'I gather,' and his face grimaced ruefully at Jokan, 'Harlan
has made you stay behind to guard the sacred persons of the Warlord's
progeny. You've worked as hard for this contingency as he. Pity you
can't witness it. But I'm glad it's you that's here!' Fen-ill's
sincerity reached Jokan through his bitterness.

'It is my honor, sir,' he replied in a neutral voice, but the bow he
made the ex-Warlord was deep and respectful.

Jokan indicated I was to precede him to the Hall. I hesitated at the
doorway so that Ferrill might precede me as I felt his due. He bowed
slightly and I continued. We made our way to the down-shaft through
hurrying people who stopped and stepped aside respectfully to let
Ferrill's party pass.

'Nuisance to be sent scurrying down so early,' Ferrill commented as we
reached the shaft, 'Nothing will happen for a day or so.'

'True,' Jokan conceded, 'but they have activated the spatial tank below
and set up the remote connections there rather than in the Council Hall.
It's more reassuring to the general public to vault themselves anyway.
Too much has happened to unsettle them. They fancy themselves more
Tanes, I'm told.'

'Hmm. That's reasonable,' Ferrill replied thoughtfully.

When we reached the cellars of the palace, we passed a six-foot-thick
section of wall that would swing up into place, closing off the entrance
to the Vaults beneath the palace. Huge guards saluted as we passed this
impenetrable lock.

We walked down a short corridor to an enormous, low-ceilinged room where
partitions blocked off working, resting and eating areas. The busy
occupants spared Ferrill a grave smile or bow. The next corridor was
doubly sealed by more six-foot sections. The precautions were so
formidable I wondered what kind of attack armament the Mil mounted which
could penetrate such fortifications. Maybe the effect of the doors was
more psychological than necessary.

'I haven't been in the Vaults in years,' Ferrill remarked. 'I often
wondered who dusted them and how frequently.'

Jokan gave a mirthless snort at such a fancy while I surprised myself
with a genuine laugh at such drollery.

We paused before a final heavy door and were admitted by guards into the
innermost section, the retreat of the Council and the Warlord's family.

The huge room, which appeared to be as large as Starhall, was dominated
by a spherical tank some ten feet in diameter. I did not have the chance
to examine it because Stannall approached us from one of the cubicles
beyond. He bowed gravely to Ferrill, glanced at me curiously and clasped
Jokan's arm in welcome.

'Sir Ferrill, your quarters are prepared in Room Seven. I regret you
must share them with your attendants and your brother Fernan but…"

Ferrill shrugged off the inconvenience and excused himself. He rested
more heavily on his helpers although he had moved along the public
corridors with a semblance of vigor.

'I had not expected the Lady Sara,' Stannall said severely.

'Lord Harlan has claimed the Lady Sara in my presence,' Jokan said
bluntly. 'I have, here, an alternate commission of Regency,' and Jokan
handed over the slates to Stannall, 'as well as Harlan's official record
of claim and acceptance.'

The First Councilman glanced quickly through both, scowling at me again
with intense irritation.

'Very well,' Stannall acknowledged sourly.

'You mean my appointment as Regent,' Jokan said pointedly.

'No, of course not. I approve of that heartily.' He looked up, conscious
of Jokan's stare. I had not exactly expected Jokan to come to my
defense, particularly against Stannall, so his attitude was very
reassuring. 'My congratulations, Lady Sara. I know the Lady Fara will be
glad to see you.'

'Did Maxil…' Jokan began.

'Fara accepted the honor,' Stannall said quickly.

'Congratulations all around then,' Jokan said with a wry smile.

'Maxil claimed Fara?' I repeated, hoping that at least one area of
irritation might be erased between Stannall and me.

'Thank the mother of us all for that,' Jokan muttered. 'Room Four?' he
asked and when Stannall nodded, he drew me off to the side where I saw
numbered doors, closed against the noise of the main room.

'There is much for me to order, Lady Sara,' Jokan said, opening the door
for me.

'And I am tired.'

A droning voice muttering unintelligible syllables in a room beyond
penetrated my sleep and woke me, startled, in an unfamilar darkness.
Frightened, I lay still until the mounds of shadow became
distinguishable as Fara, Linnana and two empty beds.

The drone continued and I had been so startled on awakening that my
ability to sleep was gone. I rose and stumbled across to the bathroom.

The lights of the main hall and the muted conversations that blended
under the theme of the droning voice were a shock after the dim quiet of
the sleeping room. I stood in the doorway, looking over the bustle for
Jokan or Ferrill. Stannall was standing in front of the cubicle that was
his office, his slight body slumped with weariness. While he talked to a
Councilman, his eyes were fixed on the space tank and the measured tread
of the blips within it. There were few in the room who did not glance
frequently at the tank, frequently and apprehensively.

I located the drone as issuing from one of the twelve big screens at the
top of the room. A communications man was talking, calling off sector
units and parsec figures. In turn, clerks noted down these figures at
tables that circled the screen and tank area. From the other big hall
messengers came and went, officials in patrol uniform or Council robes
met and conversed quietly in the linking corridor. Their voices were
pitched lower than that continuous drone.

Jokan came striding down the corridor and up to Stannall. Ferrill,
walking slowly from Stannall's office, joined them.

The Councilman who had been talking to Stannall bowed and moved away.
Jokan was arguing and Stannall was objecting, shaking his head
dubiously. Ferrill added a sentence and Stannall regarded the ex-Warlord
with a long scowl. The three of them moved over to the tank and Jokan
pointed, scribing a circle with his hands and indicating its position in
the spatial reference. A messenger came up and handed Jokan a slate.
This had a bearing on his argument because he pointed out several lines
for Stannall to read. The First Councilman shrugged, shook his head
again. When Ferrill added his comment, Stannall lifted both arms in a
gesture of exasperation. Jokan bowed formally and went to the main
communication screen, one that looked in on the giant refitted Mil ship
that was Harlan's command vessel.

My attention was abruptly diverted from Jokan by a touch on my arm. To
my concern, I saw Monsorlit standing beside me, regarding me with a cold
impersonal interest tinged with some private amusement.

'Lady Sara,' he said, making a mockery of the title with a flick of his
eyes, 'for a moron, you've made remarkable conquests. I've reread your
dossier and find it fascinating.'

'Moron? I'm no moron,' I said with all the disdain I could muster. I
turned from him, but his hand, as cold as his expression and as strong
as his personality, closed round my wrist.

'As I was saying, I have examined your history and I find it differs
considerably from the public version of your origin.'

'Against Harlan's word, what can you prove?' I demanded.

He smiled blandly, his eyes wandering over my face and body with
clinical dispassion.

'Against Harlan's word, I have the facts and witnesses. Facts that would
prove extremely interesting to the First Councilman, to young Maxil.
And, certainly to Harlan himself, unless you are more of an innocent
than you appear.'

'I don't know what you mean,' I gasped, trying to twist my hand free.

He looked down at my wrist, holding it up and stroking it with his
thumb. Then he glanced suggestively into my face. I had no strength to
hide the shock that gesture gave me.

The smile which was no smile cut across his thin face.

'You are unique, Lady Sara. Absolutely unique and as a serious
scientist, I cannot allow the originality to go unremarked. I intend to
have you back in the Clinic and I give you warning. You may come of your
own free will, explaining your request to your protector any way you
wish. Or, I will force you to come, by edict of the Council. I doubt you
like that alternative.'

'Physician,' said Ferrill's soft voice at my side. Monsorlit looked up
and bowed to the invalid.

'Do not overexert yourself in this excitement, Sir Ferrill,' Monsorlit
advised sternly.

'Exert myself? Oh, not likely. I have accepted the role of passive
observer. That requires no exertion at all.'

So saying, Ferrill neatly turned me away from Monsorlit and guided me
toward an unused table in the dining area. He motioned me to sit and
gave an order for hot drinks to the servant who appeared.

'Why does Monsorlit terrify you?' he asked quietly, his eyes slightly
narrowed.

'He's… he's so cold,' I blurted out, still trembling with the shock of
the encounter.

Fen-ill's eyebrows raised questioningly but, at this moment, the waiter
returned. I drank hastily, the comfort of the warm beverage dissipating
my inner chill. When I raised my eyes over my cup, Ferrill was regarding
me with curious intentness. He reached over and lifted my right hand,
turned it over and rubbed one finger across my wrist. I jerked my hand
away and sat staring at Ferrill in a sort of helpless horror.

Ferrill smiled to himself and then included me in that smile.

'Lady Sara,' he began with a rueful grin, 'for the short time you have
been in our circle, you have managed to elicit an amazing amount of
talk. You succeed in antagonizing one of the most powerful men on the
planet for some obscure reason and you stand in petrified terror before
our leading scientist. You appear out of nowhere in Maxil's keeping,
deliver me from evil, and now I understand that our noble Regent, who
has kept remote from all permanent entanglements, has claimed you as his
lady.' He shook his head in mock consternation. 'I can dismiss a good
ninety percent of the talk about you as the fabrications of envy. I have
a good idea of the basis for the antagonism, but I am at a complete loss
to explain the terror.'

I did not trust myself to answer him. Instead, I pulled out the slate
Harlan had given me for him and thrust it across the table. Ferrill took
it with a brief glance at the outer inscription and shoved it into his
belt.

'Surely it's not restoration that makes you fear Monsorlit. The
punishment is the same for the operator as the victim.'

I looked nervously around to reassure myself no one could overhear us.

'As I told Monsorlit,' Ferrill continued, 'I am merely an interested
bystander. I consider myself qualified to make all kinds of deep,
penetrating observations which, to project my new image, I like to think
are acute and perceptive. I have had much time for passive reflection,
you know.

'Monsorlit is a great artist, a genius in his field. He is interested in
achieving perfection, to which I say "well done". But he must have
allowed himself to be carried away with his zeal, if he can be said ever
to be carried away by anything.' Fen-ill's grin was a bit malicious.
'For he neglected one axiom of nature… which prohibits her from
duplicating anything… even two sides of the same face.' He stopped
and, narrowing his eyes, stared keenly at me. Pointing negligently to my
wrists, he continued, 'He was exceptionally deft in disguising the graft
joints. I gather he has done a great deal of work on that crucial spot.
But he made your features too symmetrical. If a mirror were handy, I
could easily prove that both sides of your face are the same, except for
your eyes. The left one droops a trifle at the outside edge. I wonder if
that irked him in his search for perfection,' and Ferrill chuckled.
'However, if he had been able to change that, I do believe he would have
ruined the total effect. That slight imperfection gives your face a
touch of humanity it would otherwise lack.'

I wasn't sure I understood all he was talking about. His tone was so
light, so conversational, that his disclosures were robbed of their
gravity.

'Still,' and he frowned thoughtfully, 'I doubt anyone has the time for
the close scrutiny my conclusions require. And, since Monsorlit has
conveniently done away with the one weak spot, the one detectable,
unmistakable weakness in a total restoration, what do you have to fear?

'I should say he has proved his point. And Monsorlit doesn't care for
the approbation of the multitude as long as he has satisfied his own
curiosity. As you know, he has always maintained that restoration itself
did not cause mental vegetation. As he expresses it,' and Ferrill
evidently did not agree completely with the theory, 'it is our ancient
fear and superstition that breaks the mind. He says we had so many
centuries of passive acceptance of death under the godlike Mil that a
man unconsciously wills himself to die when he is captured, whether his
body dies or not.'

His words began to make some reassuring sense to me and I started to
relax. After all, Harlan had said that Ferrill was the only one who
would or could understand and help me. Had he guessed that Ferrill knew
I had been restored? At least, Ferrill did not regard me with horror and
revulsion. I sipped my cup and the warm liquid ran down my throat,
spreading its comfort to my fingers.

'That's better,' Ferrill said with a grin. I realized he had been
talking as much to put me at ease as to tell me of his theories.

'I gather,' he continued, 'Monsorlit's new techniques of shock
treatments worked on you to bring you out of the mental death. You
certainly are a far cry from the ghastly parodies that gave restoration
its death sentence. I shall suggest to Harlan that he repeal that law
quietly if you're the result of the latest techniques of restoration. Or
should I say "repossession"?' Ferrill's smile mocked the semantic
hairsplitting. 'So you see, you don't have anything to fear from
Monsorlit. Anything.'

'But I do,' I protested. 'He wants me to go back to that horrible Clinic
of his. He said he'd make me if I didn't come willingly.'

'He can do nothing to you,' Ferrill said blithely. 'For one thing…
well, Harlan knows you've been restored, doesn't he? Well, he won't
permit it.'

'But… if Harlan doesn't…' I stammered and couldn't finish the
sentence.

Ferrill tapped his chest with a thin finger. 'Then I won't let you go
back. Oh, I may be a frail invalid, my dear, but I am still Ferrill,' he
announced, his voice ringing.

'I'm so terribly sorry…' I began but Ferrill waggled an admonishing
finger to silence me.

'At the risk of repetition, I owe you my life, Lady Sara, or whatever is
left of it. Besides, I wouldn't be very good at that sort of thing,' and
his gesture indicated the spatial tank. 'Now, Maxil, as is the habit of
younger brothers, has always been a scrapper. You never saw a boy keener
on spaceships. Right now, if he isn't free-fall sick, he's having the
time of his life. By the way, there's Harlan on the screen now.'

I rose hastily, peering over the obstructing partition for the best view
of Harlan. I ignored Ferrill's chuckle.

Harlan was addressing his remarks to Stannall, Jokan and the elder
Councilmen, continuing an argument that must have been going on for
several minutes.

'Sir,' said Harlan, stressing the title as one whose patience is also
stressed. 'I know it hasn't been tried before. But neither have we had
the equipment or the emergency. I insist, and so do my commanders, that
the gamble is worth the game. We are fortunate that so many of our ships
were equipped with the electromagnetic crystals during my disability. We
may thank Gorlot for that at least,' and Harlan permitted himself a wry
smile at the shocked distaste occasioned by his remark.

'That is enough to make me distrust that innovation completely,'
Stannall said stiffly, looking for agreement among his fellow
Councilmen. Several of them sided with him by their nods of disapproval.

'You forget, sir,' Jokan put in, defending a system he had
developed,'that it was Harlan's innovation, a development of war
research under my guidance. And you forget that it was Fathor who
thought the Ertoi planetary defense mechanism might be adapted to
shipborne armament. Gorlot was at least strategist enough to recognize
its value as a weapon when no one else considered it more than a toy.'

'Sir Harlan,' expostulated Lesatin pompously, 'a decision of this
magnitude cannot be made in so off-hand a manner.'

'By my Qan Mother,' Harlan exploded, 'your own committee of specialists
approved the installation of the magnetos two years ago, Lesatin. Why
all this time-consuming chatter? I've not asked for your decision. I've
already made it for you. I'm telling you what I'm going to do. The
battle plan remains as I have outlined it.'

'The responsibility,' Stannall said forcefully, 'of the people lies on
our shoulders, too, not yours alone. Your disregard of time-proved
successful action…'

'Time-proved in the jetwash,' snapped Harlan impatiently, 'life-wasting,
you mean. The resonant phenomenon produced by the electromagnets can
crush the Mil with greater personnel safety, less risk and loss of ships
and lives than any improvement in our battle tactics since we refitted
the first Star-class ship. By all that lies in the stars, I will use the
resonant barrage if we have to form before Lothar itself.

'What you grandly ignore, good sirs, in your preference for these
time-proved orthodox methods is the plain and simple fact that we've
never had such a concentration of Mil against us. You ignore the
recorded facts that it takes the concerted action and an eighty-five
percent casualty of twenty ships to disable… with luck… a Star-class
vessel. We have fifteen out there in the black speeding toward our puny
four Stars. And whether we form before Lothar or at the first circle of
defense, the casualties from your "time-proved tactics" will be the
same.'

Jokan had been writing furiously on a slate. He passed the results to
the most disturbed Councilmen. They grouped around him, their voices
rising in the excitement his figures aroused. Harlan glanced down at the
confusion, at first with annoyance, until he saw the change of attitude
in these skeptics.

'We are approaching communication limit. If I don't come back, you can
skin me in effigy. If I do, it will be as a victorious commander and
we'll debate the ethics involved. In the meantime, Jokan has as many
answers as I since he's been in charge of the project. You have the
benefit of his talents and I do not. Jokan, get it into their thick
heads, will you?' Harlan urged. 'I'll beam you at zero hour and, unless
you like the noise, you'd better cut the sound on all screens,' he
warned.

'You technicians got the spatial coordinates now?' he asked the clerks
in the banks around the tank. They raised right hands in reply. Harlan's
eyes left the immediate foreground and scanned the space above the
Councilmen's heads. I made myself as tall as I could in the hope he
might be looking for me, but the expression on his face, set, cold,
tired, did not change. The picture began to waver. Harlan looked off to
his right in the control room, then back to the Councilmen.

'We're at the limits, sirs. My respects to you all,' and the picture
dissolved into blurs.

The droning voice had ended, too. The big room was strangely silent for
what seemed a long, long time. As if everyone found the quiet
unbearable, everyone began to talk at once. The Councilmen turned on
Jokan with intense expressions and garrulous queries. Messengers began
to move back and forth around the room. I sat down, confused by all the
discussion and disheartened by its tone. Ferrill appeared disinterested
and I drew some courage from his attitude.

'What was that all about?' I asked, abandoning any pretense of
knowledge.

My request did not surprise Ferrill. He leaned forward, planting his
forearms on the table comfortably as he enlightened me.

'The Ertois are workers of crystal and quartzite. They had developed a
primitve form of energy, electricity, they called it, long before the
Mil descended on them. Our force screens are an adaption of their
electricity. They discovered, by what freak chance I don't remember,
that the Mil cannot stand electrical currents or sonic vibrations. They
ringed their planet with gigantic electromagnetos, activating them in
case of Mil attack. The metal of the Mil ships became a conductor and
the Mil were electrocuted. Now, we had to figure a way to adapt this
principle to use in space. Sound doesn't travel in the vacuum, of
course, but regulate the frequency of the electromagnetic radiation and
you produce a resonant phenomenon in the ship hulls that literally tears
the Mil cell from cell. Ironically, though the Mil are much larger than
we, they are easy victims to a weapon that we can endure.

'My father was very interested in this application of resonators. You
see, we've never had an offensive weapon. That's why our casualties have
always been so high. The only advantage we have had over the Mil in
battle has been our ability to take higher accelerations and make
sharper maneuvers. It's a pretty slim advantage.

'This project has been going on for several decades. It's been expensive
and was discontinued when Father died. Council had an attack of
conservatism and the Mil were quiet on the Rim. Harlan reinstated the
project under Jokan who is one of our few creative geniuses.

'The reason our skeptics have been so upset is that they have never seen
what the resonators can do to a simulated Mil protoplasm. I have seen it
and, granted it was under ideal laboratory conditions, the results were
incredible.' His eyes narrowed. 'There is a minor theory going around,
which I am inclined to support, that Gorlot used the resonators to herd
the Mil into Tane. It's the only way he could have managed to control
their direction.'

'Why didn't Harlan mention that?' I asked. 'Didn't he know?"

Ferrill shrugged. 'Where the Mil are concerned, logic is sometimes
useless. Particularly right now. Look what's happened. The Mil have
actually been allowed past the Perimeter. They have been allowed to wipe
out an entire race. For seventy-five years, they haven't been able to
penetrate the Pum defenses for more than a few parsecs.

'Our ancestors were used to the menace of the Mil in their skies. As
accustomed as one is able to get to such a thought. But we aren't.
Stannall may be our leading Councilman and a very intelligent fellow,
but the mere thought of the possibility of the Mil coming back into
Lotharian skies turns him into a quivering mass of ancient fears and
superstition. And Harlan has just blithely assured him that he will wait
to reform before Lothar itself in order to test this new weapon!'

'Why does he have to wait?' I asked confused.

'Because, Lady Sara,' Ferrill explained patiently,'the beam attenuates
with distance, losing its strength. The maximum effect is gained at
close quarters - spatially speaking - from an encirclement, so that each
resonator is equidistant from the target, setting up the resonating
phenomenon at maximum efficiency.'

'If they can't encircle?' I asked, perceiving some of the dread with
which Stannall and the others received Harlan's gamble.

'The usual tactics, only we will have a ringside seat,' and Ferrill
gestured heavenward.

'What are the usual tactics?' I insisted.

Ferrill regarded me seriously for a moment.

'You really don't know, do you?' he remarked with amazement. 'We have
discovered only two ways to dispose of a Mil ship. Both are dangerous to
the attacker because we lack an offensive weapon other than speed and
maneuverability. We must either knock out their control room, which
means a close-range assault with nucleonic weapons that match theirs, or
we must make a direct hit on their fuel source. The first is preferable
because it leaves us a new recruit for our fleet… after
decontamination, of course. The second method blows up the ship.'

'You heard Harlan mention eighty-five percent casualties, didn't you?'
Ferrill continued and I nodded. 'He means just that. There are only four
Star-class cruisers in our fleet, eighty-five planet weight and forty
satellite variety plus about fifty rider suicide ships. Figure out your
eighty-five percent against a force of twenty-three Mil ship, fifteen of
them Star-class, and you can see why Harlan is going to gamble on our
new offensive weapon.'

My mental arithmetic was not up to estimating the odds, but eighty-five
percent was obviously a Pyrrhic victory.

'Back in my great-grandfather's day, we once had a force against us of
one Star-class, four planet and a satellite. We had, at the time, eighty
ships. Nine returned. We disabled two planet-types and the satellite.
That was the biggest force we have ever attacked until now. The Mil
usually send a group of planets and satellites. With their consistent
losses in this area of the Great Starry Wheel, you'd think the Mil would
have left us alone long ago.'

'You mean some of their ships still get through?'

Ferrill looked startled. 'No! We destroy enough so that they retreat.
But there is always a terrific loss of life for us.

'To knock out the control room, a suicide rider with nine men must
approach to maximum penetration range of the nuclear missiles. That's
about one hundred land miles. That's too close to a Mil, believe me. The
ships are nothing but speed and one long cannon. Their success depends
jointly on the skill and diversionary tactics of the pilot and the
accuracy of the gunner. Very often, the suiciders are crushed by the
impact of their own blast. All too often, the Mil gunners get the range
first. And sometimes,' and Ferrill shuddered,'the riders are grappled
and pulled inboard. Even if we do disable the Mil ship, those men are
lost.'

'Why?' I asked without thinking.

Ferrill clicked his tongue at me. 'One, if the men haven't as yet been
touched, they've gone mad by the time we reach them. Two, if they have
been skinned, Council's edict about restoration makes euthanasia
imperative.'

'Skinned,' he had said. I had been'skinned', alive! I fought the rising
nausea and the shaking that gripped my diaphragm.

'I'll wager that's why!' Ferrill said with a note of triumph in his
voice.

'Why what?' I managed to say, pushing to the back of my mind his last
words.

'Why Monsorlit tied in with Gorlot'; and he leaned forward so that our
conversation could not be overheard. 'Gorlot knew some ships and men
would fall into Mil hands. He had to have someone to make perfect
restorations on the victims so they would seem to be no more than Tane
casualties. And Monsorlit went one step better. He pulled those
restorees out of shock so there could be no suspicion whatever of the
men having been Mil victims. To prove his point, Monsorlit would take a
far greater risk.'

'I'll tell Harlan you're trying to dishonor his claim,' said Jokan's
voice behind me.

Ferrill grinned up at his uncle with a deprecating laugh. Jokan pulled
up a chair and signaled a server.

'Did you manage to reassure the skeptics?' Ferrill demanded with an
affectation of disinterest.

Jokan shrugged expressively and threw the slate he carried toward
Ferrill who cocked his head sideways to read the slate without having to
pick it up.

'The odds are favorable,' he said with some surprise. 'Even if a trifle
close to home. Don't they see that?'

'What they see is the space tank and the proximity of the Mil to
Lothar,' Jokan scoffed. 'I believe the older one gets the more the fears
and superstitions we should have abandoned centuries ago cloud the
thinking.'

'Don't they realize that the older one gets the less valuable he becomes
to the Mil?' Ferrill pointed out cold-bloodedly. 'No fat. No meat. No
smooty hide.'

Jokan did not hide his distaste of Ferrill's observation.

'I'm not concerned,' he said stiffly. Then grinned as he added, 'But
then, I'm under the largest pile of reinforced rock and metal on the
planet. I also remind myself what the resonators can do to the Mil…"

'Under ideal laboratory conditions,' Ferrill inserted maliciously.

'Under ideal laboratory conditions,' Jokan assented without rancor,
'which Harlan, with the reinforcement of the Ertoi and Glan, can
reproduce.'

'If the Ertoi and Glan arrive in time,' Ferrill amended.

Jokan's eyes sparkled angrily. 'Are you through qualifying the odds
against us?'

Ferrill flashed a look at Jokan but thought better of what he was about
to say and hitched one shoulder negligently.

'I'm realistic, my dear uncle. Also I find an element of humor in the
situation.'

Jokan snorted with disgust at this observation.

'Your humor was never so warped before, my dear nephew.'

'Nor was my life,' Ferrill added quietly, then added too brightly,
'Monsorlit has been frightening Harlan's Sara.'

'Ha. He's in no position to frighten anyone. Stannall's after him again.
Monsorlit had best look to his own defense. And you have the strongest
protection, Lady Sara,' Jokan said stoutly.

He had finished his quick meal as we talked and now rose.

'You two can exchange insults if you wish,' he said as he glanced at the
large time dial above the space tank, 'but there are precisely eight
hours and thirty-two seconds before encirclement and I intend to use it
in sleeping. I relinquish our mutual ward into your safekeeping,
Ferrill.' He bowed to the ex-Warlord and then to me, with a touch of his
old insouciance, and departed.

'He's sure about Stannall being after Monsorlit?' I asked hopefully.

Ferrill shrugged. 'Stannall has been after Monsorlit for years. Never
did know why. Some old quarrel. Stannall has a capacity for grudges that
is astonishing.'

'Didn't I hear Jokan call you nephew?' I asked after a pause.

'He is, after all, my uncle.'

'Well, why isn't he a candidate for Warlord, instead of Maxil?'

'He and Harlan are only half-brothers to my father, Father. But you
should remember that only my father's line can inherit under the old
laws. If Father had died without issue, and he certainly waited long
enough to claim his lady, it would have been different. It's a pity,
too, because Jokan shows the real Harlan strain.'

'Doesn't Harlan?' I demanded, piqued.

Ferrill chuckled and I realized his omission had been intentional.
'Obviously. But Harlan's real mission in life is to find more and more
new planets. The Tane success went to his head. He's got jet-itch.
Besides he's got nowhere near the deviousness of Jokan.'

'Then,' I demanded, confused by the intricacies of Lotharian
governmental structure, 'Why wasn't Jokan made Regent instead of
Harlan?'

Patiently Ferrill explained that Harlan had been a Perimeter Commander.
Jokan had never reached that rank nor intended to. Unfortunately, such
military experience was the prime requisite for the Regency.

'Is that how Gorlot got in instead of Jokan when Harlan was drugged?'

'Naturally,' Ferrill assented, his eyes glittering angrily. 'The system
has too many faults and this affair should make it obvious to the
Council that a revision of the old laws must be made. We are too
hampered by age-old superstition and pre-Perimeter contingencies.' He
snorted derisively. 'It's absurd to assume that only a direct descendant
of the original Harlan can lead us to victory over the Mil. It's
ridiculous to bind the genius of modern military tactics to planet-bound
traditions. Just like that argument over there!' and he indicated the
group of Councilmen arguing vehemently around the space tank.

'Would they really censure Harlan for disregarding them?'

'How can they?' Ferrill scoffed. 'At the moment, he is Warlord. That's
why he was picked as Regent, in the event of a military emergency an
inexperienced stripling could not handle. His plan is law: it's just
typical of Harlan to wish to have Stannall's agreement. It is preferable
to have the First Councilman agree with you if you are Regent or
Warlord.'

He rose abruptly.

'Jokan's suggestion is contagious. We've hours yet before the crucial
test of Harlan's revolutionary tactics. Sleep passes time admirably. But
first, join me for a glance at the tank?'

Ferrill and I stood a little removed from the others. He rightly assumed
I needed an explanation. The science behind the tank's projection he did
not bother to expatiate. Its physical presence, however, was awesome
enough. It was composed of an amber, transparent liquid or gas with no
apparent material enclosing its circumference. It stood ten feet high
and wide in the center of the room it dominated. A coil of wires at its
foot was the sole connection to the machines and computers that formed a
semicircle at its base. Beyond them, built obliquely from the ceiling,
were the now blank screens. Only one panel on the boards below the
screens was active, the master panel to which each ship in action was
hooked. If the light which identified the ship went out, the ship had
been destroyed. The technician could also tell by the color variation
and pulsations the extent, in theory, of damage to any given vessel. At
the computers the clerks were still busy. In all the room, no one's eyes
stayed long away from the mesmeric quality of the slowly moving masses
in the tank.

Guardedly, Ferrill indicated Lothar, a green ball in the approximate
center of the tank. Above and beyond were Ertoi in blue and Glan's
yellow. Below and away from the other three systems was the red of the
two Tane planets.

From Ertoi and Glan, lancing downward and bypassing Lothar were the
light points of the Alliance ships, speeding to their rendezvous with
Lothar's fleet. Beyond Ertoi and Glan, I saw eight tiny points of light
at regular intervals; far, far apart. Ferrill said they were the
skeletal Perimeter Patrol that would be all Glan would have to defend it
from the Mil if they broke through. Ertoi relied still on its sonic
barrier.

'Why doesn't Glan have it, too?' I asked, thinking that would have freed
eight more ships.

'They never considered it necessary with the protection the Alliance has
afforded them up till now.'

Speeding out from Lothar and converging from other points around the
remaining quadrants of the tank was the fleet, moving not as swiftly as
the Alliance ships but as inexorably. From the bottom of the tank,
approaching with what I thought appalling comparative speed were'the
invading lights of the Mil. The alarm of the Councilmen was no longer a
verbal fear that Jokan's assurances and Ferrill's amused air could
dispel. It took no technician to estimate how near to Lothar that battle
would take place. And the Mil's ominous approach was aimed at the
equator of the seemingly doomed Tanes.

'Would the Mil land on one of the Tane?' I asked.

Ferrill shook his head in a quick negative response.

'The Mil would never land with such a force approaching them. They could
be blown off a planet and our casualties would be light. We overused
those tactics a few centuries ago. No. They'll meet Harlan in space.
They're pretty contemptuous of us in space, you know. I doubt they'll
remain so long.'

We watched, as others did, in hypnotized silence as the blinking lights
made their almost imperceptible way. Finally, Ferrill touched my arm
lightly and we both retired to our sleeping quarters.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
---------------

Contents - Prev / Next

A gentle tickling on my feet roused me. The room was lit and I could see
Ferrill grinning mischievously as he gave my foot one last brush.

'I used to wake Cherez like that and she'd throw a fit,' he grinned. 'I
thought you'd like to be in on the fun. Harlan's brave gamble is about
to start.'

I scrambled out of the cot, took time to dash cold water in my eyes and
comb back my hair before joining Ferrill. I wouldn't have needed
Ferrill's comment to know that the climax was at hand. The entire room
watched the screen, some standing on chairs or desks for better views of
the all-important spatial tank. The computers were silent. Conversation
was limited to terse low whispers. The tension, fear and apprehension in
the main room was like a physical blow after the sleeping quarters.
Ferrill had paused at the threshold and we both drifted through the
watchers until we found Jokan. He was standing behind Stannall and
Lesatin. Jokan looked around irritably as I brushed against him to make
way for Ferrill. He gave us the sketchiest of acknowledgements before
turning back to the tank.

I had to make myself look at the sphere. Its story dried up the saliva
in my mouth. I was certain the pounding of my heart would be audible.

Tane had been bypassed. Empty space separated the struggling Lothahan
space fleet from the home planet. The blips of light that were our
defenders resembled a tiny crystal string of beads thrown casually on a
jeweler's velvet around a pendant of twenty-three bright diamonds in
random pattern. The beads circumscribed no circle; one end, the Ertoi
and Glan contingent being too far out to complete even the roughest
circular formation. Fen-ill's groan was not noted by anyone.

At first I wondered why the Mil would let themselves be even so loosely
encircled. Then I remembered that the Mil in space would wreak terrible
losses, so they could be arrogant about our puny trap. I watched the
beads, still loose, but slowly, slowly perfecting their circle. They
drifted at the same time with such snail slowness toward Lothar. Ertoi
and Glan became stationary, being uppermost to Lothar; below and beyond
it, I could see the barely larger blips that were the four Star-class
Lothar battlewagons in their major compass-point positions. The pendant
moved inexorably and the rear quadrants moved still closer, the uneven
beads gradually gradually settling into a rough circle.

I had been so fascinated with the fleet movement that I had not noticed
the movements of the Mil pendant. Once a mass of light, it now began to
lose its compactness and to string out into a rough line.

Jokan groaned and twisted his tense body in an unconscious effort to
punch the Mil ships back into their former position. Stannall covered
his face for a moment, with a shaking hand. When he turned to Jokan, I
was aghast at the exhaustion and hopelessness of his expression.

'That maneuver, doesn't it decrease the effectiveness of the resonant
barrage?' he asked, hoping to hear the contrary.

'It depends, sir, it all depends.'

'On what?' Stannall demanded fiercely.

'On how much our men can stand the backlash from the electromagnetos
that generate the resonance. If we can saturate the Mil ships with
enough force, their belated dispersal means nothing.' Jokan clenched his
jaws grimly. 'I wish we had had time to develop effective shielding for
the power-bleed. At the moment,' he continued in answer to Stannall, 'we
can be sure of this section being completely paralyzed,' and his finger
stabbed at the center of the Mil pendant. 'Partial disability on either
end and, with luck, our normal tactics can take care of the rest.'

'If they string out farther?' Stannall dragged the words from his mouth.

'The decrease in total disability is proportional. Individual
engagements increase.'

Stannall's expression was desperate and his lips, thinned by fatigue to
white lines, closed obdurately over his teeth.

We waited. Glances at the time dial were more frequent. It lacked by a
few moments of the hour set for the barrage. Jokan was counting off
nervously to himself and someone else on the other side of the room
counted out loud. I was not the only one to mouth the seconds in
concert.

Zero hour!

The tank remained unchanged. I don't know what I expected to happen. How
much of a time lag there was between the ships and the tank I didn't
know but the next moments or minutes seemed eternities.

A new voice broke the stillness. Glancing up I saw that a patroller was
standing before the master panel that checked the condition of the
ships. His voice, dispassionate and measured, brought us no consolation.

'No casualties. Two minutes and no casualties. All ships functioning.
Three minutes and no casualties.'

No casualties, my brain echoed. What an odd war. Bloodless, remotely
fought, remotely observed. Would death, too, seem remote to the dying?
Fear, however, was not remote. It laid lavish hands on everyone in that
room, on everyone, I was sure, on those ships and on the planet of
Lothar.

'No casualties,' the drone continued.

The intervals between his litany lengthened and suddenly, unable to
watch the unchanged picture longer, Stannall whirled on Jokan.

'Nothing has happened. How long does it take?' he cried in tense,
strident tones that echoed through the fear-filled room with piercing
audibility. Someone started to sob and stopped, choking the sound back.

'The maximum vibrations for the Mil should build in no less than six
minutes,' Jokan said tonelessly. 'The beam is played across the ship for
maximum effect. We count on the fact that the Mil cannot initiate
evasive tactics at high acceleration speeds as we can. The longer they
remain within the effective range of the beam, the quicker the resultant
destructive resonance is reached.'

Someone was counting the seconds again. Still the formation of the
ships, all the ships, remained the same, a circle of beads tightening
slowly around the menacing gaggle of Mil ships. The man had counted to
ten minutes past the zero hour before a voice, in the anguish of
waiting, shrieked for him to stop. The circle of beads tightened,
drifting ever upward toward the system of Lothar.

'It isn't working, that's what's wrong,' a beefy Councilman snapped, his
voice trembling. 'That puny electricity doesn't work. Fathor stopped
that research. He must have had a reason. They don't work, that's what,
and we'll all...

'All ships functioning,' the official voice, calm and deliberate, broke
in. 'No casualties.'

'Look, look,' someone cried, gesticulating toward the tank.

The string of beads was breaking up, splitting into smaller circles,
driving for the ends of the Mil line.

'They're using the suicide ships now. The resonators didn't work at all.
We're lost. The Mil will be here,' a man beyond Stannall blubbered.

Stannall strode to his side in three swift paces and, although the
fellow was younger and heavier, the First Councilman fetched him four
sharp cracks across the face and turned defiantly to face the room.

'If the Mil should come, we will be ready with the courage and fortitude
which have brought us so far along the road to freedom from their awful
raiding. Let no one else forget his valiant heritage.'

'One suicide ship casualty,' the announcer droned. 'All others
functioning.'

On the tank, a small expanding glow appeared and then one bead blinked
out. One light obediently darkened on the master panel. But the tank
also told another story. The mid-section of the Mil line proceeded
unharried by the ships which concentrated their efforts on the ends. The
tiniest blips flashed in with unbelievable speed compared with the
lumbering efforts of others. The upper end reflected a brief glow and
the announcer tallied another casualty.

"They're attacking only the ends,' someone cried in dismay. 'The rest
are coming straight at us.'

'NO!' shouted Jokan, his voice ringing with triumph. He sprang to the
side of the spatial tank. 'The mid-section is totally disabled. The
resonators did their work. Look, would that big a detachment allow the
others to be attacked without firing? See, here, here and here, our
positions would be vulnerable to their range and yet there are no
casualties. I tell you, that weapon works. It does. It does! And see,
there's one of the lead Mil ships going up.'

One of the larger Mil lights at the head of the line flared and died.
The announcer gave us no death notice for a defender.

'See what Harlan is doing,' Jokan continued excitedly. 'We have plenty
of time to disable the far end. He's tried two passes with the riders to
the foremost Mil and is blasting them out of the sky. That means they
must be partially disabled. No Mil will set down on Lothar!' His words
rang through the big room and set off a cheering, shouting, weeping roar
of hysterical relief.

Jokan, grinning so broadly his face seemed to split, tears in his eyes,
looked around, thrilled at the sight of hope where despair had so long
enervated morale.

I, too, was caught up in the emotional backlash, weeping not so much
with the relief of salvation as with the knowledge that Harlan would
return, in honor and unharmed. The fear of the others did not touch me
as deeply, I suppose, because I had not lived with fear of the Mil all
my life. Vicariously I was caught up in that joyous hysteria until I
noticed Stannall. He was clutching wildly at his chest. His face was
gray, his lips blue, his breath shallow, eyes pain-filled and he grabbed
wildly at me in his weakness.

Glancing around for someone else to help me, I was even grateful to
Monsorlit who must have seen Stannall's seizure from across the room.
The physician was fumbling in his belt as he pushed through the milling,
shouting, jumping men. He reached us, jammed a hypodermic needle into
Stannall's arm and smoothly reinforced my grip around the First
Councilman.

Jokan, aware of Stannall's distress, pushed through and lifted Stannall
easily into his arms. Bawling for passage, he carried the ailing
Councilman to his sleeping room. Monsorlit ordered me to get his
instruments from Room 21 and I ran with no respect for dignities.

When I returned with the case, Stannall was pillowed into a sitting
position. Although he was sweating profusely, his breath came with less
effort. Monsorlit grabbed the bag I opened and seized a stethoscope
device. Jokan was joined by Ferrill now. Monsorlit's examination
relieved him, for he gave a barely audible sigh and reached with less
haste for his bag. He picked a vial carefully, filled a new needle and
administered the medication.

'Good sir,' Monsorlit said in such low tones only I could hear,'there
are too few of your fiber for us to be deprived of you. This time you
will have to listen to me.'

He rose from the bedside and, as he turned, I caught the flickering of
the only expression I ever saw on Monsorlit's face. It was the more
astonishing to me, this combination of fear, relief, worry and
compassion, since there was no doubt of Stannall's trenchant disapproval
of Monsorlit. The physician glanced at me briefly, his features composed
in their usual coldness. He passed me and motioned all of us out to the
corridor.

Ferrill and Jokan, instantly the door closed, demanded the diagnosis
with impatient concern.

'A heart attack,' Monsorlit said dispassionately, replacing his
stethoscope with care, rearranging a vial or two precisely before
closing the bag. 'Natural enough with such intense strain and inadequate
rest. I've administered a sedative that should keep him asleep for many
hours. He must be kept absolutely quiet for the next weeks and complete
bedrest is indicated for the next few months. Or, we shall have to elect
a new First Councilman. I believe Cordan is his personal physician. He
should attend our Council Leader immediately. To reassure all of us.'
Monsorlit permitted himself the vaguest of wry grins at his
afterthought.

'But Stannall's presence is…" Jokan began, gesturing toward the tank.

'…is required in his bed and asleep,' Monsorlit finished with bland
authority. 'I do not care what duties he leaves unfinished. There are
certainly enough qualified men to make decisions until Harlan returns.
Unless, of course, you wish to commit Stannall to the Eternal Flame
tomorrow?'

With that, Monsorlit turned on his heel and walked away.

By now the jubilation had subsided sufficiently for the drone of the
announcer to be heard. The score of casualties had mounted, but only
nine lights were out on the master panel. Two flickered weakly, eight
pulsed, but the strength of the light indicted only minor damage. Jokan,
after a glance at the picture in the tank, strode across the room to the
knot of anxious Councilmen. Stannall's collapse had been noted as well
as the exchange between Jokan and Monsorlit.

'I think,' commented Ferrill thoughtfully,'that the situation is now
under the efficient control of Jokan. Will you join me for some
refreshment, Lady Sara?'

'Shouldn't someone stay with Stannall?' I protested.

'Monsorlit seems to have taken that into account,' Ferrill said and
directed my attention to the brisk figure coming from the farthest
sleeping rooms. The woman, a large, efficient-looking person, stopped at
Stannall's door. She opened it with a quick practiced gesture and
entered. A pair of guards simultaneously took positions on either side
of the door.

There was little time for Ferrill and me to refresh ourselves. Food and
drink grew cold before we could eat. Ferrill, though no longer Warlord,
still had all the knowledge of his former position. He was, furthermore,
privy to the confidential matters of the high position and the offices
of both Regent and First Council-men. In this emergency he set aside his
affectation of disinterest and made quick, clear decisions, gave orders
with an easy authority that controlled the quicktempered and calmed the
hysterical. Messengers crowded around the table, waiting turn.
Councilmen oppor-tuned and only Jokan could claim precedence. The little
people, too - messengers and technicians - stopped to ask about Stannall
or say something, shyly, to Ferrill.

Ferrill remained cool and detached, casual and unconcerned by the rush.
At first, he answered the Council-men's and Jokan's questions with a
little self-amused smile. But gradually, I could see the grayness of
fatigue conquering the slight color in his face. I urged him anxiously
to rest.

'Rest? Not now, Sara. I want to know every detail of the stimulating
events. I shall record them in a personal history I shall now have time
to write. The firsthand impressions of an ex-Warlord about an emergency
and triumph of this magnitude will certainly carry historical weight.'

'If you're not careful, the only historical weight you'll carry is a
fancy monument,' I snapped.

He regarded me with the expression he had used so effectively on
Monsorlit, but I was too concerned for him and stared him down. He
changed his tactics and reassured me that he knew the limits of his
strength.

'I have made no move from this table. I let everyone seek me.'

'I thought you didn't care anymore. I thought you were just going to be
the bystander,' I goaded him.

His eyes flashed angrily. Then he smiled in recognition of my baiting.
He reached for my hand and pressed it firmly.

'I am still the bystander, shoveling out bystandorial advice by the
shipload. But I am the only one who can answer many of these questions
in Stannall's absence. Jokan certainly has no practical experience as
either Warlord, Regent or First Councilman, and he is all three right
now.'

I made one of the messengers go for Monsorlit who appeared just as Jokan
also reached our table. Jokan did not care for Monsorlit's presence.
Ferrill's smile mocked me for my interference.

'Ferrill is exhausted,' I said before Ferrill or Jokan could send
Monsorlit away.

'Give me a shot of something salutary,' Ferrill commanded the physician,
proffered his thin, blue-veined arm, daring Monsorlit as well as Jokan
and me.

'All of you need stimulants to keep on at this pace,' the man observed
quietly and issued us five tablets apiece. 'An effective compound but
harmless,' he continued as Jokan eyed the pills dubiously. 'One every
three hours will be sufficient. I do not recommend taking more than
five. That gives you fifteen more hours of peak efficiency. Then no one
will have trouble getting you to rest.'

He moved off briskly. Ferrill took his pill down quickly and Jokan,
shrugging, followed his lead. I waited and then saw Ferrill watching my
indecision with such amusement I tossed it down waterless.

'I never really know what to make of him,' the ex-Warlord commented to
no one in particular.

Jokan uttered a growling sound deep in his throat and then launched into
the reason for his coming to the table.

Monsorlit did not underestimate his potion. It did keep us going for the
next fifteen hours. I watched Jokan and Ferrill as their eyes
brightened, reddened and teared with fatigue, knowing I was no better
off. Jokan took to shouting for me if he could not come to us and I
became a liaison between Jokan and Ferrill.

As I listened to conversations concerning the resumption of the planet's
normal activities, the hurried rearrangements of landing facilities and
refueling schedules, I watched the tank. Everyone did. And I, too, did
not push the announcer's assessments of the casualties from my conscious
hearing. On the tank, I saw the mid-section of the Mil fleet continue
blindly on its course for nowhere while Lothar picked off additional
enemies. I watched as the helpless section was set upon by a double row
of our vessels, turned into a new course as Ertoi and Glan pilots
penetrated to the control rooms and altered the courses for the naval
satellite bases and the one planetary space installation in the southern
sea. Landed, decontaminated, the ships would ultimately be refitted and
recommissioned into the Alliance force. I saw other Mil ships join this
passive group. I saw a Lothar squadron drop down and turn toward the rim
of the spatial tank, taking up Perimeter positions until it seemed that
the tank was lightly sprinkled with diamond beading on its periphery. I
watched as the main body of the fleet turned homeward, catching and
passing the convoy of cripples, pushing on toward Lothar. Then I, too,
turned my hopeful attention to the screens, waiting for the time when
the communication limit was reached and we might have a detailed
description of the victory from her triumphant commander.

Of the great navy that had set out to meet the invader, only twelve were
not returning, a statistic which brought another wild burst of
exultation. Of the twenty-three invaders, once arrogant and feared,
nineteen were carefully shepherded toward exile. Never, never, I heard
it shouted, has so great a victory been achieved in the annals of
recorded history. And, to crown this feat with more glory, fourteen of
the fifteen Star-class ships had been taken.

Now we waited, as we had waited for particular moments so often these
last violent days, for the screens to reflect the images we wished most
to see. So tensely was the first ripple anticipated, a concerted gasp
echoed in the room when the picture was abruptly before us, clear and
unmuddied.

It was Maxil we saw; a Maxil as changed as only a boy can be who has
abruptly survived a brutal initiation to manhood. His voice, harsh with
fatigue and physical strain, broke the communication silence. Harlan was
nowhere in sight.

'Men and women of Lothar, I bring you victory. I bring home all but
twelve of our valiant ships. I bring you news of an offensive weapon
against which the Mil have been powerless. The day is not distant when
we can reach out and find the home of these vicious marauders and
destroy them forever.'

But where is Harlan? I whispered to myself.

Maxil paused and licked his lips, glancing off to his right. Then he
smiled and continued.

'I am not responsible for this victory. I doubt any of us would have
returned today if it had not been for Harlan. He's done the impossible
today. He has made the Mil fear MS. All Lothar must recognize their debt
to him.'

A cheer, as loud and sincere as it was spontaneous, sprang from the
throats of the watchers as Maxil pulled a reluctant Regent to his side.

I could see how tired Harlan was, his shoulders slumped down even as he
tried to hold himself erect. His ship-suit was mottled with a white
dust, and it was torn at the sleeve. I saw no sign of damage in the
control room, but other officers coming and going in the background wore
torn or burned tunics as well as bandages. But Harlan was all right.

'I don't see Sir Stannall, my lord,' Harlan commented.

Maxil peered out at the crowd and frowned. Jokan stepped forward and
formally bowing to the young Warlord, explained the circumstances. Jokan
continued to advise what had been done, Maxil and Harlan both
questioning and advising further steps.

I don't recall much of what they said. I was content to look at Harlan
and know he was safe and coming back. The multiple perils that
threatened were dispersing: Gorlot's perfidy, the Mil, and now Stannall
was sick. He couldn't resume his deadly questioning so I needn't fear
his drive for revenge on Monsorlit. I only had the physician to deal
with and Harlan would never let him overwhelm me. A weary exultation
filled my tired body. Even the ghastly announcement that Gorlot, chained
to the Rock for the Mil as their traditional first victim should they
arrive, had been hacked to pieces alive by hysterical Lotharians, did
not touch me.

The reprieve from fatigue granted by Monsorlit's pellets expired all at
once. I was weary to the very marrow of my bones. I turned from the
screen that no longer held Harlan. Ferrill had fallen foward across the
table, unnoticed by anyone. I touched his hand, fearfully. It was damp
with perspiration, but the slow pulse was steady in his wrist. I sat
looking at him for a little while, I think. Then it occurred to me that
I should get someone to take him to bed, but I didn't have the energy to
open my mouth to call. So I put my head down on the table, too.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
-----------------

Contents - Prev / Next

I did not see the victorious return of Lothar's flagship. Nor did I see
the triumphant parade of Maxil and Harlan back to the palace, I did not
see Maxil publicly acclaim Fara as his lady from the balcony of his
apartment. My presence there might not have been appreciated by the
public. I did not see Harlan and that I cared about. I should have given
him a proper soldier's welcome. But I was dead to the world and so were
Ferrill and Jokan. Monsorlit had threatened the servants with dire
vengeance if they did attempt to wake us.

What finally awoke me was, as usual, hunger. What roused me was the
unfamiliarity of my surroundings. The dim room appeared to be all wrong
to my sleep-dulled faculties. For one thing, the balcony was to the left
of my bed instead of to the right. For another, the window hangings were
a deep crimson. The furnishings, the heavy chairs and chests, were the
wrong shapes and there were enormous shields on the walls, their
metallic designs picking up what light there was. A gentle snuffling set
me bolt upright in the bed reaching for the light panel in the
headboard. The soft glow fell on Harlan's sleeping face and I
immediately waved it off. Exhaustion was etched deeply on his face. He
had fallen on to the bed, still dressed in the torn, creased shipsuit.
His right arm dangled in the air above the floor and his right leg was
off the bed entirely.

I hoped he had seen me before he fell into unconsciousness, that he at
least knew I was here, where I belonged. It worried me that he might
have felt I slighted him by not being a part of the welcome he was
certainly due.

My eyes accustomed themselves to the dim room and I looked down at the
tired warrior. How often I'd looked at his sleeping figure in the
asylum, wondering what he was realiy like. I certainly had had more of
his unconscious company than was necessary. There was so much I wanted
to know about this man. One day, we would both have to make time to be
together when both of us were awake, in the same room, at the same time.

My hunger could no longer be denied. I eased out of the bed, a needless
caution with Harlan in the depths of the deepest sleep of exhaustion.
He'd wake soon, uncomfortable in that awkward position, I decided.
Placing his arm across his chest, I turned him so that all of his body
was supported by the bed. I removed his boots, loosened his shipsuit and
covered him.

I found the bathroom and discovered that my clothes had again followed
me while I played suite hopscotch around the palace wing. I dressed
quickly and went out into the next room.

This was a study, deserted but apparently well-used by Harlan to judge
from the clutter of slates and film cans. As I reached the door in the
far wall I heard the subdued mutter of voices.

'I received my orders from Harlan himself,' an irate man in patrol
uniform was saying to Jokan who had placed himself between the patroller
and the door to the study.

'Harlan is not to be wakened,' Jokan was saying firmly. The Patrolman
saw me at the door and tried to edge around Jokan.

'Lady Sara, is the Regent awake?'

Jokan gave me a quick high-sign.

'No, sir, he is not! Nor could anything wake him. He is completely dead
to the world and will be for some hours more, I'm sure,' I said with a
firmness that matched Jokan's.

'My orders were definite,' the poor officer kept insisting desperately.

'I'm sorry, sir,' I replied unapologetically. 'But I cannot feel that
there is any matter so urgent that it needs the attention of an
exhausted man. Surely Jokan here, who is alternate Regent…'

The officer was adamant.

'No, my orders are for the Regent only.'

'Well, you may certainly join us while we wait,' Jokan suggested
amiably. He took the officer by the arm and led him, resisting all the
way, to the far side of the living-room.

The two Councilmen and Jessl at the breakfast table rose as I
approached. Linnana came bustling in from the pantry, wreathed with
smiles and looking very well pleased with herself. She greeted me
effusively and set my hot cup down in front of me.

'Hungry, Sara?' Jokan said with good-natured raillery.

'I still have several weeks of eating to make up,' I replied tartly.
'And I don't think I ever will.'

'You missed all the excitement,' one of the Councilmen said.

'A matter of opinion. The Vaults were exciting enough for one lifetime.
I was never so tired in my life as I was last night,' I declared.

Jokan exchanged amused glances with Jessl and Linnana giggled.

'You mean the day before yesterday,' Jokan corrected me.

I stared at him, suspecting him of teasing. But everyone else was
grinning at my disbelief.

'I was very tired,' I repeated emphatically, refusing to be annoyed. 'No
wonder I'm so hungry. I've missed eight meals,' I exclaimed suddenly.

Even the thwarted officer joined in the laughter.

'Don't worry. There are films to be seen.'

"Then when,' I asked with concern,'did Harlan get to bed?'

'Approximately six hours ago,' Jokan said with a nasty look at the
officer who squirmed on his seat uncomfortably. 'He and Maxil got in
about sixteen hours ago. The rest of the fleet keeps trailing in.' He
continued, nodding toward the crisscrossing of plume trails in the sky,
'Harlan and Maxil were touched, patted, kissed by everyone in Lothar.
I'm surprised the noise didn't wake you.'

'Barbarous not to let him rest sooner. He must have been weaving for
lack of sleep,' I exclaimed, outraged. 'Why wasn't I wakened? I'd've…'

'We had our orders about you, too,' Jokan laughed, his eyes dancing
wickedly. 'From Monsorlit.'

I hastily covered the initial start his name gave me.

'Did you explain to Harlan why I…'

'Several times,' Jokan assured me dryly. Jessl snorted his disgust. 'He
insisted on seeing both you and Ferrill. But he woke me up!' Jokan
looked so sour I couldn't help laughing.

If I hadn't been so shocked by the fatigue in Harlan's face, I would
have taken pity on the officer during the long hours that followed. He
sat stolidly, watching the door and waiting. Not all Jokan's cajoling
could budge him from his post or elicit the message he brought. We
finally gave up.

About noontime, Maxil came in. He looked tired still, the shadows of his
grueling experience lurking in his eyes, but his step was resilient. He
gave me a glad smile and took both my hands in his, squeezing them
affectionately.

'We missed you. Harlan was fit to be tied,' he said. 'Made everyone wait
while he checked with Monsorlit about you and Ferrill. Oh, and Stannall,
too. Did you know about Fara and me?'

'That's all I heard about the first day in the Vaults,' I said.

'Yes, I guess so,' and Maxil, although he looked sheepish, did not
blush. We had strolled over to the balcony, apart from the others.

'That Marian's got real nerve,' Maxil said quietly, slamming one fist in
the palm of the other hand, imitating his hero. 'You know, he waited and
waited to throw on the resonators until we were so close to Lothar even
seasoned spacers were green. And then, those resonators,' and Maxil gave
his head a respectful shake, drawing his breath in with a hiss. 'You
don't expect to be able to hear again. And it's not exactly a noise…
it's a whine inside your skull that jars your teeth loose.' His eyes
briefly reflected the pain he had endured. 'And when it stops… it's
like there'll never be any noise again in the world.' He shook his head
and added with a smile, 'But he did it and we'll never have to fear the
Mil ever again.

'You know, it's funny how things work out. Gorlot had those
installations made on every ship we had in service. But, if he hadn't
used them during the Tane business, we'd've got every single ship
without a casualty of our own. Every time I remember I ate in the same
room, breathed the same air as that… that unrestored unprintable did,
I get sick. Sick.'

His choice of adjective had the same effect on me. I tried to fasten my
thoughts on Maxil's explosive maturation. For he was no longer an
adolescent. He had found himself in his baptism under fire. I think
Ferrill was wrong when he felt that Jokan was the only one who showed
the true Harlan strain.

'Have you seen Ferrill yet?'

'Oh, yes,' Maxil assured me solemnly. 'Just come from there.' Then he
grinned at me broadly, a touch of the boy showing. 'He said you were
marvelous, Sara. When Stannall collapsed, when everyone was running
around cave-hunting, you were so calm and controlled.'

'Ferrill gave you a description of himself, not me,' I laughed,
nevertheless flattered. I wondered if Ferrill might be indulging in some
subtle sarcasm. 'He's recovered? He had no business working under such
pressure for so long. I was very worried about him.'

'No. He's… he's… Ferrill,' Maxil ended lamely as suitable comparison
failed him. 'Say, what's Talleth doing here? He looks as if he's sitting
on… something hard.'

I tried not to giggle as Maxil changed phrases mid-sentence.

'He keeps telling us, every hour on the hour, that he has orders to
report immediately to the Regent. He has some burning message he'll only
give to Harlan. And we won't wake Harlan up.'

'You shouldn't,' Maxil agreed. 'He sent me off not long after we managed
to get through the crowds to the palace. I was asleep before I could
kiss Fara.'

He beckoned to Talleth who, after a quick glance at the study door, rose
obediently and came over.

'What's the problem, Talleth?'

'I was given a commission by Regent Harlan,' Talleth began patiently.
'When I had accomplished it, I was to report directly to Lord Harlan.
I've been waiting for five hours and ten minutes, sir.'

'When did Harlan get to bed, Sara?'

'Approximately ten hours and ten minutes ago,' I replied keeping my face
straight.

'He'll be up soon, then,' Maxil said easily and, nodding to Talleth,
indicated he could resume his post.

I thought Maxil was just saying that, so no one, except Talleth, was
more surprised than I when fifteen minutes later, Harlan himself opened
the door to the study.

He swept the occupants of the room with a swift glance, smiled briefly
at me but held up his hand as I started to come to him. Instead, to my
chagrin, he beckoned Talleth into the study and closed the door.

'Close your mouth,' Maxil suggested in an aside. 'I guess he really did
want to see Talleth after all.'

Ignoring the slight as best I could, I hastily ordered Linnana to get
warm food. Maybe Harlan was annoyed with me because I had been asleep
when I should have been there to greet him. Linnana interrupted my
nattering by asking what she should order for the Regent's breakfast. I
realized I didn't know what Harlan liked to eat. Certainly the asylum
fare was no criterion.

'Plenty of meat, he'll be hungry,' I temporized.

Whatever business Talleth had with Harlan, it was brief. The officer
exited, saluted Maxil respectfully, glanced at me with a worried frown
and left the apartment. Harlan did not appear.

Hot food came up from the kitchens and no sign of him. It was too much
for me. Trying to appear casual, I went through the empty study to the
bedroom. Just I entered, he emerged from the bathroom, buckling on a
uniform overtunic.

'Harlan, are you… displeased with me?'

He gave a little laugh and came over to embrace me, his face slightly
damp, smelling cleanly of soap and fresh linens. 'No, you please me
tremendously, except when you keep my officers waiting.'

He released me quickly, for I was left standing, kissless. He strode
over to the big chest to one side of the study door and rummaged through
a top drawer, stuffing several objects in his belt pouch.

'I'm hungry,' he announced, his smile making his words an intimate
reminder.

'It's hot from the kitchen,' I assured him as he ushered me out to the
living-room.

Although he had reassured me verbally that he was not displeased with
me, it seemed he was not at ease somehow. As if he held himself from me
purposefully. As if there were something between us, separating us. With
Jokan and Jessl, Maxil and the two Councilmen as well as the servants,
it was impossible for me to pursue the subject of my unrest or set it at
ease.

Harlan pulled me to the chair beside him at the table but, as he talked
to the others, cheerful, rested, he never once glanced at me. He gave
Jessl some instructions about putting their fastest Star-class ship in
readiness for a long trip. He all but pushed Jessl through the door to
get him started on the assignment.

Once Jessl had left, he turned earnestly to the two Councilmen.

'I appreciate your waiting on me like this, although I had expected to
be awake long before this hour,' and he shot a humorously accusing
glance at me.

'I did it,' Jokan interposed, taking full blame.

`I'd've preferred you returned the compliment I paid you when I got in,'
Harlan said so caustically Jokan looked surprised. 'However, Talleth
brought me word I hoped against hope he would have. For the first time,
we have captured, intact, Mil star maps, complete with primary notations
and time symbols.'

Jokan and the Councilman exclaimed excitedly and leaned forward eagerly
as Harlan continued.

'I don't say we now have the route to their home-world. It is impossible
to tell whether they were on an outward or inward orbit. The holds were
barely half full,' he added, dropping his voice and swallowing. I guess
I wasn't the only one who looked ill. There was no longer any question
in my mind what those holds carried.

'However, I believe it is important for us to retrace their route,
starting from the notation that is the Tane group and working backward.'

The sound of a planecar right on top of us made me glance up startled.
Talleth was at the controls. He secured the craft to the landing balcony
and stood waiting.

'I have a quick trip to make, gentlemen, after which I will explain
myself in greater detail. If you will excuse me,' and Harlan rose.

'You have to go right away?' I murmured, deeply disappointed. I was
positive now there was something separating us.

'Will you come with me, Sara?' Harlan asked. There was a quality, a
pleading in his voice, that I had never heard before.

'Certainly.'

The fact that he wanted my company, coupled with his unsettling look,
was not altogether reassuring. But, perhaps during the flight I would
have time to get to the bottom of the problem.

This aim was soon thwarted completely when I realized that this plane,
fast as it was, was also small. Talleth, stolidly piloting, was no
father away from me than my outstretched arm. This was scarcely the time
or place for an important private discussion.

The trouble with public life, I thought bitterly, is that it is so
damned public. If I had to put up with six years of this while Maxil
grew to his majority, I would be a frustrated woman.

Harlan's unaccountable nervousness was obvious in many ways as the trip
progressed. He kept up a superficially agreeable conversation, inquiring
about the events after the attack, the reactions of the most skeptical
Council-men once the resonators were proved effective.

'Where are we going?' I asked as casually as I could when our forced
conversational gambits were exhausted.

'To Nawland," Harlan said crisply.

'What's that?' I persisted.

I obviously should have known because Talleth jerked his head as if to
look at me, but changed his mind and kept facing the instrument panel.

'The Space Research Station,' Harlan answered in a tone that brooked no
further questions.

But my own terrible worries were more than I could contain, even faced
with his unresponsiveness.

'Is Monsorlit there?'

Harlan looked at me, startled. 'Of course not. He has absolutely nothing
to do with this.'

I was too relieved that Monsorlit had not made good the threat he had
made in the Vaults. The fleeting impression that Harlan considered
Monsorlit a lesser evil than the installation at Nawland did not occur
to me until later.

A taut silence settled in the little cabin. Marian's jaw and the feeling
that he had again withdrawn from me were inhibiting to the point that
all I felt free to do was stare out the window at the sea.

We were flying swiftly over a long tail of islands in shallow water. In
the distance, a smudge across the horizon, loomed the purple shadow of a
land mass. Above it, a lance against the darkening evening sky, I saw a
rocket blast off. Several miles away was another airborne plane, heading
toward our mutual goal.

The sight of a fishing boat, similar to the one Harlan and I had escaped
in, sent a stab of pain through me. I blinked back the tears that came
to my eyes at the memories that sail evoked. Sitting in silent sorrow, I
waited passively for this journey to end.

Space Research Station conjures a picture of purposeful activity,
launching pads, half-erected gantries, waiting spaceships. But Talleth
circled round the island, away from just such a scene, coming in across
a quiet cove to an almost deserted strip of slab rock and sand. Two
enormous hulls, all their airlocks open like terrible wounds to the
setting sun, rested untended on the strip. A smaller rocket was parked
to one side of the giant ship Talleth hovered near. Both he and Harlan
peered out their side of the plane, searching for something. I noticed
that Talleth's face had a greenish tinge and he was sweating profusely.

Then I noticed there were huge tubes, several feet in diameter, plugging
the entrances to three of the locks. A variety of equipment, tubing and
wires, was carefully stacked against the curve of the huge ship's hull,
half observed by shadow.

'Number Three,' Harlan muttered savagely.

Wordlessly Talleth guided the plane down the length of the ship to an
open lock, tubeless, in which stood three tall Ertoi figures, one
beckoning to us.

Talleth set the plane down, the sweat pouring off his face. It hadn't
seemed that the plane required that much effort to fly and the
temperature was mild.

'I must ask you to come, Sara,' Harlan said in a terse, hard voice.
Glancing at him, I was startled to see he, too, was sweating and
constantly swallowing. He opened the plane door. An awful smell
overwhelmed us and I coughed wildly to clear my lungs of the stench.

I heard Talleth groan, but Harlan had a hand under my elbow and was
urging me out onto the sand.

'What's that stink?' I asked, covering my nose and mouth with a fold of
my tunic.

Harlan didn't answer. His face showed great distress. Relentlessly he
guided me quickly up the rampway to the open lock, the three Ertois
moved quietly aside to let us enter.

'This way,' one of them thrummed in an incredibly deep voice.

Harlan didn't answer and now I felt his hand trembling even as his
fingers took a firmer grip on my elbow. Now, I was scared, too.

'We have put samples in the nearest chamber,' our guide boomed hollowly,
his voice echoing and echoing down the long dim corridor. 'The others
have been disintegrated.'

The Ertoi stopped by an oddly shaped orifice and nodded his head gravely
to Harlan.

Harlan looked ghastly, the sweat pouring down his face, his jaw muscles
working furiously as he swallowed. He gave every indication of someone
about to be violently ill and mastering the compulsion by sheer
will-power.

The moment I stepped through that orifice a scream tore from me. Only
because the Ertoi and Harlan were holding me fast did I stay on my feet.
I knew why Harlan looked ill. I knew what that smell was. I knew where I
was. I was on a Mil ship and I had been in such a room before. I had
been in such a room and what I had seen there had sent my mind reeling
into the deepest shock.

'They do not look like you, the Ertoi say,' Harlan managed to say
between his teeth. 'I have to make you look.'

He and the Ertoi half carried me to the long high frame where several
sheeted mounds lay still. One of the other Ertoi very carefully pulled
back the top of the sheets and the first face was visible to me.

I didn't want to look down. But I had to. With that dread fascination
horrible accidents have for you. No matter how ghastly, you have to look
to assure yourself it is just as bad or worse than you have already
imagined. He was Chinese or at least some Oriental… his race didn't
matter beyond the fact that he had once lived on my planet. I was
propelled to the next victim and this was infinitely worse. Because it
was a blonde girl with the fresh misty complexion of an Englishwoman.
Her hair had been shorn off close to her scalp and her face was
contorted in the horrible rictus of death. There was no skin on her
neck, only raw red flesh, the muscles and neck tendons exposed. I gave
the covering a twitch and saw, as I instinctively knew I should but
nevertheless had to confirm, that all skin had been flayed from her
body. Skin, golden skin, my new golden skin. I, too, had once been
flayed and… restored with golden skin. How much skin can a human lose
and live? I stood swaying, my eyes unable to leave her face until I spun
away to retch in deep terrible spasms.

I knew it was Harlan who picked me up and carried me out of that charnel
place, I felt skin not scales under my hands as I struck out wildly,
intent only on inflicting pain on him who had led me, all unwitting,
back into horror. I must have acted like a madwoman, shrieking, flailing
with arms and legs. Then the pressure around me and in me was relieved
as I felt the tart freshness of uncontaminated air around me and the
smell was gone from my nose and throat and lungs. I was conscious of the
sound of surf, the unlimited sky above me and then a sharp prick in my
arm.

A scaly hand thrust an aromatic under my nose, but it only caused my
stomach to heave again.

A hand, gentle for all it was scaly and hard, held my head as I vomited,
stroking my streaming wet hair back from my face.

As the convulsive dry retching subsided, I became aware that I was
propped against the scaly leg of one of the Ertoi. Another Ertoi was
shielding my face from the brilliant sunset, his saurian face kind and
compassionate as he bathed my face and hands.

Beyond my line of vision, I could hear someone else being violently ill
and the thrumming voice of the third Ertoi talking quietly.

I don't know how long it took before we recovered from the experience
but it was already full dark when Harlan came over to where I lay, still
propped against the patient Ertoi, too weak and spent to move.

'Are they people from your planet, Sara?' Harlan asked with sad
weariness.

'Yes.'

And I knew why he had subjected me to that horror. I knew, too, what
incredible courage it must have taken him to accompany me, knowing what
he would see, knowing what he must put me through, and unwilling,
despite the cost to himself, to let me go to that little death alone.

'You may proceed with orders, Ssla,' Harlan murmured.

One Ertoi saluted Harlan and then me and went back to the ship. In a
minute or so I heard the chirropp, chirrop of the planecar.

Harlan managed to get into the plane himself, but the two Ertoi had to
lift me in. Harlan held me in his lap, my head against his chest, both
of us too exhausted to move.

Talleth took off at top speed. He, too, had had more of that stretch of
Nawland than he could endure.

Whatever injection had been given me, the lassitude it produced spread
through my body. Although I feared for a sleep that might be punctuated
with the nightmare of revived terrors, I felt myself slipping without
volition into the black velvet well of unconsciousness.

The first thought that crossed my mind on wakening was that it wasn't
hunger that roused me. It was a soft light, diffused on the wall above
the bed. I turned my head to see Harlan, propped up, writing quietly but
quickly on a thin metal slate. It was the slip of the stylus across the
metal that had penetrated my sleep.

At my movement, Harlan turned, his expression anxious and hopeful,
changing quickly to a hesitant smile as our eyes met.

'You were so still. So deeply asleep…'he said.

'No, I'm all right,' I assured him, giving his hand a reassuring pat. He
caught my hand, squeezing so tightly I gave a little cry.

He put down his writing and turned on his side toward me, his eyes still
concerned.

'They have a saying on Earth,' I began, trying to lighten his mood,'the
criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. Then the law catches
him. In this case, it was the victim who returned.'

Harlan groaned and dropped his head down to the bed, hiding his face
from me.

'Frankly,' I continued, around the tightness in my throat, 'I think it
did the victim good. By all rights, I should have had horrible
nightmares and I didn't.'

Harlan grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me, his face twisted with
emotion.

'How can you forgive me? How can you ever forget what I have done to
you? Forcing you to face that unspeakable horror?'

'Harlan,' I said, 'You went with me. It must have been ten times worse
for you.'

He stared at me blankly, as if I had lost my mind.

'You're incredible. It must have been ten times worse for me?' he
repeated, shaking his head in disbelief at my words. 'For me? For ME!'
He gave an explosive snort of laughter and then hugged me so fiercely I
cried out. 'I'll never understand you. Never. Never.' And he began to
laugh, rocking me back and forth in his arms, laughing, I realized, in
sheer relief.

'Well, it wasn't very funny,' I reminded him, nonplussed at his
reaction.

'No, not funny at all,' and Harlan continued to laugh, softer now, with
silly tears coming to his eyes.

The strained look of worry had lifted from his face when he held me off
a little to look at me. His eyes and mouth held traces of his laughter,
but his look was intensely proud and possessive.

He brushed my hair back from my forehead tenderly and settled me against
him, my head on his chest.

'I have several things to tell you, Sara,' he began in a more normal
voice. 'One, I was honestly afraid you would wake mad or hating me. No,
don't interrupt,' and he placed a finger on my lips. 'I never expected
you to understand why I had to subject you to that ordeal. I said be
quiet,' and his voice was stern, more like himself. 'I had only a short
time to get you there for the identification. If you remember, I told
Jokan and the two Councilmen that we had discovered undamaged star maps
from which we could retrace the routes of the Mil. From certain
procedures we know they follow,' and he swallowed suddenly, 'Ssla is of
the opinion that their last touchdown was at the planet from which those
people came.' He held me tightly as I inadvertently began to tremble
again.

I took several deep breaths and nodded at him to continue, to ignore my
reactions.

'The Star-class I ordered Jessl to refit will carry Jokan and Talleth to
your own world with such help as we can give.' He paused and then added
in a low voice, 'I was going to suggest that you return with them.'

'You were going to.' I pushed away from his chest so I could see his
face.

'I don't want you to leave, but I felt, in view of what happened
yesterday, I owed you the choice. There may be someone on your world you
would prefer to be with.'

I turned in his arms, looking him squarely in the face. His expression
was grave but gave me no indication of his thoughts.

'Are you trying to get rid of me?' I asked, amazed at the hoarseness of
my own voice. 'I've made a pest of myself, I know. First I tag along on
that escape. You could have got away much faster by yourself.'

'But I don't sail.'

'And you should have left me at Gartly's. That would have made much more
sense.'

'True. But you'd not have encountered Maxil and got into the palace.'

'Where I caused Ferrill to collapse completely.'

'Which meant Council automatically convened, exactly what I hoped to
effect.'

'But I angered Stannall so.'

'And got yourself into an untenable position as Maxil's woman.' I saw a
flare of anger in his eyes.

'I got myself involved with everyone!' I said, sunk in miserable
reflection.

'Causing Harlan to complicate his own life unnecessarily by claiming you
before anyone else dared."

'I'll unclaim you any time you want,' I said wildly in my dejection.

'Do you really think I'd let you?' Harlan laughed, half frowning, half
smiling. 'I haven't known a moment's peace since you half starved me in
that asylum. For the sake of the clan mothers, do you love me, Sara?'

'Yes, of course. Isn't that obvious?' I gasped, astonished. 'I've been
madly in love with you since you propositioned me on the boat.'

His face relaxed into such an expression of tenderness and entreaty I
thought my heart would stop.

'Love me, Sara!' he commanded softly. His hungry mouth claimed mine in a
giving and taking that was complete fulfillment for us both, a release
from the uncertainties and terrors of the past few days and a promise of
richness and peace to come.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
----------------

Contents - Prev / Next

'I hate to wake you, Sara, but Jokan's pounding at the door,' said
Harlan's voice in my ear. I felt a feather kiss on my eyes. I stretched
with delicious languor as Harlan continued, 'and I want him in here
where we can be private.'

'Well,' I prompted agreeably.

Harlan, standing at the side of the bed, looked down at me quizzically.

'You have nothing on, dear my lady, and while he is my brother…" and
Harlan threw my robe in my face. 'Put it on. He's got to keep his mind
on what you're saying.' Harlan laughed at the face I made at him.

I drew the robe on and accepted the hot drink Harlan handed me before he
called Jokan in.

'You want me in here?' Jokan asked pointedly, glaring at me. I learned
later that such intimacy was unusual in Lothar where men were extremely
possessive of their ladies.

Harlan indicated Jokan should close the door. Shrugging, Jokan
approached the bed and took the chair Harlan pointed to.

'Well?' Jokan asked helpfully, looking from one to the other of us.

'Ssla discovered that the latest Mil victims," Harlan began quietly,
sitting down on the edge of the bed beside me, one arm loosely on my
shoulders, 'are people very similar to us. From certain indications,' I
noticed Jokan also swallowed rapidly, wiped his forehead nervously,'the
last planet was not far away. I want you, with Talleth as captain, to
take the Star-class command ship and retrace that route, establish
relations with these people and give them whatever scientific and
military experience we have to share. Provided,' and Harlan held up his
hand,'they will agree to joining forces with us to track the Mil to
their lair and destroy them.'

Jokan snorted, shaking his head at the orders his brother had given him.

'Just orbit in, in a ship no different from the ones raiding them, land
in the midst of the poor barbarians with their spears or swords and say,
look here, I'm friendly.'

I was conscious of Harlan's hesitation.

'Use one of the smaller rockets,' I suggested and Harlan's hand pressed
my arm in approval. 'You'll need it to get past the satellites and to
take evasive action against the nuclear missiles that, I assure you,
will be launched.'

'To get past what?' Jokan asked, blinking in surprise.

'The planet in question has atomic energy, has landed robot ships on the
moon and orbited its nearest space neighbors.'

Jokan glanced, wide-eyed, at Harlan for confirmation. Then turned his
incredulous blue eyes to stare at me.

'Oh, and we already have electrical power in quantities. So once you
explain the Ertoi defense mechanisms, I'm sure they can be put in place
very quickly. If someone hasn't worked out an even better defense
already.'

Jokan made an attempt to rise from his chair and then sat back, stunned.

'I came from that planet, Jokan.'

A look of horror replaced the surprise in Jokan's face and he turned to
his brother with an angry accusation. At first all I could trunk was he
was revolted by the natural conclusion that I was a restoree.

'You took Sara with you to Nawland yesterday?' he rasped out, his eyes
flashing.

Harlan nodded slowly.

'I had to identify the victims,' I said hurriedly, taut with strain for
his reaction.

'But you… you're… not…' and Jokan stared at me.

'Yes,' I said slowly, because Jokan's good opinion mattered. 'I am a
restoree.'

'Sara!' Harlan snapped, anxiously.

'No,' I countered, watching Jokan's face as he struggled with his
emotional reactions. 'I think Jokan should know. I don't like to deceive
him.'

Jokan continued to scrutinize me, not masking traces of revulsion
because he had them subdued quickly. He looked at me with great interest
and finally, rubbing his hands slowly up and down his thighs, he began
to smile at me.

'While I went into deep shock,' I continued hastily, 'not from
restoration, but from… what I saw, I came out of it gradually. That's
how I met Harlan. I must have been taken to Monsorlit's Mental
Defectives Clinic sometime during the early part of the Tane wars when a
Mil ship was disabled, either on Tane or in space. I guess Gorlot's
people thought me a Tane colonist. At any rate, there I was. When I
overheard Monsorlit and Gleto talking, I realized Harlan had been
drugged. And, well,' I ended lamely, 'you know what started happening
then.'

Jokan expelled all the air from his lungs in a deep sigh. He began to
relax, nodding his head slowly up and down.

'Well,' he said briskly, slapping his thighs,'that explains a great many
things, doesn't it?'

'It should,' Harlan agreed, a faint smile on his lips. I could feel he
was still tensely waiting for something.

'It's very reassuring to learn, however, that your people are not hiding
in caves,' Jokan remarked in a completely different tone of voice. He
rose, drawing a slate out of his belt pouch, and sitting down on the bed
beside me, asked if I could draw a map of my world.

The tension left Marian's body and I realized he had been waiting,
hoping that Jokan would do something of this order, proving that my
restoration did not render me physically revolting in his eyes. That he
had hoped Jokan, too, could put aside the conditioned reaction toward a
restoree.

'I'll be glad when you bring back paper,' I muttered, struggling
awkwardly with a stylus.

'What's that?' Jokan asked, sharply inquisitive.

'It is made of wood pulp combined with rags, pressed flat and thin. It
can be made quickly and cheaply and is much easier to write on.'

'Wood pulp, rags?' Jokan repeated. 'Doesn't seem very durable. I've been
using the pocket slate for years. Can you use the same piece of… what
did you call it… paper… for years?'

'Well, no,' I demurred, 'but you people are backward in a lot of other
things.'

Both Harlan and Jokan rose up in concerted protest.

'Just because you have space travel - which you inherited, you didn't
develop it - don't go looking down your noses at my world. We had to
start from scratch to get off our planet. There are plenty of things on
Lothar where it'd be better if you started all over again with a clean
slate.' I stopped, bemused by my pun. 'You see,' I told Jokan archly,
'we gave up slates a century ago.'

'All right, all right,' Harlan chuckled. 'Draw.'

I had the general outlines sketched in when a vagrant thought came back
to me.

'You know, getting you on Earth is going to be a problem,' I said with
concern. 'You're right in that you can't just touch down. Particularly
not in a Mil-design ship. You see, we have a radar network that would
spot you miles up and while I don't know what the Mil may have done to
the internal politics of Earth, you're sure to meet a barrage of nuclear
missiles. And a Star-class is just too big to miss.'

'The rider ships are not Mil-designed,' Jokan suggested.

'That doesn't mean they won't be shot at.'

'What kind of communication systems does your planet have? They must
have some if they are experimenting in space flight,' Harlan put in.

'Telstar!' I cried with sudden inspiration. 'Why you'd reach every
country in the world!' Then I got deflated just as quickly. 'No, I
wouldn't even know how you could jam it or interpose your broadcast on
it.'

'What is it?' Jokan prompted hopefully.

I explained as best I could and Jokan beamed at me patronizingly.

'We may still be using slate, dear sister, but in space we are
completely at home. It's a simple matter to locate this Telstar of yours
on our equipment, well out of the range of your radar screens and
defensive missiles. Interfere and use its transmission for our purposes.
That's an excellent idea.'

'Fine,' I agreed tartly. 'I grant you can do it. Then what?' I demanded
acidly. 'No one there speaks Lotharian.'

I couldn't help laughing at the expression on their faces.

'Now, get me a tape recorder and I will introduce you. I speak enough of
our languages to get across what I mean. The point is to get you down to
Earth and let the linguists take over from there.'

'Good,' Harlan put in, his face echoing his prideful pleasure in
possessing me. 'Sara has a curious habit of supplying our need. Did you
know she can sail boats?'

'I believe you've mentioned that, Harlan,' Jokan remarked with dry
testiness. It was my first indication, however, that Harlan had ever
mentioned me to anyone. He had seemed so concerned I shouldn't arouse
any attention at all.

'You can see why she's so important,' Harlan commented.

'Because she can sail?' Jokan retorted with an innocent look.

'I'm surprised,' Harlan continued, ignoring his brother, 'it hasn't come
up in conversation so far this morning,' and he regarded me
suspiciously, 'but I'm hungry. And I'm going to break my fast.'

'Why didn't someone say breakfast was ready?' I exclaimed sitting
straight up.

Jokan jumped to his feet. 'We'll all work better after eating. Less
snarling at each other.' And he grinned boyishly at both his brother and
me.

'Jo,' and Harlan stopped his brother with a hand on his shoulder,'do I
need to caution you about revealing Sara's Jokan shook his head solemnly
from side to side.

'She's just infernally lucky it was you,' he commented. 'But I'd suggest
that you in your official capacity as Regent, redirect Stannall's
campaign to put Monsorlit on the Rock as a collaborator. Sara could be
implicated.'

'Yes, the day the Mil invaded, Stannall was trying to get me to accuse
Monsorlit,' I added, and fear of the cold physician, never far from my
consciousness, returned. If Jokan had also noted Stannall's
preoccupation, I had not misinterpreted my danger.

Harlan put an arm around my waist comfortingly. 'I also know Monsorlit
and, despite everything I've heard, I don't think Sara has anything to
worry about from him.'

'Well, I'd rather find a deep cave I didn't need than not have one when
I did,' Jokan remarked pointedly and, turning on his heel, started for
the main room.

Harlan gave me another reassuring hug before we joined him.

There were just the three of us at breakfast this morning. A very
unusual occurrence in itself, for breakfast was the hour of the
patronage seekers or intense political conferences. The intimacy we
three shared was therefore an unusual and unexpected respite. Because of
Linnana and Harlan's servant, Shagret, we couldn't talk about Jokan's
mission. And, as soon as breakfast was over, the communicator lit up.
Harlan was called to meet the Councilmen in charge of Jokan's mission,
so he left for his offices in the administration wing to get the
necessary clearances.

Jokan and I retired to the study with closed doors and I taped a message
that he would, he assured me, be able to transmit over Telstar. I
started to give him a brief summary of our world history and decided it
was useless to predispose him. The menace of the raiding Mil might well
have consolidated and changed everything. Instead I spent the morning
giving him some basic English phrases and such terms as he might need to
effect a safe landing. I suggested that Cape Kennedy or the new Dallas
Space Center would be able to accommodate the huge Star-class ship. I
showed him these centers on my rough map, sighing at such inadequate
cartography.

It was as if a cork had been pulled out of me that had damned up my
Earth past. I talked and talked while Jokan listened, directing me
occasionally with questions about his own areas of interest. My work as
a librarian in a huge advertising agency had forced me to acquaint
myself with a broad index of references, so I had a thin understanding
of many facets of industry and technology. But I was painfully lacking
in the details he needed or wanted so that he groaned over the
tantalizing snips and snatches I held out to him. I talked until I was
hoarse. Then Jokan covered up his slates and announced he was going to
see what progress Harlan was making in ramming through the expedition.

Jokan was able to leave two days later, a big coup for Harlan who had
indeed rammed the clearance through any opposition in Council. He
attributed his success to the fact that Lesatin, thoroughly shaken by
the Tane disaster and the Mil penetration, was more than willing, as
Acting First Councilman, to expand the Alliance. Stannall, Harlan
remarked privately to me, would have delayed until he 'had given the
matter mature consideration'.

'However,' Harlan said with a grimace, 'I did have to agree to take a
committee of Councilmen to the Tanes to see first hand what has happened
there.' He covered my hands with his, smiling ruefully. 'I'd take you
along if I could…'

'I'm all right. How long will you be gone?'

'Two, three days, depending on how much convincing they take. And one of
them is Estoder.'

'I remember him from the Regency debate,' I said sourly.

'So do I,' Harlan remarked in a thoughtful way.

So he left and the first day I occupied myself with the mechanics of
getting my Council grant in order. The much bemedaled slate Stannall had
given me the day of the Mil invasion turned out to have considerably
more value to me personally than a mere official propitiation. Harlan
had read it to me and explained that I had been given a lifetime income
from three iron-producing shafts in Jurasse. Someday I would have to
inspect these but in the meantime this income was a tidy sum.

'It's enough for you to be comfortably placed if you were still
unclaimed,' Harlan explained, then his eyes twinkled wickedly. 'It also
provides that, if you die while you are unclaimed, the income devolves
to your issue until they reach their majority.'

I glared at him. I had a lot to figure out about the complicated marital
and extramarital and post-, pre-, and ante-marital mores of this world
where women are expected to produce children and no one asks who is the
father.

'However, you are very much claimed and I will provide for your issue,
making certain it is all mine.'

I held him off for he started to wrestle me and I didn't want to be
diverted quite yet from this subject.

'Are you rich, Harlan?'

'Yes, I guess so,' he said. 'I have the family holdings, of course, as
my mother is dead. There are the prerogatives and privileges of my
position. I haven't used much of my income and neither has Jokan. I had
intended,' and he grinned one-sidedly at me,'to finance a private
expedition. However, my lady Sara,' and his smile broadened, 'as usual,
chose to come from a very interesting planet so Lothar is the
outfitter.'

'Then, with that settled, I'll go out tomorrow and spend it all on my
back,' I declared.

'I like your back the way it is right now,' Harlan murmured and he
started to make love. A thrifty man, Harlan.

At any rate, while Harlan was on his way to Tane, I took my slate to his
estate agent. This gentleman, one Lorith, was very polite and helpful. I
was extremely pleased with myself that I made no blunders in our
interview over matters I should have understood. One thing, however, I
decided I must get Harlan to do immediately on his return from Tane was
to teach me how to write at least my own name. Lorith would start the
proceedings to secure the grant, but there would be many things for my
signature in a few days.

Consequently I was not in the least apprehensive the next morning when
Lesatin asked me to attend an informal meeting in his chambers.

I had not expected, considering the wording of his invitation, to see
the large committee room filled with Councilmen, including four of the
Elder Seven and a woman and seven doctors, by then- overdress. I was
also surprised to see Ferrill enter. He nodded at me and sat beside me
at one end of the large room.

Lesatin was scanning the faces of the assembled when Monsorlit entered.
I glanced, apprehensive for the first time, at Ferrill. He smiled
noncommittally and I settled back, reassured. As far as I could tell,
Monsorlit did not so much as glance in my direction. The woman, however,
constantly looked at me.

'We are met today to assess accusations made against Physician
Monsorlit,' Lesatin began in a formal opening of the session. 'These
charges included complicity with the archtraitor Gorlot in the genocide
of the Tanes; furnishing drugs capable of inhibiting and demoralizing
certain officials in our government and…' Lesatin glanced at his note
slate, 'illicit surgery.'

I pulled at Ferrill's arm nervously. Illicit surgery meant restoration.
Monsorlit was unruffled by these charges and Ferrill only patted my
hand.

Lesatin first called various hospital officials and technicians who had
been in charge of the victims taken off Tane. They testified that the
early wounded to arrive at the hospital were invariably in some stage of
paralytic cerolosis. Cerol, in unadulterated form, could produce total
paralysis of the body and its functions, resulting in death. Complete
and immediate blood transfusions would lessen its deadly effects, but
too often brain and nerve centers were affected. Monsorlit had developed
a series of cold and hot baths as shock treatments, a radical new
approach in Lotharian medical practice, to rouse the sluggish cerolized
areas. Two physicians who testified did not entirely approve of such a
rigorous course of treatment although they admitted Monsorlit's
techniques effected partial cures that were considered miracles.
Patients were able to do for themselves, perform duties and relieve
society of the burden of their care.

Yes, it had been Monsorlit's idea to place a hospital ship so near the
Tane planets for prompter care of the injured. No, they could not say
that any of the men appeared to have been restored. Of course, at that
time, no one looked for such evidence because no one had realized that
the Mil were in any way involved. Yes, they had heard Monsorlit use the
expression'repossessed' often. One surgeon had called him to account
because of the word's unfortunate similarity with the unpopular practice
of restoration. Monsorlit had replied that the men were actually
repossessed, repossessed of their faculties disabled by cerol.

Had Monsorlit practiced any total restorations since the edict against
it? Yes, two operations had been performed with official sanction on
burn victims in a satellite yard fire. What were the results? A
reconstruction so perfect as to defy detection.

I found myself unconsciously stroking one wrist and hastily clasped my
hands firmly together. Looking up, I was aware of Monsorh't's eyes on
me. He had caught my gesture and smiled slightly.

I knew then that he had merely bided his time. That I had been foolish
to think myself immune. I wondered if he had planned this trial to
coincide with Harlan's absence. I hoped desperately that someone else
beside myself could incriminate him; that his own preference for life
would keep him from disclosing my restoration.

Lesatin continued his investigation with further questions about the
illegal restoration.

Was it possible that total restoration could be detected? Only by a
check of cell coding within a month of restoration and, even so, there
would still be room for doubt.

Lesatin asked for an explanation of cell coding. It was so long and
technically detailed I paid no attention.

'I fail to understand its application to restoration,' Lesatin prompted
patiently.

Before restorations had been ruled illegal twenty-five years ago,
intensive research had tried to perfect ways in which a total body graft
could be undetected. It had been felt that the unsightly scars at wrist,
ankle and neckline contributed to the revulsion caused by restorees. A
high fever was induced in the patient by a virus injection for the
purpose of changing the cell coding of the body so that it would accept
new skin from any donor. The new skin would bond properly, assimilating
and overgrowing what original epidermis remained, leaving undetectable
the restoration.

Well, that explained the golden tinge to my skin, I thought. I'd
wondered how they'd accomplished that.

In cases of plastic surgery, this technique was often applied with
detection-defying results.

I managed to keep my hand from my nose.

Lesatin continued doggedly. Was it possible for any of the so-called
Tane wounded to have been restorees? Possible, but not probable, for the
men admitted to the War Hospital had been unquestionably suffering from
acute cerolosis. Most were now able to take care of themselves and were
employed in routine jobs. By common definition, they could not be
restorees, as it was well known that a restoree was incapable of any
independent action.

Crewmen on the hospital ship that Monsorlit had sent out were
questioned. They gave detailed descriptions of cases they had handled.
They confirmed in every way the information already given.

Lesatin paused and then asked several men how long they had worked for
Monsorlit. They had, without exception, been trained by the physician,
had served him since their certification and were, admittedly and
vehemently loyal to him. Lesatin dismissed them, having made a point.

From Lesatin's questioning and bland manner there was no indication
whether he was out to clear Monsorlit or convict him. But I knew clearly
what I would do. I would speak out against Monsorlit. I would tell them
he had perfected the drug that had been used on Harlan and the others. I
would tell them all I knew and remove Monsorlit from a position in which
he could threaten and terrify me.

Lesatin issued an order I didn't overhear and the side door opened to
admit a chained, shrunken, groveling Gleto, flanked by two strong
guards.

Lesatin turned to Monsorlit with an apologetic gesture.

'This is one of your accusers, physician,' he said. 'Gleto has sworn
that you developed the drug, cerol, into several compounds which were
used to depress Harlan, Japer,

Lamar, Sosit, to name only a few. That you were completely aware of the
perfidy against the Tane race and knew that the supposed casualties you
handled in your hospital were victims of the skirmishes with the Mil
ships. That you have actually performed illegal restorations to cover
evidences of Gorlot's treachery.'

Lesatin smiled deprecatingly and he was joined by the four Elders who
were plainly telling Monsorlit that the source of these accusations was
very suspect.

'Gleto has also gone on to insist that your personal fortune has swelled
to enormous proportions. That you have secretly continued your
abominable research on human beings.'

Monsorlit nodded calmly. It was well known that Gleto's personal fortune
had also swelled to enormous proportions. The physician arose and
presented a thick pile of slates to the first Councilman at the table.

'Sealed and documented records of all my personal financial affairs,' he
said. 'I beg pardon for such a bulky package but my income is heavily
involved with my experimental work at the Mental Clinic.'

Lesatin acknowledged this and motioned the Councilmen to examine the
slates.

'As to the secret and abominable research on humans,' Monsorlit
continued, addressing the Councillors, 'my colleagues will tell you that
some of my work is done in secret, behind closed doors and the results
are in locked files. That is the only way to protect the privacy of our
patients, some of whom are well placed in life, despite their inner
uncertainties. Yes, the research we have been conducting lately might
once have been called abominable, but the results have been a return to
health for many. Very often a medicine tastes abominably, but that does
not mean its efficacy is affected.

He spoke so glibly, his explanations so pat, yet nothing he had said
sounded rehearsed or insincere.

'As to my developing cerol compounds, I could scarcely deny so well
publicised a fact,' and Monsorlit smiled pleasantly. 'My laboratories
have been aware of its effectiveness… if properly and abstemiously
used… in restraining mental cases, in the stimulation of certain
muscular center, in… ways too numerous to list. It is a remarkably
versatile base for a wide range of uses. It will be some time before we
reach the end of its potentialities.

'But, as the man who invented our slates cannot control what we,
centuries later, write upon them, I cannot control the uses to which the
discoveries in our laboratories have been put,' and with a shrug
Monsorlit resumed his seat. Lesatin exchanged low comments with several
of the Councillors.

'Did you, physician, at any time suspect you were being used by Gorlot
to cover up his treachery against the Tane?'

That to me was the silliest question yet. But Monsorlit considered it
gravely before answering.

'I am not a politician, gentlemen, but a serious scientist. It was my
duty under Regent Gorlot to perform such services as he required of me
in my capacity as Head Physician of the War Hospital. If I had any
doubts as to the authenticity of the afflictions, I had little time to
pursue them due to the extreme pressure of work and the speed with which
it is necessary to treat acute cerolosis.'

'Does not acute cerolosis parallel the symptoms of restoration madness
in so far as the mental processes of the patient are concerned?' snapped
Lesatin.

I gasped and so did others at the sting of the question. But it
reassured me that Lesatin must be after Monsorlit.

Monsorlit pondered this question calmly.

'Yes, it does,' he said deliberately, still in thought. 'There is an
absolute paralysis of mental centers, sluggish reactions, no independent
action. But, as you gentlemen are aware, the shock treatments we have
used have brought the patients back to as normal a pursuit of life as
possible, considering the irreparable damage done by the cerol in some
cases.'

There was an unfinished quality to his statement that reached me if no
one else.

'You are noted for your skill in restoration, Physician Monsorlit,'
Lesatin continued. Monsorlit accepted the implied compliment as his just
due. 'Are there other surgeons today capable of such technical
perfection?'

'If you mean partial restorations due to common accidents, yes. My
techniques, as published in the Medical Library, are effective for
partial as well as complete restorations. I could name dozens of
surgeons capable of performing undetectable restorations. Partial ones,
of course.'

'Could Physician Trenor perform undetectable restoration?'

Everyone waited for Monsorlit's reply and again I wondered if Lesatin
were for or against Monsorlit.

'It is entirely possible although I have never observed the physician in
question in the operating arena.'

Had it been Trenor all along and not Monsorlit? Had I been mistaken? No,
no, that wasn't possible. Something vital assured me of that.

'Thank you, physician.' Lesatin consulted his slate. 'May I call the
Lady Sara?'

I stood up nervously.

'You were Lord Harlan's attendant during his… stay at the asylum,
weren't you?'

I confirmed this.

'Monsorlit was Harlan's physician, I believe,' and Lesatin looked first
at Monsorlit, who confirmed this and then at me. 'Did he attend Harlan
at the sanitarium?'

'Yes.'

Lesatin knew this, for he was referring to slates he must have made
during the inquiry Stannall conducted.

'Did you ever have occasion to suspect Harlan was being mistreated?
Drugged into insensibility, rather than helped to regain his sanity?'

'Yes, I did.'

'What aroused your suspicions?"

'A conversation between Gleto and… Monsorlit,' I announced, looking
accusingly at the physician who merely watched.

'Really?' Lesatin appeared sincerely surprised. 'Can you remember this
conversation?'

'Yes, I most certainly can. Gleto had called Monsorlit to examine Harlan
because he was afraid Harlan would revive from the drug.'

'The drug was named?'

'Yes. Cerol. Monsorlit said that there was no need to increase the
dosage. He told Gleto to have a weekly absorption rate taken and that
would give an indication when more would be needed. Gleto said he didn't
have the personnel and Monsorlit offered to send him a repossessed
technician who could perform the test on Harlan. Monsorlit also said
that Gleto had better do the same for the nine men who were Trenor's
patients.' My story came out in a rush because I was afraid of being
interrupted and because I wanted desperately to say it before I lost my
nerve.

Lesatin turned with anxious concern to the Councilmen. They whispered
agitatedly among themselves.

'Why didn't you bring this conversation to light in the earlier
investigation?' I was asked.

'I never got the chance. The Mil came,' I defended myself.

Monsorlit's voice asked for the right to question me and permission was
given him.

'How did you obtain the position as Harlan's attendant?' he asked me
pleasantly.

'I was placed there from the Mental Clinic.'

'Oh. You'd been a patient there?'

Watching every muscle in his controlled face, I nodded.

'How long were you a patient at the Clinic?'

'I don't remember exactly.'

'Accuracy to the minute is not required. A rough estimate is all that is
necessary.'

'Two months,' I blurted out because that number came to my mind first.
It was wrong. I could see that in the gleam in Monsorlit's eyes. He drew
out another bundle of slates and passed them to Lesatin.

'The Councilmen will see the documented record indicates a stay of over
five months.'

He's covered up here, too. All I have to do is not get rattled. He can't
beat me. I'm right and he's wrong. He's dangerous. They've got to
believe me.

'Lady Jena,' and Monsorlit turned to the other woman in the room, a
gray-haired, gentle-faced lady, 'was the ward nurse in Lady Sara's early
days with us.'

'I was indeed, poor thing.'

'Describe her condition.'

'Sir, she couldn't speak at all. She didn't seem to understand anything.
They're like that sometimes, poor dears. Especially the civilians who
came to us from Tane. But it took her longer to understand even the
simplest things. Her early achievement tests are just too low to be
possible. I have included them in the records.'

Lesatin hemmed and cleared his throat, looking at me with an expression
close to anger and resentment. I saw that I had been wrong. Lesatin
really wanted to clear Monsorlit and here was my incriminating testimony
to confuse the issues already settled in his mind.

'The Lady Sara seems quite able to make herself understood now,' one of
the Elders pointed out dryly.

'Notice, however,' Monsorlit said smoothly,'that odd labial twist.
Notice the aspiration of the hard consonants, as if there were
difficulty in controlling the speech centers.'

'A personal quirk?' asked my champion.

'Possibly,' Monsorlit admitted, but there was no conviction in his
voice. 'Lady Sara,' and he spaced his syllables oddly, 'what is the
capital of Ertoi?'

'I don't know,' I replied quickly. 'Do you?' and I directed my question
to one of the Councilmen. He bunked at me for my insolence.

Monsorlit laughed. "They can be very shrewd.'

'Sir,' Lesatin began angrily, 'your line of questioning is irrelevant
and offensive. Lady Sara's contribution to Lothar is great and you must
be careful of your aspersions.'

'She isn't careful of hers,' Monsorlit answered tolerantly. 'They often
aren't tactful. But she is very beautiful, isn't she?' he added kindly.

I held my breath. He couldn't be going to…

'She has only to smile,' Monsorlit continued, 'and be admired. Beautiful
women know that intelligence is not required of them and conduct
themselves accordingly. However, the fact remains that the Lady Sara was
a patient in the Mental Defectives Clinic and she fails to remember how
long. She does not know the capital of Ertoi and there isn't one. Here,
Lady Sara, write me a few lines. Write your name. Even beautiful women
who have attended our Mental Clinic can write.'

Monsorlit thrust a slate and stylus at me.

'I protest this preposterous treatment,' I cried.

'That's a good sentence to write, isn't it?'

The slate was put in my hands. I didn't know what to do. Lesatin and the
others were waiting with increasing impatience. It was such a simple
thing and I couldn't do it.

'I cannot write,' I said finally.

'Of course not,' Monsorlit said, turning to the Councillors. 'Her
records show that she was incapable of learning anything except the most
routine duties. How to dress herself neatly, keep clean, act
cooperatively. That's why she was in a mental-home attendant's position.
She can learn anything by rote. Anything.'

'You certainly cannot insist that Lady Sara has responded to rote
lessons today?' my champion asked.

'Not entirely. I most gladly admit she has improved tremendously since
she left the Clinic. She shows more promise of complete recovery than
those records indicate possible. She must be allowed every opportunity
to grow toward complete mental health, to restore her lost knowledge. I
suggest, Councilman Lesatin, that she be returned to my Clinic to
complete a recovery so auspicious.'

Someone must contradict this diabolical man. I turned anxiously toward
Ferrill and saw to my horror that his seat was empty. How could he leave
me? Now, when I needed a friend most? I burst into tears and tried to
draw back from Monsorlit as he placed a proprietary arm around my
shoulders and began to lead me from the room. I resisted, but the man
was unbelievably strong. He led me out a side door into a small anteroom
while, in the chamber behind, the Councilmen burst into angry questions
and discussion.

'You should have come of your own accord. I did not wish so public a
humiliation for you,' Monsorlit chided.

'You know I'm no defective. Harlan will be back and you'll be sorry.'

'Threats. Threats. Harlan can return when he wishes, but you will go
back to the Clinic and stay until my treatments bring about a full
recovery.'

'No! I am recovered. I don't need more treatment.'

'You do. One day I'll have a complete success with my technique of
restoration,' and his eyes were fixed at a point above my head, 'mind
and body. There will be no mental blocks such as you have in the memory
synapses. It will be a complete cure.'

I stared at him. He didn't know either. I had always assumed he did. He
thought I was a Lotharian and just didn't remember. He really believed I
had been a colonist on Tane when the first Mil attack came. He had
collaborated with Gorlot so he could prove, to himself if no one else,
that restoration itself did not cause the mental deterioration.

'You're mad,' I cried. 'And you're wrong.'

The door opened wider and Lesatin and several other Councilmen entered.

'The charges against you are dismissed, Monsorlit,' he said gravely.
'And you have our permission to take this… girl with you. For all our
sakes I hope you do effect a complete cure for her.'

'It's a pity she had been so closely connected with the young Warlord. I
wondered why Harlan tolerated her.'

'Harlan has always liked a pretty face. Look at Maritha. And then, too,
Harlan is probably grateful.'

'No, no, no,' I shouted at their pitiless faces. 'That isn't it!'

Monsorlit took my arm in one steel-fingered hand.

'She's done remarkably well considering her early ineptitude,' he said.
'I can't imagine who could have turned her against me.'

'No one,' I shrieked at him, trying to twist free. 'I'm not defective. I
can't write Lotharian because I don't even come from this planet. I came
from Earth, the place those corpses on the Star-class Mil ship came
from, the planet Jokan has gone to find. I'm not from Lothar. I'm from
Earth,' I screamed desperately, for Monsorlit was fumbling in his belt
pouch and I knew what he was seeking.

'What's this about Jokan's expedition?' 'Another planet?' 'Who's been
babbling?' The Councilmen all asked at once.

'Delusions,' Monsorlit reassured them, smiling at me as he got the
needle out of his pouch.

'On the contrary,' a new voice said from the hall doorway. Ferrill
pushed through. 'On the contrary, she is telling the truth. And here is
a slate, written by Harlan before he left for the Battle of Tane. It is
addressed to me. Lesatin, I suggest you read it to everyone. You see, in
this corner is the date, hard and fast.'

Monsorlit dropped my hand as if it burned him. Even he looked his
incredulous surprise at Ferrill's news. I ran to the ex-Warlord, weeping
with relief, clinging to him. He put an arm around me with awkward but
very reassuring gentleness.

Lesatin mumbled the phrases Harlan had written and the others peered
over his shoulder. When they had read, they stared at me in complete
confusion.

'How did you get here?' Lesatin roused himself to ask.

'Evidently on a Mil ship,' I said. 'I… don't really know. I was in
shock. I'm here. I'm me. I'm not mentally ill.'

'But those tests we were shown? Jena is a very reliable person. A woman
of her background and breeding would have no reason to fabricate lies,'
Lesatin stopped.

'The tests were undoubtedly accurate,' Ferrill suggested sensibly. 'I
doubt any of you could understand her language so how could you expect
her to understand ours… particularly after having been so nearly…
skinned alive.'

Monsorlit's eyes blazed as if I had suddenly changed into another
person.

'How did she get here?' Lesatin repeated, dumbfounded.

'She was brought into my base hospital along with several other cases,'
Monsorlit interjected smoothly, but there was a curious look of triumph
on his face. 'I assumed at the time she was one of the colonists who had
been attacked by the Tane. There was no reason to suppose otherwise at
the time. We know that Gorlot had several brushes with loaded Mil ships.
Some were disabled. Undoubtedly she was on one of them.'

'In what condition was she brought to you?' demanded Lesatin with fierce
urgency. I clutched at Ferrill for support.

'In a state of complete shock.'

'No, no. Physically,' demanded the Councilman.

Monsorlit looked at Lesatin with surprise, then back at me as if
comparing two pictures in his mind. 'Why, much the same as she is now,'
he replied unhurriedly. 'Much the same.'

'Could she have been restored?' my old champion demanded, bluntly.

Monsorlit pursed his lips. 'How could she have been? She is as rational
as any of us,' and to my amazement he smiled at me.

'A few moments ago, you assured us she was mentally incompetent,'
Lesatin reminded him, eyes narrowing.

I could see that Lesatin was not entirely sure my comments were rote
lessons.

'My remarks on her apparent defectiveness are still valid,' Monsorlit
pointed out. 'She does not read or write Lotharian. She does not know
simple facts our children do. She still talks with an odd accent. But
she does not know how long she was at my clinic. She most assuredly had
the violent nightmares such as were recorded. She most certainly was
incapable of anything but the simplest, most routine tasks. She has been
in deep shock and by some miracle has survived and regained complete
mental control. When she gained it, I do not know.' He stressed the
conjunction deliberately. 'Therefore I can clinically doubt her
recollections of a conversation such as she reported here today.'

He paused to see the effect of his words. I was about to contradict him,
but Ferrill shook me quickly and silenced me with a glance.

'But, gentlemen,' and his voice rose above the interruptions of the
others,'she presents an incontrovertible proof that I have tried for
years to have recognized. That it is the capture by the Mil, not the
restoration, that produces deep shock. We have completely restored burn
victims and they did not go into shock. It has been our own fears that
kill us. She never heard of the Mil. She went into deep shock, true, but
she has recovered. I believe that any Mil victim can recover, if
properly treated. Restoration has nothing to do with it. Can you realize
that?' he demanded triumphantly. 'There is your proof.'

I sagged wearily against Ferrill at the end of my strength.

'As you can see by that slate,' Ferrill drawled, 'Harlan, our beloved
Regent, has entrusted the Lady Sara to my care. She needs it right now.
You will excuse us,' and he led me from that room.

I remember hearing Monsorlit's voice rising above the arguments of the
others as the door closed. I had been forgotten and I was glad.

--------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER NINETEEN
----------------

Contents - Prev

Ferrill marshaled me down the halls and back to my apartment without
stopping for anyone.

He called Linnana to bring a stiff drink and then propelled me to my
bed. He propped me up, covering me with a shaggy blanket, took the drink
from a startled Linnana and shooed her out of the room.

I gulped at the stimulant gratefully, disregarding the raw bite on my
throat.

'Don't leave me, Ferrill,' I whispered as he turned from the bed.

'My dear aunt, not even a surprise attack by the Mil could stir me from
my post,' he said with complete sincerity. He brought a chair to the
bedside and settled himself comfortably.

'My curiosity is boundless and you won't get rid of me until I hear
everything I want to know about your fascinating recent past. Really,
Sara, I consider it immensely rude of you not to have relieved my tedium
these past days with this exciting disclosure. A planet, full, I hope,
of other enticing females? My, my! Jokan will have fun. I do hope he
returns with another homegrown variety.'

His absurd raillery was more effective than any tenderly delivered
conciliations. The drink diffused its heartening warmth and it was
ridiculous to think events would not turn my way with Ferrill putting
them into their proper perspective.

The door exploded inward and I cried out, trembling all over even after
I saw it was only Jessl.

'Who's been knocking caves down?' Jessl demanded, glaring fiercely at
me.

'Easy,' snapped Ferrill, holding up a warning hand, his eyes flashing
authoritatively. 'If you've come storming in here, you know as much as
you should.'

'The Councilmen are in panic. I thought we were to leave Monsorlit
alone. And I thought news of that new planet was to be strictly
confidential. What on earth possessed you…'

'Hold your tongue, Jessl, Ferrill ordered with such force in his tone
that Jessl eyed the ex-Warlord in respectful silence. 'Sit down.' Jessl
complied.

'Now,' Ferrill continued, more calmly. 'Sara has had good cause to be
frightened of Monsorlit. Harlan, in his infinite wisdom, chose to ignore
it and none of us had the facts to understand her concern. During the
Alert, Monsorlit threatened her that she must return to the Clinic.'
Jessl started to interrupt, staring at me suspiciously. Ferrill held up
an imperious hand, his eyes flashing, his pose of bored bystander
forgotten. 'Don't interrupt me! That's better.

'Even if she weren't Harlan's lady, that establishment has little to
recommend it to the healthy-minded. Consequently Sara found herself
placed in an untenable position at the meeting. I had no chance to warn
her what it was all about because I only found out by accident Lesatin
had scheduled the hearing today. I was under the impression Harlan was
to preside. You are, I believe, aware of the terrible strain Sara has
been under,' and Ferrill's face was stern. 'I sympathize with her
completely. I doubt I could have maintained such control were I in a
similar position, struggling to survive on her planet.'

'Then what Lesatin was saying…" Jessl stared at me anew, 'you are from
another planet?'

I nodded.

'Then what… they say about Monsorlit doing restorations,' Jessl began
in a hoarse voice, his attention riveted to my face.

'… is nonsense,' Ferrill said in an airy voice not echoed by the tense
expression on his face. 'Her planet is so close to the Tanes that she
hadn't so much as a mark on her. She was, understandably so, in deep
shock. Monsorlit's team discovered her and assumed she was a Tane
civilian casualty, she was processed along with the others through the
Clinic and ended, so fortuitously as far as Lothar is concerned, as
Harlan's attendant.'

Ferrill's easy explanation gradually reassured Jessl who began to
untense and ceased looking as if he wished he were anywhere but in the
same room with me.

'But, if she were never a mental defective, then her testimony about
Monsorlit's complicity is valid,' Jessl said.

Ferrill shook his head in exasperation. 'It is useless and wasteful to
implicate Monsorlit. No one, except Stannall or Gleto, really wants to
indict him. He's done too much among the little people of our world. And
just as much for the rich who might want a new face. He is too well
established in people's sympathies. His entire hospital staff worships
the ground he touches. No real evidence can be found against him. Except
Sara's testimony. And because she cannot establish when she came out of
shock, Monsorlit has cleverly convinced the session that her
recollection of a conversation in her recovery period is probably
faulty.'

'But I can establish the moment I recovered,' I contradicted. 'It was
the day you visited Harlan with Gorlot and four other men. We were all
walking in the gardens and you said, "Harlan, to see you this way."
Gorlot told you you had to keep your mind clear for the evening's work
and you told him he could control your decisions but not your heart.'

'You were sane then and didn't speak out?' cried Ferrill, stunned.

'That was the day everything cleared up. Before it had all been so
confused. But I didn't know where I was or what I was doing so I just
kept quiet.'

'Continue to do so,' Ferrill suggested with authority.

'But,' and I had another horrible thought, 'if the Council-men now know
I'm from another planet, won't they wonder about restoration?'

Ferrill shrugged this suggestion off.

'Why should they? Monsorlit has testified you weren't and he should
know.'

'Loyalty? Statesmanship - better to say I wasn't, even though I was,
from top to toe, a restoree?' I said.

'I feel certain,' said Ferrill firmly,'that the incident is closed.
Council has something of great moment to concern itself with…
preparations to attack the homeworld of the Mil itself.'

Jessl rose slowly, nodding his agreement with Ferrill's pronouncement.

'My apologies, Lady Sara, but I was deeply concerned,' he said. He bowed
respectfully to Ferrill and left.

Ferril waited till he heard the outer door close. Then he got to his
feet, smiling broadly.

'Yes, my dear Aunt Sara, Council is going to be very busy. They'll leave
you alone and Monsorlit alone.'

'You're sure Monsorlit will leave me alone? That I won't have to go back
to that ghastly Clinic of his to prove anything more to him?'

'Yes, Sara, I'm sure. You don't have to fear Monsorlit any more,' and
Ferrill grinned with his secret knowledge. 'Don't you realize why?'

'No.'

'The only reason he wanted you back was he thought he had failed in a
complete recovery. Now that he knows you have all your old memories, now
that he had proved to himself that capture by the Mil does not, in
itself, produce insanity unless the victim has been taught to expect it,
he doesn't need you anymore. Your case is closed as far as he's
concerned. So,' and he shrugged his thin shoulders, 'you have nothing to
fear from Monsorlit.'

I stared at Ferrill as the logic of his argument dispelled the last
vestiges of my apprehension. He was quite right. Monsorlit had proved
his point. I didn't have to worry about returning to the Clinic. Or
about my restoration.

Ferrill had pulled the draperies back from the window. The Young Moon,
the faster nearer satellite, was rising in the early afternoon sky, a
ghostly globe on the green horizon.

'Ironic, isn't it, Sara?' he commented into the companionable silence
that had fallen. 'We've finally dispersed the last shadow of our fears
of the invincibility of the Mil. We can stand free of any subconscious
taint of sacrilege after two thousand years at war with ourselves and
our old gods. Our weapons can paralyze their strong armadas. Our science
is conquering superstition and releasing the last captives from the
thrall of the Mil just when no Lotharian will ever have to fear being
captured. Our envoy speeds to bring us a new ally.'

He looked out over the city. I threw off the blanket and joined him.

'One of my planet's great statesmen said, at a very crucial time in our
history, the only thing we need to fear is fear itself.'

Ferrill looked around, pointing a finger at me.

'"The only thing we need to fear is fear itself." I like the sense of
that. It is very sensible, you realize from your own recent experience
with fear.' Then he laughed, mockingly. 'Of course, it doesn't make
allowances for cowards like myself.'

'Ferrill,' I said angrily,'don't give me that nonsense about being a bad
Warlord and you're glad Maxil's got it now because…'

'But I am glad,' Ferrill objected strenuously. 'Something I can't seem
to convince you, Maxil, Harlan, everyone… except Jokan who understands
completely…' and he broke off. He snorted, annoyed he had risen to my
baiting.

He laughed and, taking my hand, led me from the balcony.

'It's going to be an exciting era for both our planets, Sara, and I'm
going to be a part of it… even a bystander can enjoy that much. But
right now,' and his eyes danced as he waggled his finger at me, 'I'm
afraid,' he chuckled, I'm afraid I'm hungry. Aren't you?'

I burst out laughing, dispelling the last shadows of my weeks of fearful
doubts and uncertainties.

'Have you ever known me when I wasn't?'

THE END