Andre Norton - Moon Singer 2 - Exiles of the Stars

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Exiles of the Stars by Andre Norton

Chapter One

KRIP VORLUND

There was an odd haze in the room, or was it my eyes? I cupped my hands over them for a moment as I

wondered, not only about trusting in my sight, but about this whole situation. For the haze might be the

visible emanation of that emotion anyone with the slightest esper talent could pick up clearly—the acrid

taste, touch, smell, of fear. Not our own fear, but that of the city which pulsed around us like the uneven

breathing of a great terrified animal.

Sensing that, I wanted to run out of the room, the building, beyond the city walls to such security as the

Lydis had to offer, where the shell of the Free Trader which was my home could shut out that aura of a

fear fast approaching panic. Yet I sat where I was, forced my hands to lie quietly across my knees as I

watched those in the room with me, listened to the clicking speech of the men of Kartum on the planet

Thoth.

There were four of them. Two were priests, both past middle life, both of high standing by the richness of

their deep-violet over-mantles, which they had not put aside even though the room was far too warm.

The dark skin of their faces, shaven heads, and gesturing hands was lightened with designs in ceremonial

yellow paint. Each fingernail was covered with a claw-shaped metal sheath set with tiny gems, which

winked and blinked even in this subdued lighting as their fingers, flickering in and out, drew symbols in the

air as if they could not carry on any serious conversation without the constant invocation of their god.

Their companions were officials of the ruler of Kartum, as close to him, they averred in the speech of

Thoth, as the hairs of his ceremonial royal beard. They sat across the table from our captain, Urban Foss,

seemingly willing enough to let the priests do the talking. But their hands were never far from weapon

butts, as if they expected at any moment to see the door burst open, the enemy in upon us.

There were three of us from the Lydis—Captain Foss, cargomaster Juhel Lidj, and me, Krip Vorlund,

the least of that company—Free Traders, born to space and the freedom of the starways as are all our

kind. We have been rovers for so long that we have perhaps mutated into a new breed of humankind.

Nothing to us, these planet intrigues—not unless we were entrapped in them. And that did not happen

often. Experience, a grim teacher, had made us very wary of the politics of the planet-born.

Three—no, we were four. I dropped a hand now and my fingers touched a stiff brush of upstanding hair.

I did not have to glance down to know what— who—sat up on her haunches beside my chair, feeling,

sensing even more strongly than I the unease of spirit, the creeping menace which darkened about us.

Outwardly there was a glassia of Yiktor there, black-furred except for the tuft of coarse, stiffened

gray-white bristles on the crown of the head, with a slender tail as long again as the body, and large paws

with sheathed, dagger-sharp claws. Yet appearances were deceiving. For the animal body housed

another spirit. This was truly Maelen—she once a Moon Singer of the Thassa—who had been given this

outer shape when her own body was broken and dying, then was condemned by her own people to its

wearing because she had broken their laws.

Yiktor of the three-ringed moon— What had happened there more than a planet-year ago was printed

on my mind so that no small detail could ever be forgotten. It was Maelen who had saved me—my life if

not my body, or the body I had worn when I landed there. That body was long since "dead"— spaced to

drift forever among the stars—unless it be drawn some day into the fiery embrace of a sun and

consumed.

I had had a second body, one which had run on four legs, hunted and killed, bayed at the moon

Sotrath—which left in my mind strange dreams of a world which was all scent and sounds such as my

own species never knew. And now I wore a third covering, akin to the first and yet different, a body

which had another small residue of the alien to creep slowly into my consciousness, so that at times even

the world of the Lydis (which I had known from birth) seemed strange, a little distorted. Yet I was Krip

Vorlund in truth, no matter what outer covering I might wear (that now being the husk of Maquad of the

Thassa). Maelen had done this—the twice changing—and for that, despite her motives of good, not

ill—she went now four-footed, furred, in my company. Not that I regretted the last.

I had been first a man, then a barsk, and was now outwardly a Thassa; and parts of all mingled in me.

My fingers moved through Maelen's stiff crest as I listened, watched, sucked in air tainted not only with

queer odors peculiar to a house of Kartum but with the emotions of its inhabitants. I had always

possessed the talent of mind-seek. Many Traders developed that, so it was not uncommon. But I also

knew that in Maquad's body such a sense had been heightened, sharpened. That was why I was one of

this company at this hour, my superiors valuing my worth as an esper to judge those we must deal with.

And I knew that Maelen's even keener powers must also be at work, weighing, assaying. With our

combined report Foss would have much on which to base his decision. And that decision must come

very soon.

The Lydis had planeted four days ago with a routine cargo of pulmn, a powder made from the kelp beds

of Hawaika. In ordinary times that powder would have been sold to the temples to become fuel for their

ever-burning scented fires. The trade was not a fabulously handsome payload, but it made a reasonable

profit. And there was to be picked up in return (if one got on the good side of the priests) the treasures of

Nod—or a trickle of them. Which in turn were worth very much indeed on any inner world.

Thoth, Ptah, Anubis, Sekhmet, Set; five planets with the sun Amen-Re to warm them. Of the five, Set

was too close to that sun to support life, Anubis a frozen waste without colonization. Which left Thoth,

Ptah, and Sekhmet. All those had been explored, two partly colonized, generations ago, by

Terran-descended settlers. Only those settlers had not been the first.

Our kind is late come to space; that we learned on our first galactic voyaging. There have been races,

empires, which rose, fell, and vanished long before our ancestors lifted their heads to wonder dimly at the

nature of the stars. Wherever we go we find traces of these other peoples—though there is much we do

not know, cannot learn. "Forerunners" we call them, lumping them all together. Though more and more

we are coming to understand that there were many more than just one such galaxy-wide empire, one

single race voyaging in the past. But we have learned so little.

The system of Amen-Re turned out to be particularly rich in ancient remains. But it was not known yet

whether the civilization which had flourished here had been only system-wide, or perhaps an outpost of a

yet-unclassified galactic one. Mainly because the priests had very early taken upon themselves the

guardianship of such "treasure."

Each people had its gods, its controlling powers. There is an inner need in our species to acknowledge

something beyond ourselves, something greater. In some civilizations there is a primitive retrogression to

sacrifice—even of the worshipers' own kind—and to religions of fear and darkness. Or belief can be the

recognition of a spirit, without any formal protestation of rites. But on many worlds the gods are strong

and their voices, the priests, are considered infallible, above even the temporal rulers. So that Traders

walk softly and cautiously on any world where there are many temples and such a priesthood.

The system of Amen-Re had been colonized by ships from Veda. And those had been filled with

refugees from a devastating religious war—the persecuted, fleeing. Thus a hierarchy had had control from

the first.

Luckily they were not rigidly fanatical toward the unknown. On some worlds the remnants of any native

former civilization were destroyed as devilish work. But in the case of Amen-Re some farsighted high

priest in the early days had had the wit to realize that these remains were indeed treasure which could be

exploited. He had proclaimed all such finds the due of the god, to be kept in the temples.

When Traders began to call at Thoth (settlement on Ptah was too small to induce visits), lesser finds were

offered in bargaining, and these became the reason for cargo exploitation. For there was no local product

on Thoth worth the expense of off-world shipping.

It was the lesser bits, the crumbs, which were so offered. The bulk of the best was used to adorn the

temples. But those were enough to make the trip worthwhile for my people, if not for the great

companies and combines. Our cargo space was strictly limited; we lived on the fringe of the trade of the

galaxy, picking up those items too small to entice the bigger dealers.

So trade with Thoth had become routine. But ship time is not planet time. Between one visit and the next

there may be a vast change on any world, political or even physical. And when the Lydis had set down

this time, she had found boiling around her the beginnings of chaos, unless there came some, sharp

change. Government, religion, do not exist in a vacuum. Here government and religion—which had

always had a firm alliance—were together under fire.

A half year earlier there had arisen in the mountain country to the east of Kartum a new prophet. There

had been such before, but somehow the temples had managed either to discredit them or to absorb their

teachings without undue trouble. This time the priesthood found itself on the defensive. And, its

complacency well established by years of untroubled rule, it handled the initial difficulty clumsily.

As sometimes happens, one mistake led to a greater, until now the government at Kartum was virtually in

a state of siege. With the church under pressure, the temporal powers scented independence. The

well-established nobility was loyal to the temple. After all, their affairs were so intertwined that they could

not easily withdraw their support. But there are always have-nots wanting to be haves—lesser nobility

and members of old families who resent not having more. And some of these made common cause with

the rebels.

The spark which had set it off was the uncovering of a "treasure" place which held some mysterious

contagion swift to kill off those involved. Not only that, but the plague spread, bringing death to others

who had not dealt with the place at all. Then a fanatical hill priest-prophet began to preach that the

treasures were evil and should be destroyed.

He led a mob to blow up the infected site, then went on, hot with the thirst for destruction, to do the

same to the local temple which served as a storage place for the goods. The authorities moved in then,

and the contagion attacked the troops. This was accepted by the surviving rebels as a vindication of their

beliefs. So the uprising spread, finding adherents who wanted nothing more than to upset the status quo.

As is only too common where there has been an untroubled rule, the authorities had not realized the

seriousness of what they termed a local outburst. There had been quite a few among the higher-placed

priests and nobles who had been loath to move at once, wanting to conciliate the rebels. In fact there had

been too much talk and not enough action at just the wrong moment.

Now there was a first-class civil war in progress. And, as far as we were able to learn, the government

was shaky. Which was the reason for this secret meeting here in the house of a local lordling. The Lydis

had come in with a cargo now of little or no value. And while a Free Trader may make an un-paying

voyage once, a second such can put the ship in debt to the League.

To be without a ship is death for my kind. We know no other life—planetside existence is prison. And

even if we could scrape a berth on another Trader, that would mean starting from the bottom once again,

with little hope of ever climbing to freedom again. It would perhaps not be so hard on junior members of

the crew, such as myself, who was only assistant cargomaster. But we had had to fight for even our lowly

berths. As for Captain Foss, the other officers—it would mean total defeat.

Thus, though we had learned of the upsetting state of affairs within a half hour after landing, we did not

space again. As long as there was the least hope of turning the voyage to some account we remained

finned down, even though we were sure there was presently no market for pulmn. As a matter of routine,

Foss and Lidj had contacted the temple. But instead of our arranging an open meeting with a supply

priest, they had summoned us here.

So great was their need that they wasted no time in formal greeting but came directly to the point. For it

seemed that after all we did have something to sell —safety. Not for the men who met us, nor even for

their superiors, but for the cream of the planet's treasure, which could be loaded on board the Lydis and

sent to protective custody elsewhere.

On Ptah the temple had established a well-based outpost, mainly because certain minerals were mined

there. And it had become a recognized custom for the hierarchy of the church to withdraw to Ptah at

times for periods of retreat, removed from the distractions of Thoth. It was to that sanctuary that they

proposed now to send the pick of the temple holdings, and the Lydis was to transport them.

When Captain Foss asked why they did not use their own ore-transport ships for the purpose (not that

he was averse to the chance to make this trip pay), they had a quick answer. First, the ore ships were

mainly robo-controlled, not prepared to carry a crew of more than one or two techs on board. They

could not risk sending the treasure in such, when tinkering with the controls might lose it forever.

Secondly, the Lydis, being a Free Trader, could be trusted. For such was the Traders' reputation that all

knew, once under contract, we held by our word. To void such a bond was unthinkable. The few, very

few, times it had happened, the League itself had meted out such punishment as we did not care to

remember.

Therefore, they said, if we took contract they knew that their cargo would be delivered. And not only

one such cargo, but they would have at least two, maybe more. If the rebels did not invest the city (as

they now threatened) too soon, the priests would continue to send off their hoard as long as they could.

But the cream of it all would be on the first trip. And they would pay—which was the subject of the

present meeting.

Not that we were having any wrangling. But no man becomes a Trader without a very shrewd idea of

how to judge his wares or services. Thus to outbargain one of us was virtually impossible. And, too, this

was a seller's market, and we had a monopoly on what we had to offer.

There had been two serious defeats of the government forces within a matter of ten days. Though the

loyal army still stubbornly held the road to the city. there was no reason to believe that they could

continue to do so for long. So Foss and Lidj made the best of their advantage. There was also the danger

of an uprising in Kartum, as three other cities had already fallen to rebels working from within, inciting

mobs to violence and taking advantage of such outbursts. As one of the priests had said, it was almost as

if a kind of raging insanity spread from man to man at these times.

"Trouble—" I did not need that mind-alert from Maelen, for I could feel it also, an ingathering of

darkness, as if any light was swallowed up by shadows. Whether the priests had any esper talents, I did

not know. Perhaps even this aura of panic could be induced by a gifted enemy at work. Though I did not

pick up any distinct trace of such interference.

I stirred; Lidj glanced at me, picked up my unspoken warning. Those of the Lydis had learned, even as I,

that since my return to the ship in this Thassa body my esper powers were greater than they had once

been. In turn he nodded at the priests.

"Let it be so contracted." As cargomaster he had the final decision. For in such matters he could over rule

even the captain. Trade was his duty, first and always.

But if the priests were relieved, there was no lightening of the tension in that chamber. Maelen pressed

against my knee, but she did not mind-touch. Only I noted that her head tuft was no longer so erect. And

I remembered of old that the sign of anger or alarm with the glassia was a flattening of that tuft to lie

against the skull. So I sent mind-seek swiftly to probe the atmosphere.

Straight mind-to-mind reading cannot be unless it is willed by both participants. But it is easy enough to

tune in on emotions, and I found (though at a distance which I could not measure) something which sent

my hand to the butt of my stunner, even as Maelen's crest had betrayed her own concern. There was

menace far more directed than the uneasiness in this room. But I could not read whether it was directed

against those who had summoned us, or against our own ship's party.

The priests left first with the nobles. They had guardsmen waiting without—which we had not. Foss

looked directly to me.

"Something is amiss, more than just the general situation," he commented.

"There is trouble waiting out there." I nodded to the door and what lay beyond. "Yes, more than what we

might ordinarily expect."

Maelen reared, setting her forepaws against me, her head raised so that her golden eyes looked into

mine. Her thought was plain in my mind.

"Let me go first. A scout is needed."

I was loath to agree. Here she was plainly alien and, as such, might not only attract unwelcome attention

but, in the trigger-set tension, even invite attack.

"Not so." She had read my thought. "You forget— it is night. And I, being in this body, know how to use

the dark as a friend."

So I opened the door and she slipped through. The hall without was not well lighted and I marveled at

how well she used the general dusk as a cover, being gone before I was aware. Foss and Lidj joined me,

the captain saying, "There is a very wrong feel here. The sooner we raise ship, I am thinking, the better.

How long will loading take?"

Lidj shrugged. "That depends upon the bulk of the cargo. At any rate we can make all ready to handle

it." He spoke in code into his wrist com, giving orders to dump the pulmn to make room. There was this

much the priests had had to agree to—they must let us, at the other end of the voyage, take our

reckoning out of the treasure already stored in the temple on Ptah. And a certain amount must be in

pieces of our own selection. Usually Traders had to accept discards without choice.

We headed for the street. By Foss's precaution our meeting had been held in a house close to the city

wall, so we need not venture far into Kartum. But I, for one, knew that I would not breathe really easily

again until my boot plates rang on the Lydis's entry ramp. The dusk which had hung at our coming had

thickened into night. But there was still the roar of life in the city.

Then—

" Ware!" Maelen's warning was as sharp as a vocal shout. "Make haste for the gates!"

She had sent with such power that even Foss had picked up her alert, and I did not need to pass her

message on. We started at a trot for the gate, Foss getting out our entry pass.

I noticed a flurry by that barrier as we neared. Fighting. Above the hoarse shouting of the men milling in

combat came the crack of the native weapons. Luckily this was not a planet which dealt with lasers and

blasters. But they had solid-projectile weapons which made a din. Our stunners could not kill, only

render unconscious. But we could die from one of those archaic arms in use ahead as quickly as from a

blaster.

Foss adjusted the beam button of his stunner; Lidj and I did likewise, altering from narrow ray to wide

sweep. Such firing exhausted the charges quickly, but in such cases as this we had no choice. We must

clear a path ahead.

"To the right—" Lidj did not really need that direction from Foss. He had already moved into flank potion

on one side, as I did on the other.

We hurried on, knowing that we must get closer for a most effective attack. Then I saw Maelen

hunkered in a doorway. She ran to me, ready to join our final dash.

"Now!"

We fired together, sweeping all the struggling company, friend and foe alike, if we did have friends among

those fighters. Men staggered and fell, and we began to run, leaping over the prone bodies sprawled

across the gate opening. But the barrier itself was closed and we thrust against it in vain.

"Lever, in the gatehouse—" panted Foss.

Maelen streaked away. She might no longer have humanoid hands, but glassia paws are not to be

underestimated. And that she was able to make good use of those she demonstrated a moment later as

the side panels drew back to let us wriggle through.

Then we ran as if the demon hosts of Nebu brayed at our heels. For at any moment one of those

projectile weapons might be aimed at us. I, for one, felt a strange sensation between my shoulder blades,

somehow anticipating such a wound.

However, there came no such stroke of ill fortune, and we did reach the ramp and safety. So all four of

us, Maelen running with the greatest ease, pounded up into the Lydis. And we were hardly through the

hatch opening when we heard the grate of metal, knew that those on duty were sealing the ship.

Foss leaned against the wall by the ramp, thumbing a new charge into his stunner. It was plain that from

now on we must be prepared to defend ourselves, as much as if we were on an openly hostile world.

I looked to Maelen. "Did you warn of the fight at the gate?"

"Not so. There were those a-prowl who sought to capture you. They would prevent the treasure from

going hence. But they came too late. And I think that the gate fight, in a manner, spoiled their plans."

Foss had not followed that, so I reported it to him.

He was grimly close-faced now. "If we are to raise that treasure—they will have to send it to us. No man

from here goes planetside again!"

Chapter Two

KRIP VORLUND

"So, what do we do now? We're safe enough in the ship. But how long do we wait?" Manus Hunold, our

astrogator, had triggered the visa-plate, and we who had crowded into the control cabin to watch by its

aid what happened without were intent on what it could show us.

Men streamed out onto the field, ringing in the Lydis—though they showed a very healthy regard for her

blast-off rockets and kept a prudent distance from the lift area near her fins. They were not of the

half-soldier, half-police force who supported authority, though they were armed and even kept a ragged

discipline in their confrontation of the ship. However, how they could expect to come to any open quarrel

with us if we stayed inside, I could not guess.

I had snapped mind-seek; there were too many waves of raw emotion circling out there. To tune to any

point in that sea of violence was to tax my power near to burn-out.

"They can't be stupid enough to believe they can overrun us—" That was Pawlin Shallard, our engineer.

"They're too far above the primitive to think that possible."

"No." Lidj had his head up, was watching the screen so intently he might be trying to pick out of that

crowd some certain face or figure. Hunold had set the screen on "circle" as he might have done at a first

set-down on an unexplored world, so that the scene shifted, allowing us a slow survey about the landing

site. "No, they won't rush us. They want something else. To prevent our cargo from coming. But these

are city men—I would not have believed the rebels had infiltrated in such numbers or so quickly—" He

broke off, frowning at the ever-changing picture.

"Wait!" Foss pushed a "hold" button and that slow revolution was halted.

What we saw now was the gate through which we had come only a short time ago. Through it was

issuing a well-armed force in uniform, the first sign of a disciplined attack on the rebels. The men in it

spread out as skirmishers to form a loose cover for a cart. On that was mounted a long-snouted,

heavy-looking tube which men swung down and around to face the mob between them and the ship. A

fringe of the rebels began to push away from the line of fire. But that great barrel swung in a small arc, as

if warning of the swath it could cut through their ranks.

Men ran from the mass of those besieging us—first by ones and twos, and then by squads. We had no

idea of the more complex weapons of Thoth, but it would seem that this was one the natives held in high

respect. The mob was not giving up entirely. But the ranks of the loyal soldiery were being constantly

augmented from the city, pushing out and out, the mob retreating sullenly before them.

"This is it I" Lidj made for the ship ladder. "I'd say they are going to run the cargo out now. Do we open

to load?" Under normal circumstances the loading of the ship was his department. But with the safety of

the Lydis perhaps at stake, that decision passed automatically to Foss.

"Cover the hatches with stunners; open the upper first. Until we see how well they manage—" was the

captain's answer.

Minutes later we stood within the upper hatch. It was open and I had an unpleasantly naked feeling as I

waited at my duty post, my calculator fastened to my wrist instead of lying in the palm of my hand,

leaving me free to use my weapon. This time I had that set on narrow beam. Griss Sharvan, second

engineer, pressed into guard service and facing me on the other side of the cargo opening, kept his ready

on high-energy spray.

The barreled weapon had been moved farther out, to free the city gate. But its snout still swung in a jerky

pattern, right to left and back again. There were no members of the mob left in front of us within the

now-narrowed field of our vision, except several prone bodies, men who must have been picked off by

the skirmishers.

Beyond, the gate had been opened to its furthest extent. And through that gap came the first of the

heavily loaded transports. The Thothians had motorized cars which burned liquid fuel. To us such seemed

sluggish when compared to the solar-energized machines of the inner planets. But at least they were

better than the animal-drawn vehicles of truly primitive worlds. And now three of these trucks crawled

over the field toward the Lydis.

A robed priest drove each, but there were guards aboard, on the alert, their heads protected by

grotesque bowl-shaped helmets, their weapons ready. Between those, we saw, as the first truck ground

nearer, more priests crouched behind what small protection the sides of the vehicles offered, their faces

livid. But they arose quickly as the truck came to a halt under the swinging lines of our crane, and pawed

at the top boxes and bales of the cargo. It seemed that they were to shift that while the guards remained

on the defensive.

Thus began the loading of the Lydis. The priests were willing but awkward workers. So I swung out and

down with the crane to help below, trying not to think of the possibility of a lucky shot from the mob. For

there was the crackle of firing now coming from a distance.

Up and down, in with the crane ropes, up—down. We had to use great care, for though all were well

muffled in wrappings, we knew that what we handled were irreplaceable treasures. The first truck,

emptied, drew to one side. But the men who had manned it remained, the priests to help with the loading

of the next, the guards spreading out as had the skirmishers from the gate. I continued to supervise the

loading, at the same time listing the number of each piece swung aloft, reciting it into my recorder. Lidj by

the hatch would be making a duplicate of my record, and together they would be officially sealed in the

presence of the priests' representatives when all was aboard.

Three trucks we emptied. The load of the fourth consisted of only four pieces—one extra-large, three

small. I signaled for double crane power, not quite sure if the biggest crate could be maneuvered through

the hatch. It was a tight squeeze, but the men there managed it. When I saw it disappear I spoke to the

priest in charge.

"Any more?"

He shook his head as he still watched where that large crate had vanished. Then he looked to me.

"No more. But the High One will come to take receipt for the shipment."

"How soon?" I pressed. Still I did not use mind-touch. There was too much chance of being

overwhelmed by the raw emotion engendered on a battlefield. Of course the Lydis was such a fort as

could not be stormed, but I knew the sooner we raised from Thoth the better.

"When he can." His answer was ambiguous enough to be irritating. Already he turned away, calling some

order in the native tongue.

I shrugged and swung up to the hatch. There was a stowage robo at work there. My superior leaned

against the wall just inside, reading the dial of his recorder. As I came in he pressed the "stop" button to

seal off his list.

"They won't take receipt," I reported. "They say that there is a High One coming to do that."

Lidj grunted, so I went to see to the sealing of the holds. The large crate which had been the last was still

in the claws of two robo haulers. And, strong as those were, it was not easily moved. I watched them

center it in the smaller top hold, snap on the locks to keep it in position during flight. That was the last,

and I could now slide the doors shut, imprint the seal which would protect the cargo until we planeted

once more. Of course Lidj would be along later to add his thumb signature to mine, and only when the

two of us released it could anything less than a destruct burner get it out.

I stopped in my cabin as I went aloft. Maelen, as was usual during cargo loading, lay on her own bunk

there. Her crested head rested on her two forepaws, which were folded under her muzzle as she

stretched out at her ease. But she was not sleeping. Her golden eyes were open. At a second glance I

recognized that fixity of stare—she was engaged in intense mind-seek, and I did not disturb her.

Whatever she so listened to was of absorbing interest.

As I was backing out, not wanting to trouble her, the rigid tension broke. Her head lifted a little. But I

waited for her to communicate first. /

"There is one who comes, but not he whom you expect."

For I thought of the high priest coming for the receipt.

"He is not of the same mind as those who hired our aid," she continued. "Rather is he of an opposite

will—"

"A rebel?"

"No. This one wears the same robe as the other temple men. But he does not share their wishes. He

thinks it ill done, close to evil, to take these treasures from the sanctuary he serves. He believes that in

retaliation his god will bring down ill upon all who aid in such a crime, for such it is to him. He is not one

who tempers belief because of a change in the winds of fortune. Now he comes, because he deems it his

duty, to deliver the curse of his god. For he serves a being who knows more of wrath than of love and

justice. He comes to curse us—"

"To curse only—or to fight?" I asked.

"Do you think of the one as less than the other! In some ways a curse can be a greater weapon, when it

is delivered by a believer."

To say that I would scoff at that is wrong. Any far rover of the sky trails can tell you that there is nothing

so strange that it cannot happen on one world or another. I have known curses to slay—but only on one

condition, that he who is so cursed is also a believer. Perhaps the priests who had sent their treasure into

our holds might so be cursed, believe, and die. But for us of the Lydis it was a different matter. We are

not men of no belief. Each man has his own god or supreme power. Maelen herself had him she called

Molaster, by whom and for whom she fashioned her way of life. But that we might be touched by some

god of Thoth I could not accept.

"Accept or not"—she had easily followed my thought—"believe or not, yet a curse, any curse, is a heavy

load to carry. For evil begets evil and dark clings to shadows. The curse of a believer has its own power.

This man is sincere in what he believes and he has powers of his own. Belief is power!"

"You cry a warning?" I was more serious now, for such from Maelen was not to be taken lightly.

"I do not know. Were I what I once was—" Her thoughts were suddenly closed to me. Never had I

heard her regret what she had left behind on Yiktor when her own body had taken fatal hurt and her

people, in addition, had set upon her the penance of perhaps years in the form she now wore. If she had

any times of longing or depression, she held them locked within her. And now this broken sentence

expressed a desire to hold again what she had had as a Moon Singer of the Thassa, as a man would

reach wistfully for a weapon he had lost.

I knew that her message must be passed on to the captain as soon as possible and I went up to the

control cabin. Foss sat watching the visa-plate, which at present showed the line of empty trucks on their

way back to Kartum. The snouted weapon still sat just outside the gate, its crew alert about it as if they

expected more trouble.

"Hatch closed, cargo sealed," I reported. Though that was only a matter of form. Lidj was in the

astrogator's seat, slumped a little in the webbing, as he chewed thoughtfully on a stick of restorative

slo-go.

"Maelen says—" I began, not even sure if I had their full attention. But I continued with the report.

"Cursing now," Foss commented as I finished. "But why? We are supposed to be saving their treasures

for them, aren't we?"

"Schism in the temple, yet," Lidj said in answer to the captain's first question. "It would seem that this

High Priest has more than one complication to make life interesting for him. It is rather to be wondered at

why this was not mentioned before we accepted contract." His jaws clamped shut on the stick.

The visa-plate pictured new action for us. Though the trucks had gone through the gates, the guards there

made no move to fall back. However, there was a stir at that barrier. Not more of the army, rather a

procession which might have been honoring some feast day of the god.

We could see plainly the dull purple of priestly robes, brightened by dashes of vivid crimson or angry

bursts of orange-yellow, as if flames sprouted here and there. We could not hear, but we could see the

large drums borne by men on the outer edges of that line of march, drums being vigorously beaten.

"We have that on board which might be as fire to a fuse," Lidj remarked, still watching the screen,

chewing at his slo-go. "The Throne of Qur."

I stared at him. One hears of legends. They are the foundation for much careless talk and speculation.

But to see—actually to lay hands on the fabric of one, that is another matter altogether. That last, the

largest crate we had hoisted aboard—the Throne of Qur!

Who had been the first, the real owners of the treasures of Thoth? No one could set name to them now.

Oddly enough, though the remains found were obviously products of a very high civilization, there had

never been discovered any form of writing or record. We had no names for the kings, queens, nobles,

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