I had been scared before. Now I was panicked, wild with a nerve-destroying fright. I'm not a coward. I set up a radar transmitter in Okinawa within ninety feet of a nest of Japs. That was something real. I could face it. But under two suns and a pair of little moons, with weird people I knew were not human—all right; I was a coward. I steadied myself in the saddle, trying with every scrap of my will to calm myself. If this was a nightmare, well, I'd had some beauties—
But it wasn't. I knew that. The frost hurting my face, the sound of shod steel on stones, the vivid colors around me, told me I was wide awake. Dreams are not techni-colored. And through all this I was riding hell-for-leather, my knees gripped on the saddle, guiding the horse with the grip of my thighs—and I'd never been on a horse's back in my life. Rode—and rode—
We had ridden about seven miles, and stopped twice to breathe the horses, but we were still beneath the great archway of trees. The sky's pink sunset light had faded; the land was flooded with a blue, fluorescent starlight, a light I'd never seen before. I strained my eyes upward through the black foliage. I suppose I had some confused idea of guessingwhenI was by the stars. But the view to the North was hidden by mountains, and I don't know one constellation from another, with that single exception. A glance at Karamy, in this fright, un-nerved me; I touched the reins, dropped back till I rode between Gamine and the girl in flame-color. "Adric," the spell-singer saluted coolly, and the girl in the winged cloak threw back her hood; I saw dark eyes watching me from a pure, sweet young face. Before the luminous innocence of those eyes I wanted to cry out in protest. I was not Adric, warlock of Narabedla. I was just a poor guy named Mike, I was just—me. I rode beside Gamine for minutes, trying to think what I would say.
Gamine's musical voice was not raised, yet it carried perfectly to my ears. "You seem wholly yourself again."
I didn't answer. What was there to say? Still, there seemed to be sympathy in the sharply-edged tones. "You will remember—perhaps too much—at the Dreamer's Keep."
"Gamine," I asked, "Who isNarayan?"
I saw the blue robes quiver a little; across from Gamine, I saw a curious flickering look pass across the face of the girl in the orange winged cloak. But Gamine's answer was perfectly even and disinterested. "The name is not familiar to me. Have you heard it, Cynara?"
The girl did not answer, only moved her dark head a little.
"I should know," I mused. But the nameCynarahad touched another of those live wires within my mind. Narayan. Cynara. Cynara and Narayan! If I could only remember! Suddenly I turned. "Gamine—who are you?" Gamine sat quiet, eerily motionless on the tall horse. The robed figure seemed to blend into the starlit shadows around us. I had the sudden feeling of having re-lived this moment before, then the veiled shoulders twitched impatiently.
"Is this an inquisition?"
Rebuked, and stung by the arrogant voice, I touched my heel to my horse's flank and rode forward to rejoin Karamy. Gamine! The hell with Gamine!
For several minutes the road had been climbing, and now we topped the summit of a little rise and abruptly the trees came to an end. By tacit consent we all drew our horses to a walk. We stood atop the lip of a broad bowl of land, perhaps thirty miles across, filled to the brim with thick dark forest. Far out in this valley lay a cleared space, and in the center of that space lay a great tower; but not a slender and fairylike spire like the Towers of Rainbow City. This was a massive donjon thrusting heavy shoulders upward into the moon-washed sky.
The Keep of the Dreamers.
Something in me murmured, "This is the forest where the Dreamer walks!"—or had the murmured voice come from Gamine, motionless behind me? Karamy rode eagerly, her face drawn tautly together, her slim tanned hands clenched on the reins. All this while I was Mike Kenscott—but a Mike who watched himself without knowing what he would do next, like those puzzling nightmares where a man is both actor and audience to some mummery being played. I watched myself say and do things as if I were two men at once. In effect, I suppose I was.... Karamy turned in her saddle, facing me.
"Adric," she murmured, "Lead me where the Dreamer walks!"
I knew, with a sudden surety, that because of some bond between the freed Dreamer and myself, I could do this. But again, something outside myself told me what to say. "That bond is broken, Karamy. Did you not break it yourself? How can I guide you then?" And for my reward I saw unsureness leap in her cat's eyes. That shot had told. Karamyhadbeen guessing, then!
The answer had shaken her. But this woman was a past mistress at subtlety. She murmured, "It can be forged again. That I swear."
Ah, but I knew how far to trust even Karamy's oaths!
We had dipped down into the bowl of forest and we were riding through thick woods, along a road that struggled windingly, with many curves and sharp corners. Adric knew this country; his knowledge made Mike Kenscott shiver. He had hunted here, and for no fourlegged game. As if Karamy read my thoughts I hear her low laughter. "So. My wrist aches for the feel of a falcon. We'll hunt here again—soon, you and I!" I was partly bewildered by her words, but they gave me a shivering excitement, an insidious thrill.
Behind me, I heard Gamine's chanting take on a new note. The words were still indistinguishable, but the very tune screamed warning. A pulse began to twitch jerkily in my neck.
Without any warning, the road twisted. Karamy and I spurred our horses and rounded the curve in one swift, racing burst of speed—and were fairly in the trap before we knew it.
It was the agonized whinny of my horse, and the jolt of my body righting itself automatically from the plunging animal beneath me, that made me realize we had ridden straight on a chevaux-de-frise. I yelled, cursing, shouting to Karamy to get back, get back, but her own momentum carried her on; I saw her light body fly out of the saddle and disappear. The others, rounding the curve in a wild dash, were fairly on the barrier already, and the place was a bedlam, a scramble, with riderless horses milling in a melee of curses and the screaming of women and the threshing of feet. I was out of my saddle in an instant, thrusting Gamine's mount back from the stabbing points fixed invisibly against the dark barrier in the road, shouting to Evarin and Idris. Evarin leaped to my side, catching at Karamy's wild horse, while I tore madly at the barrier where the woman had been thrown. Idris bore down on me, mounted. "Go round!" he shouted. I plunged through the underbrush at the side of the road, with hasty feet twice snaked by long creepers. Past the barrier, the road lay open and deserted, and Karamy lay in a shimmer of crumpled silk, motionless. "Gamine, Evarin—" I bellowed, "No one's here! Quick, Karamy is hurt—"
The head and shoulders of Idris' horse thrust through the thick brushwood. "Is she dead?" the dwarf muttered. I bent, thrusting my hand to her breasts. "Her heart's beating. Only stunned. Get down," I ordered. Idris scrambled, monkey-fashion, from the saddle. I lifted the woman in my arms, but she did not move or open her eyes. Idris touched my arm.
"Put her on the saddle," he suggested, and together we laid her across the pommel. Suddenly, the dwarf cried out.
"What?" I asked sharply.
"I hear—"
I never knew what Idris heard. His head vanished, as if snatched away by a giant's hand; a rough grip collared me, choking fingers clawed at my throat, a thousand rockets went off in my head and I lay sprawling in the brushwood, eating dust, with an elephant sitting on my chest and threatening hands gouging my throat. My last coherent thought before the breath went out of me, was—
"I'm waking up!"
But I wasn't. When I came to—it could only have been a few seconds that I was unconscious—it was to hear Evarin snarling curses and Idris barking incoherently with rage. I heard Karamy screaming my name, and started to answer, but the steely fingers were still at my throat and with that weight on top of me, I hadn't a chance. The fall, or something, had knocked Adric clean out of me. I was fuzzy-brained, but sane. I was an innocent bystander again.
I could see Evarin and Idris in the road, casting wary glances at the brushwood all around them. I could just make out the face of the man who was holding me pinned to the earth with his body. He had the general build of a hippopotamus and a face to match. I squirmed, but the threatening face came closer and I subsided. The man could have broken me in two like a match.
Around me in the thicket were dozens of crouching forms, fantastic snipers with weapons at their shoulders. Weapons that could have been crossbows or disintegrators, or both. "Enter Buck Rogers," I thought wearily. I was beginning to feel faint again, and old welter-weight on my stomach didn't help any. Abruptly he moved, delicate fingers knotting a gag in my gasping mouth; then the intolerable weight on my chest was suddenly gone and I sucked in air with relief. The fat man eased himself cautiously up, and I felt a steel point caress my lowest rib. The threat didn't need words. I could see the Narabedlans gathered, a tight little knot in the road. The snipers around me were still holding their weapons, but the fat man commanded in a low voice "Don't fire! They're sure to have guards riding behind them—" the voice died to a rasping mutter, and I lay motionless, trying to dredge up some of Adric's memories that might help; but the only thing I got was a fleeting memory of my own football days and a flying tackle by a Penn State halfback that had knocked me ten feet. Adric was gone; clean gone.
The Narabedlans were talking in low tones, Gamine the rallying-point round which they clustered. Evarin had his sword out, but even he did not step toward the mantling thicket. Cynara was holding Evarin's arm, protesting wildly. "No, no, no, no! They'll kill Adric—"
Suddenly, between two breaths, the road was alive with mounted men. Who they were, I never knew; I was quickly dragged to my feet and jerked away. Behind me I heard shouting, and steel, and saw thin flashes of colored flame. Spots of black danced before my eyes as I stumbled along between two captors. I felt my sword dragged from my scabbard. Oh well, I thought wryly, now that Adric's run out on the party I don't know how to use it anyway.
Under the impetus of a knife I found myself clambering awkwardly into a saddle, felt the horse running beneath me. There wasn't a chance of getting away, and the frying pan couldn't be much worse than the fire, anyway.
Behind us the noises of battle died away. The horse I rode raced, sure-footed, into the darkness. I hung on with both hands to keep from falling; only Adric's habitual reflexes kept me from tumbling ignominiously to the ground. I don't think I had any more coherent thoughts until the jolting rhythm broke and we came out of the forest into full moonlight and a glare of open fires.
I raised my head and looked around me. We were in a grove, tree-ringed like a Druid temple, lit by watch-fires and the waver of torches. Tents sprouted in the clearing, giving it an untidy, gypsy appearance; at the back was a white frame house with a flat roof and wide doors, but no windows.
Men and women were coming out of the tents everywhere. The talk was a Pentecost of tongues, but I heard one name, repeated over and over again.
"Narayan! Narayan!" the shouts clamored.
A slim young man, blond, dressed in rough brown, came from one of the larger tents and walked deliberately toward me. The crowd drew back, widening to let him approach; before he came within twenty yards he made a signal to one of the men to untie my gag and let me down. I stood, clinging to the saddle, exhausted; the young man came forward until he could almost have touched me, and studied my face dispassionately. At last he raised his head, turning to the fat man, my captor.
"This isn't Adric," he said. "This man is a stranger."
I should have been relieved; I don't know why I wasn't. Instead, my first reaction was bewilderment and angry annoyance. How could he tell that? I was as furiously embarrassed as if I'd been accused of wearing stolen clothing. My beefy captor was as angry as I was. "What do you mean, this isn't Adric?" he demanded belligerently, "We took him right out of their accursed cavalcade! If it isn't Adric, who is it?"
"I wish I knew," Narayan muttered under his breath. His eyes, still fixed on my face, were level, disconcerting. He was tall and straightly built, with pale blond hair cut square around his shoulders like a squire from a Provencal ballad, and grey eyes that looked grave, but friendly. I liked his looks, but he had a trace of the uncanny stillness I'd noticed in old Rhys, in Gamine. For a moment I decided to tell my whole fantastic story to this man with the grave eyes. He would surely believe it. But to my surprise, he spoke and called me Adric; definitely, as if he had forgotten his doubts.
"Adric," he said, "Do you still remember me? Or did Karamy take that too?"
I sighed. I didn't dare tell the truth, and I felt too chilled and exhausted and disoriented to lie convincingly. Yet lie I must, and do it well.
The fat man scowled and fronted Narayan. "Karamy—Zandru's eyelashes!" he growled. "Look you, did Brennan come back this afternoon? He knows his way around Rainbow City. Ask Adric what happened to Brennan!"
The clamoring broke out around us again, but Narayan never took his eyes from my face as he answered gently, "There is always danger, Raif. Blame no man unjustly. Brennan knew he faced all the dangers of Rainbow City. And even Adric is not to blame if a she-witch has him under her spells."
"Traitor!" Raif snarled at me and spat.
I loosed the saddle-horn and stepped dizzily forward. "You might try asking me," I said with a weary anger.
"Are you Adric of the Crimson Tower?" fat Raif snapped.
"I don't know—" I said tiredly. "I don't know, I don't know!"
Narayan's eyes met mine in skeptical puzzlement. Abruptly he put out one hand and took my wrist in a firm grip. "We can't talk here, whoever you are," he said, "Come along."
He led me through the thinning crowd into the frame house at the grove's edge; Raif and one other man trailed after us, the rest clustering hive-fashion around the door. Inside, in a great timbered room, a fire burned and glowing globes chased away darkness. I went gratefully toward the fire; I was stiff with riding and I felt chilled and stupid and empty with the cold. From a wood settle near the fire, a woman rose. She was slight and dark and around her shoulders the luminescent shimmer of her winged cloak flowed like another flame. Cynara.
"Adric—" she said half-aloud, holding out her hands. I took them, partly because she seemed to expect it, partly because the girl seemed the only thing real in a world gone haywire. She flung her arms suddenly around my neck and held herself to me with a shy deliberation. "Adric, Adric, Adric—" she begged, "I slipped away in the dark—I suppose Gamine knows—but they'll never find me here, no, never—"
Narayan's hand pulled the girl sternly away from me; she shrank before the annoyance in his eyes. "Please—Narayan, no—"
The blond man looked at her without speaking for long moments. At last he said gravely, "Sister, you must go back to Narabedla. I would not make you go if there was another way; but you must, for a time." He beckoned to one of the men. "Kerrel—" he commanded, "Take Cynara back to Rainbow City, but don't get caught. Cynara; tell them you were lost in the woods, or that you were caught and escaped."
The childish mouth trembled, and she turned to me appealingly, but I gave a little shrug. What was I supposed to do? Narayan gave Cynara a gentle push. "Go with Kerrel, little sister," he ordered in a quiet voice; Kerrel took her arm and they hurried out of the room, the winged cloak she wore fluttering on her shoulders. Narayan motioned to Raif to follow them through the door. "I'll talk with him alone."
Raif's thick lips set stubbornly. He looked as if he'd be nasty in a fight. "If he's Adric, and if he's under Karamy's devilments, then—"
"I have faced Adric, and Karamy too," said Narayan with a friendly grin at the man. "Get out, Raif; you're not my bodyguard, or even my nurse!"
The fat man accepted dismissal reluctantly, and Narayan came to my side. There was real friendliness in his grin. "Well," he said, "Now we will talk. You cannot kill me, any more than I could kill you, so we may as well be truthful with each other. Why did you leave us, Adric? What has Karamy done to you this time?"
The room reeled around me. I put out a hand to steady myself—when the dizziness cleared, Narayan's arm was around my shoulders and he was holding me up with a strength surprising in his slight frame. He let me settle down on the seat Cynara had left. "You have been roughly handled," he said in apology, "Just sit still a minute. My men—" he made a deprecating little gesture, "have had orders. And if I know Karamy's ways, you've been heavily drugged for a long time." His eyes studied me intently. "Better come and have a drink. And—when did you eat last? You look half starved. That's the way of thesharig—"
I rubbed my forehead. "I can't remember," I told him honestly.
"I thought so. Come along." Narayan went into the next room, assuming that I would follow and that I knew my way around. After the insanely furnished rooms in Rainbow City, I was a little surprised when the next room proved to be a strictly functional and ordinary kitchen, equipped with the usual items. Out of a relatively un-extraordinary icebox he assembled something that looked rather like the food I was accustomed to from the 20th century, and poured some kind of liquid into an oddly shaped glass. He motioned me into a chair and set the things on the table. "Here, eat this. I know the drugs they give you; you'll have more sense when you've eaten. We've plenty of time to talk, all night if we choose." He saw me glance side-wise at the glass, laughed sketchily, and from the same bottle poured himself a drink and sat down opposite me, sipping it slowly. "Go ahead. I won't poison you till I find out what Karamy's up to."
I laughed apologetically and started eating, with a mental shrug. It had been at least forty-eight hours since I had last tasted food, and I did justice to the plateful before me. Narayan sipped his drink—which, when I tasted mine, appeared to be excellent cognac—and watched me; and when I finally pushed the empty plate aside, he put back his glass and said "Now. Who are you, and what happened?"
I felt better and stronger; more like myself than I'd felt since Rhys had catapulted me into this world. But now that I was on the carpet, I felt I must talk fast and convincingly before those searching grey eyes.
"Karamy had me shut in the Tower," I told him, "I was freed today, and we were on our way to the Dreamers Keep. Then your men came along. I didn't know if I was being rescued or captured. I still don't." I stared with purposeful blankness at Narayan; he stared back and I could feel him debating what to do and say. Obviously, an Adric sane and glib and possibly untruthful was a different thing than an Adric too bewildered and shaken to tell anything but the truth. Finally Narayan said, "I'm not sure what I ought to do or say, Adric. The bond between us isn't as strong as it was. You know that."
I nodded, perturbed. Adric's thoughts seemed to be surging back, insidiously, as if Narayan held the key to unlock them. What crazy drama was going to be unfolded in my mind now?
Narayan said, low; "Karamy did it, I think."
"Yes." My own voice was as quiet as his own. "Karamy sent me on the Time Ellipse. She knew I'd come back changed—or mad—or not at all. I think—I think she wanted me to betray you again."
"Adric!" Narayan reached out quickly and grabbed my arm, hard, above the elbow, till I cried out with the pain of that steely grip and twisted away, rubbing numbed flesh. "Adric—" Narayan repeated, unsteadily, "Why do you say—betray me again? Betray me? Adric—it was your hand that freed me! Zandru! Adric—" he begged, "How muchhave you forgotten?"
The fire in the other room had burned down to an ember. Without a glance my way, Narayan mended the fire; sat down, his legs stretched toward the little blaze, his shin in his hands; waiting. I could not stand still. I walked, restless, around the room, speaking in little jerks and half-sentences.
"You are the Dreamer," I said, "I—I remember a little. I remember being bound to you. I remem-member when I—freed you. Not knowing what it might mean, not knowing you could have slain me on the ground of sacrifice."
"No!" Narayan was as motionless as Gamine's veils, but his voice was harsh, strident. "No, Adric, never that! We cannot—kill each other, you and I. I could order you killed, I suppose, but I—I would never do that unless there was no other way. Adric—is there any other way for me, for you?"
A bitterness spoke in my voice; neither side trusted Adric, both wanted his allegiance. I tried to trim my words carefully between the two personalities that were battling for mastery in me.
"It was Karamy," I said, "who took Adric from you, and sent him, half-mad, back to the Crimson Tower. Karamy's magic stripped him of power, and sent him, gone mad, back to stargazing in Narabedla. But it wasnotKaramy's—" the voice that was not quite mine shook, suddenly, with my own weariness and the blank terror I'd been keeping at bay, "It wasn't Karamy who sentmehere, I'm not Adric. You were perfectly right. I'm no more Adric than—than you are. I'm in Adric's body, yes. He moves me like a puppet! I have his memories, his—some of his thoughts—but he—" my voice cracked suddenly on a note of panic; I knew I sounded like a hysterical kid, but I couldn't stop my own crackup once it had broken loose. "I'm not Adric, I'm not! I don't belong here at all! I don't—"
Narayan jumped up from the bench and I heard his hurrying steps, then his steel hands were hard on my shoulders, swinging me around to face him. "All right," he said, "Steady. It's all right."
I drew a long breath and let it out again. "Thanks," I said briefly, shamed. "I'll be all right now."
Narayan shrugged wearily. "It's all right. I guessed you weren't Adric, of course, from the beginning. But I didn't think Adric, when it came to the test, would really do that to me. I had his promise. I suppose, for him, it was an easy way out. A perfect way of escape." He sank down on the bench again, dropping his head in his hands. After a little, he looked up, and his voice sounded tired. "This is difficult," he said. "My men think you are Adric. I'd never be able to convince them you aren't. Would you mind—pretending? You'll have to; otherwise—" he paused, and I saw disquiet in his face. He was not a man who would enjoy threatening, but I could understand his situation. They didn't know me from Adam; I was just an outsider who messed things up by resembling Adric. Well, I was stuck. I hadn't liked the Narabedlans enough to give a hang what Narayan meant to do to them. Narayan, by comparison, looked pretty decent. And there was no other way to save my skin. Adric wasn't too popular, it seemed and in Adric's body I hadn't a chance. I laughed. "I'll try," I told him. "But what's this all about?"
Narayan looked up again. "That's right. You wouldn't know. You have some of Adric's memory, I suppose, but not all. You remember who I am?"
"Not entirely—" I told him. I remembered some things. Narayan had been born, some thirty years ago, into a respectable country family who were appalled to discover they had given birth to a mutant Dreamer, and were only too glad to deliver him to the Narabedlans for the enforced stasis. I told Narayan.
"You remember the old Dreamer who served your House?"
I nodded. He had become old, mortal, weak—and had been eliminated. I bowed my head, although I had no personal guilt.
Afterward, Narayan and I had been bound. "I slept in the Dreamer's Keep—" Narayan sounded reflective, almost guilty, "I was wakened, and—given sacrifice. I learned to use my power and to give it up to Adric." A brooding horror was in the grey eyes; I realized that Narayan dwelt in his own personal private hell with the memory of what he had done under the spell of Narabedla. "Adric was—strong."
Yes, I thought; Adric had called on Narayan's new power without counting cost. What wonder the memory maddened Narayan? The young Dreamer seemed to win his silent fight for self-control. "Well, you—Adric, I mean—freed me. I found my sister again; Cynara. I was like a child; I had to learn to live, to be alive again. I had been trained to use my power only through the Sacrifice. I had to learn to use it without. It wasn't easy."
"Why?" I asked thoughtlessly. Narayan's eyes froze me. "To use that power," he said in a tense, controlled voice, "Took human life."
Outside the door I could hear the noises of the camp; the light of their watch-fires crept in through the cracks. It was too dark to see Narayan's face now, but I heard him moving restlessly about the room. "I have harnessed the power somewhat," he said, "I can use it, myself, a little. Not much. Adric helped me; so did my sister. She had been taken for Sacrifice, but you—Adric—redeemed her. Then—we were able to throw an illusion around Cynara. She is not of Narabedla; but we made it seem as if she had always been there, in Rainbow City. We could do that because Evarin is weak, and because Karamy did not care. It was Rhys who made the Illusion."
"Rhys!" The old Dreamer, the only one born in Narabedla—
"Yes; Gamine is careless with Rhys and lets him wake too long. Rhys and I have been in contact for a long time."
I was hearing scraps of conversation from a vast abyss of time and space, when I had been drawn in electric coma through Karamy's Time Ellipse.They will know, Narayan will know.That had been old Rhys. And Adric;What have I to do with Narayan?Adric had been—still was—playing a fancy double game with Narayan; I started to open my lips to tell the young Dreamer about it, but he was still talking. "Rhys will not act, not directly, against Rainbow City. But he did that much for us, and Gamine and Cynara are friends. We forgot—we all forgot—that Adric's allegiance belonged to Narabedla first. Until he vanished." I heard the brooding heaviness in Narayan's voice. These men had been friends. Narayan went on, "I sent Brennan today, to find out. He didn't come back."
I lowered my head and miserably told him what had happened to Brennan. Narayan's face in a flicker of firelight looked drawn and haggard. "He was a—brave man," Narayan said at last. "But I don't blame you. After the interchange, I think, there was a time when you went on living Adric's life. Thinking his thoughts. But now, I think, he will grow weaker in you. Ihope. You—who are you, in your own world?"
I shrugged. The words would have meant nothing to Narayan. "My name's Mike Kenscott."
"Mi-ek," Narayan repeated, turning the strange word on his tongue. "The men will call you Adric. I'd better, too. Later—" he shrugged. I didn't say anything; I was still convinced that I hadn't seen the last of Adric. But I didn't want to tell Narayan this. I liked the man.
Without warning, Narayan switched on lights. "It's near dawn, and you must be worn out. We've taught them to stay clear of the forests at night, so we're safe enough here. They can't do much till they've been to the Dreamers Keep, in any case." With a sudden boyish friendliness he put out his hand and I took it. "I'm glad you're not Adric. He might be hard to handle now—if he's changed so much."
As if the lights had been a signal, fat Raif came without knocking into the room. Narayan crossed his hostile stare at me. "He's all right, Raif," the Dreamer said. The fat face broke into a sudden, elephantine smile. "I'd better apologize, Adric. I had orders."
"Find him a place to sleep," Narayan suggested, and I followed Raif up a flight of low stairs into an inner room. There was a bed there, clean, but tumbled as if it had had another occupant not long ago. Raif said, "Kerrel's gone with Cynara. You can sleep here."
I kicked off my boots and crawled between the blankets, suddenly too weary even to answer. I had been two days without sleep, and most of that time I had been under exhausting physical and mental strain. I saw Raif cautiously finger his weapons and sensed that whatever Narayan said, he was reserving judgment. He didn't take chances, this outside lieutenant of Narayan's. Sleepily I said, "You can put that up, my friend. I'm not going to move till I've had a good, long—"
I didn't even finish the sentence to myself. Instead I went to sleep.
I had slept for hours. I came abruptly out of confused dreams to hear a shrill voice and to feel small hands pulling me upright. Cynara! "Wake up, Adric—" she wailed, "Karamy and Evarin are riding today—huntingyou!"
I sat up, dizzy-brained, far from alert. "Cynara! How—"
"Oh, never mind that—" her voice was impatient, "What can wedo?"
I didn't know. I was still stupid with sleep, but I put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. "Don't be afraid," I told her, then, releasing her, bent and began to pull on my boots. I heard the swift pound of steps on the stairs, and Narayan shoved open the door, dragging a brown tunic over his head as he came. He stopped short at the door, staring at his sister. "Cynara, what are you doing here?"
She repeated her news, and he sighed. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all. "Well, never mind," he told her, "The game was almost over, anyhow. Sooner or later they would have broken through the Illusion; Rhys is too old now for that. You were lucky to get away. We'll have to storm the Keep to-night—unless they have too-good hunting." He fumbled with the laces of his shirt. A dead weariness was in his grey eyes; they looked flat, almost glazed. He met my questioning stare and smiled ruefully. "The Dreamers stir," he told me, "I am not yet free of—their need. So I must be careful." Cynara shuddered and threw her arms around her brother's neck, clutching him with a fiercely sheltering clasp. "Narayan, no—oh, no—don't—"
But he was already deep in thought again. He freed her arms without impatience. "We'll meet that when the time comes, little sister. So Karamy and Evarin ride hunting. Who else. Idris?" At her nod, his brows contracted. "All of them—but Gamine," he mused, and turned to me. "Could you conceivably get through to Rhys? I don't dare—not with that—that stirring."
I understood, Narayan was still attuned to the terrible need of the sleeping Dreamers in the Keep. But I reminded him that only Gamine could control old Rhys. He looked at me with a strange curious question in his eyes, but made no comment. My own mind was working strong. I was unsure how I had gotten here in the house of the freed Dreamer. Just what had happened last night? I had thought Narayan would never trust me again; but now, when I needed it most, I seemed to be in his complete confidence. Damn Karamy anyhow, meddling with my memory! And she had the audacity to fly Evarin's devil-birds after me—Adric, lord of the Crimson Tower! She should have a lesson she would not forget—and so should the presumptuous Gamine—and so should this walking zombie who was staring at me stupidly, as if I were his equal! I said with a slow savagery, "I think I can manage Gamine!"
Narayan was watching me anxiously. Gods of the Rainbow, what preposterous things had I said and done last night? I said, "We'll take them at the Dreamer's Keep," and saw his face clear.
But what you do not know, Narayan, I added to myself with a secret satisfaction,is that you will join them there!
It never occurred to them to question, to wonder if Adric today were the Adric of last night. We went downstairs and snatched a quick breakfast; Cynara tore off her winged flame-color cloak and stuffed it wrathfully into the fireplace. Her coarse grey dress beneath it made her shy prettiness more striking than ever; Cynara was not Karamy, but she was a pretty thing; and Narayan could hardly fail to trust me when Cynara perched on the arm of my chair and ran her dainty fingers over the bruises on my face. "Your roughs nearly killed him!" she pouted at her brother.
"Oh, I'm not hurt," I smiled at her, making my voice gentle for her ear alone. But I scowled darkly into my plate; pushed the food away and strode out into the camp. Narayan shouted quickly, jumping up, sending his chair crashing to the floor, and he ran after me so that we went down the steps together. "Wait," he commanded in my ear, softly, "Don't forget, to them you're still a traitor!" He took my arm, and we walked through every row of tents together, Narayan's expression almost belligerent. I saw the faces of the men as they came from their improvised shelter, saw suspicion gradually give way to tolerance and then casual acceptance. Finally Narayan called to Raif. "Stick to him, will you, Raif? He's all right, but the men don't know it yet."
I glanced at Narayan. "Raif," I said tentatively, "Can you find me twelve men who know the way to Rainbow City and aren't afraid to come close to it?"
"I can," Raif said, and went to do it. I had to hide a smile. Before long I would win back the place my foolishness had lost. The idiot whose body I had shared briefly had almost put it beyond recovery, but in a way he had helped, too. His weakness had won Narayan's confidence. Well, one thing I knew, that futile idiot should not share the coming triumph. Nor should Narayan.
Narayan—fumbling in my pocket, I touched something smooth and hard. Evarin's mirror. Narayan, looking over my shoulder as I dragged it out, asked curiously, "What's that?"
I pulled it out with a secret smile. "One of Evarin's toys. Look at it, if you like."
Narayan took it in his hand for a moment, without, however, untwisting the silk. "Go ahead," I urged, "Unwrap it."
I might have sounded too eager. Abruptly Narayan handed it back. "Here. I don't know anything about Evarin."
I had to conceal my disappointment. With a feigned indifference I thrust it back into the pocket. It did not matter. One way or another, Narayan would lose. For Evarin and Karamy rode a-hunting today—and I knew what their game would be!
I pulled my cloak closer about me, prickling with excitement, as I knelt between Raif and Kerrel in the tree-platform. Just beneath me, Narayan clung to a lower branch. My ears picked up the ring of distant hooves on frozen ground, and I smiled; I knew every nuance of this hunt, and Evarin might find his deadly birds not so obedient to his call today. Not a scrap of me remembered another world where a dazed and bewildered man had flown at a living bird with his pocketknife.
Coldly I found myself considering possibilities. A snare there must be; but who: Narayan himself? No; he was my only protection until I got clear of this riffraff. Besides, if he ever unsheathed his power, unguarded like this, he could drain me as a spider sucks a trapped fly. No; it would have to be Raif. I had a grudge against the fat man, anyway. I pulled at his sleeve. "Wait here for me," I said cunningly, and made as if to leave the platform. Raif walked smiling into the trap. "Here, Adric! Narayan gave orders you weren't to run into any danger!"
Good, good! I didn't even have to order the man to his death; he volunteered. "Well," I protested, "We want a scout out, to carry word when they come."As if we wouldn't know!
"I'll go," Raif said laconically, and leaned past me, touching Narayan's shoulder. He explained in a whisper—we were all whispering, although there was no reason for it—and Narayan nodded. "Good idea. Don't show yourself."
I held back laughter.As if that would matter!
The man swung down into the road. I heard his footsteps ring on the rock; heard them diminish, die in distance. Then—
A clamoring, bestial cry ripped the air; a cry that seemed to ring and echo up out of hell, a cry no human throat could compass—but I knew who had screamed. That settled the fat man. Narayan jerked around, his blond face whiter. "Raif!" The word was a prayer.
We half-scrambled, half-leaped into the road. Side by side, we ran down the road together.
The screaming of a bird warned me. I looked up—dodged quickly—over my head a huge scarlet falcon, wide-winged, wheeled and darted in at me. Narayan's yell cut the air and I ducked, flinging a fold of cloak over my head. I ripped a knife from my belt; slashed upward, ducking my head, keeping one arm before my eyes. The bird wavered away, hung in the air, watching me with live green eyes that shifted with my every movement. The falcon's trappings were green, bright against the scarlet wings.
I knew who had flown this bird.
The falcon wheeled, banking like a plane, and rushed in again. No egg had hatched these birds! I knew who had shaped these slapping pinions! Over one corner of my cloak I saw Narayan pull his pistol-like electrorod, and screamed warning. "Drop it—quick!" The birds could turn gunfire as easily as could Evarin himself, and if the falcon drew one drop of my blood, then I was lost forever, slave to whoever had flown the bird. I thrust upward with the knife, dodging between the bird's wings. Men leaped toward us, knives out and ready. The bird screamed wildly, flew upward a little ways, and hung watching us with those curiously intelligent eyes. Another falcon and another winged across the road, and a thin, uncanny screeing echoed in the icy air. I heard the jingle of little bells. Three birds, golden-trapped and green-trapped and harnessed in royal purple, swung above us; three pairs of unwinking jewel-eyes hung motionless in a row. Beyond them the darkening red sun made a line of blackening trees and silhouetted three figures, a horse, motionless against the background of red sky. Evarin—Idris—and Karamy, intent on the falcon-play, three traitors baiting the one who had escaped their hands.
The falcons poised—swept inward in massed attack. They darted between my knife and Narayan's. Behind me a bestial scream rang out and I knew one of the falcons, at least, had drawn blood—that one of the men behind us was not—ours! Turning and stumbling, the stricken man ran blindly through the clearing, down the road—halfway to those silhouetted figures he reeled, tripping across the body of a man who lay beneath his feet. Narayan gave a gasping, retching sound, and I whirled in time to see him jerk out his electrorod, spasmodically, and fire shot after wild shot at the stumbling figure that had been our man. "Fire—" he panted to me, "Don't let him—he wouldn't want to get to—them—"
I struck the weapon down. "Idiot!" I said savagely, "Some hunting theymusthave!" Narayan began protesting, and I wrenched the rod from his hand. The man was far beyond firing range now. At Narayan's convulsed face I nearly swore aloud. This weak fool would ruin everything! I said hastily, "Don't waste your fire! We can take care ofthemlater—" I waved a quick hand at the three on the ridge. "There is no help for those caught by Evarin's birds."
Narayan breathed hard, bracing himself in the road. I beckoned the others close. "Don't fire on the birds," I cautioned, tensely; "It only energizes them; they drain the energy from your fire! Use knives; cut their wings—look out!" The falcons, like chain-lightning, traced thin orbits down in a slapping confusion of wings and darting beaks. I backed away from the purple-harnessed birds, flicking up my cloak, beating at the flapping wings. Our men, standing in a closed circle back to back, fought them off with knives and with the ends of their cloaks thrown up, swatting them off; and three times I heard the inhuman scream, three times I heard the lurching footsteps as a man—not human any more—broke from us and ran blindly to the distant ridge. I heard Narayan shouting, whirled swiftly to face him—he ran to me, beating back the green-trapped bird that darted in and out on swift agile wings. The screeing of the falcons, the flapping of cloaks, the panting of men hard-pressed, gave the whole scene a nightmare unrealness in which the only real thing was Narayan, fighting at my side. His gasp of inhuman effort made me whirl, by instinct, flinging up my cloak to protect my back, my knife thrust out to cover his throat. He raked a long gash across the down-turned head of the falcon, was rewarded with an unbirdlike scream of agony and the spasmodic open-and-shut of the razor talons. They raked out—clawing. They furrowed a slash in the Dreamer's arm. The razor beak darted in, ready to cut. I threw myself forward, unprotected, off balance, ready to strike.
At the last minute talons and beak turned aside—drew back—darted swiftly, straight at me. And my knife was turned aside, guarding Narayan!
But Narayan jerked aside. His knife fell in the road, and his arm shot out—grabbed the bird behind the head, twisting convulsively so the stabbing needle of a beak could not reach him. The darting head lunged, pecking at the cloak that wrapped his forearm; thrown forward, I stumbled against Narayan, carried by my own momentum, and we fell in a tangle of cloaks and knives and thrashing legs and wings, asprawl in the road. The deadly talons raked my face and his, but Narayan hung on grimly, holding the deadly beak away. I thrust with the knife again and again; thin yellow blood spurted in great gushes, splattering us both with burning venom; I snatched the wounded bird from the Dreamer's weakening hands twisted till I heard the lithe neck snap in my fingers. The bird slumped, whatever had given it life—gone!
And high on the ridge the dwarfed figure of Idris threw up his hands—fell—collapsed across the pommel of his saddle!
Narayan's breath went out limply in a long sigh as we untangled our twisted bodies. Our eyes met as we mopped away the blood. We grinned spontaneously. I liked this man! Almost I wished I need not send him back to tranced dream—what a waste!
He said, quietly, "There is a life between us now."
I twisted my face into a smile matching his. "That's only one," I said. "The rest—" I turned, watching for a moment as the falcons tore at the ring of men. "Come on," Narayan shouted, and we flung ourselves into the breach. I flung down my knife, snatched a sword from someone and swung it in great arcs which seemed somehow right and natural to me. The men scattered before the sword like scared chickens, and I went mad with hate, sweeping the sword in vicious semi-circles against the lashing birds ... the sword cut empty air, and I realized startlingly that both birds lay cut to ribbons at my feet, their blood staining the dead leaves. Narayan's eyes swam, through a red haze, into my field of vision. They were watching me, trouble and fright in their greyness. I forced myself to sanity; dropped the sword atop the dead birds. I wiped my forehead.
"That's that," I said banally.
We took toll of our losses, silently. Narayan, gasping with pain, rubbed a spot of the yellow blood from his face. "That stuff burns!" he grimaced. I laughed tightly; he didn't have to tell me. We'd both have badly festered burns to deal with tomorrow. But now, there was work—
"Look!" One of the men stared and pointed upward, his face tense with fright. Another great bird of prey hung on poised pinions above us, sapphire eyes intent; but as we watched, it wheeled and swiftly winged toward the Rainbow City. Not, however, before I had caught the azure shimmer of the bells and harness. A thin, sweet tinkling came from the flying bells, like a mocking echo of the spell-singer's voice.
Gamine!
Back in the windowless house, we snatched a hurried meal, cared for our slashed cuts, and tried to plan further. The others had not been idle while we fought the falcons. All day Narayan's vaunted army had been accumulating, I could hardly say assembling, in that great bowl of land between Narabedla and the Dreamer's Keep. There were perhaps four thousand men, armed with clumsy powder weapons, with worn swords that looked as if they had been long buried, with pitchforks, scythes, even with rude clubs viciously knobbed. I had been put to it to conceal my contempt for this ragtag and bobtail of an army. And Narayan proposed to storm Rainbow City—with this! I was flabbergasted at the confidence these men had in their young leader. So much the better, I thought, take him from them and they'll scatter to their rat-holes and crofts again! I felt my lips twisting in a bitter smile. They trusted Adric, too. When I had shown myself to them, their shouts had made the very trees echo. Well—again the ironic smile came unbidden, that was just as well, too. When Narayan was re-prisoned, I could use the power of their lost leader to tear down what he himself had built. The thought was exquisitely funny.
"What are you laughing about," Narayan asked. We were lounging on the steps of the house, watching the men thronging around the camp. His slumberous grey eyes held deep sparks of fire, and without waiting for my answer he went on, "Think of it! The curse of the Dreamer's magic lifted—what would it mean to this land, Adric? It means life—hope—for millions of people!"
In a way, Narayan was right. I could remember when I had shared that dream; when it had seemed somehow more worthy than a dream of personal power. Cynara came down the steps, bent and slipped her soft arms around my shoulder, and I drew her down. A volcano of hate so great I must turn my face away burned up in me. This man was my equal—no, I admitted grudgingly, my superior—and I hated him for it. I hated him because I knew that in his dream of power no one must suffer. I hated him because, once, I had been weak enough to share his feelings.
I said abruptly, "Your plans are good, Narayan. There's just one thing wrong with them; they won't work. Storming Rainbow City won't get you anywhere. You could kill Karamy's slaves by the thousands, or the millions, or the billions. But you couldn't kill Karamy, and you'd only leave her free to enslave others. You've got to strike at them when they're in the Dreamer's Keep. When the Dreamers wake is the only moment when they are vulnerable."
"But how can we get to the Dreamer's Keep, Adric? They go guarded a hundred times over, there."
"What's your army for?" I asked him roughly, "To knock down hay-cocks? Send your men to chase off the guards. I told you I could handle Rhys, if it came to that. He'll get us through to the Dreamer's Keep, if need be."
"What about Gamine?" Cynara asked practically. Gamine was the least of my worries, but I did not tell Cynara that. I listened to their comments and suggestions a little contemptuously. Didn't they know that when the Dreamers woke, the Narabedlans were vulnerable—to the Dreamers alone? If I were there with Narayan, there was no question about who would win.
Cynara scowled at the rip of talons across my face. "You're hurt and you never told me!" she accused. "Come this minute and let me take care of it!" I almost laughed. Me—Adric of the Crimson Tower—being ordered around by a little country girl! I snorted, but spoke pleasantly. "I'll live, I expect. Come and sit here with us." I pulled her down at my side, but she leaned her head on her brother's knee, an unquietness in her face. She was a pretty thing, although the cause of all my troubles. When I redeemed her from Karamy's slaves, for a whim, I had not known she was Narayan's sister—Zandru's hells, but I had made a ghastly slip! I had told Narayan there was no help for those touched by the birds, when I myself had redeemed his own sister! Had he noticed? Would he attribute it to Karamy's meddling with my mind? I smothered an exclamation, and Cynara and Narayan looked up anxiously. "Youarehurt, Adric!"
I shook my head. I fancied Narayan looking at me with suspicion, but I controlled myself. I reached out to draw Cynara to me, but she had drawn back, rising lithely to her feet, like a dove poised for flight; only her hands, small darting hands like candle-flames, remained in mine to pull me lightly to my feet. I tried to hold her, but she protested, "There is so much to be done—" and I raised the slim hands to my lips before I let her go. The gesture pleased her, I could see; so much that I watched with contempt as she tripped away. Silly, simple girl! Itwouldplease her!
In the end it was only Narayan and Cynara who rode with me to Rainbow City. Kerrel had taken the army, in sections, to set an ambush for Karamy's guards; we rode in the opposite direction, by a twisting side road. Cynara rode beside me, her dark eyes glowing. There was dainty witchery in Cynara, and a pretty trust that made me smile and promise recklessly, "We will win." It pleased me to think that I could comfort Cynara for her brother's downfall. Once conditioned to Rainbow City, she would forget her silly fancies and be a fair and lovely comrade. If she continued to please me, it would be amusing to see this unformed country girl wield the power that had belonged to Karamy the Golden!
It took us an hour of hard riding to reach the lip of the great cup of land, where we paused, looking down the dark, almost-straight avenue of trees that led to the walls of Rainbow City. I whistled tunelessly between my teeth. "Whatever we do, it will be wrong. We'd be taking quite a chance to ride up to the main gate; at the same time, they'll be expecting us to sneak in the back way. They'd never expect us to come by the front avenue."
"The deer walks safest at the hunter's door," Narayan quoted laughing. "But won't they be expecting us to use that kind of logic?"
Cynara giggled, subsided at my frown. "At that rate," I said, "We could go on all night."
Narayan reached overhead, snatching down a crackling sheaf of frost-berries; selected one narrow pod. He held it between finger and thumb. "Chance. Two seeds, we go around. Three, we ride straight up the main gate. Agreed?" I nodded, and he crushed the dry husk. One, two—three seeds rolled into my outstretched palm.
"Fate," Narayan said with a shrug. "Ready, then?"
I jounced the seeds in my palm. "One for Evarin, and one for Idris, and one for Karamy," I said contemptuously, and flung the little black balls into the road. "We'll scatter them like that!"
We were lucky; the drive was deserted. If there were guards out for us at all, they had been posted somewhere on the secret paths. Straight toward the towers we rode, under the westering red sun, and just before dusk we checked our horses and tethered them within a mile of the Rainbow City, going forward cautiously on foot.
I objected to this arrangement. "I'll get in alone," I told them. "If anything happens to me, we mustn't lose you as well!"
"I'll stay," said Narayan briefly. "If anything goes wrong, I'll be here to help." Silently I damned the man's loyalty, but there was nothing I could say without spoiling the illusion I had worked so hard to create. I took his hand for a minute. "Thank you." His voice was equally abrupt. "Good luck, Adric." Cynara glanced at me briefly and away again. I walked away from them without looking back.
It was easy enough to find my way into the labyrinthine towers. I was not Lord of the Crimson Tower without knowing its secrets. I climbed the stairs swiftly, ransacked the place. To no avail. When she took my memories, Karamy had also been careful to take everything which could conceivably give me any power over any of the Dreamers, even old Rhys. I went up more stairs till I stood at the very pinnacle of the tower, in Adric's star-room into which I had been catapulted—was it less than three days ago? I stood at the high window, vaguely thinking of an older Adric, an Adric who had watched the stars here, and not alone. I traced back through the years, diving down deep into the seas of sudden memory, and brought up the knowledge of—
"Mike Kenscott!" said a voice behind me, and I whirled to look into the face of a man I had never seen before.
He had the primitive look of a man out of some forgotten past. I had seen such men as I swam in the light of the Time Ellipse. He was tall and clean-shaven; he looked athletic; his eyes were a ridiculous color, dark brown. He had hair. He looked angry, if he could be said to have an expression.
But he spoke, clearly and with a deliberate calm. "Well, Mike Kenscott," he said, in a language I had never heard, but found myself understanding perfectly, "You have taken my place very nicely. I suppose I should thank you. You've given me freedom, and Narayan's trust—the rest I can do for myself!" He laughed. "In fact, you're so muchmethat I'm not much of myself. But Icanforce you back into your own body—"
The man must be mad! At any rate, he'd insulted the Lord Adric, in his own Tower, and by Zandru's eyelashes, he'd pay for it! I flung myself at him with a yell of rage. My fingers dug into his throat—
And I cried out in the stifling clutch of lean fingers grabbing at me, biting at my neck, my shoulders—an agonizing wrench shuddered over my body—
I faced—
Adric!
Of course I understood, even while I fought, dizzy and reeling, to loose the deathgrip I had put on my own body. I was—back, I was Mike Kenscott again—Adric loosed his hands of his own will, and stepped away, breathing hard. "Thank you," he said in the raw voice that had been mine for so long, "I myself could hardly have done better." With a swift movement he snatched something from a little recess in the wall—pointed—and fired point-blank. A lance of grey mist stabbed out at me—
To my amazement, only a pleasant heat warmed me. I had enough split-second reasoning reflex left to fall in a slumped huddle to the ground. I knew that was what he expected. Adric fumbled in his pockets, took out the little mirror I had taken from Evarin, still wrapped in its protective silk. I watched, breathless, between narrowed eyelids. If he would only open it—but instead he gave a shudder of disgust and flung it straight at me. With a braced, agonizing effort I made myself lie perfectly still, without flinching to avoid the blow. The mirror struck my forehead. I felt blood break to the surface and trickle wetly down my face. I heard Adric moving; heard receding steps and the risp of a closing door. He was gone.
I moved. To this day I am not sure how I escaped death from Adric's weapon; but I think it was because I was in my own body. After I had touched Adric the first time, I was immune to Earth electricity. In this world, I think, I was immune to their force. I wiped the blood from my temple. Good Lord, there was Narayan—waiting with Cynara—I forgot that I had plotted against Narayan, remembering only that I had liked the man. I couldn't let Adric get to them—
I grabbed the mirror, crammed it into a pocket. Against the nightmare haste that drove me I ran to the closet, quickly, from the racks of weapons, chose a short ugly knife. I didn't need swordsman's training to use that. Thank God, I knew my way around, I could remember everything I'd done when I was Adric—but wait! I could also "remember" what he had done whenhewasme! That meant Adric could "remember" everything I had done and planned with Narayan! This crazy business of Identity! Even now, could I be sure which of us was who?
I dashed out of the room, ran down the endless stairs three at a time. At the entrance to Gamine's blue tower, a dangerous whirring of wings beat around me; I staggered, almost fell backward. One of the murderous falcons—the one in blue—darted, hanging poised in the stair-well above me. I backed against the wall, hoping the bird would not attack. Gamine had not flown falcon with the others.
The strong wings flapped in the closed space; I saw the dart of the vicious little beak. Blindly I struck upward with the knife, shielding my eyes with the other hand, and was rewarded with a splatter of thin burning blood and a scream of unbirdlike agony. I ducked beneath the thrashing wings, and ran on up the stairs; behind me the dying falcon flapped, threshed and rolled down the stairs, a tangle of wings, landing far below with a flailing thump.
I was not quite sure what I meant to do. As I climbed, I thought swiftly. Gamine was no friend to Adric, I knew that. Adric had known much of Gamine and Rhys, and I drew on that knowledge, but even Adric had not known much of the Spell-singer cloaked in that blurred halo of invisibility. Had he ever seen Gamine?
What was Adric doing now? I had served him well; won him Narayan's trust, then turned him loose again in his own body, to destroy, betray them! I hated Adric as I hope I may never hate again.
And yet, I could not hate him wholly. To know all is to forgive much, and I had lived for three days and nights in Adric's body and brain; knowing his strengths and his weaknesses, his dreams and torments, I could not condemn him utterly. A man may be forgiven much that he does for a woman's bewitchments, and few men could be blamed for allowing Karamy to enslave them. Adric had done good, once, too; he had freed the Dreamer, he had loved—but he had trapped me here, and for that, my hate would make him pay—thoroughly!
A shadow flitted across my sight; the robed Gamine barred my way, an air of cold amusement around the poise of the hood and the blurred invisible head. The Spell-singer laughed, mocking. "How like you this body, Adric? You are beaten now, for sure! The stranger works with Narayan—inyourbody, Adric!"
"I'm not Adric," I shouted. "Adric's in his own body again! He's going after Narayan—"
"You expect me to believe that?" Contempt stung me in Gamine's clear, sexless voice.
"Let me to Rhys," I begged. "He'll know I'm telling the truth—damn it, let me by!" Infuriated by the mocking laughter, I thrust my arm to move Gamine forcibly from my path. Whatever Gamine was—man, woman, imp or boy—it was not human. Steel wires writhed between my hands. I struggled impotently in that bone-breaking grip; then with a swift impulse thrust my hand quickly at the blurred invisibility where Gamine's face should have been.
Gamine screamed—a thin cry of horror. Suddenly I knew where I had been those two weeks I lay in the hospital,—when Adric lay, in my body, gone mad, in the hospital in my place. An instinct I had grown to trust warned me to pull away sharply from Gamine's relaxed grip. I shouldered by and ran like hell.
Halfway up the stairs I heard the Spell-singer's feet running behind me, and I quickened my stride and sprinted for the heavy door that barred my way. I could feel Rhys' presence behind the door. I threw my weight against the door, twisting the handle frantically.
The door was locked.
Behind me, I heard the padding tread of Gamine. Hopelessly, I put my back to the door, pulling my knife out again, and defied the creature.
Behind me the door suddenly opened and I was flung backward, sprawling, into the room within. "Well, Mike," the old tired voice of Rhys said, "Gamine is a fool, but you are no better. Yes, I knew you were coming, I knew Adric is going, I know where Narayan is and I know what they plan to do. There is only one person who can stop all this, Mike Kenscott. You."
Gaping stupidly, I picked myself up from the floor. The old Dreamer, his wrinkled face serene under the peaked hood, watched me placidly. "What—how—" I stammered.
"Gamine is a prescient. And I am not a complete fool." Rhys smiled wearily. The dreamy look of the very old or the very young was on his face. "I cannot help you; but I will make Gamine help."
The spell-singer came into the room, and I could almost see resentment through that strange halo of nothingness. "Gamine," Rhys said. "It is time. You, and Narayan, must go with him to the Dreamer's Keep."
"No—" Gamine whispered in protest, "Narayan—cannot go! His—his—talisman was destroyed! Only outside the tower—he cannot go in!"
"There is still—mine. Give it to him." At Gamine's cry of dismay, Rhys' voice was suddenly a whip-lash. "Give it to him, Gamine! I still have power to—compel that! What does it matter what happens to me? I am old; it is Narayan's turn; your turn."
"I'll—keep it for Narayan—" Gamine faltered.
"No!" Rhys spoke sharply. "While you keep it—and I am bound to you—there is still the bondage. Give it to him!"
Gamine sobbed harshly. From the silken veils she drew forth a small jewelled thing; wrapped in insulating silk like Evarin's mirror. She untwisted the silk. It was a tiny sword; not a dagger, but a perfectly modelled sword, a Toy. Evarin's too; but different. I recalled that Evarin had called himself Toymaker. Gamine clung to it, the robed shoulders bent.
"Mike must take it," Rhys' voice was gentler. "If you keep it, I am still bound to you. If Adric had it, it would bind Narayan again. If Mike keeps it—nearNarayan—Narayan is free. Free to go where he will, even in the Dreamer's Keep. Give it to him, Gamine." Rhys sat down, wearily, as if the effort of speech had tired him past bearing. I stood and listened with a rebellious patience; I was eager to be gone. But my eyes were on the little jewelled Toy in Gamine's hands. It winked blue. It shimmered. It pulsed with a curious heartbeat, hypnotic. Rhys watched, too, his tired face intent and almost eager. "Gamine; if Adric had seen you, had remembered—"
"I want him to remember!" Gamine's low wail keened weirdly in the silent room. Rhys sighed.
"I am Narabedlan," he said at last, "I could not destroy my own people. Gamine is not bound—nor you, Mike Kenscott. I suppose I am a traitor; but when I was born Narabedla was a fair city—without so many crimes on its head. Go and warn Narayan, Mike."
Gamine hovered near me, intent, jealous, the shrouded eyes fixed on Rhys. The old man spoke on in a fading voice. "My poor city—now, Gamine. Now. Give it to him and let me rest. Stand away from me, Mike; well away; I do not want the bondage again from you."
I did not understand and stood stupidly still. Gamine gave me an angry push. "Over there, you fool!" I reeled, recovered my balance, stood about six feet from the couch where Rhys half-sat, half-lay. The old man laid one wrinkled hand on the toy sword Gamine held. He took his hand away.
"Now," he said quietly.
Gamine thrust the sword into my hand, and I felt a sudden stinging shock, like electric current, jolt my whole body. I saw Gamine's robed body shiver with the same jolt. The Toy in my hand was suddenly heavy; heavy as if it were made of lead, and the tiny winking in the hilt was darkened. The peaked hood of Rhys drooped until it covered the face.
Gamine caught my arm roughly and the steel of those narrow fingers bit to the bone as they hauled me almost bodily from the room. I heard the echo of a sob in the Spell-singer's whispering croon.
Rhys—Farewell!
The next thing I knew we were racing side by side down flight after flight of stairs. Together we fled through the subterranean passages of Rainbow City. Outside, in the pillared court, a man ran toward us. His brown tunic was ripped and torn; his blond hair was rumpled. A smudge of blood reddened his forehead. I gasped, "Narayan!"
The man whirled—saw us—pulled his weapon from his belt. There was no time for explanations. I threw myself at his knees in a flying tackle no football coach would approve, but it did the trick. Narayan went down under me, kicking. Gamine was not one to stand aside in a fight; the robed figure rocketed forward, flung itself on the prone Narayan, holding him motionless with that steely strength. I wrenched the electrorod from Narayan's relaxed fingers. "Listen—" I urged, "I'm not one of Karamy's men—Gamine, let him up!"
"He's got Cynara—" the Dreamer muttered dizzily, "Cynara—who in Zandru's hells are you?" He picked himself up, gazing at me with a stunned, blank look. "My name's Kenscott," I said briefly. Suddenly, feeling it was the best way to establish my good-faith, I pulled out the Toy Gamine had put in my hand. "I've seen Rhys. He sent—this."
Narayan stared at the thing in my hand, a double grief in his young face. "Rhys—" he muttered, "I felt he was—gone!" With bent head, he reached out to take the small thing from me.
In his hand it came alive. The small jewelled Toy seemed suddenly brilliant, flaring, dazzling with a wild burst of faceted light, blue, golden, crimson, flame-color. Gamine's low sweet voice breathed, "In the Dreamer's hands!"
"In my hands," Narayan murmured in a choked, almost a tranced ecstasy. I broke in on their raptures rudely. "Here, Narayan! Is it Adric who's got Cynara?"
He gulped; swallowed hard; thrust the Toy into a pocket and came back to himself, but that light was still in his eyes. He spoke with a hard restraint. "Yes. Adric surprised me—knocked me out. When I came to, they were gone." He blinked once or twice; rubbed his eyes; then, resolutely fumbled for the little Toy and extended it to me. "Here. Keep this till we get to the Dreamer's Keep."
I took it without comment. Gamine slipped away; came back, leading horses. "I couldn't find a single guard," the cold voice murmured, "I wonder where they are?"
"Adric knows," said Narayan, tight-lipped.
We mounted.
The wind was rising. Above us the moons swung slowly in an indigo sky. Sparks flew from our hooves against the frosty stones. We were racing against time, and a nightmare panic had me while I gripped the saddle of my racing horse. It took all my concentration to stick on the animal's back, but I was acquiring balance and a feel for riding. The ill wind was blowing some good, I thought inanely. Narayan's blond hair was frosty pale in the moonlight, and the eerie Gamine was a nightmare ghost, a phantom from nowhere. Far away we heard the spatter of gunfire, the screams of dying men, the ring of swords and spears. Thinly Gamine chanted in the night. Narayan's face looked haunted. "There are the guards—attacking—" he jerked out over the hoof-noises.
The scream of falcons rang swiftly above Gamine's chant. The too-familiar beat of wings slapped around my head, and I flung up my arm to knock away one serpentine neck. My terrified horse plunged and I rocked in the saddle nearly falling. Another bird swooped down on Narayan—another—then there were swarms of them, gold and purple and green, crimson, blue, flame-color. The air was thick with their wings. Gamine screamed; I saw Narayan beat the air with his cloak. The veiled Spell-singer, crouched in the saddle, was lashing at them with the whip from her saddle. The lash kept the falcons at bay, but the razor talons caught at the blue shroudings. Narayan, whip in one hand, sword in the other, beat round him in great arcs, and I heard one bird's death-cry sending ringing echoes to the sky. I flung round me with my knife—
"The mirror—" screamed Gamine, "Evarin's mirror! Quick, they're coming by millions!"
They were coming in scores—hundreds, whirling and screeing. These were not the soul-falcons, belled and elaborately endowed with the intelligence and cunning of their launcher. These were—machines. Alive, yes, but not a life we knew. Only the nightmare freak of a science gone mad could produce—or control—these hateful things that were filling the clean air, groping for us with needle beaks and talons and wild wings. Only Evarin—
I fumbled blindly for the mirror, clumsily stripping the silks. A needle-talon raked at my wrist, and by sheerest instinct I struck upward, turning the face of the mirror toward the bird.
The bird reeled in mid-air—flapped—fell. A tingling shock rattled through my arm. I dropped the mirror—leaped to catch it. The thing was a perfect conductor. It—drained energy. I knew now why Evarin had been so anxious to have me—or Adric—look into its depths. It could have touched the energy waves of my brain through my eyes. The birds were brainless; all energy. I grabbed the mirror and held it upright; I caught a half-glimpse, from the tail of my eye, of the weird lightnings coiled inside it, but even that glimpse coiled my stomach in nervous knots. Shielding my face, I held it upward. The birds flew toward it like a moth to the candle. Shock after shock flowed along my arm. Three more of the horrible falcons fell limp, lifeless—drained.
A strange exhilaration began to buoy me up. The force from the birds was not electricity but a kindred force, which my nerves drank greedily. I thrust the mirror out; was rewarded again by the surge of power, and again the birds, this time by dozens, flapped and fell.
Then, as if whatever had loosed the army of falcons had realized their uselessness, the whole remaining force of the birds wheeled and fled, winging swiftly over the land to the distant donjon that rose high and far into the black midnight.
Recalled—to the Dreamer's Keep!