Wolverton chuckled as he turned to the doctor. "This one's a _real_
hardshell," he said. "Better check for psi potential when you get back
to the infirmary--we don't want to get caught with our pants down like
we did last time." He laughed--a high-pitched cackle that grated on my
nerves and turned to face me. "Don't worry," he went on. "You will get
used to doc. You'll have to. She's the only medic we have."
The doctor looked at me with complete distaste.
"Do your worst," I said bitterly. "After your unclean hands have
touched me, I can stand anything."
"I'll do my best--even for _you_!" the doctor said. She looked into my
eyes until her own slid aside from the force of my superior will. "You
probably _can_ stand anything--and possibly even more," she admitted
grudgingly. She gestured to the Halsite who picked me up as though I
were a child and carried me into the building down corridors, past
courtyards and fountains to a small white room where he laid me on a
table and held me while the doctor set my leg--ignoring my flinching
revulsion to her touch.
So that was how I came to be seated in a wheelchair with a Halsite at
my back, listening to Wolverton's voice--the Voice of Evil. The Halsite
who attended me scratched idly at an insect bite on one massive arm and
eyed me speculatively. But I had seen quite a few Halsites these past
two weeks and so I didn't feel particularly disturbed. My itching leg
occupied most of my attention.
Wolverton looked at me, sighed and shrugged his lean shoulders. "I
wonder if you're worth it," he speculated audibly. "Possibly it'd be
better to wait until you've married and try again with your children."
He rose to his feet. "But I can't take the chance," he said. "Already
it's getting too late--in another generation there might be no
opportunity to salvage the race. Can't work with material like your
society. There has to be _some_ balance--and the old civilizations
are going downhill. There just doesn't seem to be anything now but
nut cults and decadence. There's no middle ground except for a
few places--and those are damn near Maximum Survival Density." He
capitalized the last three words verbally.
I don't think he was really conscious of my presence at the moment,
which was oddly annoying. For an instant he was miles away in a world
of his own--a world which I did not understand. And for an equally
brief instant I wished I could.
* * * * *
He walked out--leaving me alone with the Halsite.
"Take me outside," I said.
"Boss say no."
"Boss didn't say no--he just told you to watch me. You can watch me
just as well outside as in here."
"Boss say keep you in house," the Halsite repeated, grinning
cheerfully as he talked, exposing his long, yellow canines.
"Are you afraid of _me_?" I asked with mild incredulity.
"E'Komo afraid of no man," the Halsite said. "Men weak--poor
hunters--poor fighters--but Boss say _inside_." His mouth closed like a
trap and he looked sullen.
"You are afraid," I said, putting as much contempt into the words as I
dared. "Afraid."
"E'Komo not afraid of any human."
"Of the Boss?" I asked insinuatingly.
"Even Boss--but he my chief. I put my hands in his and gave promise to
be his man. Halsite no break word."
"Oh, well," I said, "you'll never convince me with all your talk that
you're not afraid of Wolverton." I looked up at his broad, brutal face.
He wasn't smart--and he was proud. For the past two weeks I had been
feeling him out while my leg was rapidly mending under the doctor's
expert care. I despised her, but she knew far more of medicine than
did our best. At home, it would be a month away before I would be able
to walk, but here I was almost well again. But it would do me no good
as long as I was inside the house. Outside, the electronic field that
blanked my strength might be weaker--and maybe if I could get far
enough away I could escape. If I could once get away from Wolverton's
influence he'd never catch me. I could return and tell the Bearers--
Just what _could_ I tell them? The thought jerked my plans for escape
to a dead halt.
What had I learned about our enemy? What were his weaknesses? How could
he be attacked and destroyed? Sure, I knew his strength--but other
ones than I had learned of that. And here I was in the very heart of
Evil's power and I had learned exactly nothing that would help the Word
prevail.
* * * * *
I could have kicked myself for being so stupid--for not leading
Wolverton on. Surely Zard must think me a weak reed--a coward--or at
best a fool. One cannot fight Evil by ignoring it. The Word came to
me, "_Smite Evil hip and thigh. Fight fire with fire--oppose craft
to craft--strike down the evil doer with his own spear that the Word
may triumph. For in my Kingdom honor waits for those who spread the
Word--that the light of the spirit may be passed to other minds
and the heathen rescued from the Pit._" What a fool I was to apply
the "Canticles of the Young" to Wolverton. It should have been the
"Missionary Creed." Against Wolverton, passive resistance could not
win. It would take a sharp mind and resolute spirit to combat him. And
it was time I displayed both.
Immersed in my thoughts I did not at first realize where the Halsite
was taking me until a brilliant blaze of light struck my eyes. We were
outside and the big fellow was pushing me rapidly down a smooth walk
between rows of flowering shrubs.
"See--not afraid," he said as he came to a branch in the walk. "I take
you outside. Now we go back."
I felt for him and he was all there--and with calculated force I
struck! He crumpled, eyes rolling in their sockets, powerless to harm
me as I stepped from the chair, limping a little from the weight of
the brace on my leg. I looked down at the helpless Halsite for a long
second, assimilating what I learned from him, and then I went over the
fence and into the darkness of the forest beyond the grounds.
As the trees closed behind me I had a panicky feeling to fly and keep
on flying until I was back home with my fellow Adepts in the cloister
behind the great cathedral in Hosanna. I longed for the quiet and the
comforting touches of my friends. Here I was alone in a savage land
with the Father of Evil. The thought unnerved me. I was not used
to Evil, and my cloistered days of study and practice as I mastered
an Adept's powers were poor experience to pit against such a one as
Wolverton. And then I remembered my vow to Zard, and the Missionary
Creed, and I knew I must go back and fight him on his own ground. I
must appear weak and inept until I could find an opening through which
to strike. Yet I must not appear too easy. Wolverton must be allowed
to recapture me, but I must make an obvious effort to escape. A pure
cleansing wave flowed through me and my spirit was eased and my soul
comforted. Zard was with me, and I felt no fear. He was pointing out my
course--the only one I could possibly take. Slowly I turned and moved
deeper into the forest, using my Adept's powers to confuse the trail.
* * * * *
Wolverton found me as I knew he would. I was aware of him even before
he saw me. It surprised me that he had located me so quickly--but that
was the only unusual thing about it. His air-boat came slanting down
toward my hiding place, but I did not move. He stepped out and came
toward me, but I did not fly though every muscle in my body screamed
for flight. When he was close enough I reached for him, but my grip
slipped harmlessly away. Still, this did not surprise me for I had not
been able to touch him before--and was he not the Father of Evil? But
when the glinting metal flashed violet in his hand and the stunning
shock locked my muscles in rigid paralysis--I was afraid--but then it
was too late--
* * * * *
I was again lying upon the narrow white table while the doctor massaged
my stiff body. Slowly a feeling that was agony came back to my numbed
body and I stirred weakly. "Fool," the doctor said. "Did you think to
escape from _him_?" There was bitter acid in her voice, mixed with an
odd note of admiration. "You had courage to try but you should have
known you wouldn't succeed."
"I nearly did," I said, "and I would have if he had been slower to
pursue. In the dark I could have avoided him."
"He would have found you though it had been as dark as the bottom of
the Pit."
"I would have been gone."