"There are lies everywhere," said Stark. "I am tangled up in lies. You
know the truth that is behind this war of Kynon's. Tell me."
"Kynon's truth is simple," she answered, speaking slowly, choosing her
words. "He wants land and power, conquest. He will pour out the blood
of his people for that, and after that he plans to use the men of the
Low-Canals under Delgaun to keep the tribesmen in line. It may be
true, as he said, that they would be satisfied with grazing land and
water--but they would lose their freedom, and their pride, and I think
he has judged them wrongly. I think they would revolt."
She looked up at Stark. "He planned to use your knowledge, and then
destroy you if you became troublesome."
"I guessed that. What about the others?"
"The outlanders? Use them, keep them as subordinates, or pay them off.
Kill them, if necessary."
"Now," said Stark. "What of Delgaun and Berild?"
Fianna said softly, "Their truth, too, is simple. They took Kynon's
idea of empire, and stretched it further. It was Delgaun's idea to
bring the strangers in. They would use Kynon and the tribes until
the victory was won. Then they would do away with Kynon and rule
themselves--with the outlanders and their ships and their powerful
weapons to oppress Low-Canaller and Drylander alike.
"That way, they could rape a world. More outland vultures would come,
drawn by the smell of loot. The Martian men would fight as long as
there was the hope of plunder--after that, they would be slaves to
hold the empire. Their masters would grow fat on tribute from the
City-States and from the men of Earth who have built here, or who wish
to build. An evil plan--but profitable."
Stark thought about Knighton and Walsh of Terra, Themis of Mercury,
Arrod of Callisto Colony. He thought of others like them, and what they
would do, with their talons hooked in the heart of Mars. He thought of
Delgaun's yellow eyes.
He thought of Berild, and he was sick with loathing.
Fianna came close to him, speaking in a different tone that had care
and anxiety only for him.
"I have told you this, because I know what Berild plans. Tonight--oh,
tonight is a black and evil time, and death waits in Sinharat! It is
very close to me, I know. And you must follow your own heart, Eric John
Stark. I cannot tell you more."
He kissed her again, because she was sweet and very brave. Then she led
him on through the dark labyrinth, to where Berild was waiting, with
her dangerous beauty and all the evil of the ages in her soul.
X
They came out of the darkness so suddenly that Stark blinked in the
unaccustomed light of torches set in great silver sconces on the walls.
The floor had been artificially smoothed, but otherwise this crypt was
as the eroding action of the sea had shaped it out of the coral reef.
It was not large, and it was like a cavern in a fairy tale, walled and
roofed with the fantastic wreathing shapes of the rose-red coral. At
one end there was a golden coffer set with flaming jewels.
Berild was there. Her wonderful hair was dressed and shining, and her
body was clothed all in white, her arms and shoulders warm bronze from
the kiss of the desert sun.
Kynon was there, also. He stood motionless and silent, and he did not
so much as turn his head when Fianna and Stark came in. His eyes were
wide open and blank as a blind man's.
"I have been waiting," said Berild, "and the time is short."
She seemed angry and impatient, and Stark said, "Freka is dead. It was
necessary to hide his body."