II

They rose, but stood off respectfully. The officer spoke first. "I am

Rohbar, field commander of this defense position," he said with crisp

respect. "Sporr is a mystic doctor, full of godly wisdom. Doriza,

a junior officer and chief of the guard. And you--how could you

know?--are sent by the First Comers to save us from our enemies."

"Enemies?" I repeated.

"The Newcomers," supplemented Doriza. "They have taken the "Other Side"

of Dondromogon, and would take our side as well. We defend ourselves

at the poles. Now," and her voice rang joyously, "you will lead us to

defeat and crush them utterly!"

"Not naked like this," I said, and laughed. I must have sounded

foolish, but it had its effect.

"Follow me, deign to follow me," Sporr said. "Your clothing, your

quarters, your destiny, all await you."

We went out by the door at the rear, and Sporr respectfully gestured me

upon a metal-plated platform. Standing beside me, he tinkered with a

lever. We dropped smoothly away into a dark corridor, past level after

level of light and sound.

"Our cities are below ground," he quavered. "Whipped by winds above,

we must scrabble in the depths for life's necessities--chemicals to

transmute into food, to weave into clothing, to weld into tools and

weapons--"

The mention of food brought to me the thought that I was hungry. I said

as much, even as our elevator platform came to the lowest level and

stopped.

"I have arranged for that," Sporr began, then fell silent, fingers

combing his beard in embarrassment.

"Arranged food for me?" I prompted sharply. "As if you know I had come?

What--"

"Pardon, great Yandro," babbled Sporr. "I was saying that I arranged

food, as always, for whatever guest should come. Please follow."

We entered a new small chamber, where a table was set with dishes of

porcelain-like plastic. Sporr held a chair for me, and waited on me

with the utmost gingerly respect. The food was a pungent and filling

jelly, a little bundle of transparent leaves or scraps like cellophane

and tasting of spice, and a tumbler of pink juice. I felt refreshed and

satisfied, and thanked Sporr, who led me on to the next room.

"Behold!" he said, with a dramatic gesture. "Your garments, even as

they have been preserved against your coming!"

It was a sleeping chamber, with a cot made fast to the wall, a metal

locker or cupboard, with a glass door through which showed the garments

of which Sporr spoke.

The door closed softly behind me--I was left alone.

Knowing that it was expected of me, I went to the locker and opened

the door. The garments inside were old, I could see, but well kept and

serviceable. I studied their type, and my hands, if not my mind, seemed

familiar with them.

There was a kiltlike item, belted at the waist and falling to

mid-thigh. A resilient band at the top, with a series of belt-holes,

made it adaptable to my own body or to any other. Then came an upper

garment, a long strip of soft, close-woven fabric that spiralled

around the torso from hip to armpit, the end looping over the left

shoulder and giving full play to the arms. A gold-worked fillet bound

the brows and swept back my longish hair, knotting at the nape of the

neck. The only fitted articles were a pair of shoes, metal-soled and

soft-uppered, that went on well enough and ran cross-garters up to

below the knee, like buskins. The case also held a platinum chain for

the neck, a belt-bag, and a handsome sword, with clips to fasten them

in place. These things, too, I donned, and closed the glass door.

* * * * *

The light struck it at such an angle as to make it serve for a

full-length mirror. With some curiosity I gazed at my image.

The close-fitting costume was rich and dark, with bright colors only

for edgings and minor accessories. I myself--and it was as if I saw my

body for the first time--towered rather bluffly, with great breadth

of chest and shoulder, and legs robust enough to carry such bulk. The

face was square but haggard, as if from some toil or pain which was now

wiped from my recollection. That nose had been even bigger than it was

now, but a fracture had shortened it somewhat. The eyes were deep set

and dark and moody--small wonder!--the chin heavy, the mouth made grim

by a scar at one corner. Black, shaggy hair hung down like brackets.

All told, I looked like a proper person for physical labor, or even

fierce fighting--but surely no inspirational leader or savior of a

distressed people.

I took the military cloak which Doriza had lent me and slung it over my

shoulders. Turning, I clanked out on my metal-soled shoes.

Sporr was waiting in the room where I had eaten. His eyes widened at

sight of me, something like a grin of triumph flashed through his

beard. Then he bowed, supple and humble, his palms together.

"It is indeed Yandro, our great chief," he mumbled. Then he turned and

crossed the room. A sort of mouthpiece sprouted from the wall.

"I announce," he intoned into it. "I announce, I, Sporr, the reader and

fore-teller of wisdom. Yandro is with us, he awaits his partners and

friends. Let them meet him in the audience hall."

Facing me again, he motioned most respectfully toward the door to the

hall. I moved to open it, and he followed, muttering.

Outside stood Doriza. Her blue eyes met mine, and her lips moved to

frame a word. Then, suddenly, she was on her knee, catching my hand and

kissing it.

"I serve Yandro," she vowed tremulously. "Now and forever--and happy

that I was fated to live when he returned for the rescue of all

Dondromogon."

"Please get up," I bade her, trying not to sound as embarrassed as I

felt. "Come with me. There is still much that I do not understand."

"I am Yandro's orderly and helper," she said. Rising, she ranged

herself at my left hand. "Will Yandro come this way? He will be awaited

in the audience hall."

It seemed to me then that the corridors were vast and mixed as a

labyrinth, but Doriza guided me without the slightest hesitation past

one tangled crossway after another. My questions she answered with a

mixture of awe and brightness.

"It is necessary that we live like this," she explained. "The hot air

of Dondromogon's sunlit face is ever rising, and the cold air from

the dark side comes rushing under to fill the vacuum. Naturally, our

strip of twilight country is never free of winds too high and fierce to

fight. No crops can grow outside, no domestic animals flourish. We must

pen ourselves away from the sky and soil, with stout walls and heavy

sunken parapets. Our deep mines afford every element for necessities of

life."

* * * * *

I looked at my garments, and hers. There were various kinds of fabric,

which I now saw plainly to be synthetic. "The other side, where those

you call the Newcomers dwell and fight," I reminded. "Is it also

windswept? Why can two people not join forces and face toil and nature

together? They should fight, not each other, but the elements."

Doriza had no answer that time, but Sporr spoke up behind us: "Great

Yandro is wise as well as powerful. But the Newcomers do not want to

help, not even to conquer. They want to obliterate us. There is nothing

to do--not for lifetimes--but to fight them back at the two poles."

We came to a main corridor. It had a line of armed guards, but no

pedestrians or vehicles, though I thought I caught a murmur of far-off

traffic. Doriza paused before a great portal, closed by a curtainlike

sheet of dull metal. She spoke into a mouthpiece:

"Doriza, gentlewoman of the guard, conducts Yandro, the Conquering

Stranger, to greet his lieutenants!"

I have said that the portal was closed by a curtainlike metal sheet;

and like a curtain it lifted, letting us through into the auditorium.

That spacious chamber had rows of benches, with galleries above, that

might have seated a thousand. However, only a dozen or so were present,

on metal chairs ranged across the stage upon which we entered. They

were all men but two, and wore robes of black, plum-purple or red. At

sight of me, they rose together, most respectfully. They looked at me,

and I looked at them.

My first thought was, that if these were people of authority and trust

in the nation I seemed destined to save, my work was cut out for me.

Not that they really seemed stupid--none had the look, or the

subsequent action, of stupidity. But they were not pleasant. Their

dozen pairs of eyes fixed me with some steadiness, but with no

frankness anywhere. One man had a round, greedy-seeming face. Another

was too narrow and cunning to look it. Of the women, one was nearly

as tall as I and nobly proportioned, with hair of a red that would be

inspiring were it not so blatantly dyed. The other was a little wisp of

a brunette, with teeth too big for her scarlet mouth and bright eyes

like some sort of a rodent. They all wore jewelry. Too much jewelry.

My mind flew back to the two scrubby, venial guardsmen who had first

welcomed me; to stuffy Rohbar, the commander; to Sporr, spry and clever

enough, but somehow unwholesome; Doriza--no, she was not like these

others, who may have lived too long in their earth-buried shelters. And

Doriza now spoke to the gathering:

"Yandro, folk of the Council! He deigns to give you audience."

"_Yandro!_"

They all spoke the name in chorus, and bowed toward me.

Silence then, a silence which evidently I must break. I broke it:

"Friends, I am among you with no more memory or knowledge than an

infant. I hear wonderful things, of which I seem to be the center. Are

they true?"

"The tenth part of the wonders which concern mighty Yandro have not

been told," intoned Sporr, ducking his bearded head in a bow, but

fixing me with his wise old eyes.

One of the group, called Council by Doriza, now moved a pace forward.

He was the greedy-faced man, short but plump, and very conscious of

the dignified folds of his purple robe. One carefully-tended hand

brushed back his ginger-brown hair, then toyed with a little moustache.

"I am Gederr, senior of this Council," he purred. "If Yandro permits, I

will speak simply. Our hopes have been raised by Yandro's return--the

return presaged of old by those who could see the future, and more

recently by the death in battle of the Newcomer champion, called Barak."

"Barak!" I repeated. "I--I--" And I paused. When I had to learn my own

name, how could it be that I sensed memory of another's name?

"Barak was a brute--mighty, but a brute." Thus Gederr continued.

"Weapons in his hands were the instruments of fate. His hands alone

caused fear and ruin. But it pleased our fortune-bringing stars to

encompass his destruction." He grinned, and licked his full lips. "Now,

even as they are without their battle-leader, so we have ours."

"You honor me," I told him. "Yet I still know little. It seems that I

am expected to aid and lead and save the people of this world called

Dondromogon. But I must know them before I can help."

Gederr turned his eyes upon the woman with the red hair, and gestured

to her "Tell him, Elonie." Then he faced me. "Have we Yandro's

permission to sit?"

"By all means," I granted, a little impatiently, and sat down myself.

The others followed suit--the Council on their range of chairs, Doriza

on a bench near me, Sporr somewhere behind. The woman called Elonie

remained upon her sandalled feet, great eyes the color of deep green

water fixed upon me.

* * * * *

Elonie was taller than any of her fellow Council members, taller than

Sporr, almost as tall as I. Her figure was mature, generous, but fine,

and set off by a snugly-draped robe as red as her dyed cascade of hair.

Red-dyed, too, were the tips of her fingers, and her lips were made

vivid and curvy beyond nature by artificial crimson. She made a bow

toward me, smiled a little, showing most perfect white teeth. She began:

"Dondromogon began with the First Comers. Many ages they ruled here,

the Fifteen of them. Forever they were fifteen, for when one died,

another was bred; when one was born, the oldest or least useful was

eliminated. It was they who planned and began this shelter-city, found

the elements that support life and give comfort.

"Others came, from far worlds. The Fifteen changed their policy of a

fixed number, and became rulers of the new colonists. But after some

study, it was decided to set a new limit. Seven hundred was decided

upon, and seven hundred we still remain."

"Wait," I interrupted. "You mean that, when new children are born among

you, someone must die?"

She nodded. "Exactly as with the Fifteen. We eliminate the least

useful. Sometimes we eliminate the child itself. More often, an older

and worn-out individual."

I thought that I sensed an uncomfortable wriggle in Sporr, behind me.

"Why is this?" I demanded.

"Because, Yandro, there cannot be room and supplies enough for a

greater number."

I scowled to myself. So far I had seen luxury enough in Dondromogon's

chambers and tunnels. But there remained so much to learn. "Go on," I

bade her.

She nodded again, and obeyed: "Thus we on Dondromogon live and have

lived. This world is ours, its good and evil. But," and her voice, from

a soft, shy murmur, turned hard, "there are those who do not wish it

so. The Newcomers--the invaders!"

"Ill be their fate," growled Gederr beside her, as if rehearsed.

"They came to us, not long ago in years ... but I forget, Yandro does

not know as yet the length of Dondromogon's year, or Dondromogon's

day. They came, then, no longer ago than the time needed for a baby to

become a child."

Three years of my own reckoning I decided, and wished she had not

mentioned babies and children. I still disliked that arbitrary

survival-of-the-fittest custom. "Where did they come from?" I asked.

"Who can tell? Perhaps from the forgotten world where came our

ancestors. Somehow they had learned of our conquest here, our advances

and wealth-gathering in spite of natural obstacles. That is what they

hope to plunder from us, these conquering Newcomers!"

"Ill be their fate," repeated Gederr, and two or three of the Council

with him.

"But the winds are too high for a final battle to happen quickly. After

some fighting, they seized upon the other strip of habitable land,

on Dondromogon's other side. We fight them at the two poles--mostly

underground. Do you understand?"

"I seem to," I replied. "But now what about me? The story of Yandro?"

"Did not Sporr tell everything?" broke in Gederr. "He should have done

so. Sporr, the Council is not pleased."

"I had to go slowly," apologized the old man, and Elonie took up the

tale:

"It is known to all on Dondromogon. The days of the First Comers held

great minds that could see the future. Then it was foreseen that, in

Dondromogon's hour of peril and need, a time set by the destruction of

an enemy great and mighty--"

"Barak," I said aloud, still puzzling over that strangely familiar name.

"At that time," finished Elonie, "a leader to be called Yandro, the

Conquering Stranger, would come. Even clothing was supplied--clothing

not like that we wear today."

* * * * *

She gestured toward me. Indeed, the garments I wore were different from

those of my companions. I shook my head slowly, and tried to digest

what I had heard once again. But one bit of it still clamored for

rejection.

"About these eliminations," I harked back. "Who decides on which person

must die to keep the number down to seven hundred?"

"We do," replied Gederr, almost bleakly.

"And the Newcomers, have they a similar custom?"

"Not they, the greedy interlopers." Gederr looked very greedy himself.

"They delve and destroy in Dondromogon, feeding ever new spates of

arrivals."

"It seems," I offered, "that you would be well advised to grow in

number, and so win this war."

But Gederr shook his head. "We check-mate them at the two poles, where

the way into our territory is narrow. And more than seven hundred would

be hard to make comfortable."

"Friends, I do not like it," I stated flatly. "There seems to be

ruthlessness, and waste."

"Why waste?" spoke up another of the Council, the narrow man, whose

name was Stribakar. "This war has begun only recently, but it will last

forever. At least, so I see it."

"Now that Yandro is here, it shall be brought to an end," pronounced

Elonie, her green eyes fixed on me. "Will it please Yandro to see

something of this war?"

"Since you make it so much my business, I would be pleased indeed," I

told her, and Sporr rose from his seat. He went to an oblong of white

translucency, on a side wall of the stage within sight of us all. It

was about twice a man's height by thrice a man's width.

"The screen of a televiso," he said to me, and touched a dial beside

it. The screen lighted, with confused blurrings of color and movement.

He dialed quickly and knowingly.

"We see an underground passage," he said. "And those who dispute

therein."

I could see a gloomy stretch of earth-walled passage, lighted from

somewhere by a yellow radiance that became dim and brown toward one

end. I had no way of judging the true size of the object whose image

I saw, until I made out stealthy movement at the darker end. Sporr's

dialing made parts of the scene clear, and the movement proved to be

that of a human figure, prone and partially concealed in a depression

of the floor. That figure was no more than half-height, by which I

estimated the passage itself to be some fifteen or eighteen feet to the

top of its rough-dug ceiling.

"A scout," breathed Doriza beside me, pointing to the prone man. "See,

Yandro, he wears earth-colored cloth over his armor, and his arms and

face are smeared with mud. The thing he holds is a ray-digger, whereby

he burrows his way forward to the enemy.

"Enemy in the same tunnel with him?" I asked.

"Right." I saw her blond head dip. "Our tunnel broke into one of

theirs, by accident or plan. At point of contact, both forces are

cautious, fearing ambush. Now--"

She said no more. The scout on the screen was apparently creeping

forward through the solid soil of the floor, only the top of his head

and shoulders showing. Once or twice I saw the object he employed,

a baton-like tool of black metal with a bulb or ball at one end. It

emitted faint sparks and shudders of light, which melted or vaporized

the earth ahead of him.

"See! He senses danger near."

Indeed he did; for he paused, and took something else from his belt--a

disk the size of his palm. This he held close to his face, studying it.

"Televiso," explained Doriza. "It has limited power of identifying both

sound and sight near at hand. The scout knows that enemy approach."

* * * * *

Still working his dials, Sporr made the scene slide along. The bright

end of the tunnel came into view for some yards. All who watched leaned

forward excitedly.

"Newcomers," breathed Gederr, and added his familiar curse, "ill be

their fate! They have one of those vibration-shields."

"Warn the advance party," bade Stribakar, and Sporr, turning from his

dials, muttered quickly into a speaking tube.

The situation that thus interested and activated my companions was hard

to make out. I saw only an indistinct fuzziness in a sort of niche

against the tunnel wall. Doriza pointed.

"A vibration-shield," she told me. "The Newcomers have such things.

Some machine or other power stirs the molecules of air to such a new

tempo as to create a plane of force. No missile, no light even, can

penetrate. They are sheltered and all but indistinguishable. See, they

go forward."

The eddying cloud moved along the tunnel. We could see the scout again.

He tucked away his disk and employed the ray-digger. Quickly he sank

deeper and out of sight.

"Burrowing in," pronounced Gederr. "If he succeeds in what he hopes--"

"Spare him, you mean?" asked Stribakar, and Gederr nodded.

The eddying blotch that marked the power-shield of the invaders came

closer. I saw it approach the place where the scout had burrowed away.

It paused there, as if those hidden by it were investigating. Then--

"Brave fellow!" cried Elonie, like someone at an exciting sports event

or play.

The scout had dug himself a little channel beneath the floor. Now

he burst into view, beyond and behind the invaders. He held a

pistol-weapon in each hand. One spat sparks--some sort of pellets or

projectiles. The other was plainly a web-spinner like the one that

first had bound me, and this he poised ready for use.

His projectiles seemed to find an opening behind the power-shield. A

human form lurched into view--a glowing, writhing form, like a man

of red-hot metal. An agonized leap, a shudder, and the body fell,

abruptly falling into clinkered bits. A moment later, the power-shield

disturbance vanished, and there stood revealed two others, clad like

the scout in earth-colored jumper over armor.

"He got the power-shield man!" exulted Elonie. She was on her feet,

applauding wildly. In the same second, I saw the scout point and

discharge his spinner-gun. Whirling coils of cord struck, wound and

tangled the two foremen. The scout's bearded mouth opened, as if he

yelled in exultation.

But that was his last cry and action. Another eddy, larger and swifter,

suddenly came into the picture behind him. From it sprang a pale shaft

of light. The scout went down on his face as if in sudden prayer. He

moved no more.

Toward the dark end, Dondromogon figures seemed to move. There was a

great spatter of spark-pellets. But the eddy of the new power-shield

had scurried forward, enveloping and vanishing the two bound men. It

retired as quickly. No movement, no figure, except those of the dead

scout and the charred remains of the man he had killed.

"There will be little action here for some time to come," announced

Gederr. "Switch it off, Sporr."

Sporr did so. I shook myself, as if to rid my body of unpleasant

dampness and chill.

"Exciting," I said. "Unusual. I suppose this goes on all the time."

"Not all the time," Elonie demurred. "As Yandro has heard, the

battle-areas are limited, in the region of the poles. There is much

maneuvering, but not too much contact. This incident was an order."

"Order?" I repeated.

"We sent the man you saw, knowing that you would want this televiso

view of how we made war."

I snorted and faced her angrily. "You sent him to his death? So that I

could see a show? You value life very cheaply, Elonie."