She smiled, as if I had complimented her. "Oh, the man was up for
elimination. He was supernumerary. Of course, if he had succeeded
in his capture of prisoners and one of the devices that make those
power-shields--"
I remembered what Stribakar had said to Gederr. "He was brave," I said,
"and it was a shame that he had to die. You want me to be a leader in
war like that? I have other ideas of warfare."
All of them looked at me, and one spoke from behind Gederr: "We had
hoped that Yandro would say that. Yandro means to lead us in person--in
a great and decisive battle."
"At least it would be cleaner than this mole-digging and sneaking," I
said hotly.
Gederr rose. "Sporr, tune in whatever terminal you can find among the
Newcomers. I shall say something to them."
Obediently Sporr manipulated levers, push-buttons and dials near the
speaking-tube. Gederr crossed to it and spoke harshly:
"Newcomers, ill be your fate! Your defeat is at hand! We give you
warning! Our engines will burrow a mighty cave near the north pole. Let
you come there, with all your hosts--and so shall we, so shall we!"
His voice rose to a scream. "With us--leading us--comes the greatest
fighter that Dondromogon has ever known, and the sight of him shall
_break your hearts_!"
My ears rang, as the ears of all listeners must have rung, with those
last words. Gederr turned away, and Sporr dialed the power off.
"Now," Gederr said, "is there not some plan for amusement? A pleasant
hour in the Pavilion? Great Yandro's heart is troubled--for it is as
great as himself--by thoughts of war and its pains. Let him come with
us for solace."
"Amen to that," said Elonie, and she walked toward me. I rose, and she
slid her bare arm through mine. Her face was close to mine, smiling and
full of invitation. It seemed that Doriza was going to say something,
but Elonie spoke first: "He will need no military aide, Doriza. Nothing
military about the Pavilion, you remember."
We walked out together--Elonie and myself, then the others. We found
a wider corridor, and one full of hum and motion. The smooth floor
of the passage was seamed with metal-shod grooves, in which moved
vehicles--ovoid vehicles, of various sizes, balancing, it seemed,
on one whirring wheel apiece. Elonie escorted me to one such car,
which stood poised on its wheel like a dancer on tiptoe. There was
room inside for the two of us only, among luxurious cushions. At her
respectful invitation I sat inside, and she operated controls.
"Thus we travel in this city," she chatted as we rolled along. "Not
swiftly, of course, in this nor in our other city, near the South Pole.
The real speed is in the way-tunnels between."
"Way-tunnels the width of a world?" I asked, wondering. "How can only
seven hundred persons do such work?"
"You saw the ray-digger on the televiso. There are larger and more
complex diggers of that type, by which we can journey almost anywhere
underground--clear through the core of Dondromogon and up into Newcomer
lands, were it not for the inner fires. Perhaps we shall dig them out
by the roots in time, despite their defenses."
Once again I thought of so much science and wealth, and of people dying
because their rulers thought seven hundred were none too few to enjoy
the benefits of a world.
We stopped down a fork of the vehicle-corridor, and Elonie dismounted
before another of the metal curtain-doors. At her touch of a button and
a word into a speaking tube, it opened to us. We passed into a smaller
passageway, and then out into a place of aching beauty.
My first impression was of pastel lights, changing and mingling
constantly--blue, violet, pink, green, orchid, pale. They struck from
starlike points in a great domed ceiling, over a floor like a mirror.
And the pastel-tinted air was filled with music, soft but penetrating
and heady. There was a breeze from somewhere, scented and warm. In
and out of other doorways across the floor wandered figures, male and
female, murmuring together and helping themselves to cups from great
trestles and tables.
"The refreshments are provided," Elonie told me softly. "We need not
wait for the others. Come, Yandro. They have poured wine--Yandro knows
what wine is? And we have music, perfume, light, laughter, and for
companions all of Dondromogon."
"All?" I repeated.
"All save those on guard or garrison duty. Come, mighty one. Know
happiness that is worth fighting and conquering to keep."
She tugged at my arm, urging me toward the wine-tables.
And now there was a louder murmur, excitement and even apprehension, at
my entrance. I suppose I was an extraordinary figure--taller than any
person there, indeed none were anywhere near my height save the nobly
proportioned Elonie herself. And I was more sinewy, and darker, as if
of another race entirely. Timid memories struggled somewhere within
me, as if knocking at the closed doors of my consciousness. Somewhere,
somehow in the past, things had happened that might explain so much,
make my present position clearer to me.
Gederr was following close behind, muttering something to Doriza. Then
he pressed on beyond me, and mounted a sort of dais or platform.
"You of Dondromogon!" he called, and such was his voice, or perhaps the
acoustic properties of that hemispheric room, that all could hear him
easily. "Have you not heard rumors of a great happening? The ancient
legend of a mighty leader to come among us--"
"Yandro!" cried a deep-voiced fellow in the front belt of listeners.
His eyes were on me, studying, questioning.
"Yes, Yandro, champion of our cause, sent by the First Comers
themselves!" That was Elonie, and with a hand on my elbow she urged me
up on the platform beside Gederr.
Applause burst out, some of it a little drunken, but quite hearty and
honest. "Yandro!" cried the deep-voiced man again, and others took it
up: "Yandro! Yandro!" Whatever my own doubts, they had none.
Gederr held up an authoritative hand for silence. "He came from far in
space and time, and one look will assure you of his leadership. The
time for deliverance is at hand, men and women of Dondromogon! We trust
in mighty Yandro!"
There was louder applause, in the midst of which Gederr sidled close.
"Speak to them," he mumbled in my ear.
Like him, I lifted a hand for silence. It came, and I eyed my audience,
as I sought for words to speak.
* * * * *
The first thought that came was that, if Elonie were right and these
people were the selected best of the race, then Dondromogon was
decadently peopled. Not only were they smallish and mostly frail, but
few had a distinguished or aggressive cast of countenance. The Council
members had been wise-seeming, perhaps, but even they had not struck me
as healthy types. To one side stood Doriza, militarily at attention,
blue eyes fast upon me--she was a notable exception, compact and strong
and healthy of body and mind, and at the same time quite as feminine as
the more flashy and languorous Elonie just beside my platform. Through
the rear ranks of listeners moved old white-bearded Sporr, who had much
to say to certain members of the throng, perhaps explaining me and my
legend.
"Friends," I began at last, "I am new here. A little child might have
more experience of your ways and wishes. Yet it becomes apparent that
great service is expected of me, and such a service I would greatly
love to do."
"Hear! Hear! Wise are the words of Yandro!" Thus went up a new chorus.
I felt reassured, and spoke more confidently.
"Your Council has explained much. Now I come to the people represented
by that Council. If I am to help, you are to explain how. For the voice
of a people is seldom wrong or foolish."
"Wise are the words!" They chorused again, and the man with the deep
voice suddenly put up his hand and moved forward. I saw that he
had the armor and weapons of a soldier, and in one hand he held a
cup, from which he had been drinking. He was fairly well knit for a
Dondromogonian, and, though his face was simple, it was manly enough.
He cleared his throat diffidently.
"We have been told of Yandro's coming, throughout our halls and
dwellings," he began. "That he should ask for our word is an honor. But
since he asks, I make bold to reply--" He choked a little. "Peace!" he
cried hoarsely. "Peace--and comfort--"
"Peace! Peace!" cried the others around him, and "Peace!" bellowed
hundreds of voices.
I was a little perplexed. After the war-like talk of the Council, this
was different, and disturbing. But Gederr, beside me was not at a loss.
"Peace you shall have, as Yandro's gift!" he cried. "The Newcomers--ill
be their fate--have been warned and promised of his coming, and now
they shake in dread! He shall lead you to victory, complete victory,
and the fruits of victory!"
It was powerfully said, and the cheering was greater than ever. Under
cover of the din, Gederr took my elbow and escorted me from the
platform.
"They have been despondent, Yandro. They grow unwilling to face death
and wounds. But you have changed all that. Hark to their cries of your
name! Now there shall be no more speaking, only happiness."
Elonie had joined us again. Her hand dropped warmly over mine. "This
way," she bade. "This wine is for the Council only--the best on
Dondromogon. Honor us by taking some."
She gave me a goblet, of some transparent substance clasped in bright
metal, and brimming with a red liquor. I took it with a bow, and she
lifted her own goblet. As we drank together, I had another impression
of Doriza's studying, wondering eyes. Did the warrior-woman, appointed
as my military aide, disapprove? But the wine was excellent, and my
spirits rose.
"Come," said Elonie. Her arm was through mine again, warm and gently
urging. She led me toward a niche, set deep and shadowy into the wall.
There was a divan with cushions, and a table with cups and flagons
for drinking. The music had begun again, and some of the people were
dancing together.
"Yandro is gracious to grant me these moments alone," purred Elonie.
"Yandro is overwhelming."
"Can't we drop the third person?" I asked. "I do not feel much taste
for formalities."
She clutched at that with a little cry of gladness and her eyes and
smile were radiant. "You offer me intimacy!" she exclaimed. "It's
honor--it thrills--" She lifted her glass. "Drink again, I beg you! You
and I shall drink to each other."
"Why not?" I said, and touched her glass with mine. "To you, Elonie."
"To you, Yandro, my dear lord!"
* * * * *
The wine was galvanizingly strong. I felt my ears ring a little,
and--why not admit it?--Elonie's nearness and adulation were wine
in themselves. She leaned toward me on the divan, so that our bare
shoulders touched. Her lips, full and trembling, were very close.
"Yandro," she whispered. "Yandro ... you could make me happy, and
yourself happy, too...."
Suddenly I shook my head a little, to clear it. For her eyes, a moment
ago so fascinating, suddenly made me uneasy. It was as if claws had
reached from their brightness and fastened upon me. She steadfastly
fixed my gaze with hers.
"Yandro...." Her voice was soft, monotonous. "All is well with you ...
trust us, trust me, Elonie ... I shall guide you to victory, you need
have no qualms...."
Her arm stole across my chest, curved around my neck. She drew my head
toward hers. Her brilliant eyes seemed to fill the whole field of my
vision, impelling, hypnotic--
_Hypnotic--that was it!_
The strange half-lost thoughts from my unknown former life sized the
idea and held it up to me. Danger, danger, they were crying at me. Most
ungallantly I took her wrist and disengaged myself from her embrace.
"Since I am destined for war, is there time for this?" I asked, trying
to laugh.
"Is there not?" she murmured.
I rose from where I sat, and sipped more wine. Where it had fuddled
me before, it cleared me now. "Elonie, you are charming. I do not know
whether I have standards by which to judge, but you do things to men.
Perhaps I should have time to make up my own mind."
"If I have offended--" she began to stammer.
"Oh, not in the least. But there is so much for me to be sure of."
She, too, rose, and left me without a word. Had I made her angry?
Yet her last words had been of apology. I sat down again, alone and
mystified.
But I did not remain alone for more than two minutes. Outside the
niche, Elonie was talking to Gederr. Gederr scowled, nodded, then with
an air of inspiration beckoned to Doriza. Doriza joined them, listened
respectfully to Gederr. Finally she nodded, as if in acceptance of
orders, and walked toward me.
I rose to meet her. She looked me steadily in the eye, but when she
spoke it was hesitantly, and with a shyness most womanly, too womanly
for a military person.
"Great Yandro is not pleased with Elonie of the Council. Is it possible
that he would prefer another woman--me?"
Just like that, she offered herself. And if ever I had made up my mind
in a hurry, it had been to the effect that Doriza was nothing but
reserve and prudence.
What answer I might be able to give was suddenly unnecessary.
Just outside the niche angry voices rose. An officer, all fair beard
and flapping cloak, was accosting Gederr with something less than the
respect due a member of the Council.
"I say, she was promised to me--to me! And to me she goes, for my part
in bringing him to you!"
"Silence, Rohbar," commanded Gederr in a voice as sharp as a dagger,
but the officer pushed him roughly aside and strode into the niche.
It was the man who had interviewed me after my first capture. His pale
eyes gave off sparks in the subdued light, and one hand sought the hilt
of his pistol.
"Yandro, they call you!" he flung out. "Yandro, sent from out of space
and time to Dondromogon! Well, be that true or no, Doriza is not for
you--and deny me if you dare! I'll send you back out of space and
time, with whatever weapon you choose!"