"Yet he felt close to you. Wanted to fight to keep you from me. That's
another thing. Why did you ask me if I wanted you?"
She smiled a little, with a certain shy humor. "Do not all things on
Dondromogon belong to Yandro?"
I smiled back. "Doriza, perhaps I should act complimented. Yet it seems
to me that Gederr and Elonie told you to make the offer. And I'm not
sure--I can say this to my personal aide, can't I?--that I want any
favors at their hands."
"Or at mine?" And she smiled again.
"Come off it, Doriza, you're not the best of flirts. Shall we take a
drink together? It wasn't pleasant, killing that man, though you don't
seem to mourn him."
Back in the great chamber, a sort of cloud of light was thrown in
the center by several reflectors, and a sort of motion picture show
was going on in the midst of it. I drank much, but the wine did not
affect me greatly. Finally I felt tired, and said so. Gederr and Doriza
escorted me to sumptuous apartments, where I quickly slept.
I do not know how many hours I lay asleep, but I woke refreshed. A
breakfast of strange synthetic foods was waiting, on a lift that rode
up in a slot of the wall. I ate with relish, took a brisk shower in a
room behind my sleeping quarters, and resumed the costume of Yandro.
Then came a buzz at the door, and a voice came through a speaker
system: "Gederr requests that Yandro admit him."
I opened the door. Gederr was there, and Doriza behind him. I felt the
gaze of her blue eyes, very soft and pretty. Gederr smiled respectfully.
"We have talked much about the duel, we of the Council. It is agreed
that great Yandro's value is more than inspirational. If a single
combat could be arranged, with some champion of the Newcomers, ill be
their fate! Some boasting successor to Barak--"
"Barak," I repeated and wondered again why his name stuck so in my
fogged mind. "I--I do not know how to say it, but I seek no quarrel
with Barak. I do not fear him, or anyone else; but I do not wish to
fight him."
"Barak is dead," snapped Gederr, quite ungraciously. "Yandro need have
no apprehensions."
"I have said I fear nobody," I reminded, stiff and lofty.
Gederr bowed. "Who could doubt it? But to return to our talk of battle;
at the South Pole an inner blaze of flame from within Dondromogon has
kept opposing forces from contacting each other. Only here at the
North Pole can we fight, and there has been a lull since--since the
destruction of their champion, Barak. We have taken advantage to hollow
out a great pocket underground. See, I will show you."
He went to a little televiso screen, and switched on the power, then
dialed. I saw a great domed cavern, larger than the hemisphere room
of last night's recreation period. Around its edges toiled men with
ray-batons, shaping and enlarging.
"Elsewhere we have set up cunning defenses," explained Gederr. "Great
force-fields, that interfere with their digging advance. But at one
point we have purposely allowed their advance tunnels to come along
easily. What you see here is behind that point. We fall back--"
"Fall back?" I repeated.
* * * * *
Gederr winked. "Their forces will follow, and fill this chamber.
Beyond, we have entrenchments, sortie tunnels, weapons. And the
floor of the chamber is mined--enough explosive even to wreck those
power-shields. Their van, with its heavy equipment, will perish. We'll
wipe out the others easily!"
"How many?" ventured Doriza.
"Who can say?" Gederr responded. "They are many, but most of them must
work to sustain life and action in the section of Dondromogon they have
seized. They have not the sunken cities, the synthesizing advances, the
other time-seasoned devices for living that we have developed. Several
hundred fighting men, not many more than ours, are all that can be sent
against us."
"Are they brave?" I demanded.
"They have stubborn courage. They will rush after their comrades who
fall. Perhaps if we capture a few, they will try a rescue. It will
bring them to defeat--us to glory!"
His voice rose in exultation, and I chose to disagree.
"Not glory, Gederr. We can claim cunning for such a plan--yes. The
pride of successful ambush and deceit--yes. But there is hardly any
glory in trickery. Not as I see it, anyway."
He bowed again. "Great Yandro is bravest of the brave, but his thoughts
are those of the First Comers, ages ago. He does not understand modern
sophistication and practicality."
"I understand the practicality," I assured him, "but I don't glory
in it. A fair combat, like the one last night with Rohbar, is like a
game--grim, but like a game. Not so these strategems and pitfalls,
which are only an unpleasant job to be done."
"The strategems need not affect Yandro," stated Gederr. "As for a
simple single combat, I say that will be arranged. We broadcast,
Yandro will remember, a warning and a challenge. The enemy has sent
back a message that they are making ready a fighter to face anyone we
can furnish."
"I see," said I. "Well, they speak my language." Both Doriza and
Gederr started violently, and stared. "Probably they are simple of
battle-viewpoint, like me. They'll blunder easily into your trap." I
said those last two words to assure Gederr that I considered the whole
deception his. "Now, when is all this to happen?"
"Perhaps within twenty hours. Perhaps within thirty."
"I feel like a puppet," I said. "Like the figurehead poor Rohbar
called me. Perhaps I am, and perhaps it is as well, because I'm not
in tune with your strategy. Understand me, I see its need and its
practicability. That is all I see, though."
"Will Yandro walk forth?" asked Doriza. "There are troops waiting to be
reviewed."
We went into a corridor, and entered one of the purring vehicles. It
took us away--toward the fighting sector, I judged--and I dismounted in
a great low stretch of subterranean cavern. This was lighted by great
glowing bulbs hung to the ceiling, and men were drawn up in triple
rows, armed and at attention. An officer was speaking to them, and
toward one side stood the two unarmed men, under guard.
"Not yet, mighty Yandro," counselled Doriza beside me. "There is--a
ceremony."