It was a red dawn, for the sun rose behind the dust that still hovered
over the track of the southbound herd. In the west the sky was dark
blue above the flatly shimmering water of the great dead sea.
The whole terrapin tribe, save for the indispensable lookouts, was
assembled in the open space of the ringed camp. A hush lay on them as
they gazed on the prisoner in their midst--honored last night among his
peers, this morning guilty of hideous treason. There was no need for
trial; it only remained to condemn him.
A cool, salt breeze blew from over the lake and stirred Torcred's
tousled black hair. His gray eyes were bloodshot and staring.
Helsed was there, insinuating himself into the council of elders at the
chief's elbow, and mumbling implacable hatred past swollen lips and
missing teeth. His clearest and oftenest-repeated word was "Death!"
Vazcled's face was set in sorrowful lines; there was regret and a
hopeless question in the old man's eyes as they met Torcred's.
A small voice beside Torcred asked, "What are they going to do,
terrapin?"
He half-turned and really saw the girl for the first time that morning.
She was composed, her blue eyes unafraid.
"I don't know," muttered Torcred. "This has never happened before--not
in anyone's memory." In his mind were horrific legends heard in
childhood, but he tried not to repeat those even to himself.
Vazcled's first words were to the girl. He asked, "Who are you,
stranger? What is your race?"
She returned his gaze, decided to answer. "My name is Ladna, and I
am of the race of birds." Torcred realized that he had not known her
name before; it had not occurred to him that such remote beings used
names....
"Who brought you to this place?"
The girl's lips tightened; deliberately she turned her back on the
chief and stared away over the lake. She seemed oblivious of all the
hostile eyes around--in particular the swarthy faces of the terrapin
women reflected unpleasant ideas as they greedily ogled this creature
of the air.
"No matter," Vazcled said heavily. "The criminal stands
self-accused.... Have you any explanation of your conduct, Torcred the
Terrapin?"
Torcred shook his head dumbly.
"Then--" the chief turned to the elders, "there is question only of the
punishment."
Helsed thrust himself forward eagerly. "Death!" he mouthed. "Such a
crime deserves no less!"
The chief looked at him coldly. "Did I ask your advice?" he inquired
bitingly.
Helsed beat a retreat. "I am sorry.... But it is true that I have a
special grievance in this matter...."
"Be quiet!" snapped Vazcled.
The oldest member of the council spoke, and the rest listened
respectfully. "Everyone knows the story of Fuwu, who took to himself a
dragon woman. He was cast out of the tribe according to the ritual, and
left to die in the desert with his seductress--a sentence lighter and
heavier than mere death, and one which did not stain the hands of the
tribe with the blood of a terrapin."
The other judges nodded in token of their remembrance and approval of
the precedent. The chief saw their decision, and faced the prisoners
again. At this curt command the guards seized Torcred and thrust him
forward unresisting. Vazcled, knife in hand, looked him in the eyes,
his face a stern formal mask. He intoned:
"Torcred the Terrapin, your sin is past forgiveness. I pronounce you
outcast and abhorred; none shall take notice of you any more, either
to help or hurt. You are no longer one of us; we give you to the
wilderness. Torcred, no longer Terrapin, I mark you as such!"
The knife point rose and made two quick motions. Torcred did not
flinch; on his forehead was a tau cross in oozing drops of blood. The
chief bent, took a pinch of sand, and rubbed it into the wound to make
sure that it would scar--if the victim lived that long.
Vazcled turned away. "Cast them out!" he ordered over his shoulder, to
the guarding warriors.
"The girl too?" Helsed asked hastily; his eyes lingered.
"Of course!" rasped the chief. "It is the tradition--and what else
should we do?"
Helsed licked his battered lips nervously. "Of course," he agreed.
"What else?"
V
Torcred sat, head sunk limply in his hands, on the white salt beach
facing the lifeless sea. The throb of motors and swirl of dust behind
the departing terrapins had died down in the south; instead of hunting
today as planned from this camp, they had left the spot that had become
accursed. And Torcred sat numb with despair, passively waiting for the
end.
Near him Ladna, the bird-girl rose to her feet. She looked in the other
direction, out over the lifeless waste of sand, and then at the man's
slumped, motionless figure.
Her voice was hard and scorn-edged. "So--a terrapin shorn of his armor
is less than a bird clipped of her wings?"
Torcred raised his head and looked at her glassy-eyed. "You heard," he
growled. "I'm not a terrapin any more."
"You'll always be a terrapin to me," she said. "A miserable, beaten
crawler."
He stared without understanding. Around them was the thirsty, deadly
desert; the sun was hot already, his mouth was dry, and the poisonous
sea lapped mockingly at its flat shore. The girl had been ready to die
when her aero crashed--but now her slender body was vibrant with the
will to live.
But her bitter words could not fail of effect. Torcred stumbled erect
and snapped, "I'm not beaten until I'm dead! But--what chance do we
have?"
She accepted the _we_ with a faint smile, and said in a softer tone,
"There is an aero eyrie--not my own, but one with which we have
friendly relations--about seventy miles east of here, in those blue
mountains you can see. Perhaps we can make it there on foot."
"That's all very well for you," said Torcred somberly. "But for
me--what could I expect from your people?"
"We are not so narrow-minded as the terrapins. We see more and tolerate
more. You can be taken in and given tasks to perform in return for
your keep." She frowned at his doubt, and explained further, "Some
day--soon--we birds will rule all the Earth. And we do not want to wipe
out all the other races; we'll preserve them to do the jobs that must
be done on the ground, and all of our people will be free to fly."
The picture of conquest she painted so naively repelled Torcred, reared
in the terrapin tradition of a barbaric individualistic freedom. "You
offer me slavery," he said harshly.
"No, no," protested Ladna. "According to our law, you will be free to
leave if you wish." He snorted. "And--" she hesitated, "I will be in
the same condition, now that I have lost my wings."
Torcred stared at the ground, shrugged. "It's better than dying
here--perhaps. And we may not make it. How fast can one travel on foot?"
"Ten miles an hour?" the girl hazarded.
"Less than that, I think. It will be a long way--and I know of no water
holes." Ladna shook her head at the question in his glance. "It may be
impossible to walk that far without water; I never heard of anyone's
doing it. But we can try."
* * * * *
The blue flat-topped mountains still shimmered unreally, far away as
ever, across the heated plain. The sun was at its height and the sand
was blistering. The two huddled in the scant shadow of a dune. Both
were sunburned, maddeningly thirsty, and discouraged. They could not
have covered more than a dozen miles before the heat had driven them to
seek shelter.
They talked very little; as the burning midday dragged on, Ladna slept
for a time. When she woke she looked round feverishly, and a moan
escaped her lips.
"What's the matter?" asked Torcred.
"I was dreaming," the girl said in a choked voice, and, shockingly, two
tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Don't cry," ordered Torcred harshly. "We've got to conserve all
possible moisture."
She bit her lip, and no more tears came.
When the shadows lengthened somewhat they set out again to the east.
During the morning they had seen some signs of life--had flattened
themselves on the ground while a cavalcade of fire-breathing dragons
passed one by one along the crest of a distant ridge, the long snouts
of their flame projectors thrusting before them, and had skirted a
colony of the queer crusty pillbox people who had sacrificed mobility
for an almost invulnerable security. But during the long afternoon the
desert seemed utterly empty. Only at dusk they saw, far over head,
three vast black shapes flying in wedge formation, and the drone of
motors beat down out of the hollow bowl of the sky.
"Buzzards!" whispered the girl, and shrank against the sand.
Torcred knew that the buzzards were the aero people's hereditary foes,
but that did not seem adequate to explain the bright bitterness of
hatred in the girl's eyes.... He was about to ask a question, when his
eyes caught movement in the near distance and he froze, mouth open.
A hundred paces ahead on the way they had been going, atop a low mound,
stood a figure--a man in queer garments, not identifiable with any of
the races Torcred knew. When the Terrapin tried to make out his face,
the man seemed to waver in the fading light; then he raised a hand in a
gesture beckoning them toward him.
The bird-girl, back to the apparition, looked wide-eyed wonder. Torcred
croaked wordlessly and pointed; and with the motion the stranger was
gone from the ridge.
"What's the matter?" asked Ladna puzzledly.
"Nothing," Torcred managed to get out. "The shadows play tricks...."
As they crossed the rise, Torcred halted to tie a bootlace that didn't
need tying. There were no tracks in the soft sand. Torcred remembered
fearfully what he had heard of the visions that heralded death by
thirst--but even sane people saw things that weren't there, such as the
phantom lakes that had mocked them in the midday heat.
But he had been sure that vision was looking at him....
Two or three miles further on, it was almost dark. Torcred sank wearily
down in the lee of a high ridge. "We'd better stop here. Perhaps a
night's sleep will give us strength."