VI

The castle stood atop one of the high gray cliffs which walled in a

little bay. Beyond the shore, the island climbed steeply toward a gaunt

mountain bare of jungle. The sea rolled sullenly against the rocks

under a low gloomy sky thickening with the approach of night.

The _Briseia_ rowed slowly into the bay, twenty men at the oars and the

rest standing nervous guard by the rails. On either side, the Xanthi

cavalry hemmed them in, lancers astride the swimming cetaraea with eyes

watchful on the humans, and behind them three great sea snakes under

direction of their sorcerers followed ominously.

Imazu shivered. "If they came at us now," he muttered, "we wouldn't

last long."

"We'd give them a fight!" said Corun.

"They will receive us," declared Shorzon.

The ship grounded on the shallows near the beach. The sailors

hesitated. To pull her ashore would be to expose themselves almost

helplessly to attack. "Go on, jump to it!" snapped Imazu, and the men

shipped their oars and sheathed their weapons, waded into the bay and

dragged the vessel up on the strand.

The chiefs of the Xanthi stood waiting for them. There were perhaps

fifty of the reptiles, huge golden forms wrapped in dark flowing robes

on which glittered ropes of jewels. A few wore tall miters and carried

hooked staffs of office. Like statues they stood, waiting, and the

sailors shivered.

Shorzon, Chryseis, Corun, and Imazu walked up toward them with all

the slow dignity they could summon. The Conahurian's eyes sought the

huge wrinkled form of Tsathu, king of the Xanthi. The monster's gaze

brightened on him and the fanged mouth opened in a bass croak:

"So you have returned to us. You may not leave this time."

"Your majesty's hospitality overwhelms me," said Corun ironically.

A stooped old Xanthian beside the king plucked his sleeve and hissed

rapidly: "I told you, sire, I told you he would come back with the

ruin of worlds in his train. Cut them all down now, before the fates

strike. Kill them while there is time!"

"There will be time," said Tsathu.

His unblinking eyes locked with Shorzon's and suddenly the twilight

shimmered and trembled, the nerves of men shook and out in the water

the sea-beasts snorted with panic. For a long moment that silent duel

of wizardry quivered in the air, and then it faded and the unreality

receded into the background of dusk.

Slowly the Xanthian monarch nodded, as if satisfied to find an opponent

he could not overcome.

"I am Shorzon of Achaera," said the man, "and I would speak with the

chiefs of the Xanthi."

"You may do so," replied the reptile. "Come up to the castle and we

will quarter your folk."

At Imazu's order, the sailors began unloading the gifts that had been

brought: weapons, vessels and ornaments of precious metals set with

jewels, rare tapestries and incenses. Tsathu hardly glanced at them.

"Follow me," he said curtly. "All your people."

"I'd hoped at least to leave a guard on the ship," murmured Imazu to

Corun.

"Would have done little good if they really wanted to seize her,"

whispered the Conahurian.

It did not seem as if Tsathu could have heard them, but he turned and

his bass boom rolled over the mumbling surf: "That is right. You may as

well relax your petty precautions. They will avail nothing."

* * * * *

In a long file, they went up a narrow trail toward the black palace.

The Xanthian rulers went first, with deliberately paced dignity,

thereafter the human captains, their men, and a silent troop of armed

reptile soldiery. _Hemmed in_, thought Corun grimly. _If they want to

start shooting_--

Chryseis' hand clasped his, a warm grip in the misty gloom. He

responded gratefully. She came right behind him, her other hand on the

nervous and growling erinye.

The castle loomed ahead, blacker than the night that was gathering,

the gigantic walls climbing sheer toward the sky, the spear-like

towers half lost in the swirling fog. There was always fog here, Corun

remembered, mist and rain and shadow; it was never full day on the

island. He sniffed the dank sea-smell that blew from the gaping portals

and bristled in recollection.

They entered the cavernous doorway and went down a high narrow corridor

which seemed to stretch on forever. Its bare stone walls were wet

and green-slimed, tendrils of mist drifted under the invisibly high

ceiling, and he heard the hooting and muttering of unknown voices

somewhere in the murk. The only light was a dim bluish radiance from

fungoid balls growing on the walls, a cold unhealthy shadowless

illumination in which the white humans looked like drowned corpses.

Looking behind, Corun could barely make out the frightened faces of

the Umlotuans, huddled close together and gripping their weapons with

futile strength.

The Xanthi glided noiselessly through the mumbling gloom, tall spectral

forms with faint golden light streaming from their damp scales. It

seemed as if there were other presences in the castle too, things

flitting just beyond sight, hiding in lightless corners and fluttering

between the streamers of fog. Always, it seemed, there were watching

eyes, watching and waiting in the dark.

They came into a cavernous antechamber whose walls were lost in the

dripping twilight. Tsathu's voice boomed hollowly between the chill

immensities of it: "Follow those who will show you to your quarters."

Silent Xanthi slipped between the human ranks, herding them with

spears--the sailors one way, their chiefs another. "Where are you

taking the men?" asked Imazu with an anger sharpened by fear. "Where

are you keeping them?" The echoes flew from wall to wall, jeering

him--_keeping them, keeping them, them, them_--

"They go below the castle," said a Xanthian. "You will have more

suitable rooms."

_Our men down in the old dungeons_--Corun's hand whitened on the hilt

of his sword. But it was useless to protest, unless they wanted to

start a battle now.

The four human leaders were taken down another whispering, echoing

tunnel of a corridor, up a long ramp that seemed to wind inside one of

the towers, and into a circular room in whose walls were six doors.

There the guards left them, fading back down the impenetrable night of

the ramp.

* * * * *

The rooms were furnished with grotesque ornateness--huge hideously

carved beds and tables, scaled tapestries and rugs, shells and jewels

set in the mold-covered walls. Narrow slits of windows opened on the

wet night. Darkness and mist hid Corun's view of the ground, but the

faintness of the surf told them they must be dizzyingly high up.

"Ill is this," he said. "A few guards on that ramp can bottle us up

here forever. And they need only lock the dungeon gates to have our men

imprisoned below."

"We will treat with them. Before long they will be our allies," said

Shorzon. His hooded eyes were on Chryseis. It was with a sudden shock

that Corun remembered. Days and nights of bliss, and then the violence

of battle and the tension of approach, had driven from his mind the

fact that he had never been told what the witch-pair was really here

for. It was _their_ voyage, not his, and what real good could have

brought them to this place of evil?

He shoved his big body forward, a tawny giant in the foggy chill of

the central room. "It is near time I was told something of what you

intend," he said. "I have guided you and taught you and battled at your

side, and I'll not be kept blindfolded any longer."

"You will be told what I tell you--no more," said Shorzon haughtily.

"You have me to thank for your miserable life--let that be enough."

"You can thank me that you're not being eaten by fish at the bottom

of the sea right now," snapped Corun. "By Breannach Brannor, I've had

enough of this!"

He stood with his back against the wall, sweeping them with ice-blue

eyes. Shorzon stood black and ominous, wrath in the smoldering, sunken

eyes. Chryseis shrank back a little from both of them, but Perias the

erinye growled and flattened his belly to the floor and stared greenly

at Corun. Imazu shifted from foot to foot, his wide blue face twisted

with indecision.

"I can strike you dead where you stand," warned Shorzon. "I can become

a monster that will rip you to rags."

"Try it!" snarled Corun. "Just try it!"

Chryseis slipped between them and the huge dark eyes were bright with

tears. "Are we not in enough danger now, four humans against a land of

walking beasts, without falling at each other's throats? I think it is

the witchcraft of Tsathu working on us, dividing us--fight _him_!"

She swayed against the Conahurian. "Corun," she breathed. "Corun, my

dearest of all--you shall know, you shall be told everything as soon as

we dare. But don't you see--you haven't the skill to protect yourself

and your knowledge against the Xanthian magic?"

_Or against your magic, beloved._

She laughed softly and drew him after her, into one of the rooms.

"Come, Corun. We are all weary now, it is time to rest. Come, my dear.

Tomorrow--"