"A god! Bah! I've lived here long enough to learn things. Haven't you
wondered where all these people came from? Why they speak archaic
English? Look at this!"
His hand on Althaya's shoulder slid the short jacket down to bare a
tattoo mark on her white flesh. He grinned as she angrily shrugged the
jacket into place. "Medical cases. Amnesiac spaceshock. Memories gone.
Speech centers sound. Body normal. Perfect specimens to populate a new
planet.
"Who brought 'em here, Thorssen? Not a god!"
The pirate laughed huskily. "Althaya and I--we're making them into
our people. People to attack Kohonnes and get his secret. It's really
too bad for you. You might join us instead of spending a week on her
altar under the best torture-knives she owns. You'll be begging for
death before the first day is over. And there'll be seven more of 'em,
Thorssen--a day of agony for each of the years you've hounded me. Eight
years, eight days."
Althaya clapped her hands. Big men, naked to their waists that were
covered with twisted loin-clothes, padded in on bare soles. Althaya
said, "Take them to the cells. Tomorrow at dawn, bring them to
Kohonnes' altar. We will make a sacrifice to the All."
* * * * *
The rising sun was tinting the flat onyx altar with red stains when
they put Grim on it. His ankles and his wrists were lashed so tightly
that the skin was puffy and swollen around the cording. Staring upward,
the Viking throwback saw an outcropping lip of blackish basalt hanging
like a sea-wave caught in stone right above him. A weirdly bent tree
dropped wire-like branches toward him, from which hung triangular red
leaves.
Beneath the altar, and all around this rostrum of stone, was a scarlet
marker. By craning his head beyond Althaya and Randolph, who stood
rubbing his hands together and gloating, Grim could see the crimson
band.
"I hope your voice is in good shape, Thorssen," chuckled the pirate. "I
want to hear you yell loud and long. I've waited a long time for this!"
Althaya clapped her hands abruptly, and a big man with a broken
nose flat against his face and tiny eyes that glittered cruelly
stepped forward. A thin knife, curved and barbed, was in his right
hand. The redhead said, "They are bringing Tlokine now. When she is
here--commence, Tagat."
They crowded around the altar, waiting. Grim could see the tense,
excited faces. Randolph craned forward, a muscle in his cheek dancing
with eagerness. Althaya licked at her crimson mouth with her tongue.
And beyond them, among the leather-jerkined men-at-arms, Tlokine stared
with horrified eyes from her pale white face.
Tagat grinned and brought the knife down. Almost tenderly he placed the
razor-like edge to Grim's naked ribs. He looked slyly up at Althaya.
Randolph cried hoarsely, "Hurry up! Waiting is as much torture to me
as that knife is going to be to him."