The Callistan harper went to the door. Reflected light painted him
briefly, white fur and scarlet crest and outlandish harp, and the
glowing, angry eyes.
He vanished. Out of nowhere the harp began to sing.
Through the partly opened door Campbell had a clear view of the square
and the gate. In all that glare of light on empty stone nothing moved.
And yet the music rippled out.
The guards. Campbell could see the startled glitter of their eyeballs
in the light. There was nothing to shoot at. The harping was part of
the night, as all-enveloping and intangible.
Campbell shivered. A pulse beat like a trip-hammer under his jaw.
Stella's voice came to him, a faint breath out of the darkness.
"The Baraki is shielding him with thought. A wall of force that turns
the light."
The edge of the faint light touched her cheek, the blackness of her
hair. Marah crouched beyond her, motionless. His hook glinted dully,
curved and cruel.
They were getting only the feeble backwash of the harping. The
Callistan was aiming his music outward. Campbell felt it sweep and
tremble, blend with the hot slow wind and the indigo sky.
It was some trick of vibrations, some diabolical thrusting of notes
against the brain like fingers, to press and control. Something about
the double-banked strings thrumming against each other under the
cunning of four skilled hands. But it was like witchcraft.
"The Harp of Dagda," whispered Stella Moore, and the Irish music in her
voice was older than time. The Scot in Campbell answered it.
Somewhere outside a man cursed, thickly, like one drugged with sleep
and afraid of it. A gun went off with a sharp slapping sound. Some of
the guards had fallen down.
The harp sang louder, throbbing along the grey stones. It was the slow
wind, the heat, the deep blue night. It was sleep.
The floodlights blazed on empty stone, and the guards slept.
The Baraki sighed and shivered and closed his eye. Campbell saw the
Callistan harper standing in the middle of the square, his scarlet
crest erect, striking the last thrumming note.
Campbell straightened, catching his breath in a ragged sob. Marah
picked up the Baraki. He was limp, like a tired child. Stella's eyes
were glistening and strange. Campbell went out ahead of them.
It was a long way across the square, in the silence and the glaring
lights. Campbell thought the harp was a nice weapon. It didn't attract
attention because everyone who heard it slept.
He flung back the three heavy bars of the slave gate. The pain of his
burned hands jarred him out of the queer mood the harping and his
Celtic blood had put on him. He began to think again.
"Hurry!" he snarled at the Kraylens. "Hurry up!" They came pouring out
of the gate. Men, women with babies, little children. Their crests
burned in the sullen glare.
Campbell pointed to Marah. "Follow him." They recognized him, tried to
speak, but he cursed them on. And then an old man said,
"My son."
Campbell looked at him, and then down at the stones. "For God's sake,
Father, hurry." A hand touched his shoulder gently. He looked up again,
and grinned. He couldn't see anything. "Get the hell on, will you?"
Somebody found the switch and the nearer lights went out.
The hand pressed his shoulder, and was gone. He shook his head
savagely. The Kraylens were running now, toward the house. And then,
suddenly, Marah yelled.
Men were running into the square. Eight or ten of them, probably
the bodyguard of the burly grey-haired man who led them. Beside the
grey-haired man was Tredrick, Overchief of the Terran Quarter of Romany.
* * * * *
They were startled. They hadn't been expecting this. Campbell's
battle-trained eye saw that. Probably they had been making a routine
tour of inspection and just stumbled onto the crash-out.
[Illustration: _Campbell swung about, blasted shots at Tredrick and his
men, while Stella pressed the Kraylens to greater speed in escaping._]
Campbell fired, from the hip. Anaesthetic needles sprayed into the
close-packed group. Two of them went down. The rest scattered, dropping
flat. Campbell wished there had been time to kill the gate lights. At
least, the shadows made shooting tricky.
He bent over and began to run, guarding the rear of the Kraylen's line.
Stella, in the cover of the doorway, was laying down a methodical wall
of needles. Campbell grinned.
Some of the Kraylens caught it and had to be carried. That slowed
things down. Campbell's gun clicked empty. He shoved in another clip,
cursing his burned fingers. A charge sang by him, close enough to stir
his hair. He fired again, blanketing the whole sector where the men
lay. He wished he could blow Tredrick's head off.
The Kraylens were vanishing into the house. Marah and the Callistan had
gone ahead, leading them. Campbell groaned. Speed was what they needed.
Speed. A child, separated from his mother in the rush, knelt on the
stones and shrieked. Campbell picked him up and ran on.
Enemy fire was slackening. Stella was doing all right. The last of the
Kraylens shoved through the door. Campbell bounded up the steps. Stella
got up off her belly and smiled at him. Her eyes shone. They were
halfway through the door when the cold voice said behind them,
"There are lethal needles in my gun. You had better stop."
Campbell turned slowly. His face was wooden. Tredrick stood at the
bottom of the steps. He must have crawled around the edge of the
square, where the shadows were thick under the walls.
"Drop your gun, Campbell. And you, Stella Moore."
Campbell dropped it. Tredrick might be bluffing about those needles.
But a Mickey at this stage of the game would be just as fatal. Stella's
gun clattered beside him. She didn't say anything, but her face was
coldly murderous.
Tredrick said evenly, "You might as well call them back, Campbell. You
led them in, but you're not going to lead them out."
It was funny, Campbell thought, how a man's voice could be so cold when
his eyes had fire in them. He said sullenly,
"Okay, Tredrick. You win. But what's the big idea behind this?"
Tredrick's face might have been cut from granite, except for the feral
eyes. "I was born on Romany. I froze and starved in those rotten hulks.
I hated it. I hated the darkness, the loneliness, the uncertainty. But
when I said I hated it, I got a beating.
"Everybody else thought it was worth it. I didn't. They talked about
freedom, but Romany was a prison to me. I wanted to grow, and I was
stifled inside it. Then I got an idea.
"If I could rule Romany and make a treaty with the Coalition, I'd have
money and power. And I could fix it so no more kids would be brought up
that way, cold and hungry and scared.
"Marah opposed me, and then the Kraylens became an issue." Tredrick
smiled, but there was no mirth or softness in it. "It's a good thing.
The Coalition can take of Marah and you others who were mixed up in
this. My way is clear."
Stella Moore said softly between her teeth, "They'll never forgive you
for turning Romany people over to the _latniks_. There'll be war."
Tredrick nodded soberly. "No great change is made without bloodshed.
I'm sorry for that. But Romany will be happier."
"We don't ask to be happy. We only ask to be free."
Campbell said wearily, "Stella, take the kid, will you?" He held out
the little Kraylen, droopy and quiet now. She looked at him in quick
alarm. His feet were spread but not steady, his head sunk forward.
She took the child. Campbell's knees sagged. One seared arm in a
tattered green sleeve came up to cover his face. The other groped
blindly along the wall. He dropped, rather slowly, to his knees.
The groping hand fell across the gun by Stella's foot. In one quick
sweep of motion Campbell got it, threw it, and followed it with his own
body.
* * * * *
The gun missed, but it came close enough to Tredrick's face to make him
move his head. The involuntary muscular contraction of his whole body
spoiled his aim. The charge went past Campbell into the wall.
They crashed down together on the stones. Campbell gripped Tredrick's
wrist, knew he couldn't hold it, let go with one hand and slashed
backward with his elbow at Tredrick's face.
The gun let off again, harmlessly, Tredrick groaned. His arm was
weaker. Campbell thrashed over and got his knee on it. Tredrick's other
fist was savaging his already tortured body.
Campbell brought his fist down into Tredrick's face. He did it twice,
and wept and cursed because he was suddenly too weak to lift his arm
again. Tredrick was bleeding, but far from out. His gun was coming up
again. He didn't have much play, but enough.
Campbell set his teeth. He couldn't even see Tredrick, but he swung
again. He never knew whether he connected or not.
Something thrummed past his head. He couldn't say he heard it. It was
more like feeling. But it was something deadly, and strange. Tredrick
didn't make a sound. Campbell knew suddenly that he was dead.
He got up, very slow, shaking and cold. The Callistan harper stood in
the doorway. He was lowering his hands, and his eyes were living coals.
He didn't say anything. Neither did Stella. But she laughed, and the
child stirred and whimpered in her arms.
Campbell went to her. She looked at him with queer eyes and whispered,
"I called him with my mind. I knew he'd kill."
He took her face in his two hands. "Listen, Stella. You've got to lead
them back. You've got to touch my mind with yours and let me guide you
that way, back to the ship."
Her eyes widened sharply. "But you can come. He's dead. You're free
now."
"No." He could feel her throat quiver under his hands. Her blood was
beating. So was his. He said harshly,
"You fool, do you think they'll let you get away with this? You're
tackling the Coalition. They can't afford to look silly. They've got to
have a scapegoat, something to save face!
"Romany, so far, is beyond planetary control. Slap your tractors on
her, tow her out. Clear out to Saturn if you have to. Nobody saw
the Callistan. Nobody saw anybody but me and the Kraylens and an
unidentifiable somebody up here on the porch. Nobody, that is, but
Tredrick, and he won't talk. Do you understand?"
She did, but she was still rebellious. Her sullen lips were angry, her
eyes bright with tears and challenging. "But you, Roy!"
He took his hands away. "Damn you, woman! If I hide out on Romany I
bring you into Spaceguard jurisdiction. I'll be trapped, and Romany's
last chance to stay free will be gone."