It needed some time to clean the day-old injuries, and necessarily it hurt. From time to time Kurt insisted Kta take a sip of telise,though it was only toward the end that Kta evidenced any great discomfort. Through it all Kta spoke little. When the injuries were clean and there was nothing more to be done, Kurt sat and looked at him helplessly. In Kta’s face the fatigue was evident. It seemed far more than sleeplessness or wounds,—something inward and deadly.
Kurt settled him flat again with a pillow under his head. Considering that he himself had been without sleep the better part of three days, he thought that weariness might be a major part of it: but Kta’s eyes were fixed again on infinity.
“Kta.”
The nemet did not respond and Kurt shook him. Kta did no more than blink.
“Kta, you heard me and I know it. Stop this and look at me. Who are you punishing? Me?”
There was no response, and Kurt struck Kta’s face lightly, then enough that it would sting. Kta’s lips trembled and Kurt looked at him in instant remorse, for it was as if he had added the little burden more than the nemet could bear. The threatened collapse terrified him.
Tired beyond endurance, Kurt sank down on his heels and looked at Kta helplessly. He wanted to go over to his own cot and sleep, he could not think any longer, except that Kta wanted to die and that he did not know what to do.
“Kurt.” The voice was weak, so distant Kta’s lips hardly seemed to move.
“Tell me how to help you.”
Kta blinked, turned his head, seeming for the moment to have his mind focused. “Kurt,—my friend, they—”
“What have they done, Kta? What did they do?”
“They want my help and—if I will not,—I lose my life, my soul. She will curse me from the earth,—to the old gods—the—” He choked, shut his eyes and forced a calm over himself that was more like Kta. “I am afraid, my friend, mortally afraid. For all eternity,—But how can I do what she asks?”
“What difference can your help make against Nephane?” Kurt asked. “Man, what pitiful little difference can it make one way or the other? Djan has weapons enough; Ylith has ships enough. Let others settle it. What are you? She has offered you life and your freedom, and that is better than you had of Djan.”
“I could not accept Djan-methi’s conditions either.”
“Is it worth this, Kta? Look at you! Look at you, and tell me it is worth it. Listen, I would not blame you; all Nephane knows how you were treated there. Who in Nephane would blame you if you turned to Indresul?”
“I will not hear your arguments,” Kta cried.
“They are sensible.” Kurt seized his arm and kept him from turning his face to the wall again. “They are sensible arguments, Kta, and you know it.”
“I do not understand reason any longer. The temple and the Methi will condemn my soul for doing what I know is right. Kurt, I could understand dying, but this—this is not justice. How can a reasonable heaven put a man to a choice like this?”
“Just do what they want, Kta. It doesn’t cost anyone much, and if you are only alive, you can worry about the right and the wrong of it later.”
“I should have died with my ship,” the nemet murmured. “That is where I was wrong. Heaven gave me the chance to die—in Nephane, in the camp of the Tamurlin, with Tavi.I would have peace and honor then. But there was always you. You are the disruption in my fate. Or its agent. You are always there—to make the difference.”
Kurt found his hand trembling as he adjusted the blanket over the raving nemet, trying to soothe him, taking for nothing the words that hurt. “Please,” he said. “Rest, Kta.”
“Not your fault. It is possible to reason—One must always reason—to know—”
“Be still.”
“If,” Kta persisted with fevered intensity, “if—I had died in Nephane with my father, then my friends, my crew—would have avenged me. Is that not so?”
“Yes,” Kurt conceded, reckoning the temper of men like Val and Tkel and their company. “Yes, they would have killed Shan t’Tefur.”
“And that,” said Kta, “would have cast Nephane into chaos, and they would have died, and come to join Elas in the shadows. Now they are dead,—as they would have died—but I am alive. Now I, Elas—”
“Rest. Stop this.”
“—Elas was shaped to the ruin of Nephane—to bring down the city in its fall. I am the last of Elas. If I had died before this I would have died innocent of my city’s blood. The crime would have been on Djan-methi’s hands. Then my soul would have had rest with theirs, whatever became of Nephane. Instead, I lived,—and for that I deserve to be where I am.”
“Kta,—hush. Sleep. You have a belly full of teliseand no food to settle it. It has unbalanced your mind. Please. Rest.”
“It is true,” said Kta, “I was born to ruin my people. It is just—what they try to make me do—”
“Blame me for it,” said Kurt. “I had rather hear that than this sick rambling. Answer me what I am, or admit that you cannot foretell the future.”
“It is logical,” said Kta, “that human fate brought you here to deal with human fate.”
“You are drunk, Kta.”
“You came for Djan-methi,” said Kta. “You are for her.”
Kta’s dark eyes closed—rolled back, helplessly. Kurt moved at last, realizing the knot at his belly, the sickly gathering of fear, dread of Guardians and Ancestors and the nemets reasoning.
Kta at last slept. For a long time Kurt stood staring down at him, then went to his own side of the room and lay down upon the cot, not to sleep, not daring to, only to rest his aching back. He feared to leave Kta unwatched, but at some time his eyes grew heavy, and he closed them only for a moment.
He jerked awake, panicked by a sound and simultaneously by the realization that he had slept.
The room was almost in darkness, but the faintest light came from the barred window over the table. Kta was on his feet, naked despite the chill, and had set the water bucket on the table, standing where a channel in the stone floor made a drain beneath the wall, beginning to wash himself.
Kurt looked to the window, amazed to find the light was that of dawn. That Kta had become concerned about his appearance seemed a good sign. Methodically Kta dipped up water and washed, and when he had done what he could by that means, he took the bucket and poured water slowly over himself, letting it complete the task.
Then he returned to his cot and wrapped in the blanket. He leaned against the wall, eyes closed, lips moving silently. Gradually he slipped into the state of meditation and rested unmoving, the morning sun beginning to bring detail to his face. He looked at peace, and remained so for about half an hour.
The day broke full, a shaft of light finding its way through the barred window. Kurt bestirred himself and straightened his clothing that his restless sleeping had twisted in knots.
Kta rose and dressed also, in his own hard-used clothing, refusing the Methi’s gifts. He looked in Kurt’s direction with a bleak and yet reassuring smile.
“Are you all right?” Kurt asked him.
“Well enough, considering,” said Kta. “It comes to me that I said things I would not have said.”
“It was the telise.I do not take them for intended.”
“I honor you,” said Kta, “as my brother.”
“You know,” said Kurt, “that I honor you in the same way.”
He thought that Kta had spoken as he did because there were hurrying footsteps in the hall. He made haste to answer, for fear that it would pass unsaid. He wanted above all that Kta understand it.
The steps reached their door. A key turned in the lock.
20
This time it was not Lhe who had charge of them, but another man with strangers around him, that had charge of them and they were taken not to the rhmei,but out of the fortress.
When they came into the courtyard and turned not toward the temple again, but toward the outer gate of the Indume complex, Kta cast Kurt a frightened glance that carried an unwilling understanding.
“We are bound for the harbor,” he said.