As we flew, many were the fields of charred Sa-Tarna we saw below us. The tarn" s shadow glided over the blackened frames of buildings, over broken pens from which livestock had been driven, over orchards that were now no more than felled trees, their leaves and fruit brown and withered. On the back of the tarn Lara wept to see the desolation that had come to her country.
"It is cruel what they have done," she said.
"It is also cruel what had been done to them," I said.
She was silent.
The army of Tharna had struck here and there, at reported hiding places of slaves, but almost invariably they had found nothing. Perhaps some broken untensils, the ashes of campfires. The slaves, forewarned of their approach by other slaves or by impoverished peasants, supplanted by the Great Farms, would have made good their departure, only to strike when ready, when unexpected and in strength.
The sorties of tarnsmen were more successful, but on the whole the slave bands, now almost regiments, moved only at night and concealed themselves during the day. In time it became dangerous for the small cavalries of Tharna to assault them, to brave the storm of missile weapons which would seem to rise almost from the very ground itself.
Often indeed ambushes were laid wherein a small band of slaves would allow itself to be trailed into the rocky passes of the ridge country about Tharna, where their pursuers would be assailed by hidden cohorts; sometimes tarnsmen would descend to capture a slave only to meet the arrows of a hundred men concealed in covered pits.
Perhaps in time, however, the undisciplined but courageous bands of slaves would have been scattered and destroyed by the units of Tharna, save that the very revolution which had begun in the mines and spread to the Great Farms now flamed in the city itself. Not only slaves of the city raised the banner of defiance but men of low caste, whose brothers or friends had been sent to the mines or used in the Amusements, now dared at last to seize the instruments of their trade and turn on guardsmen and soliders. It was said the rebellion in the city was led by a short, powerful man with blue eyes and short-cropped hair, formerly of the Caste of Metal Workers. Certain portions of the city had been burned to exterminate the rebellious elements and this cruel act of repression had only rallied confused and undecided men to the side of the rebels. Now it was said that entire portions of the city were in rebel hands. The silver masks of Tharna, when they were able, had escaped to the porions of the city still in the command of the soldiers. Many were reported to cower in the confines of the royal palace itself. The fate of those who had nor escaped rebel hands was not clear.
It was late in the afternoon of the fifth day that we saw in the distance the grey walls of Tharna. We were not threatened nor investigated by patrols. It was true that we could see tarnsmen and their mounts here and there among the cylinders, but none came to challenge us.
At several places in the city long ropes of smoke spiraled upward and then unravelled into vague, dark strands.
Down below a door hung open on its hinges, and small isolated figures scurried in and out. There were no tharlarion wagons or lines of woodsmen or pedlars making their way to or from the city. Outside the walls several small buildings had been burned. On the wall itself over the gate in huge letters there was scrawled the legend "Sa" ng- Fori", literally "Without Chains" but perhaps better translated simply as «Freedom» or «Liberty». We brought the tarn down on the walls near the gate. I freed the bird. There was no tarn cot at hand in which to enclose him, and moreover, even if there had been, I would not have trusted him to the tarn-keepers of Tharna. I did not know who was and who was not in rebellion. Perhaps mostly I wanted the bird to be free in case my hopes met with disaster, in case the Tatrix and I were to perish in some back street of Tharna. On the summit of the wall we encountered the crumpled form of a fallen guardsman. It moved slightly. There was a small sound of pain. He had apparently been left for dead and was only now recovering consciousness. His grey garment with its scarlet strip of cloth on the shoulder was stained with blood. I unbuckled the helmet strap and gently removed the helmet.
One side of the helmet had been cracked open, perhaps by the blow of an axe. The helmet straps, the leather inside, and the blond hair of the soldier were soaked with his blood. He was not much more than a boy. As he felt the wind on the walls reach his head he opened his greyish blue eyes. One hand attempted to clutch his weapon but the sheath had been emptied.
"Don" t struggle," I said to him, looking at the wound. The helmet had largelt absorbed the blow but the blade of the striking instrument had creased the skull, accounting for the flow of blood. Most likely the force of the blow had rendered him unconscious and the blood had suggested to his assailant that the job was finished. His assailant had apparently not been a warrior.
With a portion of Lara" s cloak I bound the wound. It was clean and not deep.
"You" ll be all right," I said to him.
His eyes looked from one of us to the other. "Are you for the Tatrix?" he asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I fought for her," said the boy, lying back against my arm. "I did my duty."
I gathered that he had not enjoyed the performance of his duty, and that perhaps his heart lay with the rebels, but the pride of his caste had kept him at his post. Even in his youth he had the blind loyalty of the warrior, a loyalty which I respected and which was perhaps no more blind than some I myself had felt. Such men made fearsome antagonists, eben though their swords might be pledged to the most despicable of causes.
"You did not fight for your Tatrix," I said evenly.
The young warrior started in my arms. "I did," he cried.
"No," I said, "you fought for Dorna the Proud, pretender to the throne of Tharna — a usurper and traitress."
The eyes of the warrior widened as they regarded us.
"Here," I said, gesturing to the beautiful girl at my side, "is Lara, the true Tatrix of Tharna."
"Yes, brave Guardsman," said the girl, placing her hand gently on his forehead as though to soothe him, "I am Lara."
The guardsman struggled in my arms, and then fell back, shutting his eyes with pain.
"Lara," he said, through closed lids, "was carried away by the tarnsmen in the Amusements."
"I am he," I said.
The greyish blue eyes slowly opened and gazed at my face for a long time, and gradually recognition transformed the features of the young guardsman. "Yes," said he, "I remember."
"The tarnsman," said Lara, speaking softly, "returned me to the Pillar of Exchanges. There I was seized by Dorna the Proud and Thorn, her accomplice, and sold into slavery. The tarnsman freed me and has now returned me to my people."
"I fought for Dorna the Proud," said the boy. His greyish blue eyes filled with tears. "Forgive me, true Tatrix of Tharna," he begged. And had it not been forbidden that he, a man of Tharna should touch her, a woman of Tharna, I think he would have reached his hand toward her.
To his wonder Lara took his hand in hers. "You did well," she said. "I am proud of you, my guardsman."
The boy closed his eyes and his body relaxed in my arms.
Lara looked at me, her eyes frightened.
"No," I said, "he is not dead. He is just young and he has lost much blood."
"Look!" cried the girl, pointing down the length of the wall.
Some six shapes, grey, carrying spears and shields were moving rapidly in my direction.