“Why,” Tymball paused to consider, “now that you mention it, he must have been one of the two Guardians. He was a Loarist-you couldn’t mistake the tunic. He wasn’t Terrestrial, either!”
“Did he wear the yellow orb?”
“No.”
“Then I know who he was. He’s Porin’s young friend. Go ahead.”
“There he stood!” Tymball was warming to his task. “He was some twenty feet above street level. You have no idea what an impressive figure he made with the glare of the Luxites lighting his face. He was handsome, but not in an athletic, brawny way. He was the ascetic type, if you know what I mean. Pale, thin face, burning eyes, long, brown hair.
“And when he spoke! It’s no use describing it; in order to appreciate it really, you would have to hear him. He began telling the crowd of the Lhasinuic designs; shouting what I had been whispering. Evidently, he had gotten them from a good source, for he went into details-and how he put them! He made them sound real and frightening. He frightened me with them; had me standing there scared blue at what he was saying; and as for the crowd, after the second sentence, they were hypnotized. Every one of them had had ‘Lhasinuic Menace’ drilled into them over and over again, but this was the first time they listened-actually listened .
“Then he began damning the Lhasinu. He rang the changes on their bestiality, their perfidy, their criminality-only he had a vocabulary that raked them into the lowest mud of a Venusian ocean. And every time he let loose with an epithet, the crowd stood upon its hind legs and let out a roar. It began to sound like a catechism. ‘Shall we allow this to go on?’ cried he. ‘Never!’ yelled the crowd. ‘Must we yield?’ ‘Never!’ ‘Shall we resist?’ ‘To the end!’ ‘Down with the Lhasinu!’ he shouted. Kill them!’ they howled.
“I howled as loud as any of them-forgot myself entirely.
“I don’t know how long it lasted before Lhasinuic guards began closing in. The crowd turned on them, with the Loarist urging them on. Did you ever hear a mob yell for blood? No? It’s the most awful sound you can imagine. The guards thought so, too, for one look at what was before them made them turn and run for their lives, in spite of the fact that they were armed. The mob had grown into a matter of thousands and thousands by then.
“But in two minutes, the alarm siren sounded-for the first time in a hundred years. I came to my senses at last and made for the Loarist, who had not stopped his tirade a moment It was plain that we couldn’t let him fall into the hands of the Lhasinu.
“The rest is pretty much of a mixup. Squadrons of motorized police were charging down on us, but somehow, Ferni and I managed between the two of us to grab the Loarist, slip out, and bring him here. I have him in the outer room, gagged and tied, to keep him quiet.”
During all the last half of the narrative, Kane had paced the floor nervously, pausing every once in a while in deep consideration. Little flecks of blood appeared on his lower lip.
“You don’t think,” he asked, “that the riot will get out of hand? A premature explosion-”
Tymball shook his head vigorously, “They’re mopping up already. Once the young fellow disappeared, the crowd lost its spirit, anyway.”
“There will be many killed or hurt, but- Well, bring in the young firebrand.” Kane seated himself behind his desk and composed his face into a semblance of tranquility.
Filip Sanat was in sad shape as he kneeled before his superior. His tunic was in tatters, and his face scratched and bloody, but the fire of determination shone as brilliantly as ever in his fierce eyes. Russell Tymball regarded him breathlessly as though the previous hour’s magic still lingered.
Kane extended his arm gently, “I have heard of your wild escapade, my boy. What was it that impelled you to do so foolish an act? It might very well have cost you your life, to say nothing of the lives of thousands of others.”
“For the second time that night, Sanat repeated the conversation he had overheard-dramatically and in the minutest detail.
“Just so, just so,” said Kane, with a grim smile, upon the conclusion of the tale, “and did you think we knew nothing of this? For a long time we have been preparing against this danger, and you have come near to upsetting all our carefully laid plans. By your premature appeal, you might have worked irreparable harm to our cause.”
Filip Sanat reddened, “Pardon my inexperienced enthusiasm-”
“Exactly,” exclaimed Kane. “Yet, properly directed, you might be of great aid to us. Your oratory and youthful fire might work wonders if well managed. Would you be willing to dedicate yourself to the task?”
Sanat’s eyes flashed, “Need you ask?”
Loara Paul Kane laughed and cast a jubilant side-glance at Russell Tymball, “You’ll do. In two days, you shall leave for the outer stars. With you, will go several of my own men. And now, you are tired. You will be taken to where you may wash and treat your cuts. Then, you had better sleep, for you shall need your strength in the days to come.”
“But-but Loara Broos Porin-my companion at the Flame?”
“I shall send a messenger to the Memorial immediately. He will tell Loara Broos of your safety and serve as the second Guardian for the remainder of the night. Go, now!”
But even as Sanat, relieved and deliriously happy, rose to go, Russell Tymball leaped from his chair and grasped the older Loarist’s wrist in a convulsive grip.
“Great Space! Listen!”
The shrill, keening whine that pierced to the inner sanctum of Kane’s offices told its own story. Kane’s face turned haggard.
“It’s martial law!”
Tymball’s very lips had turned bloodless, “We lost out, after all. They’re using tonight’s disturbance to strike the first blow. They’re after Sanat, and they’ll have him. A mouse couldn’t get through the cordon they’re going to throw about the city now.”
“But they mustn’t have him.” Kane’s eyes glittered. “We’ll take him to the Memorial by the Passageway. They won’t dare violate the Memorial.”
“They have done it once already,” came Sanat’s impassioned cry. “I won’t hide from the lizards. Let us fight.”
“Quiet,” said Kane, “and follow silently.”
A panel in the wall had slid aside, and toward it Kane motioned.
And as the panel closed noiselessly behind them, leaving them in the cold glow of a pocket Atomo lamp, Tymball muttered softly, “If they are ready, even the Memorial will yield no protection.”
New York was in ferment. The Lhasinuic garrison had mustered its full strength and placed it in a state of siege. No one might enter. No one might leave. Through the key avenues, rolled the ground cars of the army, while overhead poised the Strato-cars that guarded the airways.
The Human population stirred restlessly. They percolated through the streets, gathering in little knots that broke up at the approach of the Lhasinu. The spell of Sanat lingered, and here and there frowning men exchanged angry whispers.
The atmosphere crackled with tension.
The Viceroy of New York realized that as he sat behind his desk in the Palace, which raised its spires upon Washington Heights. He stared out the window at the Hudson River, flowing darkly beneath, and addressed the uniformed Lhasinu before him.
“There must be positive action. Captain. You are right in that. And yet, if possible, an outright break must be avoided. We are woefully undermanned and we haven’t more than five third-rate war-vessels on the entire planet.”
“It is not our strength but their own fear that keeps them helpless. Excellency. Their spirit has been thoroughly broken in these last centuries. The rabble would break before a single unit of Guardsmen. That is precisely the reason why we must strike hard now. The population has reared and they must feel the whip immediately. The Second Drive may as well begin tonight.”
“Yes,” the Viceroy grimaced wryly. “We are caught offstride, but the-er-rabble-rouser must be made an example of. You have him, of course.”
The captain smiled grimly, “No. The Human dog had powerful friends. He is a Loarist, you know. Kane-”