“I’ll radio about your arrival so that word can be relayed to Kerk and the others.”
They left quietly in one of Rhes’s own boats and reached the rocky off shore islet before the sun touched the horizon. Rhes chopped a hole in the boat’s planking and they put in some heavy rocks. It sank nicely, and after that, all they could do was wait and admire the guano deposits and listen to the cries of the disturbed seabirds until the launch picked them up.
The flight was a brief one after the pilot, Clon, had nodded recognition at Jason, which was about all the enthusiastic Pyrran welcome he expected. At the grounded Felicity, the off watch was asleep, and the on watch, at their duty stations, so Jason saw no one. He preferred it this way because he was still tired from his journey. The Pyrran tribesmen were to arrive some time the following day and socializing could wait until then.
His cabin was just as he had left it, with the expensive library leering at him metallically from one corner. What had ever prompted him to buy it in the first place? A complete waste of money. He kicked at it as he passed, but his foot only skidded off the polished metal ovoid.
“Useless,” he said, and stabbed the on button. “What good are you, after all?”
“Is that a question?” the library intoned. “If so, restate and indicate the precise meaning of ‘good’ in this context.”
“Big mouth. All talk now, but where were you when I needed you?”
“I am where I am placed. I answer whatever questions are asked of me. Your question is therefore meaningless.”
“Don’t insult your superiors, machine. That is an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s better. I maketh and I can breaketh just as well.”
Jason dialed a strong drink from the wall dispenser and flopped into the armchair. The library flickered its little lights and hummed electronically to itself. He drank deep, then addressed the machine.
“I’ll bet you don’t think much of my plan to lick the natives and open the mine?”
“I do not know your plan; therefore I cannot give a judged opinion.”
“Well, I’m not asking you. I bet you think that you could think of a better plan yourself?”
“In which area do you wish a plan?”
“In the area of changing a culture, that’s where. But I’m not asking.”
“Culture, changing references will be found under ‘history’ and ‘anthropology.’ If you are not asking, I withdraw the reference.”
Jason sipped and brooded, and finally spoke.
“Well, I am asking. Tell me about cultures.”
Jason pressed the off button and settled back in his chair. The lights went out on the library and the hum faded into silence.
So it could be done after all. The answer had been right there in the history books all the time, if he had only had the brains to look. There were no excuses for the stupidity of his actions. He should have consulted the library but he had not. Yet, it still might be possible to make amends.
“Why not?!”
He paced the room, hitting his fist into the palm of his hand. The pieces might still be put back together if he played it right. He doubted if he could convince the Pyrrans that the new plan would succeed, or even that it was a good idea. They would probably be completely against it. Then he would have to work without them. He looked at his watch. The launch was not due to leave for the first pickup of Kerk and the others for at least another hour. Time enough to get ready. Write a friendly note to Meta and be deliberately vague about his plans. Then have Clon drop him off near Temuchin’s camp. The unimaginative pilot would do as he was told without asking questions.
Yes, it could be done, and by the stars he was going to do it.
19
Temuchin sprang suddenly into the camach, his drawn sword ready in his hand.
“Reveal yourself!” he cried. “My guard lies outside, struck down. Reveal yourself, spy, so that I may kill you.”
A hooded figure stepped from the darkness into the flickering light of the oil lamp and Temuchin raised his sword. Jason threw back the fur so his face could be seen.
“You!” Temuchin said in a hollow voice, and the sword slipped from his fingers to the ground. “You cannot be here. I killed you with these hands. Are you ghost or demon?”
“I have returned to help you, Temuchin. To open an entire new world to your conquest.”
“A demon, that you must be, and instead of dying, you returned home through Hell’s Doorway and gained new strength. A demon of a thousand guises, that explains how you could trick and betray so many peopie. The jongleur thought you were an off — wonder. The Pyrrans thought you were one of their tribe. I thought you a loyal comrade who would help me.”
“That’s a fine theory. You believe what you want. Then listen to what I have to tell you.”
“No! If I listen, I am damned.” He grabbed up the sword. Jason talked fast before he had to battle for his life.
“There are caves opening from the valley you call Hell’s Doorway. They don’t go to hell, but they lead down to the lowlands. I went there and returned by boat to tell you this. I can show you the way. You can lead an army through those caves and invade the lowlands. You rule here now, and you can rule there as well. A new continent to conquer. And you are the only man who could possibly do it.”
Temuchin lowered the sword slowly and his eyes blazed in the firelight. When he spoke, his voice was hushed, as though he were speaking only to himself.
“You must be a demon, and I cannot kill that which is already dead. I could drive you from me, but I cannot drive your words from my head. You know, as no living man knows, that I am empty. I nile these plains and that is the end of it. What pleasure in ruling? No wars, no conquests, no joy of seeing one’s enemy fall and marching on. Alone, by day and night I have dreamed about those rich meadows and towns below the cliffs. How even gunpowder and great armies could not stand against my warriors. How we would surprise them, flank them, besiege their cities. Conquer.”
“Yes, you could have all that, Temuchin. Lord of all this world.”
In the silence the lamp sputtered, tossing shadows of the two men to and fro. When Temuchin spoke again, there was resolve in his voice.
“I will have that, even though I know the price. You want me, demon, to take me to your hell below the mountains. But you shall not have me until I have conquered all.”
“I’m no demon, Temuchin.”
“Do not mock me. I know the truth. What the jongleurs sing is true, though I never believed it before. You have tempted me, I have accepted, I am damned. Tell me the hour and manner of my death.”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Of course not. You are bound as I am bound.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know how it was meant. By accepting all, I lose all. There is no other way. But I will have it like that. I will win first. That is true, demon, you will allow that?”
“Of course, you will win, and—”
“Tell me no more. I have changed my mind. I do not wish to know the manner of my end.” He shook his shoulders as though to remove some unseen weight, then thrust his sword back into the slings at his waist.
“All right, believe what you will. Just give me some good men and I’ll open up the passage to the lowlands. A rope ladder will get us into the valley. I’ll mark the route and take them through the caves to prove that it can be done. Then the next time we do it, the army will follow. Will they go-down there?”