At the same moment he saw the wizard under his banner, and the wizard saw him. Instantly, guards formed to block his path. Hoping that Chu Lao’s attention was distracted, he hurled himself sideways from his saddle, and Starlight rose on her hind legs, kicking furiously. The guards went flying.
The camel afforded only an instant’s respite, though. She was slashed across the forelegs the moment she touched ground with them. Hao Sen ignored her dying wails and fought onward, his sword sweeping an arc of death. Twice glancing blows made his helmet ring; twice he felt his sword-point slow and then free itself in a manner that meant it had cut clean through flesh. A dismembered arm seemed for one wild moment trying to catch hold of him by the beard.
Then he was through, and into the circle of enchanted ground surrounding the wizard.
“Chu Lao!” he shouted. “Chu Lao!”
The wizard, astonished, gazed at him — and yet that wasn’t only astonishment. There was — sardonic amusement…
Hao Sen rushed on. “Chu Lao, I name your city!”
All over the battlefield men seemed to lose heart for the fight. As though struck by a premonition, Chu Lao wavered.
“The city is Tiger City! That tiger is your city! And the tiger is less powerful than the dragon!”
How it happened could not be seen, but where the city had stood was a green-eyed striped cat, crouching and snarling, its claws unsheathed and huge beyond imagining.
“My tiger!” cried Chu Lao. “Yes, that is my tiger!”
“And this sword has drunk a dragon’s blood!” Hao Sen shouted “This sword is my dragon!”
He whirled the blade once around his head and flung it sparkling into the air; as it twisted, it changed, and as it fell it fell on four gigantic taloned feet. It raised its spiny head and waved its monstrous tail. Its open jaws roared defiance at the tiger.
It reared up. It slashed, and its talons added stripes of blood to the tiger’s hide. It bit, and rivers of blood stained the earth. Vainly the tiger clawed at its impenetrable scales. It had no chance. In moments it was struck down, with a thud to shake the world. Everything was riven apart, and with it Hao Sen.
For an instant he saw the rival armies, the gory ground, the dead and dying, and—
And it was over and he was Howson, not Hao Sen, and he was full of a nameless terror because of the way he had won.
20
He stood at the end of the bed where they had put Choong to recover, waiting for him to wake up. Meantime, he had no refuge from his thoughts.
I think that Miss Moreno knew — at any rate, she left so quickly, before I’d slept off my exhaustion… And Pak knows, but I can trust him after the times we’ve worked together…
Pandit Singh, of course, had no inkling of the terrible truth which had come to Howson. He was going around radiating paternal pride, and all the UN people — Lockspeiser and Ho and everybody — were feeling apologetic for doubting him in the first place, and Howson felt mainly a dull ache.
His triumph, had been a sham. The whole business had been set up like tenpins for him, and he had been given an unlimited number of balls.
And here was Choong, who had treated him like a plaything, who was happily married and physically whole, and the world was so grossly unjust he didn’t know how long he could stand it.
Choong stirred, and it was as though a gigantic light had been switched on in the room; everything stood out in bright three-dimensional forms compared to which there had been grey dusk. That was his perception waking up. Only another telepathist would have realized there was a difference.
His eyes opened. There was a moment of blankness. Then:
I seem to know you… ?
“Yes, you know me. Gerald Howson.” Deliberately he used words; he was shutting down every batten he could over his raging mind. “You’ve made a fool of me, haven’t you? Well, I want to know why !”
There was another blank moment during which Choong ordered his thoughts with a swiftness which impressed Howson despite his preconceived anger.
“So you handled my — ah — case,” Choong said, and gave a wry smile. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have thought it necessary to bother you, of all people. A comparative novice should have been assigned to me. I thought I’d made it pretty clear that I wasn’t on the run, and would be willing to be brought back.”
Howson almost choked before he could reply; when he did, it was with such a blaze of fury that he used projection instead of words.
How can you be so casually selfish? Don’t you care about the worry and trouble you’ve caused? Don’t you care about the annoyance to me personally? What about the time I wasted — time I could have given to somebody in real need?
Choong cried out and put his hand to his head. The door of the room slammed back and a nurse looked in to ask what was wrong. Recovering, Choong waved her away, and with a suspicious glance at Howson she complied.
“You have some power on you!” Choong said. “Do you mind sticking to speech ? My mind feels rather — ah — bruised from your earlier shock tactics.”
Howson remained sullenly mute.
“Did it honestly not occur to you that I wouldn’t resist?” Choong pursued. “Yes, I see it was so, right up till the last moment! I find that astonishing, if you’ll forgive my saying so. You must have jumped to the conclusion that the only reason a telepathist could wish to set up a catapathic grouping was to escape; it never struck you that I might simply wish to exercise my talent for its own rewarding sake!”
“Don’t gloat,” Howson muttered. “I know I could never have dragged you back if you hadn’t co-operated.”
“No, I think you’re missing the point.” Choong activated the headboard of the bed and got himself into a more comfortable position from which to look at Howson. “Damn it, How-son, you wouldn’t blame a man with physical gifts for enjoying himself at sports. Yet it seems to me that you have a block against the idea that telepathy can be used for pleasure. Why ? You have a fabulous talent! And I’m by no means so sure you wouldn’t have got me back even if I had resisted — the sudden final inspiration was brilliant, and took me absolutely by surprise. Don’t you ever get any fun out of your gift? For instance, my wife and I usually link up before we go to sleep; I dream much more vividly than she does, and I like her to share my dreams.”
“I’m not married,” Howson said in a tight voice. Choong flashed an impolite glance into his mind, briefly vulnerable from the strength of his emotion. When he spoke again, it was with a change of manner.
“I’m sorry. That was tactless of me. But—”
“I—” Howson felt a stir of puzzlement. Why should he need to justify himself suddenly to this man who had put him to such trouble? But he did. Haltingly, he went on, “I’ve done that sort of thing. With a deaf-and-dumb girl I knew.”
“Well then! And you must enjoy your work to some extent. If for no other reason than that it makes a change to be a tough, resilient character capable of great physical effort.”
“I — yes, I do. I’m sometimes afraid of taking longer than necessary over a cure so that I can escape my limitations.” Howson licked his lips.
“That sounds dangerous,” Choong said judiciously. “My belief is that if you allowed yourself to derive more pleasure from your talent you wouldn’t be tempted to — ah — borrow other people’s fantasies.”
“What are you suggesting?” Howson demanded. “That I set up a catapathic grouping myself? How could I dare to? Even if I accepted your casual attitude towards them!” Vargas. and dust on his eyelids… “I wouldn’t have much incentive to come back to reality, would I? And whom could I trust to bring me back? I’ve demolished more catapathic groupings than anyone else alive — I know all the tricks and weak points On top of that, if someone did manage to fetch me back, what would happen to my confidence in my own ability?”