Briefly he closed his eyes, swallowing, and as he did light flooded his head. For a moment he thought it had happened and waited for the explosion of pain at the nerve ends. But there was nothing, only the sense of being washed in brilliant light. Light, and the howling screeches of the daymen.
Ben turned, wincing, into the light. At the head of the valley, less than two hundred yards from where he knelt, a searchlight rotated slowly, focusing its powerful beam on the hillside, picking out a hundred fleeing figures.
He shielded his eyes with his right hand, then turned, looking back up the hillside. Only one of the daymen remained now, his hands on his hips, staring back defiantly, then he turned and walked away.
Ben shuddered, then stood and slowly turned, raising his hands.
A voice from within the light boomed out. "Ben? Ben Shepherd?"
He closed his eyes, surprised by the wash of relief he felt, the sheer joy at hearing his own name.
"Yes," he said quietly, knowing they could not hear him. "It's me, Ben Shepherd, back from the dark."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Dark Angel
THORN STOOD BESIDE the Myghtern's throne as the five were brought before him. He had spent a good part of the night and the first few hours of the morning briefing the Myghtern, yet he felt fresh, energized by the thought of the encounter.
He watched as they came down the long room toward the Myghtern; saw how they stood there, unbowed, before him, meeting his primitive fierceness with their own high arrogance.
"We have brought you a gift," said Hastings, stepping forward.
The Myghtern turned to Thorn, not understanding. He whispered in the big man's ear. "Present . . ."
The Myghtern turned back, smiling, and beckoned Hastings on. "Kerghes!"
Hastings looked to Thorn. "What did he say?"
"He said you should bring it."
Hastings turned and signaled for the gift to be brought forward. One of the Myghtern's stewards advanced, carrying a box draped in black cloth. He bowed, averting his eyes from his master, handed the gift to Hastings, then backed away. Hastings stepped forward onto the lowest of the steps that led up to the throne.
"With our deepest respect and best wishes, King Moyha."
Thorn translated, amused that the five did not know that Moyha was not his name, merely another part of his title—"Grandest." Like many barbarian chiefs he chose the most grandiloquent of titles— Myghtern Moyha—"Grandest of all Kings." Though maybe, for once, there was an element of truth in it, for was a king to be judged merely by the size of his domain?
He stood aside, watching as the Myghtern removed the cloth. Beneath it was a delicate golden cage and inside the cage a small black bird: a tiny thing, as black as nothingness itself, yet its eyes were golden, like polished orbs.
"A gift from the Above," Tynan said, smiling tightly as Thorn translated.
The Myghtern studied the bird a moment, then turned and handed it to Tak, who stood close by. When he turned back his face seemed grimmer. His hands gripped his knees tightly. He was anchored like a rock in his throne, his hugely muscled arms like something carved from oak. Slowly he surveyed the men before him, his eyes moving from one face to the next, then, one by one, gesturing at each with the index finger of his right hand, he named them.
"Fran-ke. No-len. Ha-stings. Ty-nan. Deng Li-ang." He nodded to himself, then turned to Thorn, giving a short bark of laughter. "Gowek . . . mes cref." Liars . . . but strong.
Thorn returned the Myghtern's smile, wondering if any of the five had bothered to learn anything of this bastard language, but he doubted it.
He stepped forward, standing between the Myghtern and the five. "I speak for the king," he began, seeing how Nolen and Tynan smiled at that. Unpleasant, ironical smiles. "He has told me what to ask from you, and what to give. You will deal with me." Hastings stepped back, looking to Tynan.
"You know who we are," Tynan said coldly. "You therefore know what we represent . . . the power we hold in our ten hands. What you have to understand is just what, together, we might achieve."
Until that moment Thorn had been guessing—toying with half-truths. Now, suddenly, he saw it whole. In that image of the ten hands he pictured what the connection was. No, not a single connection, but a web. A tightly woven web of connections. He listened, alert now. Whereas only moments before he had understood little, now he had it all. He needed only verbal confirmation.
"The Dispersion," he said calmly, confidently, as if he knew it for a fact. "You are all agents of the Dispersion."
Tynan smiled tightly. "Dispersionists. But tell the king this. Tell him he can have what he wants. Within limits, of course."
Thorn stared back at Tynan a moment, fixing him, then shook his head. "The Myghtern wants something else. Something you might think twice about giving him."
Tynan frowned, but it was Hastings who spoke next. "What does he want?" he asked, stepping up alongside Tynan.
Thorn felt the presence of the Myghtern in his throne behind him. Felt the power emanating from him; the raw, primal power of the man.
"He wants a wife. A bride from the Above."
Franke laughed contemptuously. "Impossible! Absurd!"
Thorn waited a second, then began again, speaking slowly, each word deliberate now. "He says that you will do this for him or he will drive you from his kingdom."
Nolen made to speak, then closed his mouth with a snap. He turned and looked to Tynan, who shook his head, but Hastings put his hand on Nolen's arm.
"Think. Just think before you say anything. And, Rutger . . . please, let me handle this."
There were exchanged glances, then Tynan gave Hastings a curt nod.
"He is determined," Thorn said, observing all. "He wants nothing else."
"For now . . ." Franke began, then fell silent as Hastings turned, a flicker of anger in his eyes.
"Tell him we are . . . reluctant, but . . ." Hastings sighed. "Thorn, you must know how things are. No woman from the Above would come down here. Not for any price. This place . . ." His eyes revealed the depths of his distaste. "It stinks. It's foul here, yes, even here where there's carpet on the floor and finery on the walls. It's . . ." He shrugged, unable to express the degree of his disgust.
"And yet you five are here. You want something." Thorn looked from face to face. "He means what he says. He'll arm the Clay against you if you deny him this."
Hastings nodded. "Okay. We agree. But it will take time. We cannot just buy a bride."
"Ten days," Thorn said. "That's all he gives you. Ten days."
"It's enough," said Tynan, winking at Nolen beside him.
Thorn turned, facing the Myghtern again. "Ya," he said.
The big man smiled, but his hands still gripped his knees, as if in torment. "Dres'n benen," he said. "Y'ethom dhym a."
The Above woman. I need her.
The audience was at an end. In the cage the bird turned on its perch, fluffing, out the darkness of its tiny feathers. And its golden eyes saw nothing.
MAJOR AXEL HAAVIKKO had set up his mobile operations room in the lower garden. His men were camped in the fields close by, their tents in neat rows facing the bay.
While Haavikko spoke to his General, Ben stood in the doorway of the half-track, listening in.
"But we have to go in now, sir, before they can prepare against us. If what Shepherd's told us is correct, all that's standing between us and his headquarters is an electrified mesh fence."
Rheinhardt stared back at his Major uncompromisingly, his close-shaven head giving him the appearance of a sophisticated thug.
"I have to disagree with you, Major. If we go in now we could ruin it all. Shepherd saw your operative, you say?"
"Yes, sir. The one called Thorn. He was standing beside the Myght-ern, it seems."