The light had already faded, and the Maker of Engines was a more comfortable presence. "This Luck-what is his true name?-is certainly very brave. The report I have from the Ulgan of Cullin does justice to him."

"He flies as well . . . as well as I do," murmured Black- lock. "And I smell more fire-metal-magic about the Tomar- van than any other machine in the Bird Clan."

"Murno, my firebrand," said Nantgeeb bitterly, "I have given my time, my riches, even those I might call my kin to this Bird Clan, and I grow weary of its wretched excesses.

Remember where you stand . . . if this place is accursed it is because I curse it. Once, long ago, I was an officer in the escort of Jebbal Faldroyan Luntroy."( 141 )."We are all sorrowing," said Blacklock, "and at least our team came through without accident. Will you speak with Antho and Spinner ... and take comfort from their safe- ty?III will see them soon enough."

"What is your will then?" asked Blacklock sulkily.

I will have this Garl Brinroyan and his Tomarvan as quickly as the winds can carry them, for the newcomer's safety. Dorn ... give my words to your Luck."

I pa.s.sed on the words as I was told, but the plans outlined were shocking to me. Blacklock and Diver must fly out together in their machines Dabkan and Tomarvan to a place far away, east of Rintoul, where Nantgeeb would be waiting. Agents of Tiath Gargan were supposed to be in Otolor; Diver's existence, even his ident.i.ty, might become well known now that he had won the Bird Clan.

I put this all to Diver exactly as it came to me, and he made the reply that I had already made in my mind. "Ask the Maker of Engines what is to become of Brin's Five?"

"They are very rich, with even a portion of the Bird Clan winnings. Let them take land or return to Hingstull; they have played their part."

"Not so!" exclaimed Diver. "For I am their Luck, and I will not leave them, especially in Otolor where danger threatens."

"My care is for your person and the knowledge you bring to Torin."

"You are the Maker of Engines, so I will give you mine to study. Let Fer Utovangan, or Antho, if that is his name, fly the Tomarvan and my scripts on its engines to your meeting place. I will go on with Brin's Five to Rintoul and ask for news of my air ship."

I can see why this new bird is your sib, Blacklock," said the Maker of Engines, "for he is as tender in his feelings and as stubborn as you are."

So it was arranged; I gripped Diver's hand with relief, for( 142 ).

I had seen our Luck s.n.a.t.c.hed away from us. But Nantgeeb was eager to have the Tomarvan. Blacklock promised to find us all pa.s.sage to Rintoul before he flew away also.

"Tell the Maker of Engines I look forward to a true meeting," said Diver.

"Tell Garl Brinroyan to take care," said the Maker of Engines.

I knew this was the end of our audience. A last whisper grated at my ear: "And do not ask in Rintoul for the air ship. Tiath Pentroy has losthis prize. I have it now."

Diver sprang up when I said this and questioned the empty air, but Nantgeeb's presence had been withdrawn.

Blacklock walked about flexing his shoulder musdes like a weary omor and cursing under his breath. "Garl Brinroy- an, this is an old quarrel you have come upon. Nantgeeb hates the Bird Clan," he said.

"I like it less than I did," said Diver, "but with your help, Murno, my good friend, we will fly by all these nets."

Blacklock smiled again and even laid a hand on my head to make me more cheerful. "Escort, you have served your Luck well!"

We walked all together out of the silken tent into the sunlight of the New Year and made our way, through subdued cheers and salutations, to the green tent, garland- ed now, where Brin and Ablo were waiting.

When I saw Brin again, my eyes stung with tears, like a child who does not cry after a fall until its mother brings promi~e of comfort. But I did not weep. We sat in the tent, and I reported faithfully all that had pa.s.sed. The task of making these reports, as a Witness must do sometimes, is not easy, and I did not envy Narneen, who was going to have a lifetime of it.

Brin turned to Diver when all had been told. "We have a great Luck," she said, "not because he wins the Bird Clan, but because he is faithful to his bond."( 143 ).

9.I.THE CLOSING CEREMONIES OF THE BIRD CLAN were shortened because of jebbal's death on the field. Even so they took several hours, part of them spent in sorting and counting our winnings. These were lodged in five wheeled wicker caskets, each one big enough to contain two or three Moruians, inside the Launcher's pavilion. Ablo was given a generous share and left to head a guard chosen from Blacklock's escort; this pleased him almost as much as the cloth and credits he had won.

The gates had already been opened, and the members of the Bird Clan were streaming across to the fairgrounds to celebrate the New Year. A bridge of decorated barges stood at the river gate; the double bridge past the citadel was twined with flowers. Flying machines still pa.s.sed overhead, taking their leave. Diver instructed Fer Utovangan in the control of the Tomarvan, and he flew a brief practice flight.

It was arranged that Fer and Blacklock should fly out the next day or the day after that.

"I will care for this bird of yours," said Fer. "No harm will come to the Tomarvan, and I hope you will fly in it again." For he could see that Diver loved the flying machine and did not really wish to part with it.( 144 ).

At last we were ready to leave and find our family at that good pitch the Harper had told of in his skein, by the cloth market. It was customary for the winner to leave in triumph, with Bird Clan va.s.sals playing music all the way to the Sun Carpet, the famous dancing place in the center of the fairgrounds. We did not use this escort, and it was understood that this was out of respect for Jebbal, but we had other reasons as well.

We set out at the third hour after midday, three nonde- script Moruians, two adults and a child, m.u.f.fled in plain gray silken cloaks. We joined the crowds thronging the double bridge, and I felt at last a lifting of my spirits. Home again. Home to the tent after so long, with Mamor, the Harper, Old Gwin, Narneen, and Tomar waiting for us. It was a day when nothing but friendship should prevail. The faces I saw everywhere were smiling; there was no ill-will, no ill-natured jostling. Children ran about among the crowd waving fair favors of colored wool that twirled on a stick. As we pa.s.sed the citadel, Brin checked suddenly, then we walked across the second arch into Otolor.

"Something wrong?" asked Diver.

"I thought we had a follower . . . in twirler's dress."

"Petsalee!" I squeaked. "I saw him, I saw him . . ." It seemed ages ago, before the race was won, before Jebbal died.

We stood in the shadow of a cook-stall awning and looked back for a long time but saw nothing suspicious. Then we threaded our way down a long alley full of cook-stalls, and the scent was so delicious that Diver and Brin took pity on me and we stopped to buy roast wild fowl stuffed with berries. Then, feeling open-handed, we bought a carrying hamper of food to take to the tent and spent so much that the cook-shop owner gave us towels when we washed at the fountain. We wandered on well fed, and then I saw two twirlers, neither of them our watcher, lounging in their( 145 ).

blue rags under the window of a fixed house, a common sleeping house for fair travellers. They stared dully about and accepted offerings but certainly paid us no heed.

I will feed these birds a little grain," said Brin. We followed her and stood to one side as she approached the pair.

"Greetings to the spirit warriors," she said, dropping a credit into their gourd.

"Eenath's blessing!" was the soft response.

I stared at them, feeling the same mixture of fascination and disgust that I had felt for the twirlers in Cullin. They were both still young; their brown bodies were thin and stringy, scarred from head to foot with the marks of the sharp sh.e.l.ls. I have heard townees complain that the twirlers are dirty, but I hardly noticed. I saw their expression, gentle, sad, dazed. Could Eenath bring this fate upon her followers?

"Dear friends," said Brin, "share this food and answer me a question."

"What pleases you, in Eenath's name." A gaunt hand came up for the food, but Brin held it out of reach.

"Where is the twirler Petsalee?"

The twirlers were silent; their faces grew firmer, their expressions almost sly. .

"Petsalee . . ." prompted Brin. The twirler who had reached for the food held up two fingers and whistled softly. Brin reached a second game bird from the basket.

"The spirit warriors dance at the Sun Carpet," said the twirler.

"At what hour?"

"When the spirits call .

"About the fourth hour after the New Year Shout!" put in the second twirler who was very hungry. "The Leader Petsalee will call the dance."

Brin gave them a bird each, and we left them eating.

Diver was curious about Petsalee; how could he be Leader( 146 ).

I.

still and recruit a new band of twirlers? Did this mean we had misjudged the creature-he had not bought a life but only escaped Tiath Gargan's ma.s.sacre?

"Twirlers have their own laws and their own secrets,"

said Brin, "Petsalee must hold great power for them."

We were still pa.s.sing through a part of the fair given over to eafingaaaL at~nVvng% tlienw -, came to -a place tor all Vinas of sports and games. Brushwood fences separated the stone-placers from the teams of skip-rope and the ringers, who twitch down wooden pegs from a high stand with a reed ring attached to a strong thread. A whole pen of ancients were taking part in a knitting contest, with the colored work growing before our eyes until it flowed over their knees, so fast their needles flew. Diver announced that he could knit; he had had it from his mother and all his female ancestors. We laughed in disbelief, until Brin fetched a ball of thread and needles from the knitting marshal and cast on a few st.i.tches, as she used to do for me, when I made my winter stockings. Diver took over pretty unhandily, but he knitted, both first and second st.i.tch; anything requiring more skill or more than two needles he said was beyond him.

"Knitters are born," said Brin. "Dorn here is still battling with his third twist and double plaits. The best knitter I ever saw was Little Griss, the Luck of Tarr's Five, my birth Family. He swore he could knit a tent, given the right thread."

Diver explained, as we walked on into the pottery market, that knitting had been a dying art on his world, but had grown up again in something called the Craft Revival.

So we pa.s.sed on, through the pottery market, the place for music and singing-where we looked for the Harper- and the fortune-tellers' lane, where we kept an eye open for Gordo Beethan. We skirted the edge of the Sun Carpet and took a side trip into the fixed houses of Otolor, beside the old curtain walls of the town, now tumbled down and( 147 ).I.

planted with flowers for a memorial. We came at last to the cloth market, and I was impatient, for the stalls of cloth reminded me of our winnings and the great news we were bearing home. Behind the cloth market is a wide field, especially planted with red-wood trees for the bush weavers to use for the support of their tents. We stood on the edge of this field and stared, and I saw it. Our tent . . . our own good tent, with the three new panels replacing those we had left in the glebe on Hingstull. It stood a long way off on the distant boundary of the field; there were not many people about, and none that we knew; everyone was at the fair. Yet somehow I thought of the Family all sitting in the tent waiting for us. I began to run.

"Hold ... in the winds' name, hold!" I looked back and saw a lithe figure in gray dart out from behind a tree, a stranger, frantically hailing our approach. Then I thought I knew it . . . the Witness who had called Narneen! Before I could think of her partner, I was caught and held in a firm grip.

"Still! Be still for your life, Brinroyan child!" said a strong accented voice. I looked up into the scarred face of the scribe from the Fire-Town. I must have showed fear, for he slackened his grip at once and turned his face away in an odd cringing motion,.as if protecting me from the sight.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am Vel Ragan, ever your friend."

D 'ver and Brin converged on us fiercely, with Diver already fumbling under his cloak.

"Let the child go!" ordered Brin.

"Hold, I pray," gasped the Witness Onnar. "We bring a warning." Vel Ragan released my arm and held out his hands empty in the gesture of peace.

"We have waited for your approach since the rising of Esto," he said. "Pray hear us, for your safety."

"You are Vel Ragan," said Brin, "and this your Wit- ness, Onnar. You come from the Fire-Town, and you( 148 ).

erhisofsleep-spy upon my child Narneen."

"This is true," said the scribe, "but I think Narneen, that excellent Witness, has also told you that we mean friend- ship and we do not lie."

"Trust us both," begged Onnar. She kept looking about anxiously. "Come to this tree," she said, "where we can sit down like a Family at their food."

"What are you afraid of?" asked Diver.

"The creatures of the clan Pentroy," said Vel Ragan. His voice had a rich timbre, almost like Diver's; his gray eyes flashed fire; I could guess what hand had guided the firestone that burned his body.

"Are they safe . . . our Family "Come and sit down."?" I blurted out.We sat down together under the tree, and Vel Ragan looked keenly at Diver. "Let me see your face," he said.

Diver threw back his hood and removed his goggles. Vel Ragan stared and gave a long sighing breath. "It is true then. Strangers have come to Torin from the void."

"One stranger," said Diver, "and no longer so strange thanks to the love and care of Brin's Five. My poor companions still work in the islands. No doubt they think I am dead."

"How many? An army?"

"Three," answered Diver, "a team of scholars."

Vel Ragan drew out from his sleeve a worn sheaf of willow paper: Diver's drawings, copied first at Cullin, then in other parts of Torin.

"Yes," said Brin. "Diver made these drawings and I wrote on them, at Stone Brook. But now, tell us your warning."

"Hear us out," said Onnar, "and do nothing rash." So we heard them out, although the tale they had to tell was a terrible one, outweighing any sorrow or danger we had pa.s.sed through till now.

"We came to the fair after questioning Narneen on the( 149 ).

river," said Vel Ragan. "It was only then we were certain that this child was the one named in the Stone Brook drawings. We believed that your Luck was the one we sought, and we had heard tales of the landing all down the river. We had planned to go to Cullin or even Stone Brook itself, but in fact we landed our glider at Wellin with a damaged runner and took up the search from there twelve days ago. There was plenty to hear. The Strangler had left a trail much wider than Brin's Five. So we came on to the fair and gleaned a few snippets of gossip out of the Bird Clan, and at last the news today of your good fortune. But before that time, about the first hour of Esder shine, or what would be night, Onnar was called by Narneen. The child, as you know, is a powerful Witness, destined for a great career in this strange art if she desires it. Narneen had a dreadful tale to tell. The members of your Five have been surprised, sleeping, by seven armed va.s.sals of Tiath Gargan. The Harper was absent from the tent when this happened, but we could not warn him in time and he was taken when he returned. No-be still and listen! No one has been harmed or even questioned, although Mamor and the Harper are bound and gagged. Narneen lies, feigning sleep; Gwin nurses the baby. The va.s.sals are simply waiting for the return of Garl Brinroyan; they are dis- guised, but make no secret of their allegiance to the Grea Elder. There are four among the seven who say that they have a score to settle ... your Luck has already dealt roughly with them on Hingstull and in Cullin town."

I could not speak after this for the fear and helpless anger that I felt. But Diver had flushed. His blue eyes blazed, and he was as keenly alert as when he was flying the Tomarvan.

"The score will be settled, believe me!" he said. H peered around at the field and the tent far off and the fe pa.s.sers-by.

"Are there any Pentroy va.s.sals keeping watch outside the tent?"( ISO ).

"No," said Vel Ragan, "not that we have seen.""There are only seven," said Brin slowly. "It is a thread I never expected to unravel. These creatures have united in Gulgarvor, a seven-fold cord, a covenant to Derform acertain task.""My capture," said Diver He felt under his cloak andasked Onnar, "How are thev armed?"" hev have knives and the two ho stand at the door ofthe tent have a bludgeon and a limed net."

"Nothing else?""They mean to take you alive," observed Vel Ragan."Diver," I croaked. "Blacklock will help you!""Against his own clan's va.s.sals?" inquired Vel Ragan."That I would like to see.""It is a different branch of Pentroy," said Brin. "Divershall we send for this helD?""We need help, that's certain," said Diver, "and Black- lock would do it ... but time is short. I will not have those creatures in the tent any longer. It is a long way back to theI thought of the fairgrounds e had crossed, two or threeweaver's miles at least; I felt myself running the distance.

"Not so far!" said Brin. She pointed to the southern corner of the tented field, where there stood a wooden tower, decorated with drooping flags. A mirror flashed from its summit and I realized hat it as: the Fourth"The voice wire!" I cried. We all explained at once.

"Thank heaven for fire-metal-maoic!" said Diver. "Will it"Can e use it?" I asked. "We have never seen a voiceVel Ragan laughed. "I have seen too many," he said, "but none so welcome as this one!

We left Onnar watching under the tree and made our5~.( 151 ).

way quickly back through the outskirts of the cloth market and across a patch of nettle bushes to the tower. There was a small tent of Bird Clan blue green at the tower's base and it was sealed with waxed threads bearing a warning mes- sage. Diver snapped this seal impatiently, and we crowded into the empty tent. Ragan stayed back however, peering up at the tower.

"Still firmly in place," he said over our shoulders, "but how are the cups?"

Brin adjusted two window flaps, and we saw it. Two innocent looking clay cups, for all the world like ordinary drinking cups, but covered at the base with a fine mesh of wire and linked by a thick cord to a leather bag on a pole.

"Where is the outlet?" demanded the scribe. He came past us and took up the cups in a familiar way.

"In the pavilion? Well, we'll see what the Bird Clan staff do when it is all over . . ." He pulled on the linking cord and rattled the two cups together so that they made a hollow clopping sound.

"I was wondering how you would do that," murmured Diver.

Vel Ragan went on clopping at intervals, and I found suddenly that I did not believe in the voice wire. It was impossible that what we did here could be sent to the Bird Clan pavilion. Then from one of the cups there came a loud rattle. Vel Ragan immediately pressed the cup over one ear-which I thought was a very brave thing to do-and proceeded to speak resonantly into the other.

"Are you there? Bird Clan pavilion ... answer!" There was a breathing sound, another voice, and he held the cup from his ear. The voice spoke from the cup, magically, and it was a real voice, a voice in accent and tone quite unmistakeable.

"Who calls? What cheeky wretch is bothering us in the course of our duty? Who is that, I'd like to know?"( 152 ).