Джон Вэнс - Scanned by Highroller

Hableyat shook his head. «Not the Prince. He's a queer man, a mixture of bandit, jester and visionary. He seems to regard this new Ballenkarch as an interesting game, a sportive recreation.»

The aib-car landed, a big-bellied transport in need of paint. Two large men in red knee-length breeches, loose blue jackets, black caps, swaggered from the air-car, wearing the placidly arrogant expressions of a military elite.

«Lord Prince sends his greetings,» said the first to the Beland officer. «He understands that there are foreign agents among the passengers, so he will have all who land conveyed before him at once.»

There was no further conversation. Into the car trooped Elfane and Hableyat, the two Druids clutching their portable altar, the Mangs, glaring yellow-eyed at Hableyat, and Joe. These were all for Ballenkarch–the Cils and the aged woman in the black gown would continue their journey to Castlegran, Cil or Beland and none were discharged from the hold.

Joe crossed the fuselage, dropped into a seat beside Elfane. She turned her head, showed him a face which seemed drained of its youth. «What do you want with me?»

«Nothing. Are you angry with me?»

«You're a Mang spy.»

Joe laughed uneasily. «Oh–because I'm thick with Hableyat?» «What did he send you to tell me now?»

The question took Joe aback. It opened up a vista for speculation. Could it be possible that Hableyat was using him as a means to convey ideas of Hableyat's choosing to the Druids through Elfane?

He said, «I don't know whether or not he wanted this to reach you. But he explained to me why he's been helping you bring your Tree here and it sounds convincing to me.»

«In the first place,» said Elfane scathingly. «We have no more Tree. It was stolen from us at Junction.» Her eyes widened and she looked at him with a sudden suspicion. «Was that your doing too? Is it possible that.»

Joe sighed. «You're determined to think the worst of me. Very well. If you weren't so damned beautiful and appealing I would think twice about you. But you're planning to bust in on the Prince with your two milk-faced Druids and you think you can wind him around your finger. Maybe you can. I know very well you'd stop at nothing. And now I'll get off my chest what Hableyat said and you can do what you like with the information.»

He glared at her, challenging her to speak, but she tossed her head and stared hard out the window.

«He believes that if you succeed in this mission, then you and your Druids will wind up playing second fiddle to these tough Ballenkarts. If you don't succeed –well, the Mangs will probably figure out something unpleasant for you personally but the Druids–according to Hableyat–eventually will come out ahead.»

«Go away,» she said in a choked voice. «All you do is scare me. Go away.»

«Elfane–forget all this Druid-Mang-Tree-of-Life stuff and I'll take you back to Earth. That is if I get off the planet alive.»

She showed him the back of her head. The car buzzed, vibrated, rose into the air. The landscape dished out below them. Massive mountains shot and marbled with snow and ice, luxuriant meadowland with grass glowing the sharp bright color of prismatic green, spread below. They crossed the range. The car jerked, jolted in bumpy air, slanted down toward an inland sea.

A settlement, obviously raw and new, had grown up on the shore of this sea. Three heavy docks, a dozen large rectangular buildings–glass-sided, roofed with bright metal–formed the heart of the town. A mile beyond a promontory covered with trees overlooked the sea and in the shadow of this promontory the car grounded.

The door opened. One of the Ballenkarts motioned brusquely. «This way.»

Joe followed Elfane to the ground and saw ahead a long low building with a glass front looking across the vista of sea and plain. The Ballenkart corporal made another peremptory motion. «To the Residence,» he said curtly.

Resentfully Joe started for the building, thinking that these soldiers made poor emissaries of good will. His nerves tautened as he walked. The atmosphere was hardly one of welcome. The tension, he noticed, gripped everyone. Elfane moved as if her legs were rigid. Erru Kametin's jaw shone bright yellow along the bone line.

At the rear Joe noticed Hableyat speaking urgently with the two Druid missionaries. They seemed reluctant. Hableyat raised his voice. Joe heard him say, «What's the difference? This way you at least have a chance, whether you distrust my motives or not.» The Druids at last appeared to acquiesce. Hableyat marched briskly ahead and said in a loud voice, «Halt! This impudence must not go on!»

The two Ballenkarts swung around in amazement. With a stern face Hableyat said, «Go, get your master. We will suffer this indignity no longer.»

The Ballenkarts blinked, slightly crestfallen to find their authority questioned. Erru Kametin, eyes snapping, said, «What are you saying, Hableyat? Are you trying to compromise us in the eyes of the Prince?»

Hableyat said, «He must learn that we Mangs prize our dignities. We will not stir from this ground until he advances to greet us in the manner of a courteous host.»

Erru Kametin laughed scornfully. «Stay then.» He flung his scarlet cloak about him, turned, proceeded toward the Residence. The Ballenkarts conferred and one accompanied the Mangs. The other eyed Hableyat with truculent eyes. «Wait until the Prince hears of this!»

The rest had rounded a corner. Hableyat leisurely drew his hand from his cloak, discharged a tube at the guard. The guard's eyes became milky, he tumbled to the ground.

«He's merely stunned,» said Hableyat to Joe, who had turned protestingly. To the Druids, «Hurry.»

Lifting their robes they ran to a nearby bank of soft dirt. One dug a hole with a stick, the other opened the altar, tenderly lifted out the miniature Tree. A small pot surrounded its roots.

Joe heard Elfane gasp. «You two–»

«Silence,» rapped Hableyat. «Attend your own concerns if you are wise. These are Arch-Thearchs, both of them.»

«Manaolo–a dupe!»

Into the hole went the roots. Soil was patted firm. The Druids closed the altar, dusted off their hands, and once more became empty-faced monks. And the Son of the Tree stood firm in the ground of Ballenkarch, bathing in the hot yellow light. Unless one looked closely, it was merely another young shrub.

«Now,» said Hableyat placidly, «we continue to the Residence.»

Elfane glared at Hableyat and the Druids, her eyes flaming with rage and humiliation. «All this time you've been laughing at me!»

«No, no, Priestess,» said Hableyat. «Calmness, I implore you. You'll need all your wits when you face the Prince. Believe me, you served a very useful function.»

Elfane turned blindly as if to run off toward the sea but Joe caught hold of her. For a moment she stared into his eyes, her muscles like wire. Then she relaxed, grew limp. «Very well, I'll go in.»

They continued, meeting halfway a squad of six soldiers evidently sent out to escort them in. No one heeded the numb form of the guard.

At the portal they were subjected to a search, quick but so detailed and thorough as to evoke angry protests from the Druids and an outraged yelp from Elfane. The arsenal so discovered was surprising–hand-conics from each of the Druids, Hableyat's stun-tube and a collapsible dagger, Joe's gun, a little polished tube Elfane carried in her sleeve.

The corporal stood back, gestured. «You are permitted to enter the Residence. See that you observe the accepted forms of respect.»

Passing through an antechamber painted with grotesque half-demoniac animals they entered a large hall.

The ceiling beams were great timbers, hand-hewn and notched into a formalized pattern, the walls were surfaced with woven rattan. At either side banks of green and red plants lined the wall and the floor was covered by a soft rug of fiber woven and dyed in a striking pattern of scarlet, black and green.