<h2><SPAN name="VII" id="VII"></SPAN>7</h2>
<h3>Witches' Meat</h3>
<p>He might be recklessly endangering all of them, Ross knew. But if Ashe
was immured somewhere in that rock pile over their heads, then the risk
of trusting Loketh would be worth it. However, because Ross was chancing
his own neck did not mean that Karara need be drawn into immediate peril
too. With the dolphins at her command and the supplies, scanty as those
were, she would have a good chance to hide here safely.</p>
<p>"Holding out for what?" she asked quietly after Ross elaborated on this
subject, thus bringing him to silence.</p>
<p>Because her question was just. With the gate gone the Terrans were
committed to this time, just as they had earlier been committed to
Hawaika when on their home world they had entered the spaceship for the
take-off. There was no escape from the past, which had become their
present.</p>
<p>"The Foanna," she continued, "these Wreckers, the sea people—all at
odds with one another. Do we join any, then their quarrels must also
become ours."</p>
<p>Taua nosed the ledge behind the girl, squeaked a demand for attention.
Karara looked around at Loketh; her look was as searching as the one the
native had earlier turned on her and Ross.</p>
<p>"He"—the girl nodded at the Hawaikan—"wishes to know if you trust him.
And he says to tell you this: Because the Shades chose to inflict upon
him a twisted leg he is not one with those of the castle, but to them a
broken, useless thing. Ross, I gather he thinks we have powers like the
Foanna, and that we may be supernatural. But because we did not kill him
out of hand and have fed him, he considers himself bound to us."</p>
<p>"Ritual of bread and salt ... could be." Though it might be folly to
match alien customs to Terran, Ross thought of that very ancient pact on
his own world. Eat a man's food, become his friend, or at least declare
a truce between you. Stiff taboos and codes of behavior marked nations
on Terra, especially warrior societies, and the same might be true here.</p>
<p>"Ask him," Ross told Karara, "what is the rule for food and drink
between friends or enemies!" The more he could learn of such customs the
better protection he might be able to weave for them.</p>
<p>Long moments for the relay of that message, and then Loketh spoke into
the micro-disk of the analyzer, slowly, with pauses, as if trying to
make sure Ross understood every word.</p>
<p>"To give bread into the hands of one you have taken in battle, makes him
your man—not as a slave to labor, but as one who draws sword at your
bidding. When I took your bread I accepted you as cup-lord. Between such
there is no betrayal, for how may a man betray his lord? I, Loketh, am
now a sword in your hands, a man in your service. And to me this is
doubly good, for as a useless one I have never had a lord, nor one to
swear to. Also, with this Sea Maid and her followers to listen to
thoughts, how could any man speak with a double tongue were he one who
consorted with the Shadow and wore the Cloak of Evil?"</p>
<p>"He's right," Karara added. "His mind is open; he couldn't hide his
thoughts from Taua and Tino-rau even if he wished."</p>
<p>"All right, I'll accept that." Ross glanced about the ledge. They had
piled the containers at the far end. For Karara to move might be safe.
He said so.</p>
<p>"Move where?" she asked flatly. "Those men from the castle are still
hunting drift out there. I don't think anyone knows of this cave."</p>
<p>Ross nodded to Loketh. "He did, didn't he? I wouldn't want you trapped
here. And I don't want to lose those supplies. What is in those
containers may be what saves us all."</p>
<p>"We can sink those over by the wall, weight them down in a net. Then, if
we have to move, they will be ready. Do not worry—that is my
department." She smiled at him with a slightly mocking lift of lips.</p>
<p>Ross subsided, though he was irritated because she was right. The
management of the dolphin team and sea matters were her department. And
while he resented her reminder of that point he could not deny the
justice of her retort.</p>
<p>In spite of his crippled leg, Loketh displayed an agility which
surprised Ross. Freed from his ankle bonds, he beckoned the Terran back
to the very niche where he had hidden to watch Karara. Up he swung into
that and in a second had vanished from sight.</p>
<p>Ross followed, to discover it was not a niche after all but the opening
of a crevice, leading upward as a vent. And it had been used before as a
passage. There was no light, but the native guided Ross's hands to the
hollow climbing holds cut into the stone. Then Loketh pushed past and
went up the crude ladder into the dark.</p>
<p>It was difficult to judge either time or distance in this black tube.
Ross counted the holds for some check. His agent training made one part
of his mind sharply aware of such things; the need for memorizing a
passage which led into the enemy's territory was apparent. What the
purpose of this slit had originally been he did not know, but
strongholds on Terra had had their hidden ways in and out for use in
times of siege, and he was beginning to believe that these aliens had
much in common with his own kind.</p>
<p>He had reached twenty in his counting and his senses, alerted by
training and instinct, told him there was an opening not too far above.
But the darkness remained so thick it fell in tangible folds about his
sweating body. Ross almost cried out as fingers clamped about his wrist
when he reached for a new hold. Then urged by that grasp, he was up and
out, sprawling into a vertical passage. Far ahead was a gray of faint
light.</p>
<p>Ross choked and then sneezed as dust puffed up from between his
scrabbling hands. The hold which had been on his wrist shifted to his
shoulder, and with a surprising strength Loketh hauled the Terran to his
feet.</p>
<p>The passage in which they stood was a slit extending in height well
above their heads, but narrow, not much wider than Ross's shoulders.
Whether it was a natural fault or had been cut he could not tell.</p>
<p>Loketh was ahead again, his rocking limp making the outline of his body
a jerky up-and-down shadow. Again his speed and agility amazed the
Terran. Loketh might be lame, but he had learned to adapt to his
handicap very well.</p>
<p>The light increased and Ross marked slits in the walls to his right, no
wider than the breadth of his two fingers. He peered out of one and was
looking into empty air while below he heard the murmur of the sea. This
way must run in the cliff face above the beach.</p>
<p>A click of impatient whisper drew him on to join Loketh. Here was a
flight of stairs, narrow of tread and very steep. Loketh turned back and
side against these to climb, his outspread hand flattened on the stone
as if it possessed adhesive qualities to steady him. For the first time
his twisted leg was a disadvantage.</p>
<p>Ross counted again—ten, fifteen of those steps, bringing them once more
into darkness. Then they emerged from a well-like opening into a
circular room. A sudden and dazzling flare of light made the Terran
shade his eyes. Loketh set a pallid but glowing cone on a wall shelf,
and the Terran discovered that the burst of light was only relative to
the dark of the passage; indeed it was very weak illumination.</p>
<p>The Hawaikan braced his body against the far wall. The strain of his
effort, whatever its purpose, was easy to read in the contorted line of
his shoulders. Then the wall slid under Loketh's urging, a slow move as
if the weight of the slab he strove to handle was almost too great for
his slender arms, or else the need for caution was intensified here.</p>
<p>They now fronted a narrow opening, and the light of the cone shone only
a few feet into the space. Loketh beckoned to Ross and they went on.
Here the left wall was cut in many places emitting patches of light in a
way which bore no resemblance to conventional windows. It was like
walking behind a pierced screen which followed no logical pattern in the
cutaway portions. Ross gazed out and gasped.</p>
<p>He was standing above the center core of the castle, and the life below
and beyond drew his attention. He had seen drawings reproducing the life
of a feudal castle. This resembled them and yet, as Ross studied the
scene closer, the differences between the Terran past and this became
more distinct.</p>
<p>In the first place there were those animals—or were they
animals?—being hooked up to a cart. They had six limbs, walking on
four, holding the remaining two folded under their necks. Their harness
consisted of a network fitted over their shoulders, anchored to the
folded limbs. Their grotesque heads, bobbing and weaving on lengthy
necks, their bodies, were sleekly scaled. Ross was startled by a
resemblance he traced to the sea dragon he had met in the future of this
world.</p>
<p>But the creatures were subject to the men harnessing them. And the
activity in other respects ... Ross had to fight a wayward and
fascinated interest in all he could see, force himself to concentrate on
learning what might be pertinent to his own mission. But Loketh did not
allow him to watch for long. Instead, his hand on the Terran's arm urged
the other down the gallery behind the screen and once more into the bulk
of the fortress.</p>
<p>Another narrow way ran through the thickness of the walls. Then a patch
of light, not that of outer day, but a reddish gleam from an opening
waist high. There Loketh went awkwardly to his good knee, motioning Ross
to follow his example.</p>
<p>What lay below was a hall furnished with a barbaric rawness of color and
glitter. There were long strips of brightly hued woven stuff on the
walls, touched here and there with sparkling glints which were
jewel-like. And set at intervals among the hangings were oval objects
perhaps Ross's height on which were designs and patterns picked out in
paint and metal. Maybe the stylized representation of native plants and
animals.</p>
<p>The whole gave an impression of clashing color, just as the garments of
those gathered there were garish in turn.</p>
<p>There were three Hawaikans on the two-step dais. All wore robes fitting
tightly to the upper portion of their bodies, girded to their waists
with elaborate belts, then falling in long points to floor level, the
points being finished off with tassels. Their heads were covered with
tight caps which were a latticework of decorated strips, glittering as
they moved. And the mixture of colors in their apparel was such as to
offend Terran eyes with their harsh clash of shade against shade.</p>
<p>Drawn up below the dais were two rows of guards. But the reason for the
assembly baffled Ross, since he could not understand the clicking
speech.</p>
<p>There came a hollow echoing sound as from a gong. The three on the dais
straightened, turned their attention to the other end of the hall. Ross
did not need Loketh's gesture to know that something of importance was
about to begin.</p>
<p>Down the hall was a somber note in the splash of clashing color. The
Terran recognized the gray-blue robe of the Foanna. There were three of
the robed ones this time, one slightly in advance of the other two. They
came at a gliding pace as if they swept along above that paved flooring,
not by planting feet upon it. As they halted below the dais the men
there rose.</p>
<p>Ross could read their reluctance to make that concession in the slowness
of their movements. They were plainly being compelled to render
deference when they longed to refuse it. Then the middle one of the
castle lords spoke first.</p>
<p>"Zahur—" Loketh breathed in Ross's ear, his pointed finger indicating
the speaker.</p>
<p>Ross longed vainly for the ability to ask questions, a chance to know
what was in progress. That the meeting of the two Hawaikan factions was
important he did not doubt.</p>
<p>There was an interval of silence after the castle lord finished
speaking. To the Terran this spun on and on and he sensed the mounting
tension. This must be a showdown, perhaps even a declaration of open
hostilities between Wreckers and the older race. Or perhaps the pause
was a subtle weapon of the Foanna, used to throw a less-sophisticated
enemy off balance, as a judo fighter might use an opponent's attack as
part of his own defense.</p>
<p>When the Foanna did make answer it came in the singsong of chanted
words. Ross felt Loketh shiver, felt the crawl of chill along his own
spine. The words—if those were words and not just sounds intended to
play upon the mind and emotions of a listener—cut into one. Ross wanted
to close his ears, thrust his fingers into them to drown out that sound,
yet he did not have the power to raise his hands.</p>
<p>It seemed to him that the men on the dais were swaying now as if the
chant were a rope leashed about them, pulling them back and forth. There
was a clatter; one of the guards had fallen to the floor and lay there,
rolling, his hands to his head.</p>
<p>A shout from the dais. The chanting reached a note so high that Ross
felt the torment in his ears. Below, the lines of guards had broken. A
party of them were heading for the end of the hall, making a wide detour
around the Foanna. Loketh gave a small choked cry; his fingers tightened
on Ross's forearm with painful intensity as he whispered.</p>
<p>What was about to happen meant something important. To Loketh or to him?
Ashe! Was this concerned with Ashe? Ross crowded against the opening,
tried to see the direction in which the guards had disappeared.</p>
<p>The wait made him doubly impatient. One of the men on the dais had
dropped on the bench there, his head forward on his hands, his shoulders
quivering. But the one Loketh had identified as Zahur still fronted the
Foanna spokesman, and Ross gave tribute to the strength of will which
kept him there.</p>
<p>They were returning, the guards, and herded between their lines three
men. Two were Hawaikans, their bare dark bodies easily identifiable. But
the third—Ashe! Ross almost shouted his name aloud.</p>
<p>The Terran stumbled along and there was a bandage above his knee. He had
been stripped to his swimming trunks, all his equipment taken from him.
There was a dark bruise on his left temple, the angry weal of a lash
mark on neck and shoulder.</p>
<p>Ross's hands clenched. Never in his life had he so desperately wanted a
weapon as he did at that moment. To spray the company below with a
machine gun would have given him great satisfaction. But he had nothing
but the knife in his belt and he was as cut off from Ashe as if they
were in separate cells of some prison.</p>
<p>The caution which had been one of his inborn gifts and which had been
fostered by his training, clamped down on his first wild desire for
action. There was not the slightest chance of his doing Ashe any good at
the present. But he had this much—he knew that Gordon was alive and
that he was in the aliens' hands. Faced by those facts Ross could plan
his own moves.</p>
<p>The Foanna chant began again, and the three prisoners moved; the two
Hawaikans turned, set themselves on either side of Ashe, and gave him
support. Their actions had a mechanical quality as if they were directed
by a will beyond their own. Ashe gazed about him at the Wreckers and the
robed figures. His awareness of them both suggested to Ross that if the
natives had come under the control of the Foanna, the Terran resisted
their influence. But Ashe did not try to escape the assistance of his
two fellow prisoners, and he limped with their aid back down the hall,
following the Foanna.</p>
<p>Ross deduced that the captives had been transferred from the lord of the
castle to the Foanna. Which meant Ashe was on his way to another
destination. The Terran was on his feet and headed back, intent on
returning to the sea cave and starting out after Ashe as soon as he
could.</p>
<p>"You have found Gordon!" Karara read his news from his face.</p>
<p>"The Wreckers had him prisoner. Now they've turned him over to the
Foanna—"</p>
<p>"What will <i>they</i> do with him?" the girl demanded of Loketh.</p>
<p>His answer came roundabout as usual as the native squatted by the
analyzer and clicked his answer into it.</p>
<p>"They have claimed the wreck survivors for tribute. Your companion will
be witches' meat."</p>
<p>"Witches' meat?" repeated Ross, uncomprehending.</p>
<p>Then Karara drew a gagged breath which was a gasp of horror.</p>
<p>"Sacrifice! Ross, he must mean they are going to use Gordon for a
sacrifice."</p>
<p>Ross stiffened and then whirled to catch Loketh by the shoulders. The
inability to question the native directly was an added disaster now.</p>
<p>"Where are they taking him? Where?" He began that fiercely, and then
forced control on himself.</p>
<p>Karara's eyes were half closed, her head back; she was manifestly aiming
that inquiry at the dolphins, to be translated to Loketh.</p>
<p>Symbols burned on the analyzer screen.</p>
<p>"The Foanna have their own fortress. It can be entered best by sea.
There is a boat ... I can show you, for it is my own secret."</p>
<p>"Tell him—yes, as soon as we can!" Ross broke out. The old feeling that
time was all-important worried at him. Witches' meat ... witches' meat
... the words were sharp as a lash.</p>
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