<p>It was hard climbing now, on
rock, and there were places
where we had to scrabble for
handholds, and flatten ourselves
out against an almost sheer wall.
The keen wind rose as we climbed
higher, whining through the
thick forest, soughing in the
rocky outcrops, and biting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_115" id="Page_115"></SPAN></span>
through our soaked clothing with
icy teeth. Kendricks was having
hard going now, and I helped
him as much as I could, but I
was aching with cold. We gained
the clearing, a small bare spot
on a lesser peak, and I directed
the two Darkovan brothers who
were the driest to gather dry
brushwood and get a fire going.
It was hardly near enough sunset
to camp; but by the time we
were dry enough to go on safely,
it would be, so I gave orders to
get the tent up, then rounded
angrily on Kyla.</p>
<p>"See here, another time don't
try any dangerous tricks unless
you're ordered to!"</p>
<p>"Go easy on her," Regis Hastur
interceded, "we'd never have
crossed without the fixed rope.
Good work, girl."</p>
<p>"You keep out of this!" I snapped.
It was true, yet resentment
boiled in me as Kyla's plain sullen
face glowed under the praise
from the Hastur.</p>
<p>The fact was—I admitted it
grudgingly—a lightweight like
Kyla ran less risk on an acrobat's
bridge than in that kind
of roaring current. That did not
lessen my annoyance; and Regis
Hastur's interference, and the
foolish grin on the girl's face,
made me boil over.</p>
<p>I wanted to question her further
about the sight of trailmen
on the bridge, but decided
against it. We had been spared
attack on the rapids, so it wasn't
impossible that a group, not
hostile, was simply watching our
progress—maybe even aware
that we were on a peaceful mission.</p>
<p>But I didn't believe it for a
minute. If I knew anything
about the trailmen, it was this—one
could not judge them by
human standards at all. I tried
to decide what I would have
done, as a trailman, but my
brain wouldn't run that way at
the moment.</p>
<p>The Darkovan brothers had
built up the fire with a thoroughly
reckless disregard of watching
eyes. It seemed to me that
the morale and fitness of the
shivering crew was of more
value at the moment than caution;
and around the roaring
fire, feeling my soaked clothes
warming to the blaze and drinking
boiling hot tea from a mug,
it seemed that we were right.
Optimism reappeared; Kyla, letting
Hjalmar dress her hands
which had been rubbed raw by
the slipping lianas, made jokes
with the men about her feat of
acrobatics.</p>
<p>We had made camp on the
summit of an outlying arm of
the main ridge of the Hellers,
and the whole massive range lay
before our eyes, turned to a million
colors in the declining sun.
Green and turquoise and rose,
the mountains were even more
beautiful than I remembered.
The shoulder of the high slope
we had just climbed had obscured
the real mountain massif
from our sight, and I saw Kendricks'
eyes widen as he realized
that this high summit we had
just mastered was only the first<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_116" id="Page_116"></SPAN></span>
step of the task which lay before
us. The real ridge rose ahead,
thickly forested on the lower
slopes, then strewn with rock
and granite like the landscape of
an airless, deserted moon. And
above the rock, there were
straight walls capped with blinding
snow and ice. Down one peak
a glacier flowed, a waterfall, a
cascade shockingly arrested in
motion. I murmured the trailman's
name for the mountain,
aloud, and translated it for the
others:</p>
<p>"The Wall Around the
World."</p>
<p>"Good name for it," Lerrys
murmured, coming with his mug
in his hand to look at the mountain.
"Jason, the big peak there
has never been climbed, has it?"</p>
<p>"I can't remember." My teeth
were chattering and I went back
toward the fire. Regis surveyed
the distant glacier and murmured,
"It doesn't look too bad.
There could be a route along that
western <i>ar�te</i>—Hjalmar, weren't
you with the expedition that
climbed and mapped High Kimbi?"</p>
<p>The giant nodded, rather
proudly. "We got within a hundred
feet of the top, then a snowstorm
came up and we had to
turn back. Some day we'll tackle
the Wall Around the World—it's
been tried, but no one ever climbed
the peak."</p>
<p>"No one ever will," Lerrys
stated positively, "There's two
hundred feet of sheer rock cliff,
Prince Regis, you'd need wings
to get up. And there's the avalanche
ledge they call Hell's
Alley—"</p>
<p>Kendricks broke in irritably,
"I don't care whether it's ever
been climbed or ever will be
climbed, we're not going to climb
it now!" He stared at me and
added, "I hope!"</p>
<p>"We're not." I was glad of the
interruption. If the youngsters
and amateurs wanted to amuse
themselves plotting hypothetical
attacks on unclimbable sierras,
that was all very well, but it
was, if nothing worse, a great
waste of time. I showed Kendricks
a notch in the ridge, thousands
of feet lower than the
peaks, and well-sheltered from
the icefalls on either side.</p>
<p>"That's Dammerung; we're
going through there. We won't
be on the mountain at all, and
it's less than 22,000 feet high in
the pass—although there are
some bad ledges and washes.
We'll keep clear of the main
tree-roads if we can, and all the
mapped trailmen's villages, but
we may run into wandering
bands—" abruptly I made my
decision and gestured them
around me.</p>
<p>"From this point," I broke the
news, "we're liable to be attacked.
Kyla, tell them what you
saw."</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>She put down her mug. Her
face was serious again, as she
related what she had seen on the
bridge. "We're on a peaceful mission,
but they don't know that
yet. The thing to remember is
that they do not wish to kill,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_117" id="Page_117"></SPAN></span>
only to wound and rob. If we
show fight—" she displayed a
short ugly knife, which she tucked
matter-of-factly into her
shirt-front, "they will run away
again."</p>
<p>Lerrys loosened a narrow dagger
which until this moment I
had thought purely ornamental.
He said, "Mind if I say something
more, Jason? I remember
from the 'Narr campaign—the
trailmen fight at close quarters,
and by human standards they
fight dirty." He looked around
fiercely, his unshaven face glinting
as he grinned. "One more
thing. I like elbow room. Do we
have to stay roped together when
we start out again?"</p>
<p>I thought it over. His enthusiasm
for a fight made me feel
both annoyed and curiously delighted.
"I won't make anyone
stay roped who thinks he'd be
safer without it," I said, "we'll
decide that when the time comes,
anyway. But personally—the
trailmen are used to running
along narrow ledges, and we're
not. Their first tactic would
probably be to push us off, one
by one. If we're roped, we can
fend them off better." I dismissed
the subject, adding, "Just
now, the important thing is to
dry out."</p>
<p>Kendricks remained at my
side after the others had gathered
around the fire, looking into
the thick forest which sloped up
to our campsite. He said, "This
place looks as if it had been used
for a camp before. Aren't we
just as vulnerable to attack here
as we would be anywhere else?"</p>
<p>He had hit on the one thing I
hadn't wanted to talk about. This
clearing was altogether too convenient.
I only said, "At least
there aren't so many ledges to
push us off."</p>
<p>Kendricks muttered, "You've
got the only blaster!"</p>
<p>"I left it at Carthon," I said
truthfully. Then I laid down the
law:</p>
<p>"Listen, Buck. If we kill a
single trailman, except in hand-to-hand
fight in self-defense, we
might as well pack up and go
home. We're on a peaceful mission,
and we're begging a favor.
Even if we're attacked—we kill
only as a last resort, and in
hand-to-hand combat!"</p>
<p>"Damned primitive frontier
planet—"</p>
<p>"Would you rather die of the
trailmen's disease?"</p>
<p>He said savagely, "We're apt
to catch it anyway—here. You're
immune, you don't care, you're
safe! The rest of us are on a
suicide mission—and damn it,
when I die I want to take a few
of those monkeys with me!"</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>I bent my head, bit my lip and
said nothing. Buck couldn't be
blamed for the way he felt. After
a moment I pointed to the
notch in the ridge again. "It's
not so far. Once we get through
Dammerung, it's easy going into
the trailmen's city. Beyond
there, it's all civilized."</p>
<p>"Maybe <i>you</i> call it civilization,"
Kendricks said, and
turned away.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_118" id="Page_118"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Come on, let's finish drying
our feet."</p>
<p>And at that moment they hit
us.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>Kendricks' yell was the only
warning I had before I was
fighting away something scrabbling
up my back. I whirled and
ripped the creature away, and
saw dimly that the clearing was
filled to the rim with an explosion
of furry white bodies. I
cupped my hands and yelled, in
the only trailman dialect I knew,
"Hold off! We come in peace!"</p>
<p>One of them yelled something
unintelligible and plunged at me—another
tribe! I saw a white-furred,
chinless face, contorted
in rage, a small ugly knife—a
female! I ripped out my own
knife, fending away a savage
slash. Something tore white-hot
across the knuckles of my hand;
the fingers went limp and my
knife fell, and the trailman woman
snatched it up and made off
with her prize, swinging lithely
upward into the treetops.</p>
<p>I searched quickly, gripped
with my good hand at the bleeding
knuckles, and found Regis
Hastur struggling at the edge
of a ledge with a pair of the
creatures. The crazy thought ran
through my mind that if they
killed him all Darkover would
rise and exterminate the trailmen
and it would all be my fault.
Then Regis tore one hand free,
and made a curious motion with
his fingers.</p>
<p>It looked like an immense
green spark a foot long, or like
a fireball. It exploded in one
creature's white face and she
gave a wild howl of terror and
anguish, scrabbled blindly at her
eyes, and with a despairing
shriek, ran for the shelter of the
trees. The pack of trailmen gave
a long formless wail, and then
they were gathering, flying, retreating
into the shadows. Rafe
yelled something obscene and
then a bolt of bluish flame lanced
toward the retreating pack. One
of the humanoids fell without a
cry, pitching senseless over the
ledge.</p>
<p>I ran toward Rafe, struggling
with him for the shocker he had
drawn from its hiding-place inside
his shirt. "You blind
damned fool!" I cursed him,
"you may have ruined everything—"</p>
<p>"They'd have killed him without
it," he retorted wrathfully.
He had evidently failed to see
how efficiently Regis defended
himself. Rafe motioned toward
the fleeing pack and sneered,
"Why don't you go with your
friends?"</p>
<p>With a grip I thought I had
forgotten, I got my hand around
Rafe's knuckles and squeezed.
His hand went limp and I
snatched the shocker and pitched
it over the ledge.</p>
<p>"One word and I'll pitch you
after it," I warned. "Who's
hurt?"</p>
<p>Garin was blinking senselessly,
half-dazed by a blow; Regis'
forehead had been gashed and
dripped blood, and Hjalmar's
thigh sliced in a clean cut. My<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_119" id="Page_119"></SPAN></span>
own knuckles were laid bare and
the hand was getting numb. It
was a little while before anybody
noticed Kyla, crouched over
speechless with pain. She reeled
and turned deathly white when
we touched her; we stretched
her out where she was, and got
her shirt off, and Kendricks
crowded up beside us to examine
the wound.</p>
<p>"A clean cut," he said, but I
didn't hear. Something had
turned over inside me, like a
hand stirring up my brain,
and....</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>Jay Allison looked around with
a gasp of sudden vertigo. He
was not in Forth's office, but
standing precariously near the
edge of a cliff. He shut his eyes
briefly, wondering if he were
having one of his worst nightmares,
and opened them on a
familiar face.</p>
<p>Buck Kendricks was bone-white,
his mouth widening as he
said hoarsely, "Jay! Doctor Allison—for
God's sake—"</p>
<p>A doctor's training creates reactions
that are almost reflexes;
Jay Allison recovered some degree
of sanity as he became
aware that someone was stretched
out in front of him, half-naked,
and bleeding profusely.
He motioned away the crowding
strangers and said in his bad
Darkovan, "Let her alone, this
is my work." He didn't know
enough words to curse them
away, so he switched to Terran,
speaking to Kendricks:</p>
<p>"Buck, get these people away,
give the patient some air.
Where's my surgical case?" He
bent and probed briefly, realizing
only now that the injured
was a woman, and young.</p>
<p>The wound was only a superficial
laceration; whatever sharp
instrument had inflicted it, had
turned on the costal bone without
penetrating lung tissue. It
could have been sutured, but
Kendricks handed him only a
badly-filled first-aid kit; so Dr.
Allison covered it tightly with
a plastic clip-shield which would
seal it from further bleeding,
and let it alone. By the time he
had finished, the strange girl had
begun to stir. She said haltingly,
"Jason—?"</p>
<p>"Dr. Allison," he corrected
tersely, surprised in a minor
way—the major surprise had
blurred lesser ones—that she
knew his name. Kendricks spoke
swiftly to the girl, in one of the
Darkovan languages Jay didn't
understand, and then drew Jay
aside, out of earshot. He said
in a shaken voice, "Jay, I didn't
know—I wouldn't have believed—you're
<i>Doctor Allison</i>? Good
Lord—Jason!"</p>
<p>And then he moved fast.
"What's the matter? Oh, hell,
Jay, don't faint on me!"</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>Jay was aware that he didn't
come out of it too bravely, but
anyone who blamed him (he
thought resentfully) should try
it on for size; going to sleep in
a comfortably closed-in office and
waking up on a cliff at the outer
edges of nowhere. His hand<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_120" id="Page_120"></SPAN></span>
hurt; he saw that it was bleeding
and flexed it experimentally,
trying to determine that no
tendons had been injured. He
rapped, "How did this happen?"</p>
<p>"Sir, keep your voice down—or
speak Darkovan!"</p>
<p>Jay blinked again. Kendricks
was still the only familiar thing
in a strangely vertiginous universe.
The Spaceforce man said
huskily. "Before heaven, Jay, I
hadn't any idea—and I've known
you how long? Eight, nine
years?"</p>
<p>Jay said, "That idiot Forth!"
and swore, the colorless profanity
of an indoor man.</p>
<p>Somebody shouted, "Jason!"
in an imperative voice, and Kendricks
said shakily, "Jay, if they
see you—you literally are not
the same man!"</p>
<p>"Obviously not." Jay looked at
the tent, one pole still unpitched.
"Anyone in there?"</p>
<p>"Not yet." Kendricks almost
shoved him inside. "I'll tell them—I'll
tell them something." He
took a radiant from his pocket,
set it down and stared at Allison
in the flickering light, and
said something profane. "You'll—you'll
be all right here?"</p>
<p>Jay nodded. It was all he
could manage. He was keeping a
tight hold on his nerve; if it
went, he'd start to rave like a
madman. A little time passed,
there were strange noises outside,
and then there was a polite
cough and a man walked into the
tent.</p>
<p>He was obviously a Darkovan
aristocrat and looked vaguely
familiar, though Jay had no
conscious memory of seeing him
before. Tall and slender, he possessed
that perfect and exquisite
masculine beauty sometimes
seen among Darkovans, and he
spoke to Jay familiarly but with
surprising courtesy:</p>
<p>"I have told them you are not
to be disturbed for a moment,
that your hand is worse than we
believed. A surgeon's hands are
delicate things, Doctor Allison,
and I hope that yours are not
badly injured. Will you let me
look?"</p>
<p>Jay Allison drew back his
hand automatically, then, conscious
of the churlishness of the
gesture, let the stranger take it
in his and look at the fingers.
The man said, "It does not seem
serious. I was sure it was something
more than that." He raised
grave eyes. "You don't even remember
my name, do you, Dr.
Allison?"</p>
<p>"You know who I am?"</p>
<p>"Dr. Forth didn't tell me. But
we Hasturs are partly telepathic,
Jason—forgive me—Doctor Allison.
I have known from the first
that you were possessed by a god
or daemon."</p>
<p>"Superstitious rubbish," Jay
snapped. "Typical of a Darkovan!"</p>
<p>"It is a convenient manner of
speaking, no more," said the
young Hastur, overlooking the
rudeness. "I suppose I could
learn your terminology, if I considered
it worth the effort. I
have had psi training, and I can
tell the difference when half of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121"></SPAN></span>
a man's soul has driven out the
other half. Perhaps I can restore
you to yourself—"</p>
<p>"If you think I'd have some
Darkovan freak meddling with
my mind—" Jay began hotly,
then stopped. Under Regis' grave
eyes, he felt a surge of unfamiliar
humility. This crew of men
needed their leader, and obviously
he, Jay Allison, wasn't the
leader they needed. He covered
his eyes with one hand.</p>
<p>Regis bent and put a hand on
his shoulder, compassionately,
but Jay twitched it off, and his
voice, when he found it, was bitter
and defensive and cold.</p>
<p>"All right. The work's the
thing. I can't do it, Jason can.
You're a parapsych. If you can
switch me off—go right ahead!"</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>I stared at Regis, passing a
hand across my forehead. "What
happened?" I demanded, and
in even swifter apprehension,
"Where's Kyla? She was hurt—"</p>
<p>"Kyla's all right," Regis said,
but I got up quickly to make
sure. Kyla was outside, lying
quite comfortably on a roll of
blankets. She was propped on her
elbow drinking something hot,
and there was a good smell of
hot food in the air. I stared at
Regis and demanded, "I didn't
conk out, did I, from a little
scratch like this?" I looked carelessly
at my gashed hand.</p>
<p>"Wait—" Regis held me back,
"don't go out just yet. Do you
remember what happened, Doctor
Allison?"</p>
<p>I stared in growing horror,
my worst fear confirmed. Regis
said quietly, "You—changed.
Probably from the shock of seeing—"
he stopped in mid-sentence,
and I said, "The last thing
I remember is seeing that Kyla
was bleeding, when we got her
clothes off. But—good Gods, a
little blood wouldn't scare <i>me</i>,
and Jay Allison's a surgeon,
would it bring him roaring up
like that?"</p>
<p>"I couldn't say." Regis looked
as if he knew more than he was
telling. "I don't believe that Dr.
Allison—he's not much like you—was
very concerned with Kyla.
Are you?"</p>
<p>"Damn right I am. I want to
make sure she's all right—" I
stopped abruptly. "Regis—did
they all see it?"</p>
<p>"Only Kendricks and I," Regis
said, "and we will not speak of
it."</p>
<p>I said, "Thanks," and felt his
reassuring hand-clasp. Damn it,
demigod or prince, I <i>liked</i> Regis.</p>
<p>I went out and accepted some
food from the kettle and sat
down between Kyla and Kendricks
to eat. I was shaken, weak
with reaction. Furthermore, I
realized that we couldn't stay
here. It was too vulnerable to attack.
So, in our present condition,
were we. If we could push
on hard enough to get near Dammerung
pass tonight, then tomorrow
we could cross it early,
before the sun warmed the snow
and we had snowslides and slush
to deal with. Beyond Dammerung,
I knew the tribesmen and
could speak their language.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>I mentioned this, and Kendricks
looked doubtfully at Kyla.
"Can she climb?"</p>
<p>"Can she stay here?" I countered.
But I went and sat beside
her anyhow.</p>
<p>"How badly are you hurt? Do
you think you can travel?"</p>
<p>She said fiercely, "Of course
I can climb! I tell you, I'm no
weak girl, I'm a free Amazon!"
She flung off the blanket somebody
had tucked around her
legs. Her lips looked a little
pinched, but the long stride was
steady as she walked to the fire
and demanded more soup.</p>
<p>We struck the camp in minutes.
The trailmen band of raiding
females had snatched up almost
everything portable, and
there was no sense in striking
and caching the tent; they'd return
and hunt it out. If we came
back with a trailmen escort, we
wouldn't need it anyway. I ordered
them to leave everything
but the lightest gear, and examined
each remaining rucksack.
Rations for the night we would
spend in the pass, our few remaining
blankets, ropes, sunglasses.
Everything else I ruthlessly
ordered left behind.</p>
<p>It was harder going now. For
one thing, the sun was lowering,
and the evening wind was icy.
Nearly everyone of us had some
hurt, slight in itself, which hindered
us in climbing. Kyla was
white and rigid, but did not
spare herself; Kendricks was
suffering severely from mountain
sickness at this altitude,
and I gave him all the help I
could, but with my stiffening
slashed hand I wasn't having too
easy a time myself.</p>
<p>There was one expanse that
was sheer rock-climbing, flattened
like bugs against a wall,
scrabbling for hand-holds and
footholds. I felt it a point of
pride to lead, and I led; but by
the time we had climbed the
thirty-foot wall, and scrambled
along a ledge to where we could
pick up the trail again, I was
ready to give over. Crowding together
on the ledge, I changed
places with the veteran Lerrys,
who was better than most professional
climbers.</p>
<p>He muttered, "I thought you
said this was a <i>trail</i>!"</p>
<p>I stretched my mouth in what
was supposed to be a grin and
didn't quite make it. "For the
trailmen, this is a superhighway.
And no one else ever comes this
way."</p>
<p>Now we climbed slowly over
snow; once or twice we had to
flounder through drifts, and
once a brief bitter snowstorm
blotted out sight for twenty
minutes, while we hugged each
other on the ledge, clinging
wildly against wind and icy
sleet.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>We bivouacked that night in
a crevasse blown almost clean
of snow, well above the tree-line,
where only scrubby unkillable
thornbushes clustered. We tore
down some of them and piled
them up as a windbreak, and
bedded beneath it; but we all
thought with aching regret of<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123"></SPAN></span>
the comfort of the camp gear
we'd abandoned. The going had
gotten good and rough.</p>
<p>That night remains in my
mind as one of the most miserable
in memory. Except for the
slight ringing in my ears, the
height alone did not bother me,
but the others did not fare so
well. Most of the men had blinding
headaches, Kyla's slashed
side must have given her considerable
pain, and Kendricks had
succumbed to mountain-sickness
in its most agonizing form: severe
cramps and vomiting. I was
desperately uneasy about all of
them, but there was nothing I
could do; the only cure for
mountain-sickness is oxygen or
a lower altitude, neither of
which was practical.</p>
<p>In the windbreak we doubled
up, sharing blankets and body
warmth: I took a last look
around the close space before
crawling in beside Kendricks,
and saw the girl bedding down
slightly apart from the others.
I started to say something, but
Kendricks spoke, first. Voicing
my thoughts.</p>
<p>"Better crawl in with us, girl."
He added, coldly but not unkindly,
"you needn't worry about any
funny stuff."</p>
<p>Kyla gave me just the flicker
of a grin, and I realized she was
including me on the Darkovan
side of a joke against this big
man who was so unaware of
Darkovan etiquette. But her
voice was cool and curt as she
said, "I'm not worrying," and
loosened her heavy coat slightly
before creeping into the nest of
blankets between us.</p>
<p>It was painfully cramped, and
chilly in spite of the self-heating
blankets; we crowded close together
and Kyla's head rested on
my shoulder. I felt her snuggle
closely to me, half asleep, hunting
for a warm place; and I
found myself very much aware
of her closeness, curiously grateful
to her. An ordinary woman
would have protested, if only as
a matter of form, sharing blankets
with two strange men. I
realized that if Kyla had refused
to crawl in with us, she would
have called attention to her sex
much <i>more</i> than she did by matter-of-factly
behaving as if she
were, in fact, male.</p>
<p>She shivered convulsively, and
I whispered, "Side hurting? Are
you cold?"</p>
<p>"A little. It's been a long time
since I've been at these altitudes,
too. What it really is—I can't
get those women out of my
head."</p>
<p>Kendricks coughed, moving
uncomfortably. "I don't understand—those
creatures who attacked
us—all women—?"</p>
<p>I explained briefly. "Among
the people of the Sky, as everywhere,
more females are born
than males. But the trailmen's
lives are so balanced that they
have no room for extra females
within the Nests—the cities. So
when a girl child of the Sky People
reaches womanhood, the
other women drive her out of
the city with kicks and blows,
and she has to wander in the for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124"></SPAN></span>est
until some male comes after
her and claims her and brings
her back as his own. Then she
can never be driven forth again,
although if she bears no children
she can be forced to be a servant
to his other wives."</p>
<p>Kendricks made a little sound
of disgust.</p>
<p>"You think it cruel," Kyla said
with sudden passion, "but in the
forest they can live and find
their own food; they will not
starve or die. Many of them prefer
the forest life to living in
the Nests, and they will fight
away any male who comes near
them. We who call ourselves human
often make less provision
for our spare women."</p>
<p>She was silent, sighing as if
with pain. Kendricks made no
reply except a non-committal
grunt. I held myself back by
main force from touching Kyla,
remembering what she was, and
finally said, "We'd better quit
talking. The others want to
sleep, if we don't."</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>After a time I heard Kendricks
snoring, and Kyla's quiet
even breaths. I wondered drowsily
how Jay would have felt
about this situation—he who
hated Darkover and avoided contact
with every other human being,
crowded between a Darkovan
free-Amazon and half a
dozen assorted roughnecks. I
turned the thought off, fearing
it might somehow re-arouse him
in his brain.</p>
<p>But I had to think of something,
anything to turn aside
this consciousness of the woman's
head against my chest, her
warm breath coming and going
against my bare neck. Only by
the severest possible act of will
did I keep myself from slipping
my hand over her breasts, warm
and palpable through the thin
sweater, I wondered why Forth
had called me undisciplined. I
couldn't risk my leadership by
making advances to our contracted
guide—woman, Amazon or
whatever!</p>
<p>Somehow the girl seemed to be
the pivot point of all my
thoughts. She was not part of
the Terran HQ, she was not part
of any world Jay Allison might
have known. She belonged wholly
to Jason, to my world. Between
sleep and waking, I lost
myself in a dream of skimming
flight-wise along the tree roads,
chasing the distant form of a
girl driven from the Nest that
day with blows and curses.
Somewhere in the leaves I would
find her ... and we would return
to the city, her head garlanded
with the red leaves of a
chosen-one, and the same women
who had stoned her forth would
crowd about and welcome her
when she returned. The fleeing
woman looked over her shoulder
with Kyla's eyes; and then the
woman's form muted and Dr.
Forth was standing between us
in the tree-road, with the caduceus
emblem on his coat stretched
like a red staff between us.
Kendricks in his Spaceforce uniform
was threatening us with a
blaster, and Regis Hastur was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125"></SPAN></span>
suddenly wearing Space Service
uniform too and saying, "Jay
Allison, Jay Allison," as the tree-road
splintered and cracked beneath
our feet and we were tumbling
down the waterfall and
down and down and down....</p>
<p>"Wake up!" Kyla whispered,
and dug an elbow into my side.
I opened my eyes on crowded
blackness, grasping at the vanishing
nightmare. "What's the
matter?"</p>
<p>"You were moaning. Touch of
altitude sickness?"</p>
<p>I grunted, realized my arm
was around her shoulder, and
pulled it quickly away. After
awhile I slept again, fitfully.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>Before light we crawled wearily
out of the bivouac, cramped
and stiff and not rested, but
ready to get out of this and go
on. The snow was hard, in the
dim light, and the trail not difficult
here. After all the trouble
on the lower slopes, I think even
the amateurs had lost their desire
for adventurous climbing;
we were all just as well pleased
that the actual crossing of Dammerung
should be an anticlimax
and uneventful.</p>
<p>The sun was just rising when
we reached the pass, and we
stood for a moment, gathered
close together, in the narrow defile
between the great summits
to either side.</p>
<p>Hjalmar gave the peaks a wistful
look.</p>
<p>"Wish we could climb them."</p>
<p>Regis grinned at him companionably.
"Sometime—and
you have the word of a Hastur,
you'll be along on that expedition."
The big fellows' eyes glowed.
Regis turned to me, and said
warmly, "What about it, Jason?
A bargain? Shall we all climb it
together, next year?"</p>
<p>I started to grin back and
then some bleak black devil surged
up in me, raging. When this
was over, I'd suddenly realized,
I wouldn't be there. I wouldn't
be anywhere. I was a surrogate,
a substitute, a splinter of Jay
Allison, and when it was over,
Forth and his tactics would put
me back into what they considered
my rightful place—which
was nowhere. I'd never climb a
mountain except now, when we
were racing against time and
necessity. I set my mouth in an
unaccustomed narrow line and
said, "We'll talk about that
when we get back—if we ever
do. Now I suggest we get going.
Some of us would like to get
down to lower altitudes."</p>
<p>The trail down from Dammerung
inside the ridge, unlike the
outside trail, was clear and well-marked,
and we wound down the
slope, walking in easy single file.
As the mist thinned and we left
the snow-line behind, we saw
what looked like a great green
carpet, interspersed with shining
colors which were mere flickers
below us. I pointed them out.</p>
<p>"The treetops of the North
Forest—and the colors you see
are in the streets of the Trailcity."</p>
<p>An hour's walking brought us
to the edge of the forest. We<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_126" id="Page_126"></SPAN></span>
travelled swiftly now, forgetting
our weariness, eager to reach the
city before nightfall. It was
quiet in the forest, almost ominously
still. Over our head
somewhere, in the thick branches
which in places shut out the sunlight
completely, I knew that the
tree-roads ran crisscross, and
now and again I heard some
rustle, a fragment of sound, a
voice, a snatch of song.</p>
<p>"It's so dark down here," Rafe
muttered, "anyone living in this
forest would <i>have</i> to live in the
treetops, or go totally blind!"</p>
<p>Kendricks whispered to me,
"Are we being followed? Are
they going to jump us?"</p>
<p>"I don't think so. What you
hear are just the inhabitants of
the city—going about their daily
business up there."</p>
<p>"Queer business it must be,"
Regis said curiously, and as we
walked along the mossy, needly
forest floor, I told him something
of the trailmen's lives. I had lost
my fear. If anyone came at us
now, I could speak their language,
I could identify myself,
tell my business, name my foster-parents.
Some of my confidence
evidently spread to the
others.</p>
<p>But as we came into more and
more familiar territory, I stopped
abruptly and struck my
hand against my forehead.</p>
<p>"I knew we had forgotten
something!" I said roughly,
"I've been away from here too
long, that's all. Kyla."</p>
<p>"What about Kyla?"</p>
<p>The girl explained it herself,
in her expressionless monotone.
"I am an unattached female.
Such women are not permitted
in the Nests."</p>
<p>"That's easy, then," Lerrys
said. "She must belong to one
of us." He didn't add a syllable.
No one could have expected it;
Darkovan aristocrats don't bring
their women on trips like this,
and their women are not like
Kyla.</p>
<p>The three brothers broke into
a spate of volunteering, and
Rafe made an obscene suggestion.
Kyla scowled obstinately,
her mouth tight with what could
have been embarrassment or
rage. "If you believe I need your
protection—!"</p>
<p>"Kyla," I said tersely, "is under
<i>my</i> protection. She will be
introduced as my woman—and
treated as such."</p>
<p>Rafe twisted his mouth in an
un-funny smile. "I see the leader
keeps all the best for himself?"</p>
<p>My face must have done
something I didn't know about,
for Rafe backed slowly away. I
forced myself to speak slowly:
"Kyla is a guide, and indispensable.
If anything happens to me,
she is the only one who can lead
you back. Therefore her safety
is my personal affair. Understand?"</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>As we went along the trail,
the vague green light disappeared.
"We're right below the Trailcity,"
I whispered, and pointed
upward. All around us the Hundred
Trees rose, branchless<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127"></SPAN></span>
pillars so immense that four
men, hands joined, could not
have encircled one with their
arms. They stretched upward for
some three hundred feet, before
stretching out their interweaving
branches; above that, nothing
was visible but blackness.</p>
<p>Yet the grove was not dark,
but lighted with the startlingly
brilliant phosphorescence of the
fungi growing on the trunks,
and trimmed into bizarre ornamental
shapes. In cages of transparent
fibre, glowing insects as
large as a hand hummed softly
and continuously.</p>
<p>As I watched, a trailman—quite
naked except for an ornate
hat and a narrow binding around
the loins—descended the trunk.
He went from cage to cage, feeding
the glow-worms with bits of
shining fungus from a basket on
his arm.</p>
<p>I called to him in his own language,
and he dropped the basket,
with an exclamation, his
spidery thin body braced to flee
or to raise an alarm.</p>
<p>"But I belong to the Nest," I
called to him, and gave him the
names of my foster-parents. He
came toward me, gripping my
forearm with warm long fingers
in a gesture of greeting.</p>
<p>"Jason? Yes, I hear them
speak of you," he said in his
gentle twittering voice, "you are
at home. But those others—?"
He gestured nervously at the
strange faces.</p>
<p>"My friends," I assured him,
"and we come to beg the Old
One for an audience. For tonight
I seek shelter with my parents,
if they will receive us."</p>
<p>He raised his head and called
softly, and a slim child bounded
down the trunk and took the basket.
The trailman said, "I am
Carrho. Perhaps it would be better
if I guided you to your foster-parents,
so you will not be
challenged."</p>
<p>I breathed more freely. I did
not personally recognize Carrho,
but he looked pleasantly familiar.
Guided by him, we climbed
one by one up the dark stairway
inside the trunk, and emerged
into the bright square, shaded
by the topmost leaves into a
delicate green twilight. I felt
weary and successful.</p>
<p>Kendricks stepped gingerly on
the swaying, jiggling floor of
the square. It gave slightly at
every step, and Kendricks swore
morosely in a language that fortunately
only Rafe and I understood.
Curious trailmen flocked
to the street and twittered welcome
and surprise.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>Rafe and Kendricks betrayed
considerable contempt when I
greeted my foster-parents affectionately.
They were already old,
and I was saddened to see it;
their fur graying, their prehensile
toes and fingers crooked
with a rheumatic complaint of
some sort, their reddish eyes
bleared and rheumy. They welcomed
me, and made arrangements
for the others in my party
to be housed in an abandoned
house nearby ... they had insisted
that I, of course, must re<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128"></SPAN></span>turn
to their roof, and Kyla, of
course, had to stay with me.</p>
<p>"Couldn't we camp on the
ground instead?" Kendricks asked,
eying the flimsy shelter with
distaste.</p>
<p>"It would offend our hosts," I
said firmly. I saw nothing wrong
with it. Roofed with woven bark,
carpeted with moss which was
planted on the floor, the place
was abandoned, somewhat a bit
musty, but weathertight and
seemed comfortable to me.</p>
<p>The first thing to be done was
to despatch a messenger to the
Old One, begging the favor of
an audience with him. That
done, (by one of my foster-brothers),
we settled down to a
meal of buds, honey, insects and
birds eggs! It tasted good to me,
with the familiarity of food eaten
in childhood, but among the
others, only Kyla ate with appetite
and Regis Hastur with interested
curiosity.</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>After the demands of hospitality
had been satisfied, my
foster-parents asked the names
of my party, and I introduced
them one by one. When I named
Regis Hastur, it reduced them
to brief silence, and then to an
outcry; gently but firmly, they
insisted that their home was unworthy
to shelter the son of a
Hastur, and that he must be fittingly
entertained at the Royal
Nest of the Old One.</p>
<p>There was no gracious way
for Regis to protest, and when
the messenger returned, he prepared
to accompany him. But before
leaving, he drew me aside:</p>
<p>"I don't much like leaving the
rest of you—"</p>
<p>"You'll be safe enough."</p>
<p>"It's not that I'm worried
about, Dr. Allison."</p>
<p>"Call me Jason," I corrected
angrily. Regis said, with a little
tightening of his mouth, "That's
it. You'll have to be Dr. Allison
tomorrow when you tell the Old
One about your mission. But you
have to be the Jason he knows,
too."</p>
<p>"So—?"</p>
<p>"I wish I needn't leave here.
I wish you were—going to stay
with the men who know you only
as Jason, instead of being alone—or
only with Kyla."</p>
<p>There was something odd in
his face, and I wondered at it.
Could he—a Hastur—be jealous
of Kyla? Jealous of <i>me</i>? It had
never occurred to me that he
might be somehow attracted to
Kyla. I tried to pass it off
lightly:</p>
<p>"Kyla might divert me."</p>
<p>Regis said without emphasis,
"Yet she brought Dr. Allison
back once before." Then, surprisingly,
he laughed. "Or maybe
you're right. Maybe Kyla will—scare
away Dr. Allison if he
shows up."</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p>The coals of the dying fire laid
strange tints of color on Kyla's
face and shoulders and the wispy
waves of her dark hair. Now that
we were alone, I felt constrained.</p>
<p>"Can't you sleep, Jason?"</p>
<p>I shook my head. "Better sleep
while you can." I felt that this<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129"></SPAN></span>
night of all nights I dared not
close my eyes or when I woke I
would have vanished into the
Jay Allison I hated. For a moment
I saw the room with his
eyes; to him it would not seem
cosy and clean, but—habituated
to white sterile tile, Terran
rooms and corridors—dirty and
unsanitary as any beast's den.</p>
<p>Kyla said broodingly, "You're
a strange man, Jason. What sort
of man are you—in Terra's
world?"</p>
<p>I laughed, but there was no
mirth in it. Suddenly I had to
tell her the whole truth:</p>
<p>"Kyla, the man you know as
me doesn't exist. I was created
for this one specific task. Once
it's finished, so am I."</p>
<p>She started, her eyes widening.
"I've heard tales of—of the
Terrans and their sciences—that
they make men who aren't real,
men of metal—not bone and
flesh—"</p>
<p>Before the dawning of that
naive horror I quickly held out
my bandaged hand, took her fingers
in mine and ran them over
it. "Is this metal? No, no, Kyla.
But the man you know as Jason—I
won't be him, I'll be someone
different—" How could I explain
a subsidiary personality to
Kyla, when I didn't understand
it myself?</p>
<p>She kept my fingers in hers
softly and said, "I saw—someone
else—looking from your
eyes at me once. A ghost."</p>
<p>I shook my head savagely. "To
the Terrans, I'm the ghost!"</p>
<p>"Poor ghost," she whispered.</p>
<p>Her pity stung. I didn't want
it.</p>
<p>"What I don't remember I
can't regret. Probably I won't
even remember you." But I lied.
I knew that although I forgot
everything else, unregretting because
unremembered, I could
not bear to lose this girl, that
my ghost would walk restless
forever if I forgot her. I looked
across the fire at Kyla, cross-legged
in the faint light—only
a few coals in the brazier. She
had removed her sexless outer
clothing, and wore some clinging
garment, as simple as a child's
smock and curiously appealing.
There was still a little ridge of
bandage visible beneath it and
a random memory, not mine, remarked
in the back corners of
my brain that with the cut improperly
sutured there would be
a visible scar. <i>Visible to whom?</i></p>
<p>She reached out an appealing
hand. "Jason! Jason—?"</p>
<hr class="hr2" />
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />