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The Podruod once more raised his head, again the brass voice rang out. Behind the fat man two more Podruods jumped into the clearing. The fat man ran frantically, panting and groaning.
A shadow passed over Barch's head; he looked up with a convulsive jerk that hurt his neck. It was a raft ten feet long, four feet wide, carrying a Klau. If the Klau had looked down he might have seen Barch and Komeitk Lelianr, but his eyes were on the fat man.
Under the raft hung a dark mass, like a bundle of clothes; as the raft slid forward it unfolded, lowered arms like lengths of black hose. They coiled around the fugitive's chest, his legs, his ankles. He stumbled, fell into the thorn-bushes where he lay kicking, thrashing, screaming like a horse.
The raft moved slowly on, dragged him through the bushes, across the mud, into the lake. He sank out of sight. The surface of the lake rippled and boiled. The raft rose; the fat man now hung limp. He was covered with round brown cups. One by one they dropped away, splashed back into the lake. Barch recognized the stinger-mollusks which had jarred his arm. He squeezed himself even flatter into the ground.
The black arms contracted, the fat man was hoisted up; a black mantle dropped in limp folds around him, pinched in at the bottom, became a tight bag.
The raft rose, slid quietly down the valley. Barch turned to look for the Podruods. They had vanished.
He lay flaccid for a moment, then nudged Komeitk Lelianr. In a husky whisper he said, "Let's run for the trees."
They hurriedly climbed the hill. Long red-veined black fronds fell around them like weeping willows. They could not see, they could not be seen. On the heavy humus their feet made no sound. Every moment or so Barch stopped to listen. Silence.
Light punctured the wall of fronds. The hillside leveled off, dipped into a basin. The humus thi
Barch heard a quick breath; he spun on his heel. Behind stood a gri
Barch hesitated. The Podruod's metallic voice rang out peremptorily. Barch made no reply. He spoke again, this time with harsh emphasis. Barch saw the muscles tense to stab; dimly heard Komeitk Lelianr answering in the same tongue. The Podruod relaxed, sheathed his rapier; death moved back a pace.
The Podruod turned to Komeitk Lelianr, looked her over, up and down. He spoke again; Komeitk Lelianr replied.
"What's he saying?" Barch demanded.
Komeitk Lelianr said in a distant voice, "They want to know if there are any more of us. They're escaped slaves too. The Podruod must be a criminal of some sort."
"Oh." Barch relaxed. "Is that all?"
Komeitk Lelianr said noncommittally, "Most of it."
"What do you mean?"
"There seems to be a kind of tribe living up here." She nodded at the Podruod. "He's the chief."
The Podruod's inspection of Komeitk Lelianr suddenly aroused Barch's apprehension. He said in a hurried monotone, "Throw on the power in your shoes. He's not holding you tightly; you can break away. I'll take off down hill."
Before Komeitk Lelianr had a chance to answer, the Podruod, with a quick motion, unsheathed his blade. He motioned on ahead, pushed Barch's shoulder with a heavy hand.
Rage overcame Barch; he swung a punch. The Podruod gri
" Roy," cried Komeitk Lelianr, "be sensible! Obey him, or you'll be killed!"
"He's got his eyes on you," panted Barch. "Once we get in that cave-"
The steel menaced again; the Podruod barked out roughly. With an agonizing sickness in the pit of his stomach, Barch stumbled forward.
They crossed an open flat, climbed a little slope to the wall of a sheer limestone cliff. The yellowish-white man motioned Komeitk Lelianr into a shadowed indentation. At the far end Barch saw a narrow crevice. The first man and Komeitk Lelianr slid into the crevice. Barch followed, groped along a short irregular passage, stumbled into a low-ceilinged hall close after the girl.
Smoky yellow lamps and a blazing fire gave off warm light; there were two rough tables, benches, the smell of food and bodies. Twenty or thirty men and women were visible; others came blinking curiously out of dark corners.
Barch stood tensely, his eyes on Komeitk Lelianr. The chief was giving directions to a pair of men in gray; he turned, called across the cave to where a pot bubbled on the fire. He stood three inches more than six feet: a magnificent creature, wide, thick, without a spare ounce of flesh. His head was shaved; he had hard bony features, and walked in his heavy black boots as lightly as Lekthwans walked on air-sandals. Barch looked anxiously back to Komeitk Lelianr. She watched the chief; the lamplight reflected flickering in her eyes.
The chief walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders. Barch charged forward, stopped a great open-handed slap. He punched, felt the numb jar of blows. Lamps, walls, fires, faces became a meaningless backdrop. The red face was intent, the nostrils flared. Barch twisted the face askew with a haymaker; the face twisted back without change of expression. Barch felt his wind going, his legs felt like logs, he could hardly raise his arms. "Ellen," he croaked, "grab a rock, brain him…"
Komeitk Lelianr pressed back against the wall, turned her face away. Three great blows hit Barch. The first was like a lead hammer and the lights faded. The second was like a dark surf washing over him, the third was a rumble of distant thunder.
Barch awoke on a pile of skins. He sat up, feeling his face. It was puffy and ached dully. At a long table across the room three or four women pounded meal in stone mortars.
At the end sat Komeitk Lelianr. She rose to her feet, bent over a pot, came to Barch with a crockery bowl. "Drink this and you'll feel better."
Barch started to speak, but the words choked in his throat. He took the bowl, drank. Komeitk Lelianr stood watching. Barch stared at her coldly. "How're you making out with the chief?"
"Clet?" She shrugged.
"You speak his same language I notice."
"It's a common tongue that everyone knows."
Barch handed back the bowl, turned his head to the wall. A few minutes later he rose to his feet, staggered outside, leaned against the cliff, vomited.
Raising his head again, he saw a pair of gray men skirting the hillside, carrying a basket between them. Behind came Clet, the Podruod chief, a beast the size of a boar slung over his shoulder. His eyes fixed impassively on Barch, he strode inside the cave.
Barch settled himself upon a rock, rubbed his aching head. After a moment he raised his eyes, studied the expanse of the valley. It was shaped roughly like the Mediterranean Sea, with the cave at a position comparable to Libya. High mountains ringed the Levantine end; at Gibraltar the river cut through a narrow steep-walled notch; along the Cote d'Azur he noticed the entrance to a second valley. Directly opposite the cave, in the position of Italy, a great round-knobbed bluff reared up to dominate the valley. Strange, thought Barch, that the Klau maintain no fort up there. Looking closely he thought to see the outline of ruins.
Overcast scudded low over the mountains; a few drops of rain fell. Barch rose to his feet, shivered as a cold blast of wind penetrated the threadbare Modok garment.
He looked tentatively toward the entrance into the cave. The two men with the basket now sat beside it husking a kind of nut. One of them snapped his fingers at Barch, motioned.