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Ghittawrer than he is a Krozair?"
He looked at me as though I were a mewling infant, or a crazy man screaming at the lesser moons to halt
in their tracks. He opened his mouth, but the tent drapings ripped up and Grogor, his second in
command, appeared, throwing a quick salute, butting in, interrupting: "Gernu! The king! He calls for you
at once, gernu!"
Gafard s mouth snapped shut. He whipped up his green cloak and threw it over his shoulders. His
longsword clanked once as he strode past me. He said, "Get about your duties, Gadak. Serve me well
and you will be rewarded."
"Your orders, my commands, gernu!" I bellowed blankly.
That small incident had shown me in more revealing drama the situation between these two, between
King Genod and Gafard, the King s Striker. For all the talk of brain and hand, of genius and executive,
still when the king whistled Gafard ran. Gafard was tough and strong and ruthless and high-handed and
all the things a man needed to be to survive upon Kregen and attain a position of comfort quite apart
from power and wealth and his authority within the army was unquestioned. Still, King Genod
whistled and Gafard ran.
Then I checked. Did I not run when Gafard whistled?
The answer to that question should be satisfactorily answered this very night.
After the suns had gone down and the Maiden with the Many Smiles began to climb the heavens, I
found Duhrra thinking about wandering down to the infantry lines after more dopa, and told him what I
was going to do.
His broad idiot face broke into one huge grin. "About time, master! Huh I m with you, by Zantristar
the Merciful!"
I said, "We will take both the flying boats, for that will be easier. The little one will rest on the big one s
deck."
We gathered up all our fighting gear we would ordinarily use on duty and left our sleeping silks and spare
clothing scattered about as though we had just left casually. I wanted to leave a bolthole in case the
damned voller was not a first-class example and played up. That is a thing anyone of foresight would do,
even though I did not expect to see this place again for a long time.
The Maiden with the Many Smiles, Kregen s largest moon, gave more light than we needed for a
desperate enterprise of this nature. But I would not wait. The king might leave on the morrow after his
inspection. And my impatience had now boiled over. Rashness and recklessness they are a mark of
my own stupidity, I own.
Acting perfectly normally we walked through the moon-drenched shadows to the edge of the bluffs
overlooking the beach. In one of the curved beach hollows fenced on its seaward side the Zairian
prisoners had been lodged. They would be chained and the chains stapled to stakes driven deeply into
the sand. Here lay one chance; the sand would give more easily than earth. I had brought a length of iron
filched from the engineers stores, just in case. As it turned out we were lucky here. One of the Rapa
guards, who toppled over after Duhrra hit him on top of his crested head, carried keys on a large bronze
ring. Cautioning silence, we went among the prisoners, releasing them. They gathered about me in the
pink and golden shadows, breathing hard, hardly believing.
"You are men from Zandikar. I salute your prowess. Now we strike a blow for Zair and we strike in
absolute silence!"
"I am Ornol ti Zab, ley-Hikdar, third officer ofWersting Zinna." The man looked squat and hard, a real
sailorman, his black curly hair smothered in sand, with the black dried blood crusting about a wound.
"We are with you in this escape. But you and this giant with one hand wear the green."
"Aye," I said. "Aye, Hikdar, we do. And if there is a scrap of red about we will gladly wear that! By
Zair, yes!"
There were dead men in the dunes. Red cloth was to hand. I wound the crimson about my loins, over
the green, draped an end over the green tunic. There was no time for more. We all stole silently across
the sand. The Hikdar halted as I put my hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
"Not that way, Hikdar."
"But," he whispered back, "that way lies our swifter, our fleetWersting Zinna."
"There is a greater Jikai tonight. You are a ley-Hikdar.[4]Success this night will leap you at a bound to
Jiktar. I promise you. Your king Zinna will do no other.
He looked doubtful. I did not blame him. I could be a part of a trap, devilish sport of the Grodnims with
Zairian captives.
"King Zinna is an old man now, dom. He would sooner see his swifter back in the ship-sheds of
Zandikar."
"Yet the way I show you will deliver up a greater prize. Did you not see the flying boats land?"
He gasped. "Aye aye! This will be a great Jikai!"
So we went on through the moonlight in the way I directed. Of course, King Zinna must be old I d
last seen him fifty years ago and he d been middle-aged then. The cities and states of the Red southern
shore hang together in a sketchy alliance against the Greens, but they are touchy of their national honor. I
didn t care to which Zairian city-state the voller went just so long as I stopped off at Zy first.
Although, come to think of it, my allegiance should go to Mayfwy of Felteraz and through her to King Zo
of Sanurkazz. That was, if I had any allegiances left.
The night guard on the two vollers had been changed from Pachaks to Fristles. No doubt apims and
Chuliks and any other diffs on the roster might have been used as required. My sea-leems of Zair dealt
with the Fristles; the cat-faced diffs swiftly disposed of, the Red swamped over the Green.
The moon glistered on the ornate scrollwork gilding of the sternwalk. The hull bulged with power. Yes,
this was a fine handy craft, equipped with varters, decked, a superb fighting machine of the air. We
swarmed up like ants, climbing up onto the deck and taking by surprise the remnant of the guard sleeping
off watch there.
With brands in their fists, with their blood up, these men of Zandikar showed their mettle.
Their captain and ship-Hikdar had been slain in the battle with the two swifters of Gansk. Many of their
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