Eye of the Zodiac

"He was a bright lad, smart, keen and eager to become a man. The pride of all who knew him. I was on duty at the time. When dawn came, he was as you see him now." He added, bleakly, "It would have been better had he vanished."

An idiot condemned to a life of unending labor, castrated to avoid the continuation of his line, a man who had become little more than an animal. Despised, rejected, yet needed as an essential source of labor. A ghost.

And yet, Eidhal had been kind. Dumarest wondered if there was some relationship between them. It was more than likely; in any closed community blood-ties had to be plentiful. His son, perhaps, or the son of a sister, a cousin.

Kind-yet he would have been more merciful had he thrust his spear into Odo's heart.

* * * * *

Iduna was waiting as they returned. She ran forward, eyes anxious as they looked at the dressing on Dumarest's scalp.

"Earl! I was so worried. Your head?"

"Is fine. And you?"

She had lost the ghastly pallor of exhaustion. Her hair was a smooth russet helmet about her skull, the eyes clear, her skin carrying the faint sheen of health.

Like himself she wore purple, new garments which accentuated the lines of her figure.

She fell into step beside him, Varg Eidhal discreetly falling back. He, like them all, thought her to be Dumarest's woman.

"I've been listening," she said. "The woman talked when they thought I was asleep. Earl, they don't intend to let us go!"

"Did they say that in so many words?"

"They didn't have to. They talked of what I could do, and how I could be fitted into their community. They even speculated on a probable mate." Her voice carried undertones of disgust. "As if I had been a brood mare-good only to provide new children. My body used to increase their numbers."

And to provide a new source of genes. A cross would produce healthy offspring.

"Earl, what are we going to do?"

"We wait."

"For how long? Don't you understand what I'm saying? They spoke of me-not you. Whether I had any skills in weaving, pottery making, cooking, sewing of skins and cloth. All day they've been at it, questioning, probing, and never once did they mention you. They don't need you, Earl. I think they intend to kill you."

And, probably, her. The women had been gossiping, speculating, but the decision would not be theirs.

He said, "When they talked, did they mention a name?"

"A name?"

"That of this valley. Nerth."

"No." She was positive… "I asked them where we were and they wouldn't answer. But later, I heard one tell another that these were exciting times in Ayat." Her fingers tightened on his arm. "Earl, I'm afraid. We must escape before it is too late."

Escape into a wilderness without food, a map, or weapons. A short start with guards following, ready with their spears.

"We have to wait," he said patiently. "Take each thing as it comes. When our chance comes, we'll take it."

Empty words, but they seemed to give her courage.

"Wait," she said, brightening. "Yes, Earl, we must wait. But be careful. Don't let them hurt you. Promise them anything, do anything, but stay alive!"

An unexpected reaction, but he could guess at her latent hysteria. As a bell began to toll from the Alphanian Chamber, Eidhal edged forward.

"The curfew," he said. "And the summons. It is time for you to return to your quarters."

Them, but not others. Dumarest watched with interest as a stream of men and women made their way towards the enigmatic building. To participate in ceremonies, perhaps. To dwell on the beginning, if the name of the place meant what he suspected.

Later, he stood at the window of his room and looked at the stars. It was late and he could hear no sound of movement outside. The bars were firm and resisted his tug. The door was locked-a pail had been provided for natural needs. Only the roof remained.

Dumarest examined it as he stood on the end of the upturned bed. Thick rafters were crossed by thinner members, supports for the tiles which closed the building against the sky. With his knife he eased one free, set it gently on the floor, climbed up to remove others which he set outside. Within minutes he had a hole large enough to pass his body through, one which he could seal again from within.

A weakness in his prison, but those accustomed to regarding only doors and windows as a means of egress would have overlooked the obvious. And any prisoners, held in this place, would provide their own mental chains.

He jumped from the roof, landing as lightly as a cat, freezing, crouching to spot the silhouette of any guard against the sky.

He saw nothing. Either there were no guards, or they were on the other side of the building facing the door.

Rising, he ran quickly towards the Alphanian Chamber. It rested as a somber bulk beneath the stars, a fitful gleam of yellow light showing through the cracks of shutters, the join of the great double door.

It was held by a simple lock which yielded to the point of Dumarest's knife and he pushed one of the leaves open, slipping inside to close it behind him.