The Space Barbarians

Chapter One

Sublieutenant Mabsten heard the detector beginning to beep and walked over to the screen. He said to his warrant, “What is it, Venizelou?”

Warrant Venizelou was scowling down at the screen. “Four men, on foot. No, five. Metal on them, but not much.”

Marsten said, “Who’s on the laser rifles?”

“Jenkins and Motoshi on the one covering that direction.”

The sublieutenant looked down at the screen unhappily. “What in the name of Krishna are they doing, just walking toward us like that? You better have Jenkins cut them down.”

“Maybe they’re women.”

“Women don’t carry weapons.”

“Maybe they aren’t carrying weapons. That’s not much metal indicated.”

The sublieutenant was irritated. He was a younger man than the warrant—younger and considerably less experienced—and was continually reminded of it. He knew that the warrant and the eight enlisted men in his detachment were aware that this was his first command and that he was newly out of cadet school. Not that anything had been his fault, nor had he lost any of his small command, but everything seemed to go wrong in this remote post.

The warrant added, “Not enough metal to be a carbine or even a sword.”

The sublieutenant said, “We ought to be able to see them visually. Let’s go up on the roof.”

They went over to the side of the room where a ladder led upward. The building was approximately one hundred feet long and of roughhewn wood. The roof was flat, and at each end, behind sandbags, were rifle emplacements, two men at each.

The sublieutenant wore binoculars and now trained them. He looked for a long moment, then handed the glasses to Warrant Venizelou. “What do you make of it?”

The warrant put his eyes to the glasses, adjusted them slightly. “The one out in front’s got an orange robe on.”

“I’m not blind, “Marsten said.

“They’re coming from the direction of Nairn,” Venizelou said. “Nairn’s supposed to be pacified. United Mining’s been recruiting there.”

The lieutenant took the glasses back. He walked to the end of the roof and trained them on the approaching group again.

The two men stationed at the laser rifle looked up at him. One of them said, “Something, Lootenant?”

Marsten said, “Five men on foot.”

“You want we should ventilate them?”

“They don’t seem to be armed.”

The other enlisted man snorted at that.

The sublieutenant said unhappily, “They’re not even wearing kilts.”

“The only good Caledonian’s a dead one, sir, like everybody says.”

The sublieutenant said snappishly, “If we killed every native on the damned planet, United Interplanetary Mining’d have to import labor all the way from Sidon. The cornet’s warned us there’s been too much bloodshed already.”

He came to a sudden decision, returned his binoculars to their case and turned to the warrant, who had come up to stand beside him.

“We’ll go out and interrogate them.”

“Yes, sir.” Warrant Venizelou looked down at the riflemen. “You two keep slick, understand?”

“Sure, Warrant, we’re not empty. I still say, ventilate them.”

“That’s up to the sublieutenant to decide. Just keep that rifle trained.” The warrant turned and followed his officer.

In the room below, Warrant Venizelou picked up a short hand weapon and hung it over his shoulder by its sling before following Marsten through the door.

They issued forth into the open and advanced about fifty feet from the building and awaited the coming of the unknowns.

After a few minutes the warrant growled, “They’re all Caledonians.”

“How do you know?”

“The size of them. The shortest must be seven feet. We don’t grow ’em that size. That lead one in orange might be done up like a monk or guru, but he’s local.”

Sublieutenant Marsten said, “A lot of these people have taken soma, Warrant. Quite a few have even studied at the pagoda in New Sidon City.”

However, he unsnapped his holster and loosened the handgun. Warrant Venizelou slipped his own weapon from his shoulder and held it at a nonchalant ready.

Marsten called, “All right. You’re near enough. What do you want? This is a military post, and civilians are not allowed.”

The orange clad one continued to amble toward them, as though he hadn’t heard—or didn’t care. There was a dour quality in his face, but superimposed upon it was a gentle meekness, characteristic of one who has taken the hallucinogen soma. The others brought up the rear.

The warrant raised his weapon to the ready and trained it. “You heard the sublieutenant,” he snapped. “One more step, and I cut you in two.”

The orange clad one came to a halt and said mildly, “We walk in the path of Lord Krishna and hence know no evil.” He looked at the sublieutenant. “Have you taken your Soma, my son?”

The sublieutenant said impatiently, “I am a soldier; obviously not.”

The monk said, “That is true, my son. He who is of the military has not accepted, as yet, the teaching of Lord Krishna, ‘thou shalt not harm.’ ”

Marsten said, “What is it that you want, guru?”

The other said, “I am David and come from the town of Nairn, where I am in charge of the Shrine of Kalkin.” He turned and indicated the four men who followed him. All of these were attired in black robes, and all kept their peace. They were typical Caldonian clannsmen, save that y wore no kilts, nor did they carry claidheammors at their sides. “These are acolytes, desirous of taking their soma and entering into oneness with Lord Krishna.” All right. Very praiseworthy, I’m sure. But what are you doing here? Civilians aren’t allowed in the vicinity of military posts, thank Krishna for that!”

“My son,” the Guru David said chidingly, “you must not take the Lord Krishna’s name in vain, for it is he who leads us along the path to the Shrine of Kalkin.”

Warrant Venizelou waggled the muzzle of his gun back and forth in a negative gesture. “You heard the sublieutenant, guru. What’d you want here? You better turn around and git on back to Nairn. Out here you got a good chance to get picked up by some raiding party, and most these clannsmen don’t go for none of you people that’s taken soma.”

The monk looked at him in gentle reproof. “When you have taken your soma, my son, all evil will depart you, and no longer will you even dream of harming any living thing.”

“I know, I know,” Venizelou grunted. “But what’ya want here?”

The orange clad monk looked back to the sublieutenant. “My son, when the Guru Mark left Nairn to spread the message of Lord Krishna elsewhere, in my care he put a supply of soma sufficient for the needs of all in Nairn who might wish to enter into the Shrine of Kalkin. However, two weeks past, a raiding party from Dumbarton entered into the city and seized and destroyed the sacred soma. These four acolytes”—he gestured at his followers—“wish to follow the footsteps of Lord Krishna but have so soma.”

“Why come to me?” Marsten said. “This is a military post, not a pagoda. The nearest pagoda is in New Sidon.”

“But my son, that is many miles from here, and we have not even horses. Since so many of the people of Nairn have taken soma, the raiding parties, unresisted, have driven off all the horses, and we lack transportation. Is it not possible for you to communicate with the pagoda and have a fresh supply of holy soma sent to us?”

The sublieutenant thought about it. He said finally. “My detector indicated metal on you. What is it?”

“Metal?” the monk said blankly. Then, “Ah.” He looked at his four followers in mild reproof. “The acolytes have not as yet taken their soma and hence have fears unknown to the initiates. They carry skeans, so as to fight off the wild dogs.”

“Wild dogs,” Venizelou said. “That’s a new one. What wild dogs?”

The guru said, “My son, long years past when the Inverness Ark, which carried the first settlers to Caledonia, crashed, there were aboard various life forms from Mother Earth, including pets. In the misty years that followed the crash, many of these took to the wilderness and multiplied. Today there are both wild dogs, who run in packs, and wild cats, descended from the common house cat.”

The sublieutenant said, “Warrant, stay here with the guru and his converts. I’ll put in a report on this.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marsten turned and strode off for the building that housed his detachment. On the roof, both laser rifles were trained on the small group from Nairn. At the windows, the four enlisted men off-duty were staring out at the newcomers. The lieutenant disappeared inside.

The guru’s eyes went about the vicinity.

“I do not believe I have been here before,” he said. He took in the considerable wreckage. “There was disaster?”

“Kinda,” Warrant Venizelou said. “This usta be some kind of village of herdsmen, like. When the cornet based us here, these wild clansmen were dullies enough to try’n give us a hard time. So we had to flame the resta the houses down.”

There was infinite hurt in the face of the monk. “You mean this was a small town and you have driven the folk away?”

“That’s one way of puttin’ it, friend. But it’s the only way of dealing with these people. They’re born bandits. They don’t work. Or anyway, just enough to barely get by. They spend full time stealing from each other. They’ll spend a week sitting behind a rock on a hillside, waiting to get a potshot at their neighbor, when they oughta be out plowing or whatever.”

“But… my son, this was their town.”

The warrant was contemptuous. “They couldn’t get it into rough their empty skulls that we were going to be based here if they wanted it that way or not. We had to flame down half the clannsmen the first day. The rest took to the hills. For a while we let the women and kids stay, but you couldn’t even trust them. Finally, we cut the houses down, except for the one we’re in, and sent the rest of them packing.”

“But where do they live now?”

Venizelou shrugged. “Up in the hills somewheres, I guess. From time to time they pull some trick. Used to come especially at night. Guess they didn’t know our detectors can see as well at night as day. But we still can’t get any distance from the base without running the chance of being cut off or sniped at.”

Sublieutenant Marsten returned. “All right,” he said. “I called New Sidon City. The skimmer was coming out today, anyway with stores. A supply of soma is being sent. Come on into the longhouse. You must be hungry.” Silently, the five followed him.

Warrant Venizelou slung his weapon back over his shoulder and brought up the rear.

Inside the commandeered longhouse, the sublieutenant led them to the living quarters and gave instructions to one of the enlisted men to get food and drink for the visitors. The acolytes quietly took seats, but the orange robed monk was obviously intrigued, in a horrified way, with the military establishment. The former clann longhouse had been converted into a barracks and military spick and span was the order.

The sublieutenant, somewhat proud of his first command, was not averse to showing him around, and the follower of Krishna was properly impressed by such devices as the autostove and properly shocked by the weapons.

He said, gentle reproof in his voice, “My son, before I took my soma, upon the urging of the Guru Mark, I, too, was a clannsman, a raider. But my weapons were simple affairs, a claidheammor, a skean, a carbine. But these terrible things…” He gestured at the warrant’s short hand weapon.

The sublieutenant grunted. “Fires a limited range laser beam. Actually, weapons aren’t as sophisticated as all that. No reason to be, I suppose. They haven’t progressed to any degree beyond the point they were at way back when world government was first established on Mother Earth. By the time the League of Planets was formed, everybody took a dim view of further development of arms, and it’s now against the League Canons. I suppose if ever man ran into another intelligent life form in the galaxy, especially an aggressive one, we’d go back to research, but as it is.”

“Laser beam?” the guru said.

“Ummm!” The other tapped the pistol at his hip. “This is the smallest size. It will cut a man or horse in two at a thousand yards. The warrant’s gun, there, triples that range and more. The rifles up on the roof will cut through a spaceship just as easily, and the range is all but infinite. The laser’s by far the superior of any projectile weapon ever devised.”

The guru shuddered and in protest murmured, “My son, my son.”

Marsten shrugged. “If this planet is ever to be developed, we’ve got to curb these bandits. And the only thing they understand is force. They’d rather raid than eat. We’ve got nearly as many soldiers on this planet as there are men in the mines. And if anything, we could use more. Sink a mine shaft, and friend, you’d better have a military post right next to it, or you’ll wake up some morning with all your technicians and laborers dead and everything portable stolen.”

The guru said in puzzlement, “But my son, what is it that motivates you? You come from a far world to thus aid in the pacification of Caledonia. But why? Why do you feel it urgent to do so? The followers of the path of Lord Krishna who came from worlds beyond, I can understand, for verily the word of the final Avatara of Vishnu must be spread. But you have not taken your soma and thee do not proselytize.”

Warrant Venizelou chuckled.

Marsten glared at him in irritation but said to the monk, “Actually, the warrant is right. We’re motivated by personal gain, actually. You see, we come from the planet Sidon. It’s one of the frontier worlds, and the socioeconomic system is free enterprise, each man for himself and the devil take the hindmost.”

“I do not understand, my son.”

Marsten looked at his wrist chronometer. He scowled and said, “That skimmer should be coming in. Warrant, take a look at the detector, focus it on long range.”

Warrant Venizelou left the room, and the sublieutenant looked back at the monk. He returned to his subject. “In a society based on money, guru, if you’re not born with it, then you’d best devote your efforts to acquiring it as quickly as you can, because life can be pretty basic without an adequate supply. I was born with precious little. When the opportunity presented itself to come to Caledonia at triple the usual pay of a soldier and the possibilities of bonuses, I took it.”

The guru was aghast. “But my son, you mean you fight for pay? You harm your fellowman for personal gain? Verily, my son, it is time you took your soma, turned your back on crass materialism and walked the path of Lord Krishna. The sublieutenant sighed. “Yes, I know. However, there is a girl back on Sidon and a business I can buy into. Besides, this planet needs opening up, needs to be civilized, and if I didn’t do it, somebody else would. United Interplanetary Mining has the concessions and so far has been able to satisfy the League authorities that all is legal and aboveboard here on Caledonia.” The sublieutenant chuckled sourly. “It’s fairly easy to convince authorities that are so far away that it takes a year and more to get a message back, but I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that if a representative ever came through here the fur would fly.”

“I don’t understand, my son.”

Marsten grinned. “The League’s got some pretty rugged rules pertaining to the development of one planet by another, when both are populated. United Interplanetary Mining has a reputation for cutting corners. I don’t really know if the League of Planets is even aware that Sidon military forces are on Caledonia.”

The warrant came back in and said, “I’ve got the skimmer on the detector, sir. I imagine it’ll be in in a matter of minutes.”

The sublieutenant came to his feet. “All right, Warrant. Let’s go. I hope to Krishna they brought a ration of nip. The men are going around the bend in this Krishna forsaken post.”

Warrant Venizelou said, “Yes, sir. However, if they have brought a few bottles, we’re going to have to be sure that we get hinged only two or three at a time. That’s all these raiders need, is for us all to be smashed at once.” The monk trailed along behind them, saying, “I am always fascinated to see one of the vehicles that travels through the air. Verily, the Lord Krishna works miracles beyond belief for you who come from the far stars.” They strolled out to a cleared space that had probably once been the small town’s public square. The sublieutenant was followed by the warrant, the orange robed guru and two of the enlisted men who were off-duty. They stood at the side of the square and stared off into the north.

Shortly a speck appeared and began to grow larger.

The sublieutenant said, “We used to use groundcars, hovercraft, but some of these clansmen are getting slick. Not in this vicinity, as yet, knock on wood. But the Highland Confederation raiders have captured some laser small arms and have flamed down several of our vehicles.”

The guru was shocked. “Caledonian clannsmen using ought but carbines? But that is against the bann by which they live.”

“Yeah,” Venizelou said sourly. “They’re learning fast.”

The approaching skimmer was growing now. It swooped in. hovered for a brief moment above the field, as though checking before descent, and then dropped quickly and settled to rest in the square’s middle. It was a craft of considerable size, quite capable of holding a score of men and their field equipment or an equivalent amount of freight.

The group, started off toward the aircraft, the guru walking diffidently to one side.

An entry port opened in the side of the vehicle, and a uniformed officer in his early middle years stepped forth. The soldiers, headed by the sublieuenant, snapped to the salute.

Marsten said, “At your command, Comet DeRudder.” He turned and indicated the orange clad religious leader. “May I present the Guru David of the town of Nairn?”

DeRudder’s face darkened in a scowl. He stepped closer to the Caledonian monk and stared upward into his face.

He said finally. “It’s been a long time, but I’ve been able to follow your career from a distance.”

He turned to the sublieutenant and snapped, “His name isn’t David, and he isn’t from Nairn. He was born in what was the town of Aberdeen, and his name is John Hawk. He’s also not a guru. He’s Sachem of the Clann Hawk and Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation!”

DeRudder spun and shouted at the aircraft, “On the double!”

Chapter Two

But John of the Hawks was upon him.

He threw both arms around the smaller man and carried him flat to the ground.

Even as he did so, a beam of sizzling light reached out from the roof of the longhouse and, in a sweep, literally cut in two the sublieutenant and his three men. Troopers began to pour from the entry of the skimmer, arms in hand, the last two stumbling as the skycraft began to ascend.

The beam flamed them down and then touched as though with a magic finger the skimmer, which fell back to the ground in two parts and began to burn furiously.

John of the Hawks wrenched from the struggling cornet’s holster the handgun and rolled aside to direct the weapon at the door of the longhouse and the two remaining soldiers who came running forth. He cut them down, before they could bring their own weapons to bear.

All was death in the square now, save for John of the Hawks and Cornet DeRudder, both of whom now came to their feet.

John of the Hawks snapped, “Don’t move!”

From the longhouse came two of his fellow Caledonians, both of them shrugging out of their black robes. Beneath, they wore kilts. One of them contemptuously wiped his skean on the robe before he tossed it away.

When they came up, John snapped, “Quickly, both of you. Into the vehicle of the air before it is entirely consumed. Any weapons, especially, and books or tapes. Throw them out the door. Remain inside searching as long as you can bear the heat.”

The two ducked into the smoking, burning skimmer, and shortly various objects began to be tossed out onto the ground.

The remaining two Caldonians, also now in kilts, rather than black robes, issued from the longhouse and came up.

John said, “All are dead?”

One shrugged. “Why not? They are puny men. In close combat, any clannsman is worth a half dozen of such.”

John of the Hawks said, “Don’t be overconfident, Thomas of the Davidsons. It seldom becomes a matter of close combat with these men from Beyond. They deal their death at great distance.”

He looked at the skimmer, which was beginning now to burn more fiercely. “I had thought to build a signal fire for Don of the Clarkes,” he said. “But it will hardly be necessary. Aüi, their so-called laser rifles are a deadly tool.”

Thomas of the Davidsons looked at the silent, deep breathing Cornet DeRudder. “This is the one for the assembly of the Dail?”

“None else are left. Besides, he is a chief and hence more suitable.” He looked at the dead men. “You had best gather up their weapons. Then return to the longhouse and begin to gather such books and tapes, weapons and charges for the weapons as are here. And also their medicines. But above all, the books and weapons.”

The second of the two clansmen looked at him strangely but turned and followed Thomas of the Davidsons to obey his superior’s orders.

John turned back to DeRudder, even as his other two clannsmen stumbled out of the destroyed skimmer, coughing, their faces flushed from the fire.

One called, “We can do no more, John of the Hawks.”

DeRudder said, “We’d all better get away from the vicinity of the ship. It might go up at any time. Explode.”

John rapped, “Gather up the weapons. Get them away. They are the most valuable things on all Caledonia. They and the books.”

The others followed his command hurriedly, while John and DeRudder made their way to the side of the square.

“So we meet again, Mister of the DeRudders,” John said.

DeRudder, who was obviously shaken by the precipitous actions of the past ten minutes, said, “Mister is a title, something like your sachem or sagamore. My name is Samuel DeRudder, and my rank is cornet, somewhat similar to your rank of raid cacinue.”

“And what has happened to your companions of ten years and more ago? They who first came in the skyship Golden Hind and tried to cozen from us the products of our mines?”

DeRudder looked at him. “Harmon’s, ah, fate, I understand you are familiar with. He showed up at New Sidon and for a time spread the faith of the Shrine of Kalkin—since you stuffed soma down his throat. The skipper of the Golden Hind ? He died several years ago. He wasn’t a young man, and this exploitation of Caledonia didn’t go as quickly as we first hoped it would. Manola Perez? Manola is still with us. He holds down an executive position with United Interplanetary Mining.”

“And you?” John said. “You also hold a position with United Planetary Mining?”

“Yes, of course, and a military position with the Sidonian forces as well.”

A cloud of dust was beginning to manifest itself on the skyline. John looked in that direction, diverting his attention from DeRudder for the moment.

Approximately sixty clannsmen, carbines in hand, came riding up. Leading them was Don of the Clarks. His eyes went around the square, as did those of the whole troop.

“Aüi,” he blurted to John. “All succeeded. I hardly expected it to.”

He looked at the prisoner and scowled in memory. “It is Mister of the DeRudders. Older, but the same.”

The clannsmen were whooping and laughing in exuberation.

John snapped orders. “To the roof. Dismantle those two guns behind the emplacements. Rig litters on horses so that we can carry them. Get all the charges for them they have on hand. Go through the longhouse with care. I want every weapon, every book, all the medicine.”

One of the clannsmen, a sagamore of the Clann Fielding, said, “But we have no spare horses for such plunder as this.”

John looked at him. “We will dismount sufficient men to make room.”

Don said unhappily, “It is a poor place to be dismounted. We can ride two men on a horse. Double up.”

John shook his head at him. “No. We must ride hard, for these posts of the men from Beyond are in continual contact with the forces in New Sidon City. When communication is interrupted, they will send out additional craft to check on the reason. We must get these weapons and the prisoner back to the assembly of the Dail.”

He turned to one of his subchiefs. “Richard, Sagamore of the Coopers, choose twenty men to be dismounted. We need their steeds.”

Richard of the Coopers said blankly, “But what will they do?”

John said, “They can make their way on foot to Nairn and raid the Nairn herds. The whole town is composed of clannless slinks, by now. It will be nothing.”

Richard said, “There are precious few horses left in the Nairn herds.” But he turned to obey the command, calling for volunteers. There were few of these, however. The Caledonian is all but born on horseback and does not walk save in dire necessity. To volunteer for an action meaning certain death, yes; but to volunteer to give up one’s battle steed? No.

DeRudder said, “What are you going to do with me?” His throat was dry.

John looked at him in calculation. “You are the reason for this raid, Samuel, Cornet of the DeRndders.”

“The name is Cornet Samuel DeRudder,” the other said sourly. “What do you mean, I am the reason? Obviously, you never expected to see me when I emerged from the skimmer.”

“The Loch Confederation convenes in its annual Dail. The sachems and caciques wish to speak to a man from Beyond, to send a message to the Dail of the city of New Sidon.”

“There is no Dail of New Sidon City.”

“Whatever then is the equivalent.”

DeRudder looked at the men pouring in and out of the longhouse, laden down with spoil, which they were loading onto the beasts. “However, you don’t seem averse to doing a little looting whilst securing your messenger.”

John didn’t answer him. Instead, he began shrugging out of the orange robe. One of his clannsmen came up, carrying shoes and a belt with sword and skean. The supreme raid cacique sat on a rock, took off the sandals he had worn in his guise as a Shrine of Kalkin monk and replaced them with the shoes.

However, he took the belt, with its sword and dagger, and threw it away, to the ground. He said to DeRudder, “Your sidearm holster, please.” He still carried the other’s laser pistol in his hand.

DeRudder silently unbuckled his belt and handed it over.

John of the Hawks slipped the gun into the holster.

The clannsmen in the vicinity were staring at him.

The one who had brought him his shoes and sword belt offered him a carbine.

John of the Hawks shook his head dourly. “Keep it, if you wish.”

The other stared at him. “But it is your carbine, issued to you when you came to first manhood.”

“No longer.” John patted the handgun he had appropriated from DeRudder. “Not with weapons like this available.” He brought the gun forth again. “See that tree, up the slope?”

He pointed the gun and squeezed the trigger. A beam of light penciled forth and reached for the tree. It missed by a yard or more. He moved the gun infinitesimally, and the beam cut through the tree, toppling it. He released the trigger and looked about at the dozen or so clannsmen who were watching him.

John said, “A man with a carbine would hit the tree, surely enough, but a hundred rounds of cartridges would never cut it down.”

There was a hush.

John looked at the young clannsman who had had custody of his things. “What is that in your belt?”

“Why, my coup stick.”

“Break it. Throw it away.”

“But suppose I have an opportunity to count honorable coup on one of the strangers from Beyond.”

“Kill him instead.”

If possible, the hush deepened. Even Don, Raid Cacique of the Clarks, blinked.

“But… it is not against the bann, but it is unseemly to shed the blood when it is possible to count coup instead.”

“Not with Sidonians. These are not clannsmen, they are clannless ones, and they come from the planet Sidon not in honorable raid, but to strip our world. They know no banns and never count coup. They only kill and kill and kill, and they will do so until there are no clannsmen left on all Caledonia, save only slinks and slaves.”

John returned the gun to its holster and said to Don of the Clarks, “There is another such weapon on the body of the dead sublieutenant over there. I suggest you arm yourself with it.”

His blood companion hesitated. “I’ll… I’ll think about it,” he said. “As you know, such weapons are against the bann.”

John snorted and turned to one of the other clannsmen who had pulled off his leather shoes and was busily donning a pair he had brought from the longhouse.

“What do you have there?” John said coldly.

“Shoes from Beyond. Boots of the soldiers from Sidon.”

“What is wrong with your own shoes, made of good leather?”

The young clannsman grinned. “It is well-known that the material from Sidon wears forever, or nearly so.”

“Do you realize that if you become used to these articles from Beyond, your desire for them will continue to grow? Soon you will wish your kilts to be of the textile from Beyond, soon you will develop taste for the delicate food from Beyond, for the drink, rather than our own uisgebeatha of our fathers.”

One of the sagamores laughed. “That last, at least, I can understand. The drink of the otherworldlings is the drink of the Holy!”

John turned his cold eye on him. “Develop such tastes and ultimately you will seek this method of barter they have, money. To get money you must needs work for the Sidonians, in their mines, in their cities, as a clannless one works. In time, given such tastes and desires, you will become as though clannless yourselves.”

The one who had liberated the boots grinned again and said, “Not so long as I can take these things in raid.”

The looting of the longhouse converted into barracks had been completed, and the laughing, shouting clannsmen were tying the foreign weapons, books and tapes to the horses they had comandeered from the twenty unhappy raiders. The litters for the two laser rifles gave them some trouble but didn’t present an insurmountable problem, although the clumsy rig slowed the animals down considerably.

John of the Hawks said to DeRudder, “You can ride?”

DeRudder said, “On the planet of my birth, it is a sport. I can ride.” He swung into the saddle of the horse the other had indicated.

John of the Hawks shouted, “Quickly, now! We ride hard, or we will be overtaken by the Sidonians before we reach the shelter of the hills.”

With John, Don of the Clarks and the prisoner in the lead, the column galloped off, the pack animals between the advance elements and the rear guard.

DeRudder said, “How did you know how to operate the laser rifles?”

John, whose eyes were most often on the sky, in the direction of New Sidon City, said, “Clannsmen of the Highland Confederation, some months ago, seized some of your weapons in a raid. They also took prisoners some of your soldiers and, ah, convinced them it would be well to give instructions in the use of your weapons from Beyond.”

“But you are of the Loch Confederation.”

John looked at him. “We are beginning to learn, Samuel of the DeRudders. A delegation of the Highland Confederation came to us and showed us the workings of your laser guns.”

DeRudder looked unhappy. He was a small man, by Caledonian standards, but even in his middle years, well proportioned, and even as a prisoner of these barbarians, possessive of a cool dignity. Cornet Samuel DeRudder was no coward, whatever else he might be.

Don of the Clarks grinned at him mockingly. “It does not sit well, that in the future you will perhaps be faced with your own weapons that break the bann, eh, man from Beyond?”

DeRudder growled, “If you dullies weren’t so empty, you’d voluntarily come to our cities or mining towns and get with it. This planet is one of the richest in the system. Once under full exploitation and you’d have a paradise on your hands. This world could be a garden.”

John’s eyebrows went up cynically. “A garden for whom, Samuel of the DeRudders? Those who work in the mines are almost all, save for a few of your technicians, as you call them, Caledonians. I have never been in a mine, but from what I hear they are not gardens, Samuel of the DeRudders.”

“Just Samuel DeRudder,” the other said. “You’ve got to work before you enjoy all the things we’ve introduced from Sidon; better food, better medical care, better education, better entertainment, better clothes, better houses—better everything.”

Don laughed at him mockingly. “Perhaps you think these things from Beyond are better, Samuel, Cornet of the DeRudders, but for us, perhaps we prefer our own food and clothing and the longhouses in which we were born. Perhaps we prefer to spend our days in honorable raid upon our enemies, rather than the blackness of the mines.”

DeRudder looked at him scornfully. “And do you prefer the mumbo jumbo medicine of your bedels, when you’ve been wounded in one of those endless skirmishes of yours? I understand, you yourself were once’ cured in one of our autohospitals.”

Don was silent to that.

John said, “Some things, admittedly, that you have brought from Beyond are desirable. One of these is your medicine. But these things we can learn to use, without becoming slaves and spending our years toiling for your United Interplanetary Mining.”

DeRudder was still scornful. “And you’d prefer to get it by stealing, rather than decent work.”

John of the Hawks was irritated. He let his eyes sweep the far sky again, before answering. Then he said, “This work that you are so keen that we Caledonians take up—if it is so decent, so desirable, why do you not do it yourself? I do not note, Samuel of the DeRudders, that you spend time in the mines personally.”

“I’ve worked in my time, John. For long years I was a ship’s officer in the Exploratory Service.”

John snorted. “Until one day your ship stumbled upon Caledonia, and you saw the great opportunity to rob a whole world of its treasures. Then you stopped working yourself and began to scheme to get others to work for you, even though it meant the destruction of whole towns and the dishonorable killing of thousands of women and children.”

DeRudder looked at him. “You’ve been doing some reading. I don’t think I’ve ever met a clannsman with what you could call an education.”

John said in a low voice, “That is one of the other things worthwhile that you have brought from Beyond, Samuel of the DeRudders. And we of the clanns are beginning to realize that if we are to be able to expel you from our world we must adapt to some of your ways.”

Don of the Clarks scowled at his words. He said sourly, “Actually, as the Keepers of the Faith continually say, all necessary knowledge is in four Holy Books.”

DeRudder allowed himself the luxury of a chuckle.

John was shaking his head. “No, Don of the Clarks. The Keepers of the Faith are wrong. The four Holy Books are only the small remnant of the books that must have come to Caledonia on the Inverness Ark. On this planet Sidon, and on all the other worlds Beyond, there must be…” John looked at the otherworldling for confirmation. “There must be dozens of other books.” He added sharply, “Why do you laugh?”

“A joke of my own,” DeRudder said wryly.

One of the sagamores behind called, “A vessel of the sky!”

John of the Hawks shot a quick glance back and upward.

“Scatter!” he shouted. “Make for the caves in the hills! Those who have weapons of the Sidonians, rally with me here. We will take the animals with the two laser rifles. Otherwise, all scatter and make for the assembly of the Dail!”

Chapter Three

In times past, the meetings of the Loch Confederation Dail had been held each year in a different phylum of the loosely united claims. Today, with many of the towns leveled by the beams and bombs of the Sidonian invaders, it had convened in a large natural amphitheater in the mountains. Unlike the past, there were few women present, and there was little bartering going on. The invasion from the stars had cut the population, although the rate of decline had slackened now that the clannsmen had adapted to the new methods of warfare.

As John of the Hawks and his prisoner and small troop came riding in, he let his eyes go about the vicinity. There were large natural caves, which had been increased in size even further through the efforts of the clannsmen. He nodded approval. In case of discovery by the enemy, all would be able to find shelter.

He said to Don of the Clarks, “Remove the blindfold from the eyes of Samuel of the DeRudders and have him put under guard. He would never be able to find this place again. I go first to see to the emplacing of the laser rifles, to defend us if we are raided whilst in session. Then I go to report to my fellow sachems.”

Don grinned at him. “Stay clear of the bedels, John. Rumor has it that they are out for your kilts, for the proof is here before us that you have broken the bann a dozen times over.”

John of the Hawks snorted. “And will break ft a dozen times more, if ever we are to defeat the clannless ones from Beyond.” He turned his horse and led his group off to locate suitable stations for the laser rifles.

DeRudder looked after him thoughtfully and said, to no one in particular, “There goes the most dangerous man on all Caledonia.”

Don said mockingly, “Perhaps that is the way you think of it, Samuel of the DeRudders, but for us, there goes the hope for victory for the clanns.”

DeRudder looked at him. “There can be no victory for the clanns, Don Clark. Brave, your supreme raid cacique undoubtedly is, but it is the existence of such that will continue to lead to your decimation, since he will never give up, and others will continue to be led to their deaths because of him. I recall to mind a great… war cacique, you would call him, in the history of Mother Earth. He led a lost cause in a great civil war. So loved and respected was he, and such a genius in the military field, that he kept the war going for at least two years after his side had no chance of victory. His country was devastated as a result, and tens of thousands of brave men on both sides who could have lived, died. For decades, for a century and more after the conflict ended, his countrymen continued to honor his memory, never realizing that he had been a curse, not a blessing, to his people. His name was Lee.”

Don of the Clarks was scowling. He said. “We will see, man from Beyond. But brave clannsmen can never be defeated by clannless soldiers, slinks who are afraid to fight honorably with claidheammor, carbine and skean but must hide behind the defenses of large cities and kill at great distances and from ships from the air.”

DeRudder said dourly, “It is an often held fallacy, clannsman. Down through the ages, it has been repeated. However, I can think of few examples of tribesmen defeating civilized man with his weapons. You have never heard of them, but off-hand I can think of Fuzzy-Wuzzies and Aztecs, Zulus and Incas, Sioux and Iroquois, courageous men all, who also held to the delusion that brave barbarians can defeat lesser men, when it comes to courage, but armed with the weapons of technology.”

Don said, “I do not follow you, Samuel of the DeRudders. But come I will see that you are held in custody until the convening of the Dail.” He indicated the way.

“What do they want with me?” DeRudder growled.

Don grinned at him. “It is hardly for me to say, but for the assembly of the Dail itself.”

When all else had been attended to, John of the Hawks, his heart heavy, stopped off briefly at the tent that bore at its top his pennant as Sachem of the Hawks.

She whom he sought was carding wool in the women’s quarters when he entered. She smiled up at him gently.

“Alice,” he said. “Alice of the Thompsons.”

“John,” she said softly. “Perhaps at long last you are prepared to take your soma and enter with me into the Shrine of Kalkin.”

Agony came over his face. “Aüi, Alice. That is forever impossible. As impossible as our love, for there is no love for those who have taken this cursed drug of the men from Beyond.”

“All love is with those who walk with Lord Krishna, John,” she said with gentle reproof.

He took her by the hands and brought her to her feet and stared in misery into her eyes. “I know not why I keep you here. All others who have taken soma we have driven from the phylum, save only you. Perhaps I should let you go to New Sidon or one of the other cities. There, at least, you could attend the pagoda with the others who follow the new religion that is against the Holy. There, perhaps, you would at least be happy.”

She looked into his face and frowned slightly. “But I am happy here, John. We who have taken our soma are happy anywhere, for we walk with Lord Krishna. And here perhaps I can do the work of Kalkin, the final Avatara of Vishnu, by urging you and others to take the holy soma.”

He closed his eyes in pain and drew in a sighing breath. “Aüi, Alice,” he said meaninglessly.

He turned and left her. And she looked after him, deep, deep behind her eyes a hurt trying to come through.

John, as Sachem of the Clann Hawk, sat with his caciques in a body in the great circle that composed the assembly of the Dail of the Loch Confederation. Behind them stood the sagamores and renowned raiders, and behind them the multitude of full clannsmen. In his immediate vicinity were the other clan leaders of the Aberdeen Phylum, including Don, who, as Raid Cacique of the Clan Clark, held suffcient rank to participate in confederation decisions.

One of the elder bedels said the praise to the Holy and then retreated to the ranks of his fellows.

The aged Thomas, Sachem of the Polks, took his place at the amphitheater’s center and said, “If there is no word of protest, the first matter to come before the Dail will be that of the invaders from Beyond. Already the criers have informed us that a major chief of the Sidonians has been captured by the supreme raid cacique and can be sent with our ultimatum to this huge town New Sidon City. If there is no word of protest, I will ask that the man from Beyond, Samuel, Cornet of the DeRudders, be brought before us.”

I le held his silence for a moment, but no one spoke. Two clannsmen brought DeRudder from the cave in which he had been held, to the center of the amphitheater, and then withdrew to the ranks of their fellows.

Cornet Samuel DeRudder lacked dignity no more than he did courage. He stood erect and looked around at them, his eyes level.

He barked, “What do you want with me? I warn you now that this is one more crime to be punished. I would have thought you already had listed enough. In my kidnapping, your war chief and his group butchered a post consisting of ten men, not to speak of the entire complement of a Sidon Spacefleet skimmer.”

Thomas of the Polks looked at him evenly, “Do not speak of crime and punishment, man from Beyond. We hardly knew its meaning before your coming. Now we are beginning to learn. All over Caledonia, young people have been cozened into coming to your cities and mining centers. There they learn dishonorable ways, clannless ways that once they were taught were against the bann. There would seem to be no bann in your cities, save only these numberless laws you bring, each of which results in punishment if not observed, though some would seem impossible to observe.”

DeRudder said, “We bring the laws of civilized men!”

And Thomas of the Polks said, “We do not want them.”

“But you will get them, if you want them or not. Slowly, perhaps, but surely, the Caledonians are accepting the new. The younger people in particular are beginning to realize that the old ways were cruel and hard. Possibly half of your males were killed or crippled in your raids in the old days. It was a primitive society, hardly beyond the Neolithic, and it was fated to go.”

There was a stirring in the ranks of the assembled chiefs of the Loch Confederation, but none added to the voice of Thomas of the Polks, their senior.

He said now, “Our bedels have, Samuel, Cornet of the DeRudders, gone to the effort of reading some of your books, and although it has been difficult to understand many of your ways, still a certain amount has come through to us. It would seem that although you speak greatly of your laws and the ways of what you call civilization, your words have double meaning. In much the same manner that you arrived long years ago with your supposed holy men who wished to give all soma and make clannless ones of them, so now you attempt to cozen us with lofty praise of your laws. However, we find that you do not, yourselves, abide by them.”

“That is a lie!” DeRudder barked.

A sigh went through the assembly.

Thomas of the Polks said evenly, “You are not kyn of mine, and thus the bann does not apply; however, I do not lie. We have perused your books of laws of Sidon and of this League of Planets to which you belong. And thus we have found that illegally, by your own usage, you steal the products of our mines and also the products of our fields, of our seas.”

DeRudder said, That is a lie! Every action taken by the United Planetary Mining Company is condoned by Sidon law and the Canons of the League of Planets.” He snorted. “We have a panel of solicitors as long as your arm, making sure no League Canon is broken. We’re not dullies. Sooner or later a representative from the League will show up. We want everything to be aboveboard.”

“And how do you explain, Samuel, Comet of the DeRudders, the fact that before you arrived on Caledonia, all the lands, the mines and the seas belonged to the clannsmen. Now you claim ownership of wide areas, and they the richest.”

“We bought them! We legally took possession of areas not claimed by anyone and bought the rights of exploitation in other cases.

“But there were none who had the right to sell,” Thomas said reasonably. “The lands, the seas, the mines belong to all. A single man cannot sell such things.”

“They were no ordinary men. We signed our treaties with sachems, chiefs of tribes. If they haven’t the right to sell their own property, who has?”

“No one has,” the sachem said. “You do not bother to learn our institutions, man from Beyond. A sachem is elected by the clannsmen to perform definite duties, which are multiple. But he has no power to sign away the lands of his clann.”

DeRudder said, “All property belongs to someone, by our laws. If a head of a clann or the combined heads of phylum wish to sell the rights to mining properties, they can. So our jurors have ruled.”

“We do not completely understand these jurors of yours and how they can rule on matters here on Caledonia. But this we say. The phyla of the Loch Confederation reject your presence on Caledonia, as do, we understand, the Highland Confederation and that of the Ayr and, undoubtedly, many other confederations beyond these. We reject your claims to rights to mine our resources, to plant the fields for your own uses, to fish the seas. We reject all this and demand you return to your world of Sidon and leave us alone and to our own Holy and our dreams of the Land of Leal to come. That is the message we wish you to take to the Dail of your City of New Sidon and to your United Interplanetary Mining Company.”

DeRudder looked at him contemptuously. “You went to a lot of trouble to send a message that’ll be ignored, old man. United Mining isn’t about to leave Caledonia. And what are you going to do about it? You have no power capable of enforcing your desires. Half your towns have already been destroyed. And here you are, sulking in the hills, afraid to attempt to raid the cities any more. Afraid to come out like men, take your punishment and join up with the rest of this planet on its march to progress.”

“You will see whether the clannsmen of the Loch Confederation are slinks, man from Beyond, all in good time. And now, prepare to return to your New Sidon City.” Thomas of the Polks turned from him and addressed the assembly once more.

“If there is no protest, the second matter to come before the Dail will be submitted by Donald of the Warrens, Senior Bedel of the Loch Confederation.”

No one spoke, and an elderly, black clad religious came forth from the ranks of the bedels and Keepers of the Faith.

There was a defiant element in his aged voice. “I say the faults of John, Sachem of the Clan Hawk of the former town of Aberdeen and Supreme Raid Cacique of the Confederation.”

There was a hush that could be felt.

John of the Hawks stood, shocked. He looked about him in bewilderment.

The bedel went on doggedly, “Since being raised up to supreme raid cacique, John of the Hawks has broken the bann a score of times and more. He has forbidden his men to count honorable coup on the enemy, which is against the bann. He has used weapons that are against the bann. He has read books other than the Holy Books, books from Beyond that should be read, if at all, only by bedels and Keepers of the Faith. It is against the bann. He has spoken slightingly of the powers of the Holy and has cast doubt about the existence of the Land of Leal, for which we all yearn when life is through. It is against the bann.”

John of the Hawks was breathing deeply. When the other paused, he held up a hand. “Now hear me. You have listened to this clannless one from Beyond. He has explained to you that the Sidonians will never leave of their own will. If they are to go, we must expel them. Think you, Donald, Bedel of the Warrens, that we can expel them with claidheammors and carbines? We must learn from them. We were like children when it came to killing, when first they arrived. We must learn to use the laser rifles their handguns and pistols that fire a beam of light.”

“It is against the bann!”

“Then the bann must go!”

“The bann is the word of the Holy!”

“I doubt it. Who says so, besides the bedels and Keepers of the Faith?”

“It is against the bann to speak thus!”

“Then so be it, Donald of the Warrens. But if I and my clannsmen are to defeat the Sidonians, then we must use these new weapons. We must read the books and find still other methods to confound them. Can you tell me another way in which we can expel them from Caledonia?”

“Yes! By returning to the ways of the Holy. Since your breaking of the bann, his face has been turned from us. Thus our towns have been destroyed, our people slaughtered. It is all because we have turned from the faith of our fathers.” The bedel spun and addressed the chiefs. “I say John of the Hawks be cast down from his post as supreme raid cacique.”

David, eldest bedel of the Aberdeen Phylum, came to his feet. “I say John of the Hawks be cast down from his rank as Sachem of the Hawks.”

William of the Hawks, the clan bedel, came sadly to his feet. “I say John of the Hawks be cast down from clannsman and that his kilts be stripped from him.”

Don of the Clarks was on his feet. “I say the praises of John of the Hawks,” he shouted. “Who among us has so often been sung by the bards? Who among us has so often had the criers shout his exploits through the streets of the town?”

Donald of the Warrens said, “It has never been a question of the bravery of John of the Hawks or how often the bards have sung his praises. It is a matter of breaking the bann and bringing disgrace to the Clann Hawk, the Phylum of Aberdeen and to the entire Loch Confederation. He must go, before the Holy allows us all to be destroyed.”

William of the Davidsons called from the ranks of the sagamores, “I say the praises of John of the Hawks. Since he has led the clannsmen in raid, never before have we had such success. Why, even three days before, we killed sixteen or more of the men from Beyond and seized much of their property, and not one among us was lost. He is the greatest raid cacique that ever the bards have sung.”

And Donald of the Warrens answered doggedly, “It is not contended that John of the Hawks is not a leader of men. No one would ever brand him a slink. But it is not the matter. He violates the bann and thus turns the face of the Holy against us.”

Richard of the Fieldings was on his feet. “He has saved my life three times in raid. I say the praises of John of the Hawks!”

It was William Bedel of the Hawks, who answered this time, his voice infinitely sad. “He is my own kyn, but he breaks the bann and teaches that others break it. He must be cast down, or the faith of our fathers is destroyed.”

There were more to have their say, many more. First from the ranks of the sachems and caciques, then, in their turn, the clannsmen, but the final say was from Mildred, a Keeper of the Faith, as respected as any.

“The question today,” she said, her voice carrying, in spite of the softness of tone, “is not that of John of the Hawks. None would deny his position as our greatest raider. The question is, do we abandon our traditions, in our efforts against the men from Beyond, or do we go on secure in our faith in the Holy? I say, John of the Hawks must be stripped of his clannsman’s kilts and turned away.”

Ultimately, it was put to the vote of the sachems and caciques, and shock came over the face of John and his closest supporters when the vote carried by a small majority. He turned in his bewilderment to the assembly of the clannsmen, but when the vote was taken here his sholders slumped in disbelief.

Donald of the Warrens said, “It is now time to dishonor John, the clannless one. Who among all will volunteer?”

Several clannsmen and even caciques began to move forward, old enemies and rivals, John saw dully.

But Don of the Clarks stepped forward more quickly than any others. He stood before his former commander.

John shook his head. “And… and you, too, Don of the Clarks?”

Don, agony in his face, struck him symbolically with his coup stick. “Only that none other could dishonor my blood comrade,” he said hoarsely.

He reached out and unbuckled the belt of John’s kilts and pulled them away. A clannsman came up and proffered the colorless kilt of a clannless field worker. Dully, John belted it about his hips.

Don had taken the bolstered laser pistol that John had appropriated from DeRudder. Now he took it to the cornet.

“You’d best have this,” he said flatly. “On your return, you will possibly be subjected to raiders. Not of this confederation, but others do not know of your position as messenger from this Dail to New Sidon City.”

Samuel DeRudder belted the holster about him. He gestured with a thumb toward John, who, his head low, was being escorted away by two clannsmen, both of whom wore shame on their faces.

“What happens to him now?” DeRudder said.

“What matter to you?” Don of the Clarks growled.

“I just wondered,” DeRudder said dryly. “There goes the man that but a few hours ago you named the hope of the Caledonians.”

Chapter Four

Don of the Clarks and Cornet Samuel DeRudder ate before the Sidonian was again blindfolded, mounted on a horse and led away by the Clann Clark Raid Cacique. During their ride of an hour or more, Don said little, immersed in his own bitter thoughts.

Finally they halted, and the blindfold was removed.

Don of the Clarks pointed. “In that direction lies your cursed New Sidon City. You will probably not make it before late tomorrow, at earliest. In your saddlebags are bread and meat. For the sake of your message, I hope you are not stumbled upon by raiders from the Highland Confederation or those from Ayr.”

DeRudder looked at him questioningly. “Your friend John seemed to be in favor of uniting with these other confederations to combat us. I wonder why you haven’t done it.”

Don looked at him uncomfortably. “Perhaps because although it is not against the bann, it is not meet. The Keepers of the Faith oppose such large scale raids that whole confederations would be involved. Too much of the blood would be spilt.”

DeRudder laughed suddenly. “The United Interplanetary Mining Company ought to subsidize these Keepers of the Faith of yours.”

The clannsman’s face darkened, but he said nothing.

Instead, his eyes had gone to the ground, and he scowled at something he evidently saw there.

He said, “I’ll go on with you for a way.”

DeRudder was mystified but shrugged it off and kicked heels into the side of his beast.

A few minutes later, he saw the reason for the other’s continued presence. They topped a rise and sported before them John, trudging across the heath, alone and unmounted.

He heard them shortly and turned. His face was empty.

Don drew up and dismounted. He unstrapped the harness around his waist and held out the claidheammor and skean scabbards and the reins of his animal.

He said simply, “I can walk back.”

John looked at him. Finally he said, “As a clannless one, I am forbidden the wearing of the claidheammor.”

Don said, “Yes, I know. And any clannsman who found you without clann kilts and bearing arms would attack you. But what is the alternative… John? Your only way to survive now would be to enter the longhouse of some clann as a servant. And I do not think he who was once supreme raid cacique could ever become a servant. I understand that in the mountains some clannless ones, products of the destroyed towns, have banded together and survive by raiding both the Sidonians and the phyla. Perhaps you can find them.”

John shook his head at him in surprise. “You would have me turn into a clannless bandit?”

“I would have you live, for until you were stripped of your kilts… John, we were blood comrades. And… and though it be against the bann, for me, we still remain.” He turned and walked back in the direction from which he and DeRudder had just come.

John looked after him until he disappeared over the rise of hill.

DeRudder said dryly, “Greater love hath no man, eh?”

John said, “You wouldn’t understand, Samuel of the DeRudders.” He swung his leg up over the saddle.

“Perhaps I would,” DeRudder said. “There’s another alternative to joining up with the hill bandits, you know.”

John grunted. “Yes. I can continue to roam the heath until I run into a raider band and am cut down.”

DeRudder fell in beside him. “You can come to New Sidon City.”

John grunted again. “It had never occurred to me.”

“Think about it.”

John was irritated. “What would I do in this city of yours? I know nothing of cities. Besides, you Sidonians carry the bloodfeud with he who was once Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation.”

“We don’t have any such institution as the bloodfeud, John. And above all, we need capable men, and especially capable Caledonians, if ever we are to develop this fantastic world.”

John was scowling. “But you and I carry the bloodfeud. You shamed me when I was but a lad.”

DeRudder said in deprecation, “You forget your own ways, John. I thought a clannless one, such as yourself, was not allowed such luxuries as vendetta.”

The big man flushed. “You are correct,” he said in a low voice. “I had forgotten.” He added, “For that matter, you too are clannless. We are both men without honor.”

“Among civilized men, you can gain or lose honor only through your own actions.”

The conception was new to the Caledonian, and he could only scowl as he thought about it. “But one who is born clannless?”

“Like everyone else, makes or fails to make his own degree of honor, or ethics, if you will.”

“Any Keeper of the Faith can tell you that true honor and faith are only in the hands of the phylum and down, through it, to the clanns.”

DeRudder looked at him in amusement. “Don’t you think you have finally arrived at the point where you should reject some of these teachings of the Keepers of the Faith? In fact, you already have. That’s why you’re on your own. By the way, you’d better make up your mind whether or not you wish to accompany me to New Sidon City.”

“Why?”

DeRudder pointed. “Because there is a skimmer, and they’ve probably detected our body heat and will be on the scene shortly.”

John stared up at the distant dot in the sky. “It seems as though my decision has been made for me. If I refuse to go with you, they will undoubtedly cut me down with their flamers.”

“I can see no particular reason to allow you to take to the hills and do your best to raid our mining developments.”

As the aircraft grew larger, John, staring up at it, said, “What makes it fly?”

DeRudder chuckled. “John, you wouldn’t understand if I tried to tell you.”

“I am not a fool, Samuel of the DeRudders,” the Caledonian said coldly.

“It is not a matter of being a fool. You would not even understand the terminology. When you are in New Sidon City, you can attend school, possibly at night. At least you can already read and have even done a certain amount of studying of some of the books you’ve captured from us—in spite of the banns of your Keepers of the Faith. In a year or two, perhaps you’ll have progressed to the point where aerodynamics need not be a complete mystery.”

“School?” John said. “I thought you would put me to work in your mines.”

“School, too,” DeRudder said. “I keep telling you, we are here to develop this benighted planet. Uneducated half savages don’t lend themselves to a civilized culture. One of our biggest tasks is to get the population into schools. Besides, our mines are not the only projects that call for employees. There are a thousand tasks involved in conducting a city such as New Sidon. Where you’ll fit in, I don’t know at this stage.”

The skimmer came swooping in, circled them twice, then settled some fifty feet off.

A loudspeaker said, “Identify yourselves.”

DeRudder barked, “I am Cornet Samuel DeRudder of New Sidon City, and this is John Hawk, formerly of the town of Aberdeen but who now is to take a position with United Interplanetary Mines.”

An entry port opened, and a warrant and two enlisted men issued forth, all three with hand weapons at the ready. The warrant saluted DeRudder but turned a beady eye to the giant Caledonian.

“Drop those toad stickers you’re wearing, friend. You won’t need them in the city.”

John unbuckled his belt and let the claidheammor and skean drop to the ground.

Even as he dismounted, DeRudder said, “You can take us to New Sidon? I don’t seem to recognize you, Warrant.”

“Yes, sir. We’re from Berkeley, sir, but sure we can take you back to your own city. It’s more or less on the way. What are you doing out here, sir?”

DeRudder said briefly, “I was captured by clannsmen of the Loch Confederation, but they turned me loose. This man volunteered to return to New Sidon with me.”

“Turned you loose? That’s a new one, sir.” John had dismounted too. Now the Sidonian warrant approached him warily and gave him a quick frisking. “Sorry,” he said, “but you know how it is.”

“I vouch for him, soldier,” DeRudder said testily.

“Yes, sir. However, I know a case where one of these dallies got taken prisoner and into a skimmer, and what d’ya think happens? Once a couple of hundred feet up into the air and he whips out a sticker like they carry and nigh finishes off the whole crew before somebody manages to flame him down.”

John bore the search, which revealed nothing. The warrant led the way back to the skycraft, the wary enlisted men, guns still at the ready, bringing up the rear.

Inside the craft, John took a deep breath as it began to rise. Long years before he had once ridden in a surface craft of the men from Beyond. Now, as then, there was a sinking in the belly as the strange means of locomotion began. They were seated in the rear, in only moderately comfortable metal seats, obviously a compartment for soldiers being airlifted from point to point when trouble arose. By straining, he could see out a small port. He closed his eyes briefly as the ground sank away.

DeRudder said mockingly, “And how, John Hawk, are your clannsmen going to defeat enemies that have devices such as this at their command?”

John cleared his throat. “I don’t know.”

Through the port, John could see the city loom before them. He had seen it before, from a distance and from the hills, but he had not realized its magnitude. And this was but one of the cities of the men from Beyond, nor did he know whether it was the largest. But certainly no town in the Loch Confederation began to rival it, or any other in all Caledonia, as far as he knew.

It was a walled city, situated along a river, and in the approximate center was a great cleared space, obviously landing ground for such craft as the skimmer in which they rode, and for great ships from space as well. Their own airborne vessel made for it, the pilot receiving landing instructions as they came in.

John attempted to disguise his relief that the trip through the air had ended without tragedy. Although in his time, he had scaled fairly formidable mountains, he had never liked the sensation of height.

They issued forth from the skimmer, and a small land car, supported by air cushions, came skittering up.

“Take us to the ad building,” DeRudder said to the enlisted man behind the controls.

“Yes, sir, Cornet.” The other saluted.

John followed the Sidonian into the back of the vehicle and surreptitiously held on, as they zoomed off.

The ad building, as DeRudder had called it, was to the far side of the field. There was an air of ultraefficiency about it never witnessed by the Aberdeen clannsman before. Caledonians were on the philosophical side when it came to even such matters as obeying sagamores and caciques during their raids. Obedience to a raid chief was a voluntary thing, not truly a requirement.

They left their vehicle, and John followed DeRudder into a large entrance. Two guards at the door snapped to attention, presenting their hand weapons in a salute. The cornet flipped them a semi-salute in return and strode on, unspeaking. John looked at them from the corner of his eye. Little men, by Caledonian standards, as all these Sidonians were little men; few indeed were as much as six and a half feet tall. However although he didn’t know the old saying of another frontier age, he was aware of the truth of it. “All men are created equal—Sam’l Colt made “em that way.” He would hate to see what these two could do to a raiding party, with their weapons, from a distance of half a mile or more.

Samuel DeRudder came up before a desk. The man behind it looked up, startled, and then began to scramble to his feet to salute.

DeRudder said, “At ease, Ensign.”

“Cornet DeRudder! We had given you up for lost. The detachment at—”

“I know, I know. I was the sole survivor. Clannsmen of the Loch Confederation took me prisoner.”

“You’re lucky to be alive, sir!” The ensign sank back into his chair.

DeRudder said, “Any developments since I’ve been gone?”

“Not especially.” The ensign ran a hand back through his hair, as though in despair. “Two more skimmers banged up. Both got back, though. A patrol was wiped out up in the hills where those Highland Confederation clannsmen are. It’s evidently worse up there than here, sir. Leading a patrol through those mist shrouded hills full of murderous seven foot howling barbarians is like trying to collect crocodiles in the Amazon Park by diving into the river and swimming after them. And air transport’s no good either. Those Highlanders are crack shots, and sitting in all those mist covered hills, in caves and such, where the detectors won’t spot them. Come down below the mist to take a look, and what do you know? You’re dead.”

Cornet DeRudder wasn’t amused. “Got any answers, soldier?”

“No, sir. I sure haven’t. Trying to pacify this wild bunch of cattle rustling, horse stealing, murderous pillagers is more of a job than we ever thought it was going to be. We thought it was kind of a police action. We raid them if they gave us any trouble. But that’s their favorite occupation raiding and being raided. It’s like saying, “Junior if you take any more of that cake, I’m going to make you eat a whole dish of ice cream.’ ”

The ensign could evidently see that the comet still wasn’t amused. He said, “Who’s this, sir?” He pulled a report blank toward him.

“John Hawk. A Caledonian from the former town of Aberdeen. He’s come to take a job with the company.”

The ensign frowned unhappily, taking in the looming former clannsman and war cacique.

I vouch for him,” DeRudder said impatiently. Yes, sir. It’s just that we’re kind of busy. Won’t be able to process him for several days.”

“I’ll take him into my quarters. He’s a cut above the ordinary, Ensign.”

“Yes, sir.” The ensign made some marks on the report. “Got it, sir.”

“And, Ensign, see to it that a new ID credit card is cut for me and sent up to my quarters. All my things were taken, of course. My ID number is M-16A-15.643.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll do that immediately.”

John followed the other back through the entry. DeRudder waved a hand, summoning another of the small land cars. It came swooping up to them, and they climbed in.

As they progressed through the streets of New Sidon City, John again tried to hide the wide eyed element he was projecting. He had never seen so large a town; he had never seen such numbers of people; nor had he ever witnessed such a scurrying, such an amount of construction, such obvious purpose in what on the surface would have seemed utter confusion. A Caledonian town was on the slow moving side, even during the yearly festival of the Dail. DeRudder hid his amusement.

They darted down a side street and shortly to an apartment house. It was, John decided, at least the size of a longhouse on the ground floor alone. But then it towered some ten stories, as though one longhouse had been stacked atop another. For the moment, he could see no advantage to such an arrangement, for surely the aged and the very young would have difficulties climbing such a height.

He was glad he hadn’t said anything to that extent to DeRudder, since all was explained when they entered the gravity lift and were whisked upward. It had taken considerable courage for John to step into the shaft after the Sidonian, nor did he object when the other took his arm to steady him. There was no shame in not knowing how to conduct oneself in situations through which one had never been before.

The cornet’s apartments were on the top floor and so situated as to dominate the city. It came to John that this man must rank high among the chiefs of the Sidonians. As high, perhaps, as John had once ranked in the Loch Confederation.

DeRudder led him into what was obviously a living room, though furnished and decorated in a manner completely foreign to the Caledonian. He walked over to a piece of furniture set into the wall and said over his shoulder, “A drink? I suspect we could both use one.”

John was not particularly a drinker, but a good many things had happened to him within the past twenty-four hours. He said, “You have, perhaps, uisgebeatha?”

DeRudder said, “I have a descendent of your national beverage. We call it whiskey.” He selected a bottle from (he shelves, brought forth two glasses and poured. He handed one of them to John.

To the Caledonian warrior’s amazement, the contents were cool, although the surface of the glass seemed at room temperature.

“You want water or anything with that?” DeRudder said. John shook his head. “We have a saying in Aberdeen, that there is already too much water in uisgebeatha.”

DeRudder grunted. “It’s a saying that seems to have spread about a considerable portion of the galaxy, whatever the beverage involved.” He held his glass up. “To your successful adaptation to New Sidon City, John of the Hawks.”

John held his own glass up, but his words were bitter. “You forget that I am no longer John of the Hawks, but a clannless one.” However, he tossed the drink back.

He was prepared to snort and cough his throat clear, but then his eyes widened. He stared down into the glass. “It is uisgebeatha, without doubt,” he said. “But such uisgebeatha!”

DeRudder poured him another slug. “I told you that civilization has its advantages when it comes to material things. Among them, nip that can be appreciated and drunk for pleasure rather than just to get binged.”

He led the way into what was obviously, even to the Caledonian, a bedroom.

“You can stay here until you’re assigned quarters of your own. Over there’s the bathroom.” He made a grimace. “You could use a bath, if you don’t mind my saying so.” He looked at John with mild suspicion. “You wouldn’t have lice, would you?”

“Lice?”

“Or this planet’s equivalent. Little bugs that particularly get into your hair.”

“No,” John said. “Though it has been more difficult to maintain body cleanliness since you flamed us out of Aberdeen.

DeRudder looked at him. “I was opposed to that, John. Not that I wouldn’t have been in favor had I thought it would end the continual raids. However, I don’t believe you bring barbarians to heel by bombing their towns.”

“What is a barbarian?”

“I doubt if you’ll understand. It’s an ethnic period in man’s social evolution. You have savagery, barbarism, eventually, ah, civilization. All three periods are subdivided.”

“And what period is this city of New Sidon at, Samuel of the DeRudders?”

“That’s a good question. Come on in here, and I’ll show you how to work the plumbing. As I recall, you have running water and somewhat primitive plumbing in your long-houses, but not bathtubs, refreshers, or even showers, as we know them.” DeRudder hesitated and there was a wry element in his voice again. “New Sidon? I suppose you could say she’s at an early period of civilization, considering socioeconomic system and such.”

In the bath, DeRudder demonstrated hot water, cold water, needle sprays, soap and towels. John was astounded. He asked various questions, such as where the hot water was heated, where the refuse went, and finally just what soap was.

“I’d forgotten you didn’t have soap,” DeRudder muttered. “One simply presupposes soap. How in the world did your culture lose it, after the Inverness Ark crashed?”

“I don’t know,” John said defensively. “Evidently, we lost many things during the misty years that followed.”

“All right,” DeRudder said. “You’re on your own. I’ll get you some other clothes.”

“What is wrong with my clothing?”

“It’s dirty, among other things. Besides, this is New Sidon City, not Aberdeen. If you went around in those kilts, you’d stand out like a walrus in a goldfish bowl.”

“What’s a walrus and a goldfish bowl?”

“Never mind. I’ll be in the other room.”

John experimented with the bathing facilities. He hated to admit that they fascinated him as well as refreshed him beyond any point he could ever remember. There were many aspects to this way of life of the men from Beyond.

In the next room, he could hear Cornet DeRudder on some sort of communication device. The other was saying, “I want you to send up several outfits to try on a Caledonian. He’s about average size, perhaps a little bigger, say seven feet two, give or take an inch. No, he has no insignia yet. Hasn’t been processed. Just send standard United Mining coveralls.”

The voice broke off and after a few minutes spoke again. “Cornet Samuel DeRudder reporting.” The language then deteriorated into officialese that John couldn’t follow.

When he emerged from the bath, he found several outfits laid out on his bed. He scowled in distaste. Never in his life had he worn other than kilts, shirt and jerkin. Nor did the outfits that the men from Beyond clothed themselves in seem either meet or comfortable.

DeRudder called from the living room, “Could you hurry, John? I have to leave.”

The coveralls weren’t hard to figure out. John found the outfit that fitted him best and climbed into it. He wondered, a bit narrow eyed, what would happen to his field worker’s kilts. Possibly his benefactor, if such DeRudder could be thought, would dispose of them in some manner. For a moment, he hesitated.

In the living room, the other was seated in a chair, another drink in hand. He looked at the giant of a man thoughtfully. “Nobody’d ever take you for a Sidonian,” he in uttered.

There seemed no particular answer to that. DeRudder said suddenly, “John, I’m going to warn you. No tricks.”

“Tricks?”

“You’re unarmed and don’t know the town. There are police all over it. They are armed, and they keep track of Caledonians, particularly Caledonians whose clothes indicate that they aren’t long in town.”

John said bitterly, “I am as though in a different world, and you are the only person I know in it. I don’t even understand how to leave the building, did I wish to leave. What kind of trick did you expect of me, Samuel of the DeRudders?”

“Sam DeRudder,” the other sighed. “And you’re simply John Hawk, as of arrival in New Sidon. Come on into the dining-kitchenette and I’ll show you how to manipulate the autochef.”

As John followed him, he looked at the smaller and older man from the corner of his eye. “Why do you do all this, -Samuel… Sam DeRudder?”

DeRudder said, “I don’t know. Perhaps because as I told you, we need good men if we’re ever going to develop Caledonia. You’re a good man.”

Chapter Five

Rudder gave his new guest a tour of the apartment, finally winding up back in the living room.

He indicated a desklike piece of furniture upon which was situated a blank screen. “This is a standard, universal communicator,” he said, sitting down before the screen. “Its workings are simple enough; however, you won’t be using it, at least for a time, except for reading. This switch connects you to New Sidon’s library.”

For the next ten minutes, DeRudder demonstrated to the fascinated Caledonian how to utilize the library banks.

Finally, his voice holding a trace of awe, John said, “What else will this box from Beyond do?”

The other chuckled. “Well, as I say, it’s a universal communicator. It’s a combination videophone—”

“What is a videophone?”

DeRudder told him, keeping impatience from his voice.

In seeming disbelief, John said, “You mean, with this you can talk to and be seen by anyone on all Caledonia?”

“Not exactly,” Sam DeRudder said wryly. “The other chap would have to have one too. Then you could talk to him simply by dialing his number. You see, here is the number of this communicator. If anyone dials it, then a summons rings and I answer. If I am not here, the message is taped and I play it back when I return.”

“But anywhere on all Caledonia? Any distance? With no trouble whatsoever?”

DeRudder chuckled again. He said, “Well, there is one small necessity. If your call is made anywhere outside New Sidon, you’d better have a valid ID credit card.”

“What is a valid ID credit card?”

DeRudder brought a wallet from his tunic and flicked it open. “Here’s my new one. Your friends back at the Dail confiscated my original… precious lot of good it will do them. At any rate, in ordering anything that involves credit exchange, it is necessary to put your credit card in this slot. The cost of the product or service is then deducted from your credit account.”

John shook his head. “Perhaps I will understand later. Will it be necessary for me to have such a card?”

DeRudder put his wallet away. “Yes, of course. As soon as you have been found employment, you will be issued a restricted card. It is impossible to survive without one, under ordinary circumstances. So long as you live here with me, of course, I will handle all matters pertaining to your expenditures.”

“What is a restricted credit card?”

DeRudder took a breath and looked up at the chronometer on the wall. “The kind issued to Caledonians.”

John looked at him. “Caledonians are in New Sidon what clannless ones are in one of our towns. Is it not so?”

DeRudder was uncomfortable. He came to his feet. “Not exactly, John. However, there is such a thing as security. I am a cornet in the Sidon armed forces. As such, I have access to information and resources available not even to lesser ranking Sidonians. And now, I’m going to have to leave you temporarily. Make yourself at home. Eat and drink what you will. I suggest you spend your time at the library banks, familiarizing yourself with the layout of the town and with a few of the”—he made a wry face—“banns that exist under the Canons of the League of Planets.”

John was slightly taken aback. “Then you, too, have banns?”

The other said dryly, “Believe me, John, every society I have ever heard of has had banns of one type or another. Some of them can get on the far-out side.”

He made his way to the door, saying over his shoulder, “For the time, I wouldn’t suggest you leave this apartment. You’re so unacquainted with the workings of a semi-modem city that you might get lost, or even hurt in the traffic.”

“Very well, Sam of the DeRudders.”

When the other was gone, John sat himself down cautiously at the communicator and threw the switch connecting him with the library. Carefully following his host’s instructions, he dialed city maps and spent the next hour poring over them, his eyes strained, his forehead wrinkled in concentration.

In time, the communicator’s controls became easier for him, and fascinated, he skipped from one tape to another, sampling the endless multitude of works available in the library banks.

He was stymied once or twice. When he ordered a particular subject listed in the library banks, a voice said me-tallically, “Security limitations. Priority of M-3. If you wish this tape, please present your ID credit card.”

In each case, John looked blankly at the screen and switched to a new subject.

At long last he came to his feet, went back into the dining-kitchenette and spent some time fiddling with the autochef. Disastrously, as it turned out. In his fascination with the library banks during the past two hours, he had forgotten part of DeRudder’s instructions pertaining to the ordering of food. All he could bring forth was a series of desserts. However, as with many ultraactive men not particularly prone to alcohol, John had a sweet tooth worthy of a ten year old. He polished off several pieces of chocolate cake and a slice of lemon meringue pie and returned to the communicator, deciding inwardly that if nothing else, the invaders from Beyond were far in advance of Caledonian pastry cooks.

He spent another half hour scrutinizing tapes before hearing an unfamiliar musical note. He looked up, scowling.

It sounded again.

He came to his feet and looked about the moderately large room. But the sound had come from the direction of the apartment door. He walked in that direction, frowning still, and bent down to the point where he could look into the door’s screen.

John was puzzled. There was a face there—a feminine face.

He cleared his throat and said, “I am John, Sachem of the—” But then he shook his head and said, “I am John Hawk. This is the longhouse of Samuel of the… Samuel DeRudder. May the bards sing the praises of your man-children. What do you will?”

The face laughed. “That’s quite a reception. I’m Nadine Pond. Cornet DeRudder sent me over. If you’ll activate that button to the right of the door, I’ll come in.”

“Activate?”

“Push it.”

“Oh.” John pushed the button, and the door opened.

By Caledonian standards she was a tiny thing, not more than five and a half feet tall. John’s first reaction was to wonder if she was an adult, but then, obviously she was. She was attired in a neat, trim uniform, the skirts of which were shockingly short by Aberdeen standards, and John kept his eyes studiously from her knees.

She entered briskly and touched another button, and the door closed behind her.

She looked up at him and shook her head. “I’ll never pet used to the size of you people. What in the world do you eat?”

He looked at her blankly.

The question was evidently rhetorical. She led the way into the living room and, without ado, unslung the handbaglike burden she had been carrying over her shoulder and lowered it to the couch before sitting herself down.

Nadine Pond said briskly, “Comet DeRudder is being held up longer than he had expected, being interrogated on his, uh, adventures with the Loch Confederation bandits.”

“Bandits!” John blurted in indignation.

She cocked her head to one side. “What else would you call them? I had gathered the opinion that you defected and came in on your own.”

John lowered himself into the one large chair that was actually suited for his build. His face was strained, as though rejecting his own thoughts. He said slowly, “It is true that my fellow phyletics stripped me of my kilts of clannhood, but… but they are not bandits.”

“Why not?” she said briskly. “They refuse to come in and abide by the treaties made with the friendlies.”

“The friendlies… ?”

She shrugged impatiently. “A term we use for the natives who have cooperated with us, either through taking soma or desiring to take advantage of the new cities and their occupational and educational facilities.”

John frowned at her. He said, “Not all of what you say is understandable. This is my first day in… in New Sidon. Who are you?”

Her voice became brisk again. “I am Assignment Clerk Nadine Pond. I’ve been given the job of doing the preliminary processing of you, John.”

He took her in at greater length now. She was pretty by his tastes. Alert, clean of features, a bit overearnest of expression perhaps, and dark of complexion as Caledonian lapses went—but pretty. She was obviously on the efficient and businesslike side as well, a little too much so in dealing with menfolk than was seemly.

John was irritated by her. He said grudgingly, “To how many worlds do you of Sidon and United Interplanetary Mining come and confound and kill the clannsmen and then, in contempt, call them natives and bandits and friendlies?”

She looked at him contemplatively. “Are you sure you’ve come to us with a cooperative mind, John Hawk? Perhaps it would be best if you took soma.”

“No!” he said hurriedly.

She shrugged. “Those who take it never regret doing so… I am told.”

“But you yourself have not.”

She made an offhand gesture. “That’s true. However, to get back to your question, I am not from Sidon. I work for United Interplanetary Mining, but I originally came from the satellite system of Jupiter, a Sol planet. However, the answer is many. In various parts of the galaxy, United Interplanetary Mining and similar organizations develop many unsettled, partially settled, or even sometimes well populated worlds. Caledonia is unique in some respects but not in that.”

John’s eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, and the words came out grudgingly, as though he was trying to bite them back and couldn’t. “And how do you explain to yourself cooperating in landing upon this world of us Caledonians and turning us into… bandits and friendlies?”

Nadine Pond turned and touched a control on her piece of equipment. “I think, perhaps, I should be recording this,” she mused. “I am not sure that it is going to be easy to place you, John Hawk. However…”

She took a deep breath. “Here is how I explain it to myself. I am an anthropologist, John. Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“I am a student of man’s institutions and follow a school that believes in the evolution of society. In spreading through the galaxy, man comes up with various institutions, some of them, as a result of accident—shipwreck or whatever—throwbacks to periods that we have supposedly progressed beyond. Working for United Interplanetary Mining gives me a chance to study them.” She hesitated. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

“Only some of it.”

“Well, your Caledonia is an example. When your Inverness Ark crashed, centuries ago, you Caledonians were thrown back into a primitive society. Slowly, you have been working your way back. But slowly.”

John said, “We of Caledonia were happy before the arrival of you from Beyond.”

She cocked her head. “Were you? All of you?”

“Yes!”

“Even the clannless ones? Even the widows and orphans of those who died in your endless raids upon each other?” He took a deep breath and stared at her in silence. She went on. “Happiness is an elastic word. The savage or barbarian, disease racked, inadequately fed, continually on the verge of want of one type or another, ground down by rituals and taboos, may not understand that the coming of progress will eventually result in a longer, healthier, happier life. How can he understand? He’s never witnessed it.”

“We were happy. We wanted none of your changes, your so-called progress.”

She shook her head at him sadly. “They would have come whether or not we did. We are just speeding things up. For instance, John Hawk, what was your rank before you were expelled by your clannsmen?”

His head went up. “I was a Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation.”

“Ah? I have studied Caledonian institutions. I have never heard of the office before.” John scowled. “I was the first.”

She made an amused moue. “Ah, then you can adapt? Supreme raid cacique. The rex, in embryo.”

“Rex?”

The democratically elected war chief of the ancient Romans. Later, the office began to evolve into carrying the prerogatives of a king. And tell me this, John—do you have a priesthood that is freed of the necessity to contribute to the clann economy?”

He wasn’t sure he completely understood, but he said, “We have bedels and Keepers of the Faith. They are too busy with the Holy Books and maintaining the observance of the bann to spend time in the fields or with the herds.”

“Ummm,” she nodded. “Class divided society already begins to rear its head; a leisure class. And you have clannless ones, I understand, who work for you as servants but cannot participate in clann government and decisions.”

“But they are clannless ones!” he retorted.

“Aren’t they, though? And tell me, John, in this ultra-free, ultrahappy society of yours—do those clann members who possess a larger number of horses and cattle or other private property have a greater voice in the councils, are they more quickly listened to, more often elected to clann office? Do they sometimes control the vote of less prosperous clannsmen?”

He simply scowled at her.

Nadine Pond chuckled. “John, your Caledonian culture was at a crossroads even before the Golden Hind first landed and discovered you. Probably within your lifetime, regardless of our arrival, you would have seen institutions crumble and new ones arise. Possibly you would have tried to fight it and would have gone down, or possibly you’re enough of a slick to have been one who profited, but willy-nilly, the changes would have taken place.”

“I understand only a little of what you say, Nadine of the Ponds.”

“Nadine Pond,” she corrected. “John, I understand that you Caledonians recall nothing of the history of your people, the Picts and Scots of northern Britain.”

“I have read very little of Earth history, in the books we have captured from you of Beyond.”

“Suffice its to say that when they were first discovered they were…”—she twisted her mouth in amusement—“to use some idiom of yesteryear, reckless mountain boys that made the Hatfields and McCoys look like a bunch of flower children. Their favorite entertainment for an idle weekend was raiding their neighbors, stealing the cows and horses and anything else portable, murdering anyone who got in the way and burning their houses—sometimes with the inhabitants amusingly barricaded within. This was generally considered just good, clean sport, not to be taken really seriously.”

John nodded. “They were honorable raiders.”

“Weren’t they! Neither the Romans, Anglo-Saxons nor Normans invaded the Highlands; instead, they went in for building walls to keep those horrible barbarians out. Even the Vikings didn’t raid Scotland, as they did Ireland, England and France. When they tried, with an army of forty longboats, they were received so joyously by the local Highlanders that they decided against a return engagement. Of the forty longboats, after the battle, only two took off down the loch, and only one of those got home.

“They were not slinks, these ancestors of mine!” John said, a touch of pride in his voice.

“That they weren’t. However, time marched on, and primitive clan institutions began to be affected by the arising English civilization to the south. And there’s always some native talent around that’s sharp enough to see that it’s not merely the way the wind is blowing, but the inevitable direction of cultural evolution. Fighting a change in the weather is one thing; trying to fight a change in the climate is something else entirely.

“Over a period of generations, such clans as the Campbells gradually got the idea of law and order instead of war and raiding. The MacGregors were another. Rob Roy, the Scottish national hero, something like Robin Hood, belonged to the MacGregor clan, the one that was too thoroughly given to stealing and murdering for even the Scots to stand, so that the Scots’ Privy Council passed a law making it illegal to be a MacGregor. He was, in full, Rob Roy Campbell MacGregor.

“At any rate, such prominents among the Scots learned to adapt to changing institutions and wound up owning Scotland. When feudal ways took over from primitive clan ones, the slicks became the feudalistic lords.”

John said in puzzlement, “Why do you tell me all this?”

“Because, John, the changes are coming to Caledonia, as once they came to early Scotland. There are those among you clannsmen who will see that the current cannot be bucked. Perhaps they will be looked upon as traitors by the rest, but it is they who will survive and lead the people.”

“Lead them into slavery,” he growled. She looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment Finally, “Perhaps what immediately might seem slavery to a clannsman, John Hawk, but in actuality a step forward in man’s development. In nature, a species that does not develop usually dies. And in society a culture that fails to progress eventually dies, as witness both the Egyptian and the Mayans.”

“Who?” he scowled.

“Never mind.” Nadine Pond came to her feet and frowned down at him thoughtfully. She said at last, “John Hawk, there’s something about you I am not sure of. You are possibly one of the poorest recruits that has ever come over to us. Or possibly, the best. I am going to check back with Cornet DeRudder before going further with you.”

He stood as well and attempted to cover. “You must realize,” he said, “that only this morning I was John of the Hawks, Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation.”

“So I am told. You have not had the time, even if it was in your nature, to learn to dissimilate. For the present, goodbye, John Hawk.”

He saw her to the door, not actually knowingly gallant, as she thought, but to be sure that the door was closed behind her after she left. He stood there looking at it for long moments when she was gone.

But then he turned abruptly and made his way to the bedroom Sam DeRudder had assigned him. He went to the bed and took up the field worker’s kilts he had discarded earlier. He carried them into the dining-kitchenette, where he located a sharp steak knife. He carefully inserted this into the strong hem at the bottom of the kilts and cut the threads.

A plastic card dropped into his hand, and he looked at it carefully. Only part was understandable to him. It read, ID CREDIT CABD M-16-A-15.643, CORNET SAMUEL DERUDDER, PRIORITY M-3. Otherwise, there were obvious code letters, a portrait of DeRudder and a thumbprint, as well as several punched holes.

He went back into the living room and sat himself again at the communicator. He thought about it for a long moment, then finally reached out and dialed.

A robotlike voice said, “Security limitations. Priority of M-3. If you wish this tape, please present your ID credit card.”

John put the credit card in the slot and waited, unconsciously holding his breath.

The screen lit up, and he stared at it. Finally, he reached out and took up paper and stylo and began to sketch clumsily. It took him a full ten minutes.

He dialed again, and again the card was required. He took further notes and further sketches. At long last, he settled back into the chair and thought it all through with careful deliberation. But then, he didn’t have much time. He had no way of knowing when DeRudder might return.

He flicked the library bank switch off and activated the videophone switch. He thought for another deliberate moment, to be sure of memory, then carefully dialed. This, now, was the crucial point. The credit card was still in the slot.

The screen lit up.

John said, “This is John, Sachem of the Hawks. Quickly, let me speak with Don of the Clarks.”

Within moments, Don of the Clarks was there, his face expressing jubilation.

“John! We did not expect you so soon!”

John spoke quickly, urgently. “We were picked up by one of their vehicles of the sky. I am in the longhouse of Samuel of the DeRudders. He does not know I have his card of identity that all those of Beyond must carry. Nor does he know that you are in possession of a captured communicator through which they speak long distances. Now, here is the immediate information. I have been able to locate the city plans. Here is a sketch I have made of the sewers that lead into the river.”

John held the sketch he had made earlier to the screen.

Don of the Clarks twisted his head and barked instructions.

Agonizingly long moments later, John took that sketch away and substituted the second he had made.

While it was being copied, he hurried through various questions with Don of the Clarks.

At last they were through, and Don’s face again fully occupied the screen.

John, Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation, said, “We must not waste time. At any moment, I may make some great mistake and reveal all. Send the messengers to the Highland Confederation and to the Confederation of the Ayr. The time of action is soon to be upon us.”

Chapter Six

John of the Hawks spent the next several days in a round the clock accumulation of knowledge of the ways of the newcomers from Beyond. Sometimes he was accompanied by Sam DeRudder, but in surprisingly short order, he was able to find his own way about New Sidon, and he preferred to be alone. It was obvious that DeRudder had something in mind in regard to John beyond what had originally been the case, but thus far he hadn’t brought up the question. And as far as John was concerned, so much the better. As it was now, he had the time and opportunity to check out a hundred items that would endlessly profit his long term plans.

There was much that surprised as well as interested him.

He found, for instance, a considerably larger number of Caledonians among the citizens than he had expected, nor were all of these women, children or elderly or defeated elements. He could tell himself, in contempt, that the combat age men he witnessed attending schools, working on the construction of buildings or otherwise participating in the economy of the city were slinks who should have been up in the hills fighting the invaders. However, inwardly he realized that it wasn’t just that. There was something in the air that would appeal to the type of clannsman with an inquisitive turn of mind. There was so much new and fascinating—tools, weapons, ways of doing things.

He did what there was to be done in the way of checking out the city’s defenses and was pleased to find what he had suspected. The military was actually a secondary thing as far as United Interplanetary Mines and the Sidonians were concerned. There was possibly one soldier among the invaders from Beyond for each four civilians. Immediate complete conquest of the planet wasn’t so important as getting on with its exploitation. The soldiers were a necessary evil, not an end.

And the city defenses indicated that the invaders had made the most basic of all military mistakes—they underestimated the enemy. The walls were strong enough against raiders, equipped with carbine, claidheammor and skean; the gun emplacements at each of the four corners of the city walls would have decimated horse mounted clannsmen. However, the defense authorities obviously never expected to be attacked by forces armed with more sophisticated weapons.

He didn’t spend all his time wandering the streets of the city and gawking at constructions and equipment previously unknown to him. In fact, the greater part of his time was spent in DeRudder’s apartments, leaning over the communicator screen.

That first evening, Sam DeRudder had taught him still another use of the device. In the library banks were not only the tapes of books, but an endless variety of films depicting life as it was to be found on a thousand and more worlds. And where fact left off, fiction took over, so that he was even able to run and rerun shows pertaining to the ancient Picts and Scots of whom Nadine Pond had told him.

Above all, he was fascinated by the Scotland of the present. His ancestoral home was so far and beyond anything he could ever have imagined but a week ago that it was like a fairyland. Surprisingly enough, particularly in the smaller communities, he could still see racial characteristics that pertained to his own people. Perhaps these far cousins of his were not quite the same size as the clannsmen of Caledonia, but the light complexions, the craggy faces, the eyes were all there. He couldn’t quite analyze the strange tightening of his heartstrings.

After a surreptitious check up on sewer outlets one evening, he returned to the apartment, to find Sam DeRudder there with another.

John entered the living room and came to an abrupt halt, his eyes bugging. He blurted, “Mister of the Harmons!”

Harmon looked up from where he sat on a comfort chair and said, “The name is Milton, John. Milton Harmon. Milt to my friends—such as they are.”

Sam DeRudder came over from the autobar, drinks in hand. He proffered one to Harmon. “That’s right—you two haven’t seen each other since John’s coming to New Sidon.”

John blurted, “But… but you wear not the robes of the followers of Krishna.”

Harmon’s aging over the past few years had softened considerably his sourness of expression and acidity of voice. He said, and there was a far wistfulness somewhere, “And I am not always sure, John, that I appreciate Sam’s giving me the antidote at the end of my decade rather than letting me take the booster dose.”

“Antidote?” John still flabbergasted, looked from his old enemy back to DeRudder.

Sam DeRudder, amused, handed John the second drink and headed back for the bar to dial himself one. He said, “Take that. You look as though you need it.”

And then, from the bar, “You’ve been assimilating fast these last days, John, but you simply haven’t had the time to pick up all aspects of life beyond Caledonia. You might spend a couple of hours at the communicator checking out soma.”

John was bewildered. “I don’t understand.” He looked at Harmon, as though accusingly. “You mean, you are no longer a worshipper at the Shrine of Kalkin, the false religion against the Holy?”

Harmon said ruefully, “I wouldn’t state it exactly that way.”

Sam DeRudder returned with his drink. “Briefly, John, when soma first came on the scene, the League took a tolerant view, as usual in matters pertaining to religion. However, there were dangerous aspects to the use of soma, which you’re fully aware of and I needn’t go into. League Canons now provide that the initial dosage of soma may not be effective for more than a decade. At that point, they who have taken it have two courses. They may take their booster dose and, ah, continue to follow the path of Lord Krishna. Or they may take antisoma and return, well, to the land of the living.”

Harmon said, a note of deprecation there, “It’s not the way I put it, Sam. Until you have taken soma yourself and walked with the Lord Krishna, you can have no idea of the reality of the experience.”

“However, no, thanks,” DeRudder said. He looked back at John. “Milt Harmon is an old, old associate. When his decade was up, I made sure to be there and made sure he took antisoma, rather than a new charge.”

“And what effect does this antisoma have?”

“It creates a prejudice against dosage of the hallucinogen. Otherwise…” The Sidonian shrugged. “Otherwise, there are few who wouldn’t continue to tread the way of the Avatara of Kalkin and the path of Lord Krishna.”

John finished his drink in one fell gulp but did not take his eyes from Harmon.

That worthy shook his head in self-deprecation. “John Hawk, I suppose I owe you apologies. You see, one effect of a decade spent with Krishna has a permanent aspect Though I am now…” He looked at DeRudder. “… now normal, many of the frailties and shortcomings of my former self have been burnt away or, if you will, cast aside. So then, my apologies for the harm I caused you”—he twisted his mouth ruefully—“or tried to in years past.”

John was saved the necessity of a reply by the musical note of the door.

Sam DeRudder went to answer it and returned with Nadine Pond, brisk and efficient as ever, her recorder slung over her shoulder.

She nodded to those present. “Milt, John. Have you already got underway?”

After coming to his feet to acknowledge her presence, Harmon said, “We’ve just been giving John a rundown on the short and longcomings of soma.”

“Longcomings,” she snorted. “I’ve never been an admirer of the effects of soma on the average person. For some, yes; the mentally upset, perhaps, under proper medical direction.

Milt Harmon reseated himself and said softly, “If you’ve never experienced it, don’t knock it.”

“You should know,” Nadine Pond told him, finding a place for herself in a comfort chair. “However, so far as outfits such as our United Interplanetary Mining sponsoring its use on recalcitrant natives, it defeats its purpose. Those who take soma are not good workers. They lack aggression, ambition, initiative. Perhaps your devoted follower of Lord Krishna is right, but whether or not ambition and aggression are desirable traits, men without them are not good workers. The zombi story is a myth. A zombi would be but worthless, even at brute physical labor. Two mentally and physically healthy men set to work digging a hole would accomplish the task in half the time a squad of zombis would. Why? Because they’d figure out some way to lighten the load which is, after all, on their shoulders. The zombis wouldn’t care.”

“I have heard the argument before, as one promoting free enterprise,” DeRudder said from the autobar, where he was dialing the newcomer a drink.

The assignment clerk-cum-anthropologist was impatient. “Not just free enterprise, or capitalism, which is the less mealy-mouthed term, but any socioeconomic system. Even under chattel slavery that slave who was bright and aggressive and had initiative could get to the top—unless his master was an unbelievably stupid dully. Many an ancient empire was in actuality run by slaves. They might have borne such titles as secretary or major-domo, but they were the brains behind the emperor. The same applied under feudalism. That man with push and brains could overcome the handicap of being born of low degree.”

“So far, you’ve mentioned class divided society.”

“The same applies to a collectivized society. Whenever man works, the bright and aggressive will attempt to make the load lighter, and he is as valuable under socialism, or even anarchism, for that matter, as he is under private ownership. Do you labor under the illusion that when the Russians were abuilding their so-called communist state the bright and efficient, the innovator and progressive, didn’t forge to the top?”

“They had a lot of disadvantages, in that particular example,” DeRudder argued, although not very strongly.

“That they did. But those who thwarted them eventually disappeared from the scene, especially the zombi types. As a Caledonian would say, the proof is there before you. Because they did reach their goals. It took time, but eventually they industrialized and became the second of the world powers of the period, and the reason was that eventually direction eased out of the hands of the politicians, at least on an industrial level, and into the hands of scientists, technicians and engineers.”

DeRudder sighed and lowered himself into his own favorite comfort chair. “So much for soma,” he said. “Let us get to the project at hand.” He looked at John contemplatively. “It’s not up to us to make final decisions, of course. This is simply a preliminary investigation of the possibilities. However, John Hawk, how would you like to be Mayor of New Sidon?”

John, who was even still in a mental whirl over the words of the past fifteen minutes, could only gape.

“Mayor!” he blurted.

Harmon chuckled. Nadine Pond smiled amusement.

“That’s right,” DeRudder nodded.

“But… but if I understand… if what I have been reading this past week… but that’s your equivalent of eldest sachem of a town. Even more than that.”

“Ummm, that’s right.”

“But I don’t understand. I am a Caledonian. New Sidon is a city of you from Beyond.”

Sam DeRudder leaned forward. “Only up to a certain point, John. We Sidonians, and others from Beyond, as you call it, have come to a crossroads. The initial exploitation of this planet’s resources has moved very rapidly; in fact, we’ve reached what was once called the takeoff point in industrialization. But that’s the economic aspect. Now it’s time for the political to be considered.”

“But I’m a Caledonian,” John repeated.

“Yes,” Nadine Pond said mildly. “And this is Caledonia.”

Harmon leaned forward to put in a word. “Were you of the opinion that United Interplanetary Mining expected to dominate this world indefinitely by force of arms?”

John looked at him blankly.

Sam DeRudder took over again. “John, the thing is this. Our mining concern is interested basically in Caledonia’s platinum, nothing more. Not even most of your other metals. The value of platinum is such through the League planets that it can profitably be shipped through space. In return for exploitation rights, the company can and does give a great deal to Caledonia and would like to contribute still more. In fact, the more it does contribute, the more profitable its own efforts. For instance, it would like to sponsor petroleum production, if for no other reason than that it is extremely expensive to cart its products all the way from Sidon or elsewhere. It would like to see schools turning out local doctors, so that it wouldn’t have to import such employees from the advanced planets. It would like to see skimmers being manufactured in Caledonian factories, because they’re so expensive to bring in from overspace. I could go on and on.”

John blurted, “But what has this got to do with my taking high office in a Sidonian City?”

“That’s the point,” Nadine Pond said. “This must not remain a Sidonian City. It must become a Caledonian city.

The time has come that you friendlies begin to take over the responsibilities of running your own affairs.”

John settled back in his chair, his face blank.

Milton Harmon said urgently, “You make a mistake if you think that we of the League planets are simply evil destroyers of what has been the way of Caledonia. Opportunistic, we admittedly might have been, but we bring much that you need, including the wherewithal, eventually, for this planet to join the League and take its place with the other advanced worlds.”

“But we Caledonians have no desire to join what you call the advanced worlds.”

DeRudder snorted. “More of you than you might think, John Hawk. You have been up in the hills with the malcontents and have no idea of how rapidly many Caledonians have been coming around. There is security here in our new cities—security and plenty and the opportunities to become educated and to advance.”

“But why me!”

Nadine Pond said, “John Hawk, from what you have told us, you were the youngest sachem in the whole Loch Confederation, not to mention that you also fought your way up to becoming supreme raid cacique. Obviously, you have leadership ability. You are also the highest ranking Caledonian who has ever come over to us.”

Harmon said, “Do not misunderstand the offer. We do not expect simply to put you in the office of mayor and maintain you there. It would be an interim position until political matters could be mapped out to fit local conditions; then elections would be held.”

“Elections?” John said. “How can you have elections? All in New Sidon are clannless.”

The anthropologist took over there. “In your Caledonian society, John, you were represented in your government body through the clann. Your phylum, or tribe, governed itself by a muster of sachems and caciques, each of whom were elected by the adults of the claims they represented. But in the new system, your family would make no difference at all. You would vote for your representatives from the city ward in which you live. New Sidon amounts to a city-state. Later, when we consolidate the planet a bit more, those who live outside the cities will vote in geographic areas we’ll call counties.”

She looked at DeRudder, and a sarcastic aspect came over her expression. “All this isn’t just altruism, of course. The fact is that United Interplanetary Mining and the planet Sidon have stuck their necks out a bit. Caledonia is rather far from the jurisdiction of the League, but it won’t be long before authorities will be turning up to see if League Canons are being observed. The fat will be in the fire, unless self-government is being observed.”

DeRudder said, “To quote a favorite phrase of Milt, here, that’s not exactly the way I’d put it. But it’s near enough. Well, John?” He looked up at the wall chronometer.

John Hawk was shaking his head. “I’d… I’d have to think about it. I know nothing of governing a city such as this. I am—or was—a simple sachem of a clann in the small town of Aberdeen.”

“You are as experienced as anyone else,” Milton Harmon told him. “And obviously a person of sincerity and integrity. The job is there to be done. Who would do it better?”

DeRudder came to his feet and said to Nadine Pond and Harmon, “We’ll have to get along to the company meeting. I suggest we leave John to his considerations and expect a reply from him in the morning.”

The other two stood as well, and shortly the three of them were gone.

John sat for a long time before finally leaving his own scat and making his way to the kitchenette. He stood over the autoserve and inserted his duplicate of DeRudder’s credit card into the slot and dialed Pharmacy.

He said into the screen. “Please let me have one dosage of antisoma.”

John of the Hawks left the apartment and descended the gravity lift to the street level. He turned right and, ignoring the public transportation, headed by foot toward the river front.

New Sidon’s defensive walls came down to the river edge, and John strolled along the inner side of them, attracting no particular attention. It was as DeRudder and the others had said—this was, or was rapidly becoming, a city of Caledonians.

He passed an alleyway, and a voice hissed, “John! John of the Hawks!”

Without immediately turning, he looked up and down the street. All seemed clear. He reversed his way and entered the darker passage.

“Don of the Clarks!”

They embraced in the manner of clannsmen who had taken the blood oath.

“How long have you waited?” John said.

“I but arrived.”

Don was attired in the same type coverall worn by John himself but was considerably soiled. He said sourly, “It is not the cleanest way in the world—through the sewers.” John said, “Your report?”

The other’s eyes gleamed excitement. “All is ready. The clannsmen have gathered there in the hills to the west, riding their fastest steeds. We filtered in, in small groups, and are hidden in the caves and rocks. There is no sign that we have been detected.”

“They have devices that can locate a man simply by his body heat.”

“So we know. However, we had herdsmen drive in large bodies of cattle before us, and now they graze in the same vicinity. Their devices do not detect a man, but animal heat. That of a cow, sheep or horse is no different than a man. It is our belief that thus far we have cozened them.”

John took a deep breath. “What else?”

“We have selected thirty to come through the sewers. All are armed with the weapons of Beyond which we have captured. All are our top clannsmen from the three confederations—sagamores, caciques and top raiders all. At whatever time you name, we will come through.” He brought forth charts of the immediate surroundings and of the town and stabbed with a large forefinger. “We will divide into three bodies. One will dominate the landing field where the vehicles of the sky are kept. All of these will be flamed down, so there will be no escape and no participation on their part in the fight.”

“The other two groups?”

“The two gun emplacements, on the towers at the corners of the town furthest from the river. These will be knocked out. Then we fire our signal into the air, and the clannsmen will ride at full speed from the hills. There will be no laser rifles available to be brought to bear on them before they have reached the walls. They will be up and over and in the streets with carbine, claidheammor and skean before the cursed Sidonians know what is about.”

John of the Hawks took another deep breath. “And then what, Don of the Clarks?”

“Why, then we will slay them. We will loot the city of nil that is worthy of looting. The women and children we will take to serve as clannless ones in our towns.”

“And the Caledonians here?”

They are slinks and traitors. They will share the fate ol the men from Beyond. This the supreme muster of the three united confederations has decided.”

“And then?” John pursued. “New Sidon is but one of the cities the men from Beyond have built.”

Don was scowling at him. “Why, then we’ll go on to the next. Probably to Berkeley. And we’ll sack it, in turn.”

John was shaking his head. “No. Once, we might succeed, though many will go down to black death in the attempt These from Beyond are not slinks Don of the Clarks. Many of their ways are not ours, but they are not slinks. They will fight and fight hard for their women and children, Their property and their lives. And the word will go out to their other cities, and once warned, they will not be cozened again.”

“You sound strange, John of the Hawks. This was basically your plan. It was you who devised the elaborate playacting in which you were supposedly stripped of your kilts, so that you could enter this city and spy upon the Sidonians. It was you who called for the union of confederations and the attack.”

“I have learned much in the past few days, Don. If we are successful, and admittedly, we have excellent chance, they will mount further, stronger reprisals against our phyla. Their skimmers will seek out the smallest hamlet and flame it down, as Aberdeen was flamed down. It is a battle that we cannot win, no matter how brave the clannsmen, no matter how staunchly our womenfolk back our efforts. It is a battle that cannot be won, for we are simple herdsmen and farmers, and they are advanced and as numerous as the blades of grass on the heath. In this League of theirs they have more planets than we have towns on all California.”

The lips of Don of the Clarks drew back over his teeth. “What has happened to you, John of the Hawks?”

“Perhaps I have grown a bit wiser.”

“You will not aid us in the coming battle?”

“There will be no coming battle, Don.”

The clannsman’s eyes narrowed. “The plan can and will go through without you, John.”

John shook his head. “No. It all depends upon surprise and your advance raiders coming through the sewers. If warned, the Sidonians would easily repulse you.”

“If warned!”

“Return to the clannsmen, Don of the Clarks, and tell them that I, once Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation, have joined with the men from Beyond and will soon enter the government of the city. Say that I urge that all the clanns that have thus far taken to the hills and fought the new ways make their peace with the men of the League.”

He looked away, as though seeing into a far distance. “In the long run, though perhaps you and I will not live to see it, that is the shortest path to Caledonia’s regaining of her liberty.”

There was suddenly a skean in Don of the Clarks’ right hand. “You will not betray us, John! You who were my blood brother but have now turned slink and discarded your own kilts!”

John took a quick step back and went into a fighter’s crouch, his hands slightly forward. “I am unarmed, Don of the Clarks.”

Don came in slowly, alertly. No one knew better than he the fighting qualities of John of the Hawks.

John tensed, his eyes narrow, his hands extended a bit further out.

And Don of the Clarks came to a halt, stood erect and tossed the dagger aside.

“I cannot do it,” he said simply. “You are my blood brother and have saved my life an untold number of times. How would the town criers shout this, were I to kill you?”

John put his hand out and grasped the other’s shoulder. “I do what I must do, Don of the Clarks.”

“I know. I do not understand, but I trust you.” He looked down at his feet in disgust. “It would have been the greatest raid of all times. The bards…”

“The bards would have sung themselves hoarse,” John said sourly.

He reached into a coverall pocket and fetched forth a small box. “When you return, Don of the Clarks, give this to Alice of the Thompsons. Be sure she takes it. On your honor as my blood brother, be sure she takes it.”

Don frowned down at the packet.

“And tell her,” John said, “that somehow, someday, I will come to pay the brideright to the Clann Thompson and honorably steal her for my bride.”