Gaining confidence in operating the weapon with each burst, RoVijar fired again. Splinters of unmelted stone flew in all directions as the other tower was undercut and collapsed. Several additional bursts cleared the ice completely. Then he issued careful in-structions to the young squire who was at the skim-mer's controls.

A little more smoothly, the strange offworld sky raft moved forward. Unfurling sails, the Poyolavomaar fleet commenced to follow.

RoVijar raised the barrel of the gun, fired again at the top of the wall and blew another impressive circu-lar gap in the crest. Following that, the shields and weapons lining the rampart began to disappear.

"They abandon the wall!" shouted one of the officers on Rakossa's raft excitedly. "This will be a day long sung of in the city's taverns and halls."

Rakossa did not comment. As he'd told the hu-man Trell, he cared nothing for histories.

Soon they would be within the city. He prayed de-voutly that Teeliam would not kill herself. She should have enough sense to do that, or have another do it for her, but in the past she had clung tenaciously to life. Perhaps she would remain alive in hopes of killing him, as she had so often promised to. Little fool, lit-tle fool. She played so poorly at the game.

The faster they moved, the less time she would have to think. The less time she had to think, the better were his chances of finding her alive. He had no wish to toy with a corpse.

His lead raft sailed cleanly through the gap in the wall. Other rafts crowded close behind, soldiers lofting arrows at the retreating Moulokinese.

The last of them had vanished behind the false protection of the second wall as the Poyo rafts rounded the tight bend in the canyon. The fleet slowed, waiting while RoVijar prepared to reduce this second obstacle to ash and slag.

He took his time. Powerful winds rocked the skim-mer, despite its compensating stabilizers, and RoVijar did not know how to adjust for the gale. No matter. His first bolt pa.s.sed high over the wall.

Snarling to himself, the Landgrave of Arsudun lowered the angle of the barrel. Crossbow bolts and tiny flares of blue light from the human's hand beamers reached for the skimmer, falling laughably short.

There was a dull rumble above. A storm would dampen but not slow their entrance to the city. He looked skyward curiously-saw a few clouds, har-bingers of the nearing storm no doubt. The rumble sounded again, then a third time. It was peculiar thunder, deeper yet not as reverberant.

Then the sky narrowed at the edges and he began screaming at a panicky squire, "Back sail, _back sail_!" He did not remember in that last brief moment that the offworld ship had no sails.

Jammed together as the rafts were, it was impossible to turn them quickly. The rumblings continued to echo through the canyon, some louder, some softer, coming in rapid succession now. RoVijar leaped over the side of the skimmer, landing on the ice with an impact hard enough to crack one chiv. The wind at his back, he raced for the first wall fast as the downcanyon breeze would carry him.

Hundreds of meters above, Malmeevyn EerMeesach, wizard and advisor to the Landgrave of Wannome and Sofold, supervised the execution of Milliken Williams' plan. The last of the powerful gunpowder charges were set off in the holes so laboriously drilled into the cliff tops. Then he and his a.s.sistants retreated as the upper portions of both sides of the canyon caved in.

Blocks of basalt and granite weighing a hundred tons or more tumbled majestically into the gulf. They struck hard enough to splinter the ice, though not crack it all the way through to the bottom of the solidly frozen inlet.

One gigantic irregular stone, a black iceberg that must have ma.s.sed a hundred fifty tons, landed with a thunderous _broom_ on the ice. It bounced once, rolled over and made the rear half of a Poyolavomaar raft into matchwood. Screaming sailors abandoned their craft in mindless panic instead of trying to navigate an escape.

Only a few rafts located at the rear of the fleet man-aged to back sail fast enough and with sufficient dis-cipline to retreat. Then two rafts became jammed in the ruined first wall entrance, sealing the single path of escape.

A different roar sounded as the ma.s.sed militia and sailors from the _Slanderscree_ came chivaning through the gate in the second wall to engage the remaining demoralized and scattered Poyo troops who hadn't been killed outright by the awesome power of the col-lapsing cliffs. Their only thoughts were of flight. They scrambled over rocks, ruined rafts and ruined comrades in their haste to flee. Moulokinese and Sofoldians pursued with bloodthirsty delight. Arrows, crossbows, and spears rapidly gave way to swords, axes, and other more intimate methods of destruction.

Ethan recognized one figure in the forefront of the carnage: Teeliam Hoh, wreaking murder with more enthusiasm than any warrior. He knew September would be out there also, slipping and sliding on his skates as he butchered alongside Sir Hunnar and the rest of the Tran.

He didn't share their appet.i.te for slaughter. Thank-ing the Tran who'd given him a tow, he skated over to where a gleam of light on metal showed beneath a boulder. From the looks of it, the huge stone had hit the ice, bounced once, and struck the skimmer broad-side. Not having been designed to handle that kind of impact, the flotation craft's compensators had blown and it had fallen to the ice.

Circuitry protruded from numerous gashes in the skimmer's flanks, and molecular storage modules lay like dead bugs on the ice. Several smaller rocks had made sc.r.a.p of the beam cannon. For an overview, he clambered up the chill sides of the stone.

Standing atop the boulder, he was able to see down the canyon-no longer a smooth white river, but a landscape of isolated dark shapes resting on a plain dusted with smaller rock fragments. His gaze went higher. Smaller bits of stone continued to loosen and fall from the cliff tops, which were no longer smooth and regular but deeply notched for a thousand meters on each side. Explosives were among man and thranxkind's oldest weapons. They still had occasional uses.

Williams had reached the cliff top opposite EerMeesach. Below, ants slaughtered one another among pebbles.

One of the Moulokinese chemists who'd helped him stood nearby. " 'Tis a marvelous thing you have con-jured for us, Wizard Williams."

"I'm not a wizard, and I certainly didn't invent or conjure the powder. We didn't get as much out of the charges as I'd hoped to. If we can find purer nitrates I'm sure we can manufacture a better grade." He was performing calculations as he spoke.

Watching him, the Mcralokinese was at once awed and afraid. The distance between scientists and the sometimes destructive results of their science is often more terrifying to the average being than the inven-tions themselves.

Williams noticed the Tran's expression. To his great horror, he discovered it made him feel good.

It was late afternoon and the temperature was fall-ing with the sun when the Moulokinese fighters chivaned wearily back to the canyon. Blood had frozen in copious quant.i.ties between the two walls, giving the inlet the look of quartz littered with crystals of vanadinite.

" 'Twill require much time and effort to clear our canyon so that ships may travel it again." Landgrave Lady K'ferr looked quite magnificent in battle dress, Ethan thought.

"We shall rebuild the damaged outer wall," said one of her officers from nearby, "higher and stronger than before, with the same stones that have crushed our enemies."

" 'Tis truth. We will have the help of our friends of Sofold." K'ferr gazed fondly at several weapon-laden sailors from the _Slanderscree_ as they returned with prizes from the ma.s.sacre. "I wish only," she continued, looking saddened, "that I could congratulate your Sir Hunnar Redbeard, friend Ethan. Of all who fought, he was bravest."

Ethan stared down the canyon at the stragglers re-turning to the canyon. "He could still be out there, cut-ting down one last Poyo."

"I'm afraid not, feller-me-lad." September had skated over to join them. "I was out on the ocean with him. Saw him go down myself. He didn't get up again."

There was a wail from behind them. Ethan wished the Tran were capable of fainting. Then he wouldn't have had to see the look of anguish September's words had produced in Elfa KurdaghVlata's eyes.

September laid down his heavy, stained axe, pulled his beamer from his waistband and tossed it to Ethan. After inspecting the reading on a certain small gauge, Ethan nodded, handed it back to the giant.

"Mine's dead too, Skua. I don't know about Milliken's, but I think he used it up drilling holes for the charges."

"Well, let's hope we won't need 'em on the way back to Bra.s.s Monkey, feller-me-lad. We'll take Trell's body and the two peaceforcers back with us. Been thinkin' on what we ought to tell the port authorities. No need to get complicated about it. Unfriendly native attack, wandering bandit types." Ethan nodded slowly, eying the three gashes on the left side of the giant's neck. Someone had patched the survival suit with local materials. Since September chose not to mention the wound, Ethan ignored it.

"They'll accept that story because they won't have a choice, lad. Just as they'll accept the artifacts and new interpretation of this world we'll bring 'em. The next Commissioner sent here won't have any ideas about illegal profit skimming, not with a civilization to help organize. But we'll play it safe and tell the padre first anyway."

"Once the Church stirs a theological finger in here, the bureaucracy will monitor its people more tightly," concurred Ethan. "Poor Trell. He created the condi-tions for his own murder."

"Sorry, feller-me-lad. I got no sympathy for him. I've seen this sort of thing happen on too many primi-tive worlds. And he made the old mistake of forgetting that primitive folks can be just as crafty-treacherous as the most jaded technological sophisticate."

"You said the portmaster and others will accept our story because they'll have nothing to compare it with. What if RoVijar managed to get away?" Turning his face away from the blast of ice crystals stream-ing down the canyon, he looked toward the distant frozen sea. "I didn't go looking for his body, but I didn't notice it among the dead."

"a.s.sumin' he ain't lying under one of these rocks, we'll just have to deal with his lies when we get back to Arsudun," said September. "Be our word against his. I'm inclined to think Xenaxis will side with us."

"That's not what worries me, Skua. RoVijar's clevei enough to settle for maintaining the status quo on Arsudun. By telling some story about his last minute alliance with us, for example. Xenaxis may not believe him, but he hasn't got the authority to prosecute a native leader on our word alone."

"I hadn't considered that, lad. Be tough to prove anything if he agrees with us instead of attackin' us.

Let's worry about that on the way back to Bra.s.s Mon-key. We've a long way to go. Maybe we'll get lucky and overtake him."

Far out on the ice ocean, five battered rafts hove to a halt. Thunder, natural this time, sounded to the northwest and the captains of the five rafts knew they would have a difficult time making headway homeward if the storm did not skirt 'round them.

Furthermore, not only were their crews depleted, but of those who remained many were wounded too badly to work the sails.

A small group of sailors and officers had gathered on the stern of one raft. A single figure stood in the center of the circle they formed.

"You cannot put me off here," the Landgrave of Arsudun insisted, frightened for the first time since they'd escaped Moulokin. He looked over the side, at the ice now lit an eerie blue-white by the twin moons of Tran-ky-ky. "Not without food and weapons."

"We have carried you far enough, RoVijar of Arsudun." Rakossa fingered the fresh scar running down his sword arm. "Mayhap you can make it back to Moulokin and your offworld friends."

"They are not my friends! You know that." Fear lent force to RoVijar's protests. "Did I not help kill three of them with you, among whom was one partly my friend?"

"Ah. Then you may throw yourself on the mercy of the compa.s.sionate people of Moulokin." There were unfriendly laughs from the circle of sailors, few of whom wore no bandages. One of them jabbed vi-ciously at RoVijar, his spearpoint piercing the Land-grave's vest and starting a trickle of blood.

RoVijar clutched at the puncture. Looking now like a terrified cub instead of the leader of a powerful is-land state, he scrambled over the railing and onto the single pikapina boarding ladder there.

"I beseech you, Rakossa, do not do this thing to one who befriended you! I ask mercy."

"We _are_ being merciful," said Rakossa nastily, "by not killing you slowly this moment." He spat at the dangling RoVijar. "Because of you we have lost most of our fleet, all of our best fighting men and women. When we return home, we will be pressed because of this disaster merely to retain our rightful throne.

"But worst of all, _worst of all_, that woman is safe!" He was quivering with rage, his fur bristling from ears to feet. "Safe among offworlders, whose 'irresist-ible' weapon you had us put our trust in."

"Who could foresee the magic they would use to bury us beneath the canyon tops?"

"We tire of your excuses, Landgravenomore." Several sailors moved threateningly toward the rail.

RoVijar hurriedly slid down the ladder. As it was drawn back aboard he stood shaking on the ice, staring up at the equally cold faces lining the railing.

"You cannot leave me thus, you cannot! Give me a weapon. A spear- even a knife!"

"You fought well with words, RoVijar of Arsudun. Do battle with them now."

"Offspring of a k'nith!" wailed RoVijar. "Your mother mated with a root! I will follow you all the way to Poyolavomaar and thence travel on to Arsudun, where I will mount a fleet to raze your unspeakable city! You will die a death more horrible than you can imagine!"

Rakossa made a gesture of disgust. "There is no death we cannot imagine." He turned to the squire standing next to him. "We would not inflict this vexsome babble upon the creatures of the ocean." He put a paw on the squire's lance. "Best to kill him now and spare the roamers of the ice." He tugged. The squire did not let go of the lance.

Rakossa regarded the wounded soldier with a stare of disbelief. "We will gift you with another spear, subofficer, unless you wish to kill the thing on the ice your-self." When the squire did not reply, Rakossa tugged again, harder. Still the Tran didn't let loose of his weapon.

"You wish to join him?" Rakossa's voice was touched with incredulity. "Give us your lance, squire, or we will?"

"You will do nothing," a tight voice said. Rakossa spun, confronting the speaker of the unbelievable words. Surely he recognized the young officer. It was one who had not cheered as loudly as others when Rakossa had first announced their intention to pursue the escaped offworlders from Poyolavomaar. And had he not seen this one in council since that time- ?

"I hight T'hosjer, son of T'hos of Four Winds, of a line who have served Poyolavomaar many genera-tions." The moonlight gave his youthful features a sin-ister cast, shone on the slim sword the officer held to the Landgrave's chest.

"Be that so, T'hosjer, you are an officer no longer." His voice rose. "You are not even a squire; you are nothing!" He reached up a paw to shove the point of the sword aside. T'hosjer leaned forward, penetrating the other's chest just above the sternum. Rakossa froze.

Looking around the circle he saw the fixed expres-sions on the faces of sailors and officers, wounded and spared. No one spoke.

"What is this? Have you all gone mad?"

"No, Rakossa of Poyolavomaar. We have gone sane." T'hosjer gestured with his free paw toward the slight, silhouetted figure of RoVijar down on the ice. "You blame all that has happened on that one. 'Tis not his fault. We of Poyolavomaar always prided our-selves on making trade or war on our own, without the help or interference of others.

"You have sought the aid of those who are not even Tran, have taken the advice of one not of the Seven Peaks. Because of that my brother T'sunjer and many friends of my cubhood lie dead on the step of a strange city that meant us no harm, their hearts pierced by arrow or sword, their bodies broken by rocks."

"You fought as fiercely as any other," said Roka.s.sa accusingly.

"I fought for the city of the Seven Peaks, for Poyolavomaar my home and for my friends and com-panions. I fought because the alternative was to run. An officer of Poyolavomaar does not run and leave his friends to fight and die without him. There will linger on us no disgrace from this defeat, for we fought blind." A mutter of agreement came from the surrounding soldiers.

"We were blinded by your words and the position you inherited. We partook of your madness. This, and not the defeat in battle, is the shame we will carry with us to our own pa.s.sing. It has been long said that you were mad, Rakossa of Poyolavomaar. Those who dis-agreed or argued too strongly with you disappeared too often these years past."

"We are your Landgrave," said Rakossa angrily. "We stand before you as rightful ruler and liege!"

"You are no longer ruler or liege. From this point," and he mimicked Rakossa's own words of a moment ago, "you are nothing."

Rakossa studied the circle of glowering soldiers, male and female. "A thousand metal _pled_ to the sol-dier who kills this traitor!" No one moved. "Two thousand!" Then, "I will mate and make my cornier the woman who kills this one!"

That produced the first sounds from the group- mewling laughs from several of the female soldiers.

One said, "To live the life of horror you visited upon your concubine Teeliam Hoh? I believed not the rumors that came of what you did to her. Now I think they mayhap were understated."

Rakossa still could not comprehend what was hap-pening. "Officers, prepare to set sail.

Soldier-sailors, to your posts."

"Over the side." T'hosjer jabbed a little harder with his sword. Blood trickled faster through gray fur.

"Join your ally and friend."

Dazed, Rakossa crawled over the railing. "We will follow. We will see all of you spitted over hot fires in the kitchens. We will have your mates and cubs disemboweled before you!"

T'hosjer leaned over the side of the raft, made certain the no-longer Landgrave of Poyolavornaar dropped to the ice. Then he turned, exhausted, to the mate who had become captain of the raft and spoke a single word.

"Home."

As members of the circle moved to their posts and signals were exchanged with the four remaining rafts, T'hosjer slid his sword back into the scabbard tied to his right leg.

"What of Moulokin?" asked one of the sailors. "Will they not come seeking revenge?"

"When we have regained some of our pride, we will come back to the canyon of the shipbuilders and make peace with them, as should have been done long ago. There will be changes in the way Poyolavomaar re-lates to its neighbors."

As the pitiful remnant of the once grand fleet began to gather wind and move northeastward. T'hosjer moved to the stern. Two figures were receding behind them, dark blots against the ice.

"What see you, T'hosjer captain?" It was the one of the female fighters who'd laughed at Rakossa's bizarre, desperation proposal.

"I expect they started the moment we prepared to leave," he told her. He squinted into the moonlit dis-tance. "I believe RoVijar of Arsudun is on top, but it is becoming hard to tell." He grunted, turned away as the two flailing figures became merely another blur on the blue-white ocean.

In the canyon of Moulokin several shapes moved against the wind and cold. Scattered among the boul-ders and the dead, they gathered the personal effects of the soldiers of Moulokin and the weapons and ar-mor of the enemy not already scavenged by the victorious soldiery.

One figure did not move. She sat on a wooden beam splintered from some shattered raft and stared out to-ward where black cliffs gave way to shining ice sea. Since the sun had dropped behind the west rim of the canyon she had been singing in a high, keening wail that was part growl, part rhyme, part something no human could put a definition to.

A voice sounding tired and a touch irritated called to her from among a cl.u.s.ter of stones which had been torn loose from the outer wall by the offworlder energy weapon.

"With all due respect, my lady Elfa, I implore you to have mercy on a wounded soldier and cease that awful caterwauling."

Her head came around sharply, eyes strove to pierce the night.