been a spaceport, busy with the ships from countless stars.
A line of mountains sprang up ahead, lifting iron peaks into the sky. The ship dropped, losing speed, leveling out. A plateau spread out below the mountains, a natural landing field. Without shock or jar, the starship came to rest.
It seemed to be expected of Banning that he lead the way out onto this, his world. He did so, with Rolf at his side, walking slowly, and again it all seemed a dream. The sky, the chill, fresh wind with strange scents upon it, the soil beneath his feet — they cried their alienage to him and he could not shut his senses.
The officers followed them out, and Captain Behrent looked anxiously at the sky. “None of the others are here yet.'
'They will be soon,” said Rolf. “They have to find their own secret ways to this rendezvous. It takes time.'
He turned to Banning. “From here,” he said in English, “you and I will go on alone.'
Banning looked down. A broad, time-shattered road led into the valley below. There was a lake there, and beside the lake was a city. The forest had grown back where it could, thick clumps of alien trees and mats of unearthly vines and creepers, but the city was vast and stubborn and would not be eclipsed. The great pillars of the gate still showed, and beyond them the avenues and courts and roofless palaces, the mighty arches and the walls, all silent in the red light, beside the still, sad lake.
They went down that road in silence. They left the wind behind them on the high land, and there was no sound but their own footsteps on the broken paving blocks. Antares hung heavy in the sky he thought of as “49 West.” To Banning, used to a small bright sun, it seemed a vast and dim and crushing thing encumbering the heavens.
It was warmer in the valley. He could smell the forest, but the air was clean of any man-made taint. The city was much closer now. Nothing moved in it, nor was there any sound.
Banning said, “I thought you told me there was still some life here.'
'Go on,” Rolf answered. “Through the gate.'
Banning turned to look at him. “You're afraid of something.'
'Maybe.'
'What? Why did we come here alone?” He reached out suddenly and grasped Rolf by his tunic collar, half throttling him. “What are you leading me into?'
Rolf's face turned utterly white. He did not lift a hand, did not stir a muscle in Banning's angry grip. He only said, in a voice that was little louder than a whisper.
'You are sealing my death-warrant. For God's sake, let me go, before the—'
He broke off, his gaze sliding past Banning to something beyond him.
'Be careful, Kyle,” he murmured. “Be careful what you do now, or we're both dead men.'
CHAPTER V
The simple conviction in his voice assured Banning that this was no trick. He relaxed his grip on Rolf, feeling his spine go cold with the knowledge that something stood behind him. Very cautiously, be turned his head.
Rolf said, “Steady on. It's been ten years since they saw you last. Give them time. Above everything, don't run.'
Banning did not run. He stood immobile, frozen, staring.
Creatures had come out through the city gate. They had come very silently while he was occupied with Rolf, and they had thrust out a half circle beyond the two men that made flight impractical. They were not human. They were not animal, either. They were not like anything Banning had ever seen in or out of nightmare. But they looked fast and strong. They looked as though they could kill a man quite easily, without even working up a sweat.
'They're yours,” Rolf whispered. “Guardians and servants and devoted dogs to the Valkars. Speak to them.'
Banning looked at them. They were man-sized but not man-shaped. Bunched, hunched bodies with several legs, spidery and swift and scuttling. There was no hair on them, only a smooth greyish skin that was either naturally patterned or tattooed in brilliant colors and intricate designs. Beautiful, really. Nearly everything — has some beauty, if you look for it—
Nearly everything—
'What shall I say?'
'Remind them that they're yours!'
Small round heads and faces — child faces, with round chins and little noses and great round eyes. What was it looked back at him out of those eyes?
The creatures stirred and lifted their long, thin arms. He glimpsed a glint of cruel talons. One of them stood in front of the others, as a leader stands, and it spoke suddenly in a sweet, shocking whisper.
'Only the Valkar may pass this gate,” it said. “You die.'
And Banning said, “Look closer. Are your memories so short?'
What was it in their eyes? Wisdom? Cruelty? Alien thoughts that no human mind could know?
'Have you forgotten me?” he cried. “In ten short years, have you forgotten the Valkar?'
Silence. The great white monoliths that marked the gate reared up their broken tops, and on them were carvings, half obliterated, of the same spidery warders that guarded them still.
They moved, with a dry swift clicking of their multiple feet, their hands reaching out toward Banning. He knew that those talons could tear him to ribbons with unearthly swiftness. There was no safety in flight or struggle, he must put his life on the gamble. He held out his hands toward them, forcing himself to greet them.
'My spiderlings,” he said.
The one who had spoken before, the leader, voiced a shrill, keening cry. The others picked it tip, until the stone walls of the city threw it back in wailing echoes, and now Banning saw quite clearly what it was that looked at him out of those round child eyes. It was love. And suddenly, that transfiguring emotion made them less hideously alien to his eyes. The leader caught his hand and pressed it against its grey, cool forehead, and the physical contact did not shock him. And this, in its own way, frightened him.
'What is it?” he asked of Rolf in English. Rolf laughed, with relief strong now in his voice.
'Sohmsei used to rock your cradle and ride you on his back. Why would you be afraid of him?'
'No,” said Banning stubbornly. “No, I don't believe that. I can't.'
Rolf stared at him incredulously. “You mean that even now you can doubt — But they know you! Listen, Kyle — millennia ago the Valkars brought the Arraki from the world of a fringing star far out on the Rim. They have loved and served the Valkars ever since. They serve no one else. The fact that you're alive this minute is proof of who you are.'
Sohmsei's gaze slid sidelong, and he whispered to Banning, “I know this one, called Rolf. Is it your will that he live, Lord?'
'It is my will,” said Banning, and a deep doubt assailed him. These creatures, the ease with which be had learned the language, the instinctive knowledge of what to do that came, to him at times from outside his conscious mind, the enigma at Greenville — could it be true? Was he really the Valkar, lord of this city, lord of a ruined empire that once had spanned the stars?
No. A man had to cling to some reality, or he was lost. Neil Banning was real, life as he had known it was real. The Arraki were — unhuman, but not supernatural. They could be fooled, like men, by a resemblance. Rolf had chosen a convincing substitute, that was all.
He said as much, in English, and Rolf shook his head. “Obstinacy was always your biggest fault,” be said. “Ask Sohmsei.” Dropping into his own tongue again, he went on, “This is your homecoming, Kyle. I leave you to it. The others will be arriving soon, and I must be on the plateau to meet them. I'll bring the captains here, when all have come.'
He saluted the Arraki and went away up the broken road. Banning looked after him briefly. Then he forgot him. All his fear was gone and he was eager to see the city.
'Will you go home now, Lord?” asked Sohmsei in a wistful whisper.
