Later, after the cruiser had leaped up into the sky and Teyn was dropping fast behind them, Gordon still held and soothed her. By then, Korkhann had come back to consciousness. His eyes were haunted but he said, with a kind of haggard pride, 'For a moment... for a moment I did it, all alone!'
'Korkhann, who... what... was it?' said Gordon. 'The Gray One.'
'I think,' whispered Korkhann, 'that it was not of this universe. I think an ancient evil has awakened. I...'
He bent his head, and for a moment would say no more. Then he said somberly, 'If Narath Teyn has allies such as that, he is far more dangerous than we thought, Highness.'
'I know that now,' said Lianna. 'We'll hold council of war when we reach Fomalhaut. And I think that on our decision, my kingdom will stand or fall.'
7
Outside, in the light of the flying moons, the old kings of Fomalhaut stood and dreamed in stone. All the way from the far-flung lights of the city up to this massive palace the great avenue of statues ran, eleven dynasties and more than one hundred kings, all towering up much larger than life so that the envoys who came this way would feel a sense of awe. No one came at this hour, all was silent, but in the changing light of the racing moons, the stone faces seemed to change, to smile, to glare, to brood.
In the vast darkness of the throne hall, looking out at that mighty avenue, John Gordon felt small and insignificant. From the shadowed walls other pictured faces looked down at him, the faces of further great ones in the long history of Fomalhaut Kingdom, and it seemed to him that that there was contempt in their glance.
Man of Earth, man of the old twentieth century that is now two hundred thousand years ago... what do you here out of your own place and time?
What indeed? And again that question came to plague him... reality or dream? With the question came fear, and the overwhelming desire to run for the security of Keogh's office and the calm voice explaining away all his problems. He felt a passionate homesickness for the old drab familiar world in which he had spent most of his life, and a terrifying sense of alienation took him by the throat.
He fought it, as he had had to fight it before. Sweat was on his forehead and his whole body trembled. At the same time he could jeer at himself savagely. All the while you were in that nice familiar world, you did nothing but whine and cry to get back here.
He was not aware that Korkhann had come into the hall, and started violently at the sound of his voice.
'It is strange, Gordon, that you tremble now, when there is no danger... at least for the present.'
Korkhann was so vague in the shadows that he might have been human. Then his feathers rustled and his beaked face and wise eyes pushed forward into a bar of the shifting moonlight. It was hard to be angry with Korkhann, but Gordon managed it.
'I've asked you before not to read my mind.'
'You do not yet understand telepathic powers,' Korkhann said mildly. 'I have not violated your mental privacy. But I cannot help receiving your emotions.' After a moment he added, 'I am to bring you to the council. Lianna sent me.'
The black mood was still on Gordon, and Lianna's name brought a fresh surge of anger. 'What does Lianna need of me?' After that moment of closeness, when she had been a frightened girl he could hold in his arms, she had become again the princess, remote, aloof, beautiful, and very busy with affairs of state. She seemed, in fact, to be deliberately avoiding him, as though she were ashamed of that lapse and did not wish to be reminded of it. And after all, damn it, he was still the stranger, still the primitive lout.
'In some ways,' said Korkhann, this time shamelessly reading his thoughts, 'you are. Lianna is a woman but she is also a reigning princess, and you must remember that your relationship is as difficult for her as it is for you.'
'Oh, hell,' said Gordon. 'Now I get advice to the lovelorn from a... a...'
'From an overgrown mynah bird?' said Korkhann. 'I assume that is some creature of your own world. Well. The advice is still good.'
'I'm sorry,' said Gordon, and meant it. He was behaving like a petty child. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. 'It's just that every once in a while...'
'You feel lost. This is natural. You have chosen a very strange road, John Gordon. It will never be an easy one. But you knew that. Now... will you come?'
'Yes,' said Gordon. 'I'll come.'
They left the vast echoing hall and went along spacious corridors. It was late and there were few people about, but Gordon had a feeling that there was tension in the silence that enwrapped the palace, a brooding sense of danger. He knew that that was in his own mind, the danger was not here, not yet. It was still in the Marches of Outer Space, the far frontier of the galaxy. Yet the fact that the council of Fomalhaut Kingdom was meeting this late at night, only hours after the cruiser had landed on the throne-world, was evidence enough of how gravely that danger was regarded.
In the small paneled room they came to, four faces looked up at Gordon with expressions between irritation and hostility. Korkhann was the only nonhuman member of the council, and Lianna, at the head of the little table, nodded to Gordon and spoke the names of the four men.
'Is this necessary?' asked the youngest of them, a middle-aged man with burly brows. He added bluntly, 'We've heard of your attachment to this Earthman, Highness, but I fail to see why...'
'I'm afraid,' said Gordon pleasantly, 'that I also fail to see why. Nevertheless, I was sent for.'
Lianna said quickly, 'It is necessary, Abro. Sit down, John Gordon.'
He sat down at the far end of the table and bristled inwardly until Korkhann whispered, 'Must you be so fighting?' That startled Gordon into a brief smile, and he relaxed a little.
The man called Abro spoke, ignoring Gordon in a way that was a studied insult.
'It stands thus. The attempt that Narath Teyn made against you, his daring to use force against the sovereign of Fomalhaut, shows that he's dangerous. I say, hit him. Send a squadron of heavy cruisers to Teyn to teach him and his Gerrns a lesson.'
Inwardly, Gordon rather agreed. Anyone who would call in an ally like the Gray One deserved destruction. But Lianna shook her pale-golden head slowly.
'My cousin Narath is not the danger. He has long conspired to replace me, but with only his wild, barbaric nonhumans to call on he could do nothing. But now, he is simply being used as a pawn by others... among them, Cyn Cryver, a count of the Marches of Outer Space.'
'Hit the Marches, then,' said Abro harshly. Gordon began to like this blunt, tough character who had given him such a hostile greeting. But Korkhann spoke, in his hesitant, whistling voice.
'There is something hidden here, some veiled, unknown forces working behind Cyn Cryver and Narath Teyn. One such was at Teyn and would have destroyed us if the Gerrn had not changed sides. Who or what the creature was we could not tell, but it is powerful beyond belief... and is the true leader. Cyn Cryver is also a pawn.'
'Use force against Cyn Cryver and we'll find out who or what is behind him,' said one of the other councilors. 'Abro is right.'
'I think you are forgetting something,' said Lianna. 'The counts are allies of the Empire.'
'So are we,' said Abro, 'and better and more dependable allies!'
Lianna nodded. 'I agree. But all the same, we can't go into the Marches without first taking the matter up with Throon.'
They didn't like it, Gordon saw that. Like most of the citizens of the smaller star-kingdoms they had an inordinate amount of pride, and asking anyone's permission went against their grain. But all the same, the Empire was the Empire, the greatest single power in the galaxy, ruling an inconceivable vastness of suns and worlds and people from the imperial world that circled the mighty sun Canopus. Like it or not, they would ask.
Lianna succeeded in silencing them for the moment. She added, 'I'm sending Korkhann to discuss it with them. John Gordon will go with him.'
Gordon's heart gave a great beat of excitement. To Throon! He would see it again...
An angry protest had already formed on Abro's lips, but it was Hastus Nor, oldest of the councilors, who
