There was now about him a confident elation more terrible even than his cruelty – the elation of the thief who realizes that there is none in the house but a helpless woman, whom he can therefore rape as well as rob: of the murderer watching as his over-trusting companion is led away to face the charge which, thanks to his supposed friend's cunning, he cannot now disprove. He had indeed the devil's own luck but, as he well knew, luck comes to the sharp man – to the man of ability and style. The craft lay ready to his hand, the morning was windless, the water smooth. Lalloc's money was secure in his belt and chained to his wrist was a hostage worth more than the proceeds of ten slaving expeditions. At his feet, helpless but happily not senseless, lay the man who had once refused him a Beklan trading licence.
With the speed and dexterity of long use, Genshed loosed both Kelderek and Radu and, extending their chains with another which he passed through their pierced ears, secured them to a tree. Kelderek crouched, staring at the water and giving no sign that he knew what was being done. Then the slave-dealer, snapping his fingers for the last time, led the children along the path to his left and down to the upstream extremity of the inlet.
The canoe lay against the bank, moored to a heavy stone with a hole through it – the kind often used by fishermen as an anchor. Genshed, stooping down, put aboard first his pack and after that two paddles lying close by on the shore. Finally, he passed a chain through the anchor-stone and back to the wrist of the nearest child. His preparations now complete, he left the children and returned quickly up the slope.
At the moment when he reached Radu and Kelderek, Shouter came bursting out of the undergrowth. Looking wildly round, he ran up the path to where Genshed was standing, knife in hand.
'The Ikats, Genshed, the Ikats! Spread out in a line they are, coming through the wood! 'Must have started looking for us soon as it got light!' 'How soon will they be here?' asked Genshed coolly.
'Taking their time, searching the whole mucking place, beating the bushes; but they'll be here soon enough, don't worry!'
Genshed made no reply but, turning back to Kelderek and Radu, released them, at the same time unslinging the fire-pot, which he still carried in one hand, and blowing its smouldering sticks and moss to a glow. Into this he thrust the point of his knife.
'Now, Radu,' he said, 'listen to me. First you're going to put this knife into Mister Crendrik's eyes – both of them. If you don't, I'll do the same for you, understand? After that, you'll go down mere with me, unfasten the mooring-rope and then pitch that stone into the water. That'll take care of the stock we've got to leave behind. After that you and me, and perhaps Shouter, if I don't change my mind, can make a start. Time's short, so hurry up.'
Gripping Kelderek's shoulder, he forced him to his knees at Radu's feet, Radu, still gagged with the rope, dropped the knife which Genshed thrust into his hand. It stuck in the ground, sending up a wisp of smoke from some transfixed and smouldering fragment. Genshed, having retrieved and again heated it, once more gave it to Radu, at the same time twisting his left arm behind his back, pulling out his gag and tossing it down into the water below.
'For God's sake!' cried Shouter desperately, 'I tell you there's no time for this kind of sport, Genshed! Can't you wait for a bit of fun till we get back to Terekenalt? The Ikats, the mucking Ikats are coming! Kill the bastard if you're going to, only let's get onl'
'Kill the mucking lot!' whispered Genshed ecstatically. 'Come on, Radu, do it. Do it, Radu. I'll guide your hand if you want, but you're going to do it.'
As though entranced and bereft of will, Radu had already raised the knife, when suddenly, with a convulsive movement, he twisted himself out of Genshed's grasp. 'No!' he cried. 'Kelderek!'
As though wakened by the cry, Kelderek rose slowly to his feet. His mouth hung open and one hand, the split finger-nail covered with a bulbous, dirty scab, was held before him in a feeble posture of defence. After a moment, looking at Genshed but speaking uncertainly and as though to someone else, he said, 'It must be as God wills, my lord. The matter is greater even than your knife.'
Snatching the knife from Radu, Genshed struck at him, and the blow opened a long gash in his forearm. He uttered no sound, but remained standing where he was.
'Oh, Crendrik,' said Genshed, gripping his wrist and raising the knife again, 'Crendrik of Bekla-'
'My name is not Crendrik, but Kelderek Play-with-the-Children. Let the boy alone.'
Genshed struck him a second time. The point of the knife penetrated between the small bones of the elbow and dragged him once more to his knees, beating ineffectually at Genshed as he fell. At the same moment Shouter, with a cry, pointed back along the verge.
Half-way between the children chained to the stone and the higher point where Genshed stood above the centre of the inlet, the undergrowth parted and a great branch fell forward across the path, overbalanced and slid slowly into the water. A moment afterwards the gap, open still wider, disclosed the body of some enormous, shaggy creature. Then Shardik was standing on the bank, peering up at the four human beings above him.
Ah, Lord Shardik: supreme, divine, sent by God out of fire and water: Lord Shardik of the Ledges! Thou who didst wake among the trepsis in the woods of Ortelga, to fall prey to the greed and evil in the heart of Man! Shardik the victor, the prisoner of Bekla, lord of the bloody wounds: thou who didst cross the plain, who didst come alive from the Streel, Lord Shardik of forest and mountain, Shardik of the Telthearna! Hast thou, too, suffered unto death, like a child helpless in the hands of cruel men, and will death not come? Lord Shardik, save us! By thy fiery and putrescent wounds, by thy swimming of the deep river, by thy drugged trance and savage victory, by thy long imprisonment and weary journey in vain, by thy misery, pain and loss and the bitterness of thy sacred death; save thy children, who fear and know thee not! By fern and rock and river, by the beauty of the kynat and the wisdom of the Ledges, O hear us, defiled and lost, we who wasted thy life and call upon thee! Let us the, Lord Shardik, let us die with dice, only save diy children from this wicked man I
That the bear was close to death was plain enough. Its huge frame, deformed and lank with privation, was nothing but staring bones and mangy fur. One claw hung split and broken, and this evidently formed part of some larger wound in the foot, for the paw was held awkwardly and lifted from the ground. The dry muzzle and lips were cracked and the face misshapen, suggesting a kind of melting or disintegration of the features. The gigantic frame, from which the life was so clearly ebbing, was like a ruined aviary from which the bright birds have flown, those few that remain serving only to heighten the sense of loss and grief in the hearts of those that sec them.
The bear appeared to have been startled by some alarm in the forest behind it; for after turning its head this way and that, it limped along the verge of the pool, as though to continue what had evidently been a flight from intruders. As it approached the children they cowered away, wailing in terror, and at this it stopped, turned back, passed the spot where it had emerged and took a few hesitant, prowling steps up the slope. Shouter, frenzied with fear, began tearing at the thick creepers and thorns beside him, failed to force his way in and fell to the ground.
'Bloody thing!' said Genshed between his teeth. 'It's half-dead already, that is. Go on!' he shouted, waving his arms as though driving cattie. 'Go on! Get out of it!' He took a step forward, but at this the bear snarled and rose falteringly on its hind legs. Genshed fell back.
'Why don't we run?' moaned Shouter. 'Get us out of here, Genshed, for God's sake!'
'What, for that thing?' said Genshed. 'And leave the boat and any chance we've got? We'd run straight into the Ikats. We're not going to be buggered up by that bloody thing, not at this time of day. 1 tell you, it's half-dead now. We just got to kill it, that's all.'
His bow still lay where he had put it down after shooting at the kynat and, picking it up, he drew an arrow from his belt. Kelderek, still on his knees, his arm streaming blood, caught him by the ankle.
'Don't!' he gasped. 'It'll charge – it'll tear us all to pieces, believe me!'
Genshed struck him in the face and he fell on his side. At this moment there was a distant sound of voices in the forest – a man called an order and another answered.
'Don't be afraid,' said Genshed. 'Don't worry, my lad, I'll have three arrows in him before he can even think of charging. I know a trick or two, I'll tell you. He won't try to charge me.'
Without taking his eyes from the bear, he groped backwards and ripped a long strip from Radu's rags. This he quickly knotted round the shaft of the heavy arrow a little above the head, leaving the two ends hanging like those of a garland or a ribbon in a girl's hair.
At the sound of the voices the bear had dropped on all fours. For a few moments it ramped from side to side, but then, as though from weakness, ceased and once more stood still, facing the slave-trader on the path. 'Shouter,' said Genshed, 'blow up that fire-pot.'
