But the old head rose as Hocking drew nearer. "What is it?" demanded Ortu. "What do you want? I have not summoned _you."
"I saw the naga return. What news did they bring?"
There was an edge to his underling's voice that Ortu had not heard before. He glared back at Hocking and said, "I will tell you when I choose."
"You will tell me now," said Hocking evenly.
The great yellow eyes flared open and focused intently on the object before them. "You dare to question me?"
"I am tired of playing the obedient servant, Ortu. From now on we will act as equals-"
"Equals! Never!"
"As equals, Ortu. I have suffered your caprices long enough. For years I have waited in your shadow, but no more."
"Get out of here, you fool. Remove yourself from my sight. You are drunk on your own dreams of power. I alone say what will be and when." The kastak flared and subsided into a steady purple glow.
"Not any more, Ortu. I have dreams of power, yes, and ambitions of my own that you know nothing about. Some of then I have already begun to put into action, while you sit by and do nothing."
"Oh? What are these puny plans, wise one?"
"Tell me what happened-what did the naga find?" "They escaped."
"How? What happened?"
"What difference does it make? They escaped…" "And the Guardian?"
It "And the Guardian with them. They are on the way here now." "Then we must be ready for them when they arrive."
Ortu sank back into himself. "Do what you will, we are no match for a Guardian… I am too old."
"Ortu!" cried Hocking. "Listen to me! I need you! If we are to crush them I need your power!"
The Martian withdrew further into his normal trancelike state. "You cannot defeat them… it is too late. We have failed…"
"No!" screamed Hocking. The pneumochair swung closer to the rigid figure before him. Ortu did not move. Hocking glanced at the lowered head of his master and saw the circlet, the kastak, now throbbing irregularly. His own thin hand, shaking slightly, reached out toward it. In an instant the source of Ortu's power was in his grasp.
Ortu's eyes snapped open. "What?" he gasped. A startled expression appeared on his face.
"Give it to me!"
"No!" Ortu drew back his head, but Hocking's skeletal fingers held tight. He felt Ortu tugging away and was amazed at how weak his master was. With a quick snap he jerked the circlet and the kastak was his. "With this I am in control!" He held the kastak before Ortu's stricken face. "The power is mine!"
"Give it back" cried Ortu. "You can't know what it means."
"I know enough to save us, if you won't."
"No-1-1 need it.,."
"It is mine now, Ortu."
The alien made a lunge toward Hocking to snatch the band out of his hands. A finger twitched on Hocking's tray and Ortu was flung back against his cushions in a heap.
"I am in control now, Ortu. I say what will be."
Ortu did not move from where he lay; his eyes watched Hocking dully. "Give it back to me," he pleaded. "I will die without it."
"Then (lie!" Hocking backed away from the squirming alien. "You are no longer any use to me, Ortu. I have endured you long enough."
"Ahhh!" Ortu raised a hand and rolled weakly forward as if to prevent Hocking's retreat. But he lacked the strength to rise, and so lay quivering as if chills assailed his frail body.
Hocking left the room and did not look back. Already he was Naming a plan in his mind. He would let them come to him and then destroy them all-except Reston. Reston too would be crushed, but first that stubborn will of his must be broken completely. Before he was finished with him, Reston would beg for death and would die with Hocking's name on his lips.
Hocking's features contorted in a leer of pleasure at the image of Spencer Reston groveling before him, pleading for release. And he would give it, oh, yes, he would give it. …
ON FOOT THE TRAVELERS pushed through sparsely forested hills upward, higher and higher toward Kalitiri. The way was well known and well marked. They could see the mountain itself, serene and majestic, trailing white wisps of clouds from its slopes, standing before them remote and aloof from the world of men.
They climbed through terraced fields of millet and rice, cut in the sides of the hills like the wide stair steps of giants. They passed the hillfolk working the fields with their buffalo or repairing the breaks where rain had carved out gullies in the terraces and washed the soil away. Others, burdened like pack animals, hauled firewood from the forests above the villages. Over all, hung an air of quiet industry which seemed peaceful and good.
The peasants, with their baskets of woven twigs, went about their work pausing only to glance at the three newcomers and their tall companion in silence, or to hail them with a wave and a shout as they passed. Spence, watching the toil around him, began to feel as if he had been there before-some time ago. It was the same sense of deja vu pricked before at various times along the way. He felt he really did recognize the place. But this time the scene carried with it none of the strange panic that used to seize him in his dreams.
Of course. That was it! His dreams!-he had been here in his dreams. Spence stopped and looked around as if he were lost in a place that nevertheless seemed extraordinarily familiar. These hills were the hills he had seen in his dreams, and these were the ragged peasants who labored so hard to pull the stones from the ground and haul them away. It was as if he had stepped back inside his own dream; for a moment the world was frozen and unreal. The feeling passed and everything around him took on its normal appearance. The strange flashback receded, leaving behind only a residue of mild disorientation which he shook off.
"What is it, Shence? Arc you okay?" Adjani was beside him with a look of concern wrinkling his brow.
Spence forced a smile and said, "It's nothing. I seem to think I remembered this place for a moment. It was in one of my dreams."
"And?"
"And nothing-really, it's all right. It just kind of gave me a funny feeling." He laughed. "Maybe somebody's trying to tell me something."
Adjani only nodded and said, "Come on, but let me know if you have any more flashbacks. This may be dangerous territory for you."
Spence had not considered that he might be especially vulnerable the nearer he got to the Dream Thief. The idea made him feel that every step closer to Kalitiri drove another nail into his coffin. It unnerved him, making him feel small and weak.
At last they reached the place where the gorge separated the mountain from the winding mountain pathway. The palace was still some distance away, but could be seen, its dark walls showing between the trees that had grown up high around it.
"There it is," said Gita, pointing. "And here we are." He looked at his friends with an anxious expression. "What are we going to do? There is no bridge."
Gita was right. At the place where the bridge had been, all that remained were two huge posts dangling great fibrous ropes swinging in the winds that raced through the chasm.
"What are we going to do?" echoed Spence. "Is there another bridge?"
Gita shook his head slowly. "No, sahib. It is not likely. These hillpeople use the same pathways for generations. The only time they make new ones is when a landslide carries away an old one. It is certain that this is the only way. That the bridge has fallen away shows what little use the people have for this path. Kalitiri is not a place they care to go."