But they held their ground, and Billin faltered in his advance. This time it was Wix who recovered the momentum. "You've had fair warning," he snarled, and shoved his torch into Noyock's belly.
The pain of the blow drove the breath out of Noyock — and when Wix pulled the torch away, Noyock's shirt was on fire. He tried vainly to brush it off, but it spread quickly, and he screamed and fell to the floor, trying to smother the fire. Aven still blocked the door, and he was using his feet to try to keep Billin and Wix at bay.
"An ax!" someone shouted, and sure enough one of the uncles was brandishing a bronzeheaded ax. He was swinging it in a circle over his head, causing as much danger for his own side as for Dilna and the others defending the stair, and Dilna ducked under the blade and jammed the tip of her torch upward against the man's chin. He dropped the ax — it clattered on the floor next to Hoom. Hoom picked it up and swung it savagely at the door, right at Aven's head.
This time Aven ducked, just in time, and the axhead was buried in the door, splintering it. Aven tried to strike at Hoom while he pulled it free, but Billin was too quick, forcing him back.
With a roar the men on the stairs tried to rush past, just as the door gave way on the ax's second blow. Dilna and the others couldn't stop them — but the work was nearly done. Wix and Billin threw their torches into the room — Wix's sputtered on the floor, but Billin's landed on a shelf, instantly igniting the papers there. Then the stair landing was a melee, as Wix, Billin, and Hoom struggled to keep the older men from entering the room and putting out the fire.
Aven bellowed and charged his son, throwing him aside as he entered the smoky library. As he passed, Hoom brought down the axhandle on his father's head, sending him sprawling. At that moment, Wix shouted, "Let's get the hell out of here!" and began slugging his way to the stair.
The others tried to follow. One of them was unconscious on the floor. Dilna, who had been swept to a far corner by the rush on the stairs, tried to rouse him, but he didn't budge, and she got up to run for the stairs. As she did, the library erupted in a sudden roar, and for a horrible moment flames lashed out the door and threatened to start the whole landing on fire. Then they subsided a little, but flames danced now on the banisters, and as Dilna forced her way toward the stairs, she saw an inert body in the library, covered with flames, the feet already charring. She screamed, caught hold of Hoom, who was fighting his way down the stairs, and shouted in his ear, "Your father! Your father!"
The look on her face told him the story, and he, too, screamed, rushing back up the stairs. "Father!" he shouted, a throat–ripping cry. "Father!" But the flames forced him back. Several of the men on the stairs saw what was happening — there were three men unconscious on the landing. They struggled back up against the heat, pulled them out and down the stairs. But Hoom still stood there, tears streaming down his face, seemingly oblivious to the heat, screaming, "Father! Father!" When they finally dragged him down his face was black with smoke, and the front of his clothing was charred. Dilna, who was being held at the bottom of the stairs, saw his smoking clothing and blackened face, and fainted.
They gathered in Firstfield on Jason's Day, but this time there was no chatter or pleased expectation. Those who had borne torches that night were each surrounded by men, and their hands were bound, except Hoom, who was still so badly injured that a makeshift bed was provided for him. The other refugees from Stipock's Bay kept to themselves. They were unguarded, but they had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Jason was coming; and suddenly even those who had scoffed at him were afraid of his coming.
The sun was hidden from them by the shaft of the starship, the space opened in the side and the line descended. Dilna remembered four years ago, when she was only barely thirteen, coming with her mother to see Jason come. He had brought the hundred eleventh Ice Person with him. Stipock. And bitterly Dilna wished he had never come.
Jason's feet touched the ground, and he stood and walked to Noyock, who waited for him. Jason held out his arms to embrace the Warden, but Noyock only covered his face with his hands and wept.
Jason stopped directly in front of Noyock, his blue eyes staring at him. They stood like that, it seemed, for hours, though when Jason broke the pose and enfolded Noyock in his arms, the sun was still not out from behind the tower. The people watched, and the realization spread as a murmur among them. "Jason is crying too," they whispered.
"He knows," came the answer, "he already knows, without even a word spoken."
Jason whispered something in Noyock's ear,
and then stepped away. Noyock turned to look after him, no longer sobbing, though his cheeks were smeared with tears. Jason strode toward the waiting crowd. "Where is Aven?" he called out.
There was no answer, only a rustle of whispers in the crowd.
"Who has hidden Aven from me!"
And then some answers came. "Hoom killed him!" someone said. "He died in a fire," said another. But the answer that caught on, that many called out, was the one that fixed the blame on Hoom.
Jason walked to where Hoom lay, swathed in bandages on the makeshift bed.
"Did you kill Aven, Hoom?" Jason asked, loudly.
Hoom closed his eyes and answered, clearly. "Yes."
Jason knelt beside him, and many, unable to see, stood or crowded toward the front, to see what Jason would do. But Jason only touched the bandages on Hoom's forehead, and looked deeply into him, as if he could see into his mind. Dilna got up from her guards, and came to Jason. "It isn't true," she said. "Hoom didn't mean to kill his father. He was only trying to burn the History."
Jason stood, and looked around at the crowd. "Burn the History. And why did Hoom want to burn the History?"
Again silence. But now Wix leaped to his feet, and cried out in fury, "They burned our ships, that's why! They're all quick enough to tell you Hoom killed his father, but they're not so fast to tell you they burned our boats! Kept us from our City on the other side of the river! All our fields are rotten, our harvest is wasted, all because they burned our boats!"
Jason nodded, and Wix fell silent, sat down. "Burned the boats," Jason said. "And why did they burn the boats?"
The answers came quickly then. "They wanted to split the City! They wouldn't obey the Warden! They said they'd make their own laws! They didn't obey the majority!"
Jason raised his hands, and silence fell again. He raised his voice and said, "They wouldn't follow the majority. They wouldn't obey the Warden. And for this you kept them from tending their fields and their flocks. For this you kept Hoom from getting a crop from his trees."
A gasp came from many in the crowd, for no one could have told Jason about Hoom's trees. He already knew everything.
"And why wouldn't they let the Warden rule them?"
The answers were shouted back at him, but again and again the shouts included one name. Stipock.
"Stipock!" Jason shouted. "Stipock!"
And Stipock walked out of the crowd, made his way to the front, and stood to face Jason squarely. "Stipock," Jason said. "It all seems to come back to you."
"I never meant," Stipock said. "I never set out to have it end as it did."
"What did you mean, then?"
"I just wanted to give them democracy."
Jason smiled grimly. "Well, you didn't. You gave them anarchy."
Stipock's face was sculptured deeply with regret. "Do you think I don't know?"