He had gone up to the old man's office to do murder, if necessary— and found that he couldn't, and that it hadn't been necessary. He knew he could never have pressed the trigger on the old man. Fool old Kiv peGanz had been, but he had been an honest fool—and honesty, while it was not a trait Norvis could claim for himself, was one that he respected.
Norvis pulled up at the turn of the road at the great arch of the Bridge of Klid. There was only one way he could stop Ganz's fleet. The river was over a mile wide at this point.
He guided his mount toward the bridge. At the far end, there would have been Peacemen a few days ago, but now that the cobalt had been recovered, the bridge was free again.
Norvis went to the center of the bridge and waited, hoping that the ships would be visible in the glow of orange spread by the torches on the bridge.
A few deest-mounted men trotted by, paying no attention to the man who stood by his mount and stared downstream toward the south. Pedestrians plodded by, some silent, some talking in low tones. All Gelusar and the country surrounding seemed to be hushed.
One man, obviously more than a little drunk on peych-beer, stopped by the rail of the bridge near Norvis.
"Did you hear? The Elder Grandfather is dead. Not too long ago. The old man was wrong, I guess."
Norvis glanced at him and then looked again downstream. The nightly rain had begun by now, and he felt cold and chilled.
"He said this morning," the drunk continued, "that if he was wrong about Kris peKym, the Great Light would kill him. And now he's dead! Bet he was surprised!"
Norvis turned to him again. "Keep a civil tongue, you souse, or I'll take great pleasure in throwing you into the Tammul with an anchor to keep you company!"
The man blinked. "All right, all right. Sorry." He went on across the bridge.
It was another five minutes before Norvis saw the masts of the Vyothin sliding toward him in the darkness. The ship, he saw, would pass under the bridge fifty yards away. Norvis urged his deest along the bridge.
Without paying any attention to whether or not there was anyone watching, he climbed over the rail and hung by his hands from the bracing beams of the mile-long bridge. Just as the Vyothin's mast passed beneath him, he let go and dropped toward the arm of the main skysail. He grabbed it. The sail was moist from the night rain, and his hands slipped a few inches, but he held on, nearly wrenching his arms out of his shoulder sockets. Then, slowly and painfully, he began to climb down the rigging toward the deck.
The man in the crow's nest had seen him, of course. He sung out: "Who's there? Who was that just dropped?"
"Me," Norvis called weakly. "Norvis peKrin Dmorno. Tell Ganz peDel I'm here."
Several minutes later, he was in Ganz peDel's cabin.
"I'm getting old," Norvis said, smiling a little. "Ten years ago, I could have done that without taking a deep breath."
Young Ganz peDel shook his head. "I'm sure I wouldn't have done it. Kris peKym might have the nerve, though."
Norvis shrugged one shoulder. "No matter. That's not important anyway. The point is, we've got to get Kris out of the Temple—-and I think it's going to be easier than we thought."
"I don't understand how the Grandfather's death changes anything," Ganz peDel said. "All we have to do is get our men inside the Temple, as if we are praying. Then someone can sneak down and—"
"Hold it, son," Norvis said, raising a hand. "You're forgetting something. The Elder Grandfather specifically stated, in public, that if he had erred the Great Light would deal with him. Well, he has."
Ganz nodded. "I get it. The people now are going to realize that Kris must have been right all along. We won't have to sneak; we can attack the Temple openly!"
"Right. Absolutely right. But it also means we'll have to stir up popular support. That's why I had to stop you—if you'd just charged in there, you might have gotten Kris out, but it wouldn't have endeared us to the people. This way, we'll have the people on our side before we make a move."
"Good," said Ganz happily. He stopped pacing the floor of his cabin. "By the way, how is Marja?"
Norvis looked blank. "Why ... I suppose she's all right. She was at the hotel when I left yesterday, and I haven't been by there since." He looked up at Ganz. "Why? Are you worried about your sister?"
"Not really," Ganz said. "She can take care of herself."
"Right enough," said Norvis. He paused and sat up straight. "Wait! What's that?"
Ganz frowned a little. "I don't ... oh, yes—"
From somewhere just ahead of the ship came the sound of a peculiar, angry, buzzing murmur. Both men scrambled up the ladder to the deck.
Norvis reached the deck first and peered out, looking around. At Gelusar, the Tammul River widens into the Gelusar Basin before it narrows again to flow on to Tammulcor and the sea. At that point, the Tammul is nearly two miles across. On the western side of the river, where Gelusar lay, were the docks for the river packets and the other vessels that came up from the south.
The Vyothin, followed by the Paleth and the Garn, had sailed into the Gelusar Basin and moved toward the docks. The Vyothin was less than five hundred yards offshore as Norvis and Ganz came on deck. There were torches blazing on the dock, and a huge crowd was gathered there, screaming and shouting.
"What in the name of—what's going on?" Ganz asked.
"Looks like a gathering of some kind," Norvis said sarcastically. "Maybe a garden party."
"Or a riot?"
"Or a riot," agreed Norvis. "Better move in slowly; we don't want to get caught in anything nasty."
The Vyothin drifted westward toward the docks. Soon, the men on deck could make out what was happening. Norvis could see someone standing on one of the high pillars facing one of the docks, and the crowd was cheering.
"The Vyothin! Hoy! Hoy! And the Paleth! And the Garni Hoy! Hoy!"
And then the figure on the pillar waved its hands, and a familiar voice rang across the water.
"Yes! Here they come, just as I told you! The devil-influenced Elder is dead because the Great Light killed him for condemning Kris peKym to die! And now his friends —your friends—our friends—have come to rescue him from the dungeons!"
"Hoy! Hoy! HOY!"
Ganz turned his head to look at Norvis. "By the Rays of the Light," he said softly. "It's Marja!"
There was little need to stir up popular support for the rescue of Kris peKym Yorgen. The news had spread quickly over Gelusar that the Elder Grandfather was dead, and Marja geDel Vyless, with a woman's eternal faith, had taken advantage of it by telling everyone that it proved Kris' innocence, and that his friends would come to get him out of his dungeon. She had known that Norvis had gone after her brother, and had estimated the time of arrival pretty closely. When the ships pulled, in, she had already organized a full-fledged army, ready to march on the Temple to demand the release of Kris.
Norvis and Ganz were the first men off the ship. The crowd looked ugly, but Marja seemed to have them under control. Her face was positively radiant with fury, love, hatred, and joy—a bower of emotions which seemed to flicker across her face as though they were competing for domination. Norvis hadn't realized a woman could look like that.
She pointed a finger at them. "There they are! I told you they'd come! Are you ready to save the Blessed Kris from a martyr's death? Arc you ready to save him from the minions of the devil-influenced Elder whom the Great Light has struck dead for his unrighteousness?"