Kris nodded. "Good. I'll see you then."
Kris peKym Yorgen, Executive Officer of Nidor, stood upon the balcony of the Great Temple and faced the throngs of people in the Square of Holy Light.
The investiture ceremony was over; a long triumphal procession through the streets had preceded it, with the people cheering on every side. And all the way up from the smaller temple, Kris' name had been shouted.
The procession itself had been colorful. Half of the Hundred men were in the lead, their red-and-black uniforms worn proudly; the other half brought up the rear. Between them, mounted on brightly caparisoned deests, had come the new Council of Elders, with their blue-and-gold robes and their bronze coronets gleaming in the filtered light. And then, surrounded by yellow-robed acolytes, had come Kris peKym Yorgen, the Great Exorciser and Executive Officer of Nidor.
The wind had added its own touch, whipping the robes around, making them flutter brightly beneath the effulgence of the Great Light.
All this was a bright memory in Kris' mind as he stood on the balcony of the gutted Great Temple and looked at the cheering throng below. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elder Grandfather Marn peFulda Brajjyd stand and raise his crossed arms in a general blessing. The crowd became quiet.
The Grandfather looked at the sky. "O Holy Light, we have, this midday, offered our sacrifice in Your name, and now, we ask Your blessing on Your people and on Your Priesthood.
"Led by those who had fallen under the influence of the accursed Earthmen, we have erred in Your sight. But now we have been illumined by Your light, and we seek to repair the damage that has been done and atone for the injury we have done You. We pray for Your blessing upon us."
He lowered his arms and looked out over the Square of Holy Light. "We, the Elders of Nidor, in Council assembled, have come this day to invest in a great man the powers of a special Office. All of you know what has happened—"
The Grandfather continued his introduction for several minutes, but Kris' attention drifted away. He thought of what he was going to tell the people. What he said today would not only be spread all over Nidor, but would ring through history for all eternity. It had to be just right. It had to be perfect.
So intent was he on his own thoughts that he barely noticed when the Elder Leader put the bronze chain around his neck—the chain carrying a specially struck medal signifying his office. He scarcely noticed as the other Elders gave him their blessing. Only when the Elder Leader said, "... and now your Executive Officer will speak; I charge you to pay strict attention to what he has to say," did Kris return fully to his surroundings.
He stepped forward to the rail of the balcony and raised his hand to still the shouting and applause.
When the crowd finally grew quiet, he said, "Bless you for your righteousness, my friends. The Great Light has granted us His illumination, and the—"
He got no further. He saw what had happened only a fraction of a second before he felt it.
Across the Square, from a window of one of the buildings, had come a puff of smoke, which the wind had quickly whipped away. Then had come the sound of a loud cough.
And then had come a painless shock, as though someone had hit him hard in the chest with a pillow. Kris fell back, more with surprise than anything else, looking down at the tattered hole in his vest and the blood that seeped out of it.
There was confusion all around him, but still he didn't pay any attention. Someone grasped him by the shoulders and eased him to the floor of the balcony. Someone shouted for a surgeon and a physician. From somewhere came the crack of rifles. But to all these, Kris paid no attention.
He put his hand up to his chest, and someone pulled it away.
"Is he dead?" asked a voice behind him.
"No," said another. "He's badly hurt, but it didn't strike his heart."
"We must get a doctor—quickly!" said a third.
And then sight and sound and feeling dissolved into the darkening blur of unconsciousness.
Chapter XXIII
Norvis peRahn Brajjyd wanted to snarl and curse, but he hardly dared breathe. The wind-whipped night rain had made his body-hair cling soggily to his body, his clothes were dripping with water, and the rocks were so slippery that it seemed almost impossible to climb them— especially with the wind sweeping down the mountains, tugging at his clothing and splashing rain in his eyes.
Still he pushed on; he didn't want to be caught on the mountain when firstlight came. He had waited at the foot of the towering pile of bare rock until nightfall. His mother had climbed it successfully at night, and that was the way he was going to do it.
He knew he was in the right place; it was the only place that looked as though it might be a gap in the mountains through which one could reach Vashcor.
At last he reached the top, and was overjoyed to see the oddly-shaped rock his mother had described to him. Now he knew beyond doubt that he was in the right place.
He edged his way up to the rock and peeped over.
And a vast disappointment washed over him, hardly diluted at all by the faint sense of relief he felt.
There was nothing there at all. There was nothing but the broad, flat area that Dran peDran had described. The dim glow of the Lesser Light didn't show much detail, but it was obvious that there had been buildings of some kind here once —the flat plain itself was artificially leveled.
But it was empty. Nothing moved on it, nothing but the little rivulets of water that skittered across its surface ahead of the driving wind.
The Earthmen were really gone, then. Somehow, it didn't seem right. There seemed to be something left unexplained.
"Welcome, Norvis peRahn Brajjyd," said a soft baritone behind him. "I thought you'd never get here."
Norvis turned slowly. The only surprise he felt was in the fact that he was not surprised at all. He knew who it was, and it seemed right somehow.
"Hoy, Smith," he said. He drew his gun and aimed it at the Earthman's midsection. "Wet out, isn't it?"
Smith, standing tall and solid a few feet away, pretended not to notice the gun. "Wet? Yes; I've always hated Nidorian weather. But then, I doubt if you'd like Earth. Direct light from the sun wouldn't be too good for your skin."
Norvis looked at the man he had hated for so long, and felt an almost overwhelming desire to press the trigger. But he stayed his hand. He needed information first.
"What are you, Smith?" It was a short, hard question.
"You, tell me," the Earthmen replied.
"You're mortal, I'm sure of that. You may have long life, but if I shot you, you'd die like anyone else."
The Earthman smiled a little. "Right. And where do we come from? The Outer Darkness?"
"Something like it," said Norvis. "Without the mystical rot. My guess is this: according to Scripture, a cataclysm thousands of years ago all but wiped out life here. If you read between the mysticism, you'll see that what happened was that most of the great continents sank beneath the sea. Only sixteen families survived to come to Nidor, led by Bel-rogas Yorgen. But I think there are other continents out there in the sea, and I think you Earthmen come from one of them. None of our ships has ever sailed out far enough to find it; they couldn't carry enough food or water. But with the machines you have, you could come to Nidor. Originally, we must have come from the same stock—but men, like animals, can change over the years and diverge from each other. So, in a way, you are from the Outer Darkness."
Smith chuckled. "Very clever. Wrong, of course, but very well thought out. I tell you in all truth that we are both from the Outer Darkness and from the place where the Great Light is."