One of the men chuckled a little as he pulled at the oars, and Dran's sharp whisper cut across the merriment. "You doesn't laugh at the captain's jokes at a time like this! Shut quiet!"
Kris grinned in the darkness as the longboat moved toward the shore in the blackness. They were a good crew; they knew what they were doing, and they knew how to keep their mouths shut. And they were loyal; that was the one important thing. They knew that their captain was right, and they'd follow him to the Rim of the World itself.
The Krand was anchored off the rocky shore of Bellinet, the largest of the Bronze Islands. Nearby was a small village. None of these villagers must know that the great load of cobalt from the Krand's false hull was being unloaded here.
The constant drizzle of rain that marked every Nidorian night wetted the bodies of the sweating seamen and dripped gently into the bottom of the boat. And there, the heavy cobalt coins glistened metallically in the faint light. It was the last load; the rest of the loot from the Bank of Dimay already lay in the tidal cave beneath the cliff.
After several minutes, Dran peDran whispered: "Captain! Us is here. Does you want to go in?"
Kris nodded. "I'll help you transfer it inside. We've got to hurry."
He glanced up and frowned. The rain was already letting up; soon, the Great Light would he coloring the eastern sky.
He and the crewmen stripped off their black seamen's uniforms—a vest and knee-length trousers, all alike except for the white stripes on the front of the vests of the officers.
Kris slid silently into the gently heaving water, feeling its coolness against his overheated body. "All right, Dran," he whispered harshly. "Give me the first load."
Dran heaved a string of coins out of the bottom of the boat. Each coin was pierced by the symbolic triangular hole which stood for the beam of light that pierced the lens of each temple as it illumined the altar. Through each of the holes ran a strong bronze wire, which was twisted to form a loop. And on each loop was a quarter of a man-weight in coins—more than twenty thousand weights of solid cobalt!
Kris grasped a loop in each hand, took a deep breath, and dropped to the sandy bottom of the surging sea, twenty feet below the surface. Slowly pushing his way toward the cliff ahead, he felt his way with his feet. As long as he kept on the sand, he was all right.
In the darkness, it was difficult to tell where he was going, but the gentle slope of coral sand that spilled out of the underwater cave before him was easy to follow. He moved one foot after another cautiously.
Holding the loops of coins, he pushed himself toward the cliff. Finally, he felt the opening in the wall. He lowered his head and crept up the slope toward the cave beneath the cliff. The only opening was completely underwater at all times, and traveling the passage, especially with a heavy load, required the ability to hold a breath and keep from panicking.
When at last his head broke water, Kris peKym took a deep, gasping breath. Above him, in the cave, were two of his crewmen. One of them held out a hand.
"I'll take the coin, captain."
Kris handed the two loops up to him. The light of the flickering oil lamp cast changing, moving shadows across the interior of the dark cavern.
Kris climbed up from the pool that led to the outside and walked with the two men who were carrying the loops. They went to the heavy, leaden casket at the far end of the cave. It was filled with oil, the sea-smelling oil of the great lizards that prowled the coasts of the Bronze Islands. The huge, vegetarian beasts were excellent sources of oil, although it was scarcely worthwhile to ship it to the mainland of Nidor, where plant oils from the ubiquitous peych-bean were so cheap.
The coins went into the oil-filled chest. In sea water, even cobalt would pit and deteriorate. The oil would protect it for a while.
"Captain! Here's another!" One of the crewmen had bobbed his head above the pool; in his hand was another loop of coins.
Kris watched as the rest of the boatload, representing the last of the great mass of cobalt that had been taken from the Bank of Dimay, was hauled, loop by loop, into the hidden cavern.
When the last one had been dumped into the chest, he grinned and said, "That's the last of it, boys. She'll stay there until we need her. Lock it up."
One of the seamen stepped up to the casket, closed the lid, and padlocked it. He handed the heavy bronze key to Kris. "There he is, captain," he said, a twisted smile crossing his face. "They'll never find it here."
There was one more precaution. They shoveled sand and heavy chunks of coral over the box, covering it completely. When that was done, Kris said, "All's well, boys. Let's go."
The cobalt was buried now—the cobalt whose theft could trigger the movement that would, at last, drive the hated Earthmen from Nidor. Kris hoped so.
He took one last look. Then the three of them dived into the pool and swam through the passage to the waiting longboat.
The Great Light was just beginning to lighten the cloud-laden sky in the east.
In Vashcor, that same day, Norvis peKrin Dmorno and Marja geDel Vyless were performing their duties at the Party headquarters with more than usual energy.
"So Kris has succeeded in robbing the bank," Marja said. "Wonderful!"
"It is," the Secretary said quietly. "He carried the job off perfectly— and your father's out in the towns now, making speeches claiming it was the Elders who did it."
"Will that line of approach work?"
"I'm not sure," Norvis said. "It's your father's policy, though, and he's the Leader. For fourteen years, Del's been preaching against the Council. If he keeps it up, he may eventually convince the people that the Elders are corrupt."
"Where's Kris now?" Marja asked.
"Caching the money, no doubt. He ought to be back here soon. Why?"
"Oh—nothing much, Norvis. It's ... just that I'd like to see him again. It's kind of comforting, having a big man like Kris around the office."
Norvis smiled wryly. "Thanks, Marja."
"I didn't mean—"
"I understand."
"I know you do. Kris is ... well, sort of wonderful. I wish I could get to know him better. But he's always out crusading some place or other, just like Father."
"Maybe you'll get the chance soon, Marja. If—"
He was interrupted by a sound of knocking at the door.
"Come in!"
A yellow-clad acolyte entered. "From the Priest-Mayor," he mumbled. "A message." He handed Norvis a sealed envelope, which the Secretary broke open immediately and read.
"What is it, Norvis?"
"Grandfather Marn peFulda wants to see me at once. I'd better go, I guess."
"Norvis peKrin Dmorno, Secretary to the Merchants' Party," the acolyte intoned.
Grandfather Marn peFulda Brajjyd, Priest-Mayor of Vashcor, looked up as Norvis entered the office. "The peace of your ancestors be with you always," he said.
"May the Great Light illumine your mind as he does the world. You asked to see me, Grandfather?"
The Priest-Mayor looked at his visitor and smiled. "Sit down, my son. We'll not stand on ceremony here."
As Norvis sat, the Grandfather lifted an eyebrow at the acolyte who stood at the door. "Be about your duties," he said. "I have nothing to fear from Norvis peKrin Dmorno."
The acolyte bowed and left, but it seemed to Norvis that there was a trace of reluctance in his demeanor.
"My staff is rather on edge," the Grandfather explained apologetically. "They seem to fear for my life."
"They have nothing to fear from me, Ancient One," Norvis said.
"I know. But the priesthood is not exactly in good odor here in Vashcor; my Mayoralty is hardly considered any more."