Hiero remembered their group thrill of nausea when he, Lu-chare, Aldo, and the bear Gorm had first glimpsed the buried cavern of the past, where the great, plastic-shrouded machines had lain, the dispatchers of the ancient terror throughout the world. Aldo, the lover of all life, had almost fainted.
As Hiero sat now, brooding over what he had learned, his determination hardened. The Unclean were going to perish, root and branch, down to the last serf, the merest acolyte in the most minor degree. This was his mission, and he would not fail.
At length, he turned to his fellow venturers. He knew what he wanted to do, but it might prove a trifle hard to explain. Yet he must make the attempt.
We must be just south of the main road from the west to a city held by our enemies. One old road runs from the southeast to the northwest, springing from many other roads far away in the South. We must have been moving roughly parallel to it, though a goodish way off. It is the only way from the east to the port of Neeyana, at least through the forest. West of Neeyana there are other roads and eventually, I think, also more open country, at least in part, but I have never been there or examined detailed maps of that region, except in the most casual way. The shores are very dangerous, and most traffic goes by ship.
He explained further what he had just been doing. There was an enemy vessel present out on the waters, and they must all be very, very careful from now on. If the Unclean ship were no more than two days’ sail from the harbor of the foe, then there would soon be contact with someone, probably a someone they had no wish to meet unawares.
We must guard our minds, he went on. Use your speech aloud to one another and talk with me only if urgent. You people use an odd mental band and not one likely to be constantly watched, which is good. But the Unclean have many servants who are not human and with whom they must speak, so be careful! Also, the nonhumans watch and listen, as well as send messages on their own account. We must go like shadows from here on. Something strange out on the sea seems to have disturbed our enemies. I have no idea what it is, but anything that bothers them is likely to be in our favor.
The catfolk had no trouble understanding him, though they grew wildly excited at the thought of actually coming into contact with the legendary wizard lords, whose crimes had been instilled into each of them in their youth. When Hiero explained that he had no real plans other than somehow to steal a small vessel and escape with it, they seemed to feel that this would prove easy—a simple matter of overpowering whoever stood in their way.
I will loose the Wind of Death on them. Then we will cut their throats! This was M’reen, tapping the pouch which hung at her belt. It took a while for Hiero to quiet them down, to explain the numbers of the Unclean and their servants, and to make sure they would do nothing rash, but would follow his orders. After a while, he felt sure of them. The first rush of hatred would not make them behave in an irresponsible way.
They continued on for the remainder of the day with redoubled caution, using hand signals when they wanted to tell Hiero something and conversing in their own purring murmur among themselves.
That night they camped on another natural platform. After Hiero had grilled his share of the meat, they put out the fire, remote though the chance was that it might be observed. Water had never been a problem to date; not only did the tree crotches often hold it in quantity, but many of the large, epiphytic plants contained small pools as well.
As the catfolk dozed through the dark hours, the man. continued to reach out with his thoughts into the night, not only in the direction they were moving but on either side as well. He was beginning, if his senses were operating in a correct manner, to feel what he thought was the town of Neeyana, a way off to the north and east of their present position. He could not read any individual minds, but the sensation of grouped humanity gave off a feeling almost of heat in his head. He was fairly sure he was right.
It was not in his original plans to approach the place at all, at least not closely. There was far too much danger of Unclean detection. He now realized that it might prove to be the only sensible course, especially if they were to steal a small boat. He knew of no other towns to the east; Captain Gimp, on the previous voyage, had mentioned none, though they must exist somewhere along the coast. But he knew nothing at all of the western and southwestern coasts, either. There was a port, known to and used on occasion by the Abbeys, but it lay a thousand leagues to the northwest. He had been warned to avoid it by his superiors when he had set out a year before, for it was full of spies, and only a few of the traders could be really trusted. This was the brawling port of Namcush. A river led down to it from far up near the borders of the territories of the Republic, a river along which trade ran in both directions, though uncertain and often interrupted. In any case, it was of no present use to him, though it might prove a place to steer for in an emergency.
Eventually he slept, but the guard on his mind never relaxed. In the morning he felt there would be much to do.
They had not been on the march for more than a few hours when the road he had been seeking appeared below them. On Hiero’s orders, the group had been traveling through the lowest level of the arboreal highway, though even that was far above the ground. The bog had come to an unheralded end sometime during the day before, and firm ground now lay at the base of the mighty trees.
It was M’reen, taking a turn to scout ahead, who signaled the break in the trees. The others joined her to peer down at what lay below.
The trade route was well trampled and wide, though circuitous, for the tremendous task of felling the forest giants had never been attempted, at least not in these parts. The track simply wound about among their bases, back and forth, but always holding a rough course from east to west. Hiero had never before seen it, since he had left it leagues off to his right on his previous venture south. He knew, however, that it connected after Neeyana through a maze of other paths and roads with distant D’alwah, and that goods passed along it of every sort, ranging from fabrics and furs to dried fruit and spices, and not excluding slaves. It was most probably along the eastern part of this route that his wife had been taken as a slave to Neeyana. At least, from her description, it had sounded like this way.
The trail lay empty and silent under the green shadows of the giant trees, with dappled sunbeams illuminating patches of it here and there. While the others waited patiently, the Metz scanned the immediate surroundings with his mind, using the utmost care. The Unclean would be sure to have a watch on this route, a. main artery of trade to both east and west, and the last thing the little party needed now was to stumble on some outpost or other. He could detect nothing, however, in either direction, and this puzzled him. The distant mass of mental activity which he felt sure was Neeyana had grown increasingly stronger throughout the morning, but why was there nothing nearer? Surely some traders or one of the Unclean patrols ought to be within detection range.
He considered. The mental shields that the Unclean had begun to issue when last he was in the North might account for the silence all about. This seemed implausible, though. He knew the shields were rare and probably very costly in both time and skilled workmanship. He felt sure such shields would be issued to only key personnel—commanders, members of the Unclean Brotherhood, and others in high authority. A simple unit of watchers on the trails would be most unlikely to have one; or, if the captain possessed one, then Hiero ought to be able to pick up the thoughts of the other, humbler members of the group. It was most perplexing.