The thought-crown was not in place but Nelson hoped that the contact would enable him to get through a message to Li Kin's relaxed mind. He remembered how he had heard Nsharra and Tark all those centuries ago in Yen Shi.
"Li Kin," he sent his urgent thought, "Wake, Li Kin, and do not fear. It is I, Eric Nelson."
Over and over, soothingly, and presently Li Kin opened his eyes and said aloud in a startled voice. "Who calls?"
Then he saw the gray wolf standing over him and Tark's eyes burning green in the shadows and his mouth opened for a scream.
Nelson leaped. He smothered the cry and crushed Li Kin's slight body with his own weight until he stopped struggling. Then he lifted the thought-crown again in his teeth and offered it. Staring wildly, Li Kin took the thing in shaking hands and put it on.
"Li, it is I — Eric Nelson!" he thought swiftly.
"Nelson?" came Li Kin's numb thought. His eyes dilated in horror. "It is a nightmare. I am dreaming."
Nelson's thoughts raced, telling the other what happened. Li Kin shook his head.
"Sorcery. The power of those who were before man." Then, heavily, "We did evil, Eric Nelson, to come to L'Lan with our weapons. For that evil we shall die."
"Very probably," Nelson answered, "but just now I need your hands to release Barin, so that I can get my own hands back. Will you help?"
Li Kin nodded. It was a dazed, queer sort of nod. Nelson knew what Li Kin was thinking. He was thinking that the heavy sword of Fate was weighing upon the woven strand of his years and would presently cut it through and that, in the woven strand, there were few bright strands, very few among the many that were strained and drab.
"Of course," nodded Li Kin. "I will help." He fumbled for his spectacles, put them on and rose, pulling his jacket straight. Then he went out with the two wolves trotting like two silent shadows at his heels.
The corridors were empty, the moonlight falling through the vaulted glass in a strange dusky light such as is seen only in dreams.
Li Kin's thought informed them, "The others hold council."
"Why aren't you with them?" Nelson asked.
Li Kin shrugged. "I can better spend my time in sleep. You know how much my word weighs with Sloan."
They came to the prison wing. Here as before the torches flared but now there were no guards. Nelson and Tark, who had slipped back into the shadows, rejoined the little Chinese.
Li Kin's thought was puzzled. "I can't understand it. Shan Kar keeps the boy under guard at all times."
Something came drifting to Nelson on the sluggish air. A little red whisper that made his nerve-ends ripple. He saw the hackles ridge up along Tark's spine and then the two of them ran ahead of Li Kin, going low to the ground with a slinking gait, up to the door of Barin's cell.
Before Li Kin unbarred the door, they knew what they would see.
Barin lay on the floor. The smell of death was on him, and the smell of blood. He had died only a short time before and he had not died easily. The reek of Piet Van Voss was strong in the little room.
Tark's sorrow burst from him in one wailing cry that was quickly checked. Nelson caught the wild, raging thought of the Clan-leader.
"I will avenge!"
Chapter XIII
THE FIGHT IN THE PALACE
For a long moment they stood, the three of them, without movement or speech. The dead boy lay looking quietly into eternity, and there was no sound save the hissing of the torches as they burned. Nothing stirred but the flames, their light running ragged and uncertain over the gleaming walls.
Over and over, above his horror at the brutality of this thing, the thought tolled like a bell in Nelson's mind: Barin is dead, and I shall never be a man again.
It was a thought he could not face.
"I knew nothing of this," said Li Kin out of the depths of shame — shame that his own kind could have done such a thing. "I swear it."
Nelson realized then that Tark had swung around toward Li Kin and that there was death in his green eyes.
Nelson sprang, interposing his wolf body between them.
'^Wait, Tark!" he thought swiftly. "Li Kin speaks the truth. He, of all of us, never wished to come here, never wished your people harm. Sloan was here and Van Voss. Not this one."
Tark's hairy body quivered. He did not seem to have heard.
Nelson told him, "Tark, listen to me! Barin was the price of my body. I want as much as you to punish those who did this. And for that we need Li Kin's help. Do you hear me?"
Slowly, reluctantly, Tark answered, "I hear." He relaxed but not much, "Let us go and find the others."
The torchlight gleamed like blood upon his fangs. "No," said Nelson. "Li Kin and I will go. You'll wait."
Swiftly, over Tark's snarling protest, he pressed home the truth. "You know the outland weapons. You'd be dead before you could spring. You can better avenge Barin by staying alive to fight for the Brotherhood."
"Very well," came Tark's thought finally. Then, suspiciously, "What have you to say to these men, Eric Nelson?"
"I have much to say," answered Nelson grimly, looking at Barin. Then he added ironically, "Don't worry, Tark. Even if I would I can't betray you. You have the best hostage a man can give — his own body!"
Tark growled assent and lay down like a great dog beside the dead boy to wait.
Li Kin said with a terrible lack of emotion, "They are not men, those two. They are butchers. They are lower than the brutes."
He was a very tired man, Li Kin. Nelson could feel the overpowering weariness of his mind. Weary of war and bloodshed and suffering and the pointless days that wandered on to nowhere. Weary of tears that had long ago been shed, of memories that were fainter than forgotten dreams, of the very beating of his heart.
"Let us go," said Nelson and led the way out of the cell.
They found Sloan and Van Voss together in the vast gloomy Council Hall. They were alone. They had a jar of wine on the table between them and their faces in the flaring torchlight were the faces of happy men.
They glanced up as Li Kin entered and then, as they saw the wolf-shape that moved beside him, they sprang up, reaching for their guns.
Li Kin flung up his hand to stop them. He bent down, shielding Nelson's wolf-body with his own body, and said with a strange dreamy smile, "Put on the thought-crowns, my friends. You are about to learn something of the powers you fight against."
Nelson watched them as they picked up the platinum circles and put them on, frowning, their hands still ready on their gun butts.
He sent his thought out to them. "Haven't you a word of welcome for me — Eric Nelson?"
Van Voss swore and drew his gun. "A beast-spy from Vruun, who tries to trick us like children! Get out of the way, Li Kin."
But Sloan snapped, "Hold on, Piet." Nelson could feel his mind probing, testing.
Nelson told them, "You don't believe? Then listen."
Rapidly, he reminded them of things they had done together that only Eric Nelson could know. Gradually Van Voss' heavy jaw fell and his gun slid back into the holster. He sat down, staring.
Sloan let out a long harsh breath and swore softly. "How was this done and why?"
"The punishment of the Guardian!" said a voice from across the hall — a voice full of fear.
The voice was Shan Kar's. He came from a side door across the shadowy hall, his eyes drugged with sleep. Apparently the voices had awakened him and he had come in time to hear.
He looked at Nelson with fear-wide eyes. "Kree did this to you, didn't he?"
"Yes, he did." Nelson told them all that had happened.
Sloan's hard brown face was tight. "Then you have to take Barin back to get your own body back?"