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“Has all the tribe come here?” whispered Carl.

“No,” said Ralph bleakly. “Only those who could make it. But that’s more than we can really hold. Keeping order in that mob is more than enough for our guards to do, besides manning the lookout posts—and the food isn’t going to last very long. And, if they’re crowded together like this for several weeks, there’ll be sickness. Oh, it’s bad, it’s very bad.”

Lightning blazed luridly in the windy heavens. A group of solemn Doctors approached the Chief. Two of them bore holy symbols aloft. Two were beating drums. Two chanted spells against witchcraft. In their lead, tall and old and grim, stalked Donn.

His robes clung to him in the lashing rain, his face was streaming with the chill watery flow, but there was no weakness and no mercy in the eagle face that lifted up to Carl. His voice came harsh and clear through the storm: “You have been to the City.”

Carl forced himself to meet those terrible eyes. “I have,” he said. It would be worse than useless to deny what was plain to everyone.

“You knew it was forbidden. You knew death is the penalty.”

“And I knew it was our only chance to save ourselves!”

Carl turned to the ranked people where they stood in the rain, staring and waiting. “I know there is wisdom in the City, not witchcraft, not devils or Doom, but wisdom, craft and knowledge to drive off the Lann and rebuild the ancient glories of man. My friends and I risked our lives to go there for the sake of the tribe. For your sakes, O people.”

“And you brought down the anger of the gods!” cried Donn. He pointed at the boys, but it was to the Dalesmen that he shouted. “They went to the City once and entered the taboo circle and brought back a piece of the cursed magic. Our army was beaten at the battle of the river. They went again and dealt with the witches and fiends. The Lann are at our gates and our homes lie waste. People of the Dales, the gods have turned their faces from you. The wrath of the gods lies heavy on us, and we have been given into the hands of our enemies!”

“Aye—aye—aye—” The voices rumbled, sullen, hating, the voices of a folk frightened and desperate and looking for a scapegoat. There had been nothing but bad luck. Something must have angered the gods, and the High Doctor was the man who knew their dark will. Fists were shaken and swords began to gleam.

“The blasphemers must die!”

“Yes, yes, yes— Hang them, hang them now—” It was like a chorus of wolves baying. The mob pressed closer, the fierce blink of lightning gleamed on eyes and bared teeth.

“No!” Ralph’s roar was like the thunder come to earth. His sword flamed suddenly free, and his loyal guards drew their own blades and formed a ring about the boys.

“If they have done a crime,” shouted Ralph, “let them be tried as is the right of all Dalesmen. Are you beasts that would kill on one man’s word? I swore to uphold the law of the Dales, and I’ll do it at sword’s point if I must!”

“Then let them be thrown in prison,” shrilled Donn. “Let the Council judge them tomorrow.”

Ralph’s sword lowered as the crowd fell away. “So be it,” he said wearily. “Let them be jailed, as the law demands.” He touched his son’s cheek, briefly and tenderly. “I’m sorry, Carl.”

The boy tried to smile. “It’s all right, Father.”

Ezzef led a squad of guards to take the three friends to jail. The young guardsman was outraged. “If that’s the law,” he cried, “then it’s a duty to break it!” He lowered his voice. “If you fellows want to make a dash for freedom, I don’t think any of us could, uh, grab you in time.”

“A dash to the Lann? No, thanks!” Carl grimaced. “Anyway, I want a chance to plead my case before the Council. I’m going to try and get that stupid taboo lifted.”

“I’ll spread the word,” said Ezzef. “There’ve been rumors about your last expedition to the City. A lot of us younger men think you’re probably right. At least, that you ought to get a fair hearing. We’ll all be at the meeting tomorrow.” His face darkened. “And if everything goes against you, if you really are sentenced to swing, we’ll see what can be done about rescuing you. Nor do I think your father is so inhumanly upright that he wouldn’t give us a hand in that case!”

“We’ll see.” Carl’s voice was flat with weariness. “Right now I just want to sleep.”

The jail was a small, solid building near the great market square. It was watched over by a middle-aged guard and his wife, who were themselves indignant at seeing three boys facing death after having fought for the tribe that threatened them now. They prepared baths and supper, and locked the prisoners into a small clean cell of their own. The other rooms were crowded with men serving short terms for the brawling that was unavoidable in the over-full town.

When the door closed behind him, Owl yawned and stretched and broke into a chuckle. “First the witches jug us, then the Dalesmen,” he said. “And in between, we were held by the Lann. I guess we just aren’t popular.”

“Who cares?” Tom’s voice was blurred with sleep, and he stumbled almost blindly for one of the straw ticks on the floor.

Carl stood for a moment looking out of the small, iron-barred window. The rain was still falling heavily, the street was running with water and muck, the town lay dark beyond. Yes, he thought wearily, yes, his was a strange destiny. He seemed to be an outcast everywhere in the world because he bore a mystery in his heart.

Well—tomorrow— He slept.

That night the Lann army marched its last lap. Dalesmen saw burning houses red against the horizon and heard the tramping of thousands of feet and hoofs, the clinking of metal and the guttural voices of men. When the dawn mists lifted, they saw a ring of steel about their walls, campfires burning, horses staked out in grainfields, and the savage myriads of Lann prowling around the defense.

The last stronghold was besieged.

Chapter 14

COUNCIL IN DALESTOWN

Under the law of the Dales, every tribesman was a member of the Council and could attend its meetings on summons of the Chief if he chose, to help make new laws and reach important decisions. The Council was also the highest court, though ordinary trials were given over to a jury of elders. But this was to be no common proceeding, and the criers and drums of the meeting had been calling since dawn.

Some warriors had to stand guard in the towers and watch the encircling Lann, and as always, there were men who would not trouble themselves to attend a Council even when they were able. But rumor had been flying throughout the night and the morning. By noon the Hall was full.

Ralph mounted the stage at its northern end with a slow, grave step. He was clad in black, with a white mantle hanging from his shoulders and the golden-hilted sword of justice at his side. After him came Donn, leaning on the arm of a younger Doctor, and then the elders of the tribe. They took their seats and waited.

Carl and his friends were led by an armored guard onto the stage and found chairs there. The buzz of voices grew almost to a roar. For a moment Carl was afraid. He saw the hundreds upon hundreds of eyes all staring at him, and it was worse than the spears of the Lann. Then a single deep voice shouted above the noise—”Give it to ’em, lads! You’ve done well!” Courage returned and he sat down, folding his arms and looking stiffly ahead.