"You will cause a lot of pain. Not just for them. For yourself, too."
"So be it," Mark said. "They've made their own terms."
"I think I could send you home--a place you'd probably like--instead."
For a moment, Mark looked at him almost wistfully. Then, "No. Maybe afterwards," he said. "Now it's no longer the gift, but its acceptance. In a matter of weeks, I'll be ready to move. Later... We'll see."
"You ought to take some time to think it over."
"I've had more than enough time. I've done plenty of thinking while recovering from our last encounter."
"If I could send you back for just a little while--and you rethought it in a different place--you might get a whole new perspective, decide that it isn't really worth doing. ..."
Mark took a step nearer, lowered his head. His new eye hummed and the lens shone gold.
"You seem awfully eager to be rid of me," he said slowly. Then he turned and looked again at Nora. "Might she be the reason?"
"No," Pol said. "She's known you for years, me for only a few days. There is nothing between us."
"A situation you would probably like to remedy in my absence."
"That's your idea, not mine. I'd like to keep you from making a mistake I almost made. But she can talk for herself."
Mark turned toward her.
"Do you want to get rid of me, also?" he asked.
"Stay," she told him. "But leave the village alone. Please."
"After what they did?"
"They showed you their feelings. They were too harsh, but you'd scared them."
"You're on their side!"
"I was the one who warned you."
"...And his side!" He gestured at Pol, lens flashing. "Magic! Dragons! He represents everything archaic and reactionary! He stands in the way of progress! And you prefer him to me!"
"I never said that!"
She took a step forward, beginning to reach toward him. He turned away. He waved his right fist in Pol's face.
"I could kill you with one hand. I was a blacksmith."
"Don't try it," Pol said. "I was a boxer."
Mark looked up. Moonbird looked down at him.
"You think that ancient beast makes you invincible? I, too, have servants."
He raised his left hand, peeled back the sleeve. A large control bracelet, covering half his forearm, gleamed in the space between them. His fingers danced upon the studs. The man-sized machines all turned in their direction and began to advance.
Pol raised his right hand. His loose sleeve fell back. The dragonmark moved visibly upon his pulse.
"It is not too late," Pol said, "to stop what I think I see coming."
"It is too late," Mark replied.
One by one, the machines faltered and grew still, some emitting static and strange noises, others ceasing all movement abruptly, without sound. Mark ran his fingers over his controls once again, but nothing responded.
"Dad used to call that my poltergeist effect," Pol stated. "Now--"
Mark swung at him. Pol ducked and drove a fist into his midsection. Mark grunted and bent slightly. Pol caught him on the jaw with a left jab. He'd a chance for a second blow to the other's face but pulled the punch for fear of striking the eye prosthesis. In that off-balance moment of hesitation, Mark swung his entire left arm like a club, his heavy bracelet striking Pol on the side of the head.
Pol fell to his knees, covering his head with both arms. He saw a boot coming and fell to the side to avoid it.
Squash? Burn?
He realized that he had come into contact with the great beast.
No, Moonbird! No!
But a low rumble from the dragon caused Mark to draw back, looking upward, raising his hands.
Vision dancing, Pol saw the strands all about them. That red one...
From the corner of his normal eye, Mark saw the fallen man gesture with his left hand. He moved to kick at him again and felt his legs grow immobile. He began to topple.
He struck and lay there, paralyzed from the waist down. As he struggled to prop himself with his arms, he saw that the other had risen to his knees again and was still rubbing his head. Suddenly, there was an arm about his shoulder. He looked up.
"Nora ..."
"Please, Mark. Say you won't hurt our village, or any of the others."
He tried to pull away from her.
"You never cared for me," he said.
"That's not true."
"The first good-looking stranger comes along you lay your claim and send him to get rid of me. ..."
"Don't talk like that."
He turned into a sitting position.
"Flee while you have the chance," he said. "Warn the villages or not, as you choose. It will make no difference. I will be'coming. I will take what I want. That includes you. What I bring with me will be more than sufficient to deal with a dragon--or a whole family of them. Go! Tell them I hate them all. Tell them--"
"Come on, Nora," Pol said, rising. "There is no reasoning with the man."
He held out his hand. She rose and took it.
"I suppose I would be wise," he said to Mark, "to kill you. But she would never forgive me. And you are the son of the only parents I knew. So you have some time. Use it to reconsider your plan. If you come, as you said you would, I will be waiting. I've no desire to be the villagers' champion. But there is a balance you would upset which could bring great danger to us all."
As he helped Nora to mount Moonbird, he saw that Mouseglove had vanished. He looked about the rooftop, but the man was nowhere in sight.
He climbed up behind her. He looked down at Mark.
"Don't come," he said.
"I feel your magic," Mark said softly. "I will find a way to stop it. It must be a wave phenomenon, tuned by your nervous system--"
"Don't lose any sleep over it."
Moonbird, home!
He felt the great muscles bunch beneath him. Moonbird was running, hopping, gliding. They sailed out over the edge of the roof and began to climb.
"He will not be paralyzed for good, will he?"
Pol shook his head.
"An hour or so. The strands are tangled, not knotted."
"Strands? What do you mean?"
"He's a prisoner inside himself. His body will recover soon."
"He will destroy us," she said.
"He's got quite an impressive base," said Pol, looking down. "You may be right. I hope not."
The sun had begun its long slide westward. Once more, the winds sang about them. Below and behind, Mark's mechanical servants began to move long before he did. He had not really paid attention to the third person to regard him from the back of Moonbird. Now, the shadowy image of the small man was submerged by the torrent of his hate for the other, passing altogether into oblivion.
Clouds passed. His lens darkened. The bracelet began to function once again.
XV
The prototype blue-bellied, gray-backed tracer-bird with the wide-angle eye and the parabola ear followed the dragon-riders north. A series of the larger fliers followed it at well-spaced intervals, to serve as relay points for the spy broadcasts. So far, however, the tracer-bird had not yet gained sufficiently upon its objective that it had anything to transmit. Had it been nearer, it would have overheard portions of the story Pol had recently recounted to Mouseglove. But as it was not, it did not even hear Nora's questions:
"I am surprised that you realized this much of your heritage so quickly, so fully. But even so, Mark has had time to build his strength and you have not. How would you oppose a large flight of those birds, and a mass of the ground machines? And I thought that I saw men back there, too. Or dwarves... Supposing he has a large army? Have you any plan at all?"