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Updated: June 20, 2025
Perhaps the flame beam now destroying the cutter was to be turned on the walls of the keep in turn. Foanna chant again, low and clear. Splashes from the water as those on the jetty cast into the sea objects Ross could not define. The Terran's body jerked, his mask smothered a cry of pain. About his legs and middle, immersed in the waves, there was cold so intense that it seared.
The Polynesian girl loosed her grip on her companions' hands, taking a step closer to the Foanna. "Three can be four " "Or five." Ashe moved up beside her. "If we suit your purpose." Was Gordon Ashe crazy? Or had he fallen victim to whatever filled this place? Yet it was Ashe's voice, sane, serene, as Ross had always heard it. The younger Agent wet his lips; it was his turn to have a dry mouth.
Now they've turned him over to the Foanna " "What will they do with him?" the girl demanded of Loketh. His answer came roundabout as usual as the native squatted by the analyzer and clicked his answer into it. "They have claimed the wreck survivors for tribute. Your companion will be witches' meat." "Witches' meat?" repeated Ross, uncomprehending.
Because the Foanna are those they reckon the most dangerous they move against them now, using us and weakening our forces into the bargain. A plan which is clever, but the plan of men who do not like to fight with their own blades." "They are worse than the coast scum, these cowards!" Ongal spat. Torgul smiled again. "That is what they believe we will say, kinsman, and so underrate them.
The corridor ended in a narrow slit of room, and the wall before them was not the worked stone of the citadel but a single slab of what appeared to be glass curdled into creamy ridges and depressions. Here were the Foanna, their robes once more cloaking them. Each held, point out, one of the rods.
Ashe was a dark figure against the thin light of the companionway as he slid back the cabin door. "If Ynvalda agrees...." As he went out Ross was right behind him. The Foanna had been given, by their own choice, quarters on the bow deck of the cruiser where sailcloth had been used to form a tent. Not that any of the awe-stricken Rovers would venture too near them.
"Kyn Add has been taken by those who are not Wreckers, not Rovers, not those who serve the Foanna but strangers out of the sea!" Ross could only stare back, confused. And then the full force of his danger struck home.
To his Terran eyes they were all superficially alike, but the one seated on a control stool had a cold arrogance in his expression, a pitiless half smile which made Ross face him squarely. The Terran longed for one of the Foanna staffs and the ability to use it. To spray that energy about this cabin might reduce the Baldy defenses to nothing.
The fiery lines under his feet were smoking, tendrils rising and twisting as the hair of the Foanna rippled and twisted. And the smoke clung, wreathed his body. They moved in a cocoon of smoke, thicker and thicker, until Ross could not even see the Foanna who accompanied him, was only assured of her presence by the hand which grasped his.
Ashe gazed about him at the Wreckers and the robed figures. His awareness of them both suggested to Ross that if the natives had come under the control of the Foanna, the Terran resisted their influence. But Ashe did not try to escape the assistance of his two fellow prisoners, and he limped with their aid back down the hall, following the Foanna.
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