 Key out of Time by Andre Norton, Chapter 16. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by RJ Davis. Key out of Time by Andre Norton, Chapter 16. The Opening of the Great Door. It was not the general airlessness of the long-closed passage which wore on Ross's nerves. Maid Corera suddenly reached out and clasped fingers about the wrist of the two men she walked between. It was a crushing sensation of age, of a toll of years so long, so heavy, as to make time itself into a turgid flood which tugged at their bodies, mired their feet as they trudged after the phoenix. This sense of age, of a dead and heavy past, was so stifling that all three terrains breathed in gas. Corera's breasts became sobs, yet she matched her pace to Ace and Ross, kept going. Ross himself had a little idea of their surroundings, but one small portion of his brain asked answerless questions. The foremost being, why did the past crush in on him here? He had traveled time, but never before had he been beaten with the feel of countless dead and dying years. Going back, that coarse whisper came from Ace, and Ross thought he understood. A time gate? He was eager to accept such an explanation. Time gates he could understand, but that the phoenix used one. Not our kind, asked, replied. But his words had pulled Ross out of a spell which had been as quicksand about him, and he began to fight back with the determination not to be sucked into what filled this place. In spite of Ross's efforts, his eyes could supply him with no definite impression of where they were. The ramp had led them out of the sea, but where they walked now, linked hand to hand, Ross could not say. He could see the glimmer of the phoenix, turning his head, he could see his companions as shadows. But all beyond that was utter dark. Ah, Carowaz Solves gave way to a whisper which was half-mone. This is a way of gods, old gods. Gods who never dealt with men. It is not well to walk the road of the gods. Her fear lapped to Ross. He faced that emotion as he had faced so many different kinds of fear all his life. Sure, he felt that pressure on him. Not the pressure of past centuries now, but the power beyond his ability to describe. Not our gods. Ross put his stubborn defiance into words, more as a shield against his own wavering. No power where there is no belief. From what half-forgotten bit of reading had he dreaded that knowledge. No being without belief, he repeated. To his vast amazement he heard a slap, though the sound bordered on hysteria. No belief, no power, the older man replied. You speared the right feast, Ross. No gods of ours dwell here at Carowaz, and whatever God does has no rights over us. Hold to that girl, hold tight. Ah ye forty thousand gods, ye gods of sea of sky of woods, the mountains of valleys, ye assemblies of gods, the elder brothers of the gods that are, ye gods that once were, ye that whisper, ye that watch by night, ye that show your gleaming eyes, come down awake stir, walk this road, walk this road. She was singing, verse softly and in more strongly, the liquid words of her own tongue repeated in English, as if what she strove to call she would share with her companions. Now there was triumph in her singing, and Ross found himself echoing her, walked this road as a demand. It was still there, all of it, the crushing weight of the past, and that was rooted within that past, which had reached out for them to possess or to alter. Only they were free of that reaching now, and they could see too. The fuzzy darkness was lighter, and there were normal walls about them. Ross put out his free hand and rubbed fingertips along rough stones. Once more their senses were assaulted by a stealthy attack from beyond. The bounds of space and time as the walls fell away, and they came out into a wide space whose boundaries they could not see. Here that which rooted was strong, a mighty weight poised aloft to strike them down. Come down, awake, stir. Care was pleading sank again to a whisper. Her voice sounded hoarse as if her mouth were dry. Her words formed by a shrunken tongue issued from a part's throat. Light spreading in channels along the floor, making a fiery pattern. Patterns within patterns, intricate designs within designs. Ross jerked his eyes away from those patterns. To study them was danger. He knew without being warned. Care was nailed bit into his flesh, and he welcomed that pain. It kept him alert, conscious of what was Ross Murdock, holding him safely apart from something greater than he, but entirely alien. The designs and patterns were lined on a pavement, and now the three phoena, swaying as if yielding to unseen winds, begin to follow those patterns with small dancing steps. But the patterns remained where they were, holding to one another for the sustaining strength their contact offered. Back, forth, the phoena danced, and once more their cloaks vanished, or were discarded, so their silver-bright figures advanced, retreated, weaving away from one a rapsque to another. First, about the outer rim, and then in, by spirals and circles. No light except the chrysmal glowing rivulets on the floor. The silver bodies of the phoena moved back and forth, in and out. Then suddenly the three dancers halted, huddled together in an open space between the designs. And Ross was startled by the impression of confusion, doubt, almost despair, wafting from them to the terrors. Back across the patterned floor they came, their hands plashed even as the terrors stood together, and now they fronted the three out of time. Too few, we are too few. She who was the mid-one of the trio said, we cannot open the great door. How many do you need, caravans voice, with no longer parts, frightened, she might have traveled through fear to a new serenity. Why did he think that, Ross wondered pleasingly, was it because he too had had the same release? The Polynesian girl loosed her grip on her companion's hands, taking a step closer to the phoena. Three can be four, or five, asked moved up beside her, if we suit your purpose. Was Gordon asked crazy, or had he fallen victim to whatever filled this place? Yet it was asked his voice, same, serene, as Ross had always heard it. The younger agent wet his lips. It was his turn to have a dry mouth. This was not his game, it could not be. Yet he summoned voice enough to add in turn. Six. When it came, the phoena answer was a warning. To aid us, you must cast aside your seals. Allow your identities to become one with our forces. Having done so, it may be that you shall never be as you are now, but changed. Changed? The word echoed perhaps not in the place where they stood, but in Ross's head. This was a risk such as he had never taken before. His chances in the past had been matters of action, where his own strength and wits were matched against the problem. Here, he would open a door to forces he and his kind should not meet. Exposing self to danger such as did not exist on the plane where weapons and strength of arm could decide victory or defeat. And this was not really his fight at all. What did it matter to Terrence, ten thousand years or so in the future? What happened to the vacacans in this past? He was a fool. They were all fools to become embroiled in this. The Baltis and their stellar empire, if that ever had existed as a Terrence surmise, was long gone before his breed entered space. If you accomplish this with our aid, said Ash, will you be able to defeat the invaders? Again, a lengthening moment of silence before the phoenix replied. We cannot tell. We only know that there is a force laid up here, set behind certain gates in the far past upon which we may call for some supreme effort. But this much we also know. The evil of the shadow reaches out from here now, and where that darkness falls, men will no longer be men, but things in the guise of men who obey and follow as mindless creatures. As yet, this shadow of the shadow is a small one. But it was spread, for that is the nature of those who have spawned it. They have chanced upon it and corrupted a thing we know. Such power feeds upon the will to power. Having turned it to their bidding, they will not be able to resist using it, for it is so easy to do, and results exalt the nature of those who employ it. You have said that you and those like you who travel the time trails fear to change the past. Here the first steps have been taken to alter the future, but unless we complete the defense, it will be ill for all of us. And this is your only weapon, I shall ask once more. The only one strong enough to stand against that which is now unleashed. In the payments, the fire lines were bright and glowing. Even when Ross shut his eyes, parts of those designs were still visible against his eyelids. We don't know how. He made a last-people protest on the side of prudence. We couldn't move as you did. Apart, no. Together, yes. The silvery figures were once more swaying. The mist, which was their hair, flowing about them. Kerwell's hands went out, and the slender fingers of one of the Joanna lifted, closed about firm, brown, tear and flesh. Ice was doing the same. Ross thought he cried out, but he could not be sure. As he watched Kerwell's head begin to sway in concert with her Joanna partner, her black hair springing out from her shoulders to rival the rippling strands of the aliens. Ice was consciously matching steps with the companion, who also drew him along a flowing line of fire. In this last instant, Ross realized the time for retreat was past. There was no place left to go. His hands went out, though he had to force that invitation because in him, there was a shrinking whore of the surrender. But he could not let the others go without him. The Joanna's touch was cool, and yet it seemed that flesh met his flesh, fingers as normal as he has met fingers in that grass. And when that hold was complete, he gave a small gas. For his horror was wiped away. He knew in his place a burst of energy, which could be disciplined to use as a weapon or a tool in concentrated and complicated action. His feet sowed, and then sowed. Did those directions flow without words from the Joanna's fingers to his, and then along his nerves to his brain? He only knew which was the proper next step, and the next, and the next, as they wove their way along the patterned lines. With their going adding a necessary thread to a design, forward four steps, backward one, in and out. Did Ross actually hear that sweet tharming, akin to the glilting speech of the Joanna, or was it a throbbing in his blood, in and out? For it had become of the others he did not know. He was aware only of his own path, of the hand in his, of the silvery shape at his side, to whom he was now tied as if one of the rover captor nets enclosed him both. The fine lines under his feet were smoking, tendrils rising and twisting as a hair the phelanah rippled and twisted. And the smoke clung, reached his body. They moved in a cocoon of smoke, thicker and thicker, until Ross could not even see the phelanah who accompanied him, was only assured of her presence by the hand which grasped his. And a small part of him clung desperately to the awareness of that class as an anchorage against what might come. A tie between the world of reality and the place to do which he was passing. How did one find words to describe this? Ross wondered with that part of him which remained stubbornly Ross Murdock, chair and time agent. He thought he did not see with his eyes, here with his ears, but used other senses his own kind did not recognize or acknowledge. Space, not a room, a cave anything made by normal nature. Space which held something, pure energy. His tearing minds drove to give names of that which was nameless. Perhaps it was a spark of memory and consciousness which gave him that instant of seeing. Was it a throne and on it a simmering figure? He was regarded intently, measured and set aside. There were questions or a question he could not hear and perhaps an answer he would never be able to understand. Or had any of this happened at all? Ross crouched on a cold floor. His head hanging, drained of energy. Of all that feeling of power and well-being he had had when they had begun their dance across the cymbals. About him those designs still glowed dolly. When he looked at them too intently his head ached. He could almost understand, but the struggle was so exhausting he winced at the effort. Gordon, there was no clasp on his hand. He was alone, alone between two glowing Arab skews. That loneliness struck at him with the sharpness of a blow. His head came up frantically. He stared about him in search of his companions. Gordon, his plea and demand in one was answered. Ross? On his hands and knees Ross used the rags of his strength to crawl in that direction, stopping now and then to shake his eyes with his hands to pierce through the cracks between his fingers for some sight of ace. There he was, sitting quietly. His head up as if he were listening or striving to listen. His cheeks were sunken. He had to drain the worn look of a man strained to the limit of physical energy. Yet there was a quiet peace in his face. Ross crawled on, put out a hand to ace's arm as if only by touching the other could he be sure he was not an illusion. And ace's fingers came up to cover the younger man in a grasp as tight as a phoenix hold had been. We did it. Together we did it, ace said. But where? Why? These questions were not even that him Ross knew, but at the moment the younger man did not care where they had been, what they had done. It was enough that his terrible loneliness was gone that ace was here. Still keeping his hold on Ross, ace turned his head and called into the wilderness of the cymbal glowing face about them. Care what? She came to them, not crawling, not rung almost dry of spirit and strength, but on her two feet. About her shoulders her dark hair waved and spun. Or was it dark now? Alone those strands there seemed to be threaded moats of light, giving a silver sheen which was a faint echo of the phoenix's tresses. And was it only his bemused and bewildered sight, Ross muse, or was her skin fairer? Care was smiled down at them and held out her hands, offering one to each. When they took them, Ross knew again that surge of energy he had felt when he had followed the phoenix into the maze dance. Come, there is much to do. He could not be mistaken. Her voice held the singing lilt of the phoenix. Somehow she had crossed some barrier to become a paler, perhaps a lesser, but still a copy of the three aliens. Was this what they had meant when they warned of a change which might come to those who followed them into the ritual of this place? Ross looked after the girl to ash with searching intensity. He could not see no outward change in Gordon, and he felt none within himself. Come, someone care was old impetuousness returned as she tugged at them, urging them to their feet and drawing them with her. She appeared to know where they must go and both men followed her guidance. Once more they came out of the weird and alien into the normal. For here were the rock walls of a passage running up in an angle which became so steep they were forced to pull along by handholds hollered in the walls. Where are we going? I asked. To Cleans. Care was answered was ambiguous, and she sped along, hardly touching the handholds, but hurried. They finished their climb and were in another quarter where patches of sunlight came through a pierced wall to dazzle their eyes. This was similar to the way which had run beside the courtyard in Zahir's castle. Roth looked out of the first opening down into a courtyard, but where Zahir's had held the busy life of the castle, this was silent. Silent, but not deserted. There were men below, armed, helmed. He recognized the uniform of the Wrecker warriors. Saw one or two who wore the gray of the Fouana servants. They stood in lines, unmoving, without speech among themselves. Men who might have been frozen into immobility, and arranged so for some game in which they were the voiceless, will-less pieces. And their immobility was a thing to arouse fear. Were they dead, and still standing? Come, care was voice that sunk to a whisper, and her hand pulled at the men. What? Begin Ross? As shook his head. Those rows below drawn up as if in order to march, unliving rows. They could not be alive as the Terran's new life. Ross left his vantage point, ready to follow care-walk, but he could not block from his mind the picture of those lines, nor forget the terrible blankness which made their faces more unhuman, more frighteningly alien than those of the Fouana. This concludes the reading of Chapter 16. Key Out of Time by Andre Norton Chapter 17 This is a Librebox recording. All Librebox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librebox.org. Recording by R.J. Davis. Key Out of Time by Andre Norton Chapter 17 Shades Against Shadow The corridor ended in a narrow slid of room, and a wall before them was not to work stone of the citadel, but a single slab of what appeared to be glass curdled into creamy ridges and depressions. Here were the Fouana. The rows once more cloaking them. Each hill point out one of the rocks. They moved slowly, but with the precise gestures of those with a demanding and very important task as they traced east-depression in the wall before them with the wand points. Down, up, around. As their feet had moved in the dance pattern, so now their wands moved to cover each line. Now, the wands dropped points to the floor. The Fouana moved from one to another. Then as one, the rods were lifted vertically, brought down together with a single loud tap. On the wall, the blue lines they had traced with such care darkened, melted. The glassy slab shivered, shattered, fell outward in a lace of fragments. So the narrow room became a balcony above a large chamber. Below a platform ran the full length of that hall and on it were mounted a line of oval discs. These had been turned to different angles and each reflected light. A ray beam directed at them from a machine whose metallic casing, projecting antenna, was oddly out of place here. Once more the stance of the Fouana raised as one in the air. This time, from the knobs held out over the hall blazed, the usual whirl of small sparks but strong beams of light. Blue light darkening as it pierced downward until it became thrusting lines of almost tangible substance. When those blue beams struck to nearest ovals, they webbed with lines which cracked wide open. Shattered bits tinkled down to the platform. There was a stirrup into the hall where the machine stood. Figures ran into plain sight. Baldies Ross cried out a warning as he saw those star men raise weapon tubes aimed at the perch on which the Fouana stood. Fire crackling with the speed and sound of lightning flashed up at the balcony. The lances of light met the spears of dark and there was a flash which blinded Ross, a sound which split open the whole world. The tern's eyes opened, not upon darkness but on dazzling light flashes of it which tore over him in great sweeping arch. Days, sick he tried to press his prone body into the unyielding surface on which he lay. But there was no way of burying out of this wildstorm of light and clashing sound. Now under him the very fabric of the floor rocked and quivered as if it were being shaken apart into crumbling rubble. All the will and ability to move was gone. Ross could only lie there and endure. What had happened? He did not know save that what raged about him now was a warring of inimical forces, perhaps both beating on each other even as they strove for mastery. The play of rage resembled sword blades crossing, fencing. Ross threw his arm over his eyes out the intolerable brilliance of that thrust encounter. His body tingled and winced as the whirlwind of energy clashed and reclashed. He was beaten, stupid as a man pinned down too long under a heavy shelling. How did it end? In one terrific thunderclap of sound and blasting power. And when did it end? Hours? Days later? The plane set apart from this. Ross lay in the quiet which his body welcomed thirstily. Then he was conscious of the touch of wind on his face, wind carrying the hint of sea salt. He opened his eyes and saw above him a patch of clouded sky. Shakily he levered himself up on his elbows. There was no complete walls anymore, just jagged points of masonry. Broken teeth and his skull's yaw bones. Open sky, dark clouds, spattering rain. Gordon, carol, Ross's voice was a thin whisper. He licked his lips and tried again. Gordon. Had there been an answering whimper? Ross crawled into a hollow between two fallen blocks, a pool of water. No, it was a cloak of one of the phoenix spread out across the flooring in this fragment of room. Then Ross saw that Ash was there. The cloak figure braced against the Terran's shoulder as he had supported, half embraced the phoenix. Wivalda Ash called that with an urgency which was demanding. Now the phoenix moved, raising an arm in the cloak's flowing sleeve. Ross sat back on his heels. Ross, Ash! He turned his head. Care was stood there, then came forward, planting her feet with care. Her hands outstretched, her eyes wide and unseen. Ross pulled himself up and went to her, finding that the one solid floor seems to dip and sway under him until he too must balance and creep. His hands closed on her shoulders and pulled her to him in mutual support. Gordon. There. You all right? I think so. Her voice was weak. The phoenix. Wivalda Steadying herself against him she tried to look around. The place which had once been a narrow room, then a balcony was now a perch above stomach-turning space. The hall of the oval mirrors was gone. Having disappeared into a hollow veiled by a vapor which boiled and bubbled as if far below, some huge cauldron hung above a blazing fire. Karla cried out and Ross drew her back from that drop. He was clear-headed now and looked about for some way down from this doubtful perch. Of the other two phoenixes there was no sign. Had they been sucked up and out in the infernal they had created another unleashing of energy against the Baldy's installation? Ross? Look! Karla's cry her up-flung arm directed his attention along. Under the sullen gathering of the storm a spear arose as a bubble might seek the surface of a pool before breaking. A ship, a Baldy's ship taking off from the ruined citadel so some of the enemy had survived that trial of strength. The globe was small a scout used for within atmosphere exploration Ross judged. It arose first and then moved inland fleeing the gathering storm to be out of sight in moments. The inland where the mountain base of the invaders was reputed to be retreating or bound together reinforcement. Baldy's Karla asked Yes. Ross wiped her hand across her face smearing dust and grime on her cheeks. As raindrops patterned about them Ross drew the girl with him into the alcove where ice sheltered with a philana. The cow's alien was setting up her hand still gripping one of the wands. Now a half melted ruin. Ice glanced at them as if for the first time he remembered they might be there. Baldy's ship just took off inland. Ross told him. We didn't see either of the other philana. They have gone to do what is to be done. Ice's companion replied. So some of the enemy fled. Well, perhaps they have learned one lesson not to meddle with others devices. Oh, so much gone. Which will ever come again never again. She held up the half melted ruin, turned it back and forth before her before she casted it away. It flew out, up then dropped into the cauldron of the hall which had been. A gust of rain, cold, chilling the lightly clad taren swept across them. The philana was helped to her feet by ice. For a moment she turned slowly giving a lingering look to the ruins. Then she spoke. Broken stone holds no value. Take hands, my brothers, my sister, it is time we go hence. Care was hand in Ross's right, ashes in his left and both linked to Vivalda in turn. Then they were indeed elsewhere in a courtyard where bodies lay flackered under the drenching down for the rain and moving among those bodies were the two other philana bending to examine one man after another. Perhaps over one in three they so inspected, they held concentration before a wand was used in tracing certain portions of the body between them. When they were finished, the man stirred, moaned, showed signs of life once more. Ross from behind a tumulted wall crept a abacquan who did not wear the guard armor of the others. Gilpac, flippers, divers built, had been stripped from him. There was a bleeding gas down the side of his face and he held his left arm against his body supported by his right hand. Vivalda Coo, the rover pulled himself up to his feet and stood slain. Ross reached him quickly to catch him as he slunk forward. Loka, the ternat. The woman killers took him. Somehow the rover got that out as Ross half supported, half led him to where the Polana were gathering those they had been able to revive. They wanted to learn Melaku was obviously making a great effort to tell his story about, about where we came from, where we got the packs. So now they will know of us or will if they get the story out of Loka. Ash worked with Ross to splint the rover's broken arm. How many of them were there, Beliku? The rover's head moved slowly from side to side. I do not know in truth it is, was like a dream. I was in the water swimming through the sea gate. Then suddenly I was in another place where those from the stars waited about me. They had our packs and belts and these they showed us demanding to know where of these were. Lokath was like one deep in sleep and they left him so when they questioned me. Then there came a great noise and the floor under a shook lightning flashed through the air. Two of the women killers ran from the room and all of them were greatly excited. They took up Lokath and carried him away with him, with their packs and other things. And I was left alone though I could not move as if they had left me in a net I could not see. More and more were the flashes. Then one of those slayers of women stood in the doorway. He raised his hand and my feet were free but I could not move otherwise than to follow after him. We came along a hall and into this court where men stood although stones fell from the walls upon some of them and the ground shook. Baldy's coos voiced through shriller his words ran together. The one who pulled me after him by his will. He cried out and put his hands to his hand back and forth he ran bumping into the standing men and once running into a wall as if he were blinded and then he was gone and I was alone. There was more falling stone and one struck my shoulder so I was thrown to the ground. There I lay until you came so few out of many so few one of the slayers stood beside them her cloak streaming with the falling rain and for these she faced the lines of those they had not revived. There was no chance they died as helplessly as if they went into a meeting of swords with their arms bound to their sides. Evil have we wrought here. I shook his head. Evil has been wrought here while I am but not by your seeking and those who died here helplessly may be only a small portion of those yet to be sacrificed. Have you forgotten slaughter at Kyanad and those other fairings for women and children were also struck down to for some purpose we do not even yet know. Lady, great one, Balakoo struggled to set up and Ross slipped an arm behind him in aid. She for whom I made a bride cup was meet for them at Kyanad along with many others. If these slayers are not put to the sword's edge there will be other fairings so used and these shadow ones possess magic to draw men to them helplessly to be killed. Great one, you have powers. All men know that when and wave obey your call. Do you now use your magic? It is better to fall with the power we know than answer such spells as those killers have netted about the men here. This is one weapon which they shall not use again while Valda rose from a stone rock where she had been setting and perhaps in its way it was one of the most dangerous but in defeating yet we have by so much weakened ourselves also and the strong place of these dark men lies not on the coast but inland. They will be warned by those who fled this place. Wind and wave, yes, those have served our purpose in the past but now perhaps we have found that which our power is. Only for this her gesture was for the runes of the citadel and the dead there shall be a payment exacted to the height of our desire. Whether the phoenix did have any control over the storm winds or not the present deluge appeared not to accommodate them. The dazed injured survivors of the courtyard were brought to shelter in some of the reminders of the wrecker force which had earlier be seized to keep than those survivors but within hours some of those who had served the phoenix were generations returned and the phoenix themselves opened the sea gates so that the rover cruisers anchored in the small bay below their ruined walls. A small force and one ill-equipped to go up against the baldy some five star men's bodies had been found in the citadel but the ship had gone off to warn their base. The rosses think in the advantage still lay with the invaders but the avaca-keans refused to accept the idea that the odds were against them. As soon as the storm blew out its force, ongo's cruiser headed northwest to other clan parings where the rovers could claim kinship and a fukta sailed on the same air in south while some of the ravers were released to carry the warning to their lords just how great a force could be gathered through such means and how effective it would be was a question to make the terrens uneasy. Kierwa disappeared with the phoena into the surviving interclip burrows below the citadel but Ash and Ross remained with Torgul and his officers striving to bring organization out of the chaos about them. We must know just where their lair lies, Torgul stated the obvious the mountains you believe and they can fly in skyships to and from that point. Well, he spread out a chart. Here are the mountains on this island running so. An army marching hither could be sighted from skyships. Also there are many mountains which is the one or ones we must seek. It may take many tens of days to find that place while they will always know where we are. Watch us from above. Prepare for our coming. Again Ross mentally paid tribute to the captain's quick grasp of essentials. You have a solution captain, Ash asked. There's a river here Torgul said reflectively perhaps I think in terms of water because I am a sailor. But here it does run and for this far along it our cruisers may ascend. He pointed with his finger tip. This lies however in Glickless land and he is now the mightiest of the record lords. His sword always drawn against us. I do not believe that we could talk him into Glickless. Ross interrupted they both looked at him inquiringly and he repeated Locust story of the record lord who had had dealings with a voice from the bounty and so gained the wrecking devices to make him the dominant lord of the district. So Torgul exclaimed that is the evil of this shadow in the mountains. No under those circumstances I do not think we shall talk Glickless into furthering any raid against those who have made him great over his fellows. Rather will he turn against us in our cause. And if we do not use the cruisers up the river Ash con the map then perhaps a small party or parties working over land could strike the stream here near to the uplands. Torgul frowned at the map. I do not think so. Even small parties moving in that direction would be sighted by Glickless people. The more so if they had it inland he will not wish to share his secrets with others. But say a party of Fulana The captain glanced up swiftly to the river Ash with the keen regard. Then he would not dare No, I am sure he would not dare to interfere. Not yet had he risen high enough to turn the hook of his sword against them, but would the Fulana do so? If not the Fulana then others wearing like robes as said slowly. Others wearing like robes repeated Torgul but his frown was heavy. No man would take on the guise of the Fulana. He would be blasted by their power for so doing. If the Fulana will lead us in their persons then we shall follow gladly knowing that their magic will be with us. There is also this, Ross broke in. The Baldies had the Gilpaks they took from Balakoo and Loka and they had Loka. They will want to learn more about us. We hope that the Citadel would provide to draw them and it did. That our plan for a trap there was spoiled was ill fortune. But I am sure that if the Baldies believe we are coming to them they will hold off an all out attack against our march hoping to gather us in intact. They'd risk that. Ask not it. I agree. We are the unknown they must solve now. And this much I am sure of. The future of this world and her people promises on a very narrow line of choice. It is my hope that such a choice is still to be made. Torgals smile thinly. We live in perilous times when the shades require our swords to go up against the shadow. This concludes the reading of chapter 17. Key out of time by Andre Norton Chapter 18. The final chapter. This is a LibriVox recording. LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by RJ Davis. Key out of time by Andre Norton Chapter 18 World in Doubt The day was dolly overcast as all days had been since they had begun this sulk and march penetration into the mountain territory. Ross could not accept the idea that the Polanna might actually command wind and wave, storm and sun, as the Abacca kins firmly believed. But the gloomy weather had favored them so far. And now they reached the last breathing point before they took the plunge into the heart of the enemy country. About the way in which they were to make that plunge, Ross had his own plan. One he did not intend to share with or care while, though he had had to outline it to one now waiting here with him. This is still your mind, younger brother? He did not turn his head to look at the cloaked figure. It is still my mind. Ross could be firm on that point. The Terran backed out of the bandage place from which he had been studying the canyon-like valley, cupping the Baldy spaceship. Now he got to his feet and faced by land. His own gray cloak bellowing out in the wind to reveal the rover-scale armor underneath. You can do it for me? He asked in turn. During the past days, the Foyanna had admitted that the weird battle within the citadel had weakened and limited their magic. Last night they had detected a force barrier ahead and to transport the whole party through that by teleporting was impossible. Yes, you alone. Then my wand would be drained for a space, but what can you do within their hold? Save me meat for their taking. There cannot be too many of them left there. That's a small ship. They lost five at the citadel and the rovers have three prisoners. No sign of the scout ship we know they have. So more of them must be gone in it. I won't be facing an army. And what they have in the way of weapons may be powered by installations in the ship. A lot of damage done there. Or even if the ship lifted, he was not sure of what he could do. This was a venture depending largely on improvisation at the last moment. You propose to send off the ship? I don't know whether that is possible. No, perhaps I can only attract their attention. Break through the force shield so the rest may attack. Ross knew that he must attempt this independent action. That in order to remain the Ross Murdoch he had always been, he must be an actor, not a spectator. The Poana did not argue with him now. Where? Her long sleeve rippled as she gestured to the canyon. Do as the skies were overhead there was light here. Too much light for his purpose as the ground about the ship was open. To appear there might be fatal. Ross was grasped by another and much more promising idea. The Poana had transported them all to the deck of Torgor's cruiser after asking him to picture it for her middle. And to all outward appearances the baldy ship before them now was twinned to the one which had taken him once on a fantastic voyage across a long vanished stellar empire. Such a ship he knew. Can you put me in the ship? If you have a good memory of it yes. But how know you these ships? I was in one once for many days. If these are alike then I know it well. And if this is unlike to try such may mean your death. He had to accept her warning. Yet outwardly this ship was a duplicate. And before he had buoyed on a derelict he had also explored a wreck flayer on his own world thousands of years before his own race had evolved. There was one portion of both ships which had been identical. Safe for size and that part was the best for his purpose. Send me here. With closed eyes Ross produced a metal picture of the control cabin. It really seats but webbing support swinging before banks of buttons and levers. All the other installations he had watched studied until they were as known to him as the plate bulkheads of the cabin below in which he had slept. Very vivid that memory. He felt the touch of the phoenix cool fingers on his forehead. Then it was gone. He opened his eyes. No more wind and gloom. The pilot's web slung facing a vista plate and rose a control. Just as he had stood so many times in the derelict he had made it. This was a control room of the spacer and it was alive. The faint thrumming in the air the play of light on the boards. Ross pulled the crown of the phoenix cloak up over his head. He had had days to accustom himself to the bulk of the robe but still his swathings were sometimes a hindrance rather than a help. Slowly he turned. There were no baldies here but the well door to the lower levels was open and from it came small sounds echoing up the communication letter. The ship was occupied. Not for the first time since he had started on this venture Ross wastes for more complete information. Doubtless several of those buttons or levers before him control devices could be the greatest aid to him now. But which and how he did not know. Once in just such a cabin he had meddled and in activating a long silent installation had called the attention of the baldies to their wrecked ship to the Terran's looting it. Only by the mere chance had the avengers of the stellar spacemen following them on the Russian investigators and not on his own people. He knew better than to touch the thing before the pilot's station. But the banks of controls to one side were concerned with the inner well-being of the ship and they tempted him. To go at blind was, however, more of a risk than he dared take. There was one future precaution for him. From a very familiar case beside the pilot's seat Ross gathered up a collection of discs sorted through them hastily for one which bore a certain symbol of discovery. There was only one of these. Slapping the rest back into their container Ross pressed a button on the control board. Again his guests paid off. Another disc was exposed as a small panel slid back. Ross clawed that out of the holder put in its place the one he had found. Now if his choice had been correct the crew took off in this ship unless they checked the root tape first would find themselves heading to another primitive planet and not returning to base. Perhaps exhaustion of fuel might ground them past hope of ever regaining their home port again. Next to damaging the ship which he could not do. This was the best thing to ensure that any enemy leaving a vaca key would not speedily return with a second expeditionary force. Ross dropped the root disc he had taken out into a pocket on his belt to be destroyed when he had the chance. Now he can't put it across the deck to look into the well and listen. The walls glowed with diffused light. From here the aterian could count at least four levels under him with perhaps another. The bottom two ought to be supplies and general storage. Then the engine room, tech labs above and next to the control room through the fabric of the ship shivering up his body from the soles of his feet he could feel the vibration of engines at work. One sits must control the force field which rang this canyon. Perhaps even powered to weapons and invaders could turn against any assault. Ross whirled about. His plan a cloak in a wide swing. There was one control which he knew. Yes, again the board was the same as the one he was familiar with. His hand plants out and down. Wrecking the lever from one major point to the very end of the slit in which it moved. Many planted himself with his back to the wall. Whoever came up the well hunting the cause of the failure would be facing the other way. Ross craft a little, pushing the cape well back on his shoulders to free his arms. There was a feline suppleness in his stance just as a jungle cat might wait coming of his prey. What he heard was a shout below. The click of foot gear on the rungs of the level ladder. Ross' lips threw back in a snarl which was also feline. He thought that would do it. Spacemen were ultra sensitive to any failure in air flow. White head, bare of any hair, thin shoulders, a little hunched under the blue-green lavator stuff of the Baldy's uniforms. Head turning now so that the eyes could see the necessary switch. An explanation from the alien end, but the Baldy never had a chance to complete that turn. Look behind him. Ross sprang and struck with the side of his hand. The hairless head snapped forward. His hands already hooked in the other's armpits to tear and ease the alien up and over onto the deck of the control cabin. It was only when he was about to bind his captive that Ross discovered the Baldy was dead. A blow calculated to stun the alien had been too severe. Breathing a little faster, the tearing rolled the body back and hoisted it into the navigator's swing seat. Fastening it with the takeoff belt. One down, how many left? He had little time to wonder. For before he could reach the well once again, there was a call from below, sharp and demanding. The tearing searched his victim, but the Baldy was unarmed. Again a shout. Then silence. Too complete a silence. How could they have guessed trouble so quickly? Unless? Unless the Baldy's mental communication had been at work. They might even now know their fellow was dead. But not how he died. Ross was prepared to grant the Baldy's super tearing abilities. But he did not see how they could know what had happened here. They could only suspect danger. Not know the form it had taken. And sooner or later one of them must come to adjust the switch. This could be a duel of patience. Ross squatted at the edge of the well trying to make his ears supply him with hints of what might be happening below. Had there been an alteration in the volume of vibration? He said his palm flat on the deck, tried to deduce the truth. But he could not be sure that there had been some slight change he was certain. They could not wait much longer without making an attempt to reopen the air supply regulator. Or could they? Again Ross was hampered by the lack of information. Perhaps the Baldy did not need the same amount of oxygen his own kind depended upon. And if that were true, Ross could be the first to suffer in playing a waiting game. Well, air was not the only thing he could cut off from here. Though it had been the first and most important to his mind, Ross hesitated. Two-edged weapons cut in both directions. But he had to force a counter move from them. He pulled another switch. The control room, the hole of the ship was plunged into darkness. No sound from below this time. Ross pictured the interior layout of the ships he had known. Two levels down to reach the engine room. Could he descend undetected? There was only one way to test that. Try it. He pulled the phoenix cloak about him. Where several rungs down on the ladder when the glow in the walls came on. An emergency switch? With a forward scramble, Ross swung into one of the radiating side quarters. The sliding door panels along it were all closed. He could detect no sounds behind them. But the vibration in the ship's walls had returned to its steady beat. Now the Terran realized the folly of his move. He was more securely trapped here than he had been in the control cabin. There was only one way out. Up or down the ladder. And the enemy could have that under observation from below. The shadow was to use a flamer or a paralyzing ray, such as the one he had turned over to ash several days ago. Ross hanced along to the stairwell. A faint pad of movement, a shadow of sound from the ladder. Someone on the way up. Could they mentally detect him? Know him for an alien intruder by the broadcast of his thoughts? The ballies had a certain respect for the poena and might desire to take one alive. He drew the robe about him, using it to muffle his figure completely as a true wearer did. But the figure pulling painfully up from rung to rung was no baldy. The lean of vacacan arms, the thin of vacacan face drawn a feature, painfully blank of expression, locust. Under the same dread spell as it held the warriors in the Citadel courtyard. Could the aliens be using this of vacacan captive as a defense shield moving up behind him? Locust's head turned. Those blank eyes regarded Ross. And their depths were troubled, recognition of a short returning. The vacacan threw up one hand in a beseeching gesture and then went to his knees in the corridor. Great one, great one! The words came from his lips and breathly hiss as he groveled. Then his body went flackered and his frauds faced down. His twisted leg drawn up as if he would run but could not. Poana! The one word came out of the walls themselves. Or so it seemed. Poana! The wise learned what lies before them when they walked alone in the dark. The vacacan's speech was stilted, accented, but understandable. Ross stood motionless. Had they somehow seen him through Locust's eyes? Or had they been alerted merely by the vacacan's call? They believed he was one of the Poana. Will? He could play that row. Poana! Sharper this time demanding. You lie in our hand. Let us clasp the fingers tightly and you shall be not. Out of somewhere, Royrd's Carrera, as chanted in the Poana Temple, came to Ross. Not in her Polynesian tongue, but in the English she had repeated. And softening his voice to his best approximation of the Poana sing-song, Ross sang. Ye forty thousand gods. Ye gods of sea of sky of stars. He improvised. Ye elders of the gods that are. Ye gods that once were. Ye that whisper. Yet that watch by night. Ye that show your gleaming eyes. Poana! The summons was on the ragged edge of patience. Your tricks will not move our mountains. Ye gods of mountains, Ross returned, of valleys, of shades, and not the shadow. He wove in the beliefs of this world too. Walk now this world his confidence was growing and there was no use in remaining pent in this quarter. He would have to chance that they were not prepared to kill summarily one of the Poana. Ross went to the well, went down the ladder slowly keeping his robe about him. Here at the next level there was a wider space about the opening and three door panels. Behind one must be those he sought. He was buoyed up by a curious belief in himself. Almost as if wearing this robe did give him in part the power attributed to the Poana. He laid his hand on the door to his right and sent it snapping back into his frame, stepped inside as if he entered here by right. There were three baldies. To his tearing 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 tear along for one of the Poana's staffs and the ability to use it. To spray that energy about this cavern might reduce the baldy defenses to nothing. But now two of the paralyzing tubes were trained on him. You have come to us, Poana. What have you to offer? Demanded the commander that was his rank. Offer? For the first time Ross spoke. There is no reason for the Poana to make any offer, slayer of women and children. You have come from the stars to take. But that does not mean we choose to give. He felt it now that inner pulling twisting in his mind the willing which was a more subtle weapon. Once they had almost bent him because then he had worn their livery. A space suit taken from the wreck freighter. Now he did not have that chink in his defense. And all that stubborn independence and determination to be himself alone resisted the influence with a fierce inner fire. We offer life to you, Poana. Freedom of the stars. These other dirt creepers are nothing to you. Why take you weapons in their cause? You are not of the same race. Nor are you. Ross's hands moved under the envelope of the robe, unloosing the two hidden clasps which held it. That bank had controls before with the commander set. To silence that would cause trouble. And he depended upon why land. The rovers should now be masked at either end of the canyon waiting for the force field to fail and let them in. Ross steadied himself poised for action. We have something for you, star men. He tried to hold their attention with words. Have you not heard of the power of the Poana? That they can command wind and wave? That they can be where they were not in a single movement of the eyelid? And this is so. Behold. It was the oldest trick in the world perhaps on any planet. But because it was so old maybe it had been forgotten by the aliens. For as Ross pointed, those heads did turn for an instant. He was in the air, the robe gathered in his arms widespread as bat wings. And when they crashed in a tangle which bore them all back against the controls, Ross strove to a mess them in the robe using the pressure of his body to slam them all on the buttons and levers of the board. For as long as his purpose he could not tell, but that he had only those few seconds torn out of time to try he knew and determined to use them as best he could. One of the baldies had slithered down to the floor and another was aiming strangely ineffectual blows at him. But the third had wiggled free to bring up a paralyzer. Ross slewed around, dragging the alien he held across his body and fired. But though the fighter went limp and heavy in Ross's hold, the Terran's whole right arm fell to his side. His upper chest was numb and his head felt as if one of the rovers' boarding-axes had clipped in. Ross reeled back and fell, his left hand raking down the controls as he went. Then he lay on the club and pour and saw the convulsed face of the commander above him, in his middle. To breathe was an effort Ross found torture to endure. The red haze in his head filled all the world, pain. He strove to flee the pain but was held captive in it and always the pressure on him kept that agony steady. Let be, he wanted to scream that, perhaps he had, but the pressure continued. Then he forced his eyes open, ash, in one of the phenomena bending over him. Ash's hands on his chest pressing, relaxing, pressing again. It is good, he heard Waibald's voice. Her hand rested lightly on his forehead and from that touch Ross drew again the quickening of body and spirit he had felt on the dancing floor. How? He began and then changed to where, for this was not the engine room of the spacer. He lay in the open with sweet rain wet wind filling his starved lungs now without ash's forsade. It is over, ash told him, all over for now. But not until the sun reached the canyon hours later and they sat in council did Ross learn all the tale. Just as he had made his own plan for reaching the spacer so had ash, carawa and the dolphins worked on a similar attempt. The river running deep in those mountains gorgeous had provided a road for the dolphins and they found beneath its surface an entrance past the force barrier. The baldies were so sure of their superiority on this primitive world they set no guard save that field, ash explained. We slipped through five swimmers to reach the ship and then the field went down thanks to you. It did help that much Ross grinned wildly what had he proved by his sortie nothing much but he was not sorry he had made it for the very fact he had made it on his own had eased in part that small ache which was in him now when he looked at ash and remembered how it had once been. Ash might be always would be his friend but the old tight locking comradeship of the project was behind him vanished like the time gate and what will you do with them Ross nodded towards the captives the three from the ship two more taken from the small scouting globe which had home to find their enemies ready for them we wait Waivalda said for those on the rover ship to be brought hither by our laws they deserve death the rovers out that cancel nodded vigorously all say Torgel and Jazzia the rover woman spoke first they bear the curse of Fugtka heavy on them to live under such a curse is worse than a clean quick dine listen it has come upon me that better this curse not only eat them up but be carried by them to rot those who sent them together the fauna nodded there has been enough of killing said why lamb no warriors we do not say this because we shrink from rightful death but Jazzia speaks the truth in this matter let these depart perhaps they will bear that with them which will convince their leaders that this is not a world they may squeeze in their hands as one crushes a white quawa to eat its seeds you believe in their cursing rovers then let the fruit of it be made plain beyond the stars was this the time to speak of the switch tapes Ross wondered no he did not really believe that the rover curse or their treatment of the captain's would either one influence the star leaders but if the invaders did not return to their base their vanishing might also work to keep another expedition from invading a vacaquean skies leave it to chance a curse and time so it was decided have we won Ross asked us later do you mean have we changed the future who can answer that they may return in force this may have been a step which was taken before those pylons may still stand in the future above a deserted sea and island we shall probably never know that was also their own truth for them also there had been a substitution of journey tapes by fate and this was now their a vacaquean Ross Murdock Gordon Ashe Carrera Trehearne Tina Ross Tile five Terran's forever lost in time in the past with a dubious future would this be the bare and lotus world or another now either they had found their key to the mystery out of time but they could not turn it and there was no key to the gate which it ceased to exist grass tight the present Ross looked about him yes the present which might be very satisfying after all this includes a reading of the final chapter 18 of Andre Norton's key out of time