Free Mutiny in Space by Avram Davidson

outlaws. One of them moved forward, disclosing that it was a black robe and not a coat of mail that she wore. Jory realized, with some surprise, that this was the first
old
woman he had seen. And Nelsa asked, “What does the priestess say?”
    The old woman nodded her head several times, then began to speak in the same singsong tone in which Little Joe, Rahan, had recited his old tales to Captain Rond.
    “The great bird slays her dam,”
she quavered,
“Heaven and Earth burn, the Great Men dwell in the Land, ruling in equity
. …
”
Her head nodded and nodded. It was undoubtedly a quotation.
    “Be it so,” said Nelsa. “We’ll camp here. No fires.”
    • • •
    That night, having set the guard-wires, Jory went to have a final word with Rond. He hoped, he said, that his suggestion about the outlaws had been the right one. “At least, sir, we now have more of the Val people on our side.”
    But Rond seemed both tired and petulant. It came as somewhat of a shock for Jory to think,
He’s aging…
.
    “It’s just so many more people to slow us. down, Mr. Cane,” Rond complained. He listened, finally, to what Jory had to say. It was about the Holy King. Jory thought the King, Mukanahan, might be an answer to their problems. Suppose they were — somehow — to hold him as a hostage. Wouldn’t the Dame, or the Keeper, or any indigenous group or person, be willing to ransom him with borax — and time to make boron?
    To the Captain’s objection that the King was only a figurehead, Jory countered that therein lay the whole point: he was a
sacred
figurehead! A ruler was sure to have enemies. Dame Hanna … suppose they captured Dame Hanna? The result might well be only a palace revolution, or the uprising of some rival sept, setting or aiming to set in power another Dame. But the King, who reigned without ruling, had no enemies — had never had the opportunity to make any. His person was holy, he was a saint, a god. No desire which anyone of the Val people could have to see
Persephone’s
people punished could equal their desire to see their Holy King released.
    “It seems like a crack-brained scheme to me,” Rond said, getting out his warmcloak. “And I tell you what — we’ve got to pay more attention to the terrain. Keep an eye out for shale, for sandstone or limestone. No reason why petroleum deposits shouldn’t have formed on this planet.”
    “But, sir — ”
    “No reason at all. Good night.”
    O-Narra said, “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” To his surprised “why?” she made one of those indeterminate little noises peculiar to women, caressed his face with her fingers. “Nelsa was looking at you,” she murmured, at last. Jory laughed, spread the cloak around them.
    But the last voice he heard that night was Nelsa’s, after all.
    Clear and unmistakable it came through the darkness. “Dam?” she was asking someone. “Dam — or
Dame?
Who knows …”
    Who, indeed, Jory thought, sleepily.
    • • •
    At first he thought it was a drop of rain on his face, and moved to pull the cloak closer. His eyes opening, he realized that it was only dew. The time must be earliest morning, the light was muted and dim and the air misty gray. The trees shimmered and looked ghostly. A smell of woodfires and food reminded him of last night’s cold supper and of stumbling around in the darkness. Nelsa’s directive had been a sensible one, but it would be little if any more comfort to be overtaken in the daytime. While he mused, he became suddently aware of voices, a hum of voices, far too many voices for the twenty or so of his and Moha’s party and the fifty-odd of Nelsa’s.
    O-Narra was still asleep, her hair looking ash-blond in the half-light. Gently, he drew apart, tucked the cloak in around her, and stood up. At once, the voices rose to a shout; abruptly died away.
    They were surrounded.
    There must have been close to two hundred of them, and almost all were men. The noise awakened one of the crew —