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change her appearance subtly. He found himself striving
tensely to discover just what was the form of that new
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r r
difference. And couldn't.
Realization came more sharply this time that he was
staring at her again. He thought: Watch out, you incredible
idiot. This is not just a woman. But it was hard to grasp
that, harder still to follow its implications, except 
Watch out! The cautioning thought brought a vague quaver
of alarm, the knowledge that he couldn't go on being
'strange,' and that he mustn't remain silent any longer.
'So you would like me to launch a fake attack on Nushir-
van?' He couldn't go on. For the first time he realized what
she had said. He grew quiet. He could almost feel himself
absorbing the possibilities. He thought finally: 'It could be
so easy.'
The goddess was saying in a bell-like voice: ' I will send
the messengers announcing that you and your staff will
leave for the front tomorrow. All temples will be com-
manded to hold their forces at your call, and to prepare for
housing and handling of transient soldiers. The great cen-
tral stock of food and munitions will start moving to the
front by every available means. The important thing in
launching the attack is to convince everybody that a vast
war is being waged, and at the same time to make sure that
the known rebels are assigned to the left flank, where they
can be cut off by the outlaws, and destroyed in the volcanic
marshes and mountains that dominate hundreds and hun-
dreds of square kanbs in that region. But I will show you in
a minute exactly what I mean  '
Holroyd heard every word, but not too clearly. He sat in
a gentle, personal haze of mind. There was joy in him, and
dislike so violent that it hurt his mind. There was an icy
rage, and there was pleasure. The pleasure came last be-
cause the other emotions promised to be more permanent,
but they couldn't match in intensity the diabolic happiness
that grew out of the proposal she was making: A false
attack on Nushirvan. O Diyan, O Kolla, O divine Rad! An
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r r
attack on Nushirvan under the auspices of the goddess, the
necessary preparations made without arousing any
suspicions anywhere.
The thought trailed. A slim white hand with pointing
finger was reaching across the table toward his head. 'Come
with me,' the goddess voice caressed, 'and I will show you.'
The finger hovered above his forehead. 'Hold your head
steady, and come with me.'
His impulse was to jerk back from he knew not what. But
he didn't dare. He had time for a bitter consciousness that
he should have remembered that this was a goddess, a
goddess possessing power so great that even L'onee, who
had been able to distort the very fabric of time was terrified
of her. The finger touched his forehead.
Come with me!
There was no change. The goddess looked at him, the
firm, creamy flesh around her eyes drawn into a frown.
'That's strange,' she said. 'I feel resis  ' She cut the
words with a deliberate click of her tongue. She sat back
then and stared at him in astonishment.
Holroyd found his voice. 'What's the matter?'
'Nothing, nothing.' She shook her head impatiently, and
it was as if she was trying to convince herself.
Holroyd waited. What she had expected to happen wasn't
clear. But the reason why it hadn't, was. Dim might be the
power of Ptath, compressed now into the personality of
Peter Holroyd, but that intimate combination of human and
god could not be treated as all human. Whatever she had
meant by commanding him to come with her, wherever she
had willed that they go, taking Ptath there and taking
Ineznio must, by the very nature of things, involve different
applications of her god power. He was about to be dis-
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r r
covered. He felt hot, then cold and terribly steady.
'Ineznio, what have you been doing since I saw you
last?'
The words were sharply spoken. Her eyes were glittering
at him with a sparkling intensity like dancing blue water
caught by a complication of sunbeams. It was hard to look
at her. Her face seemed lost in a mist of light; light that
pulsed and leaped. It seemed to have no source, but grew
out of the air around her.
'Since you last saw me!' Holroyd echoed, and his tone
was so cool that he felt a thrill. 'Let me think! First,' he
began, 'I went out into the garden. Returning I found
Mirow waiting to see me. I went with him to check the
Zard's treasure; then  '
He stopped. Her eyes had changed again. They were
round, cerulean pools shadowed like the sea under a sky
that had clouded, but with electric-blue sparks in their
depths. And those eyes were staring now, not at his face but
his hand. His left hand.
'Who gave you that?' she asked in a piercing tone. 'That
ring?'
'The ring,' said Holroyd. He stared at the dull shape too
astounded for a moment to say more. He caught his
faltering thought. He began: 'Why, it's just  '
He was cut off by laughter. A tinkle of sound it was, and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]