Sword of the Seven Suns: Gardner F. Fox SF Collection (Illustrated). Gardner F. Fox
man, too. If you and I were to learn the secret of the Force—instead of Black Randolph—"
The Viking throwback laughed. "What you mean to say, beautiful, is that you think I'd be easier to manage than Black Randolph—once we got to be kings."
She slapped him hard across the face, and her face writhed in passion. She whispered, "For that you'll go to my torture-knives, you passat!"
Grim laughed, "Don't play it so thick, Red. A woman only gets as mad as that when a man turns her down because she isn't intriguing enough—not because he won't go spacebad with her."
Althaya laughed harshly. Her green eyes approved him. Her bare shoulders lifted casually.
Grim said, "But while we're on the subject, what is the force that makes the change?"
"Kohonnes does it. He is the god of all this world."
"Is he a man? A beast? What?"
She shook her red head. "Kohonnes is made of metal. He has a thousand eyes that glow. He—"
"A machine," mused Grim. "But what kind of a machine does what this one will? And—who operates it?"
"Kohonnes. I do not know what a machine is, but Kohonnes is the All. He—"
Grim laughed, "How do you intend to steal a god?"
Althaya looked troubled. She said, "Black Randolph will know ... and that reminds me. He will want to see you."
* * * * *
Black Randolph went hysterical when he saw Grim. He threw back his head and roared. He slapped his hand against his thigh, making a sharp, flat sound. Tears of mirth sprang from his deep-sunk eyes.
He came across the tiled floor of the room to stand spraddle-legged before Grim, hands slammed into lean hips. His thin lips twitched amusedly.
"So you found me at last, Thorssen! You've come to the end of your eight-year trail. Congratulations! Too bad you aren't going back to Unions Council. You could tell 'em you're the only Fleet man ever to meet Black Randolph face to face."
Fury and hate seethed in the man's face. He brought his hard palm flat against Grim's cheek. "For eight years you've hounded me, Thorssen. You never caught me, but you smashed my empire. One by one—from Antares to Betelgeuse—you got my best men. But you'll suffer for it. Oh Lord, how you'll suffer!"
Black Randolph's eyes flickered when they brought Tlokine in. He grinned at her, running his eyes over her lissome body. He chuckled, "Too bad she has to go on your altar, Red. I could use that myself."
Althaya went white. She whispered sibilantly, "My patience is strained already. See that you don't test it further."
The pirate laughed, slid an arm around her waist and drew her against him. He laughed, "Once we get that force in our hands, Red—I'll make you a goddess as I promised. What about that, Thorssen? Imagine Black Randolph with that force all his own—free to roam between the stars, in the spacelanes—dictate my own terms to Unions Council or smash their ships! It was my lucky day when I spacewrecked on this planet."
Grim laughed coldly, "You can't kidnap a god, you scum."
"A god! Bah! I've lived here long enough to learn things. Haven't you wondered where all these people came from? Why they speak archaic English? Look at this!"
His hand on Althaya's shoulder slid the short jacket down to bare a tattoo mark on her white flesh. He grinned as she angrily shrugged the jacket into place. "Medical cases. Amnesiac spaceshock. Memories gone. Speech centers sound. Body normal. Perfect specimens to populate a new planet.
"Who brought 'em here, Thorssen? Not a god!"
The pirate laughed huskily. "Althaya and I—we're making them into our people. People to attack Kohonnes and get his secret. It's really too bad for you. You might join us instead of spending a week on her altar under the best torture-knives she owns. You'll be begging for death before the first day is over. And there'll be seven more of 'em, Thorssen—a day of agony for each of the years you've hounded me. Eight years, eight days."
Althaya clapped her hands. Big men, naked to their waists that were covered with twisted loin-clothes, padded in on bare soles. Althaya said, "Take them to the cells. Tomorrow at dawn, bring them to Kohonnes' altar. We will make a sacrifice to the All."
* * * * *
The rising sun was tinting the flat onyx altar with red stains when they put Grim on it. His ankles and his wrists were lashed so tightly that the skin was puffy and swollen around the cording. Staring upward, the Viking throwback saw an outcropping lip of blackish basalt hanging like a sea-wave caught in stone right above him. A weirdly bent tree dropped wire-like branches toward him, from which hung triangular red leaves.
Beneath the altar, and all around this rostrum of stone, was a scarlet marker. By craning his head beyond Althaya and Randolph, who stood rubbing his hands together and gloating, Grim could see the crimson band.
"I hope your voice is in good shape, Thorssen," chuckled the pirate. "I want to hear you yell loud and long. I've waited a long time for this!"
Althaya clapped her hands abruptly, and a big man with a broken nose flat against his face and tiny eyes that glittered cruelly stepped forward. A thin knife, curved and barbed, was in his right hand. The redhead said, "They are bringing Tlokine now. When she is here—commence, Tagat."
They crowded around the altar, waiting. Grim could see the tense, excited faces. Randolph craned forward, a muscle in his cheek dancing with eagerness. Althaya licked at her crimson mouth with her tongue. And beyond them, among the leather-jerkined men-at-arms, Tlokine stared with horrified eyes from her pale white face.
Tagat grinned and brought the knife down. Almost tenderly he placed the razor-like edge to Grim's naked ribs. He looked slyly up at Althaya.
Randolph cried hoarsely, "Hurry up! Waiting is as much torture to me as that knife is going to be to him."
Althaya said dryly, "Begin, Tagat."
The knife moved—
"Wait!"
Althaya stood rigid, looking down at Grim. He saw her green eyes widen dreamily. She whispered, "Kohonnes is sending his breath out across the world. Soon now the Change will come."
"So what?" rasped big Randolph, hands working furiously, his fingers opening and closing. "We're all on this red-marked island. It won't hurt us."
Althaya shook her head. "Not while the god is breathing. No. We can wait!"
The black sea-like curve of rock above Grim was altering. It lost its concave outlines; shimmered, and grew thin and tall, like an ebony finger pointing skywards. And the tree on it was a tree no more, but a green vine clinging to its sides and drooping white blossoms across its black edges.
Althaya and Randolph withdrew from the altar; went higher on the rockside. Grim stared at the changes working all around him. Not far away was another red-marked island. Between the altar island and that other, the ground lifted and fell restlessly.
Tlokine came toward the altar, her guards drawing back and away from the change.
Grim whispered, "Can you stand pain?"
"Pain? No, I hate it. When the knife touches me—"
"I don't mean that. I have an idea. I'm going to be tortured anyhow, but I'd rather make a break for freedom than—"
Tlokine laughed incredulously, "They would shoot you down, even if you were free to run. And you're not. You're bound."
Grim laughed harshly, "No time to argue—follow me!"
He rolled off the altar. He hit the sloping rock beneath it with a thud that jarred his bones, but he kept on rolling. He went down the slope to the red marker—
He went by the marker, and the Change caught his ropes and twisted them into upright snakes that writhed in queer formations. It bent him forward, knotted