Chapter 24

They were a magnificent sight, those many cones pointing their skyscraping noses upward and their spreading landing struts sinking into the soft earth! Their white eternum metal gleamed in the sun, dazzling the spectator who happened to catch their radiance full in the eyes. They were glorious, embodying all the vast wisdom and skill of the greatest civilization of the Galaxy.

No wonder, thought Green, that I dance and howl while these people look at me as if I’m mad, and Amra, tears in her eyes, shakes her head and says something to herself. What can they know of the meaning of those splendors?

What, indeed?

“Hey,” shouted Green, “Hey! Here I am! An Earthman! Maybe I look like one of these barbarians, with my long hair and bushy beard and dirty skin, but I’m not. I’m Alan Green, an Earthman!”

Of course, they couldn’t have heard him at that distance, even if somebody had been standing beneath the spaceships to hear him. But he howled with sheer exuberance, not worrying about wasting his breath and making himself hoarse.

Finally Amra interrupted him.

“What is the matter, Alan? Have you been bitten by the Green Bird of Happiness, which sometimes flies over these plains? Or has the White Bird of Terror nipped you while you slept last night upon the open deck?”

Green paused and looked steadily at her. Could he tell her the truth, now he was so near salvation? It was not that he was worried about her or the others stopping him from making contact with the expedition. Nothing could stop him now, he was sure of that.

It was just that he hesitated to tell her that he would be leaving her. The idea of hurting her was agony to him.

He started to speak in English, caught himself, and switched to her language. “Those vessels--they have brought my people from across the space between the stars. I came to this world in just such a vessel, a spaceroller, you might say. My ship crashed, and I was forced to descend upon this--your--world. Then, I heard that another ship had landed near Estorya and that King Raussmig had put the crew in prison and was going to sacrifice them during the Festival of the Sun’s Eye. I had little time to get to Estorya before that happened, so I talked Miran into taking me. That was why I left you, that...”

He trailed off because he did not understand the expression upon her face. It was not the great hurt he’d expected, nor the wild fury he thought might result from his explanation. If anything, she looked pitying.

“Why, Alan, whatever are you talking about?”

He pointed at the line of spaceships.

“They’re from Terra, my home planet.”

“I don’t understand what you mean by your home planet,” she replied still pityingly. “But those are not spaceships. Those are the towers built by the Estoryans a thousand years ago.”

“Wha-what do you mean?”

Stunned, he looked at them again. If those weren’t starships he’d eat the yacht’s canvas. Yes, and the wheels, too.

Under the swift wind, the ‘roller swept closer and closer while he stood behind Amra and thought that he’d break into little pieces if his tension didn’t find some release.

Finally it did find an outlet. Tears welled in his eyes, and he choked. His breast seemed as if it would swell up and burst.

How cleverly the ancient builders had fashioned those towers! The landing struts, the big fins, the long sweeping lines ending in the pointed nose, all must have been built with a spaceship as a model. There was no escaping such a conclusion; coincidence couldn’t explain it.

Amra said, “Don’t cry, Alan. Your people will think you weak. Captains don’t weep.”

“This captain does,” he replied, and he turned and walked the length of the yacht to the stern and leaned over the taffrail where no one could see him as he shook with sobs.

Presently he felt a hand upon his.

“Alan,” she said gently. “Tell me the truth. If those had been ships on which you could leave this world and travel into the skies, would you have taken me along? Were you still thinking that I was not--not good enough for you?”

“Let’s not talk about it now,” he said. “I can’t. Besides, there are too many people listening. Later, when everybody’s asleep.”

“All right, Alan.”

She released his hand and left him alone, knowing that that was what he wanted. Mentally, he thanked her for it, because he knew what it was costing her to exercise restraint. At any other time, in a like situation, she would have thrown something at him.

After he had calmed down somewhat he returned to the helm and took over from Miran. From then on he was too busy to think much about his disappointment. He had to report to the port officer and tell his story, which took hours, for the officer called in the others to hear his amazing tale. And they questioned Miran and Amra. Green anxiously listened to the merchant’s account, fearful that the fellow would disclose his suspicions that Green was not what he claimed to be. If Miran had any such intentions, however, he was saving them for their arrival in Estorya itself.

The officers all agreed that they had heard many wonderful stories from sailors but never anything to match this. They insisted upon giving a banquet for Miran and Green. The result was that Green got a much-needed and desired bath, hair cut and shave. But he also had to endure a long feast in which he had to stuff himself to keep from offending his hosts and also was forced to enter a drinking contest with some of the younger blades of the post. His Vigilante could handle enormous amounts of food and alcohol, so that Green appeared to the soldiers to be something of a superman. At midnight the last officer had dropped his head upon the table, dead drunk, and Green was able to get up and go to his yacht.

Unfortunately he had to carry the fat merchant out on his shoulders. Outside the banquet room he found a few rickshaw boys standing around a fire, huddled together, waiting for a customer so drunk he wouldn’t fear thieves or ghosts. He gave one of them a coin and told him to deliver Miran to the yacht.

“What about yourself, honored sir? Don’t you wish to ride home, too?”

“Later,” said Green, looking up past the fort and at the hills behind it. “I intend to take a walk to clear my head.”

Before the rickshaw men could question him further he plunged into the darkness and began striding swiftly toward the highest peak upon the island.

Two hours later he suddenly appeared in the moonlight-drenched windbreak, walked past the many vessels tied down for the night and crawled aboard his own yacht. A glance around the deck convinced him that everybody was sleeping. He stepped softly past the prostrate forms and lay down by Amra. Face up, his hands behind his head, he stared at the moon, a thoughtful expression upon his face.

Amra whispered, “Alan, I thought you were going to talk to me tonight.”

He stiffened but did not turn his head to look at her.

“I was, but the officers kept us up late. Didn’t Miran get here?”

“Yes, about five minutes before you did.”

He rose on one elbow and looked searchingly at her. “What?“

“Is there anything strange about that?”

“Only that he was so drunk he’d passed out and was snoring like a pig. The fat son of an izzot! He must have been faking! And he must have...”