can't tell you inwords what we have to say, but music is a language even you canunderstand. We can tell you what we want in music."
Frankle scowled. He knew about the magic of this music, he had heard ofthe witchcraft these weak chicken-people could weave, of their strange,magic power to steal strong men's minds from them and make them likechildren before wolves. But he had never heard this music with his ownears. He looked at them, his eyes strangely bright. "You know I cannotlisten to your music. It is forbidden, even you should know that. Howdare you propose--"
"But this is different music." Dana's eyes widened, and she threw anexcited glance at her husband. "Our music is beautiful, wonderful tohear. If you could only hear it--"
"Never." The man hesitated. "Your music is forbidden, poisonous."
Her smile was like sweet wine, a smile that worked into the Hunter'smind like a gentle, lazy drug. "But who is to permit or forbid? Afterall, you are the leader here, and forbidden pleasures are all thesweeter."
Frankle's eyes were on hers, fascinated. Slowly, with a gracefulmovement, she drew the gleaming thought-sensitive stone from herclothing. It glowed in the room with a pearly luminescence, and she sawthe man's eyes turning to it, drawn as if by magic. Then he looked away,and a cruel smile curled his lips. He motioned toward the stone. "Allright," he said mockingly. "Do your worst. Show me your precious music."
Like a tinkle of glass breaking in a well, the stone flashed its fierylight in the room. Little swirls of music seemed to swell from it,blossoming in the silence. Frankle tensed, a chill running up his spine,his eyes drawn back to the gleaming jewel. Suddenly, the music filledthe room, rising sweetly like an overpowering wave, filling his mindwith strange and wonderful images. The stone shimmered and changed,taking the form of dancing clouds of light, swirling with the music asit rose. Frankle felt his mind groping toward the music, tryingdesperately to reach into the heart of it, to become part of it.
Ravdin and Dana stood there, trancelike, staring transfixed at thegleaming center of light, forcing their joined minds to create thecrashing, majestic chords as the song lifted from the depths of oblivionto the heights of glory in the old, old song of their people.
A song of majesty, and strength, and dignity. A song of love, ofaspiration, a song of achievement. A song of peoples driven by ancientfears across the eons of space, seeking only peace, even peace withthose who drove them.
Frankle heard the music, and could not comprehend, for his mind couldnot grasp the meaning, the true overtones of those glorious chords, buthe felt the strangeness in the pangs of fear which groped through hismind, cringing from the wonderful strains, dazzled by the dancing light.He stared wide-eyed and trembling at the couple across the room, and foran instant it seemed that he was stripped naked. For a fleeting momentthe authority was gone from his face; gone too was the cruelty, theavarice, the sardonic mockery. For the briefest moment his cold grayeyes grew incredibly tender with a sudden ancient, long-forgottenlonging, crying at last to be heard.
And then, with a scream of rage he was stumbling into the midst of thelight, lashing out wildly at the heart of its shimmering brilliance. Hishuge hand caught the hypnotic stone and swept it into crashing,ear-splitting cacophony against the cold steel bulkhead. He stood rigid,his whole body shaking, eyes blazing with fear and anger and hatred ashe turned on Ravdin and Dana. His voice was a raging storm of bitternessdrowning out the dying strains of the music.
"Spies! You thought you could steal my mind away, make me forget my dutyand listen to your rotten, poisonous noise! Well, you failed, do youhear? I didn't hear it, I didn't listen, _I didn't_! I'll hunt you downas my fathers hunted you down, I'll bring my people their vengeance andglory, and your foul music will be dead!"
He turned to the guards, wildly, his hands still trembling. "Take themout! Whip them, burn them, do anything! But find out where their peoplehave gone. Find out! Music! We'll take the music out of them, once andfor all."
* * * * *
The inquisition had been horrible. Their minds had had no concept ofsuch horror, such relentless, racking pain. The blazing lights, thequestions screaming in their ears, Frankle's vicious eyes burning infrustration, and their own screams, rising with each question they wouldnot answer until their throats were scorched and they could no longerscream. Finally they reached the limit they could endure, and mutteredtogether the hoarse words that could deliver them. Not words thatFrankle could hear, but words to bring deliverance, to blank out theirminds like a wet sponge over slate. The hypnotic key clicked into thelock of their minds; their screams died in their brains. Frankle staredat them, and knew instantly what they had done, a technique of memoryobliteration known and dreaded for so many thousands of years thathistory could not remember. As his captives stood mindless before him,he let out one hoarse, agonized scream of frustration and defeat.
But strangely enough he did not kill them. He left them on a cold stoneledge, blinking dumbly at each other as the ships of his fleet rose oneby one and vanished like fireflies in the dark night sky. Naked, theysat alone on the planet of the Jungle-land. They knew no words, nomusic, nothing. And they did not even know that in the departing ships aseed had been planted. For Frankle _had_ heard the music. He had graspedthe beauty of his enemies for that brief instant, and in that instantthey had become less his enemies. A tiny seed of doubt had been planted.The seed would grow.
The two sat dumbly, shivering. Far in the distance, a beast roaredagainst the heavy night, and a light rain began to fall. They sat naked,the rain soaking their skin and hair. Then one of them grunted, andmoved into the dry darkness of the cave. Deep within him some instinctspoke, warning him to fear the roar of the animal.
Blinking dully, the woman crept into the cave after him. Three thoughtsalone filled their empty minds. Not thoughts of Nehmon and his people;to them, Nehmon had never existed, forgotten as completely as if he hadnever been. No thoughts of the Hunters, either, nor of their unheard-ofmercy in leaving them their lives--lives of memoryless oblivion, likeanimals in this green Jungle-land, but lives nonetheless.
Only three thoughts filled their minds:
It was raining.
They were hungry.
The Saber-tooth was prowling tonight.
They never knew that the link had been forged.
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