The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

by his sonic, and one he knew.
    Don’t rush, he told himself sharply—play it safe. By rights only two people in this time and place would know that call. And one would have no reason to use it. But—a trap? This could be a trap. Awe of the Foanna powers had touched him a little in spite of his off-world skepticism. He could be lured now by someone using Ashe’s call.
    Ross stripped for action after a fashion, bundling the net and its contents into a hollow he scooped behind a pile well above water level. The alien hand weapon he had left with Karara, not trusting it to the sea. But he had his diver’s knife and his two hands which, by training, could be, and had been, deadly weapons.
    With the sonic against the bare skin of his middle where it would register strongest, knife in hand, Ross moved into the open. The floating patches did not supply much light, but he was certain the call had come from the jetty.
    There was movement there—a flash or two. And the sonic? Ross had to be sure, very sure. The broadcast was certainly stronger when he faced in that direction. Dared he come into the open? Perhaps in the dark he could cut Ashe away from his captors so they could swim for it together.
    Ross clicked a code reply. Dot…dot…dot…
    The answer was quick, imperative: “Where?”
    Surely no one but Ashe could have sent that! Ross did not hesitate.
    “Be ready—escape.”
    “No!” Even more imperative. “Friends here.…”
    Had he guessed rightly? Had Ashe established friendly relations with the Foanna? But Ross kept to the caution which had been his defense and armor so long. There was one question he thought only Ashe could answer, something out of the past they had shared when they had made their first journey into time disguised as Beaker traders of the Bronze Age. Deliberately he tapped that question.
    “What did we kill in Britain?”
    Tensely he waited. But when the reply came it did not pulse from the sonic under his fingers; instead, a well-remembered voice called out of the night.
    “A white wolf.” And the words were Terran English.
    “Ashe!” Ross leaped forward, climbed toward the figure he could only dimly see.
    CHAPTER 14
    The Foanna
    “Ross!” Ashe’s hands gripped his shoulders as if never intending to free him again. “Then you did come through—”
    Ross understood. Gordon Ashe must have feared that he was the only one swept through the time door by that freak chance.
    “And Karara and the dolphins!”
    “Here—now?” In this black bowl of the citadel bay Ashe was only a shadow with voice and hands.
    “No, out with the Rover cruisers. Ashe, do you know the Baldies are on Hawaika? They’ve organized this whole thing—the attack here—trouble all over. Right now they have one of their subs out there. That’s what cut those cutters to pieces. Five days ago five of them wiped out a whole Rover fairing, just five of them!”
    “Gordoon.” Unlike the hissing speech of the Hawaikans, this new voice made a singing, lilting call of Ashe’s name. “This is your swordsman in truth?” Another shadow drew near them, and Ross saw the flutter of cloak edge.
    “This is my friend.” There was a tone of correction in Ashe’s reply. “Ross, this is the Guardian of the sea gate.”
    “And you come,” the Foanna continued, “with those who gather to feast at the Shadow’s table. But your Rovers will find little loot to their liking—”
    “No.” Ross hesitated. How did one address the Foanna? He had claimed equality with Torgul. But that approach was not the proper one here; instinct told him that. He fell back on the complete truth uttered simply. “We took three of the Baldy killers. From them we learned they move to wipe out the Foanna first. For you,” he addressed himself to the cloaked shape, “they believe to be a threat. We heard that they urged the Wreckers to this attack and so—”
    “And so the Rovers come, but not to loot? Then they are something new among their kind.” The Foanna’s reply was as chill as the sea bay’s water.
    “Loot does not summon men who want a blood price for their dead kin!” Ross retorted.
    “No, and the Rovers are believers in the balance of hurt against hurt,” the Foanna conceded. “Do they also believe in the balance of aid against aid? Now that is a thought upon which depends much. Gordoon, it would seem that we may not take to our ships. So let us return to council.”
    Ashe’s hand was on Ross’s arm guiding him