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one-unless it becomes necessary to my own survival.”
    The boy
heaved a heavy sigh. “I am confused. You are wrong-or the magicians are wrong.”
    “The
magicians are wrong. Human history on Earth goes back ten thousand years.”
    Traz Onmale
laughed. “Once, before I carried Onmale, the tribe entered the ruins of old
Carcegus and there captured a Pnumekin. The magicians tortured him to gain
knowledge, but he spoke only to curse each minute of the fifty-two thousand
years that men had lived on Tschai ... Fifty-two thousand years against your
ten thousand years. It is all very strange.”
    “Very strange
indeed.”
    Traz Onmale
rose to his feet, looked up into the sky, where wind-driven wrack flew across
the night sky. “I have been watching the moons,” he said in a thin voice. “The
magicians are watching likewise. The portents are poor; I believe that there is
about to be a conjunction. If Az covers Braz, all is well. If Braz covers Az,
then someone new will carry Onmale.”
    “And you?”
    “I must carry
aloft the wisdom of Onmale, and set matters right.” And Traz Onmale departed
the shed.
    The tempest
roared across the steppe: a night, a day, a second night. On the morning of the
second day the sun rose into a clear windy sky. The scouts rode forth as usual,
to return pellmell at noon. There was an instant explosion of activity.
Tarpaulins were folded, sheds were struck, packed into bundles. Women loaded
the drays; warriors rubbed their leap-horses with oil, threw on saddles,
attached reins to the sensitive frontal palps. Reith approached Traz Onmale. “What
goes on?”
    “A caravan
from the east has been sighted at long last. We shall attack along the Ioba River. As Vaduz you may ride with us and take a share of plunder.”
    He ordered a
leap-horse; Reith mounted the ill-smelling beast with trepidation. It jerked to
the unfamiliar weight, thrashing up its knob of a tail. Reith yanked at the
reins; the leap-horse crouched and sprang off across the steppe while Reith
held on for dear life. From behind came a roar of laughter: the hooting and
jeering of experts for the tribulations of a tenderfoot.
    Reith finally
brought the leap-horse under control and came plunging back. A few moments
later the group swept off to the northeast, the black long-necked brutes
lunging and foaming, the warriors leaning forward on the saddleplats, knees
drawn up, black leather hats flapping; Reith could not help but feel an archaic
thrill at riding in the savage cavalcade.
    For an hour
the Emblem Men pounded across the steppe, bending low when they crossed over
skylines. The rolling hills flattened; ahead lay a vast expanse streaked with
shadows and dull colors. The troop halted on a hill while the warriors pointed
here and there. Traz Onmale now gave orders. Reith pulled his mount up close
and strained to listen. “-the south track to the ford. We wait in Bellbird
Covert. The Ilanths will make the ford first; they will scout Zad Woods and
White Hill. Then we sweep upon the center and make off with the treasure vans.
Is all clear? So onward, to Bellbird Covert!”
    Down the long
slope rushed the Emblems, toward a far line of tall trees and a group of
isolated bluffs overlooking Ioba River. In the shelter of a deep forest the
Emblem warriors concealed themselves.
    Time passed.
From afar sounded a faint rumble, and the caravan appeared. Several hundred
yards in advance rode three splendid yellow-skinned warriors, wearing black
caps surmounted by jawless human skulls. Their beasts were similar to, but
larger and rather more bland than the leap-horses; they carried sidearms and
short swords, with short rifles laid across their laps.
    Now, from the
standpoint of the Emblems, everything went awry. The Ilanths failed to plunge
across the river but waited watchfully for the caravan. To the river-bank
lumbered motordrays with six-foot wheels, piled to astonishing heights with
bales, parcels and in certain cases, cages in which huddled men