and the capital city of Nephesh.
Lisa gasped, "Where are you taking us?" She hoped the Matmon
would take them to King Tiqvah. He would recognize them and
release them instantly.
`.. There is only one place fit for enemies of the king!" Ildreth
growled. "Where else would we take you?"
"King Tiqvah knows us," Kurt insisted. "He'll explain everything."
Both Mattison snickered. Shamith said, "Tiqvah knows you not.
Thirty years I have served him. I can swear you have never been in
his royal presence."
"It was way back a long time ago! When he was a kid himself!"
Lisa protested.
Ildreth lifted his paddle from the water and stared at Lisa. "The
king-a young goat? What madness is this?"
"Goat? No, no, by `kid' I mean we knew him as a boy-about the
age of Wesley here."
She knew how absurd it sounded. The children hadn't even
been born when Tigvah began to reign, not if you counted
Anthropos time.
Wesley managed to raise his head and shoulders and twist
around to look back at the shore they had left. If only he hadn't put
the Sword of Geburah back in its scabbard and leaned it against a
tree. He was sure the Matmon hadn't noticed it. They were too
intent on the bodies of the insects-weaver bees, they called them.
Wes's neck and shoulders ached. He would have to turn and lie
prone again.
Just before he turned away, he caught sight of motion on the
shore. Along the water's edge fluttered something like a piece of
white paper blown by the wind. It behaved oddly for something
windblown, for it bounded along the shore in one direction and then suddenly reversed and went the opposite direction. Now and
then it rose a foot or so from the ground, fluttered in a tight circle
and dropped again. It didn't look like a piece of paper. It looked
like ...
Wesley's heart leaped. It was a bird, a white pigeon! On other
visits to Anthropos the children had been guided and helped by a
white pigeon. Was this the same one? Why didn't it fly out to join
them on the raft?
The pigeon landed on the shore and looked out across the
water. Wes could not be sure, but he thought the bird cocked its
head to one side as though it studied the situation. He did not see it
fly again. As the expanse of water widened between shore and raft,
the pigeon faded to an insignificant white speck and disappeared.
Wesley groaned. Why hadn't the pigeon flown out to help them?
Maybe it wasn't the same pigeon that had helped them before.
Maybe it was only an ordinary bird. Even as he groaned, a warmth
came into his body, a warmth that was deeper than sunshine. He
put his forehead on the log raft, closed his eyes and waited.
Ildreth and Shamith paddled with power and skill. The raft
surged forward with each joint paddle stroke and rocked gently as
it lost momentum before the next stroke. The four prisoners stayed
quiet, occupied with their own thoughts.
Kurt wanted to sit up and face forward. He wondered if one of
the Matmon would smack him with a paddle if he tried. Slowly he
scooted around and eased himself upright. To his relief Shamith
and Ildreth paid no attention. Kurt studied the shiny pale cord that
bound his wrists. It was little more than string! He could easily
break it! The Marmon were intent on their paddling. Kurt tried to
pull his hands apart-though what he would do even if he got his
hands free, he didn't know. The thin cord held fast. Kurt tugged with short pulls. He strained with longer pulls. His wrists showed
painful red lines and began to swell. The cord did not break.
To Wesley the cord looked familiar. He had once climbed a rope
ladder woven of that same indestructible material. Shamith had
said something about Tiqvah not being able to get silk for rope
because the weaver bees were dead. So those vicious insects spun
this stuff, like silkworms!
Ahead the lake water ruffled with little whitecaps, and beyond it
he saw the walls of a city that must be Nephesh. A stiff breeze hit
the raft's
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