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people support us, and wear brown. They are raided you will, I think, remember one such raid?"
"Yes."
The Todalpheme, because of their vital function, were taboo subjects over most of Kregen. No man
would strike one down, lest the next tide should sweep him, his family and home away to watery
destruction. I glanced up. Clouds massed before the suns. The temperature dropped markedly as we
walked back along the battlements of the Akhram.
Akhram went on speaking: "We hear that this Genod Gannius has enlisted new allies in his struggles
against the Zairians. He has brought new fighting men and weapons, and he has asked for a quantity of
these wonderful flying boats."
I stared at him. Again the sense of vast unseen struggles enveloped me. The shadowy purposes of the
Star Lords had, it seemed to me, been made a little more plain. They had used me to save Gahan
Gannius and Valima and thus ensure the creation of their son Genod. What Genod was doing, therefore,
must be desired by the Star Lords. I did not know why they should wish the green of Grodno to
overcome the red of Zair, here in the Eye of the World.
The Akhram was still speaking, his face shadowed as the clouds grew over the bright face of the suns.
"We predict a great tide and the representatives of Genod Gannius have asked us to make sure a
convoy of ships bearing the flying boats is allowed through the Dam of Days before we close the
caissons." He glanced obliquely at the clouds. Already I, an old sailorman, had sensed the gale brewing.
"If the storm breaks with the tide the ships will be safely inside the Grand Canal. We could not refuse
Gannius, for he brought an army with his request, and they guard the Dam of Days now, to enforce their
orders."
If I seem to you particularly stupid in that I did not at once seize on these facts and construct an
impressive theory, I must plead only that I had taken a savage whirling in the blasts of fate and now I only
wished to turn my back on the inner sea. Yes, I would feel a terrible grief when the red of Zair went
down, when Zy was destroyed and Sanurkazz ravaged. But they were merely small places in a small
locale hidden from the rest of Kregen. My place lay in Valka and Vallia, maturing our plans to withstand
the insane ambitions of the Empress Thyllis of Hamal, or in Djanduin with my Djangs, or taking hard
steps to combat the raids of the shanks from around the curve of the world. I also had to visit Strombor
in the enclave city of Zenicce and assure myself that my house prospered. And I would then go on a visit
to my clansmen of the Great Plains of Segesthes, my wonderful clansmen of Felschraung and Longuelm.
So there was much I must do in this marvelous and terrible world of Kregen. The inner sea shrank in my
estimation of the important things in my life.
But Havilfarese vollers, here, in the Eye of the World! Manned by the cramphs of Magdag and all the
other rasts of Grodnims, swooping down to destroy the red of Zair. How the Krozairs and the Red
Brethren would fight! It would be a wonderful ending to all, to join them and roar out the battle songs for
Zair and so go down fighting into the Ice Floes of Sicce.
Sanity returned. That would not help Delia. She might sympathize with my emotions, but I could not
destroy her out of sheer warrior s pride.
Already I had spent far too long dillydallying in the Eye of the World when I should be actively seeking
out a galleon from Vallia, not meekly sitting here waiting for one to sail past. There would be galleons in
Magdag. I must go there, find one and give orders to her skipper, in my capacity as Prince Majister of
Vallia, order him to bear me home to Vallia without delay. Yes, by Vox!
But I thought Delia would allow me one look at this marvel, this Dam of Days. Just one look. Then
Magdag, Vallia, Valka, home!
I said to Duhrra: "On the morrow I visit the Dam of Days. After that I go where I fancy you will not wish
to go."
Duhrra replied comfortably, "I do not think there is such a place, master."
Chapter Twenty
The Dam of Days
"Why do you call yourself Dak, when our records show your name to be Dray Prescot?"
Akhram looked up at me with his wise gaze frank and open. We sat in his study with all the old familiar
paraphernalia of ephemeris, globe, table and dividers spread around. Here I had talked for many burs
one time with his predecessor, the old Akhram. I had been invited to join the Todalpheme and had
rejected the offer, hungering for my Delia.
I said: "There have been many events in my life since last I passed this way. The name of Dray Prescot is
well known on the inner sea . . . well . . ." Here I paused, thinking I boasted. To correct that impression,
I said: "I am a hunted man from one side and, if the other side knew I still lived and was here, I would be
the target for instant destruction. The name Dak is an honored one. I do not treat it lightly."
"We are aloof from the red and green. But we understand the passions that rule men within the Eye of
the World. And, yes, I will arrange for you to visit the Dam of Days. And, yes, you may rest assured
your name will remain Dak with us."
"You are most kind."
So Duhrra and I and a small escort of three of the younger Todalpheme rode out astride sectrixes for the
western end of the Grand Canal. We carried supplies carefully wrapped in leaves. By walking the
sectrixes and not galloping hard the journey would take about fifteen burs. I thought Delia would allow
me fifteen burs there and fifteen back out of my burning urgency to return to her. Looking back, I think I
sensed more in this journey than a mere excuse to my Delia. So we rode.
You who have followed my story this far will know that some other and altogether more evil and more
Dray Prescot-like motive inspired me. Those ships carried Havilfarese vollers. I fancied they would be
Hamalese rather than Hyrklanan or some other of the smaller states of Havilfar manufacturing fliers. So
there might be a beautiful opportunity for me, the old reiver, the old render, the old paktun, to steal away
a voller and fly directly back to Delia. That would be like the Dray Prescot I hoped I still was.
The water in the Grand Canal was low, barely half a mile deep. That was the usual depth the
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