The Ladder in the Sky Read Free

continually, as well as the armed ferry which links the fortress and the mainland. We have considered tunneling, but the lake is too deep; we have considered flying, but there is no place to set down. The fortress completely covers the rocky island on which it is built, and there are rocket stands on the roofs. Yet we can see him at the open window of his apartment, and signal to him.”
    “And you wish him to be released,” the thing said.
    “Yes,” Bryda said.
    “It can be done,” the thing sent on, as though ignoring her. “It can be done at once.”
    Bryda did not relax. She looked at Yarco, who sat with his face shiny with sweat and his lips pressed close together. Not turning to the thing again, she said in a barely audible voice, “For what price?”
    “There is only one price,” the thing said. “Service for a year and a day.”
    What could that terrifying voice mean by service? What could a black thing with eyes like coals want of a human being? Kazan’s blood thundered in his ears, and forgetful of his hobble he tried to get to his feet.
    “He will serve you,” he heard Bryda say, and knew she was pointing towards him. Somehow, though, he could see nothing. Except a swimming pattern of dots which seemed to be inside his eyes. He felt himself seized and held, most likely by Hego, because the hands that closed on his arms were slippery—wet with the sweat of pure fear.
    “It’s gone,” Yarco said wonderingly.
    Then the conjurer’s voice, “I must pass the ring over him. Free him, you!”
    For a moment the grip on his arms ended. Something cold touched his nape—metal. The ring! He tried frantically to duck underneath it and escape, but it was let fall. He flung out his arms, but it was too wide to catch, and like the knell of doom he heard it clang as it struck the floor at his feet.
    Then he fainted.

    He was lying on his back, his mouth slackly open. A taste of something warm and sweet invited him to swallow, and he did. Passive, he let the fluid run down his throat.
    Memory seemed to trickle back with it. When the flow ended he opened his eyes. He was on a padded couch against the wall of the same room. A wheeled trolley stood next to the couch, with a steaming tureen on it. Yarco was ladling the contents into a spouted jug. It was that spout which had come between his teeth, Kazan decided.
    Yarco’s hand was shaking so badly that the ladle clinked against the jug each time he lifted it, and his face was as shiny as it had been when the thing was present. But he went on methodically with what he was doing.
    “I suppose the others were afraid,” Kazan said. He licked his lips.
    Startled, Yarco almost dropped both jug and ladle. He said, “I—yes, I guess they are.”
    “And you?”
    “I don’t believe in being afraid,” Yarco said. “We are at the mercy of the stars. If I am to be killed by a man possessed of a devil, it’s the decree of the wyrds and I can’t change it. Meantime, possessed or not, you seemed to have fainted with hunger. Do you want more of this?”
    Kazan sat up, wondering at the calmness in his mind. He took the full jug from Yarco and drained it. Yarco stood watching, his face relaxing from tension to puzzlement.
    He said at last, “You’re all right?”
    Kazan nodded. He stretched his arms out and flexed them. “Did you take off my manacles?” he asked.
    “I did. For the same reason. Moreover, the thing which was called up seemed powerful, and you were pledged to it, and it would be well to attend to your needs.” He hesitated, and then put the question that had clearly been itching in his mind.
    “Do I speak to Kazan, or to the thing? ”
    For a moment Kazan was startled. Then the words made sense, and he realized that he might have asked the same of himself.
    “How can I answer?” he said. “I feel like Kazan, I think-no, I think I think like Kazan.”
    Abruptly he leaped from the couch. He took a pace away from it and planted his feet together on the