Planet of Adventure Omnibus (86 page)

Twenty miles
down the coast a tongue of land hooked out to the west. Along the foreshore a
forest of dark blue trees shrouded a city of flat domes, cambered cusps,
sweeping colonnades. Reith thought to recognize the architecture, and put a
question to the captain: “Is that a Chasch city?”

“It is Songh,
most southerly of the Blue Chasch places. I have taken cargoes into Songh, but
it is risky business. You must know the games of the Chasch: antics of a dying
race. I have seen ruins on the Kotan steppes: a hundred places where Old Chasch
or Blue Chasch once lived, and who goes there now? Only the Phung.”

The city
receded into the distance and disappeared from view as the ship passed south
beyond the peninsula. Not long after a cry from one of the crew brought
everyone out on deck. In the sky a pair of airships fought. One was a gleaming
contrivance of blue and white metal, shaped to a set of splendid curves. A
balustrade contained the deck, on which lay a dozen creatures in glistening
casques. The other craft was austere and bleak: a vessel sinister, ugly, gray,
built with only its function in mind. It was slightly smaller than the Blue
Chasch ship and somewhat more agile; in the dorsal bubble crouched the Dirdir
crew, intent at the work of destroying the Chasch ship. The vessels circled and
swung, now high, now low, careening around each other like venomous insects.
From time to time, as circumstances offered, the ships exchanged volleys of
sandblast fire, without noticeable effect. Far up into the gray-brown sky spun
the sparkling shapes, to spiral giddily down, one after the other, veering only
yards above the ocean’s surface.

The whole
company of the
Nhiahar
came on deck to watch the battle, even the two
old women who had not previously shown themselves. As they scanned the sky the
hood fell back from the head of one of them to reveal a keen pale countenance.
Zap 210, standing beside Reith, uttered a soft gasp, and quickly turned away
her gaze.

The Blue
Chasch ship slid suddenly down; the bow guns struck under the counter of the
Dirdir ship, knocking it up, tumbling it over and down into the sea, where it
struck with a soundless splash. The Blue Chasch vessel swung in a single grand
circle, then cruised back toward Songh.

The old women
had disappeared below. Zap 210 spoke in a tremulous whisper: “Did you notice?”

“Yes. I
noticed.”

“They are
Gzhindra.”

“Are you
sure?”

“Yes, I am
sure.”

“I suppose
Gzhindra make voyages like other folk,” said Reith, somewhat hollowly. “So far
at least they’ve done nothing to bother us.”

“But they are
here, aboard the ship! They do nothing without purpose!”

Reith made
another skeptical sound. “Perhaps so-but what can we do about it?”

“We can kill
them!”

Zap 210, for
all the strictures of her upbringing, was still a creature of Tschai, thought
Reith. He said: “We’ll keep close watch on them. Now that we know who they are,
and they don’t know that we know, the advantage is ours.”

It was Zap
210’s turn to make a skeptical sound. Reith nevertheless refused to waylay the
old women in the dark and strangle them.

The voyage
proceeded, southwest toward the Saschan Islands. Days passed without event more
noteworthy than the turn of the heavens. Each morning Carina 4269 broke through
the horizon into a dull bronze and old rose dawn. By noon a high haze had
formed, to filter the sunlight and lay a sheen like antique silk on the water.
The afternoons were long; sunsets were sad glories; allegorical wars between
dark heroes and the lords of light. After nightfall the moons appeared:
sometimes pink Az, sometimes blue Braz, and sometimes the
Nhiahar
rode
under the stars.

For Reith the
days and nights would have been as pleasant as any he had known on Tschai
except for the worry which nagged him: what was happening at Sivishe? Would he
find the spaceboat intact or destroyed? What of crafty Aila Woudiver; what of
the Dirdir in their horrid city across the water? And what of the two old
women, who might be Gzhindra? They never appeared except in the deep of night,
to walk the foredeck. One dark evening Reith watched them, the hair prickling
at the nape of his neck. Either they were Gzhindra or they were not, but lacking
information Reith felt obliged to assume the worst-and the implications were
cause for the most dismal foreboding.

One pale
umber morning the Saschan Islands loomed out of the sea: three ancient volcanic
necks surrounded by shelves of detritus where grew groves of psilla, kianthus,
candlenut, lethipod. On each island a town climbed the central crag, beehive
huts stacked one on the other like the cells of a wasp-nest. Black openings
stared out to sea; wisps of smoke rose into the air.

The
Nhiahar
entered the inner bay and, swerving to avoid a ferry, approached the south
island. On the dock waited bowlegged Saschanese longshoremen in black
breech-clouts and black roll-toed ankle-boots. They took the hawsers; the
Nhiahar
was warped alongside. As soon as the gangplank settled into place the
longshoremen swarmed aboard. Hatches were opened; bales of leather, sacks of
pilgrim-pod meal, crated tools were taken to the dock.

Reith and Zap
210 went ashore. The captain called dourly after them: “I make departure at noon
exactly, aboard or not.”

The two
walked along the esplanade, the crag and its unnatural encrustation of huts
rearing above them. Zap 210 glanced over her shoulder. “They are following us.”

“The
Gzhindra?”

“Yes.”

Reith grunted
in disgust. “It’s definite then. They have orders not to let us out of their
sight.”

“And we are
as good as dead.” Zap 210 spoke in a colorless voice. “At Kazain they will
report to the Pnume and then nothing can help us; we’ll be taken down into the
dark.”

Reith could
think of nothing to say. They came to a small harbor protected from the sea by
a pair of jetties, which narrowed to become a ferry slip. Reith and Zap 210
paused to watch the ferry arrive from the outer islands: a wide scow with
control cabins at either end, carrying two hundred Saschanese of all ages and
qualities. It nosed into the slip; the passengers debarked. As many more paid
toll to a fat man sitting before a booth and surged aboard; immediately the
ferry departed. Reith watched it cross the water, then led Zap 210 to a waiting
area set with benches and tables beside the ferry slip. Reith ordered sweet
wine and biscuits from a serving boy, then went to confer with the fat
fare-collector. Zap 210 looked nervously here and there. In the shadow of a
flight of steps she thought to glimpse two shapes robed in gray.
They wonder
what we’re doing,
Zap 210 told herself.

Reith
returned. “The next ferry leaves in something over an hour-a few minutes before
noon. I’ve already paid our fares.”

Zap 210 gave
him a puzzled inspection. “But we must be aboard the
Nhiahar
at noon!”

“True. Are
the Gzhindra nearby?”

“They’ve just
taken seats at the far table.”

Reith managed
a grim chuckle. “We’re giving them something to think about.”

“What should
they think about? That we might take the ferry?”

“Something of
the sort.”

“But why
should they think that? It seems so strange!”

“Not
altogether. There might be a ship at one of the other islands to take us
somewhere beyond their knowledge.”

“Is there
such a ship?”

“None that I
know of.”

“But if we
take the ferry the Gzhindra will follow, and the
Nhiahar
will leave
without all of us!”

“I expect so.
The captain would have no qualms whatever.”

The minutes
passed. Zap 210 began to fidget. “Noon is very close.” She studied Reith,
wondering what went on in his mind.

No other man
of Tschai-at least none she had yet seen-resembled him; he was of a different
sort.

“Here comes
the ferry,” said Reith. “Let’s go down to the slip. We want to be the first in
line.”

Zap 210 rose
to her feet. Never would she understand Reith! She followed him down to the
waiting sea. Others came to join them, to push and squirm and mutter. Reith
asked: “What of the Gzhindra?”

Zap 210
glanced over her shoulder. “They’re standing at the back of the crowd.”

The ferry
entered the slip; the barriers opened and the passengers surged ashore.

Reith spoke
in Zap 210’s ear. “Walk close by the collector’s hut. As we pass, duck inside.”

“Oh.”

The gate
opened. Reith and Zap 210 half-walked, half-ran down the way. At the collector’s
hut, Reith lowered his head and slipped within; Zap 210 followed. The embarking
passengers pushing past, handed their fares to the collector and marched down
to the ferry. Near the end of the line came the Gzhindra, trying to peer
through the surge ahead of them. They moved with the crowd, down the ramp,
aboard the ferry.

The barrier
closed; the ferry moved out. Reith and Zap 210 emerged from the hut. “It’s
almost noon,” said Reith. “Time to return aboard the
Nhiahar
.”

SOUTHEAST
TOWARD KISLOVAN gusty winds drove the
Nhiahar
. The sea was almost black.
The swells which rolled up and under the ship spilled rushes of white foam
ahead.

One blustery
morning Zap 210 joined Reith where he stood at the bow. For a moment they stood
looking ahead across the heaving water to where Carina 4269 dropped prisms and
fractured shards of golden light.

Zap 210
asked, “What lies ahead?”

Reith shook
his head. “I don’t know. I wish I did.”

“But you
worry. Are you afraid?”

“I’m afraid
of a man named Aila Woudiver. I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead.”

“Who is Aila
Woudiver, that you fear him so?”

“A man of
Sivishe, a man to fear ... I think he must be dead. I was kidnapped out of a
dream. In the dream I saw Aila Woudiver’s head split open.”

“So why do
you worry?”

Sooner or
later, thought Reith, he must make all clear. Perhaps now was the time. “Remember
the night I told you of other worlds among the stars?”

“I remember.”

“One of these
worlds is Earth. At Sivishe I built a spaceship, with Aila Woudiver’s help. I
want to go to Earth.”

Zap 210
stared ahead across the water. “Why do you want to go to Earth?”

“I was born
there. It is my home.”

“Oh.” She
spoke in a colorless voice. After a reflective silence of fifteen seconds, she
turned him a sidelong glance.

Reith said
ruefully, “You wonder if I am insane.”

“I’ve
wondered many times. Many, many times.”

Though Reith
himself had put the suggestion, he was nonetheless taken aback. “Indeed?”

She smiled
her sad grimace of a smile. “Consider what you have done. In the Shelters. At the
Khor grove. When you changed eels at Urmank.”

“Acts of
desperation, acts of a frantic Earthman.”

Zap 210
brooded across the windy ocean. “If you are an Earthman, what do you do here on
Tschai?”

“On the Kotan
steppes my spaceship was wrecked. At Sivishe I’ve built another.”

“Hmmf ... Is
Earth such a paradise?”

“The people
of Earth know nothing of Tschai. It’s important that they do know.”

“Why?”

“A dozen
reasons. Most important, the Dirdir raided Earth once; they might decide to
return.”

She gave him
her swift side-glance. “You have friends on Earth?”

“Of course.”

“You lived
there in a house?”

“In a manner
of speaking.”

“With a
woman? And your children?”

“No woman, no
children. I’ve been a spaceman all my life.”

“And when you
return-what then?”

“I’m not thinking
past Sivishe right now.”

“You will
take me with you?”

Reith put his
arm around her. “Yes. I will take you with me.”

She heaved a
sigh of relief. Presently she pointed ahead. “Beyond where the sun glints-an
island.”

The island, a
great crag of barren black basalt, was the first of a myriad, to scarify the
surface of the sea. The area was home to a host of sea-foragers, of a sort
beyond Reith’s previous experience. Four oscillating wings supported a cluster
of dangling pink tentacles and a central tube ending in a bulbous eye. The
creatures drifted high and low, dipping suddenly to seize some small wriggling
sea-thing. A few drifted toward the
Nhiahar
; the crewmen lurched back in
dread and took shelter in the forecastle.

The captain,
who had come up on the foredeck, sneered in disgust. “They consider these the
guts and eyes of drowned seamen. We sail the Channel of Death; these rocks are
the Channel Teeth.”