Lin Carter - Down to a Sunless Sea (13 page)

Brant found them all tasty, but the one he liked best was his own discovery. The huge stalk, crowned with its nodding head the size of a barrel, was silvery-gray on the outside, mottled with irregular lavender spots. Inside, the flesh proved creamy in color and of the consistency of vanilla pudding. But it tasted like nothing else than the finest white meat of the tuna fish. The succulent, meaty taste pleased them all, even the three Martians, who had never tasted anything remotely like fish in their lives.

"Well," sighed Brant contentedly, patting a full stomach at the conclusion of their feast, "after weeks of canned rations and lizard meat, it's good to have a decent meal again!"

Harbin grinned in agreement. "Even if the dishes were a trifle exotic," he said. "The meat from that tuna-tree might taste even better with a chewier consistency. We could try broiling slices over a slow fire. ..."

Brant stifled a huge yawn. "Incidentally, Doc . . . d'you suppose it ever gets dark in this place?"

"I doubt it. We've been here quite a while by now, and the luminosity does not seem to wax or wane. We're going to have to learn to sleep with the lights on, that's all."

18

The Lovers

They were all weary from their exertions on the stone stair, and felt emotionally drained from the succession of marvels they had found in this weird underground world, and were not long in seeking their rest.

In this humid warmth, there was no need for bedrolls or blankets. The travelers simply lay down wherever they were and fell asleep almost instantly. The dewy moss was springy and soft, and made as comfortable a bed as any they could recently recall.

During the night—odd word to use in this land of perpetual day, but old habits are difficult to break—Brant woke. His bladder was full and he felt the need to relieve himself. He rose and padded a little ways into the depths of the fungus-forest for privacy, and found that two of his companions had also sought seclusion, but for a somewhat different reason.

Agila and little Suoli lay wrapped in each other's arms, their bodies moving vigorously in the act of love. From her moans and whimpers and soft little sighs, the young woman did not seem exactly unwilling. «

Brant stopped short at the sight and lingered for a moment on the edge of the little glade in which the lovers lay. It was none of his business, and the two had every right to their private pleasures, so he withdrew silently. They had not noticed him come and were too busy to notice him leave.

But their passion had another witness, it seemed. Not far from the place where Brant had stood, discovering them, stood another. It was Zuarra. The expression on her face was unreadable, but it did not look to Brant like either sorrow or anger, nor even jealousy. There was no telling how long she had stood there, watching the two from the concealment of a tall spotted mushroom-tree.

As Brant went past her, she turned and saw him, and reached out to take his arm. Somehow—and afterwards he could never quite remember how it came about—she was in his arms, her firm breasts warm against his bare chest, her mouth sweet and eager under his own.

They exchanged no words, for none were needed. Arm in arm they turned to seek another place, and when they found a cozy bower, sheltered by thickly set mushroom-trees, they sank to the soft cushion of the moss and made love hungrily, almost savagely, coupling like beasts.

When they were done, and he thought to rise, she clung to him, locking her arms around his neck.

"Stay in me," she whispered hoarsely, and he did. After
a
time, they dozed off, only to wake and to love again. And the second time it was even better. He discovered in her a hungry passion equal to his own, a tirelessness and a vigor. And she found in him a warmth, a tenderness, a gentle strength she had never found in another man. It was, to her, as satisfying, as draining, as the love of women, but different, very different, in a way she could not put into words.

When he awoke at last, it was to discover her sitting tailor-fashion nearby, regarding him with thoughtful eyes. He grinned and she too smiled a soft, contented smile. When he reached out to touch her, to caress her body, she came into his arms and they kissed.

"Has it been a long time for you, O Brant?" she whispered.

It had been a long time since Brant had a woman. He nodded, adding: "And even longer since I've had a woman like you." She smiled demurely.

"It has been long for Zuarra, too," she admitted. "Never has she enjoyed love with any man as much as she enjoys it with you."

They rose to their feet and went back to the clearing where they found Suoli and Agila fast asleep, and Will Harbin grinned at them. He wanted to remark further on the parallels between this lovely place and Eden—something to the effect that it looked as though Adam and Eve had tasted of the apple, but held his peace.

For breakfast they toasted thick slices of the tunafish-tree over a small fire which Brant touched to smoldering with a thin, quick beam from his power gun. It was even more delicious than it had been the "evening" before.

They were going to have to invent new terms for such familiar words as morning, afternoon, night and evening, for these words did not apply to this weird and wonderful world that lay dreaming like Paradise, bathed in a pearly light like that of the morning of the First Day.

After breakfast, Harbin and Brant set about rigging up a crude still in which to boil the impurities out of the seawater. It was not an easy job, for they lacked the proper utensils, but they found at length that their makeshift still worked well enough, although it was a lengthy and boring process, waiting for the steam from the boiling water to condense into enough pure water for them to sate their thirsts.

Brant and Zuarra had few words for each other, but their eyes met frequently and very often they touched, with a pretense of casualness. Agila and Suoli only had eyes for each other and hardly seemed to notice. As for the old scientist, he chattered volubly, if only to fill the silence.

Later that day, Brant caught a dragonfly napping and killed the creature with Agila's knife, which he had not returned to him since their brief fist-fight many days before. Harbin examined the creature with alert curiosity, dissecting it with the knife. The bowie-like blade was unsuited to such delicate work, but Harbin did the best he could. He found that the tubular body contained a sizable quantity of meat, which he toasted over the smoldering coals of their fire.

When the others proved a bit too squeamish to taste the stuff, he sampled it himself. "Tastes quite a bit like escargot," he pronounced, chewing judiciously. "A slice of lemon would help; but it's not bad. Well, now we know that when we get tired

of eating from the mushroom-trees, we can vary our diet

somewhat.

"Think there's any fish in the ocean, Doc?" asked Brant.

"Doubt it very much. There are none to be found in Great Salt Lake or the Dead Sea, either. And this underground ocean is saltier than both."

That "night" after the travelers dined on more mushroom-meat, and sought their rest, Zuarra and Brant stole away into the forest to make love. It was richer and deeper this third time, the hungry wanting somewhat satisfied. They lacked the urgency they had felt before, and took the time to explore each other's bodies with sensitivity and tenderness.

"How long do we intend to remain in this strange world, O Brant?" Zuarra asked, after the loving, as they lay together with naked limbs entwined.

"Who knows?" he yawned. "Until the outlaws go away, I guess. But it's not a bad place to be. Warm, comfortable, plenty of food. And if there are any predators down here, we've yet to see them."

They kissed, and drowsed into sleep.

And awoke suddenly with lances touching their throats.

It had taken Tuan and his men less time to get down the stony stair than it had taken Brant's party, for they were all lean and rangy men, hard and tough, while Brant had been slowed somewhat by the women, especially little Suoli.

But they had come at last. And Brant wondered if they had already captured the others, and cursed himself silently for having left his power guns behind with his clothing. But who could have thought that he might need his guns in this peaceful garden?

I should have thought, he said grimly to himself. After all, he had known there was a very good chance the outlaws might follow them down the stair. He inwardly cursed himself for letting the beauty of this place and the marvels within it, and the woman who lay at his side, lull him away from his usual wariness. Well, there was never any good crying over spilt milk—or blood, either.

A booted foot kicked him in the side. He gave voice to an involuntary grunt and would have sprung to his feet, but for the long lance level with his breast.

One of the outlaws, a villanous-looking rogue with cold, mean eyes as unblinking as those of a cobra, grinned, revealing broken and discolored teeth, and pressed with the lance a little.

The point just broke his skin. Brant felt a drop of blood trickle down his bare chest.

He exchanged a long look with Zuarra. Her face was expressionless and there was no fear in her eyes as she looked at him. But they were lying so close together that he could feel how rapidly her heart was beating beneath her proud breasts.

Yes, the Serpent was in Eden, at last. . . .

"Let them rise to their feet," ordered Tuan, "and lead them back to where the other dogs are penned. Bind their wrists behind their backs." He stalked away toward the place where, presumably, Harbin and the others were held prisoner.

Brant watched with a heavy heart as the men bound Zuarra. Oddly, they did not insult her body with their hands. Instead, they looked her naked body over from face to feet with cool, appraising eyes. They wore not the expression of men whose minds were lingering on thoughts of rape. Instead, they examined her with their eyes as if looking over something that could be sold for a good price.

19

The Flying Man

Looking weary, Will Harbin lay on the moss with two warriors standing over him.

Whimpering and blubbering, Suoli, similarly bound, cowered at the feet of another warrior, while Agila sprawled naked, eyes wide with fear, a little beyond where his woman was huddled.

They had all been taken unawares. And Brant silently damned himself for not having taken the proper precautions which would have prevented this debacle. He was too old a Mars hand to be caught like this, quite literally, napping.

When the five captives had all been bound, Tuan surveyed them one by one, with hard, measuring eyes. He was a tall rascal, his kilt unmarked by the colors of his nation, which, of course, showed that he was
aoudh
—an outcast. But the blood of princes flowed in his veins, and you could see it in his stance, in the ramrod-straightness wherewith he held himself, and in something of the poise of his head.

He strolled over to where Agila crouched, licking lips dry with fear, and nudged the naked man in the ribs with the toe of his boot.

"Dog, it was you who stole from me the sacred dish of my ancestors," he hissed between thin lips. "Not only did you commit the crime of theft from one who had shown you the hospitality of his camp, but you fled from justice like a coward in the dark."

Agila lowered his eyes to the ground, his lean, bony face surly and his eyes sullen. But he again licked his dry lips.

Tuan eyed the man contemptuously, then kicked him in the ribs. Agila cried out, and fell on his side.

"For your ending," purred Tuan, "we shall devise something interesting and novel. Perhaps we shall be able to outdo Kohharin himself," he added, in reference to an ancient and legendary king mentioned in The Book, whose name had become renowned for the ingenuity of the torments which he had of old inflicted upon his enemies.

Then Tuan turned to survey the two naked women. "Of you, I know nothing, and will be charitable," he said. "Your bodies will be sold in Ahour, perhaps to a pleasure-house, and it shall be your fate to open your thighs to men that are not of your choosing!"

Brant growled and bristled at those words. Tuan turned his head and looked at him, and at Harbin.

"As for you,
f'yagha,
you have befouled the treasure of my princely ancestors with your eyes and your outworlder touch. As well, you abetted this dog in his flight, and aided him with your wits, your guns, and your water. His fate shall be your fate, while the world lasts!"

Then he strode away to confer with one or two of the other men of his band, leaving his prisoners alone with their thoughts. And bitter, lonely thoughts they were. . . .

The outlaw chieftain inspected their garments and gear idly, finding little that pleased him save their guns. Energy weapons were prized possessions among the People, as Brant knew very well. After all, in leaner times, he had run guns to the native princelings, himself.

The "morning" wore on. Under close guard, the captives were left bound and helpless. Brapt surreptitiously tested his bonds, but they were too tough, and too cunningly tied, for even his burly strength to loosen, much less to snap.

He watched Tuan carefully. Even though the chieftain had been the keeper of the pale gold dish with its engraved ancient map, he was obviously as puzzled and impressed at discovering this subterranean cavern world as had been the members of Brant's party. Obviously, to him the dish had simply been a precious relic of the past, an heirloom, a family treasure, nothing more.