The Hostage of Zir (15 page)

Reith began tossing caltrops over the bishtar’s rump. The sounds of pursuit grew louder.

“What are you doing?” asked a tourist. Reith ignored the question and continued to throw caltrops on the trail behind. Valerie Mulroy said: “Oh, now I see why you had to be at the tail of the procession.”

“Nice to know somebody had a brain,” gritted Reith, still tossing caltrops.

The sounds of pursuit continued to wax. Then the tone of the voices changed. Something, beyond the curtain of rain, had interrupted the chase.

Reith threw his last caltrop. The sounds of the Ziruma did not seem to be getting any closer.

“They’re to cripple the ayas,” Reith explained. “The poor beasts step on them and get a spike through the foot. Then they become unruly and buck off their riders.”

“How cruel!” said Shirley Waterford. “How could you, Fearless?”

“I don’t like cruelty to animals either; but would you rather go back to Barré’s camp?”

Nothing more was said. The tourists huddled under the driving rain, through which the bishtars stolidly tramped. Sounds of pursuit died away.

###

Shortly after noon the next day, the two bishtars shambled into the railroad base camp. Reith was encouraged by the smart way the Duro troops manned the stockade, crossbows ready. They took care to identify the arrivals before admitting them. If Barré mounted a retaliatory attack, he would have a tough nut to crack.

Eleven bedraggled tourists, plus Reith and Mjipa, climbed down the ladders. Lund and Strachan came out to congratulate the fugitives. Strachan said: “When you didn’t arrive early this morning, we were sure Barré had murdered the lot of you.”

“Sure, it’s taken us a long time to get here,” said Reith. “Our mahouts got lost several times. Can’t say I blame them, between the rain and the darkness.”

“Didna Barré send his men after you on foot, when he found you’d mined the trail?”

Reith shrugged. “If he did, they never caught up with us. Maybe they got lost, too. You can’t keep up with a bishtar afoot anyway. Can you have a train to Baianch for us in an hour or two?”

“What’s the hurry, laddie? We’d like to hear your people’s stories. It gets monotonous out here after the novelty’s worn off.”

“We’ve got to shove, Ken. Barré may come down on you, and it’s my job to keep my geese out of the fighting.”

“If the bandit king does, we shall need all the help we can get.”

“Sorry. Maybe a couple of my people, besides myself, might be of some use in a fight. The others would only get in the way.”

Strachan sighed. “Well, what must be, must be, as one of their native philosophers put it. I’ll make you up a special train.”

As the party, lugging baggage, climbed aboard the special, Aimé Jussac asked: “Mr. Mjipa, what was the tune you played on that—that
clairon,
whatever you call it in English?”

“An old Australian song called
Waltzing Matilda”
said Mjipa.

“Ah! I took it for von Suppé’s
Light Cavalry Overture.”

Mjipa laughed. “My dear Monsieur Jussac, that proves one of two things. Either I’m no musician, or you have no ear for music. On the whole, I think the former the more likely.”

XII

THE RESTIVE CONSORT

Back in Baianch, Fergus Reith first saw his tourists settled in the Old Palace. Then he went to pay his respects to the Regent.

At the end of his report, he was bidden again to a private supper. At the appointed time, he presented himself in Duro court dress at the door of the private dining chamber. The Regent greeted him warmly, wringing his hand. He said: “I must apologize, Master Reese. Business of state demands my time, so I shall miss the pleasure of hearing your adventures. From what I’m told, these are worthy of the pen of a Saqqiz or a Harian. The brigand chief is on the move, and we must plan how best to counter him. I leave you to the mercies of my spoilt young kinswoman.”

Tashian bowed himself out, leaving Reith alone in the room, except for the guards, with Vázni bad-Dushta’en, Douri of Dur. The princess sat on the far side of the supper table. Reith’s eyes bugged as he took in her costume. This was a formal dress in Gozashtandou style. It had a long emerald-green skirt but left the breasts bare, somewhat like the dresses of ancient Crete. Jewels blazed on her neck, wrists, and brow.

“Like you it?” she said, rising and pirouetting.

“It leaves me speechless,” said Reith.

“We wear such fripperies not oft in this cool clime; but for once I was fain to appear as one of the great ladies of the more cultivated southerly courts. I’m told the sight of a woman’s milk glands stimulates the males of your species. Be that sooth?”

Reith gulped. “It affects me for certain, Douri.”

“Strange; ’tis not the case with us.” She poured kvad for both. “Still, I’m glad my appearance titillates you. What true female would not wish every male to lust after her on sight? Tell me, does my aspect impassionate you as much as would that of one of your Terran dames?”

“If it impassionated me any more—well, my lady, I know not what to say. I try to stay within the bounds of courtly manners.”

She giggled. “Most excellently put, Master Reese! I take your meaning and rejoice in your unspoken thoughts. With me, alas, such things have perforce been kept on the plane of thought, for my tyrannous cousin has allowed me no lover or husband. But now tell me of your latest escape. You must, ere you depart our demesne, dictate the tale to one of our scriveners. Our poets shall make it into an heroic lay.”

Glad to have the conversation take a less perilous turn, Reith launched into his story. By concentrating on flights, pursuits, and close calls, he managed to forget the pounding of his pulse. He was still talking when supper was cleared away.

“Come to my sitting room,” said Vázni, “where we shan’t have these honest yokels of guards breathing down our necks.”

She led him into the sitting room into which he had blundered that earlier time, when he had gotten drunk playing piza with Strachan. She rang a little bell on the table, and a serving girl brought another jug and goblets. Pouring, Vázni said: “Master Reese, I’ve heard that among earthmen, you have two names apiece.”

“At least two,” said Reith. “Three is usual. My full name is Fergus MacNairn Reith.”

“And they say you use the second name—I mean the last name—for formal occasions but the first among intimates. Be that right?”

“Aye, Douri. Customs, howsomever, differ. In my America, we use the first name on short acquaintance.”

“ ’Tis otherwise amongst us. Now, my true and only name is Vázni. The bad-Dushta’en means merely offspring of Dushta’en. Now let’s leave these philological quibbles. May I call you Fergus?” She pronounced it “fair-goss.”

“I shall be honored, Douri.”

“ ’Twere easier than your other, which ends in a hissing sound I cannot frame. And you shall call me Vázni. Go on with your tale, Fergus. You were sliding down the trail in the dark and storm on the backs of those bishtars.”

Fergus told his story. He had now drunk enough kvad so that his head spun a little. He stifled a yawn.

“Naughty, naughty!” said Vázni, wagging a finger. “But, sooth to say, I, too, wax sleepy. Yet I’ll not forgo the rest of your tale of feats that overpass the Six Labors of Qarar. I know what!”

She rang the bell again. When the maid appeared, Vázni whispered to her. The girl hurried away, and Vázni rose.

“Come,” she said. “I’ve made sure we shan’t be disturbed.”

Taking Reith’s hand, she led him into her bedroom. Inside, she closed the door, faced Reith, and slid her hands up his arms. They kissed.

From then on, everything seemed to happen without volition, as in a dream. Reith was hardly aware of buttons and snaps; their garments seemed to flow off them as if somehow liquefied. Vázni’s jewels littered the rug.

They walked to the bed with neither haste nor hesitation, as if they had long known each other. Entry was as easy as that of a key into a well-oiled lock.

###

Reith was relaxing afterwards. Looking up from the pillow, Vázni said: “Fergus dear, what’s that little pit in the center of your belly? Is’t a scar from some wound?”

“Oh, you mean my navel, as we call it. You egg-layers don’t have them, do you? It has to do with—”

A deep voice said: “Well, well, sirrah! I trust you’ve found my cousin’s hospitality to your liking?”

Tashian, sword in hand, had entered the bedroom. Four armed guards followed him. The huge Regent wore the Krishnan version of a grin.

Reith made a strangled sound. There flashed through his head the Krishnan legend of the lovers Sivandi and Zerré. The latter had rescued the former from captivity by the giant Damghan. In their flight, however, they stopped to make love. Catching them
in coitu,
the giant had pinned both to the earth with a single thrust of his spear. Reith wondered if Tashian had something of the sort in mind. A naked man in his present posture was about as defenseless as one could be.

“Well, get up!” said Tashian. “You cannot lie there all night, and we have tasks to perform.”

Reith, who had been paralyzed with dismay, separated himself from Vázni. “Ouch!” he said as he planted a bare foot on one of Vázni’s jeweled ornaments on the floor.

“Look not so fearful, earthman,” continued Tashian. “I intend no murder or mutilation. Happily, there’s a less sanguinary way to repair the harm you’ve done our family’s honor, if you but do as required.”

“May—may I don my garments?”

“Certes! ’Twere clean against custom to wed naked, as do the savages of Zhamanak. You, too, Vázni.”

“Oh, Tashian!” said Vázni. “Mean you that?” Reith thought she looked entirely too pleased.

“Certes,” said the Regent. “I generally mean what I say, saving matters of diplomacy.”

“Mean you he shall be all mine?”

“Aye, little fluffhead. Finish your dressing, Master Reese. Oh, Father Khorsh! They’re decent. Come in.”

The priest said: “Good even, Master Reese. ’Tis a goodly while since I’ve had the pleasure of your company. Now, I understand, you and the Douri are fain to wed?”

“Uk,” said Reith, his eyes on the five naked swords.

“That’s ‘aye’ in one of those Terran tongues,” said Tashian.

“And you, my lady?”

“With all my liver,” said Vázni.

“Very well, then.” The priest went into a long prayer to Bákh, which Reith could not follow because it was in Old Varastou. Khorsh shot questions at the pair, to which Reith mumbled replies and Vázni gave clear ones. At last the priest said: “And now, by the authority vested in me, I declare that under the laws of Dur and the blessing of the immortal gods, Reese and Vázni are wedded, so to remain until severed by death or divorce. Love each other; support each other in adversity; bear and forbear.”

Khorsh produced a paper covered with hooks and curly-cues. Although Reith could not read it, he signed where indicated. Vázni also signed.

Khorsh intoned another archaic prayer and gave a blessing. Tashian handed the priest a golden coin. Khorsh thanked him, put the money in the wallet at his belt, bowed to Reith and Vázni, and went out.

“So, beloved cousin-by-marriage,” said Tashian, “a few simple words have enrolled you among the great ones of this mighty empire, as well as made you the consort of my shapely cousin. You might as well relax and enjoy your lot. Think not to slip away, either. You’ll be closely watched. Should you rashly essay to flee, know that there’s an island, called Pak, where I keep subjects whose freedom is dangerous to the state. None has ever escaped it.”

“But—but my tourists!” cried Reith. “I’m responsible for getting them back to Novo.”

“That shall be taken care of. Khorsh will guide them.”

“He speaks no English and they no Portuguese.”

“Then they must needs use sign language. And now goodnight. Pleasant dreams!”

Tashian and the guards went out. Vázni said: “Is’t not wonderful, Fergus? Long have I dreamed of an heroic husband, but my cousin has fended off all suitors. And now I have the most heroic husband of all, who can also stroke me a mighty stroke! ’Twas all I’d dreamed of; let’s do it again!”

“I see nought heroic about getting out of a few tight fixes I shouldn’t have gotten into in the first place,” said Reith. “As for more love-making, I fear you must wait until morn. The night’s events have sapped my heroic vigor. How can I get my gear from the Old Palace? I need at least my toothbrush.”

“I’ll send a servant for your things. Oh, darling, we shall be so happy!”

We shall see about that, thought Reith.

###

Five days later, Kenneth Strachan entered the room in the New Palace that had been turned over to Reith for his private study. Reith was frowning over a Duro grammar, trying to master the written form. A sheet of paper, covered with his squiggles, lay on the table.

“Ken!” he cried. “How did you get in? They’ve been keeping me away from all other earthmen.”

Strachan grinned. “I walked. The guards all knew me and let me by from force of habit. These folk are amusing, but efficient they are not.”

“How’d you hear where I was?”

“I saw your tourists off on the
Sárbez
this morning. Not seeing you among them, I asked about. I suppose I ought to congratulate you.”

“Or commiserate. It wasn’t my idea.” In a few words, Reith told of his forced marriage.

Strachan suppressed a chuckle. “You silly stirk! Don’t you see what Tashian’s doing? He wants to make sure Vázni bears no legitimate egg. If she hatches a male chick and it grows up, that’s the end of his power. He’s sure he’s the only one who can modernize and consolidate this great, sprawling empire, divided by feuds among feudal families, fanatical sects, tribal rivalries, blood-thirsty revolutionaries, class conflict, and everything else you can think of. He may be right about that.

“Up to now, he’s sent Vázni’s suitors packing, however rich or high-born or able. Vázni’s a hot little piece who wants a good stroking, but he makes sure she disna get it. Then come you, the answer to his prayer. If he marries her to you, there’ll be no egg, since he knows you and she are intersterile.

“He also knows you’re no threat to his power, since a foreigner—and even more a non-Krishnan—could never enlist a personal following. Tony Fallon got away with it for a while on Zamba, but those were the days when you could fool the Krishnans by disguising yourself as one. So Tashy lays a trap, and you walk blindly into it.”

“I thought there must be some such reason, but I was too dumb to see it.”

“How do you find her? D’ye love the lassie?”

“I like her; wouldn’t say loved. She’s pretty, even by our standards, and good-natured, with a certain girlish charm. She’s also a hell of a good lay. Trouble is, she wants it every night and morning. I think my endowments are normal, but I’m not quite up to such an exacting schedule. Also, she’s a flutter-wit and none too bright. My God, she’s dull! Next to lovemaking, she thinks mostly about clothes. After an hour with her, I’m bored and looking for an excuse to get away.”

“Weel, as the Krishnans say, count not the teeth of a gift shomal. Many a man finds a stupid wife just the ticket. Makes him feel big to do the thinking for both.”

“Not this
Ertsu.
I want to find my dream girl, settle down on good old earth, and have kids.”

Strachan shrugged. “Puir Fergus! Every female with a hot notch in her crotch makes a set for you. It must be that beautiful red hair.”

“Very flattering, but I could do with less flattery.”

“If you had an unco’ stiff yard, you should ha’ come with me. I’d have seen you were fucked out, so you wunda fall into the royal family’s trap.”

“It was that topless dress that did me in. Still, I doubt if Vázni knew what the Regent was up to. She hasn’t the brains—”

“Na, na, she just did what came naturally. But you’re not faring badly here.” Strachan glanced around.

“I’ve had my bellyful of what passes for luxury on Krishna. I don’t like even the fanciest jail, especially one without electricity, running water, or central heating.”

“You roughed it well enough in Zir.”

“That’s different. This sort of thing is okay for a visit but not for a life sentence.”

Strachan lowered his voice. “Have you thought of escaping? You got away from Barré and Shosti.”

“You bet I’ve thought of it! But Tashian’s thought of it, too. He has me watched night and day.”

“This episode won’t do Tashy’s tourism any good.”

“I told him that, but he just waved it off. Said if anything it would encourage tourism. I’d be his star attraction once I realized how lucky I was and settled down.”

“I know. He told your trippers you and Vázni were so madly in love he was forced to give in, and you’d decided to spend the rest of your life in Dur. Fact is, he likes the tourist trade, but he likes his power even more.

“Weel, keep your courage up, man. The Regent may die, or Vázni may die, or you may die. In either case, you’ll be free of your gilded cage. Now I’m off for Gha’id.”

“Give my best to Siggy.”

###

The three satellites of Krishna—Karrim, Golnaz, and Sheb—continued to orbit the planet. Little by little, as Reith played the devoted, contented consort, the restrictions upon him relaxed. He followed the tactics that had worked with the Witch of Zir.