The Hostage of Zir (16 page)

He attended state dinners, where he found that Krishnan orators could say even less in more words than those on earth. He went to diplomatic parties, where he discovered that those who had interesting inside information would say nothing about it, so that people talked of their houses, their children, their servants, their incomes, and their aches and pains. He officially opened a new bridge to traffic by cutting a rope across it with his sword.

He sat by the hour watching Vázni try on dresses brought to the palace by eager merchants. He felt some sympathy for the Regent. Vázni had bought so many garments on credit that, at her present clothing allowance, it would take years to pay for the clothes she already had.

Reith was reminded that his own ready cash would not last forever, even though he was eating free and spending little. He asked the Regent: “Your Excellence, as royal consort, shouldn’t I, too, receive a regular wage?”

“That you should, my lord Fergus.” (Tashian pronounced it “fog-gas”.) “As soon as our present problems of state grant me the leisure to think on’t, I’ll arrange a stipend.”

Although Reith renewed his request every few days thereafter, Tashian was always too busy to attend to the matter. The Regent did, however, find time to elevate Reith to knighthood—a rank that had become purely ornamental in Dur. Reith did not mind being addressed as “Garm” or “Sir” Fergus, but he would really have preferred an assured income, even a small one.

For the present, he managed for drink and sundries money by selling one of the emeralds from the girdle of his Senarzé temple costume. When these gave out, he wondered, would he have to hunt a job, say as a teacher of Terran languages?

One evening, suitably guarded, he attended a play with Vázni. This was a revival of Harian’s
The Conspirators,
in five acts and twenty-two scenes. He started to read a metrical romance,
Abbeq and Danqi,
in the original Gozashtandou. But he never got through more than a few of its 264 cantos, finding Duro spelling almost as erratic as that of English.

He wheedled from Tashian permission to walk abroad in Baianch, accompanied by four stalwart guardsmen. Then the Regent, ever alert for ways to cut expenses, reduced the escort to two and finally to one, an amiable but simple-minded young Duru named Tázád.

Reith explored the city as thoroughly as he had Senarzé, tramping down the slopes to the lower city and back up until his escorts complained of exhaustion. He borrowed scooters from the royal stables and, with his escorts, went bumping over the cobbles of Baianch.

###

One day, Reith and Tázád came out of a grog shop on the waterfront. Sitting on a bollard at the edge of the wharf, below the frowing gray battlements of the upper town, Reith said:
“Ohé,
what’s that yonder?”

He pointed to a vessel anchored out in the shimmering bay.

This ship differed greatly from the usual Va’andao square-rigger.

“That?” said Tázád. “Means Your Lordship that black craft with the tall pipe in the middle?” Tázád had a habit of making a questioner repeat every question.

“Aye, lad.”

“That, Sir Fergus, hight the
Mokinam,
a ship of the Prince of Sotaspé.”

“I thought I knew her,” mused Reith. “I’ve seen her before at Reshr.”

“They say she’s driven by a magical spell, the which Prince Ferrian stole from the earthmen,” said Tázád. “The priests warn us against such things, saying they’re worked with the aid of evil spirits.”

“What does Prince Ferrian here?”

“Mean, ye, Sir Fergus, on what business visits he Dur?”

“Certes.”

“Well, sir, I know not truly the secrets of the great. Your Altitude were better fitted than I to hear. They say he be here on some mission to His Excellence but dare not come ashore, lest Lord Tashian clap him up in prison. So the Regent’s man is busy all day, being rowed back and forth betwixt ship and shore, to carry the details of their chaffer.”

“Interesting,” said Reith, staring at the steamship. “Let’s have another drink.” Perhaps he could make Tázád insensible as he had the unfortunate Captain Parang.

Tázád said: “May it please Your Lordship, I’ll watch whilst ye drink but will decline the offer. My commander strictly charged me to stay sober.”

Reith grunted. Just his luck, to have so conscientious a Krishnan for watchdog! He took Tázád into the drink shop, ordered two kvads, and tried to tempt the Dura with one of them. Tázád, politely respectful, proved adamant. Not daring to put on enough pressure to arouse suspicion, Reith ended by drinking both mugs himself.

###

Two days later, the
Mokinam
was still at anchor. Although Tashian had tried to insulate Reith from the levers of power, Reith still managed to coax information of Ferrian’s visit from the Duruma whom he knew around the palaces. Krishnans were great gossips.

The visit, Reith learned, was not going well. Ferrian was constructing a federation of the islands of the Sadabao Sea; his own Sotaspé, Zamba, Jerud, Zá, Ulvanagh, and the rest. He wanted trading privileges for this confederacy in the Va’andao Sea, which the navy of Dur now barred to non-Duro ships. Tashian, on the other hand, would relax his monopoly of Va’andao shipping only on terms that virtually made the Sadabao Isles a Duro protectorate.

They said the negotiations were doomed to break down any day. From the waterfront, Reith gazed longingly at Prince Ferrian’s ship. Once the
Mokinam
steamed away, Bákh only knew when Reith would get another chance to flee. The day was warm, sunny, and windless, with scarcely a wave on the blue-green sea.

As Reith watched, a disturbance broke out on the waterfront. Someone was beating a fire gong. Smoke poured from a ship chandlers shop.

“Ohé,
a fire!” cried Tázád. “Let’s lend a hand with the buckets, Your Altitude!”

The guardsman ran towards the fire. Reith followed more slowly. Others converged on the scene. A whistle blew, and a squad of firemen jogged around a corner, pushing their engine. This was a large, empty wooden tub, piled with buckets, on wheels. A long-handled pump with a pivoted nozzle rose from the tub.

Shouting to make way, the firemen halted the apparatus in front of the burning shop. They handed out buckets to the gathering crowd, who formed a double line from the shop to the bay and back again. The linesmen passed empty buckets along one line and those filled with sea water back along the other. As the full buckets arrived at the engine, they were emptied into the tub. Firemen heaved on the pump handles, and a jet of water shot into the shop. Oblivious to Reith, Tázád was hard at work in one of the bucket lines.

Reith took a place at the seaward end of the empty-bucket line. He took buckets, leaned over the edge of the wharf, filled each bucket, and handed it to the end man of the other line. It was hot work.

“Ohé,
bean’t ye that earthman who married the Douri?” said a nearby Krishnan.

“The same,” panted Reith. “Here, you take my place for a spell.” Reith stepped aside to peel off his tunic and shirt

“Good for you!” said the Krishnan. “ ’Tis good to see Your Lordship’s not too high and mighty to help us poor folk—
Iyá!
What do ye?”

Freed of tunic and shirt, Reith glanced at Tázád. The guardsman had his back to him. Off went Reith’s shoes and trousers, leaving him in his underwear. Under his underwear, next to his skin, he wore the emerald-studded girdle from his Senarzean temple costume. Standing on the edge of the wharf, he dove off.

He came up sputtering in oily water. Garbage and other débris, including a dead eshun, bobbed on the ripples. Reith avoided the carcass and struck out for the
Mokinam.

A plume of blue smoke arose from the tall, thin stack of the ship. The sight spurred Reith to swim harder. The black ship might be leaving.

A glance behind showed several Krishnans in a cluster on the wharf, looking towards him. At this distance, Reith could not tell if one was Tázád. Most of the crowd were still concentrating on the fire.

Lack of breath forced Reith to slow down. The last hundred meters he made with a breast stroke as least tiring.

As Reith neared the ship, there were shouts of command and signs of activity. The anchor rope started to rise through the hawsehole.

“Hey!” called Reith, getting a mouthful of brackish water.

With a last effort, he swam to the anchor rope and seized it. Above, he could hear a chantey as the sailors walked the capstan round.

The rope continued to rise, pulling Reith out of the water. He locked his legs around the rope to relieve the strain on his arms. A meter below him, the anchor broke the surface.

Soon, Reith saw, he would have to let go to avoid having his hands jammed between the rope and the rim of the hawsehole. Watching the approach of the aperture, he waited until his hands were only centimeters from the hole. Releasing the rope, he grabbed the gunwale. He tried to hoist himself up to the rail but could not; his arms were too exhausted.

“Help!” he called. “Help! In the bow!”

Bare feet slapped the deck. A couple of weathered Krishnan faces looked over the rail. There was a rattle of speech, and a rope was dropped over the side within reach.

Reith grasped the rope with his remaining strength. The rope was drawn up until he could reach the rail. With horny hands grasping his arms to help, he tumbled over the rail and collapsed on the deck.

“Well, sir,” said a Krishnan voice in excellent English, “when we had our little fencing bout in Reshr, I never thought to fish you out of the sea like this. What in the name of all your Terran gods are you doing here?”

Prince Ferrian, booted and scarlet-sashed, stood before Reith with a hand on the jeweled hilt of his sword.

“I’m glad you remember me,” said Reith.

“I always remember faces. But how about answering my question?”

“It’s a long story, sir, and I’m out of breath. I’ll just say that the Regent was holding me prisoner, and I escaped.”

“What had you done to earn his ire?”

“Nothing. He picked me as a consort for the Douri and framed me into marrying her.”

“Really? Many would think you lucky; but tastes differ, especially as between Krishnans and Terrans. What became of your tourists?”

“They’ve gone back to Novo, I hope.”

Staring shoreward, Ferrian said: “Your escape seems to have been noticed. Here comes a boat with Tashian’s flag in the bow.”

“Please, Prince, don’t send me back!”

“Why shouldn’t I, Mr.—what’s your name again?”

“Fergus Reith.”

“Mr. Reith. One earthman means nothing to me, compared to the good of my realm. Neither have I much prejudice in favor of your species. Why should I rile Tashian more than I must?”

“I hear your negotiations with him have broken down.”

“True, but that doesn’t alter matters. Besides, if I don’t give you up, Tashian could come out and take you by force. He might grab me and my ship and crew in the bargain.”

“Can’t you just steam away?” asked Reith.

“Alas, no. I meant to, but something’s wrong with my damned engine. It won’t turn the paddle wheels. I have sails, but they’re no good in this flat calm.”

The approaching wherry was close enough for Reith to make out the scarlet yeki on the languidly flapping flag. A hail came across the water, and Ferrian stepped to the rail.

“What is it?” he shouted through a speaking trumpet.

“The Douri’s consort, an earthman, has fled to your ship, my lord. Give him to us.”

“Stall, Prince!” said Reith. “Tell him you’ll give him an answer later.”

Ferrian cracked a small smile. “Grant me an hour to sift the facts, gentles,” he called. He turned to Reith. “What’s your plan, Mr. Reith?”

The Krishnan in the bow of the wherry shouted back: “Nay, good my lord! The Regent demands this Reese creature forthwith!”

“I can fix your engine,” said Reith.

“Are you an engineer?”

“No, but I had to learn about such things when I taught school.”

Ferrian turned back to the boat. “I said, you shall have him when I have learned all the facts, and not before!”

“I bear the Regent’s command!” shrieked the Krishnan in the boat. “Lower the ladder at once, on pain of his displeasure!”

“You heard me,” replied Ferrian. “You shall have him ere sunset. That’s that.”

“You shall rue your contumely!” yelled the Duru. The boat swung round and headed back towards the pier.

“Very well, Mr. Reith,” said Ferrian. “If you can repair my balky engine, you’d better do so pretty damned quick.”

“In this calm,” said Reith, “how could Tashian’s sailing ships sail out to attack you?”

“They couldn’t, but he has a couple of galleys for such contingencies. He doesn’t use them often, because these waters are too stormy and they have poor sea-keeping ability. It’ll take time to round up the rowers, too. But you’d better get going, as you Americans say.”

###

Below, Reith found the Krishnan engineer puttering distractedly among the pipes and shafts and connecting rods. When Reith asked him for particulars, the Krishnan replied in so strong a dialect of Gozashtandou that Reith could not understand. He had to beg Ferrian to come down to translate.

Firewood blazed merrily in the furnace; water bubbled in the boiler. The safety valve opened with a shrill hiss, sent out clouds of vapor for half a minute, and then closed again. But the crankshaft turned not.

Reith went over the machinery, trying to remember the diagrams and texts of the children’s books of science, with which he had once been familiar. The engine was a simple two-cylinder, single-expansion reciprocating steam engine, of a type virtually extinct on earth outside museums of technology.

Reith could find no leaks in the piping. The main cylinder packing seemed to be in order. He could find nothing wrong with the eccentrics. What in heaven’s name could ail so simple a machine and not be obvious to even a non-expert like himself?

A crewman called down the ladder. Prince Ferrian said: “Excuse me, Mr. Reith. They tell me the galleys are coming out. Tashian’s manned them more quickly than I expected.”

The prince scrambled back up the ladder. The safety valve continued to pop at intervals, making the air steamy. Reith wiped the sweat out of his eyes and went over the engine again. Could the crankshaft bearings have seized up? They looked all right, but one would have to disassemble the connecting rods to be sure.