The Hostage of Zir (9 page)

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A strange sound aroused Reith at sunrise. Looking out the window, he sighted Strachan, in his usual Krishnan costume, marching around the courtyard playing the bagpipes. Reith pulled on his clothes and went down to the yard, finding Strachan in a discussion with the taverner.

“One of my workmen disappeared during the night,” Strachan explained. “Mine host here tells me this same Krishnan had passed through here going east a few days ago, stabled an aya with him, and took the train to Baianch. When our train arrived, this fellow came with the others. He just paid his stable charges and rode off.”

“What’s the catch?” asked Reith.

“The catch, laddie, is that he passed himself off as an ordinary construction worker and signed up with my crew, when he was evidently nocht of the sort. For one thing, a workman doesn’t make enough siller to keep an aya. I think he’s a spy, sent by Barré to report on the progress of the railroad.”

“Does that put my people in danger?”

Strachan frowned. “Na, lad; I think not. At least, no more than they’d be in anyway, anywhere on this turbulent planet. Barré has no motive for molesting your folk. Besides, we’re not that close to the border—if you can say there is a definite border.

“Anyway, Tashian has sent us a squad of lazy troopers to protect us. We asked for a company, but Tashy moaned about the expense.” He shrugged. “It’s in the hands of almighty Bákh, anyhow. You might say a prayer to him.”

Reith hesitated. “Well—ah . . .”

Strachan clapped Reith on the back. “Come on, Fergus ma boy! You’ll be all right. I’ll personally escort your people around, to see that they don’t get into trouble. You’ll be safer than you ever were on that ship, what with storms and pirates and a’.”

“All right,” said Reith. While on one hand he felt he was acting against his better judgment, on the other he was relieved to avoid the embarrassment of telling his tourists they had to turn back in the middle of their journey.

“Sail!” cried Strachan. “That’s the spirit! I’ll tell you. The Krishnans are all right; but a man gets damned tired of never having another Terran to talk to. The Svensk is a good boss and a fine engineer, but he’s as talkative as a gravestone. Time we were at breakfast, if we wullna hold up the train.” He played a final run on his bagpipes and went in.

VII

THE BANDIT KING

At Gha’id, Fergus Reith and his dozen climbed painfully down from their car. John Turner said: “After three days in that thing, I feel like the little ball that whirls round and round in a cop’s whistle. I wouldn’t have believed anything moving so slowly could bounce around so.”

Reith told his people to stay where they were while he went off to count the baggage. Further aft, Strachan was supervising the descent of his Krishnan workers. When Reith returned to his group, he found a tall, thin, dark-haired Terran approaching.

“You are Mr. Reith?” said this one, extending a hand. “I am Sigvard Lund.” The engineer spoke British English, with hardly a trace of the accent of his native Sweden. “If you will follow me, I shall show you to your accommodations. We had to build a quarter for you, since Gha’id has no inn. This way, be so good.”

The “quarter” was a barrack of rough-hewn planks, with four small rooms and one large one. The three married couples were assigned to three of the small compartments and Mrs. Whitney Scott and Shirley Waterford the remaining small one, while the rest of the men occupied bunks in the main room. There was a little excitement as the new arrivals disturbed some noxious-looking Krishnan scuttlers, but these were soon either stamped on or chased out.

After seeing his group and their baggage stowed, Reith told Strachan and Lund: “My people will need to rest tomorrow. The train trip sort of used them up.”

“They are spoiled by Terran luxury,” said Lund austerely.

“Maybe so; but some are pretty old. Besides, they need time off to write letters and wash their socks.”

The door of the engineers’ sitting room opened. In came a young Krishnan in a Duro army uniform, with scarlet tunic, polished cuirass, winged helmet, and clanking sword.

“Fergus,” said Strachan, “this is Gandubán vash-Sherdurogh, in command of our little guard. I suppose you’d call him about a third lieutenant.” In Durou he said: “I present Master Fergus var-Reith, in command of the tourists.”

Gandubán clicked heels, bowed, and shot out a hand. In barely comprehensible English, he said: “I is enchanted, good kind sir! I is honored! May you here stay happy be! I do anysing to help, wiz my brave men. I de good English speak, don’t I not?”

Reith let his hand be wrung. When they were seated again, he resumed: “Then, the day after tomorrow, if you could get them out to the construction site, that should wrap it up. The next day, they’ll be ready to leave.”

Lund looked relieved. “You do not plan to remain longer?”

“No. They’ll have seen all they want to.”

“Excellent! I do not wish to appear inhospitable, Mr. Reith, and I am glad to see fellow Terrans from time to time. But your presence places a heavy responsibility on me, and your people are bound to delay our construction work. Even if you keep them from getting in the way, our workmen—many of whom have never seen an
Ertsur
—will stop work to gape.

“I shall order another special made up. We have an accumulation of empty goods wagons here, anyway, and it is time that some were returned to Baianch.”

“Fine. When do we eat?”

“Soon. We should be glad to have you dine with us, but I suppose you are compelled to eat with your group?”

“On the contrary, Magic Carpet lets me eat away from them whenever possible.”

“How so?”

“Look, if you had to listen to complaints and silly suggestions and hunt mislaid baggage and settle arguments all day long, wouldn’t you want to get away from them?”

“Ah, I see. Very well, we shall be delighted. Kenneth, open the bottle, be so good.”

Next morning, Reith watched as Gandubán drilled his twelve soldiers in leather jacks studded with bronze buttons. They marched and countermarched. They practiced swordsmanship, using nearby trees as pells. They shot arrows at butts. When the guardsmen were dismissed, Gandubán approached Reith, crying: “Ah, de brave earsman! De explorer of strange worlds!”

Reith looked sharply to see if the Krishnan was being sarcastic, but nothing in Gandubán’s tone or expression implied such a thing. Gandubán continued: “I am great admire of earsmans. If you please, sir, I pray my English on you to practice. Already de good Portuguese I speak:
Tamates! Graças a Deus! Va para 0 diablo!
So now I de English to learn must.”

Reith replied in careful Durou: “I am sure, Master Gandubán, that my Durou is more in need of practice than your English.”

“Okay, den, we some English, some Durou speak. Someday, earsmans all Krishna, as de earsmans call our world, will rule. Den de man who can speak good Terran de good jobs get. I ready will be.”

“Oh, come,” said Reith. “You know the I.C. strictly forbids any sort of imperialism. The people at Novorecife may not interfere, even when our own people get into trouble—”

“Oh ho! You sink I simple am, believe dat? I read Terran history, in de Brazilian mission school. I know. Nations wiz de best weapon, dey send spies who say dey be just missionaries, traders, scientists. Spies stir up trouble, give governments excuse to send soldiers. Pretty soon, backwards people all slaves of advance people. Happen over and over. Now it happen on Krishna, wiz people call demself missionary, scientist, now tourist.” He winked at Reith, who had not before seen this gesture on Krishna. Gandubán must have learned it in the mission school. “But no worry. Gandubán—how you say?—land on him foots.”

Reith argued but soon gave up, since Gandubán’s conviction was not to be shaken. He traded language practice with the officer but was not sorry when the approach of lunch time gave him an excuse to go see to his tourists. Later, Strachan told him: “I don’t know how good a soldier Gandubán is, but he’s too soapy by half. He’ll lass the arse of any Terran who he thinks might have influence at Novo. If anyone was ever on the make, as you Yanks say, it’s that young bladderskate. But that’s these damned mission schools for you.”

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The morning of the day of leisure, Reith dropped in on Sigvard Lund, whom he found in his shed, working on a topographical map. Reith tried to engage Lund in conversation, hoping to pump him on the dangers of local travel. The tall Swede, however, proved as taciturn as Strachan was loquacious. Moreover, Lund indicated politely but firmly that he was a busy man without time for chit-chat.

Going out, Reith found Gandubán bustling up. “Mr. Reese!” cried the lieutenant. “What good chance! My mans is just dismiss. Now we practice de languages, not?”

The Krishnan attached himself to Reith with limpetlike adhesiveness. To make the best of the situation, Reith said: “Tell me what you know about Barré vas-Sarf, please.”

“Oh, dat big cliff!”

“Cliff? I don’t—”

“You know; word mean place where land up steep go; also mean man who talk loud, don’t nossing do.”

“Oh, you mean ‘bluff’!”

“Yes, of course. See how value to me you is? Barré is just big bluff. Ride around, talk loud about stopping de railroad. Don’t do nossing, really. Just bandit. My brave soldiers could chase away hundred times as many Ziruma. We no bluff! We real warriors!” Gandubán swept out his sword and made fencing motions. “You fence wiz sword?”

“I’ve had a little practice, but I’m sure you could cut my heart out on the first pass.”

“Fine! We practice de fence, too! On guard!”

“Hey, not with real steel! Wait till I get my singlesticks. I’m out of practice.”

“How clever!” said Gandubán when he saw the fencing masks and jackets. “You earsmans always do sings de right way. Dat why you rule my world someday. Now, on guard, my lord!”

A sweaty hour later, the Krishnan said: “You surprise; you good. Of course, you just beginning; I been doing for years. I ready for rest if you be. Come, we take shower bass.”

The shower was a stall in which the bather stood, while his fellow climbed a ladder outside with a bucket of water. This he poured on a kind of grating or strainer over the bather’s head.

When they stripped, Reith found Gandubán staring at Reith’s person with an intentness that made Reith uneasy. Since, however, the Krishnan attempted no familiarities, Reith supposed it to be mere curiosity. Gandubán said: “When Lund hear you coming, he make workers nail up dese curtains. Say many earsmen have funny idea about letting ozzers see dem wiz no clozes.”

Reith yelled as icy water cascaded through the grating upon him. Dried and reclad, he asked in Durou: “Now, pray, tell me about this Witch of Zir they speak of.”

“Oh, that,” Gandubán made a gesture of deprecation. “Will you, good my lord, flatter me by accepting this cigar?”

“Thank you, but nay. I smoke not. What about this witch?”

“Among the Ziruma there wafts about, like unto gossamer upon the morning’s breeze, a wild, fantastic tale. Somewhere, they say, in the mountains dwells a sorceress immortal, attended by a retinue of imps and demons of incredible forms bizarre. Such is the beauty of this jade that no mere male against her can prevail. When one into her embraces is lured, instead of the ecstasy the foolish wight anticipates, he is forthwith of certain parts and organs tragically bereft. These, the witch employs in composition of potions magical.

“The victim is then cast forth, alive but of only limited capacity. It is, I need not stress to one of Your Lordship’s acuteness, mere superstition.” Gandubán flicked an ash from his cigar. “None has upon one of these piteous mutilates set eyes. Even we poor backward Duruma are too sophisticated, such macaronic taradiddles to believe.”

“Natheless,” answered Reith, “the tale’s not one to—to inspire confidence in him who guides so scatterbrained a flock as mine.” Reith was feeling a little green from the smoke of the Krishnan’s mighty cigar.

“Fear not, good my lord!” cried Gandubán. “With my gallant men and me to ward you, you’ll be as safe as in the heart of Baianch fortress. We stand alert to shed our very lives, ere suffering a single hair of the earthfolks’ hair to be harmed!”

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At night, the bishtars were staked out in a line outside the camp. The line contained a score of the monsters. During the day, several were taken out to work on the construction site, while others were turned loose to forage.

“You’ve got to give them as much time eating as working,” explained Strachan. “That pair that towed us from Baianch have done nocht but stuff themselves ever since. These four are for your folk.”

Four bishtars had been led out of the line and now stood in a row, swaying from side to side. Krishnan workers lowered rope ladders from the howdahs and motioned Reith and his following to climb.

Mrs. Whitney Scott, to Reith’s relief, had begged off. “I hate to miss anything,” she said, “but at my age one sometimes has to.”

That left Reith with eleven tourists. Strachan was going along to explain the sights. Gandubán and four of his soldiers were drawn up in a line, awaiting orders.

Each howdah contained six seats. Reith therefore divided his party among the bishtars, saying: “Will you take the lead animal, Ken, so you can tell us what we’re coming to? I’ll take the rear, to watch the rest. Lieutenant Gandubán, will you please put one soldier in each howdah and seat yourself on one of the middle animals?”

“Our valiant arms,” said Gandubán in Durou, “shall be ever at Your Lordship’s service.”

When all were stowed, the leading mahout cried:
“Boí vegh!
and blew a shrill little trumpet. His bishtar shuffled westward along the service road, which paralleled the rail line. The other three beasts followed. Although the howdahs rocked, the motion was easier than that of the rail car.

When they overtook a shaihan cart loaded with railroad ties, the bishtars had to crowd against the trees on one side of the road to get past the vehicle. Reith and his tourists fended off branches.

The road sloped up as they approached snow-capped Mount Kehar. Between the mountain and the sea, a ridge extended, rising to a point just before the slope plunged down into the Va’andao.

Turning in his seat to call back, Strachan explained: “The slope down to the water’s too steep and rocky for us to put the rail line between yon peak and the sea, so we must go up over the saddle. It’s a pretty problem. We have to branch off to the right, halfway round Mount Kehar, rising all the time, till we find a place flat enough to loop back and on up over the saddle. By the time we get down the other side, we shall have made an almost complete circle around the mountain.”

“Why not go straight up over the pass?” asked a voice.

“Because the grade’s too steep. We’ve got to keep the line below maximum grade, so the beasties can pull the cars up and the cars won’t run away from us on the way down. The service road goes up this side of the pass by switchbacks, but a rail line carina make such sharp turns.”

The service road forked, one branch going off to the right to follow the rail line and the other taking the shorter but steeper route up the pass. The party followed the left fork, which soon began to zigzag up the slope.

After several switchbacks, the group reached the construction site near the top of the pass. The rail line came in from the right, converging upon the service road.

First, the visitors came upon a crowd of Krishnan workers laying ties, spiking qong-wood rails down upon them, and shoveling gravel on the ties to ballast them.

Higher, another crowd was grading the right of way. A pair of bishtars, obeying the shouts of their mahouts, were clearing trees and brush. The larger trees they pushed over with their heads and dragged aside. The smaller trees and bushes they uprooted by wrapping both stubby trunks around the plant and heaving. A pile of brushwood crackled, sputtered, and sent up a cloud of blue smoke.

Another bishtar pulled a wheeled scraper blade to level the ground. Behind it, more workers shoveled dirt on the right of way and raked it level. Two more bishtars tramped back and forth to compact the soil.

Ahead of the grading area, a double line of stakes led off into the forest. Reith’s bishtars followed the service road further, paralleling the stakes. Presently they caught up with more Krishnans and Sigvard Lund. The chief engineer was surveying the route with a simple instrument. This was a small plane table with plumb bobs for leveling and sights on top. Reith reflected that George Washington must have made his surveys with some such device. The Interplanetary Council forbade modern transits.