Planet of Adventure Omnibus (15 page)

The caravan
halted on an oval area covered with thick short grass, and Baojian immediately
called all the personnel of the caravan about him. “This is Golsse, an Old
Chasch city. Do not leave the immediate area, or you may be subject to Old
Chasch tricks. These can be mere mischiefs’ such as trapping you in a maze or
dosing you with an essence that will cause you to exude a frightful odor for
weeks. But if they become excited, or feel particularly humorous, the tricks
may be cruel or fatal. On one occasion they stupefied one of my drivers with
essence, grafted new features on his face and a great gray beard as well.
Remember, then: do not under any circumstances stray from this oval, even
though the Chasch may tease or tempt you. They are an old and decayed race;
they are without pity and think only of their odors and essences, and their
fanciful jokes. So be warned: keep to the oval, do not wander off in the
gardens, no matter what the beguilement, and if you value your life and sanity,
do not enter the Old Chasch domes.”

He said no
more.

Goods were
loaded upon the low Chasch motor-drays, operated by a few dispirited Chaschmen:
smaller and perhaps not so evolved as the Blue Chaschmen Reith had seen before.
They were slight and stooped, with gray wrinkled faces, bulging foreheads,
mouths puckered into little buds above nonexistent chins. Like the Blue
Chaschmen they wore a false scalp which butted over their eyes and rose to a
point. Their demeanor was furtive and hurried, they spoke to none of the
caravan personnel, and had eyes only for their work. Four Old Chasch presently
appeared. They walked directly below the barrack car; Reith saw them close at
hand and was reminded of large silverfish grotesquely endowed with semi-human
legs and arms. Their skin was like ivory satin, almost imperceptibly scaled;
they seemed fragile, almost desiccated; they had eyes like small silver
pellets, independently swiveling and in constant motion. Reith watched them
with great interest; they felt his gaze and paused to look up to where he sat.
They nodded and gave him affable gestures, to which Reith replied in kind. For
a moment longer they inspected him with their bright silver eyes, and then
passed on.

Baojian
wasted no time at Golsse. As soon as he had reloaded his drays with cases of
drugs and tinctures, bales of lacy cloth, dried fruit in cakes and packs, he
marshaled the wagons and set off once more to the north, preferring to pass the
night on the open steppe rather than risk the caprices of the Old Chasch.

The steppe
was empty grassland, flat as a table. Standing on the barrack-wagon Reith could
see twenty miles through his scope, and so spied a large band of Green Chasch
even before the scouts. He notified Baojian, who immediately ordered the
caravan into a defensive ring with the guns commanding the entire surrounding
area. The Green Chasch loped up on their massive beasts, holding yellow and
black flags afloat on their lances, signifying truculence and bellicosity. “They
have just come down from the north,” Traz told Reith. “This is the meaning of
the flags. They gorge on fluke-fish and angbut; their blood becomes rich and
thick, which makes them irritable. When they fly yellow and black even the
Emblems retire rather than face them in battle.”

Yellow and
black flags regardless, the Green warriors did not molest the caravan but
halted a mile distant. Reith studied them through his scope, to see creatures
vastly different from the Old Chasch. These were seven and eight feet tall,
massive and thick-limbed, their scales clearly defined and of a glistening
metallic green. Their faces were small, brooding, wickedly ugly under the
massive jut of their scalps. They wore rude leather aprons and shoulder
harness, in which hung swords, battle-picks and catapults similar to those of
the Emblems. Troublesome creatures to encounter in close combat, thought Reith.
They sat on their beasts studying the caravan for a full five minutes, then
swung away and bounded off to the east.

The caravan
re-formed itself and continued along the track. Traz was puzzled by the
diffidence of the Green Chasch. “When they carry yellow and black, they are
insensate. Perhaps they prepare an ambush from behind a forest.”

Baojian
suspected a similar stratagem and kept his scouts far forward for the next few
days. At night there were no special precautions taken, inasmuch as the Green
Chasch became torpid in the dark and huddled in groaning grunting masses until
daybreak.

Pera lay
ahead: the caravan terminus. Reith’s transcom specified a vector of sixty miles
west to the mate transcom. He made inquiry of the caravan-master, who informed
him that the Blue Chasch city Dadiche was situated at this location. “Avoid
them; a wicked lot they are, subtle as the Old Chasch, savage as the Greens.”

“They have no
commerce with men?”

“There is
considerable trade; in fact, Pera is a depot for trade with the Blue Chasch,
which is carried on by a caste of draymen operating out of Pera; only these
draymen gain access to Dadiche. Of all the Chasch I find the Blues most
detestable. The Old Chasch are not a friendly folk, but they are malicious,
rather than harsh. Sometimes of course, the effect is the same, just as the
storm”-he pointed toward the west where great masses of black cloud filled the
sky-”will wet us no less than submersion in the ocean.”

“You will
turn directly about at Pera and return to Coad on the Dwan Zher?”

“Within three
days.”

“In all
likelihood the Princess Ylin-Ylan will return with you and take ship for Cath.”

“All very
well; can she pay?”

“Certainly.”

“Then there
is no difficulty. What of you? Do you wish to go to Cath likewise?”

“No. I’ll
probably remain at Pera.”

Baojian, with
a darting glint of a glance for Reith, gave his head a wry shake. “The Golden
Yao of Cath are estimable folk. But then, nothing of Tschai is predictable
except trouble. The Green Chasch are dogging us. A miracle that they have not
attacked. I begin to hope that we may reach Pera without incident.”

Baojian was
to be denied. With Pera already in view-a city of ruined halls and toppled
monuments surrounding a central citadel, much like those others they had passed-the
Green Chasch bounded in from the east. Coincidentally the storm broke.
Lightning crashed down upon the steppe; to the south black brooms of rain swept
down upon the land.

Baojian
decided that Pera offered no refuge and ordered the caravan into its defensive
circle. Barely soon enough: this time the Green Chasch showed neither
indecision nor diffidence. Bent low on their great beasts, they came charging
forward, intent only on penetrating the ring of wagons.

The caravan
guns gave their curious gurgling belch, barely heard through the thunder, and
the rain made efficient weapon handling difficult. The Green Chasch,
coordinated perhaps telepathically, bounded forward; some were struck by the
sand blast and killed; some were crushed under their toppling beasts. For a
space there was sheer confusion, then new ranks sprang over the thrashing
bodies. Again the gunners fired frantically through the rain, with the
lightning and thunder providing a mind jarring accompaniment to the battle.

The Green
Chasch fell faster than they could advance, and changed their tactics. Those
who had been dismounted, crouched behind leaphorse hulks, brought their
catapults to bear; the first shower of bolts killed three gunners. The mounted
warriors charged again, hoping to gain the circle by sheer momentum. Again,
they were thrown back, the vacated guns having been manned by drivers, and
again there was a shower of bolts and more gunners dropped from the gun
platforms.

The Green
Chasch lunged forward a third time, their mounts bounding and capering. Behind
them, lightning fractured the black sky, with the thunder an incessant
background to the cries and screams of the battle. The Green Chasch were taking
terrible losses, the ground heaved with groaning shapes, but others leapt forward
and at last the guns were in range of Green Chasch swords.

The result of
the battle was no longer in doubt. Reith took the Flower of Cath’s hand,
beckoned to Traz. The three struck out for the city, joining a line of
panic-stricken fugitives from the barrack-wagons, which now was joined by the
drivers and surviving gunners. The caravan was abandoned.

Screaming in
triumph, the Green Chasch bounded among the fugitives, hacking off heads,
chopping down through necks and shoulders. A flaming-eyed warrior lunged at
Reith, Ylin-Ylan and Traz. Reith had his gun ready, but hesitated to waste the
precious pellets and dodged under the hissing sword-stroke. The leap-horse,
swerving, skidded on the wet turf; the warrior was flung bellowing sidewise.
Reith ran forward, raised his Emblem cutlass high, hacked at the thick neck,
cut through cords, filaments and tubes. The warrior kicked and thrashed in
appalling reluctance to die; the three did not wait. Reith took up the sword,
which was somewhat crudely forged from a single bar of steel as tall as himself
and wide as his arm. It was too heavy and long to be wieldy; he cast it down.
The three proceeded through the rain, now falling in such heavy sheets as to
obscure vision. The Green Chasch occasionally were glimpsed as bounding
phantoms; occasionally the wraith-like shapes of fugitives could be seen,
bending forward, crouched to the rain, hurrying with all speed for the ruins of
Pera.

In sodden
clothes, with the ground streaming beneath their feet, the three finally reached
a tumble of concrete slabs marking the outskirts of Pera, and considered
themselves somewhat safer from the Green Chasch. They took shelter under an
overhanging jut of concrete, to stand shivering and miserable while the rain
thrashed down in front of their faces. Traz said philosophically, “At least we
are at Pera, where we intended to come.”

“Ingloriously,”
said Reith, “but alive.”

“Now what do
you think to do?”

Reith reached
into his pouch, brought forth the transcom, checked the vector indicator. “It
points to Dadiche, twenty miles west. I suppose I’ll go there.”

Traz gave a
disapproving sniff. “The Blue Chasch will deal severely with you.”

The girl of
Cath suddenly leaned against the wall, put her face in her hands and began to
weep: the first time Reith had seen her give way to emotion. Somewhat
tentatively he patted her shoulder. “What’s the trouble? Other than being cold,
wet, hungry and scared?”

“I’ll never
be home to Cath. Never! I know this.”

“Of course
you will! There will be other caravans!”

The girl,
clearly unconvinced, wiped her eyes and stood looking out across the dismal
landscape. The rain now began to slacken. The lightning flickered off to the
east; the thunder became a sullen rumble. A few minutes later the clouds broke
and sunlight slanted through the rain to glisten on wet stone and puddles. The
three, still somewhat damp, emerged from their refuge, almost to collide with a
small man in an ancient leather cloak, carrying a bundle of faggots. He jumped
back in alarm, dropped his bundle, darted back to snatch it up and was about to
race away when Reith caught hold of his cloak. “Wait! Not so fast! Tell us
where we can find food and shelter!”

The man’s
face slowly relaxed. Warily, under bushy eyebrows, he looked from one to the
other, then with great dignity jerked his cloak from Reith’s grasp. “Food and
shelter: these be hard to come by; only by toil. Can you pay?”

“Yes, we can
pay.”

The man
considered. “Now, I have a comfortable dwelling, of three apertures...”
Reluctantly he shook his head. “But best that you go to the Dead Steppe Inn. If
I took you in, the Gnashters would gain my profit, and I would have naught.”

“The Dead
Steppe Inn is the best of Pera?”

“Yes, a fine
hostelry indeed. The Gnashters will tax your wealth, but this is what we must
pay for our security. In Pera no one may rob or rape but Naga Goho and the
Gnashters; and this is a boon. What if everyone enjoyed this license?”

“Naga Goho is
the ruler of Pera, then?”

“Yes, one
might say so.” He pointed to a massive structure of blocks and slabs on the
central eminence of the city. “There is his palace, on the citadel, and there
he lives with his Gnashters. But I will say no more; after all, they have
worried the Phung out to North Pera; there is trade with Dadiche; bandits avoid
the city; affairs could be the worse.”

“I see,” said
Reith. “Well then, where do we find the inn?”

“Yonder, at
the foot of the hill: at the caravan’s end.”

THE DEAD
STEPPE INN was the most grandiose structure Reith had yet seen in a ruined
city: a long building with a complicated set of roofs and gables built against
the central hill of Pera. As in all the inns of Tschai, there was a large
common-room with trestle-tables, but rather than rude benches, the Dead Steppe
Inn boasted fine high-backed chairs of carved black wood. Three chandeliers of
colored glass and black iron illuminated the room; on the walls hung a number
of very old terra-cotta masks: visages of some fanciful half-human folk.

The tables
were crowded with fugitives from the caravan; a savory odor of food hung in the
air. Reith began to feel somewhat more cheerful. Here, at least, were a small
few concessions to comfort and style.