Planet of Adventure Omnibus (23 page)

Reith held
the lamp close. “Chaschmen.”

From a tank
to the side of the room he filled pannikins of water and brought them to the
cages.

The Chaschmen
drank avidly and clamored for more, which Reith brought to them.

Heavy cages
at the far end of the room held a pair of massive motionless figures with
towering conical scalps.

“Green
Chasch,” whispered Traz. “What did Naga Goho do with these?”

Anacho said, “Notice:
they peer in a single direction only, the direction of their horde. They are
telepathic.”

Reith dipped
up two more pans of water, thrust them into the cages of the Green Chasch. The
creatures reached ponderously, sucked the pans dry.

Reith
returned to the Chaschmen. “How long have you been here?”

“A long, long
time,” croaked one of the captives. “I cannot say how long.”

“Why were you
caged?”

“Cruelty!
Because we were Chaschmen!”

Reith
returned to the committeemen. “Did you know they were here?”

“No! Naga
Goho did as he pleased.”

Reith moved
the linch-pins, opened the doors. “Come forth; you are free. The men who
captured you are dead.”

The Chaschmen
timorously crept forth. They went to the tank and drank more water. Reith
turned back to examine the Green Chasch. “Very strange, strange indeed.”

“Perhaps Goho
used them as indicators,” Anacho suggested. “He would know at all times the
direction of their horde.”

“No one can
talk to them?”

“They do not
talk; they transfer thoughts.”

Reith turned
to the committeemen. “Send up a dozen men, to carry the cages down to the
plaza.”

“Bah,”
muttered Bruntego the Gray. “Best kill the ugly beasts! Kill the Chaschmen as
well!”

Reith turned
him a quick glare. “We are not Gnashters! We kill from necessity only! As for
the Chaschmen, let them go back to their servitude, or stay here as free men,
whatever they wish.”

Bruntego gave
a sour grunt. “If we do not kill them, they will kill us.”

Reith, making
no answer, turned the lamp toward the remote parts of the dungeon, to find only
dank stone walls. He could not learn how the Pnume had departed the chamber,
nor could the Chaschmen give any coherent information. “They would come, silent
as devils, to look at us, with never a word, nor would they bring us water!”

“Odd
creatures,” ruminated Reith.

“They are the
weirds of Tschai!” cried the Chaschmen, trembling to the emotion of their new
freedom. “They should be purged from the planet!”

“As well as
the Dirdir, the Wankh and the Chasch,” said Reith, grinning.

“No, not the
Chasch. We are Chasch, did you not know?”

“You are men.”

“No, we are
Chasch in the larval stage; this is prime verity!”

“Bah!” said
Reith, suddenly angry. “Take off those ridiculous false heads.” He stepped
forward, jerked away the conical headpieces. “You are men, you are nothing
else! Why do you allow the Chasch to victimize you?”

The Chaschmen
fell silent, glancing fearfully at the cages as if they expected a new
incarceration.

“Come,” said
Reith brusquely. “Let’s get out of here.”

A week
passed. With nothing better to do, Reith flung himself into his job. He selected
a group of the most obviously intelligent young men and women, whom he would
teach and who would teach others. He formed a civic militia, delegating
authority in this case to Baojian, the erstwhile caravan-master. With the help
of Anacho and Tostig the old Nomad, he drew up a tentative legal code. Over and
over he explained the benefits to be derived from his innovations, arousing a
variety of responses: interest, apprehension, dubious sneers, enthusiasm, as
often as not blank incomprehension. He learned that there was more to
organizing a government than merely giving orders; he was required to be
everywhere at once. And always at the back of his mind was apprehension: what
were the Blue Chasch planning? He could not believe that they had so easily abandoned
their efforts to capture him. Beyond doubt they employed spies. They would
therefore be informed of events in Pera, and hence be in no great haste. But
sooner or later they would come to take him. A man of ordinary prudence would
flee Pera instantly. Reith, for a variety of reasons, was disinclined to
flight.

The Chaschmen
from the dungeons displayed no eagerness to return to Dadiche; Reith assumed
that they were fugitives from Chasch justice. The Green Chasch warriors were a
problem. Reith could not bring himself to kill them, but popular opinion would
have been outraged had he released them outright. As a compromise the cages
stood in the plaza, and the creatures served as a spectacle for the people of
Pera. The Green Chasch ignored the attention, facing steadily to the north,
telepathically linked-so stated Anacho-to the parent horde.

Reith’s
principal solace was the Flower of Cath, although the girl mystified him. He
could not read her mood. During the long caravan journey she had been
melancholy, distrait, somewhat haughty. She had become gentle and loving, if at
times absentminded. Reich found her more alluring than ever, full of a hundred
sweet surprises. But her melancholy persisted.

Homesickness,
decided Reith; almost certainly she longed for her home in Cath. With a dozen
other preoccupations, Reith postponed the day when he must reckon with Derl’s
yearnings.

The three
Chaschmen, so Reith presently learned, were not citizens of Dadiche, but hailed
from Saaba, a city to the south. One evening in the common-room they took Reith
to task for what they characterized as “extravagant ambitions.” “You wish to
ape the higher races; you will only come to grief! Sub-men are incapable of
civilization.”

“You don’t
know what you’re talking about,” said Reith, amused by their earnestness.

“Of course we
do; are we not Chaschmen, the larval stage of the Blue Chasch? Who would know
better?”

“Anyone with
a smattering of biology.”

The Chaschmen
made fretful gestures. “A sub-man, you; and jealous of the advanced race.”

Reith said, “In
Dadiche I saw the mortuary or death-house-whatever you call it. I saw the Blue
Chasch split a dead Chaschman s skull and put a Blue Chasch imp into the cold
brains. They play games with you; they trick you to ensure your servitude. The Dirdir
no doubt use a parallel technique upon the Dirdirmen, though I doubt if the
Dirdirmen expect to become Dirdir.” He looked down the table to Anacho. “What
of that?”

Anacho’s
voice trembled slightly. “The Dirdirmen do not expect to become Dirdir; this is
superstition. They are Sun, we are Shade; but both from the Primeval Egg.
Dirdir are the highest form of cosmic life; Dirdirmen can only emulate, and
this we do, with pride. What other race has produced such glory, achieved such
magnificence?”

“The race of
men,” said Reith.

Anacho’s face
twitched in a sneer. “In Cath? Lotus-eaters. The Merribs? Vagrant artisans. The
Dirdir stand alone on Tschai.”

“No, no, no!”
bawled the Chaschmen simultaneously. “Submen are the culls and dross of
Chaschmen. Some become clients of the Dirdir. True men come from Zoor, the
Chasch world.”

Anacho turned
away in disgust. Reith said, “This is not the case, though I don’t expect you
to believe me. You are both wrong.”

Anacho the
Dirdirman spoke in a voice carefully casual. “You are so definite; you puzzle
me. Perhaps you can enlighten us further.”

“Perhaps I
can,” said Reith. “At the moment I don’t care to do so.”

“Why not?”
Anacho persisted. “Such enlightenment would be useful to all of us.”

“The facts
are as well-known to you as they are to me,” said Reith. “Draw your own
deductions.”

“Which facts?”
blurted the Chaschmen. “What deductions?”

“Aren’t they
plain? The Chaschmen are in servitude, precisely as are the Dirdirmen. Men are
not biologically compatible with either of these races, nor with the Wankh nor
the Pnume. Men certainly did not originate on Tschai. The deduction is that
they were brought here as slaves, long ages ago, from the world of men.”

The Chaschmen
grunted; Anacho raised his eyes and studied the ceiling. The men of Pera
sitting at the table sighed in wonder.

There was
further talk, which became excited and vehement as the evening wore on. The
Chaschmen went off to a corner and argued among themselves, two disputing with
one.

On the
following morning the three Chaschmen departed Pera for Dadiche, riding, so it
happened, Emmink’s dray. Reith watched them go with misgiving. They would
undoubtedly report upon his activities and radical doctrines. The Blue Chasch
would not approve. Existence, Reith reflected, had become extremely complex.
The future seemed murky, even grim. Once again he considered hasty departure
into the wilderness. But the prospect still had no appeal.

During the
afternoon Reith watched the first draft of the militia at drill: six platoons
of fifty men each, armed diversely with catapults, swords, short cutlasses, in
striking variety of garments: pantaloons, smocks, burnouses, flared jackets
with short skirts, rags and strips of fur. Some wore beards, others varnished
topknots; the hair of others hung to their shoulders. Reith thought that never
had he seen so sad a spectacle. He watched in mingled amusement and despair as
they stumbled and slouched, with grumbling bad grace, through the exercises he
had ordained. The six lieutenants, who showed no great enthusiasm, perspired
and swore, gave orders more or less at random, while Baojian’s aplomb was
sorely taxed.

Reith finally
demoted two lieutenants on the spot and appointed two new men from the ranks.
He climbed up on a wagon, called the men in about him. “You are not performing
well! Don’t you understand what you are here for? To learn to protect
yourselves!” He looked from one sullen face to another then pointed down to a
man who had been muttering to his fellow. “You! What are you saying? Speak up!”

“I said that
this prancing and marching is foolishness, a waste of energy; what benefit can
arise from such antics?”

“The benefit
is this. You learn to obey orders, quickly and decisively. You learn to
function as a corps. Twenty men acting together are stronger than a hundred men
at odds with each other. In a battle situation the leader makes plans; the
disciplined warriors carry out these plans. Without discipline, plans are
useless and battles are lost. Now do you understand?”

“Bah. How can
men win battles? The Blue Chasch have energetics and battle-rafts. We have a
few sand-blasts. The Green Chasch are indomitable; they would kill us like
emmets. It is easier to hide among the ruins. This is how men have always lived
in Pera.”

“Conditions
are different,” said Reith. “If you don’t want to do a man’s work, you can do a
woman’s work and wear woman’s clothes. Take your choice.” He waited but the
dissident only glowered and shuffled his feet.

Reith came
down from the wagon and gave a series of orders. Certain men were sent up to
the citadel to fetch bolts of cloth and leather. Others brought shears and
razors; the men of the militia, despite protests, were shorn clean. Meanwhile
the women of the city had gathered and were put to work cutting out and sewing
uniforms: long sleeveless smocks of white cloth with black lightning-bolts
appliquéd to the chest. Corporals and sergeants wore black shoulder tabs; the
lieutenants had short red sleeves to their uniforms.

On the
following day the militia, wearing the new garments, drilled again, and on this
occasion were noticeably smarter-indeed, thought Reith, almost jaunty.

On the
morning of the third day after the Chaschmen’s departure Reith’s doubts were
resolved. A large raft, sixty feet long and thirty feet wide, came gliding over
the steppe. It flew in a single slow circle over Pera, then settled into the
plaza directly before the Dead Steppe Inn. A dozen burly Chaschmen-Security
Guards in gray pantaloons and purple jackets-jumped out and stood with hands at
their weapons. Six Blue Chasch stood on the deck of the raft staring around the
plaza from under overhanging brows. These Blue Chasch appeared to be special
personages; they wore tight suits of silver filigree, tall silver morions,
silver caps at the joints of their arms and legs.

The Blue
Chasch spoke briefly to the Chaschmen; two marched to the door of the inn, and
spoke to the innkeeper. “A man calling himself Reith has established himself as
your chief. Fetch him forth, to the attention of the Lord Chasch.”

The
innkeeper, half-awed, half-truculent, was prompted to a snarling
obsequiousness. “He is somewhere at hand; you will have to wait till he
arrives.”

“Notify him!
Be quick!”

Reith
received the summons gloomily, but without surprise. He sat thinking a moment or
two; then, heaving a deep sigh, he came to a decision, which, for better or
worse, must alter the lives of all the men of Pera, and perhaps all the men of
Tschai. He turned to Traz, gave a set of orders, then slowly went into the
common-room of the inn. “Tell the Chasch that I’ll speak to them in here.”