Planet of Adventure Omnibus (40 page)

Traz
commented: “Tomorrow may hardly be soon enough.”

THE FOLLOWING
MORNING Reith communicated with Blue Jade Palace by means of the queer Yao
telephones, and was allowed to speak to Helsse. “You have naturally canceled
the contract with the Security Company?”

“The contract
has been canceled. I understand that they have decided to take independent
action, which of course you must deal with as you see fit.”

“Exactly,”
said Reith. “We are leaving Settra at once and we accept Lord Cizante’s offer
of assistance.”

Helsse made a
noncommittal sound. “What are your plans?”

“Essentially,
to escape Settra with our lives.”

“I will
arrive shortly and take you to an outlying wheelway station. At Vervodei ships
leave daily for all quarters and no doubt you will be able to make a convenient
departure.”

“We will be
ready at noon, or before.”

Reith set out
on foot for the Cercade, taking all precautions, and arrived at the rendezvous
with fair assurance that he had not been followed. Zarfo stood waiting, his
white hair confined in a bonnet as black as his face. He immediately led the
way to the cellar of an ale house. They sat at a stone table; Zarfo signaled
the pot-boy and they were presently served heavy stone mugs of a bitter earthy
ale.

Zarfo came
quickly to business. “Before I disrupt my life by so much as a twitch, show me
the color of your money.”

Without words
Reith threw down ten strips of winking purple sequins.

“Aha!”
gloated Zarfo Detwiler. “This is true beauty! Is it to be mine? I will take
custody of it at once, and guard it from all harm.”

“Who will
guard you?” asked Reith.

“Tish, tush,
lad,” scoffed Zarfo. “If comrades can’t trust comrades in a cool ale-cellar,
how will it go under adversity?”

Reith
returned the money to his wallet. “Adversity is here now. The assassins are
disturbed by the affair of yesterday. Instead of taking revenge upon you, they
have threatened me.”

“Yes, they
are an unreasonable lot. If they demand money, defy them. A man can always
fight for his life.”

“I’ve been
warned not to leave Settra until such a time as they choose to kill me.
Nevertheless, I propose to depart, and as soon as possible.”

“Shrewd.”
Zarfo quaffed ale and set the mug down with a thud. “But how will you evade the
assassins? Naturally they ponder your every move.”

Reith jerked
around at a noise, only to find the pot-boy at hand to refill Zarfo’s mug.
Zarfo pulled at his long black nose to conceal a grin. “The assassins are
pertinacious, but we shall outwit them, one way or another. Return to your
hotel and make all ready. At noon I will join you and we shall see what we
shall see.”

“Noon? So
late?”

“What
difference an hour or two? I must wind up my affairs.”

Reith
returned to the inn, where Helsse had already arrived in the black landau. The
atmosphere was strained and taut; at the sight of Reith, Helsse jumped to his
feet. “Time is short; we have been waiting! Come; we have only enough time to
catch the first afternoon car for Vervodei!”

Reith asked: “Won’t
the assassins be expecting just this? It seems an unimaginative plan.”

Helsse gave
an irritable shrug. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I’d like to
work one out.”

Anacho asked,
“Does Lord Cizante keep an air-car?”

“It is not in
operation.”

“Are any
others available?”

“For a
purpose of this sort? I should think not.”

Five minutes
passed. Helsse said mildly, “The longer we wait, the less time remains to you.”
He pointed out of the window. “See the two men in the round hats? They wait for
you to come forth. Now we cannot even use the car.”

“Go out and
tell them to go away,” suggested Reith.

Helsse
laughed. “Not I.”

Another half
an hour went by. Zarfo swaggered into the foyer. He saluted the group with a
wave of the hand. “Are all ready?”

Reith pointed
to the assassins standing to the side of the Oval. “They are waiting for us.”

“Detestable creatures,”
said Zarfo. “Only in Cath would they be tolerated.” He looked sidelong at
Helsse. “Why is he here?”

Reith
explained the circumstances; Zarfo looked out upon the Oval. “The black car
with the silver and blue crest-is that the vehicle in question? If so, nothing
is simpler. We shall ride off in the car.”

“Not
feasible,” said Helsse.

“Why not?”
asked Reith.

“Lord Cizante
does not care to become involved in this matter, nor do I. At the very least,
the Company would include me in the contract.”

Reith laughed
bitterly. “When you contracted with them in the first place? Out to the car,
and drive us away from this city of madmen!”

After a
moment of incredulous disdain, Helsse gave a curt nod. “As you wish.”

The group
left the inn and walked to the car. The assassins came forward. “I believe that
you, sir, are Adam Reith?”

“What of it?”

“May we
inquire your destination?”

“The Blue
Jade Palace.”

“Correct,”
said Helsse tonelessly.

“You
understand our regulations and schedule of penalties?”

“Yes, of
course.”

The assassins
muttered together, then one said: “In this case we think it advisable to
accompany you.”

“There is no
room,” said Helsse in a cool voice.

The assassins
paid no heed. One started to enter the landau. Zarfo pulled him back. The
assassin looked over his shoulder. “Have a care; I am a guildsman.”

“And I am a
Lokhar.” Zarfo struck him a great clout, sending him sprawling. The second
assassin stood astounded, then snatched forth a gun. Anacho’s sting snapped
forth, to penetrate his chest. The first assassin tried to crawl away; Zarfo
gave him a tremendous kick under the chin; he fell flat and limp. “Into the
car,” said Zarfo. “It is time to leave.”

“What a
fiasco,” whispered Helsse. “I am ruined.”

“Away from
Settra!” cried Zarfo. “By the least obvious route!”

The landau
rolled along narrow streets, into a narrow lane, and presently out into the
countryside.

“Where are
you taking us?” demanded Reith.

“Vervodei.”

“Ridiculous!”
snorted Zarfo. “Drive east into the back country. We must make our way to the
Jinga River and fare downstream to Kabasas on the Parapan.”

Helsse tried
a voice of calm reason. “To the east is wilderness. The car will stop. We have
no spare energy cells.”

“No
difference!”

“Not to you.
But how will I return to Settra?”

“Is this your
plan, after what has happened?”

Helsse
muttered something under his breath. “I am a marked man. They will demand fifty
thousand sequins, which I cannot pay-all through your insane manipulations.”

“Whatever you
like. But continue east, until the car stops or the road gives out-whichever
first.”

Helsse made a
gesture of fateful despair.

The road led
through a weirdly beautiful flatland with slow streams and ponds to either
side. Trees with drooping black limbs trailed tobacco-brown foliage into the
water. Reith kept a lookout to the rear, but discovered no sign of pursuit.
Settra became one with the murk of distance.

Helsse no
longer seemed to be sulking, but watched the road ahead with an expression that
almost seemed anticipation. Reith became suddenly suspicious. “Stop a moment.”

Helsse looked
around. “Stop? Why?”

“What lies
ahead?”

“The
mountains.”

“Why is the
road in such good repair? There seems to be no great traffic.”

“Ho!” crowed
Zarfo. “The mountain camp for insane folk! It must lie ahead!”

Helsse contrived
a sickly grin. “You told me to drive you to the end of the road; you did not
stipulate that I should avoid taking you to the asylum.”

“I do so now,”
said Reith. “Please, no more innocent errors of this sort.”

Helsse
compressed his lips and once more began to brood. At a crossroad he swung
south. The ground began to rise. Reith asked, “Where does the road lead?”

“To the old
quicksilver mines, to mountain retreats, a few peasant holdings.”

Into a forest
hung with black moss rolled the car, and the road slanted up even more steeply.
The sun passed behind a cloud, the forest became dark and dank, then gave way
to a foggy meadow.

Helsse
glanced at an indicator. “An hour more of energy.”

Reith
indicated the thrust of mountains ahead. “What lies beyond?”

“Wilderness.
The Hoch Har tribes. Black Mountain Lake, source of the Jinga. The route is
neither safe nor convenient. It is, however, an exit from Cath.”

Across the
meadow they drove. Thick-trunked trees rose at intervals with leaves like
shelves of yellow fungus.

The road
began to fail, and in places was blocked by fallen boughs. The ridge loomed
above, a great rocky jut.

At an
abandoned mine the road ended. Simultaneously the power index reached zero. The
car halted with a thud and a bump; there was silence except for a sigh of wind.

The group
alighted with their meager possessions. The fog had dissipated; the sun shone
cool through a high overcast, washing the landscape in honey-colored light.

Reith
surveyed the mountainside, tracing a path to the ridge. He turned to Helsse. “Well,
which is it to be? Kabasas, or back to Settra?”

“Settra,
naturally.” He looked disconsolately at the car.

“Afoot?”

“Better than
afoot to Kabasas.”

“What of the
assassins?”

“I must take
my chances.”

Reith brought
out his scanscope and studied the way they had come. “There seems no sign of
pursuit; you-” He halted, surprised by the expression on Helsse’s face.

“What is that
object?” demanded Helsse.

Reith
explained.

“Dordolio
spoke accurately,” said Helsse in a wondering voice. “He was telling the truth!”

Half-amused,
half-annoyed, Reith said, “I don’t know what Dordolio told you, other than that
we were barbarians. Goodbye, then, and my regards to Lord Cizante.”

“Wait a
moment,” said Helsse, staring indecisively west toward Settra. “Kabasas may be
safer, after all. The assassins would be sure to consider me an auxiliary to
your offense.” He turned, assessed the bulk of the mountain, heaved a gloomy
sigh. “Total insanity, of course.”

“Needless to
say, we are not here by our own volition,” returned Reith. “Well, we might as
well start.”

They climbed
the tailings dump in front of the mine, peered into the tunnel, from which
issued an ooze of reddish slime. A set of footprints led into the tunnel. They
were about human size, the shape of a bowling pin or a gourd; two inches ahead
of the narrow forward end were three indentations as of toes. Looking down at
the marks Reith felt the hairs rise at the nape of his neck. He listened, but
no sounds came from the tunnel. He asked Traz, “What sort of prints are these?”

“An unshod
Phung, possibly-a small one. More likely a Pnume. The prints are fresh. It
watched our approach.”

“Come along;
let’s leave,” muttered Reith.

An hour later
they reached the ridge and halted to gaze out over the panorama. The land to
the west lay drowned in late afternoon murk, with Settra showing as a
discolored spot, like a bruise. Far to the east glimmered Black Mountain Lake.

The travelers
spent an eerie night at the edge of the forest, starting up at far noises; a
thin uncanny screaming, a rap-rap-rap, like blows against a block of hard wood,
the crafty hooting of nighthounds.

Dawn came at
last. The group made a glum breakfast on pods from a pilgrim plant, then
proceeded down over a basalt palisade to the floor of a wooded valley. Ahead
lay the Black Mountain Lake, calm and still. A fishing boat inched across the
water and presently disappeared behind a jut of rock. “Hoch Har,” said Helsse. “Ancient
enemies of the Yao. Now they remain behind the mountains.”

Traz pointed.
“A path.”

Reith looked.
“I see no path.”

“Nevertheless
it is there, and I smell wood smoke, from a distance of three miles.”

Five minutes
later Traz made a sudden gesture. “Several men are approaching.”

Reith
listened; he could hear nothing. But presently three men appeared on the trail
ahead: very tall men with thick waists, thin arms and legs, wearing skirts of a
dirty white fiber and short capes of the same stuff. They stopped short at the
sight of the travelers, then turned and retreated along the trail, looking
anxiously back over their shoulders.