Planet of Adventure Omnibus (61 page)

Reith forbore
to inquire the disposition of the victims; it was information he did not want.

Another of
the ten-day Tschai weeks passed, and Woudiver appeared, in a surly mood. His
upper lip was stiff as a shingle, totally concealing his mouth; his eyes darted
truculently right and left. He strutted close to Reith; the great hulk of his
torso blotted out half the landscape. He held out his hand. “Rent.” His voice
was flat and cold.

Reith brought
forth five hundred sequins and placed them on a shelf. He did not care to touch
the yellow hand.

Woudiver, in
a spasm of petulance, struck out with the back of his hand, knocking Reith head
over heels. Reith picked himself up in astonishment. His skin began to prickle,
signaling the onset of fury. From the corner of his eye he noticed Artilo
lounging against the wall. Artilo would shoot him as calmly as he might crush
an insect, this he knew. Nearby stood Traz, watching Artilo intently. Artilo was
neutralized.

Woudiver
stood looking at him, eyes cold and expressionless. Reith heaved a deep sigh,
choked back his wrath. To strike back at Woudiver would gain none of his
respect, but only stimulate the whole of his rancor. Inevitably something
dreadful would occur. Reith slowly turned away. “Bring me my rent!” barked
Woudiver. “Do you take me for a mendicant? I have been sufficiently wounded by
your arrogance. In the future extend me the respect due to my caste!”

Again Reith
hesitated. How much easier to attack the monstrous Woudiver and accept the
consequences! Which would be wreckage of the program. Again Reith sighed. If it
were necessary to eat crow, a mouthful was no worse than a taste.

In cold and
austere silence he handed the sequins to Woudiver, who only glared and made a
waggling motion of the hips. “It is insufficient! Why should I subsidize your
undertaking! Pay me my due! The rent is one thousand sequins a month!”

“Here is
another five hundred sequins,” said Reith. “Please do not demand more, because
it will not be forthcoming.”

Woudiver made
a contemptuous sound, wheeled and stalked away. Artilo looked after him and
spat in the dust. Then he gave Reith a speculative glance.

Reith went
inside the shed. Deine Zarre, who had observed the episode, made no comment.
Reith tried to soothe his humiliation in work.

Two days
later Woudiver reappeared, wearing his gaudy black and yellow outfit. His
truculence of the previous occasion had vanished; he was blandly polite. “Well,
then, and what is the current state of your project?”

Reith
responded in a flat voice. “There have been no major problems. The heavy
components are in place and connected. The instruments have been installed, but
are not operative. Deine Zarre is preparing another list: the magnetic justification
system, navigation sensors, the environment conditioners. Perhaps we should
also purchase fuel cells at this time.”

Woudiver
pursed his lips. “Just so. Again the sad occasion arises, of parting with your
hard-gained sequins. How, may I ask, did you garner so large a sum? It is a
fortune in itself. With so much in hand I wonder that you risk all on a
wild-goose chase.”

Reith managed
a wintry smile. “Evidently I do not regard the expedition as a wild-goose
chase.”

“Extraordinary.
When will Deine Zarre have his list in hand?”

“Perhaps -it
is finished now.”

Deine Zarre
had not finished his list but did so while Woudiver waited.

Scanning the
list with head thrown back and eyes half-closed, Woudiver said, “I fear that
the expense will be in excess of your reserves.”

“I hope not,”
said Reith. “How much do you reckon?”

“I can’t say
for certain; I do not know. But with rent, labor costs, your original
investments, you cannot have too much money left.” He looked at Reith
questioningly.

The last
thing Reith planned to do was confide in Woudiver. “It is essential then that
we keep costs to a minimum.”

“Three basic
costs must be met without fail,” intoned Woudiver. “The rent, my fees,
honorariums to my associates. What remains may be spent as you will. This is my
point of view. And now be so good as to tender me two thousand sequins, for the
honorariums. The materials, should you be unable to pay, can be returned
without prejudice and at no cost other than drayage fees.”

Gloomily
Reith handed over two thousand sequins. He made a mental calculation: of
something like two hundred and twenty thousand sequins brought from the
Carabas, less than half remained.

Somewhat
later a smaller wagon arrived, with eight canisters of fuel. Traz and Anacho
started to unload these, but Reith stopped them. “One moment.” He went into the
shed where Deine Zarre checked items off his list. “Did you order fuel?”

“Yes.”

Deine Zarre
seemed pensive, thought Reith, as if his mind wandered afield.

“How long
will a canister of fuel drive the ship?”

“Two are
needed, one for each cell. These will give about two months’ service.”

“Eight
canisters have been delivered.”

“I ordered
four, to ensure two spares.”

Reith
returned to the dray. “Take off four,” he told Traz and Anacho. The driver sat
in the shadow of the cab. Reith leaned in to address him, and to his surprise
saw Artilo, apparently in no anxiety to identify himself. Reith said, “You
brought eight cans of fuel; we ordered four.”

“Yellow said
to bring eight.”

“We only need
four. Take four back.”

“Can’t be
done. Talk to Big Yellow.”

“I need only
four cans. That’s all I’m taking. Do what you like with the others.”

Artilo,
whistling between his teeth, jumped from the cab, unloaded the four extra
canisters, carried them over to the shed. Then he climbed back into the dray
and drove off.

The three
stood looking after him. Anacho said in a toneless voice, “Trouble is on its
way.”

“I expect so,”
said Reith.

“The fuel
cells,” said Anacho, “are no doubt Woudiver’s own property. Perhaps he stole
them, perhaps he bought them on the cheap. Here is an excellent chance to
dispose of them at a profit.”

Traz made a
growling sound in his throat. “Woudiver should be made to carry away the cells
on his back.”

Reith gave an
uneasy laugh. “If I only knew how to make him.

“He fears for
his life, like anyone else.”

“True. But we
can’t cut off our nose to spite our face.”

In the
morning Woudiver did not arrive to hear the statements which Reith had brooded
upon a large part of the night. Reith drove himself to work, with the thought
of Woudiver pressing on him like the weight of doom.

On this
morning Deine Zarre was not on hand either, and the technicians muttered among
themselves more freely than they dared in Deine Zarre’s presence. Reith
presently desisted from his work and made a survey of the project. There were,
he thought, good grounds for optimism. The major components were installed; the
delicate job of tuning proceeded at a satisfactory rate. At these jobs Reith,
though acquainted with Earth space-drive systems, was helpless. He was not even
certain that the drives functioned by the same principles.

About noon a
line of black clouds broke over the palisades like a scud of surf. Carina 4269
went wan, faded through tones of brown, and disappeared; moments later rain
swept the eerie landscape, blotting Hei from sight, and now plodding through
the rain came Deine Zarre, followed by a pair of thin children: a boy of
twelve, a girl three or four years older. The three trudged into the shed,
where they stood shivering. Deine Zarre seemed drained of energy; the children
were numb.

Reith broke
up some crates, lit a fire in the middle of the shed. He found some coarse
cloth and tore it into towels. “Dry yourselves. Take off your jackets and get
warm.”

Deine Zarre
looked at him uncomprehendingly, then slowly obeyed. The children followed
suit. They were evidently brother and sister, quite possibly Deine Zarre’s
grandchildren. The boy’s eyes were blue; those of the girl were a beautiful
slate gray.

Reith brought
forth hot tea and at last Deine Zarre spoke. “Thank you. We are almost dry.”
And a moment later: “The children are in my care; they will be with me. If you
find the prospect inconvenient, I must give up my employment.”

“Of course
not,” said Reith. “They are welcome here, as long as they understand the need
for silence.”

“They will
say nothing.” Deine Zarre looked at the two. “Do you understand? Whatever you
see must not be mentioned elsewhere.”

The three
were in no mood for conversation. Reith, sensing desolation and misery,
lingered. The children watched him warily. “I can’t offer you dry clothes,”
said Reith. “But are you hungry? We have food on hand.”

The boy shook
his head with dignity; the girl smiled and became suddenly charming. “We have
had no breakfast.”

Traz, who had
been standing to the side, ran to the larder and presently returned with
seed-bread and soup. Reith watched gravely. It appeared that Traz’s emotions
had been affected. The girl was appealing, if somewhat peaked and miserable.

Deine Zarre
finally stirred himself. He pulled his steaming garments taut and went to
inspect the work done in his absence.

Reith tried
to make conversation with the children. “Are you becoming dry?”

“Yes, thank
you.”

“Define Zarre
is your grandfather?”

“Our uncle.”

“I see. And
now you are to live with him?”

“Yes.”

Reith could
find nothing more to say. Traz was more direct. “What happened to your father
and mother?”

“They were
killed, by Fairos; “ said the girl softly. The boy blinked.

Anacho said, “You
must be from the Eastern Skyrise.”

“Yes.”

“How did you
get from there to here?”

“We walked.”

“It is a long
way, and dangerous.”

“We were
lucky.” The two stared into the fire. The girl winced, recalling the
circumstances of their flight.

Reith went
off to find Deine Zarre. “You have new responsibilities.”

Deine Zarre
darted Reith a sharp look. “That is correct.”

“You work
here for less than you deserve to be paid, and I want to increase your salary.”

Deine Zarre
gave a gruff nod. “I can put the money to use.”

Reith
returned to the floor of the shed, to find Woudiver standing in the doorway, a
vast bulbous silhouette. His attitude was one of shocked disapproval. Today he
wore another of his grand outfits: black plush breeches tight around his
massive legs, a coat of purple and brown with a dull yellow sash. He marched
forward to stare fixedly down at the boy and girl, one to the other. “Who built
this fire? What do you do here?”

The girl
quavered: “We were wet; the gentleman warmed us before the fire.”

“Aha. And who
is this gentleman?”

Reith came
forward. “I am the gentleman. These are relations of Deine Zarre. I built the
fire to dry them.”

“What of my
property? A single spark and all goes up in flames!”

“In the rain
I conceived the danger to be slight.”

Woudiver made
an easy gesture. “I accept your reassurances. How does all proceed?”

“Well enough,”
said Reith.

Woudiver
reached into his sleeve and brought forth a paper. “I have here an account for
the deliveries of last night. The total, you will notice, is extremely low,
because I was given an inclusive lot price.”

Reith
unfolded the paper. Black sprawling characters spelled out: Merchandise, as
supplied: Sequins 106,800.

Woudiver was
saying: “-appears we are proceeding in really wonderful luck. I hope it will
last. Only yesterday the Dirdir trapped two thieves working out of the export
warehouse and took them instantly to the Glass Box. So, you see, our present
security is fragile.”

“Woudiver,”
said Reith, “this bill is too high. Far too high. Further, I don’t intend to
pay for extra energy-cans.”

“The price,
as I noted,” said Woudiver, “is an inclusive one. The extra cans come at no
extra cost. In a sense, they are free.”

“This is not
the case, and I refuse to pay five times what is reasonable. In fact, I don’t
have enough money.”

“Then you
must get some more,” said Woudiver softly.

Reith
snorted. “You make the task sound so easy.”

“It is for
some,” said Woudiver airily. “A most remarkable rumor circulates the city. It
appears that three men, entering the Carabas, slaughtered an astonishing number
of Dirdir, subsequently robbing the bodies. The men are described as a youth,
fair, like a Kotan steppe-dweller; a renegade Dirdirman; and a dark quiet man
of no distinguishable race. The Dirdir are anxious to hunt down these three.
Another rumor purports to concern the same three men. The dark man reportedly
states his origin to be a far-off world from which he insists all men derive:
in my opinion a blasphemy. What do you think of all this?”