Planet of Adventure Omnibus (63 page)

The time had
come when he must venture into the forest. He could delay no longer. Taking a
sack and a shovel, tucking weapons into his belt, Reith set forth.

The trail was
familiar. Reith recognized each bole, every dark sheaf of fungus, every hummock
of lichen. As he passed through the forest he became aware of a sickening odor:
the reek of carrion. This was to be expected. He halted. Voices? Reith jumped
off the trail, listened.

Voices
indeed. Reith hesitated, then stole forward through the heavy foliage.

Ahead lay the
site of the trap. Reith approached with the most extreme caution, creeping on
his hands and knees, finally crawling on his elbows ... He looked forth upon an
eerie sight. To one side, in front of a great torquil, stood five Dirdir in
hunting regalia. A dozen gray-faced men stood in a great hole, digging with
shovels and buckets: this was the hole, greatly enlarged, in which Reith, Traz
and Anacho had buried the Dirdir corpses. From the splendid rotting carrion
came an odious stench ... Reith stared. One of these men was surely familiar-it
was Issam the Thang. And next to him worked the hostler, and next, the porter
at the Alawan. The others Reith could not positively identify, but all seemed
somehow familiar, and he assumed them to be folk with whom he had dealings at
Maust.

Reith turned
to inspect the five Dirdir. They stood stiff and attentive, effulgences flaring
out behind. If they felt emotion, or disgust, none was evident.

Reith did not
allow himself to reason, to weigh, to calculate. He brought forth his hand-gun;
he aimed, he fired. Once, twice, three times. Three Dirdir fell dead; the other
two sprang around in questioning fury. Four times, five times: two glancing
hits. Emerging from his cover Reith fired twice more down into the thrashing
white bodies before they became still.

The men in
the pit stood frozen in wonder. “Up!” cried Reith. “Out of there!”

Issam the
Thang yelled hoarsely, “It is you, the murderer! Your crimes brought us here!”

“Never mind
that,” said Reith. “Get up out of that hole and fly for your life!”

“What good is
that? The Dirdir will track us! They will kill us in some abominable fashion-”

The hostler
was already out of the hole. He went to the Dirdir corpses, availed himself of
a weapon, and turned back to Issam the Thang. “Don’t bother to climb from the
hole.” He fired; the Thang’s yell was cut short; his body rolled down among the
decaying Dirdir.

The hostler
said to Reith, “He betrayed us all, hoping for gain; he gained only what you
saw; they took him with the rest of us.”

“These five
Dirdir-were there more?”

“Two
Excellences who have gone back to Khusz.”

“Take the
weapons and go your way.”

The men fled
toward the Hills of Recall. Reith dug under the roots of the torquil. There,
the sack of sequins. To the value of a hundred thousand? He could not be sure.

Shouldering
the pouch, looking for a last time on the scene of carnage and the pitiful
corpse of Issam the Thang, he departed the scene.

Back at the
sky-car he loaded the sequins into the cabin and set himself to wait, anxiety
gnawing at his stomach. He dared not depart. If he flew low he might be seen by
hunt parties; if he flew high the screen across the Carabas would detect him.

The day
passed. Carina 4269 dropped behind the far hills. Sad brown twilight fell over
the Zone. Along the hills the hateful flickers sprang into existence. Reith
could wait no longer. He took the sky-car into the air.

Low over the
ground he skimmed until he was clear of the Zone, then rising high drove south
for Sivishe.

THE DARK LAND
passed astern. Reith sat staring ahead, visions flitting across his inner eye:
faces, twisted in passion, horror, pain. The shapes of Blue Chasch, Wankh,
Pnume, Phung, Green Chasch, Dirdir, all leaped upon the stage of his
imagination, to stand, turn, perform a gesture and leap away.

The night
passed. The sky-car slid south and when Carina 4269 rose into the east the
spires of Hei glistened far ahead.

Without
incident Reith landed the sky-car, though it seemed that a passing party of
Dirdirmen scrutinized him with suspicious intensity as he departed the field
with his sack of sequins.

Reith went
first to his room at the Ancient Realm. Neither Traz nor Anacho were on the
premises, but Reith thought nothing of this; they often passed the nights at
the shed.

Reith
stumbled to his couch, threw the bag of sequins against the wall, stretched out
and almost immediately slept.

He awoke to a
hand on his shoulder. He rolled over to find Traz standing above him.

Traz spoke in
a husky voice: “I was afraid you’d come here. Hurry, we must leave. The
apartment is now dangerous.”

Reith, still
torpid, swung himself to a sitting position. The time was early afternoon, or
so he judged by the shadows outside the window.

“What’s the
trouble?”

“The Dirdir
took Anacho into custody. I was out buying food, or they would have taken me as
well.”

Reith was now
fully awake. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.
It was Woudiver’s doing. He came to the shed, and asked questions about you. He
wanted to know if you claimed to come from another world; he persisted and
would not accept evasion. I refused to speak, as did Anacho. Woudiver began to
reproach Anacho as a renegade. ‘You, a former Dirdirman, how can you live like
a subman among sub-men?”‘ Anacho became provoked and said that Bifold Genesis
was a myth. Woudiver went away. Yesterday morning the Dirdir came here to the
rooms and took Anacho. If they force him to talk, we are not safe and the ship
is not safe.”

Reith’s
fingers were numb as he pulled on his boots. All at once the structure of his
life, contrived at such cost, had collapsed. Woudiver, always Woudiver.

Traz touched
his arm. “Come; best that we leave! The rooms may be watched.”

Reith picked
up the bundle of sequins. They departed the building. Through the alleys of
Sivishe they walked, ignoring the pale faces looking forth from doorways and
odd-shaped windows.

Reith became
aware that he was ravenously hungry; at a small restaurant they ate boiled
sea-thrush and spore-cake. Reith began to think more clearly. Anacho was in
Dirdir custody; Woudiver would certainly be expecting some sort of reaction
from him. Or would he be so assured of Reith’s essential helplessness that he
would expect matters to go on as before? Reith grinned a ghastly grin. If
Woudiver reckoned as much, he would be right. Unthinkable to jeopardize the
ship for any circumstance whatever! Reith’s hate for Woudiver was like a tumor
in his brain, and he must ignore it; he must make the best of an agonizing
dilemma.

Reith asked
Traz, “You have not seen Woudiver?”

“I saw him
this morning. I went to the shed; I thought you might have gone there. Woudiver
arrived and went into his office.”

“Let’s see if
he’s still there.”

“What do you
intend to do?”

Reith gave a
strangled laugh, “I could kill him but it would do no good. We need
information. Woudiver is the only source.”

Traz said
nothing; as usual Reith was unable to read his thoughts.

They rode the
creaking six-wheeled public carrier out to the construction yard, and every
turn of the wheels wound the tension tighter. When Reith arrived at the yard
and saw Woudiver’s black car the blood surged through his brain and he felt
lightheaded. He stood still, drew a deep breath and became quite calm.

He thrust the
pouch of sequins upon Traz. “Take it into the shed and hide it.”

Traz took the
sack dubiously. “Don’t go alone. Wait for me.”

“I expect no
trouble. We can’t afford the luxury, as Woudiver well knows. Wait for me by the
shed.”

Reith went to
Woudiver’s eccentric stone office and entered. With his back to the charcoal
brazier stood Artilo, legs splayed, arms behind his back. He examined Reith
without change of expression.

“Tell Woudiver
I want to see him,” said Reith.

Artilo
sauntered to the inner door, thrust his head in, spoke. He backed away. The
door swung aside with a wrench that almost tore it from its hinges. Woudiver
expanded into the room: a glaring-eyed Woudiver with great upper lip folded
down over his mouth. He looked across the room with the unfocused all-seeing
glare of a wrathful god, then seemed to catch sight of Reith, and his
malevolence concentrated itself.

“Adam Reith,”
spoke Woudiver in a voice like a bell. “You have returned. Where are my
sequins?”

“Never mind
your sequins,” said Reith. “Where is the Dirdirman?”

Woudiver
hunched his shoulders. For a moment Reith thought he was about to strike out.
If so Reith knew that his selfcontrol would dissolve, for better or worse.

Woudiver
spoke in a throbbing voice: “Do you think to fatigue me with wrangling? Think
again! Give me my money and depart.”

“You shall
have your money,” said Reith, “as soon as I see Ankhe at afram Anacho.”

“You wish to
see the blasphemer, the renegade?” roared Woudiver. “Go to the Glass Box, you
will see him clearly enough.”

“He is in the
Glass Box?”

“Where else?”

“You are
certain?”

Woudiver
leaned back against the wall. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Because he
is my friend. You betrayed him to the Dirdir; you must answer to me.”

Woudiver
began to swell, but Reith said in a weary voice, “No more drama, no more
shouting. You gave Anacho to the Dirdir; now I want you to save him.”

“Impossible,”
said Woudiver. “Even if I wished I could do nothing. He is in the Glass Box, do
you hear?”

“How can you
be sure?”

“Where else
should he be sent? He was taken for his old crimes; the Dirdir will learn
nothing of your project, if that is your worry.” And Woudiver showed his mouth
in a gigantic sneer. “Unless, of course, he himself reveals your secrets.”

“In which
case,” said Reith, “you would likewise find yourself in difficulties.”

Woudiver had
no comment to make.

Reith asked
in a gentle voice, “Can money buy Anacho’s escape?”

“No,” intoned
Woudiver. “He is in the Glass Box.”

“So you say.
How can I be sure?”

“As I
informed you-go look.”

“Anyone who
wishes can watch?”

“Certainly.
The Box holds no secrets.”

“What is the
procedure?”

“You cross to
Hei, you walk to the Box, you climb to the upper gallery which overlooks the
fields.”

“Could a
person lower a rope, or a ladder?”

“Certainly,
but he could not hope for long life; he would be thrust at once down upon the
field ... If you plan anything of this nature I myself will come to watch.”

“Suppose I
were to offer you a million sequins,” said Reith, “could you arrange that
Anacho escape?”

Woudiver
darted his great head forward. “A million sequins? And you have been crying
poverty to me for three months? I have been deceived!”

“Could you
arrange the escape for a million sequins?”

Woudiver
showed a dainty pink tip of tongue. “No, I fear not ... a million sequins ... I
fear not. There is nothing to be done. Nothing. So you have gained a million
sequins?”

“No,” said
Reith. “I only wanted to learn if Anacho’s escape was possible.”

“It is not
possible,” said Woudiver crossly. “Where is my money?”

“In due
course,” said Reith. “You betrayed my friend; you can wait.”

Again
Woudiver seemed on the verge of swinging his great arm. But he said, “You
misuse language. I did not ‘betray’: I exposed a criminal to his just deserts.
What loyalty do I owe you or yours? You have given none to me, and would do
worse if opportunity offered. Bear in mind, Adam Reith, that friendship must
work in two directions. Do not expect what you are unwilling to give. If you
find my attributes distasteful, remember that I feel the same about yours.
Which of us is correct? By the standards of this time and this place, it is
certainly I. You are the interloper; your protests are ludicrous and
unrealistic. You blame me for inordinacy. Do not forget, Adam Reith, that you
chose me as a man who would perform illegal acts for pay. This is your
expectation of me; you care nothing for my security or prospects. You came here
to exploit me, to urge me to dangerous acts for trifling sums; you must not
complain if my conduct seems merely a mirror of your own.”

Reith could
find no answer. He turned and left the office.

In the shed,
work was proceeding at its usual pace: a haven of normalcy after the Carabas
and the mind-twisting colloquy with Woudiver. Traz waited just inside the
portal. “What did he say?”