Planet of Adventure Omnibus (65 page)

“Up beyond,
or so it may be. Take yourself off, with your dark cloak.”

Reith
scrambled up a jut of sandstone. He called out: “Anacho.”

No response.
Reith looked at his watch. In ten minutes the field would go dark. He searched
the side of South Hill. A little distance away he glimpsed movement: persons
running off through the thicket. His cloak seemed to arouse antagonism; he
removed it, threw it over his arm.

In a hollow
Reith found four men and a woman. They showed him the faces of hunted animals,
and would not reply to his question. Reith labored up the hill, to gain a
better view. “Anacho!” he called. A figure in a white smock swung around. Reith
felt engulfed in relief; his knees felt weak; tears came to his eyes. “Anacho!”

“What do you
do here!”

“Hurry. This
way. We’re about to escape.”

Anacho looked
at him in stupefaction. “No one escapes the Glass Box.”

“Come along!
You’ll see!”

“Not that
way,” cried Anacho hoarsely. “Safety lies to the north, on North Hill! When the
darkness comes the hunt starts!”

“I know, I
know! We don’t have much time. Come this way. We must take cover somewhere over
yonder; we must be ready.”

Anacho threw
his hands in the air. “You must know something I don’t know.”

They ran back
the way Reith had come, to the western face of South Hill. As they ran Reith
gasped out the details of the plan.

Anacho asked
in a hollow voice, “You did all this ... for me? You came down here on the
field?”

“No matter
about that. Now-we want to be close to that tall clump of white bristles. Where
shall we take cover?”

“Within the
clump-as good as any. Notice the hunters! They take their positions. They must
keep off half a mile until the darkness comes. We are just barely within the
sanctuary. Those four are marking us!”

“Darkness
will be coining in seconds. Our plan is this: we run due west, toward that
mound. From there we work to that bank of brown cactus and around the southern
edge. Most important: we must not become separated!”

Anacho made a
plaintive gesture. “How can we avoid it? We can’t call out; the hunters will
hear us.”

Reith gave
him an end of the rope. “Hold to that. And if we are separated we meet on the
west edge of that yellow clump.”

They waited
for darkness. Out on the field the young Dirdir took up their positions, with
here and there more experienced hunters. Reith looked to the east. By some
trick of light and atmosphere the fields seemed to be open and to extend to far
horizons; only by dint of concentration could Reith make out the east wall.

Darkness
came. The lights dulled to red, flickered out. Far to the north glowed a single
purple light, to indicate direction. It cast no illumination. Darkness was
complete. The hunt had begun. From the north came Dirdir hunting calls:
chilling hoots and ululations.

Reith and
Anacho moved west. From time to time they halted to listen through the dark. To
their right came a sinister jingling. They stood stock-still. The jingling and
a pad-pad-pad faded off to the rear.

They arrived
at their landmark hummock, and continued toward the clump of cactus. Something
was near. They halted to listen. It seemed to their straining ears, or nerves,
that something else paused as well.

From high,
high above came a many-voiced cry, ranging up and down the sonic range, then
another and another. “The huntcalls of all the septs,” Anacho whispered. “A
traditional ritual. Now from the field, all the sept-members present must give
voice.” The calls from above halted; from all parts of the hunting field, eerie
out of the dark, came the responses. Anacho nudged Reith. “While the responses
sound, we are free to move. Come.”

They set out
with long strides, their feet sensitive as eyes. The hunt-slogans dwindled away
into the distance; again there was silence. Reith struck a loose rock with his
feet, to cause a distressing rattle. They froze, teeth gritted.

There was no
reaction. On they walked, on and on, feeling out with their feet for the cactus
clump, but encountering only air and harsh soil. Reith began to fear that they
had passed it by, that the lights would go on to expose them to all the
hunters, all the spectators.

Seven minutes
of darkness had elapsed, or so he estimated. In another minute, at the latest,
they should find the outskirts of the clump ... A sound! Running feet,
apparently human, passed not thirty feet distant. A moment later a jogging
thud, shrill whispers, a jingle of hunting gear. The sounds passed, dwindled.
Silence returned.

Seconds later
they came to the cactus. “Around to the southern side,” Reith whispered. “Then
on hands and knees into the center.”

The two
pushed through the coarse stalks, meeting sharp side-prongs.

“Light! Here
it comes!”

The dark
began to dissipate in the style of a Sibol sunrise: up through gray, pallid
white, into the full glare of day.

Reith and
Anacho looked about them. The cactus provided fair concealment; they seemed in
no imminent peril, though not a hundred yards distant three Dirdir scions
bounded across the field, heads high, searching in all directions for fleeing
game. Reith consulted his watch. Fifteen minutes remained-if Traz had suffered
no mishap, if he had been able to reach the opposite wall of the Glass Box.

The forest of
white bristle lay a quarter of a mile ahead, across somewhat open ground. It
might, thought Reith, be the longest quarter-mile he had ever traversed.

The two
wormed through the cactus to the northern verge. “The hunters keep to middle
ground for an hour or so,” said Anacho. “They restrain quick penetration to the
north, then they work to the south.”

Reith handed
Anacho a power-gun, tucked his own into his waistband. He raised to his knees.
A mile distant he glimpsed movement, Dirdir or game he could not be sure.
Anacho suddenly pulled him down into concealment. From behind the cactus bush
trotted a group of Immaculates, hands sheathed in artificial talons, simulated
effulgences trailing over their shining white pates. Reith’s stomach twisted;
he stifled the impulse to confront the creatures, to shoot them.

The Dirdirmen
loped past, and it seemed that they missed seeing the fugitives only through
the sheerest chance. They angled away to the east, and, sighting game, bounded
off at full speed.

Reith checked
his watch; time was growing short. Rising to his knees, he looked in all
directions. “Let’s go.”

They jumped
erect, ran off for the white forest.

They paused
halfway, crouched behind a little thicket. By South Hill a hot hunt was in
progress; two bands of hunters converged on game which had taken cover on South
Hill itself. Reith checked his watch. Nine minutes. The white forest was only a
minute or two away. The lone spire which he had established as a landmark could
now be seen, a few hundred yards west of the forest. They set forth again. Four
hunters stepped from the forest, where they had stationed themselves to spy out
the game. Reith’s heart sank into his boots. “Keep going,” he said to Anacho. “We’ll
fight them.”

Anacho looked
dubiously at the power-gun. “If they take us with guns, they’ll toss us for
days ... but I was to be tossed in any event.”

The Dirdir
watched in fascination as Reith and Anacho approached. “We must take them into
the forest,” muttered Anacho. “The judges will intervene if they see our guns.”

“Around to
the left then, and behind that clump of yellow grass.”

The Dirdir
did not advance to meet them, but moved to the side. With a final burst Reith
and Anacho gained the edge of the forest. The Dirdir screamed their hunt
slogans and sprang forward, while Reith and Anacho retreated.

“Now,” said
Reith. They brought forth their guns. The Dirdir gave a croak of dismay. Four
quick shots: four dead Dirdir. Instantly from high above came a great howl: a
mind-jarring ululation. Anacho shouted out in sheer frustration, “The judges
saw. They’ll watch us now, and direct the hunt. We are lost.”

“We have a
chance,” Reith insisted. He wiped the sweat from his face, squinting against
the glare. “In three minutes-if all goes well-the explosion. Let’s go on to the
long spire.”

They ran
through the forest, and as they emerged they saw hunt-teams loping in their
direction. The howling overhead rose and fell, then stopped.

They reached
the single spire, with the glass wall only a hundred yards distant. Above,
obscured by glare and reflections, ran the observation decks; Reith was barely
able to make out the gaping spectators.

He checked
his watch.

Now.

An interval,
to be expected: the Box was three miles across. Seconds passed, then came a
great puff of shock and a thunderous reverberation. Lights flickered; far to
the east they were extinguished. Reith peered but could not see the effect of the
blast. From overhead, up and down the length of the field, came a frantic
baying, expressing rage so savage and stupendous that Reith’s knees became
weak.

Anacho was
more matter-of-fact. “They direct all hunts east to the rupture, to prevent the
escape of game.”

The hunts
which had been converging upon Reith and Anacho turned and raced off to the
east.

“Get ready,”
said Reith. He looked at his watch. “To the ground.”

A second
explosion: a tremendous shatter to gladden Reith’s heart, to lift him into a state
of near religious exaltation. Shards and chunks of gray glass whistled
overhead; the lights dimmed, went dark. Before them appeared a gap, like an
opening into a new dimension, a hundred feet wide, almost as high as the first
observation deck.

Reith and
Anacho jumped to their feet. Without difficulty they reached the wall and
sprang through-away from the arid Sibol, out into the dim Tschai afternoon.

Down the
broad white avenue they ran, then at Anacho’s direction turned off to the
north, toward the factories and the white Dirdirman spires, then to the
waterfront, and across the causeway into Sivishe.

They halted
to catch their breath. “Best that you go direct to the sky-car,” said Reith. “Take
it and leave. You won’t be safe in Sivishe.”

“Woudiver
issued the information against me; he’ll do the same for you,” said Anacho.

“I can’t
leave Sivishe now, with the spaceship so near to completion. Woudiver and I
must have an understanding.”

“Never,” said
Anacho bleakly. “He is a great wad of malice.”

“He can’t
betray the spaceship without endangering himself,” argued Reith. “He is our
accomplice; we work in his shed.”

“He’d explain
it away somehow.”

“Perhaps,
perhaps not. In any event, you must leave Sivishe. We’ll share the money-then
you must go. The sky-car is no more use to me.”

Anacho’s
white face became mulish. “Not so fast, I am not the goal of a tsaugsh,
remember this. Who will take the initiative to seek me out?”

Reith looked
back toward the Glass Cage. “You don’t think they’ll seek you in Sivishe?”

“They are
unpredictable. But I’m as safe in Sivishe as anywhere else. I can’t go back to
the Ancient Realm. They won’t seek me at the shed unless Woudiver betrays the
project.”

“Woudiver
must be controlled,” said Reith.

Anacho only
grunted. They set off once more, through the mean alleys of Sivishe.

The sun
passed behind the spires of Hei and dimness seeped into the already shadowed
streets. Reith and Anacho rode by public powerwagon to the shed. Woudiver’s
office was dark; within the shed dim lights glimmered. The mechanics had gone
home; there seemed to be no one on the premises ... In the shadows a figure
moved. “Traz!” cried Reith.

The lad came
forward. “I knew that you would come here, if you won free.”

Neither the
nomads nor the Dirdirmen were given to demonstration; Anacho and Traz merely
took note of each other.

“Best that we
leave this place,” said Traz. “And quickly.”

“I said to
Anacho, I say to you: take the sky-car and go. There is no reason for you to
risk another day in Sivishe.”

“And what
about you?”

“I must take
my chances here.”

“The chances
are very small, what with Woudiver and his vindictiveness.”

“I will
control Woudiver.”

“An
impossibility!” Anacho cried out. “Who can control such perversity, so much
monstrous passion? He is beyond reason.”

Reith nodded
somberly. “There is only one certain way, and it may be difficult.”

“How do you
intend this miracle?” Anacho demanded.

“I intend
simply to take him at gunpoint, and bring him here. If he will not come, I will
kill him. If he comes, he will be my captive, under constant guard. I can think
of nothing better.”