Planet of Adventure Omnibus (66 page)

Anacho
grunted. “I would not object to guarding Big Yellow.”

“The time to
act is now,” said Traz. “Before he knows of the escape.”

“For you two,
no!” Reith declared. “If I get killed ... too bad but unavoidable. It is a risk
I have to take. Not so for you. Take the skycar and money, leave now while you
are able!”

“I remain,”
said Traz.

“And I as
well,” said Anacho.

Reith made a
gesture of defeat. “Let’s go after Woudiver.”

THE THREE
STOOD in the dark court outside Woudiver’s apartments, judging how best to open
the postern. “We don’t dare force the lock,” muttered Anacho. “Woudiver
undoubtedly guards himself with alarms and death-traps.”

“We’ll have
to go over the top,” said Reith. “It shouldn’t be too hard to reach the roof.”
He studied the wall, the cracked tile, a twisted old psilla. “Nothing to it.”
He pointed. “Up there, across to there-then there and over.”

Anacho shook
his head gloomily. “I’m surprised to find you still so innocent. Why do you
think the route appears so simple! Because Woudiver is convinced no one can
climb? You’d find strings, traps and jangle-buttons every place you put your
hand.”

Reith chewed
his lip in mortification. “Well, then, how do you propose we get in?”

“Not through
here,” said Anacho. “We must defeat Woudiver’s craft with cleverness of our
own.”

Traz made a
sudden motion, and drew the other two back into the deep shadows of an
area-way.

Along the
alley came a shuffle of footsteps. A tall thin shape limped past them and went
to stand by the postern. Traz whispered: “Deine Zarre! He’s in a bitter state.”

Deine Zarre
stood motionless; he brought forth a tool and worked on the lock. The postern
swung open; he walked through, his pace inexorable as doom. Reith sprang
forward and held the gate ajar. Deine Zarre limped on unseeing. Traz and Anacho
passed through the postern; Reith let the gate rest against the lock. They now
stood in a paved loggia, with a dimly lit passage leading to the main bulk of
the house. “For the moment,” said Reith, “you two wait here; let me confront
Woudiver alone.”

“You’ll be in
great danger,” said Anacho. “It’s obvious that you came for no good!”

“Not
necessarily!” said Reith. “He will be suspicious, certainly. But he can’t know
that I’ve seen you. If he sees the three of us he’ll be on his guard. Alone, I
have a better chance of outwitting him.”

“Very well,”
said Anacho. “We’ll wait here, for a certain period, at any rate. Then we’ll
come in after you.”

“Give me
fifteen minutes.” Reith set off down the passage, which opened into a
courtyard. Across, in front of a brassbound door, stood Deine Zarre, plying his
tool. Light suddenly flooded the courtyard. Deine Zarre had apparently tripped
an alarm.

Into the
courtyard stepped Artilo. “Zarre,” he said.

Deine Zarre
turned about.

“What do you
do here?” Artilo asked in a gentle voice.

“It is no
concern of yours,” said Deine Zarre tonelessly. “Leave me be.”

With an
uncharacteristic flourish, Artilo brought forth a power-gun. “I have been so
ordered. Prepare to die.”

Reith stepped
quickly forward, but the motion of Deine Zarre’s eyes gave warning to Artilo;
he started to look about. With two long strides, Reith was on him. He struck a
terrible blow at the base of Artilo’s skull, and Artilo collapsed dead. Reith
took up the power-gun, rolled Artilo to the side. Deine Zarre was already
turning away, as if the circumstances held no interest.

Reith said, “Wait!”

Deine Zarre
turned around once more. Reith came forward. Deine Zarre’s gray eyes were
astonishingly clear. Reith asked, “Why are you here?”

“To kill
Woudiver. He has savaged my children.” Deine Zarre’s voice was calm and
expository. “They are dead, both dead, and gone from this sad world Tschai.”

Reith’s voice
sounded muffled and distant to his own ears.

“Woudiver
must be destroyed ... but not until the ship is complete.”

“He will
never let you complete the ship.”

“That is why
I am here.”

“What can you
do?” Deine Zarre spoke contemptuously.

“I intend to
take him captive, and keep him until the ship is finished. Then you may kill
him.”

“Very well,”
said Deine Zarre in a dull voice. “Why not? I will make him suffer.”

“As you
please. You go ahead, I will come close behind, as before. When we find
Woudiver, upbraid him, but offer no violence. We don’t want to drive him to
desperate action.”

Deine Zarre
turned without a word. He worked open the door, to reveal a room furnished in
scarlet and yellow. Deine Zarre entered, and after a quick look over his
shoulder Reith followed. A dwarfish, dark-skinned servant in an enormous white
turban stood startled.

“Where is
Aila Woudiver?” asked Deine Zarre in his most gentle voice.

The servant
became haughty. “He is importantly busy. He has great dealings. He cannot be
disturbed.”

Seizing the
servant by the scruff of the neck Reith half raised him off the ground,
dislodging the turban. The servant keened in pain and wounded dignity. “What
are you doing? Take your hands away or I will summon my master!”

“Precisely
what we want you to do,” said Reith.

The servant
stood back, rubbing his neck and glaring at Reith. “Leave the house at once!”

“Take us to
Woudiver, if you want to avoid trouble!”

The servant
began to whine. “I may not do so. He’ll have me whipped!”

“Look yonder
in the courtyard,” said Deine Zarre. “You’ll see Artilo’s dead body. Do you
wish to join him?”

The servant
began to shake and fell on his knees. Reith hoisted him erect. “Quick now! To
Woudiver!”

“You must
tell him I was forced, on threat of my life!” cried the servant with chattering
teeth. “Then you must swear-”

The portiere
at the far end of the room parted. The great face of Aila Woudiver peered
through. “What is this disturbance?”

Reith pushed
the servant away. “Your man refused to summon you.”

Woudiver
examined him with the cleverest and most suspicious gaze imaginable. “For good
reason, I am occupied with important affairs.”

“None so
important as mine,” said Reith.

“A moment,”
said Woudiver. He turned, spoke a word or two to his visitors, swaggered back
into the scarlet and yellow salon. “You have the money?”

“Yes, of
course. Would I be here otherwise?”

For another
long moment Woudiver surveyed Reith. “Where is the money?”

“In a safe
place.”

Woudiver
chewed at his pendulous lower lip. “Do not use that tone with me. To be candid,
I suspect you of contriving an infamy, that which today allowed the escape of
numerous criminals from the Glass Box.”

Reith
chuckled. “Tell me, if you please, how I could be two places at once?”

“If you were
in a single place, that is enough to damn you. A man corresponding to your
description lowered himself to the field only an hour before the event. He
would not have done so had he not been sure of escape. It is noteworthy that
the renegade Dirdirman seemed to be among those missing.”

Deine Zarre
spoke: “The battarache came from your store; you will be held responsible if I
should utter a word.”

Woudiver
seemed to notice Deine Zarre for the first time. In simulated surprise he
spoke. “What do you do here, old man? Better be off about your business.”

“I came to
kill you,” said Deine Zarre. “Reith asked that I wait.”

“Come along,
Woudiver,” said Reith. “The game is over.” He displayed his weapon. “Quickly,
or I’ll burn some of your hide.”

Woudiver
looked from one to the other without apparent concern. “Do the mice bare their
teeth?”

Reith, from
long experience, knew enough to expect wrangling, obstinacy, and generally
perverse behavior. In a resigned voice he said, “Come along, Woudiver.”

Woudiver
smiled. “Two ridiculous little sub-men.” He raised his voice a trifle. “Artilo!”

“Artilo is
dead,” said Deine Zarre. He looked right and left in something like puzzlement.
Woudiver watched him blandly. “You seek something?”

Deine Zarre,
ignoring Woudiver, muttered to Reith, “He is too easy, even for Woudiver. Take
care.”

Reith said in
a sharp voice, “On the count of five, I’ll burn you.”

“First, a
question,” said Woudiver. “Where do we go?”

Reith ignored
him. “One ... two...”

Woudiver
sighed hugely. “You fail to amuse me.”

“... three...”

“Somehow I
must protect myself ...”

“... four ...”

“. . . so
much is clear.” Woudiver backed against the wall. The velvet canopy instantly
slumped on Reith and Deine Zarre.

Reith fired
the gun but the folds struck down his arm, and the ray scarred only the black
and white tiles of the floor.

Woudiver’s
chuckle sounded muffled but rich and unctuous. The floor vibrated to his
ominous tread. A vast weight suffocated Reith; Woudiver had flung himself down
upon his body. Reith lay halfdazed. Woudiver’s voice sounded close. “So the
jackanapes thought to trouble Aila Woudiver? See how he is now!” The weight
lifted. “And Deine Zarre, who courteously refrained from assassination. Well
then, farewell, Deine Zarre. I am more decisive.”

A sound, a
sad sodden gurgle and then a scraping of fingernails upon the tiles.

“Adam Reith,”
said the voice. “You are a peculiar mad case. I am interested in your
intentions. Drop the gun, put your arms to the front and do not move. Do you
feel the weight on your neck? That is my foot. Quick then, arms forward, and no
sudden motions. Hisziu, make ready.”

The folds
were pulled back, away from Reith’s extended arms. Nimble dark fingers bound
his wrists with silk ribbon.

The velvet
was further drawn back. Reith, still somewhat dazed, looked up at the
spraddle-legged bulk. Hisziu the servant skipped back and forth, around and
under, like a puppy.

Woudiver
hoisted Reith erect. “Walk, if you will.” He sent Reith stumbling with a shove.

IN A DARK
room, against a metal rack, stood Reith. His outstretched arms were taped to a
transverse bar; his ankles were likewise secured. No light entered the room
save the glimmer of a few stars through a narrow window. Hisziu the servant
crouched four feet in front of him, with a light whip of braided silk, little
more than a length of supple cord attached to a short handle. He seemed able to
see in the dark and amused himself by snapping the tip of the whip, at
unpredictable intervals, upon Reith’s wrists, knees and chin. He spoke only
once. “Your two friends have been taken. They are no better than you: worse,
indeed. Woudiver works with them.”

Reith stood
limp, his thoughts sluggish and dismal. Disaster was complete; he was conscious
of nothing else. The malicious little snaps of Hisziu’s whip barely brushed the
edge of his awareness. His existence was coming to an end, to be no more
remarked than the fall of a raindrop into one of Tschai’s sullen oceans.
Somewhere out of sight the blue moon rose, casting a sheen across the sky. The
slow waxing and equally slow waning of moonlight told the passing of the night.

Hisziu fell
into a drowse and snored softly. Reith was indifferent. He raised his head,
looked out of the window. The shimmer of moonlight was gone; a muddy color
towards the east signaled the coming of Carina 4269. Hisziu awoke with a start,
and flicked the whip petulantly at Reith’s cheeks, raising instant
bloodblisters. He left the chamber and a moment later returned with a mug of
hot tea, which he sipped by the window. Reith croaked: “I’ll pay you ten
thousand sequins to cut me loose.”

Hisziu paid
him no heed.

Reith said, “And
another ten thousand if you help me free my friends.”

The servant
sipped the tea as if Reith had never spoken.

The sky
glowed dark gold; Carina 4269 had appeared. Steps sounded; Woudiver’s bulk
filled the doorway. A moment he stood quietly, assessing the situation, then,
seizing the whip, he gestured Hisziu from the room.

Woudiver
seemed exalted, as if drugged or drunk. He slapped the whip against his thigh. “I
can’t find the money, Adam Reith. Where is it?”

Reith
attempted to speak in a casual voice. “What are your plans?”

Woudiver
raised his hairless eyebrows. “I have no plans. Events proceed; I exist as well
as I may.”

“Why do you
keep me tied here?”

Aila Woudiver
slapped the whip against his leg. “I have naturally notified my kinsmen of your
apprehension.”