Planet of Adventure Omnibus (79 page)

Carina 4269
sank behind the mainland hills; the wind died and the boat lost way. Darkness
came; Zap 210 crouched fearfully on the center seat, oppressed by the expanse
of the sky. Reith lost patience with her fears. He lowered the yard halfway
down the mast, lashed the rudder, made himself as comfortable as possible and
slept.

A cool early
morning breeze awoke him. Stumbling about in the pre-dawn gloom he managed to
hoist the yard; then went aft to the tiller, where he steered half-dozing until
the sun arose.

About noon a
finger of land thrust forth into the sea; Reith landed the boat on a dismal
gray beach and went out foraging. He found a brackish stream, a thicket of dark
red dragon berries, a supply of the ubiquitous pilgrim-pod. In the stream he
noticed a number of crustacean-like creatures, but could not bring himself to
catch them.

During the
middle afternoon they once again put out to sea, Reith using the sweeps to pull
the boat away from the beach. They rounded the headland to find a changed
landscape shoreward. The gray beaches and mud flats had become a narrow fringe
of shingle; beyond were barren red cliffs, and Reith, wary of the lee shore,
put well out to sea.

An hour
before sunset a long low vessel appeared over the northeast horizon, faring on
a course parallel to their own. With the sun low in the northwest Reith hoped
to evade the attention of those aboard the ship, which held a sinister
resemblance to the pirate galleys of the Draschade. Hoping to draw away, he altered
course to the south. The ship likewise altered course, coincidentally or not
Reith could not be sure. He swung the boat directly toward the shore, now about
ten miles distant; the ship again seemed to alter course. With a sinking heart
Reith saw that they must surely be overtaken. Zap 210 watched with sagging
shoulders; Reith wondered what he should do if the galley in fact overtook
them. She had no knowledge of what to expect: now was hardly the time to
explain to her. Reith decided that he would kill her in the event that capture
became certain. Then he changed his mind: they would plunge over the side of
the boat and drown together ... Equally impractical; while there was life there
was hope.

The sun
settled upon the horizon; the wind, as on the previous evening, lessened.
Sunset brought a dead calm with the boats rolling helplessly on the waves.

Reith shipped
the sweeps. As twilight settled over the ocean he pulled away from the becalmed
pirate ship toward shore. He rowed on through the night. The pink moon rose and
then the blue moon, to project tremulous trails across the water.

Ahead, one of
the trails ended at a mass of dead black: the shore. Reith stopped his rowing.
Far to the west he saw a flickering light; to sea all was dark. He threw out
the anchor and lowered the sail. The two made a meal on berries and
pilgrim-pod, then lay down to sleep on the sails in the bottom of the boat.

With morning
came a breeze from the east. The boat lay at anchor a hundred yards offshore,
in water barely three feet deep. The pirate galley, if such it was, could no
longer be seen. Reith pulled up the anchor and hoisted the sail; the boat moved
jauntily off through the water.

Made cautious
by the events of the previous afternoon, Reith sailed only a quarter of a mile offshore,
until the wind died, halfway through the afternoon. In the north a bank of
clouds gave portent of a storm; taking up the sweeps, Reith worked the boat
into a lagoon at the mouth of a sluggish river. To the side of the lagoon
floated a raft of dried reeds, upon which two boys sat fishing. After an
initial stir they watched the approach of the boat in attitudes of
indifference.

Reith paused
in his rowing to consider the situation. The unconcern of the boys seemed
unnatural. On Tschai unusual events almost always presaged danger. Reith
cautiously rowed the boat to within conversational distance. A hundred feet
distant on the bank sat three men, also fishing. They seemed to be Grays: a
people short and stocky, with strongly-featured faces, sparse brownish hair and
grayish skin. At least, thought Reith, they were not Khors, and not
automatically hostile.

Reith let the
boat drift forward. He called out: “Is there a town nearby?”

One of the
boys pointed across the reeds to a grove of purple ouinga trees. “Yonder.”

“What town is
it?”

“Zsafathra.”

“Is there an
inn or a tavern where we can find accommodation?”

“Speak to the
men ashore.”

Reith urged
the boat toward the bank. One of the men called out in irritation: “Easy with
the tumult! You’ll drive off every gobbulch in the lagoon.”

“Sorry,” said
Reith. “Can we find accommodation in your town?”

The men
regarded him with impersonal curiosity. “What do you here, along this coast?”

“We are
travelers, from the south of Kislovan, now returning home.”

“You have
traveled a remarkable distance in so small a craft,” remarked one of the men in
a mildly skeptical voice.

“One which
strongly resembles the craft of the Khors,” noted another

“For a fact,”
Reith agreed, “it does look like a Khor boat. But all this aside, what of
lodging?”

“Anything is
available to folk with sequins.”

“We can pay
reasonable charges.”

The oldest of
the men on the bank rose to his feet. “If nothing else,” he stated, “we are
reasonable people.” He signaled Reith to approach. As the boat nosed into the
reeds he jumped aboard. “So, then: you claim to be Khors?”

“Quite the
reverse. We claim not to be Khors.”

“What of the
boat, then?”

Reith made an
ambiguous gesture. “It is not as good as some, but better than others; it has
brought us this far.”

A wintry grin
crossed the man’s face. “Proceed through the channel yonder. Bear to the right.”

For half an
hour Reith rowed this way and that through a maze of channels with the ouinga
trees always behind islands of black reeds. Reich presently understood that the
Zsafathran either was having a joke or sought to confuse him. He said, “I am
tired; you row the rest of the way.”

“No, no,”
declared the old man. “We are now there, just left through yonder channel, and
toward the ouingas.”

“Odd,” said
Reith. “We have gone back and forth past that channel a dozen times.”

“One channel
looks much like another. And here we are.”

The boat
floated into a placid pond, surrounded by reed-thatched cottages on stilts
under the ouinga trees. At the far end of the pond stood a larger, more
elaborate structure. The poles were purple ouinga wood; the thatch was woven in
a complicated pattern of black, brown and gray.

“Our
community free-house,” explained the Zsafathran. “We are not so isolated as you
might think. Thangs come by with their troupes and carts, or Bihasu peddlers,
or wandering dignitaries like yourselves. All these we entertain at our
free-house.”

“Thangs? We
must be close upon Cape Braise!”

“Is three
hundred miles close? The Thangs are as pervasive as sandflies; they appear
everywhere, more often than not when they are not wanted. Not too far is the
great Thang town of Urmank ... You and your woman both are of a race strange to
me. If the concept were not inherently ludicrous-but no, to postulate nonsense
is to lose my dignity; I will hazard nothing.”

“We are from
a remote place,” said Reith. “You have never heard of it.”

The old man
made a sign of indifference. “Whatever you like; provided that you observe the
ceremonies, and pay your score.”

“Two
questions,” said Reith. “What are the ‘ceremonies,’ and how much must we expect
to pay as a daily charge?”

“The
ceremonies are simple,” said the Zsafathran. “An exchange of pleasantries, so
to speak. The charges will be perhaps four or five sequins a day. Go ashore at
the dock, if you will; then we must take your boat away, to discourage
speculation should a Thang or a Bihasu pass by.”

Reith decided
to make no objection. He worked the boat to the dock, a construction of withe
and reeds lashed to piles of ouingawood. The Zsafathran jumped from the boat,
and gallantly helped Zap 210 to the dock, inspecting her closely as he did so.

Reith jumped
ashore with a mooring line, which the Zsafathran took and passed on to a lad
with a set of muttered instructions. He led Reith and Zap 210 through the white
pavilion and into the great freehouse. “So here you are, take your ease. The
cubicle yonder is at your service. Food and wine will be served in due course.”

“We want to
bathe,” said Reith, “and we would appreciate a change of clothes if any such
are available.”

“The
bathhouse is yonder. Fresh garments after the Zsafathran style can be furnished
at a price.”

“And the
price?”

“Ordinary
suits of gray furze for withe-cutting or tillage are ten sequins each. Since
your present garments are little better than rags, I recommend the expense.”

“Under-linen
is included in this price?”

“Upon a
surcharge of two sequins apiece under-linen is furnished, and should you wish
new sandals, each must pay five sequins additionally.”

“Very well,”
said Reith. “Bring everything. We’ll go first class while the sequins last.”

WEARING THE
SIMPLE gray smock and trousers of the Zsafathrans, Zap 210 looked somewhat less
peculiar and conspicuous. Her black hair had begun to curl; exposure to wind
and sun had darkened her skin; only her perfectly regular features and her
brooding absorption with secret ideas now set her apart. Reith doubted,
however, if a stranger would notice in her conduct anything more unusual than
shyness.

But Cauch,
the old Zsafathran, noticed. Taking Reith aside, he muttered in a confidential
voice, “Your woman: perhaps she is ill? If you require herbs, sweat-baths or
homeopathy, these are available, at no great cost.”

“Everything
at Zsafathra is a bargain,” said Reith. “Before we leave we might owe more
sequins than we carry. In this case, what would be your attitude?”

“Sorrowful
resignation, nothing more. We know ourselves for a destiny-blasted race, doomed
to a succession of disappointments. But I trust this is not to be the case?”

“Not unless
we enjoy your hospitality longer than I presently plan.”

“No doubt you
will carefully gauge your resources. But again, what of the woman’s condition?”
He subjected Zap 210 to a critical scrutiny. “I have had some experience in
these matters; I deem her peaked and listless, and somewhat morose. Beyond
this, I am puzzled.”

“She is an
unfathomable person,” Reith agreed.

“The
description, if I may say so, applies to you both,” said Cauch. He turned his
owlish gaze upon Reith. “Well, the woman’s morbidity is your affair, of course
... A collation has been served on the pavilion, which you are invited to join.”

“At a small
charge, presumably?”

“How can it
be otherwise? In this exacting world only the air we breathe is free. Are you
the sort to go hungry because you begrudge the outlay of a few bice? I think
not. Come.” And Cauch, urging them out upon the pavilion, seated them in withe
chairs before a wicker table, then went off to instruct the girls who served
from the buffet.

Cool tea,
spice-cakes, stalks of a crisp red water-vegetable were set before them as a
first course. The food was palatable, the chairs were comfortable; after the
vicissitudes of the previous weeks the situation seemed unreal, and Reith was
unable to subdue a nervous mannerism of looking warily this way and that.
Gradually he relaxed. The pavilion seemed an idyll of peace. Gauzy fronds of
the purple ouinga trailed low, exhaling an aromatic scent. Carina 4269
sprinkled dancing spots of dark gold light across the water. From somewhere beyond
the free-house came the music of water-gongs. Zap 210 gazed across the pond in
a reverie, nibbling at the food as if it lacked flavor. Becoming aware of Reith’s
attention she straightened primly in the chair.

“Shall I
serve more of this tea?” asked Reith.

“If you like.”

Reith poured
from the bubble-glass jug. “You don’t seem particularly hungry,” he observed.

“I suppose
not. I wonder if they have any
diko
.”

“I’m sure
that they have no
diko
,” said Reith.

Zap 210 gave
her fingers a petulant twitch.

Reith asked, “Do
you like this place?”

“It is better
than the vastness of the sea.”

For a period
Reith sipped his tea in silence. The table was cleared; new dishes were set
before them: croquettes in sweet jelly; toasted sticks of white pith; nubbins
of gray sea-flesh. As before Zap 210 showed no great appetite. Reith said
politely, “You’ve seen something of the surface now. Is it different from your
expectations?”

Zap 210
reflected. “I never thought to see so many motherwomen,” she murmured, as if
talking to herself.