Planet of Adventure Omnibus (84 page)

Reith looked
around the landscape, which was vacant except for a group of naked children
paddling in a rivulet of yellow slime. He approached the shed. The lock, the
hasp, the hinges were sound and solid. There was no window to the shed, nor any
opening other than the door. Reith backed away. “We’ve seen all we need to see.”

“Indeed?”
Cauch dubiously inspected the shed, the wall, the psilla tree. “I see nothing
significant. Are you still referring to the eel-races?”

“Of course.”
They went back through the dismal huddle of huts. Reith said: “Very likely we
could make all our arrangements alone; still, the help of two trustworthy men
might prove convenient.”

Cauch eyed
him with awe and incredulity. “You seriously hope to take money from the
eel-race?”

“If the
eel-master pays all winning bets, I do.”

“No fear of
that,” said Cauch. “He will pay, assuming that there are winnings. And on this
supposition, how do you propose to share?”

“Half for me,
half for you and your two men.”

Cauch pursed
his lips. “I perceive something of an inequity. From a mutual project, one man
should not derive three times the share of the others.”

“I believe
that he should,” said Reith, “when otherwise the other three gain nothing
whatever.”

“The point is
well-taken,” Cauch admitted. “The affair shall go as you recommend.”

They returned
to the cafe. Reith looked for Zap 210, who was nowhere to be seen. “I must find
my companion,” he told Cauch. “No doubt she waits at the inn.”

Cauch made an
affable gesture; Reith went to the inn, but found Zap 210 nowhere. Making
inquiries of the clerk he learned that she had come and gone, leaving no
intimation as to her destination.

Reith went to
the doorway and looked up and down the quay. To the right porters in faded red
kirtles and leather shoulderpads unloaded a cog; to the left was the bustle of
the bazaar.

He never should
have left her alone, he told himself, especially in her mood of the morning. He
had taken her stability for granted, never troubling to divine the state of her
mind. Reith cursed himself for callousness and egocentricity. The girl had been
undergoing the most intense and dramatic emotional strains: all the fundamental
processes of life at once. Reith strode back to the cafe. Cauch eyed him with
calm benevolence. “You appear concerned.”

“The girl who
accompanies me-I can’t find her.”

“Pah,” said
Cauch. “They are all alike. She has gone to the bazaar, to buy a trinket.”

“No. She has
no money. She is utterly inexperienced; she would go nowhere-except ...” Reith
turned to look toward the hills, the way which lay between the ghoul-castles.
Would she seriously consider going down into the Shelters? ... A new idea came
to turn his bones to ice. The Gzhindra. Reith summoned the Thang servant-boy. “I
breakfasted this morning with a young woman. Do you recall her?”

“Yes, indeed;
she wore an orange turban, like a Hedaijhan, at least on that occasion.”

“You saw her
another time?”

“I did. She
sat yonder, wearing the sash of solicitation and consorting with Otwile the
champion. They drank wine for a period, then went off.”

“She went of
her own free will?” asked Reith in wonder.

The servant
gave a shrug of indifference, covertly insolent. “She wore the sash, she
uttered no outcry, she leaned on his arm, perhaps to steady herself, for I
believe her to have been somewhat drunk.”

“Where did
they go?”

Again the
shrug. “Otwile’s chambers are not too far distant; perhaps this was their
resort.”

“Show me the
way.”

“No no.” The
servant shook his head. “I am at my duties. Also I would not care to vex
Otwile.”

Reith jumped
at him; the servant stumbled back in a panic. “Quick!” hissed Reith.

“This way
then, but hurry; I am not supposed to leave the cafe.”

They ran
through the dank back alleys of Urmank, in and out of the brown light of Carina
4269, which occasionally slanted down past the crooked gables of the tall
houses. The servant halted, pointed along a walkway leading into a garden of
green and purple foliage. “At the back of the shrubbery are Otwile’s rooms.” He
scuttled back the way he had come. Reith ran along the walkway, through the
garden. At the back stood a cottage of carved timber and panels of translucent
fiber. As Reith approached he heard a sudden wordless cry of outrage from
within. “Unclean!” Then there was the sound of a blow, and a whimper. Reith’s
knees shook, he tottered forward, thrust open the door. On the floor crouched
Zap 210, glassy-eyed and nude; above her stood Otwile. Zap 210 stared at Reith;
he saw a red welt on her cheek.

Otwile spoke
in a voice of hushed outrage. “Who are you to intrude in my house?”

Reith ignored
him. He picked up Zap 210’s undergown, a torn tangle of cloth. He turned to
look at Otwile. Cauch spoke from the doorway. “Come, Adam Reith; fetch the
girl. Do not trouble yourself.”

Reith paid no
heed. He moved slowly toward Otwile, who waited, smiling coldly, hands on hips.
Reith approached to within three feet. Otwile, six inches taller, smiled down
at him.

Zap 210 said
in a husky croak: “It wasn’t his fault. I wore an orange sash ... I didn’t
know...”

Reith turned
slowly away. He found Zap 210’s gray gown, pulled it over her slender body. He
saw what had outraged Otwile; he could hardly control a great cry to express
sorrow and pity and terrible grim amusement. He put his arm around Zap 210 and
started to lead her from the room.

Otwile was
dissatisfied. He had been awaiting a touch, a motion, even a word, to serve as
a trigger for his muscles. Was he to be denied even the gratification of
beating the man who had invaded his chambers? The bubble of his rage burst. He
bounced forward and swung his leg in a kick.

Reith was
pleased to find Otwile active. Twisting, he caught Otwile’s ankle, pulled,
dragged the champion hopping out into the garden, and sent him careening into a
thicket of scarlet bamboo. Otwile sprang forth like a leopard. He halted, stood
with arms out, grimacing hideously, clenching and unclenching his hands. Reith
punched him in the face. Otwile seemed not to notice. He reached for Reith, who
backed away, hacking at the heavy wrists. Otwile came forward, crowding Reith
against the side-wall. Reith feinted, punched with his left hand and rapped his
knuckles into Otwile’s face. Otwile gave a small flat-footed jump forward, and
another, then he gave a hideous rasping scream, and swung his great arm in an
open-handed slap. Reith ducked below, hit Otwile full in the belly, and as Otwile
jerked up his knee, seized the crooked leg, heaved up, and sent Otwile down
flat on his back with a thud like a falling tree. For a moment Otwile lay
dazed, then he slowly struggled to a sitting position. With a single backward
glance Reith led Zap 210 from the garden. Cauch bowed politely toward Otwile
and followed.

Reith took
Zap 210 to the inn. She sat on the couch in her cubicle, clutching the gray
gown about herself, limp and miserable. Reith sat down beside her. “What
happened?”

Tears dripped
down her cheeks; she held her hands to her face. Reith stroked her head.
Presently she wiped her eyes. “I don’t know what I did wrong-unless it was the
sash. He made me drink wine until I became dizzy. He took me through the
streets ... I felt very strange. I could hardly walk. In the house I wouldn’t
take off my clothes and he became angry. Then he saw me and he became even
angrier. He said I was unclean ... I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m
sick, I’m dying.”

Reith said, “No,
you’re not sick or dying. Your body has started to function normally. There’s
nothing whatever wrong with you.”

“I’m not
unclean?”

“Of course
not.” Reith rose to his feet. “I’ll send in a maid to take care of you. Then
just lie quietly and sleep until I return-I hope with enough money to put us
aboard a ship.”

Zap 210
nodded listlessly; Reith departed the cubicle.

At the cafe
Reith found Cauch and two young Zsafathrans who had come to Urmank aboard the
second cart. “This is Schazar; this is Widisch,” said Cauch. “Both are reckoned
competent; I have no doubt but that they will fulfill any reasonable
requirements.”

“In that
case,” said Reith, “let’s be off about our business. We haven’t too much time
to spare, or so I should judge.”

The four
sauntered off down the quay. Reith explained his theories: “-which now we must
put to the test. Mind you, I may be wrong, in which case the project will fail.”

“No,” said
Cauch. “You have employed an extraordinary mental process to adduce what I now
see to be limpid truth.”

“The process
is called logic,” said Reith. “It is not always dependable. But we shall see.”

They passed
the eel-race table, where a few folk had already settled at the benches, ready
for the day’s gambling. Reith hurried his steps: under the portal, through the
dismal byways of Urmank Old Town, toward the shed under the psilla tree. They
halted fifty yards away and took cover in a ruined hut at the edge of the
wastelands.

Ten minutes
passed. Reith began to fidget. “I can’t believe that we’ve come too late.”

The young man
Schazar pointed across the wastes, to the far end of the wall. “Two men.”

The men
strolled closer. One affected the flowing white robes and square white hat of
an Erze Island Sage: “The eel-master,” muttered Cauch. The other, a young man,
wore a pink skullcap and a light pink cape. The two walked casually and
confidently along the trail and parted company near the shed. The eel-master
continued toward the portal. Widisch said: “Easier merely to waylay the old
charlatan and divest him of his pouch; the effect, after all, is the same.”

“Unfortunately,”
said Cauch, “he carries no sequins on his person, and makes the fact well
known. His funds are brought to the eel-races daily by four armed slaves under
the supervision of his chief wife.”

The young man
in pink strolled to the shed. He fitted a key in the lock, turned it three
times, opened the ponderous door and entered the shed. He turned with surprise
to find that Reith and Schazar had also pushed into the shed beside him. He
attempted to bluster. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I will speak
one time only,” said Reith. “We want your unstinting cooperation; otherwise we
will hang you by the toes to yonder psilla. Is that clear?”

“I understand
perfectly,” said the young man with a quaver.

“Describe the
routine.”

The young man
hesitated. Reith nodded to Schazar, who brought forth a coil of hard cord. The
young man said quickly, “The routine is quite simple. I undress and step into
the tank.” He indicated a cylindrical pool four feet in diameter at the back of
the shed. “A tube communicates with the reservoir; the level in the tank and
that in the reservoir are the same. I swim through the tube to the reservoir
and come up into a space in the peripheral frame. As soon as the lid is
lowered, I open a partition. I reach into the reservoir and move the specified
eel to the edge of the chute.”

“And how is
the color specified?”

“By the
eel-master’s finger-taps on the top of the lid.”

Reith turned
to Cauch. “Schazar and I are now in control. I suggest that you now take your
places at the table.” He spoke to the young man in pink: “Is there sufficient
space for two under the reservoir?”

“Yes,” said
the young man grudgingly. “Just barely. But tell me: if I cooperate with you,
how will I protect myself from the eel-master?”

“Be frank with
him,” said Reith. “State that you value your life more than his sequins.”

“He will say
that as far as he is concerned, affairs are reversed.”

“Too bad,”
said Reith. “The hazard of your trade. How soon should we be in position?”

“Within a
minute or so.”

Reith removed
his outer garments. “If by some ineptness we are detected ... surely the
consequences are as plain to you as to me.”

The
apprentice merely grunted. He doffed his pink robe. “Follow me.” He stepped
into the tank. “The way is dark but straight.”

Reith joined
him in the tank. The young man drew a deep breath and submerged; Reith did the
same. At the bottom, finding a horizontal tube about three feet in diameter, he
pulled himself through, staying close behind the apprentice.

They surfaced
in a space about four feet long, a foot and a half high, a foot wide. Light
entered through artfully arranged crevices, which also allowed a view over the
gaming tables; Reith thus could see that both Cauch and Widisch had found
places along the counter.

From near at
hand came the eel-master’s voice. “Welcome all to another day of exciting
races. Who will win? Who will lose? No one knows. It may be me, it may be you.
But we all will enjoy the fun of the races. For those who are new to our little
game, you will notice that the board before you is marked with eleven colors.
You may bet any amount on any of the colors. If your color wins, you are paid
ten times the amount of your bet. Note these eels and their colors: white,
gray, tawny, light blue, brown, dark red, vermilion, blue, green, violet,
black. Are there any questions?”