The Universe Twister (30 page)

"You think if I dress fancy and tiptoe around not getting my hands dirty, that'll make me any better than what I am?"

"That's not what I meant. I just meant—"

"Never mind, Lafe. The conversation is getting too deep. I got a nice little body on me, and I'm strong and willing. If I can't get by on that, to perdition with the lace pants, get me?"

"I'll tell you what: when we get to the capital, we'll go and have your hair done, and—"

"My hair's Jake with me like it is. Skip it, Lafe. Let's get moving. We still got a long way to go before we can flop—and getting across that lake won't be no picnic."

The lake shore in the lee of the rocky headland was marshy, odiferous of mud and rotted vegetables and expired fish. Lafayette and Swinehild stood shivering in ankle-deep muck, scanning the dark-curving strand for signs of commercial transportation facilities to ferry them out to the island city, the lights of which winked and sparkled cheerfully across the black waters.

"I guess the old tub sank," Swinehild said. "Used to be it ran out to the city every hour on the hour, a buck-fifty one way."

"It looks like we'll have to find an alternative mode of travel," O'Leary commented. "Come on. These huts along the shore are probably fishermen's shacks. We ought to be able to hire a man to row us out."

"I ought to warn you, Lafe, these fishermen got a kind of unsavory rep. Like as not they'd tap you over the head and clean out your pockets, and throw the remains in the lake."

"That's a chance we'll have to take. We can't stay here freezing to death."

"Listen, Lafe—" She caught at his arm. "Let's just scout along the shore and find us a rowboat that ain't tied down too good, and—"

"You mean steal some poor fellow's means of livelihood? Swinehild, I'm ashamed of you!"

"O.K., you wait here and
I'll
take care of getting the boat."

"Your attitude does you no credit, Swinehild," Lafayette said sternly. "We'll go about this in a straightforward, aboveboard manner. Honesty is the best policy, remember that."

"You sure got some funny ideas, Lafe. But it's your neck."

He led the way across the mud to the nearest shack, a falling-down structure of water-rotted boards with a rusted stovepipe poking out the side, from which a meager coil of smoke shredded into the brisk, icy wind. A faint gleam of light shone under the single boarded-up window. Lafayette rapped at the door. After a pause, bedsprings creaked inside.

"Yeah?" a hoarse voice responded without enthusiasm.

"Ah—we're a couple of travelers," Lafayette called. "We need transportation out to the capital. We're prepared to pay well—" he
oof!
ed as Swinehild's elbow drove into his side. "As well as we can, that is."

Muttering was audible, accompanied by the sound of a bolt being withdrawn. The door opened six inches, and a bleary, red-rimmed eye under a shaggy eyebrow peered forth at shoulder level.

"What are youse?" the voice that went with the eye said. "Nuts or something?"

"Mind your tone," Lafayette said sharply. "There's a lady present."

The bleary eye probed past O'Leary at Swinehild. The wide mouth visible below the eye stretched in a grin that revealed a surprising number of large, carious teeth.

"Whyncha say so, sport? That's different." The eye tracked appreciatively down, paused, up again. "Yeah, not bad at all. What did you say youse wanted, squire?"

"We have to get to Port Miasma," Lafayette said, sidling over to block the cabin dweller's view of Swinehild. "It's a matter of vast importance."

"Yeah. Well, in the morning—"

"We can't wait until morning," Lafayette cut in. "Aside from the fact that we have no intention of spending the night on this mud flat, it's essential that we get away—I mean reach the capital without delay."

"Well—I'll tell you what I'll do; outa the goodness of my heart I'll let the little lady spend the night inside. I'll throw you out a tarp, cap'n, to keep the wind off, and in the A.M.—"

"You don't seem to understand," O'Leary cut in. "We want to go now—at once—immediately."

"Uh-huh," the native said, covering a cavernous yawn with a large-knuckled hand matted on the back with dense black hairs. "Well, Cull, what youse need is a boat—"

"Look here," O'Leary snapped. "I'm standing out here in the cold wind offering you this"—he reached in his pocket and produced a second Artesian fifty-cent piece—"to ferry us out there! Are you interested, or aren't you?"

"Hey!" the man said. "That looks like solid silver."

"Naturally," Lafayette said. "Do you want it or don't you?"

"Geeze, thanks, bub—" The knuckly hand reached, but Lafayette snatched the coin back.

"Ah-ah," he reproved. "First you have to row us out to the city."

"Yeah." The hand went up to scratch at a rumpled head of coarse black hair with a sound like a carpenter filing a knot. "There's just one small problem area there, yer lordship. But maybe I got a solution," he added more briskly. "But the price will be the silver piece plus a sample o' the little lady's favors. I'll take a little o' that last on account." The hand poked at O'Leary as if to brush him aside. He gave it a sharp rap on the knuckles, at which the owner jerked it back and popper the wounded members into his mouth.

"Ouch!" he said, looking up at O'Leary reproachfully. "That hurt, guy!"

"It was meant to," Lafayette said coldly. "If I weren't in such a hurry, I'd haul you out of there and give you a sound thrashing!"

"Yeah? Well, you might run into a little trouble there, chief. I'm kind of a heavy guy to haul around." There was a stir, and the head thrust through the door, followed by a pair of shoulders no wider than a hay rick, a massive torso; on all fours, the owner of the hut emerged, climbed to a pair of feet the size of skate boards, and stood, towering a good seven-foot-six into the damp night air.

"So O.K., I'll wait and collect at the other end," the monster said. "Prob'ly a good idea if I work up a good sweat first anyway. Wait here. I'll be back in short order."

"I got to hand it to you, Lafe," Swinehild murmured as the giant strode away into the mist. "You don't let a little beef scare you." She looked lingeringly after the big man. "Not that he don't have a certain animal charm," she added.

"If he lays a hand on you, I'll tear his head off and stuff it down his throat!" Lafayette snapped.

"Hey, Lafe—you're jealous!" Swinehild said delightedly. "But don't let it get out of hand," she added. "I had enough of getting backhanded ears over teakettle every time some bum looks over my architecture."

"Jealous? Me? You're out of your mind." O'Leary jammed his hands in his pockets and began pacing up and down, while Swinehild hummed softly to herself and twiddled with her hair.

It was the better part of a quarter of an hour before the big man returned, moving with surprising softness for his bulk.

"All set," he called in a hoarse whisper. "Let's go."

"What's all the creeping around and whispering for?" O'Leary demanded loudly. "What—" With a swift move, the giant clapped a hand as hard as saddle leather across his mouth.

"Keep it down, Bo," he hissed. "We don't want to wake the neighbors. The boys need their sleep, the hours they work."

O'Leary squirmed free of the grip, snorting a sharp odor of tar and herring from his nostrils.

"Well, naturally, I don't want to commit a nuisance," he whispered. He took Swinehild's hand, led her in the wake of their guide down across the mucky beach to a crumbling stone jetty at the end of which a clumsy, flat-bottomed dory was tied up. It settled six inches lower in the water as the big man climbed in and settled himself on the rowing bench. Lafayette handed Swinehild down, gritting his teeth as the boatman picked her up by the waist and lifted her past him to the stern seat.

"You sit in the front, bub, and watch for floating logs," the big man said. Lafayette was barely in his place when the oars dipped in and sent the boat off with a surge that almost tipped him over the side. He hung on grimly, listening to the creak of the oarlocks, the splash of small waves under the bow, watching the deck recede swiftly, to disappear into the gathering mist. Twisting to look over his shoulder, he saw the distant city lights, haloed by fog, floating far away across the choppy black water. The damp wind seemed to penetrate his bones.

"How long will the trip take?" he called hoarsely, hugging himself.

"Shhh," the oarsman hissed over his shoulder.

"What's the matter now? Are you afraid you'll wake up the fish?" Lafayette snapped.

"Have a heart, pal," the big man whispered urgently. "Sound carries over water like nobody's business . . ." He cocked his head as if listening. Faintly, from the direction of the shore, Lafayette heard a shout.

"Well, it seems everybody isn't as scrupulous as we are," he said tartly. "Is it all right if we talk now? Or—"

"Can it, Buster!" the giant hissed. "They'll hear us!"

"Who?" Lafayette inquired loudly. "What's going on here? Why are we acting like fugitives?"

"On account of the guy I borrowed the boat from might not like the idea too good," the giant rumbled. "But I guess the fat's on the hotplate now. Some o' them guys got ears like bats."

"What idea might the fellow you borrowed the boat from not like?" Lafayette inquired in a puzzled tone.

"The idea I borrowed the boat."

"You mean you didn't have his permission?"

"I hate to wake a guy outa a sound sleep wit' a like frivolous request."

"Why, you . . . you . . ."

"Just call me Clutch, bub. Save the fancy names for the bums which are now undoubtedly pushing off in pursuit." Clutch bent his back to the oars, sending the boat leaping ahead.

"Great," Lafayette groaned. "Perfect. This is our reward for being honest: a race through the night with the police baying on our trail!"

"I'll level wit' youse," Clutch said. "These boys ain't no cops. And they ain't got what you'd call a whole lot o' inhibitions. If they catch us, what they'll hand us won't be no subpoena."

"Look," Lafayette said quickly, "we'll turn back, and explain that the whole thing was a misunderstanding—"

"Maybe you like the idea o' being fed to the fish, yer worship, but not me," Clutch stated. "And we got the little lady to think of, too. Them boys is a long time between gals."

"Don't waste breath," Lafayette said. "Save it for rowing."

"If I row any harder, the oars'll bust," Clutch said. "Sound like they're gaining on us, Cull. Looks like I'll have to lighten ship."

"Good idea," Lafayette agreed. "What can we throw overboard?"

"Well, there ain't no loose gear to jettison; and I got to stick wit' the craft in order to I should row. And naturally we can't toss the little lady over the side, except as a last resort, like. So I guess that leaves you, chum."

"Me?" Lafayette echoed. "Look here, Clutch—I'm the one who hired you, remember? You can't be serious—"

"Afraid so, Mac." The big man shipped oars, dusted his hands, and turned on his bench.

"But—who's going to pay you, if I'm in the lake?" O'Leary temporized, retreating to the farthermost angle of the bows.

"Yeah—there is that," Clutch agreed, stroking his Gibralterlike chin. "Maybe you better hand over the poke first."

"Not a chance. If I go, it goes!"

"Well—I guess we ain't got room to like scuffle. So—since youse want to be petty about it, I'll just have to collect double from the little lady." Clutch rose in a smooth lunge, one massive arm reaching for Lafayette. The latter ducked under the closing hand and launched himself in a headfirst dive at the other's midriff, instead crashed into a brick wall that had suddenly replaced it. As he clawed at the floorboards, he was dimly aware of a swishing sound, a solid
thud!
as of a mallet striking a tent stake, followed a moment later by a marine earthquake which tossed the boat like a juggler's egg. A faceful of icy water brought him upright, striking out gamely.

"Easy, Lafe," Swinehild called. "I clipped him with the oar and he landed on his chin. Damn near swamped us. We better get him over the side fast."

Lafayette focused his eyes with difficulty, made out the inert form of the giant draped face down across the gunwale, one oak-root arm trailing in the water.

"We . . . we can't do that," Lafayette gasped. "He's unconscious; he'd drown." He took the oar from her, groped his way to the rower's bench, thrust Clutch's elephantine leg aside, dipped in, and pulled—

The oar snapped with a sharp report, sending Lafayette in a forward dive into the scuppers.

"I guess I swung it too hard," Swinehild said regretfully. "It's all that skillet-work done it."

Lafayette scrabbled back to the bench, ignoring the shooting pains in his head, neck, eyeballs, and elsewhere. "I'll have to scull with one oar," he panted. "Which direction?"

"Dunno," Swinehild said. "But I guess it don't matter much. Look."

O'Leary followed her pointing finger. A ghostly white patch, roughly triangular in shape, loomed off the port bow, rushing toward them out of the dense fog.

"It's a sailboat," Lafayette gasped as the pursuer hove into full view, cleaving the mist. He could see half a dozen men crouched on the deck of the vessel. They raised a shout as they saw the drifting rowboat, changed course to sweep up alongside. Lafayette shattered the remaining oar over the head of the first of the borders to leap the rail, before an iceberg he had failed to notice until that moment fell on him, burying him under a hundred tons of boulders and frozen mammoth bones . . .

O'Leary regained consciousness standing on his face in half an inch of iced cabbage broth with a temple gong echoing in his skull. The floor under him was rising up and up and over in a never-ending loop-the-loop, but when he attempted to clutch for support he discovered that both arms had been lopped off at the shoulder. He worked his legs, succeeded in driving his face farther into the bilge, which sloshed and gurgled merrily down between his collar and his neck before draining away with the next tilt of the deck. He threshed harder, flopped over on his back, and blinked his eyes clear. He was lying, it appeared, in the cockpit of the small sailing craft. His arms had not been amputated after all, he discovered as fiery pains lanced out from his tightly bound wrists.