A Far Sunset

THIRTY-FOUR

There were now only two experienced pole-men to control the barge. But by this time Paul himself had acquired some of the tricks and the rhythm of poling, and he was able to relieve Shon Hu and Zu Shan for reasonably long spells; while Nemo continued to nurse his still aching bones in the stern of the small craft. Fortunately, navigation was not too difficult for they were now passing down stream. The poling was necessary as much to guide the barge as to add to its speed.

The journey back from the Temple of the White Darkness to the bank of the river had been easier than Paul had expected. Perhaps it was psychologically easier because they were relieved because the mountain had been reached without any further disasters, and they were now going home. Or perhaps it was because they were already familiar with the hazards of the route and also because Shon Hu’s uncanny sense of direction had enabled them to reach the Watering of Oruri less than a kilometre from where they had sunk the barge.

Shon Hu had completely recovered from his snow blindness by the time they had reached the savannah. As soon as they were on the lower ground, they made camp and rested for a day and a night before going back into the forest. They did not hear the voice of the Aru Re again—though, out of curiosity, Paul exercised what mental concentration he possessed in an attempt to contact it telepathically. It seemed as if the star ship had now dismissed diem altogether from its lofty contemplations.

Though they had found the barge without too much difficulty, it took the three of them the best part of an afternoon to clear it of stones and sediment and refloat it. By that time they were tired out; and though there was still enough light left to pass the Lokhali village before darkness fell, Shon Hu judged it safer to wait until the following morning. By then the barge would have dried out and, with a full day’s poling, they could be far from the Lokhali before they had to make a night camp once more.

So it was that shordy after dawn the barge drifted round a slight bend in the Watering of Oruri, and the Lokhali village came in sight. There were few people about this time—probably many of the Lokhali were still at their morning meal— but three or four men were sitting in a little group, desultorily fashioning what looked like spear shafts out of straight, slender pieces of wood. There were also some women bathing or washing. And one who stood apart from the rest and seemed neither to be bathing or washing, but watching.

Paul handed his pole back to Zu Shan and took up his sweeper rifle. At a distance of perhaps a hundred metres, he saw that there was something odd about the solitary woman. She was virtually naked as the rest were; and at that distance her skin seemed quite as dark as that of the others—but she had white hair. Everyone else had black hair. But this one, the solitary one, had white hair.

Paul cast his mind back desperately to die occupants of the Gloria Mundi. None of them had white hair. With the exception of the Swedish woman who had been—inevitably— blonde, all of them had been rather dark. And Ann—Ann’s hair had been quite black.

But there was something about the solitary woman on the bank, now only sixty or seventy metres away…

Paul had long ago decided on a plan of action if there were any Gloria Mundi survivors, able to move freely, in the Lokhali village. It was an extremely simple plan, but his resources were such that it was impossible to risk anything elaborate like a direct assault. For the atomic charge in the sweeper rifle was now ominously low.

However, there were still three factors in his favour: he had some element of surprise, he had a strange and powerful weapon, and he knew that the Lokhali didn’t like travelling on water.

Shon Hu and Zu Shan had already been warned to keep the barge steady on command. Now, if only…

The Lokhali had seen the barge; but though the women had come out of the water and the men had picked up their spears, no one seemed inclined to try to do anything about it. They just stood and stared—sullenly and intently. The woman with the white hair seemed to be concentrating her attention on Paul, and on the weapon he held.

With little more than forty metres separating the barge from the bank, Paul judged that now, if at all, he must make the attempt. Probably there were no Europeans left. And even if there were, the chances of being able to contact them, quite apart from rescuing them, would be pretty remote.

And yet… And yet… And yet, the woman with the white hair seemed to be meeting his gaze. That slight movement of the arm—could it be a discreet signal?

‘Gloria Mundi’ he shouted. ‘Gloria Mundi’ He raised the rifle and waved it. ‘Into the water—quick! Venez id! Kommen sie hier! I’ll give covering fire! ’

Suddenly, the woman with the white hair ran into the water, splashing and wading out to swimming depth. To Paul it seemed as if she were moving in horribly slow motion. But the miraculous thing was nobody looked like stopping her. Then a woman cried out and the spell was broken. A tall Lokhali swung his spear arm back, so did another. Then a third began to run after the woman with white hair. The water was not yet up to her waist, and she still did not have free swimming room.

‘Hurry, damn you! ’ he shouted. ‘Hurry! ’

He sighted the rifle carefully over her head, fixing on the patch of water between her and the bank. He pressed the trigger.

The rifle whined feebly, faintly; and the water began to hiss and steam. The Lokhali who had tried to follow stopped dead. The two with spears ran towards him. The woman was already able to swim, and the bubbling water behind her had now turned into a water spout—effectively deterring pursuit and partly screening her from die men on the bank.

Then the sweeper rifle died. Its atomic charge had finally reached equilibrium.

The water spout subsided. All that was left to deter the Lokhali was a patch of very warm water—rapidly being carried downstream by the current—and a condensing cloud of steam.

One of the Lokhali hurled a spear. It fell almost exactly between the woman and the barge. By that time, she was less than twenty metres away from it, but she was making very slow progress and seemed curiously tired.

If Paul had stopped to think then, the tragedy might possibly have been averted. It did not occur to him until later that the spear might have been hurled not at the woman but at the barge.

But, without thinking, he flung the useless rifle down and dived into the water, hoping at least to create a diversion. It was not the diversion he had hoped for. Before he hit the water, the Lokhali on the bank had found their voices. By the time he had surfaced, they were being reinforced by other warriors from the village.

Another spear plunged into the river quite near to him, and then another. A few powerful strokes brought him to the woman. There was no time to try to discover who she was.

‘Turn on your back! ’ he yelled. ‘I’ll tow you! ’

Obediently, she turned over. He grasped her under the armpits and with rapid, nervous kicks propelled them both back to the barge. Suddenly, he felt a blow, and the woman shuddered, letting out a great sigh. He paid no attention to it, being intent only on getting them both to the comparative safety of the barge.

Somehow, he got her there.

As Shon Hu hauled her aboard, he saw the short spear that was sticking in her stomach and the dark rivulet of blood that pulsed over her brown flesh.

Then he hauled himself aboard and knelt there, panting with exertion, gazing at the contorted but still recognizable features of Ann.

‘Get it out! ’ she hissed. ‘For God’s sake get it out! ’

Then she fainted.