Seahorse in the Sky

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ABSU MES MARUR and his pathfinder, a small wiry man, darker and yet even more mongolian in features than his master, brought back to the Erewhon Hilton what was left of Tore Norstedt. They rode their pulpuls up to the hotel late one afternoon when a pleasantly cool breeze was blowing away the little drifts of feathery seeds that had been accumulating, despite frequent attempts at clearance, for several weeks.

The battered, barely recognizable and half-severed body of Tore Norstedt was slung across the back of the pathfinder’s pulpul. Janice was the first to see it, and mercifully fainted after uttering a thin and heart-rending scream.

As the rest of the terrestrials poured out of the hotel, Absu said: “Russell, my friend, bid your women to leave us. What I sorrowfully bring you is enough to challenge the eyes and stomach of a man.”

John Howard was already shepherding the women away.

“There is a place where we have already buried one of our companions,” said Russell, looking at Tore with difficulty. “I would be grateful, Absu, if we can take the body of our friend there, also. I think we shall want to lay him to rest in the earth as soon as possible.”

Absu and the pathfinder dismounted. They followed Russell and John Howard to the place where Marina was buried, the pathfinder leading his pulpul with its sad and terrible burden.

The feathery seeds from the savannah were already piled high over Marina’s grave, with only the tip of the cross showing above the whitish, billowy mound. Russell found the exact spot with difficulty. He was thinking bleakly that perhaps the time had come to establish a formal cemetery.

Presently the small party was joined by Andrew Payne, who brought two spades. He had also brought a plain white sheet from the hotel. He spread the sheet out, and Tore was laid gently on it.

Absu said: “Lord Russell, this my servant, Farn zem Marur, discovered the body of your warrior. Greet him, that he may speak of it.” Then he turned to the pathfinder. “Greet the lord Russell Grahame,” he said solemnly. “Member of Parliament, Voice of the Queen’s People, Creator of the Royal Laws and one of great stature in his own land.”

Farn zem Marur went down on his knees, took a poniard from inside his leather jerkin, placed the point on his breast and offered the hilt to Russell. “Lord Russell Grahame, I am Farn zem Marur, pathfinder and warrior, if my life is required.”

“Welcome,” said Russell, at a loss. “You bring a sad burden, yet you are welcome.” He held out his hand to take the hilt of the poniard and give it back to the pathfinder. He knew that Absu was very keen on formality, and hoped that he was doing the right thing. He wasn’t. “Do not touch the weapon,” warned Absu, “unless you wish to kill him. He needs to know only that his life is not required.”

“Stand, Farn zem Marur,” said Russell, gravely. “Your life is not required.”

The pathfinder stood up, a look of relief on his face. “Lord, I may speak?”

“You may speak.”

“I discovered the body of your warrior, Lord Russell, many varaks to the north of Keep Marur. I had been commanded by my sept lord to draw pictures of all the land wherein we now live, so that these pictures might again be drawn for you also… Lord, I know not what to say of the death of your warrior.

There was not the smell or mark of wild beasts about him. Nor yet were there wounds such as are received in battle. It may be that demons have made sport of him.”

“The demons who did this work,” said Russell grimly, “are such that I and my companions would wish to encounter.”

“Well spoken,” said Absu. “But a man cannot offer combat to demons, Russell… If, however, these demons be of fleshly form, the lances of Keep Marur would joyfully demand of them a reckoning.”

“Lord,” said the pathfinder, “the body of this man was much plagued by flies and other small creatures when I found him. Therefore I formed the idea that he had died some time before. Though I looked for the agent of destruction, there was nothing to be seen. Yet he lay wedged between two rocks in such a manner that the task of loosing him was both difficult and one of little joy.”

While the pathfinder had been talking, John Howard had steeled himself to examine Tore’s body.

He held something up and looked at Russell, pale and trembling.

“What do you make of that?”

Russell looked at the frayed and bloody wire. He saw where the strands seemed to enter into the half severed waist. “That explains, at least, how he was almost cut in two,” said Russell with difficulty.

“Some bastard was probably dragging him along. He got wedged between the rocks, and whoever or whatever was on the other end of the wire just didn’t want to know.”

“Or wasn’t equipped to know,” said John with a sudden intuitive flash. “Russell, the last tune anybody saw Tore was that night when he told the girls he had an extra guard duty.” “But we know he didn’t have one.”

“Exactly. There was something he wanted to do, and it could only be done at night… Three guesses?”

Andrew Payne shivered and felt the scar on his neck. “Spiders,” he said.

“That’s it! Tore was laying a trap for one of the spiders… My guess is he wanted to follow one and see where it went. But in the dark he might lose it. So he found some way of attaching himself to the bloody thing.”

Russell forced himself to bend down and look more closely at the remains. “The injuries could have been caused by him being dragged, I suppose… Maybe he fell over and couldn’t get up again. Or maybe the damned robot went far too fast for him, and he didn’t get a chance to free himself.”

“I think we’ve got it!”

“I think so, too… Well, let’s put poor Tore into the ground. There’s nothing else we can do for him.

I expect the others will want to say their goodbyes to him, but we can leave that till tomorrow.” He turned to Absu. “Allow us to lay our comrade to rest. It will ease our minds to bury him in the earth according to our custom. Afterwards, we will talk and offer you refreshment.”

“Why do you not burn him?” asked Absu. “It is the custom in Gren Li to burn our dead. Thus are their spirits liberated into the air which gives them life.”

“In our land also the dead are sometimes burned,” replied Russell. “But here, on this strange world, we find it easier to bury.”

“It is permitted that strangers be present?”

“We welcome your presence.”

“Thus is our bond strengthened,” said Absu simply. He watched Andrew start digging with a spade while John and Russell wrapped the body carefully in the plain white sheet. Then he glanced at the other spade and motioned to his pathfinder. “Farn zem Marur, we have brought a present of grief to this sept and the lord of this sept. Make deep the hole, that the friend of our friends and the grief of his death may be hidden from the sight of man for ever.”