Son of the Tree

VI

HABLEYAT'S EYES went to the plant on the shelf. He shook his head, clicked his tongue, turned a reproachful gaze on Joe. «My dear fellow, you have been instrumental in ruining a very careful plan.»

«If you had asked me,» said Joe, «if I wanted to donate my life to the success of your schemes I could have saved you a lot of grief.»

Hableyat bleated his laugh without moving a muscle of his face. «You are charming. I am happy that you are still with us. But now I fear there is to be a quarrel.»

The three Mangs were marching in belligerent single-file along the balcony, the old officer, Erru Kametin, in the lead, followed by the two civilians. Erru Kametin came to a stiff halt, bristling like an angry cur. «Lord Hableyat, this is sheer outrage. You have interfered with an officer of the Reach in his duty.»

« 'Interfered'?» protested Hableyat. «I have killed him. As to his 'duty'–since when has a rakehelly Redbranch tag-at-heels been ranked with a member of the Ampianu General?»

«We have our orders direct from Magnerru Ippolito. You have no slightest supercession–»

«Magnerru Ippolito, if you recall,» said Hableyat smoothly, «is responsible to the Lathbon, who sits with the Blue-water on the General.»

«A pack of white-blooded cravens!» shouted the officer. «You and the rest of the Bluewaters!»

The Mang woman on the main deck, who had been straining to glimpse the events on the balcony, screamed. Then came Manaolo's metallic voice. «Miserable dingy dogs!»

He bounded up to the balcony, lithe and strong, tremendous in his fury. With one hand he seized the shoulder of one civilian, hurled him to the catwalk, did the same for the other. He lifted Erru Kametin, tossed him bodily over the balcony. Dropping slowly in the half-gravity Erru Kametin landed with a grunt. Manaolo turned to Hableyat, who held out a protesting hand. «A moment, Ecclesiarch, please use no force on my poor corpulence.»

The wild face showed no flicker of emotion. The crouch of his body was answer to Hableyat's words.

Joe drew in his breath, stepped forward, threw a left jab, a hard right and Manaolo sprawled to the deck, where he lay looking at Joe with dead-black eyes.

«Sorry,» lied Joe. «But Hableyat just saved my life and Elfane's. Give him time to talk anyway.»

Manaolo jumped to his feet, without a word entered Elfane's cabin, shut and locked the door. Hableyat turned, stared quizzically at Joe. «We have returned each other compliments.»

Joe said, «I'd like to know what's going on. No, I don't either–I want to mind my own business. I have my own troubles. I wish you'd keep yours to yourself.»

Hableyat shook his head slowly as if in puzzled admiration. «For one of your professed intent you hurl yourself into the thick of things. But if you'll come to my cabin I have an excellent aquavit which will form the basis of a pleasant relaxation.»

«Poison?» inquired Joe.

Hableyat shook his head gravely. «Merely excellent brandy.»

The captain of the vessel called a meeting of the passengers. He was a large heavy man with dead-white hair, a flat-white face, liquid-green eyes, a thin pink mouth. He wore the Beland skin-tight garment of dark-green with glass epaulets and a scarlet ruff above each elbow.

The passengers sat in the deep couches–the two civilian Mangs; the woman, red-eyed from crying, Erru Kametin, Hableyat, serene and easy in a loose robe of a dull white stuff with Joe next to him. Beside Joe sat the gaunt bald woman in the black gown and she had a sickly-sweet odor about her that was neither floral nor animal. Then came the Cils, then the two Druids, placid and secure, then Elfane and last, Manaolo. He wore a striking garment of light-green sateen with gold striping along the legs. A light flat morion perched jauntily on his dark curls.

The captain spoke ponderously. «I am aware that a tension exists between the worlds of Kyril and Mangtse. But this ship is the property of Beland, and we are resolved to remain dispassionate and neutral.

«There was a killing this morning. So far as I have been able to gather Erru Ex Amma was discovered searching the cabin of Lord Smith and, when apprehended, forced Smith into the cabin of the Priestess Alnietho»–using the name Elfane had signed to the passenger list–»where he threatened to kill them both. Lord Hableyat, in a praiseworthy effort to avoid an interplanetary incident, appeared and killed his countryman Erru Ex Amma.

«The other Mangs, protesting, were engaged violently by Ecclesiarch Manaolo, who also began to attack Lord Hableyat. Lord Smith, anxious lest Manaolo, in his ignorance of the true state of affairs, injure Lord Hableyat, struck Manaolo with his fist. I believe, in essence, that is the gist of the affair.»

He paused. No one spoke. Hableyat sat twiddling his forefingers around each other with his plump lower lips hanging loose. Joe was aware of Elfane sitting stiff and silent and he felt a slow look from Manaolo drift over him–his face, shoulders, legs.

The captain continued. «To the best of my belief, the culprit in this case, Erru Ex Amma, has been punished by death. The rest of you are guilty of nothing more than hot tempers. But I do not propose to countenance further incidents. On any such occasion the participants will be hypnotized and webbed into their hammocks for the duration of the voyage.

«It is Beland tradition that our ships are neutral ground and our livelihood stems from this reputation. I will not see it challenged. Quarrels, personal or interplanetary, must wait till you are away from my authority.» He bowed heavily. «Thank you for your attention.»

The Mangs immediately arose, the woman departing for her cabin to weep, the three men to their game with the colored bars, Hableyat to the promenade. The gaunt woman sat without movement, staring at the spot where the captain had stood. The Cils wandered to the ship's library. The Druid missionaries converged on Manaolo.

Elfane arose, stretched her slim young arms, looked quickly toward Joe, then to Manaolo's broad back. She made up her mind, crossed the room to Joe, settled on the couch beside him. «Tell me, Lord Smith–what did Hableyat talk to you about when he took you to his room?»

Joe moved uneasily in his seat. «Priestess–I can't be a tale-bearer between Druids and Mangs. In this particular case we spoke of nothing very important. He asked me about my life on Earth, he was interested in the man I've come out here seeking. I described a number of the planets I've stopped at. We drank a good deal of brandy, and that was about all there was to it.»

Elfane bit her lip impatiently. «I cannot understand why Hableyat protected us from the young Mang... What does he gain? He is as completely Mang as the other. He would die rather than allow the Druids to take sovereignty over Ballenkarch.»

Joe said, «You and Manaolo are certainly not en route to take over sovereignty of Ballenkarch?»

She gave him a wide-eyed stare, then drummed her fingers on her leg. Joe smiled to himself. In anyone else the assumptions of unlimited authority would be a matter of serious irritation. In Elfane–Joe, charmed and bewitched, dismissed it as an intriguing mannerism. He laughed.

«Why do you laugh?» she asked suspiciously.

«You remind me of a kitten dressed up in doll's clothes –very proud of itself.»

She flushed, her eyes sparkled. «So–you laugh at me!»

After an instant of contemplation Joe asked, «Don't you ever laugh at yourself?»

«No. Of course not.»

«Try it some time.» He arose to his feet, went to the gymnasium.