The Search for Zei

CHAPTER XI

On the boulevard, beside the depot, a big stagecoach drawn by six horned ayas stood waiting. The expressman who had ridden with them from Majbur was already there, talking with the driver, but of Sir Gavao there was no sign.

Barnevelt asked the driver: "Is this the diligence for Ghulinde?"

Receiving the affirmative head motion, he and Tangaloa gave the man the remaining stubs of their combination rail-and-coach tickets. They stowed their bag on top (the baggage-rack at the rear being full) and climbed in with their birdcage.

The interior of the coach seated about a dozen and, by the time the vehicle left, it was somewhat over half full. Most of the passengers wore the wrap-around garb of Qirib, which reminded Barnevelt of the patrons of a Turkish bath instead of the tailored garments of the more northerly regions.

The driver blew his trumpet and cracked his whip. Off they went, the wheels rattling over cobblestones and splashing through puddles. Since the load was comparatively light, the springs were stiff and gave the passengers a sharp bouncing.

Barnevelt said: "I think both Vizqash and Gavao are agents of the Sunqar crowd, with orders to get us."

"How so?" said Tangaloa.

"It all fits. The plan last night was for Gavao to dope us, and then he and Vizqash, claiming to be dear old friends of ours, would lug us out into the alley and cut our throats. When I doped Gavao instead, Vizqash didn't know what to do about it: You saw how he stood there glaring at us?"

"That sounds reasonable, Sherlock. And speaking of Si-shen…" Tangaloa switched languages and asked the expressman: "Did you tell us that the mysterious Sheafase, who rules the Sunqar, has a scaly hand with claws?"

"Even so, good my lords."

"My God!" said Barnevelt. "You actually think Sishen is Sheafase, and we slept in the same room with him? That's worse than swimming with the awal!"

"Not necessarily. That quarrel looked genuine. But suppose you'd known the two were the same, what would you have done about it?"

"Hell, I don't know—you can't erase a passing stranger on mere suspicion. It seems unlikely the real head of the Sunqar gang would prowl around incog like that Caliph in the Arabian Nights."

"We shall no doubt learn in time."

"Ayuh, though I like this job less and less. To catch a dragon in a cherry net, to trip a tigress with a gossamer, were wisdom to it."

Barnevelt offered a cigar to the expressman, who took it but said: "To smoke herein is forbidden, my masters. Therefore will I wait for a halt to clamber to the top."

Barnevelt found the smell of a lot of Krishnans in an inclosed space oppressive, something like that of a glue factory. He wished the Interplanetary Council in one of its spasms of liberal-mindedness would let knowledge of the art of soapmaking into the planet. After all, they had let in printing, which was much more revolutionary.

He was glad when they stopped at a hamlet to drop a passenger and a couple of packages. He got out, lit up, and climbed to the top along with Tangaloa and the expressman. The coach started up, again, following the railroad around the shores of Bajjai Bay, crossing creeks and embayments. At Mishdakh, at the base of the Qiribo peninsula, the road swung to the left, or east, along the northern shore of the peninsula, while the track disappeared to the right towards Shaf.

The road now began climbing to the high ground on the south side of the bay, where rocky headlands crested with small wind-warped trees overlooked leagues of choppy green water. Once the grade was so steep the male passengers had to get out and push. They wound along a hilly coast road, up and down and around stony points and prominences. The trees were bigger and more numerous than any the Earthmen had yet seen on Krishna, with trunks of glossy green and brown and purplish hues. Sometimes branches projecting over the road barely cleared their heads. The coach rocked and the wind whistled.

They had been rattling along this way for some time when a sudden onset of sounds drew their attention. Out of a clump of trees galloped a dozen armed men on ayas.

Before the passengers could react to their presence, the leading pair of the group had come up alongside the coach. On the starboard side rode the Earthmen's late train companion Gavao er-Gargan, shouting: "Halt! Halt ye on pain of death!"

On the other side came one whom Barnevelt did not recognize, a leathery-looking fellow with one antenna missing, who caught the hand holds on the sides of the coach, hoisted himself adroitly off his mount, and started to climb to the top with a knife between his teeth in the best Captain Blackbeard style.

Barnevelt, who had been daydreaming, was slow to take in the import of this visitation. He had only begun to pull himself together and reach for his sword when the iron head of Tangalo's mace came down with a crunch on the boarder's skull. A second later came a twang as the driver discharged a cross-bow-pistol at Gavao. The bolt missed the rider but struck the mount, which bleeped with pain, bucked, circled, and dashed off the road towards the rocks of the shore below.

The driver stuck his weapon back in its bracket and cracked his whip furiously, yelling: "Hao! Haoqai!"

The six animals leaned forward in their harness and pulled. Away the coach rattled, faster and faster. Behind it, the pursuers were thrown into momentary confusion by the bolting of their leader's mount. Some halted at the body of the man whose skull Tangaloa had stove, and one pulled up so quickly he fell off his aya. Then a bend hid them.

"Hold on," said the driver as they took a turn on two wheels. From the interior of the coach below came a babble from the other passengers.

Barnevelt, gripping the arm rest at the end of his seat, looked back. As the road straightened momentarily, the pursuit appeared, though they were now too far behind to recognize individuals. Stones from thirty-six hooves of the team rattled against the body of the coach. Another bend, and they were again out of sight of their attackers.

Barnevelt asked the driver: "How far to the next town?"

"About twenty hoda to Kyat," was the reply. "Here, load my arbalest!"

Barnevelt, wrestling with the crossbow-pistol, said to Tangaloa: "At this rate they'll catch us long before we get to the next town!"

"That's fair cow. What shall we do?"

Barnevelt looked at the tall trees. "Take to the timber, I guess. Grab the next branch that comes near and hope they go by without seeing us." He turned to the driver, saying:

"They want us, and if you'll slow up when told we'll relieve you of our perilous presence. But don't tell 'em where we left, understand?"

The driver grunted assent. The pursuers, nearer yet, came into sight for a few seconds. More arrows whistled; one struck home with a meaty sound. The expressman cried: "I am slain!" and fell off the coach into the road. Then the riders again were hidden.

"This one's too high," said Tangaloa, eyeing a branch.

The coach rocked and bounced along behind its straining team. The whip cracks and shouts of the driver never stopped.

Barnevelt said: "This one's too thin." -

Suddenly he had an idea. He seized their duffel-bag and hurled it as far as he could from the coach, so that it fell into a clump of shrubs that swallowed it up.

"How about the cockatoo?" said Tangaloa.

"He's below, and anyway he'd give us away by yelling. Here, this one'll do. Slow down, driver!"

The driver pulled on his brake handle; the coach slowed. Barnevelt climbed to the seat on which he had been sitting and stood precariously balanced, swaying with the motion of the vehicle. The branch came nearer and nearer.

"Now!" said Barnevelt, launching himself into space. The branch struck his arms with stinging force. Then with a grunt and a heave he was up on top of it, then standing on it and holding another to balance himself. Tangaloa was slower in struggling up. The branch sank with the weight, so that whereas it had been about level before they seized it, they now had a sharp grade up to the tree-trunk.

"Hurry, dammit," said Barnevelt, for his companion was having an awkward time keeping his footing on the slick bark. Any second the pursuit would come around the last bend, and it wouldn't do to have them teetering in plain sight.

They scrambled up to the trunk and slipped around it just as the kettledrumming of hooves and clank of scabbards told that Gavao's gang was coming up. They went past almost close enough to ^pit on, Gavao again in the lead. Barnevelt and Tangaloa held their breaths until the Krishnans were out of sight.

Tangaloa wiped his forehead with his sleeves, his face a noticeably lighter shade of brown. "Didn't know I could perform a feat like that at my age and weight. Now what? When that push catches the coach they will find out we are not aboard, and they'll be back on our hammer in no time."

"We'll have to head inland and try to lose 'em on foot."

"Let's get our dilly bag first—good God, here they come already!" For the sound of hooves had begun to rise again.

"No," said Barnevelt, peering, "it's the coach! What the devil's it coming back for?"

Tangaloa said: "It's another coach entirely. Let's catch it back to Jazmurian, what say?"

"Okay." Barnevelt swarmed down the tree and ran out into the road just as the coach came by.

The brake screeched as the vehicle slowed. The Earthmen ran alongside, caught the hand holds, and hoisted themselves up.

"Slow down just a minute!" called Barnevelt. He dropped off, ran to the side of the road to seize the duffel bag, and rejoined the coach. He tossed the bag onto the stern rack and grabbed the hand holds again.

"All aboard," he said, hauling himself to the top and panting for breath. "What's the fare to Jazmurian?"

As he accepted their money, the driver said: "By the left ear of Tyazan, ye gasted me nigh out of my breeches, leaping out like that. Had ye aught to do with the commotion back yonder?"

"What commotion?" asked Tangaloa innocently.

"I was waiting at the turnout for the eastbound coach to pass, when it came by ahead of time, racing as though Dupulan were after it. Then just as I was about to move out onto the queen's highway, along came a troop of armed men, riding like fury after the other coach. Misliking their looks, I've been driving with utmost dispatch ever since. What know ye of these?"

They assured him with nervous glances to" the rear that they knew nothing at all.

Tangaloa said: "Dirk, how are we to get to Ghulinde with these doers haunting the line?"

Barnevelt asked the driver: "Is there any shipping between Jazmurian and Ghulinde?"

"Certes. There's much haulage of falat wine to all the ports of the Sadabao Sea, for example."