The Search for Zei

CHAPTER XVII

The Shambor passed another scow, a big one, piled high with harvested terpahla. The smell of the drying vine reminded Barnevelt of a cow-barn back in Chautauqua County. A man sat on the end of the scow, smoking, and idly watched the Shambor go by.

Then came the war galleys of the Morya Sunqaruma, moored in neat rows according to class. Adjacent to them, and spreading out in all directions through the mass of weeds and derelicts, were the hulks the Sunqaruma had converted into houseboats. Among these were rafts and craft made of timber salvaged from older hulls. This timber, by reason of variation in its age and origin, came in divers hues and gave such vessels a striped look.

Beyond the nearer craft, and barely visible between them, lay a complex of rafts and boats whose nature was indicated by the smoke and stench and sounds that issued from it. It was the factory where terpahla was rendered into the janru drug.

A web of gangboards and ladders interconnected the whole great mass of ships living and ships dead. On the decks of the houseboats, women moved and children played, the toddlers with ropes around their waists in case they fell overboard. The smell of cooking hung in the still air.

Barnevelt whispered to Zakloomir: "Remember, the go-ahead signal is: 'Time is passing.' "

Now there were Sunqaro ships on all sides. Barnevelt, looking sharply at them, concluded that the surest way to tell which was still capable of movement was to observe whether the vine had been allowed to grow right up to the sides of the ship or whether a space of clear water, wide enough to let oars ply without fouling, had been maintained around it. He estimated that the Sunqaruma had twenty-odd warships, not counting dinghies, supply ships, and other auxiliaries.

The Sunqaru in the stern guided the Shambor towards a group of the three largest galleys to be seen, moored side by side: ships comparable to Majbur's Junsar in size. By directing the Shambor to starboard, the pilot went around this group to where a small floating pier rested on the water beside the nearest quadrireme.

"Tie up here," said the steersman.

As the crew of the Shambor did so, the man who had piloted them jumped to the pier and ran up the gangway leading to the galley's deck to converse with the sentry there. Presently he came down again and told Barnevelt: "You and such of your men as are needed to carry yonder chest shall mount this plank to the ship's deck and there await our pleasure."

Barnevelt jerked his thumb. Four of his sailors took hold of the ends of the carrying poles along each side of the chest and straightened up with a grunt. Barnevelt, followed by the men, stepped onto the pier, Zakkomir bringing up the rear. At the gangway there was some fumbling and muttered argument among the sailors, because the structure was not wide enough for them in their present formation, and they had to crowd between the ends of the poles to make it.

On the deck of the ship they put their burden down and sat upon it. The rowers' four-man benches were empty, and the oars were stacked beneath the catwalk, but there was some sort of activity in the deckhouse forward. Presently a man wearing the insigne of a higher officer came to them and said: "Give me your letter to the High Admiral."

Barnevelt replied: "I'd be glad to, except that my orders are to deliver these things in person to Sheafase. Otherwise Queen Alvandi won't consider any reply germane, because she wants to know with whom she's dealing."

"Do you presume to give me orders?" asked the officer in an ominous tone.

"Not at all, sir. I merely repeat what she told me. If you don't want to deal on those terms—well, that's for you and her to settle. I'm neutral."

"Hm. I'll see what says High Admiral Sheafase."

"Tell him also the queen demands that I see the Princess Zei, to satisfy myself of her condition."

"You demand but little, don't you? 'Twill not astonish me if he has you thrown to the fondaqa."

"That's the chance we take in my business," said Barnevelt with ostentatious unconcern, though his heart pounded and his knees wobbled.

The officer went away, over the plank to the next galley. Barnevelt and his five companions waited. The sun, a red ball in the haze, touched the horizon and began to slide below it. Barnevelt, who had been surreptitiously shooting film, regretted its passing from a cinematic point of view (the Haya-shi being a poor performer at night) even though darkness would much improve their chances of escape.

After the sun had disappeared and Karrim, the nearest and brightest of the three moons, had risen palely in the eastern sky, the officer came back and said: "Follow me."

The sailors shouldered their burden and followed Dirk and Zakkomir across the deck and the gangplank to the next galley. Here the officer led them forward to the big deckhouse between foremast and bow. A sentry opened the cabin door to let them in.

As he passed the sentry, Barnevelt started. The man was Igor Shtain.

Although he had been half-consciously bracing himself for a meeting with Shtain, Barnevelt almost staggered at the sight of his boss, He hesitated, staring stupidly and waiting for some sign of recognition, while the others crowded up behind him.

Had Shtain genuinely joined the pirates, and if so would he denounce Dirk? Was this his method of getting into the Sunqar for professional purposes? Or had Barnevelt made a mistake?

No; there was the same wrinkled skin—its ruddiness apparent even in the twilight—the same staring blue eyes, the same close-clipped mustache the color of slightly rusted steel-wool. Shtain did not even try to pass himself off as a Krishnan by wearing false antennae on his forehead, though he had on Krishnan clothes.

Shtain, saying nothing, returned Barnevelt's gaze with a blank stare of his own.

"Ao, Master Gozzan!" said Zakkomir behind him. Dirk awoke and stepped over the raised sill of the cabin door.

Inside, lamps had been lit against the failure of the daylight. In the middle of the cabin was a plotting table, around which stood three figures. One was a tall Krishnan in a garment like a poncho: a big square of fabric with a hole in the middle for his head and a labyrinthine pattern around the edge. Another was another Krishnan, shorter and in shorts.

The third was a reptilian Osirian, much like the Sishen whom Barnevelt had met in Jazmurian. This one, apparently, had abandoned what to Osirians were the decencies of civilized life, for he wore no body paint upon his scales. Barnevelt knew him at once for Sheafase.

Barnevelt struggled to swallow, in order to lubricate his dry mouth and throat. He was frightened less of the hell that was due to break loose shortly than with the fear that, in a situation that was becoming so complicated, he might absent-mindedly overlook some obvious factor and hence bring them all to disaster.

The sailors set down the chest upon the floor. He of the poncho said in a strange dialect: "Let the sailors go out and wait upon the deck."

The officer who had led them into the cabin shut and bolted the door, then got out writing materials from a drawer in the plotting table. Barnevelt guessed this man to be some sort of aide or adjutant, while the other three Sunqaruma really ran the outfit.

"Your message." It was the dry rustling voice of the Osirian, barely intelligible.

Barnevelt plucked the queen's letter out of his jacket and handed it to Sheafase, who in turn handed it to the adjutant, saying: "Read it."

The adjutant cleared his throat and read:

From Alvandi, by the grace of the Goddess Varzai Queen of Qirib, etcetera, etcetera, to Sheafase, Chief etcetera. Astonished and chagrined are We that in a time of peace between yourselves and Us, your people should commit the wicked depredation of entering Our city of Ghulinde, robbing and slaying Our citizens, and seizing the sacred person of our daughter, the Royal Princess Zei.

Therefore We demand, on pain of Our dire displeasure, that you forthwith release the princess and either return her to Our territory by your own expedients or permit the trusty bearers of this message so to do. Further, We demand sufficient explanation of this base predacious act and satisfaction for the wrongs inflicted on Our blameless subjects. Should there however lie between us matters wherein you deem yourself offended, Our door stands ever open for the hearing of legitimate complaints. To prove that not even this felonious deed has yet exhausted the reservoir of Our good-will toward yourself, We do by these trusty couriers send a liberal gift. Their orders are: to you in person to give this message and its accompanying largesse; from you in person cogent answer to receive; and not willingly to depart from you until the princess in the body they have seen, and received assurance as to her condition.

Silence ensued for several seconds. Barnevelt felt that the queen had made herself look rather silly, starting out full of fiery indignation and demands and ending weakly with a tender of tribute and an implied promise to pay more. Yet what could the poor lady do? She was trying to beat a full house with a pair of deuces.

He stepped forward, unlocked the chest, and lifted the top. The Sunqaruma crowded around it, peered in, picked out a few pieces and held them up to the windows or the lamps to examine them more closely and ran their fingers through the coins. Barnevelt hoped they would not remark the disparity between the size of the treasure and the size of the chest. For, while the treasure was considerable both in value and weight, gold is dense, and in a chest the size of a small Earthly trunk it barely covered the bottom.

Finally Sheafase stepped back, saying: "Attention, gentlemen. Agree we not that our letter, already prepared, covers all points raised by this message?"

The Krishnan in the poncho made the affirmative head motion. The Krishnan in shorts, however, demurred.

"Sirs, 'tis my thought we have not given my proposal due consideration. The princess is the key to the wealth of the Zogha, and we shall rue the day we let this key slip through fingers trembling from overhaste…" He spoke the Qiribo dialect.

"Enough, 'Urgan," said the Osirian. " Tis also true that many a key has been broken in the lock by turning too forcefully when it did not fit. We can discuss your proposal further while awaiting the old drossel's reply."

While this dialogue had been going on, the adjutant had been taking another letter out of a drawer in a small side table. Now he handed this to Sheafase, together with writing materials. The pirate chief signed this letter, and the adjutant sealed it up and handed it to Barnevelt.

Sheafase said: "Receive our answer. In case it should be lost under the flail of fate before you can deliver it, tell Al-vandi this: That we'll keep her daughter safe from harm on two conditions. One: that the contract relevant to the sale of janru be amended by a rise in price, for the late increase in costs to compensate. And two: that she render unto us the persons of two vagabonds who now frequent her court, calling themselves Snyol of Pleshch and Tagde of Vyutr. As for releasing the princess, that's a matter wanting more consideration. The letter furnishes details."

Barnevelt heard Zakkomir at his side start as he digested this demand. Barnevelt thought: How about the famous Osirian pseudohypnosis? Sheafase might have worked it on Shtain and now want to get hold of George Tangaloa and himself to apply it to them, thus neatly ending their investigation of the Sunqar and, furthermore, making thrifty use of them by turning them into Sunqaro pirates. Or, more likely, Shtain had been subjected to the treatment before he left Earth, to make him docile.

"I think that's all…" said Sheafase.

Barnevelt spoke up. "We haven't seen the princess, sir."

"So you haven't. Who, think you, is in a position to make demands?"

"Wait," said the short Krishnan addressed as 'Urgan. " 'Tis not unreasonable, and won't hurt us. If we refuse, the harridan will think we've fed her daughter to the fondaqa, and negotiations will drag on forever while she tries to learn the truth."

He of the poncho said: "Let's decide quickly, for my dinner cools."

After a brief confab among the bosses of the Morya

Sunqaruma, the adjutant opened the door and spoke to the man on guard. Barnevelt heard the latter's footsteps going away.

"May we smoke while waiting?" asked Barnevelt.

Receiving permission, he passed his cigars around. Everybody took one except the Osirian. To help conceal his emotions, Barnevelt lit his stogie on the nearest lamp, drawing long puffs from it. Outside the twilight faded.

Footsteps approached again. The door opened, and in came Shtain, holding Zei firmly by the arm. Barnevelt thought his heart would burst through his chest, mailshirt and all. She still had on the flimsy tunic she had been wearing the night of the kashyo festival, though the coronet and other ornaments had disappeared, no doubt into Sheafase's treasury.

Barnevelt heard Zei's breath catch as she recognized the "couriers," but like a good trouper she said nothing. Barnevelt and Zakkomir each touched a knee to the floor in the perfunctory manner in which one would expect a busy expressman to pay homage to captive royalty. The adjutant briefly explained the circumstances to her.

While the time for action was fast approaching, thought Barnevelt, the presence of Shtain would complicate matters. Barnevelt couldn't very well turn to Zakkomir, standing tense beside him, and say aloud: "When the time comes, don't kill the Earthman. Just knock him cold because he's really a friend of mine."

He moved, as though from sheer restlessness, to place himself between Shtain and Zakkomir.

Shtain, looking up at his face as he passed, said: "Have I not met you elsewhere, courier?"

As Dirk's heart rose into his mouth, Shtain turned away, muttering: "Some chance resemblance, I suppose…"

Barnevelt almost laughed aloud at the sound of his chief's speaking Gozashtandou with a thick Russian accent. Phonetics was not the intrepid Igor's strong point.

"Tell my lady mother," said Zei, "that I'm sound of wind, limb, and maidenhood and have not been ill-treated, albeit the cookery of this swamp-city makes a poor showing in comparison with ours in Ghulinde."

"We hear and obey, O Princess," said Barnevelt. He scratched his person in the groin region and turned to Sheafase: "Our mission seems to be accomplished, lord, and therefore if you'll let us take aboard some drinking water we'll push off. Time is passing…"

Barnevelt had continued to scratch, and now to compound his ungentlemanly behavior he reached inside the lower edge of his shorts, at the same time taking a big drag on his cigar. His hand came out of his pants-leg grasping one of the smoke-bombs, which had been strapped to his thigh. With a quick motion he applied the fuze to his cigar until it fizzed.

Then, with the bomb still in his fist, he swung a terrific uppercut at Shtain's jaw.

The blow connected with a meaty sound, and the explorer slammed back against the wall and slid into a sitting position. Then Barnevelt tossed the bomb to the floor and reached down inside his boot for the little folding sword. Zakkomir had already whipped out his.

Barnevelt straightened his blade with a click of the latch just as the bomb went off with a swoosh, filling the room with smoke, and the remaining Sunqaruma burst into cries of warning and alarm and reached for their own weapons.

Nearest to Barnevelt, now that Shtain had been disposed of, stood the adjutant, drawing his sword. This weapon was only just out of its sheath when Barnevelt's lunge went home, the blade sliding between the ribs and going in until stopped by the hinge. Barnevelt jerked it out just in time to meet the attack of Igor Shtain, who had gotten back on his feet, coughing from the smoke and shaking his head, and now pressed forward. Although not much of a fencer, Shtain swung his cutlass with a force that threatened to break Barnevelt's little toy at every parry. Moreover he had the advantage that Barnevelt was trying not to kill him, while he labored under no such inhibition.

The short Krishnan, the one called Urgan, had been quick to reach for his hilt, but Zei seized his right wrist and hung on before he could get his blade free. He had finally thrown her off, but then Zakkomir's point had taken him in the throat. Then Zakkomir was engaged with the man in the poncho, both coughing.

Barnevelt cast a longing glance at the sword of the man he had killed, wishing he could snatch it up in place of the one he was using, but he had no chance to do so. Shtain was driving him into a corner. In desperation he threw himself into a corps-d-corps and struck with his free fist at Shtain's jaw, hoping to knock his man out. Shtain's jaw, however, seemed to be made of some granite-like substance. In fighting with Shtain, Barnevelt realized that the slight advantage he had over Krishnans, in consequence of having been brought up on a planet with a gravity about one-tenth greater, was cancelled out.

Sheafase, who alone of the males in the room was not armed, came around behind Zakkomir and seized his arms. The man with the poncho lunged. Zakkomir, though pinioned, managed to deflect the first thrust. On the remise the man in the poncho got home, but Zakkomir's mailshirt stopped the point, the blade bending upward into an arch. Sheafase tightened his grip. The man in the poncho drew back his arm and aimed for Zakkomir's undefended throat.

However, Zei had picked up a light chair that stood in a corner and now brought it down on Poncho's head. The man drooped like a wilted lily. A second blow brought him to hands and knees, and a third flattened him. Zakkomir continued to struggle to get loose from Sheafase.

Barnevelt, still straining in his corps-a-corps, pushed SKtain off balance with his shoulder. As Shtain staggered, Barnevelt got a grip around his body with his left arm and freed his blade. The silver helmet went glonk as Shtain struck it with his cutlass. Then Barnevelt brought his right fist, which still held his sword, into action. A series of punches to the ribs, the jaw, the neck, and a final blow to the head with the brass pommel brought down Shtain for good.

Barnevelt whirled and leaped to Zakkomir's assistance. From the other side Zei had already whanged the Osirian in the ribs with the chair. As Barnevelt stepped around the plotting-table, Sheafase tried to swing Zakkomir's body as a shield. But Barnevelt reached around his companion and thrust his point into the scaly hide. Not far: a centimeter or two. As Sheafase backed up with a shrill hiss, Barnevelt followed, saying: "Behave yourself, worm, or I'll kill you too."

"You cannot," said Sheafase. You are under my influence. You are getting sleepy. You shall drop your sword. I am your master. You shall obey my commands…"

Despite the impressiveness with which these statements were delivered, Barnevelt found he had no wish to obey the Osirian's commands. Zakkomir, too, now had his point in Sheafase's skin, and between them they backed him against the wall. The whole fracas had taken less than a minute.

"It's these helmets," said Barnevelt, remembering what Tangaloa had told him about Osirian pseudohypnosis. "We needn't be afraid of this lizard. Zei, open the door a crack and call my sailors."

As the sailors approached, the mao in the poncho groaned and moved.

"Kill him, Zei," said Barnevelt, a little surprised at his own ruthlessness. "Not that one—this one."

"How?"

"Pick up his sword, put the point against his neck, and push."

"But…"

"Do as I say! D'you want us all killed? That's a good girl." Zei threw the bloody sword away with a shudder. "Now," continued Barnevelt, "tie and gag the one who brought you here, the Earthman. I'll explain why later."

The four seamen stepped over the raised sill of the cabin door and halted as their eyes became accustomed to the dim light of the smoke-filled room and they took in the tableau. They chirped with surprise.

Barnevelt said: "Boys, shut the door and dump all this trash out of the chest. No, don't stop to pick up pieces! And don't let this monster look you in the eye, if you want to live."

As the chest was tilted over, the treasure slid out on the floor with a jinging crash.

Barnevelt continued: "Help the princess to tie that fellow up. Did you hear anything?"

One sailor said: "Aye, sir, we heard a sound as of voices raised, but nought that seemed to call for interference."

Zei said: "Be your purpose to carry me out in that chest?"

"Yes," said Barnevelt. "But—let me think." He hadn't planned on taking both Zei and Shtain, but he could hardly leave either without trying. He told the sailors: "Put the Earthman in the chest. Push him down as far as he'll go. Now, Zei, see if you can fit in on top of him…"

"Such vulgar intimacy with a stranger, and so unprepossessing a wight too!" she said, but climbed in nevertheless.

The lid would not go down with both, however.

Zakkomir said: "If you want the Earthman, leave him in the chest, and let the princess walk with us as though she had been ransomed. And let's escort the monster with our blades at ready, making a sweep of all three."

"Good," said Barnevelt. "Admiral, you're coming with us. You shall walk to our ship with my friend and I on either side, and at the first false move we let you have it."

"Where will you let me go?"

"Who said anything about letting you go? You shall have a voyage on my private yacht. Ready?"

The sailors picked up the chest containing Shtain. Barnevelt and Zakkomir each took Sheafase by one arm, holding their smallswords hidden behind their forearms, the points pricking the Osirian's skin. Behind them came Zei and the sailors.

The party walked aft to the gangplank that led to the next galley. They proceeded across this plank, then across the deck of the adjacent galley to the gangplank that led down to the floating pier at which the Shambor was tied up.

As they neared the latter companionway, however, heads appeared over the edge of the smaller galley, followed by the bodies of men coming up from the pier. At first Barnevelt thought they must be a party from his own. ship. However the light was still strong enough to show that they were not his men at all. A glance over the side of the quadrireme disclosed the mast of another small ship tied up to the pier next to the Shambor.

Barnevelt whispered: "Careful!" and pressed the point of his sword a little further into Sheafase's hide. He drew the Osirian to one side to let the other party pass.

The first member of the other party, going by at a distance of about two meters on the deck of the galley, started to make some sort of saluting gesture towards Sheafase—and then stopped and yelled "You!" in a rasping voice, looking straight at Barnevelt.

It was, Barnevelt saw, his old acquaintance Vizqash bad-Murani, the ex-salesman, against whose occiput he had shattered the mug in Jazmurian.

With a presence of mind that Barnevelt in calmer circumstances might have admired, Vizqash whipped out his sword and rushed. Barnevelt instinctively parried, but in doing so he loosened his grip on Sheafase, who instantly tore himself free. Zakkomir thrust at the reptile as he did so, inflicting a flesh-wound in the Osirian's side.

The other men of Vizqash's party ran in to help. The first to arrive struck at one of the sailors from the Shambor. His blade bit into the man's neck, half severing it, and the sailor fell dead. The other three dropped the chest, which landed on its side with a crash. The lid flew open and Shtain rolled out on deck.

Barnevelt parried a thrust from Vizqash, then got his point into his antagonist's thigh on the riposte.

"Run!" yelled Zakkomir.

As the wounded Vizqash fell, Barnevelt snatched a quick look around. Zakkomir was starting to drag Zei off. Sheafase was dancing out of reach and whistling orders to the Sun-qaruma, who were rushing upon the invaders. The three surviving sailors were running away; one dove over the rail. Hostile blades flickered in the twilight.

Barnevelt ran after Zakkomir and Zei, who bounded on to the gangplank leading to the big galley on which they had conferred with the pirate leaders. The three raced across the plank, then across the deck, and then across the plank to the third big galley. Feet pounded behind them.

"Hold a minute!" yelled Barnevelt as they gained the deck of the third galley. "Help me…"

He cut the ropes that belayed the end of the gangplank to the deck of the third ship. Then he and Zakkomir got their fingers under the end of the plank. A couple of Sunqaruma had already started across it from the other end, adding to the weight. With a mighty heave the two fugitives raised their end of the plank and shoved it free of the side of the ship. Down it went with a whoosh and a splash, and down went those who had started across it, with yells of dismay, into the weedy waters below.

A crossbow bolt whizzed past. Barnevelt and his companions ran to the other side of the ship they were on. Here a ladder led down the side of the ship to a scow, and from both ends of the scow a series of rafts led off into tangles of houseboats and miscellaneous craft.

"Which way?" asked Barnevelt as they gained the deck of the scow and paused, panting.

Zakkomir pointed. "That's north, the direction of that raft. You and Zei go to the next raft and crouch down out of sight, and when they come along I'll lead them in the opposite direction. Then can you and she try for our rendezvous."

"How about you?" asked Barnevelt uncomfortably. Not that he was keen to send Zakkomir off with Zei while he himself played the part of red herring, but it seemed hardly decent to let the young man sacrifice himself.

"Me? Fear not for me. I can lose them in the darkness, and under your inspiring leadership have I attained the courage of a very Qarar. Besides, my first duty's to the dynasty. Go quickly, for I hear them coming."

He pushed them, half unwilling, to the end of the scow. Unable to think of a better scheme, Barnevelt dropped down to the raft with Zei and hid under the overhang of the scow's bow.

Then sounds of pursuit increased, indicating that the Sun-qaruma had brought up another plank to replace the one thrown down. Zakkomir's footfalls receded, the cries of: "There he goes!"

"After him, knaves!" told the rest of the story.

When the noise died down, Barnevelt risked a peek over the end of the scow. People seemed to be moving in the distance, but the light was too far gone to tell much. He grasped Zei's hand and started off in the direction opposite to that which Zakkomir had taken.