The Search for Zei

CHAPTER VI

Two Krishnans were threatening Barnevelt, and others were crowding forward. Since Eileen seemed to be on the other side in this game, he could leave her with a clear conscience. One Krishnan stood directly between him and the wall; the other was boring in from his right. Barnevelt threw himself forward into a corps-d-corps, and during the instant that his antagonist's body shielded him he punched the man with his left fist, hard and low. As the Krishnan started to double up, Barnevelt shoved him out of the way and leaped to the top of the wall, just as a sweeping slash from another sword carried away his cap.

Tangaloa was already halfway down the slope and, to Barnevelt's right, several Krishnans were climbing over the wall in pursuit. Barnevelt jumped off the wall and bounded down the slope in giant strides, his heels sinking into the loose earth at each step. Ahead of him Tangaloa kept right on through the reeds that bordered the river, his boots swishing through the plants, and into the river itself.

Barnevelt knew he was too encumbered to swim well, but the Krishnans would hardly hold off while he sat down to wrestle with his boots. He threw his sword at the nearest, cast aside baldric and scabbard, and plunged in after his colleague, who was already wallowing swiftly out towards midstream like an overdressed porpoise.

WJisht-plunk! Something struck the water beside Barnevelt. A glance back showed that one of the Krishnans had picked up the bow of the man whom Tangaloa had downed with the first stone, and was shooting from the top of the wall. Eileen Foley was looking on while Vizqash ran about waving his sword and shouting orders.

Whsht-plunk! A couple of Krishnans at the edge of the water were throwing off coats, shoes, and other impedimenta.

"Duck!" Barnevelt called to Tangaloa, who immediately disappeared.

Barnevelt did likewise. Through the water the sandy bottom, little over wading depth, could be seen below. Water-plants waved gently in the current.

When Barnevelt began to yearn for air he drove himself back up to the surface, shaking his head to throw nonexistent hair out of his eyes. He glanced back. Half a dozen Krishnans, it seemed, were stripping to swim or were already splashing into the water after him. Ahead, Tangaloa's big brown head broke the surface, puffing like a grampus.

Whsht-plunk! Barnevelt took a deep breath and ducked under again. The bottom was now almost invisible, meters below. Another arrow darted down into the water near him from the quicksilvery surface above, trailing a comet-tail of bubbles. It lost speed within a meter and drifted back up to the surface where it hung, point downward, like a little buoy.

This time he came up out of effective range. However, five or six Krishnans were now swimming out from shore, plodding along with sedate breast-strokes. The current had already carried Barnevelt and Tangaloa quite a way downstream. Barnevelt had no great fear of Krishnans in the water; he was a good swimmer and Tangaloa a superb one. But…

"George!" he called. "If we let those buggers follow us to the north side, they'll get us sure."

Tangaloa spat water. "We could wait in the shallows and stoush them as they crawl out."

"Then they'll spread up and down stream, so while we're conking one the others would get to shore. How about taking care of them right here?"

"Can you swim back to the first one under water?"

"I think so."

"All right—you take number one."

Tangaloa went under in a porpoise-roll, his feet showing momentarily. Barnevelt followed suit and swam towards the nearest pursuer. Ahead of him Tangaloa barreled along, gaining fast and heading for the second.

From below the pursuers looked like headless men. Barnevelt planned how to meet his antagonist. The man had stripped down to his underwear, a kind of diaper that flapped about his loins as he swam. The hilt of the Krishnan's dagger protruded from the waistband of this garment.

Barnevelt kicked himself into position below and in front of this Krishnan and then, as his natural buoyancy wafted him upwards, drew his own dagger. He had timed his approach carefully, and as the man came overhead he brought his legs together in a scissor kick and drove his dagger into the other's belly.

At once the water became dark with blood and opaque with bubbles as the man thrashed wildly. At that instant Tangaloa seized the ankles of the second swimmer and dragged him under.

Barnevelt thrust his head out for a long breath beside the man he had stabbed. The other swimmers were all looking towards the scene with alarmed expressions. By now they had all drifted down-stream out of sight of the ruin.

The stabbed man, lying limply face-down on the surface, was beginning to slide under. Tangaloa's head bobbed up near where he had pulled the second man under, but of his victim there was no sign.

"Take the next two?" said Tangaloa.

The other Krishnans, however, all turned and splashed back for the shore whence they had come. Barnevelt and Tangaloa struck out for the north side of the river. A long swim, but they could now take their time about it. They shed their outer clothing.

"Good thing they didn't have the rowboat handy," said Barnevelt. "A rowboat's as good as a cruiser if the other guy's swimming."

"What's back of this?" said Tangaloa "The shiela seemed to be in with the push."

They swam silently until the bottom again came into sight below them, and presently they waded out and sat down on a log to rest. Their pursuers had disappeared.

Barnevelt said: "Hey, you're cut too!"

Tangaloa looked at the wound on his left arm. "A scratch; let's see yours."

Barnevelt's own wound had begun to throb painfully, and blood was still flowing since it had not had a chance to dry. Examination, however, showed that the point of the Krishnan sword had slid along a rib instead of going between the ribs into the vitals.

Tearing his shirt into strips for a bandage, Barnevelt said: "Next time maybe you'll bring a sword. You can't buckle a swash with your bare hands."

"Maybe. But if we had worn those mail-shirts, we should have drowned. I wonder what those blokes will do now? They can't go back to Novorecife, knowing we shall be along to accuse them."

Barnevelt shrugged. "Unless they've cooked up some fancy dish, to the effect that we're janru smugglers, or… Matter of fact, d'you suppose this is what happened to Igor?"

"It might be."

"Let's think about it. Meanwhile there sinks that nebulous star we call the sun, and we'd better shove before the dragon wing of night o'erspreads the earth."

"That damned energy of yours, battler," groaned Tangaloa, heaving his bulk to his feet. "Always rush, rush, rush. We Polynesians are the only people who know how to live."

The guard said: "Wait till I call the River Gate to confirm your story."

The River Gate did indeed confirm the fact that Messrs. Barnevelt and Tangaloa, alias Snyol of Pleshch and Tagde of Vyutr, had gone out through the gate the morning past, on their way to a picnic with Miss Foley of the Security Office and Mr. Vizqash of the Outfitting Store. What did these gentlemen look like?…

"Pass on in," said the guard at last. "Anybody can see you're Earthmen."

"Is it as obvious as that?" said Tangaloa to Barnevelt. "Come to think of it, one of your feelers is coming loose. Better give the barber hell."

Barnevelt replied: "I'm more interested in giving Vizqash and the fair Eileen the wholesome boon of gyve and gag."

"Oh, them? I've forgiven them already. It is rather amusing to look back upon."

"As amusing as a funeral on Christmas Eve! I'm going to Castanhoso's office."

Barnevelt marched through the settlement, ignoring stares at his half-naked state, until he came to the compound next to the spaceport where the Security Force had its offices.

He strode in the front entrance and down the hall to Castanhoso's office. The door was ajar, and he was about to stalk in when the sound of voices from within stopped him. He held up a hand to halt Tangaloa, lumbering behind.

"… we warned them," said the voice of Vizqash, "but no, they said they had not swum since leaving Earth. So they threw off their clothes and jumped in, and the next we knew one of them screamed and disappeared, and then the other did likewise."

"It was awful," said Eileen Foley's voice, quivering with pathos and sincerity.

Castanhoso could be heard clucking. "This will cause no end of trouble. These Earthmen were important people, and I liked them personally. And the forms we shall have to fill out! It is odd, though, that both should be taken—one at a time is all an awal usually seizes."

"Unless there is a pair in the Pichide," said the Krishnan.

"True, but that does not bring back those splendid…"

Barnevelt stepped into the room, saying: "I'm glad our loss isn't permanent, Senhor Herculeu. The picnic was called because of a rain—of arrows. Actually…"

Eileen Foley jumped up with a shriek like that of a Vishnuvan siren-squirrel. Vizqash leaped to his feet also with a resounding oath and ripped out his sword.

"It shall be permanent this time!" he yelled, rushing upon the two Earthmen in the doorway.

Barnevelt had a flash of panic. His dagger would be of little use against the sword; the nearest chair was out of reach; if he stepped back he would merely bump into George. He could neither run nor fight, and after preserving his life with such effort he was now liable to lose it through a trivial lack of precautions…

The point of the rapier was a bare meter away, and Barnevelt was drawing his knife as a last resort, when a pistol shot crashed deafeningly. The Krishnan's sword spun out of his hand and clattered across the room. Vizqash was left standing weaponless, wringing his hand and looking foolish.

Castanhoso rose with the pistol he had snatched from his desk drawer in his hand.

"Do not move, amigo," he said.

The hall outside was suddenly full of people, male and female, human and Krishnan, uniformed and in civilian clothing, all jabbering. Vizqash assumed the air of an insulted grandee.

"My good Castanhoso," he said, "instruct your men to treat me with due respect. After all, I am who I am."

"Precisely," snapped Castanhoso. "Lock him up."

The long Krishnan day had ended when Barnevelt and Tangaloa were finally dismissed. Castanhoso said: "Get dressed, senhores, and have dinner. I must grill the prisoners. Shall we meet in the Nova Iorque afterwards?"

"Fine," said Tangaloa, "I could utilize a bit of tucker. We never did consume that lunch."

Two and a half hours later the explorers, back in Earthly -garb and improved by a much-needed meal, were sitting in the bar. Barnevelt had suffered a delayed fright reaction from his experience, and had been on the verge of throwing up the expedition and his job. But Tangaloa had garruled cheerfully throughout dinner without giving him an opening, and now the feeling had gone. They saw Gastanhoso enter, look around, and come to their bo'oth.

"She has broken down," the Brazilian chortled.

"I hope you weren't brutal with the poor little squid," said Tangaloa.

"No, no, merely some sharp questioning under the meta-polygraph. She does not really know who this Vizqash is—if that is his real name, which I doubt—but she thinks he is one of the janru ring. Everybody suspects everybody of smuggling janru nowadays."

Barnevelt grunted assent while lighting a Krishnan cigar. Though he had always smoked cigarettes and pipes, he would have to learn to like cigars here.

"Why was Miss Foley involved?" asked Tangaloa. "Such a bonzer little sheila…"

"That is a strange story," said Castanhoso, looking at his fingernails with an expression of embarrassment. "It seems that she was—ah—in love with—uh—me, of all people, though she had plenty of admirers and knew perfectly well I was married."

"And you loathed the bright dishonor of her love?" said Barnevelt with a grin.

"It is not funny, my dear sir. This Vizqash had promised her a bottle of perfume doped with janru to use on me. All she had to do was come along on this picnic, and after you two had been disposed of, go back to Novorecife and confirm his story about the awal."

"What's that?" asked Barnevelt.

"A great snaky thing that lives in water. You can call it a giant armored eel or a legless crocodile. There has been one in the Pichide for some time. Only last week it carried off a woman of Qou."

"Guk! You mean we went swimming with that?"

"Yes. I should have warned you. After Vizqash had sent his men in pursuit of you—I suppose he did not tell them about the awal—you swam so far out you could no longer be clearly seen from shore. Then they came back, saying that two of their number and both of you had perished. I imagine they lied because they feared that if they told Vizqash the truth he would be angry and withhold their pay. But if they had told him the truth he and Miss Foley would not have rowed back to Novorecife with that story about the awal."

"What will they do with the poor little thing?" said Tangaloa.

Barnevelt said: "George, I find your sentimental solicitude for this young Lady Macbeth tiresome."

"You are merely maladjusted, Dirk. What will they do?"

Castanhoso shrugged. "That is up to Judge Keshavachan-dra. Meanwhile you had better replace your lost equipment and find another language-teacher."

They settled the details of their passage to Qirib: by boat down the river to Majbur, by rail to Jazmurian, and by stagecoach thence to fabulous Ghulinde.

"With that damned macaw making me sniffle," said Barnevelt. "And then we face the foam of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn."

"Well," said Castanhoso, "do not go swimming in them until you know what sort of swimming companions you have. Here is to your success."

"By the way," said Barnevelt, "what does Vizqash himself say?"

"I do not know yet. This will be much more difficult, because the metapolygraph will not work on Krishnans." The Brazilian looked at his watch. "I must get back to question this rascal… Yes?"

Another man in the Security-Force uniform had come in, and now whispered in Castanhoso's ear.

"Tamates!" cried Castanhoso, leaping up and clapping a hand to his head. "The unspeakable one has escaped from his cell! I am ruined!"

And he rushed out of the Nova Iorque Bar.