The Stones of Nomuru

II – THE FESTIVAL

Keith Salazar and Kara Sheffield walked back to one of the five-meter squares the assistants had staked out along the side of the site toward the camp. Salazar blew his whistle. Then he laid a compass on the ground and, with Kara's help, marked off a one-by-two-meter rectangle, with its long axis north and south, and demarcated the area by stakes and strings.

By the time they had finished this task, Kono and Uwangi had answered the summons. Kono, his scales alight with a pattern of emerald crosses, shouldered an armload of timbers and a screen of coarse wire netting. Uwangi, gay in scarlet circles, carried shovels, buckets, and other implements. Either load could scarcely have been managed by a large, strong human being; but the Kooks bore them in their long, stringy arms without apparent effort.

Under Salazar's direction, Kono spread a tarpaulin beside the marked-off rectangle. Uwangi began assembling the timbers into a frame, which Salazar secured with nuts and bolts.

"It's one thing we can do better than the Kooks," Salazar remarked. "With only three fingers and a thumb, and claws instead of nails, they're not so handy with nuts and bolts."

When fully assembled, the framework supported the screen horizontally over the tarpaulin. The screen itself hung from four short chains hooked to eyebolts on the framework, so that it could be swung through an arc.

Salazar dismissed the Kooks and picked up an edger. He tested its semicircular blade with his thumb, then set the edge against the ground just inside the bordering strings. Planting his foot on the flange of the edger, he applied his weight and sliced into the olive-green turf. Then he moved the edger and repeated the action.

"Let me try that!" said Kara.

Salazar handed her the edger; but when she put her foot on it, she proved too light to drive it through the root-tangled turf. "At least," remarked Salazar dryly as he took back the tool, "you haven't put on weight."

"What did you think?" she retorted acidly. "That grieving over my single state, I'd gorge until I swelled like a balloon?"

"No, of course not—"

"After all, I might want to catch another husband some day."

"Well—all—of course, if ..."

"If I gained a kilo, all I'd have to do is to pedal out here to sweat it off."

With a grunt, Salazar dug in the edger. "Be glad to have you, any old time."

She smiled warily. "If by 'have' you mean you would put me up, I'll be glad to come whenever my job demands it."

"Now who's evil-minded?" said Salazar with a grin.

When the rectangle had been outlined by cuts, they spent the rest of the day grubbing up vegetation and piling it on the tarpaulin. The three assistants finished their survey and started to clear another test pit. At quitting time, Kara stretched and yawned.

"I'll have some mighty stiff muscles," she said, "But I won't have any problems sleeping tonight."

Kara and Salazar exchanged a pregnant glance. He said: "At least not if—" He bit off the half-formed double-entendre when he noticed three pairs of youthful eyeballs swiveling in his direction. The kids, he thought, are eaten with curiosity about our relationship. Let 'em guess! He resolved thenceforth to handle his guest with reticent courtesy, nothing more. That seemed to be her desire anyway.

The following day saw the clearing of more test pits. In the afternoon, Kara said: "Keith, couldn't you do a little actual digging, to help me with my article?"

"Guess so, if we don't go below the surface layer." Salazar raised his voice: "Hey, kids! Will you come here, please?" He turned back. "We divide the preliminary excavation into arbitrary ten-centimeter strata, called from the top down: Surface, A, B, C, and so on. Ito, Marcel, take shovels. Galina, show Miss Sheffield how to work the screen. I'll do the bagging."

Kurita and Frappot began to fill a bucket with freshly-dug earth, which Kurita dumped on the screen. Galina Bartch vigorously rocked the screen, so that brown soil cascaded through the meshes. Presently there were only stones, lumps, and clods spread out across the screen. Galina stirred these with her gloved hands, crushing the clods, until all that remained unsieved was a mass of pebbles and fragments.

"What did we get?" asked Salazar.

Galina held up a piece of rust-red brick. "Shongo work?"

"Probably. Put it here." Salazar spread the mouth of a cloth bag, to which was attached a tag reading: TEST PIT 1, SURFACE.

"Here's something," said Galina, holding up another fingernail-sized fragment in azure and gold. Salazar said:

"Porcelain, glazed. That means it's not Shongo; their technology declined from the days of the Nomoruvian Empire until their recent burst of industrialization. It could be trade goods from the Shongo period, or a piece of old Nomoruvian work grubbed up and redeposited." He held the bag open. "Lend Kara your gloves, Galina."

So it continued for an hour, with Kara sharing the job with Galina. Then Salazar applied his tape to the pit "Ten centimeters," he said. "Let's take this one down another ten, after I scrape it."

Salazar squatted in the shallow excavation and, with sweeping semicircular strokes of his sharpened trowel, began to shave thin slices of brown earth from the high spots along the edge.

"What are all those dark spots?" asked Kara.

"Burrows of worms and other organisms—that is, the Kukulcanian equivalents—which have filled in again," said Salazar. "This dark area might be a burial, but there's no sign of remains yet. Or it might be a post-Nomoruvian trash pit. When you hit something like this but don't know what it is, you call it a 'feature.' "

"No golden idols?" said Kara.

"Kara! You of all people know better than that!"

"Sorry. I was only teasing."

Salazar continued: "That's like joking about bombs at the spaceport. It's the worst thing that could happen. As soon as the rumor got out, half of Henderson would be here with picks and shovels to dig up the site and ruin the stratigraphy. Next thing, there'd be a fed among rich bastards like Bergen to stick ancient Kookish artifacts on their mantlepieces, so that without exact records of discovery, every such object's scientific value would be destroyed. Get some pictures, Galina."

With her tiny camera, the girl took several shots of the now smooth-bottomed excavation. Digging and sieving resumed. More objects came to light and were meticulously placed in another labeled sack. There was half of a broken, rusted iron door key. There were bits of brick, worked stone, glass, copper, and pottery. Frappot exclaimed:

"Aha, Keith! I think we have a remain."

He held up a length of pearl-gray bone. Salazar fingered the piece, saying: "Part of the leg of a domestic tisai, I think. Liu will have to look it over to make sure; and he'll run a sample through the AMS to give us a date—"

"Through the what?" Kara broke in.

"Sorry; the accelerator mass spectrometer. Sometime I'll explain how it works. This bone was cut in two, as with a cleaver, and these nicks were made with the same sort of tool. Evidently from a Kookish butcher shop. This might be the site of such a shop, or again the bone might be from someone's family dinner, or even from a Shongo picnic. I shouldn't expect much Shongo stuff at this level, unless—"

Salazar broke off and straightened up, staring at the far end of the site. There, three Kooks on three copper-scaled jutens paused as they emerged from the scrubby timber beyond. Kara and the assistants rose, looking askance at the newcomers.

"Damn!" muttered Salazar. "Choshas again! That guy we saw yesterday must have gone for reinforcements. Get down, all of you! Take cover!"

"What cover?" asked Frappot. "With all the bushes cleared away ..."

"Lie down in the test pit!"

"But there is not enough room ..."

Salazar threw himself prone between the test pit and the newcomers, who sat their mounts and stared. Craning his neck to observe four human beings trying to fit themselves into a depression only big enough for two, the archaeologist barked:

"Marcel! Go fetch the rifle! Bend low as you run!"

He pointed to the pile of gear at the edge of the field, against which his rifle leaned. As Frappot started on his way, Salazar eased his pistol from its holster.

One of the strange Kooks set its mount into motion. The thump-thump of the juten's bipedal gait resounded across the clearing as it trotted towards the same pile of gear. Salazar thought: That nomad's after my gun. As its mount ran, the Kook rider drew out a firearm, a massive object like a Terran horse pistol of the powdered-wig era. The Kook cocked and raised the weapon, taking aim at the running graduate student.

Since the invader was too distant to be picked off with a pistol while on the move, save for a fantastically lucky shot, Salazar aimed just ahead of the running juten and, as the animal's body came into his sights, squeezed the trigger. The juten pitched forward on its beaked head; its rider flew out of the saddle and turned a somersault as it struck the ground.

The Kook staggered to its feet and peered about. The lance in its saddle boot was broken; but the native found the pistol where it had fallen. It hastily aimed the firearm at Salazar and pulled the trigger. The weapon failed to fire. Knocked the priming out of the pan, thought Salazar.

The Kook set out on foot for Salazar, holding its pistol by the barrel and bounding from side to side. Salazar fired at this difficult target and missed. He fired and missed once more. Beside the pile of gear, Marcel Frappot stood holding the rifle. The youth dared not shoot, since Salazar was in the same line of fire as the Kook.

Salazar fired a third shot. The Kook staggered and squawked. The shot had grazed but not seriously wounded the attacker. Then it hurled itself at the archaeologist, swinging the big flintlock pistol like a hammer at the gun in Salazar's right hand. The butt struck Salazar's barrel and sent his weapon spinning away.

The Kook swung its pistol over its head, aiming it at the Terran's skull. Salazar snatched from his boot the sharpened trowel, stepped quickly inside the Kook's swing, and drove the trowel into the native's painted belly.

The beaked mouth opened in a screech as the Kook clapped a clawed hand over the wound. Another blow with the pistol butt sent Salazar's tropical helmet flying, while Salazar, gripping the trowel in both hands, stabbed again and again. On the fourth stab, the Kook sank, bleeding profusely and gasping incoherent sounds in its own raucous tongue.

"Marcel!" Salazar called. "Cover the others!"

As Frappot sighted along the rifle barrel with his finger on the trigger, the two remaining Kooks turned their mounts and jounced away into the brush. Kara, Galina, and Ito climbed out of the test pit, slapping dirt from their hair and clothes and asking questions.

"Keith!" exclaimed Kara. "Thank goodness you're alive! I thought for a second I saw your head bouncing away, but it was only your hat."

"No credit to me," growled Salazar, picking up his helmet. "Must be losing my grip, missing easy shots like that."

"And me," said Frappot, "I dared not shoot with you in line with this one."

"Who is it who tried to kill you, Professor?" asked Ito.

"A Kampairin," said Salazar, studying the painted gold-and-scarlet symbols on the Kook's scales.

"Isn't that a nomad tribe?" asked Galina.

"Yep; one of old Kampai's boys."

"Are we likely to see more of them?" asked Frappot, as if eager for another chance to show his mettle. His face was flushed.

"Can't tell yet," said Salazar. "This is pretty far outside their normal range. Let's get on with the job."

During the evening at camp, Kara said, "I know dirt archaeology includes a lot of tedious drudgery, but—"

"Any profession does, when you get into it," Salazar interjected.

"I wanted to ask, don't you expect to find anything more exciting than little bits of glass and brick and stone? No golden idols, of course; but something I could at least take a publishable picture of."

Salazar shrugged. "We might come on a statue, or a mosaic, or a cache of copper utensils. No way of telling except to dig. What I dream of finding but probably shan't is King Bembogu's fabled library. If I did, you can bet your ballet slippers I'd keep mum about it until I got the stuff out, or the looters and souvenir hunters might beat me to it."

"Was Bembogu that last ruler of Nomoruvia you were telling me about?"

"Yep. Our information about him comes from much later documents and is partly fictionalized; but he's supposed to have been a scholarly king who amassed a library of 4,096 scrolls."

"That's a peculiar number."

"It's the square of sixty-four. Since their number system has a base of eight, it's their equivalent of ten thousand."

"What happened to him?"

"A barbarian invasion caught him without his body paint on; he'd neglected the army in order to raise his subjects' standard of living; so he was routed and slain and the city was sacked. Seems to have been one of those unfortunate rulers who were too humane and enlightened for their own good. It shows what happens when you try to make woolly-minded academics like me into kings or generals."

"Rubbish, Keith! You'd make a fine king or general."

Salazar grinned. "Thanks, but I think I know my limitations. Anyway, there's not the remotest chance of my being asked to fill either role."

As Salazar and Kara pedaled along the main street of Neruu, the industrial center of the Shongo nation, the sky was dark with the smoke of a hundred chimneys and the air was clangorous with hammering, sawing, and the whir and clatter of machine tools. Forges glowed redly through open doorways in the plain, boxlike stone buildings.

A few Kooks passed the Terrans, their scales painted with a multitude of symbols in a rainbow of colors. One could read from these symbols a Kook's age, sex, clan, caste, marital status, occupation, and achievements, but to master the complex system required years of study. To his regret, Salazar had only a rudimentary grasp of it.

Beaked heads turned as the Terrans rolled past; but there was no rush to crowd around the aliens. The Kooks gave each a cursory stare, then went incuriously about their business.

"Their industrial development is oddly unbalanced by our standards," Salazar explained. "Excellent timepieces but no electrical equipment; steam engines and vehicles but no flying machines. Somebody once made a steam-powered dirigible airship, but it blew up. Without petroleum, I suppose they have no way to get started in aeronautics. They make good masonry, pottery, and glassware; but their only cloth is crude stuff for things like tents and curtains. Not wearing clothes, they haven't had the motive to develop high-grade textiles."

"I wonder why they haven't begun to copy our advanced weapons?"

"It's their ultra-conservatism. They invented the muzzle-loading musket a couple of thousand years ago; but they've only just begun to rifle the barrels. They haven't started on breechloaders and repeaters, though they've known about Terran guns for a century."

"Just as well for them. Where's this ceremony?"

"At the athletic field outside the town."

"I thought they had no games or sports?"

"They don't; but they're enthusiasts for athletic drills, if you can call them enthusiastic about anything."

"They sound like bores."

Salazar chuckled. "Their social events make a meeting of the Maravilla Society seem interesting. They're easier to respect than to love. They're cold, rigid, formalistic, and hidebound; but for us that has advantages. Kooks are pretty honest and trustworthy; you can rely more on a Kook's word than on a Terran's. They betray their emotions by moving those bristles on their necks. Since it's an unconscious reaction, which they can't seem to control, each Kook carries a built-in he detector.

The exercise ground was about the size of an American football field, enclosed on three sides by a fence, towards which crowds of Kukulcanians were converging. Salazar said:

"If we move right lively, we can grab places yonder."

They leaned their bicycles against an unoccupied section of fence as more Kooks clustered beside and behind them. The rasping sounds of Kukulcanian speech assailed their ears, and the peculiar fishy smell of Kooks invaded their nostrils. At the base of the square-bottomed U outlined by the fence, a separate little crowd of natives clustered, jabbering and gesticulating. Kara asked:

"Which are those?"

"The loving couples," said Salazar, "about to consummate their union. There are also some couples already mated who haven't succeeded in begetting offspring."

"How do they feed their young? I don't see mammalian characteristics."

Salazar found himself staring at Kara's mammalian characteristics. When she noticed, he averted his gaze. "The primitive tribes regurgitate, like Terran birds that feed their young in the nest."

"Ugh!"

Salazar smiled. "Other species, other customs. These urbanized folk think that custom barbarous, too; they mince and mash the food and spoon-feed their little ones. Some of their physicians condemn this practice as nutritionally unsound. They call for a return to regurgitation, which they say gives the Kooklets some needed enzyme."

"How did they hit on this strange custom?" She nodded toward the clump of Kukulcanians inside the fence.

"Maybe a relic of primitive times, when any male could have any female he could catch. Now the females make sure their chosen mates catch them. It's a puzzle, because Kooks seems to have a strong pair bond—stronger than ours."

"I see what you mean," said Kara with an edge in her voice.

Salazar gulped at the unfortunate allusion to their felled marriage. "Anyway, they—ah—Cabot Firestone thinks this pair bond may be mostly imposed by their culture. Since they're born lawyers who worship precedent, they maintain customs and ceremonies going back hundreds of thousands of years."

"How do you archaeologists know what their customs were so long ago?"

"Because their written records go back more than ten times as far as ours. For instance, it was a major revolution for them to give up trial by ordeal, about thirty thousand years ago."

"You mean like those medieval trials where they threw you in the river and judged you innocent if you drowned?"

"Yep. Had a picturesque kind of ordeal. They tied you to a—" Salazar glanced away and stiffened. "Quick, down on one knee!"

"What's up?"

"High Chief Miyage is here. He doesn't like me, so be careful. Down!"

The two Terrans knelt, along with the mass of natives, as a small group of Kukulcanians strode through the squatting crowd. One, whose hide was painted in brilliant patterns of scarlet, gold, and azure, wore a golden disk the size of a hand suspended from his neck by a golden chain. With his big golden eyes fixed on Salazar, he strode purposefully towards the archaeologist, croaking:

"Hail, honorable Sarasara!"

"Hail to your Highness!" said Salazar.

"Is all well with your clan?"

"All is well with my clan. Is all well with your Highness's clan?"

"Thanks to the Universal Law, all is well. You may rise, and also the alien with you. We have pondered your excavation of the ruins of Nomuru. We do not wish this to continue, at least for the present."

The words struck Salazar like a blow in the solar plexus. He pulled himself together enough to say: "May I ask your Highness why not?"

"Certain of your fellow aliens have approached us, offering to lease the area. They wish to change the land to attract others of their kind, to perform whatever sinister rites you creatures indulge in. We are negotiating, and we do not wish our proceedings disturbed by your activities."

"Sir, may I ask who these Terrans are?"

"You may not. When and if agreement is reached, these details will become public."

The High Chief began to turn away. Remembering what Dr. Samuel Johnson had said, that when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully, Salazar called:

"A moment, Your Highness!"

"Aye?" said the Kook chieftain.

"Permit me to say that, if my excavations continue, they may reveal matters that, in the long run, will prove of more advantage to your federated tribes than any plan of my fellow Terrans to turn the area into a resort."

"How so?"

"Your Highness knows that for centuries, Nomuru was a great and famous capital."

"Aye, but what of that?"

"On my own world, several nations make much of their income from relics of ancient times. People come from afar to see them and freely spend money in the nations displaying these relics."

"We do not understand why anyone should go far from home to see old stones and bricks."

Salazar: "I assure Your Highness that such is the case, and I wager that the same will come to pass here, since your people so revere tradition. The site, when excavated and tidied up, will attract countless visitors, both Terran and of your land."

"What do you wish of us, O Sarasara?"

"To permit me and my crew to continue our digging, at least until these developers actually begin work at the site."

"Very well, for the time being. We shall consult our council and inform you of our final decision. May you lead a tranquil—"

"One thing more, Your Highness. We have had trouble with stray Choshas." He told of the death of the Kampairin raider. "If you will send your people to Nomuru, they will find the body beneath a tarpaulin on the edge of the field."

The Kook's neck spines rippled in a way that corresponded to a Terran's frown. "That is significant, Sarasara; it is meritorious of you to bring the matter to our attention. The Kampairin are forbidden by treaty to come within thirty-two itikron of that place. We shall have our subordinates investigate and send a stern warning to Chief Kampai. May you lead a tranquil life!"

"May Your Highness's life also be tranquil."

"May no obstacles spring up in your path."

"May Your Highness overcome any obstacles that arise ..."

The High Chief disappeared into the crowd. Kara asked: "What has Miyage got against you? He seemed polite enough."

"He used the grammatical forms proper to an inferior. As to our mutual dislike, he had a dispute with the Empress. Hey, it's show time!"

At the end of the field where the couples assembled, the rite took shape. An elderly Kook, distinguished by a ribbon about his neck, mounted a stand and embarked upon a rhythmic speech. When he had finished, High Chief Miyage took his place and began an even longer speech. Kara said:

"It sounds as if they were speaking in verse."

"They are," said Salazar, "with end rhymes and all.

"I once got out of a ticklish fix by reciting Macaulay's Horatius—or as much of it as I could remember.

They couldn't understand the words, but it convinced them that the Terrans could be cultured beings. Now comes the grand coitus."

Pushing and shouting, the nuptial pairs, gay in their emerald-and-white wedding paint, lined up. The females stood in the first line; the males, distinguished by the small crest of spines on their heads, formed a second line behind them.

An assistant handed High Chief Miyage a double-barreled musket with gold-chased barrels sparkling in the sunshine. The High Chief cocked one hammer, aimed at the azure sky, and pulled one trigger. The musket vomited a puff of gray smoke. At once the female Kooks set off at a run towards the un-fenced end of the field.

The chief then cocked and fired the second barrel. The bridegrooms pelted away in determined pursuit. Salazar muttered:

"The girls won't run hard enough to escape."

The runners passed the ends of the fence and continued out into open country. By the time distance shrank their figures, every female runner had been caught by, or let herself be caught by, the male who had been posted behind her. The Terrans could not clearly see because of the churning clouds of dust; but the females seemed to have dropped to hands and knees, while the males approached them from behind.

"Isn't that how Terran birds do it?" asked Kara. "I've seen Conrad's chickens in action."

"Yep. Like birds, they don't waste any time, either," he added, as the couples began to straggle back to the field.

"What next?" asked Kara.

"More speeches. All the couples deliver their own remarks."

"They seem a long-winded race."

"Yep. Oratory is their main art form. Their painting, sculpture, and music are nothing much; but their poetry, drama, and rhetoric are highly developed. A Kookish Michelangelo once made an eight-day nonstop speech."

"All in verse? Wow! I've only heard speeches that felt as if they'd been going for eight days. Since I can't understand their croak, do you think we could start back?"

"Yep. Come along." Salazar wheeled his bicycle away from the fence, carefully threading his way among the crowding Kooks. He had a foot on a pedal when a shout brought him round.

"Hey, Salazar!" roared the black-browed Conrad Bergen, emerging from the native crowd and followed by the rest of his hunting party. "What are you—by God, you've got my bitch! I'll-—"

Kara gave a small scream as Bergen started toward her, fists swinging. Salazar thrust his bicycle in front of the red-faced, wrathful man; the two antagonists and the bicycle collapsed in a tangle. After they had sorted themselves out and risen, Bergen aimed a furious swing at the archaeologist. Salazar ducked and landed a punch on Bergen's nose; but a second later another swing caught him on the side of the head and sent him sprawling.

"I'll teach you to steal my dame!" screamed Bergen, kicking his recumbent foe in the ribs. Despite the pain that shot through him, Salazar caught Bergen's booted ankle in both hands. A heave toppled the bulky Bergen, who fell with a thud that shook the trampled earth. As Salazar, slowed by the pain in his side, rose more slowly to his feet, he saw Bergen do likewise. Almost at once, a multitude of scaly talons seized upon both, and the black eyes of musket muzzles stared them in the face.

"What is this?" croaked High Chief Miyage. "These animals dare to defile our ancient ceremony? Prepare them for execution!" The forked tongue flicked out.

Scaly hands relieved Salazar and Bergen of their pistols. Bergen asked: "What's he say?"

When Salazar had translated, Bergen cried: "Hey! Do they mean that?"

"Sure."

"But—can they really do that? We're humans!"

"Who's going to stop them? Here they are the human beings; we are just monsters from outer space."

"What will they do? Shoot us?"

"They might. Beheading is their favorite method."

Chief Sambyaku squatted a curtsy to his tribal superior. To the Kooks holding Salazar and Bergen he said: "Do nothing before you receive additional commands. " The two chiefs moved away in earnest speech.

Bergen, his arms and legs firmly gripped in Kookish talons, glared at Salazar. Though stunned by the rush of events, Salazar pulled himself together, saying with professional calm:

"I said you had a medical problem. Now, unless Sambyaku can talk Miyage out of it, you'll soon learn how long a head stays conscious after it's cut off. I've always wondered if one sees the ground rushing up at one."

"If that's a joke, you've got a gruesome sense of humor," grated Bergen. "What good would knowing that do you? You couldn't write a book about it afterward."

"That does rather dampen the pleasure of discovery."

"It's all your fault! If you hadn't meddled in my affairs ..."

"I never meddled," snapped Salazar. "I was going to Neruu, and the lady asked to come along. Your relations with—"

"Son of a bitch!" screamed Bergen. "When I get loose, I'll beat you into a glob of jelly!"

"Without your head, you might have trouble finding me," said Salazar.

The two chiefs reappeared, and High Chief Miyage said: "Our loyal vassal Sambyaku has persuaded us that it were but fair to give you aliens a chance to fight for your lives. O Justiciar Kanini!"

"Aye, Your Highness?" said the aged, beribboned Kook whose speech had preceded the High Chiefs oration.

"What says the law anent the interruption of a sacred rite by aliens from other worlds?"

From one of his pouches, Kanini produced a Kukulcanian book, a scroll mounted in a small glass-fronted frame. This frame was equipped with two little cranks, whereby the tawny scroll of native paper could be unrolled from one spindle and rolled up on the other. Kanini turned one of the cranks, scrutinizing the lines of print. Kara had disappeared.

At last the aged legalist croaked: "May it please Your Highness, there is no precise provision for such a case. Since aliens have been coming to this world for less than two octoquadrates, too few cases have accumulated to furnish precedents.

"The likeliest precedent I can find," continued Kanini, "goes back to the days of barbarism, many octoquadrates ago. When a domestic beast had injured or slain its owner, it was turned loose to be attacked by a beast of prey. If it defeated its attacker, it was pardoned. Since these aliens are lower animals, I propose that we release them in the field with a porondu from the town menagerie. The contest will provide an unexpected climax to the ceremony and impart an edifying moral lesson to the onlookers as well."

"A worthy thought," said High Chief Miyage.

"A moment, sire!" said Chief Sambyaku. "Does Your Highness propose that they fight the porondu with bare hands? Such a contest would be too one-sided either to let the aliens redeem their fives or to impart a moral lesson."

"There is something in what you say," mused High Chief Miyage. "We cannot lend them guns, for they would simply slay the beast, or even aim at us! Ah! Let a pair of spears be fetched from the town museum, one for each alien!"

An hour passed while Salazar and Bergen, their wrists and ankles bound with thongs, sat on the ground beneath the vigilant gaze of two musket-armed guards. Bergen roared and cursed, making wild threats and accusations against Salazar. The latter sat mutely until Bergen, too, subsided into sullen silence. From afar came the droning, rhythmic croak of Kookish speech.

"Like a roost of goddam crows," muttered Bergen.

When Kara Sheffield and the three remaining men of Bergen's party approached the captives, the guards warily shifted their guns. Chung, in the lead, broke the news.

"I have tried to convince the High Chief that he should release you two; but when Kooks make up their minds ..." Chung shrugged. "It is like those laws of the Pedes and Mersians. At least, he agreed not to molest the rest of us. I am sorry."

"Oh, Keith!" wailed Kara. "How I wish I hadn't insisted on coming here!"

"Don't blame yourself," said Salazar. "You couldn't have foreseen this."

Bergen growled at his guide: "What'll you do if this creature kills me?"

"Return to Suvarov," said Chung with a deprecatory shrug. "I do not think your friends will wish to continue the hunt."

"And if we survive—at least, if I do? I'd still want my hunt."

Chung ducked a bow. "In that case, Mr. Bergen, you must find another guide. I fear that travel with one of your ebullient temperament is dangerous to my health."

"Hey, you've got a contract with me!"

The guide gave a pro forma smile. "It permits me to withdraw for reasons of health. Fear not; I shall send a replacement, my cousin Ma Qiali—Charley Ma, you could call him."

"When will he get here?"

"Perhaps in a sixtnight. He must come from Gueilin."

"Hell! Am I supposed to sit on my duff—" The two chiefs, surrounded by eight Kooks, crossed the turf with dignified stride. At their command, scaly hands loosened the captives' bonds, hauled the apprehensive prisoners to their feet, and hustled them back to the now-empty enclosure. Salazar and Bergen were each handed a long spear with a tapering steel head lightly spotted with brownish oxide.

As their escort retired, Salazar and Bergen faced their foe, one of the major predators of the planet Kukulcan. The dinosaurlike porondu stood a few meters off, with four Kooks holding its leashes. Much larger than the domesticated juten, which it otherwise resembled, its huge beak was carried over two meters above the ground. Its body scales were brown splashed with acrid yellow, and its arms, the size of a man's, ended in sharp-clawed talons.

"Professor!" muttered Bergen. "Looks like we've got to be allies, like it or not."

"Yep," said Salazar. "Let's keep three meters apart. When it goes after one of us, the other should try to spear it under the arm."

"Here it comes!"

The handlers simultaneously cast off their leashes and dashed for the gate, which they quickly latched behind them. With a raucous scream, the porondu lumbered towards Salazar, who gripped his spear and lunged for the creature's breast. The point was stopped by a bone.

Before Salazar could withdraw his weapon, the porondu seized the shaft in its saw-toothed beak and snapped it with a powerful jerk of its head. The archaeologist found that he held a meter of shaft without a steel spearhead. The porondu raised its head, opening its beak to show the teeth within.

Bergen ran forward and thrust his spear into the creature's side. With a shriek, the porondu wheeled, swung its head low, and smote Bergen in the ribs. The blow hurled the huge executive sideways. He fell, rolled over, and tried to sit up, but the breath had been knocked out of him. As he lay coughing and gasping, the porondu squatted down on his legs, pinning him to the ground. The porondu, which Salazar realized must weigh at least half a ton, opened its raptorial beak, then hesitated as if pondering which part of Bergen to tear off first.

Half-disarmed, Salazar did the only thing he could think of. He ran behind the squatting porondu, leaped to its back, and slid into a sitting position behind its arms.

"Get up!" he yelled in Shongo, bearing the animal over the head with the shaft of his broken spear. The porondu lurched to its feet and tried to crane its neck around to the left to seize its tormentor. Salazar whacked the beak as it approached. When it swung its head, as large as that of a horse, around to the right, the archaeologist struck it on the other side.

The porondu danced about, trying to shake off its rider; but Salazar seized one of the small arms near its base and clung precariously to his perch, wishing for a proper saddle. The beast reached back with its free arm, trying to claw the archaeologist off its back. Salazar's bush jacket ripped at the shoulder, and he felt the sting of a deep scratch on his arm but pounded the groping member until it gave up trying to seize him.

The porondu then set off at a jouncing run for the open end of the field. Soon the enclosure and the chimneys of Neruu disappeared behind a roll in the ground.

Still clutching the arm, Salazar gripped the scaly torso with his legs as best he could, wondering if the beast would run clear to the Western Ocean, thousands of kilometers away. After a kilometer, however, the monster slowed.

When at last it halted, Salazar wondered what to do next. If he slid off, he would be devoured on the spot. Although the creature had tired, it could still outrun a man on those long, ostrichlike legs.

At last Salazar shouted: "Back to Neruu, you!" and hit the porondu on the side of its head. As it shied away from the blows, it gradually turned around. Relieved, Salazar whacked its rump until it lurched into motion.

A quarter-hour later, Salazar guided his unruly mount into Neruu's athletic field. Every time it tried to turn away or to peck at its rider, Salazar yelled and struck it. When the pair were within the enclosure, he called out in Shongo:

"You, in charge of the beast! Come and get it!"

The handlers ran out, secured their leashes, and led the cowed monster away, its two slight wounds still oozing crimson blood. Salazar slid off the tail and fell in a heap. The porondu's wide body had spread his legs so far apart that now his hip joints ached and he could barely stand. Bergen helped him to his feet, saying:

"You okay, Professor?"

"Still sore where you kicked me."

"Sorry about that, but you know how it is in a fight. I'm land of battered myself, where that thing butted me in the ribs. What was it the old Kook with the ribbon said that I couldn't understand? Oh, here he comes!"

The aged justiciar assumed a formal stance before the Terrans and intoned: "His Highness has decreed that you twain have earned acquittal of all charges. You shall go free, on condition that you do the High Chief a small favor."

"What is that?" said Salazar.

"He knows that you aliens must have some ceremony corresponding to our Intromission Day. He wishes to observe it."

"What's he say?" demanded Bergen.

Salazar translated, adding: "I could give him a song and dance about our very different customs; but to keep our heads in place, I'd better offer him something."

"Jesus!" said Bergen. "I can't ask my people to demonstrate for him. I could give him a card to Erika's Place in Suvarov. You know it?"

"I've heard about it," said Salazar. "It wouldn't do. He might want to take part in the activities, and that's impossible. He would injure the girl terribly."

"Well then, I'll get him a table at Nasr's Club. His floor shows run right up to the whole bit; I've warned Nasr to clean up his act or lose his lease. But for this one time ..."

Salazar conveyed the promise to Kanini, who nodded and marched off. Bergen exulted: "Say, that was a close call! Where'd you get the idea of jumping on the creature's back?"

"I read adventure stories as a kid," said Salazar. "Where are our people?"

"There!" Bergen pointed to a knot of worried-looking Terrans pressed against the fence.

The justiciar came back with two Kooks, who ceremoniously returned the men's pistols to them. Salazar looked ruefully down at himself. His jacket was tattered from the porondu's claws; his half-bared torso bled from several deep, stinging scratches, while every joint and muscle throbbed like a toothache.

"You okay to walk?" asked Bergen. "We've got to figure out what to do next."

"We!" said Salazar. "If you're going to fly off the handle any minute and start slugging, we—Miss Sheffield and I—intend to get the hell away and stay there."

"Aw, don't worry! We saved each other's lives; that ought to cancel out any grudges. What say?" Bergen thrust out a hairy paw.

"Very well," said Salazar without enthusiasm, taking the proffered hand. "What are you doing here? I thought you were bound for Kinyobi Valley."

"Chung told us about this Intromission Day ceremony, and we wanted a look at it," said Bergen with a naughty-boy grin. "What's intromission, anyway?"

"Literally, insertion; also used as a synonym for copulation."

"Oh, you mean fucking!"

As the crowd of Kooks streamed back into Neruu, Salazar and Bergen rejoined a white-faced Kara clutching her bicycle, and a subdued pair of Bergen's hunting companions guarding Salazar's bike.

"Keith!" cried Kara. "Are you all right?"

"Feel as if I'd just lost a theological argument with the Chief Inquisitor," said Salazar, "but I'm still ambulatory."

"I'd like you to meet Conrad's friends, Derek Travers and Oleg Pokrovskii. Dr. Keith Salazar, the archaeologist."

"I remember you from bridge," said the bearlike Pokrovskii. "You hero! Like Sviatogor in old Russian myth, riding de wild monster."

"Me? Shucks. I just couldn't think what else to do."

Pokrovskii chuckled. "Is old proverb, every dog have wolf inside, trying to get out."

Bergen asked: "Where's Chung?"

Travers answered: "He took off as soon as he saw you were safe. Said he'd send his substitute."

"Slant-eyed son of a bitch!" growled Bergen.

"Well," said Travers, "you did bully and bellow at the little chap. I'm surprised he stuck as long as he did."

"Let me handle the help, Derek. What the hell do we do meanwhile? No one can really talk to the Kooks, though Derek knows a few words. Except ..." He swiveled around and stared from narrowed eyes at Salazar. "Except you, Professor. You speak their bone-in-the-throat language and know the country. How'd you like a temporary job as guide, to fill in until this guy Ma arrives?"

"Nope," said Salazar. "Why not?"

"Not my line, and I've got my own work."

"Look. Chung said the Kooks go vacationing after this grand screwarama. So there won't be any around to dig for you. I'll make it well-worth your while. You big-brains are never paid what you should be, because your minds are all clogged up with theories. So you can use some extra cash, and from what I saw today you'd be a good man to have on our side in a pinch. What would you ask?"

"Don't like killing things for fun."

"Oh, one of those! Just show us the way and talk to the Kooks, and we'll do the killing. With the whole planet swarming with animals, we're not endangering any species." Bergen paused. "Five hundred a day?"

Salazar hesitated. The sum equaled the whole daily allowance from his appropriation, including his own modest compensation. "Well—ah—"

"Six hundred," said Bergen. "No more, though."

Salazar took a deep breath. "Okay, but I won't let anyone push me around."

"Fine," said Bergen. "Ask the Kooks where we can camp tonight. It's too late to start for the valley."

"First I shall have to take Miss Sheffield back to my camp, to leave her in charge of my students."

"Oh, bring her with us!" said Bergen. "She'll get a story out of it."

"Good idea," said Kara. "How—"

Salazar interrupted: "Good Lord! I'll have enough to handle without the emotional explosions of a once-engaged couple. Forget it; I wouldn't touch the job."

"Not to worry," said Bergen. "Kara and I will act like—like two old friends."

"I'll believe that when Miyage joins the Maravilla—"

"Keith!" said Kara. "Don't nitpick. You and Conrad can watch each other to make sure neither one gets out of line."

"Eh?" said Bergen, cocking his head and looking sharply at Kara. "What's the professor to you?"

"He's my former husband, that's all."

"What?"

Pokrovskii roared with laughter. "Woman, ex-husband, and ex-fiancé all on same trip? Bozhe moi! Is makings of big Russian tragedy. If anybody shoot anybody, don't point de gun toward me!"

"Shut up, Oleg," said Bergen. "Everything will be on the up-and-up. I won't make passes at Kara if the professor won't. Okay?"

"Jeepers, what a prospect!" said Salazar. "I'd have to be a damned fool—"

"Oh, come on Keith!" begged Kara. "We need you. I need you."

"But—" Suddenly realizing how much he wanted Kara, the archaeologist felt his resolve melt like a snowflake in May. Kara continued:

"And I'll make you a deal. If you'll fetch my sewing kit along with my pack from your camp, when you get your stuff, I'll sew up the rips in your jacket."

"Come on, sport!" urged Bergen. "I admit I blow my top, but this time I'll be a fucking angel. Scout's honor! If anybody steps out of line, we'll head for home."

"How long d'you figure this trip'll take?" asked Salazar cautiously.

"Depends on the game; eight or ten days ought to do it."

"Okay, then." Salazar sighed with inner forebodings. "We'll have to leave the bikes in Neruu. The way to Kinyobi is merely game trails or open country."

"But, I say!" said Travers. "How do you know the Kooks won't steal them?"

"I've found the Kooks more trustworthy than most human beings. You go gather up your helpers with their loads, while I fetch Kara's and my stuff and give my people their orders." Before he started away, pushing the two bicycles, he flashed Kara a grin and muttered: "Didn't know angels could! Wouldn't those wings get in the way?"

Hours later, as the sun set, Salazar reappeared afoot, followed by Kono and Uwangi, each bearing a duffel bag. He said: "All fixed. I'll show you where you can camp."

"Hey!" said Bergen. "Could those two Kooks of yours come with us? We'll need all the extra hands—or claws—we can get."

"If you'll pay their regular wage, in addition to what you pay me."

Bergen grunted. "Damned New England skinflint! Okay."

When camp had been set up and a fire laid, Bergen said: "We've been eating each other's cooking, and it's a wonder we haven't died of it. But Kara's a good cook. So if she's to come with us ..."

"Women's work, eh?" sneered Kara. "I get the message. Where are the pots and pans?" With Pokrovskii's help, she began her preparations.

Around the fire, Bergen poured drinks. Travers said: "Doctor Salazar, are you really an American, born on Terra?"

"Ayup. Why?"

"You sound different from the Americans I've known; almost like an Englishman."

Salazar grinned. "I'm a down-east Yankee, and that's how they speak on the coast of Maine."

"But isn't Salazar a Spanish name?"

"Actually it's Portuguese, from an ancestor who caught fish for a living. You're from the English Midlands, aren't you?"

"I was born on Kukulcan; but my grandparents all came from Manchester when my parents were children. How'd you know?"

"Accent."

"My dear fellow, I don't have an accent! I merely speak English; it's you Americans who have accents."

Salazar gave his first hearty laugh since his return from Henderson. "There'll always be an England!"