by Mick Farren
'I'm sorry, sir, but we were just wondering where the town might be.'
Makartur looked disgusted, but fortunately didn't say anything. The ramp bull positively sneered.
'It's round the other side of the crawler, you fool.'
Phaid half bowed and, nudging Makartur to follow him, he hurried down the ramp. The big man was obviously still spoiling for a fight, but he reluctantly followed. They made their way round to the rear of the huge machine and were treated to their first sight of Wad-Hasa Wells.
'Hell's teeth, will you just look. Whatever possessed human beings to live in a place like that?'
Wad-Hasa Wells was almost as desolate as the desert that surrounded it. Most of the habitations lay beneath the ground. Small white domes protected the entrances from wind and sand. These domes were the same light ochre as the desert and they gave the oasis the look of a piece of land that had melted, bubbled and then solidified.
The meagre water supply was marked by an area of sparse foliage, two towering spike ferns and a small thicket of cactus. Phaid slowly shook his head. Even Freeport would have been preferable.
'What the hell do we do now?'
Makartur looked at Phaid with raised eyebrows.
'We, manny? We? I wasn't aware that we'd suddenly become partners or anything of that nature.'
Phaid was a little taken aback. He'd started to assume that he and the clansman would work on the problem of getting out of Wad-Hasa Wells together. To Phaid, it was only logical, but Makartur didn't seem to see it that way. A third party did, however, think that there was some sort of connection between the two men.
'Hey, you two!'
It was an unshaven, ragged looking man in a flowing but dirty robe who'd been behind them coming off the crawler. Phaid and Makartur both turned.
'Yeah?'
'Youse two gents got any money?'
Both men were instantly suspicious.
'Who wants to know?'
The traveller raised both hands.
'No, no, don't get me wrong. I'm not looking for a handout or nothing like that. You just seemed as though you could use a few words of advice.'
'We could?'
'By the way youse acting, it don't seem like you ever been in these parts before.'
Makartur nodded.
'Aye, that's a fact.'
The traveller grinned.
'I thought as much. If you had, you wouldn't be hanging around the way you are.'
'Hanging around?'
That's right.'
'What's wrong with hanging around, then? Is there a law against it or something?'
'As good as.'
'What?'
'As soon as the crawler moves out, the Deemer sends his boys to go round up anyone who ain't got the cash to the next stop.'
'The Deemer?'
'Runs the town, don't he? Deems what's going to happen, if you see what I mean. At least that's the derivation, like. Anyhow, once the crawler's on its way, his boys make the round up of them who get off here because they can't afford to go any further.'
'And what do they do with the ones who get rounded up?'
'They give them until sundown to come up with something; and if they can't they get marched out into the desert. If they try and creep back, they get shot.'
'But you can't survive in the desert.'
'Got it in one.'
Phaid and Makartur looked at each other and then back to the traveller.
'What are you going to do?'
'Me? Oh, I'm in the clear, I've got relatives here, haven't I?'
The crawler's drive roared into life as if to underline the bad news.
Phaid glanced nervously at the vibrating machine.
'What the hell do we do?'
This time Makartur didn't question the use of the word 'we'. The traveller also glanced at the crawler. It seemed about ready to move. He spoke very quickly.
'Best thing you can do is get inside someplace. The sink'd be the best place. The Deemer's boys usually figure that if anyone makes straight for the sink he's got to have money and as a rule they leave him alone.'
'What's a sink?'
'It's kind of like an inn. You can't miss it. It's the big dome with a blue sign, right by the covered well. You'll find a door and some steps. This is my advice, get in there. I better be moving if I'm going to see my relatives.'
With that he scurried off, leaving Phaid and Makartur staring at each other open mouthed.
'We'd better find this sink place as fast as we can, manny.'
'Now you're talking about we.'
'Don't mess around, man. I've got no fancy to tangle with the local law and order.'
They hurried towards the collection of low domes that made up the visible portion of the town.
'Where the hell is this place, do you reckon?'
'My bet is that the well ought to be somewhere close to those spike ferns.'
They moved off towards the small patch of dusty greenery. Phaid found that there was something a little disturbing about walking in among the low domes. It appeared that during the heat of the day the entire population went underground. Phaid didn't like the idea of having a whole town beneath his feet. He tried to imagine what the place was like at night. His impression was that it would be distinctly eerie.
They came out from between two domes, but quickly stopped and backed up the way they had come. Half a dozen men in broad brimmed white hats, off-white semi-uniforms and heavy boots had emerged from a dome some way away. Both Phaid and Makartur ducked down so they wouldn't be spotted over the tops of the lower domes.
'I guess they must be the squad.'
Fortunately, the squad was marching in the opposite direction. Phaid looked around anxiously.
'Where's this sink or whatever it's called?'
Makartur scanned the domes and then pointed.
'There! The blue sign.'
'What are we waiting for?'
Walking as swiftly as possible, but not actually running, they moved off in the direction of the blue sign. When they got there, the lettering was in a script that Phaid couldn't read, but, just like the man said, there was an open doorway with a set of steps spiralling downwards. Phaid hesitated and glanced at Makartur. 'You think we should go inside?'
'It'd be better than standing around.'
They started down the stairs with Makartur leading the way. The stairs made three complete turns, and then a low arch led into a cool, dimly lit room.
It was indeed some sort of an inn, but pretty unlike any inn that Phaid had ever seen before. Being hollowed out from the earth, nobody had bothered to create anything approaching a regular shape. There were recesses, alcoves, fluted pillars, some niches packed with cushions and low divans as well as regular tables and benches. Two more arches opened on to flights of descending stairs that went down to lower levels even deeper underground.
At the far end of the room a marble counter served as a bar. For such an out of the way place it was surprisingly well stocked. Ranks of varied bottles lined the shelves behind the counter, and a row of dully gleaming brass pressure kegs stood in a row on the floor beneath it. A line of ale taps on the counter were connected to them by shiny steel hoses.
As well as the variety of alcohol, there were also various grades of the narcotic dog gold leaf in screw top, airtight glass jars, a selection of cheeses in an open fronted display case and a squat, brass bound cracker barrel. The whole set-up had an air of cleanliness and efficiency.
Phaid and Makartur marched up to the counter where what they assumed was the innkeeper, or whatever name was given to the proprietor of a sink, was polishing a glass and pointedly ignoring them. He was a dapper little man with slicked down hair, a crisp white shirt and a fancy brocade hat. His small, mean mouth and close set eyes suggested that he wasn't the sort one could ask a favour of with any hope of getting it granted. Phaid arranged his face into a tentative smile. 'Sure is hot outside.'
The innkeeper sniffed. 'So wh
at else is new?'
'You got any ale?'
The innkeeper nodded curtly at the row of kegs.
'What do you think those are?'
'So what kind have you got?'
'Light, dark or extra strong.'
'Give me an extra strong.'
He glanced at Makartur.
'You want an extra strong?'
'A light will cut the dust just as well.'
Churlishness seemed to be contagious in the sink. Phaid turned back to the inkeeper.
'An extra strong and a light.'
While the innkeeper took two hinged top steins down from a shelf and started filling them, Phaid surveyed the place a little more carefully. There were only five other customers. Two elderly men were absorbed in a game of checkers, while three others sprawled on cushions. At first Phaid thought they were asleep, then he noticed the slow, bovine motion of the jaws and realised that they were far away in the magic world that appeared once you'd chewed enough dog gold.
'Quiet around here, isn't it?'
The innkeeper pushed the two steins across the marble.
'Sometimes it is and then again, sometimes it ain't. That'll be four tabs.'
Phaid dropped four singles on to the counter. Makartur tossed another one down.
'Give me a twist of dog gold.'
He glanced at Phaid.
'You want some?'
Phaid shook his head.
'No thanks. This place is weird enough as it is.'
The innkeeper scooped up the money, but didn't seem inclined to go about his business. After a couple of seconds, Makartur jutted his chin at him.
'You want something?'
'I thought we might settle the matter of rent.'
'What are you talking about?'
'You ain't been through these parts before, have you?'
Both Phaid and Makartur shook their heads. The innkeeper smiled thinly.
'I didn't think so. That's why we ought to settle the rent right now, so there won't be no misunderstanding when it gets around to sunset.'
Makartur started to bristle.
'And what do we need to pay rent to you for, little man?'
'You planning to still be here after sunset, are you?'
'Maybe.'
'Then you need a place to stay. If you ain't taken a room by sunset then I got to report you both to the Deemer's office. If you can't show that you got some other place to stay the Deemer's men'll march you out into the desert with the rest of the vagrants. It's the rules, see. Nothing I can do about it.'
'This town don't seem to be strong on hospitality.'
The innkeeper leaned forward.
'Well, that's just where you're wrong, my friend. We got a lot of hospitality in this town. It's about all we do have. It's a valuable commodity. We sell it to travellers for the best price we can get. That's how we survive. It ain't easy here in the desert, let me tell you. There's nothing going spare for rogues and bums and freeloaders.'
He paused to give both Phaid and Makartur a significant look.
'So gents,, do you want a room or don't you?'
Phaid slowly closed his eyes. He'd never been anywhere that was so tightly sewn up.
'How much is a room?'
'Ten a piece, or fifteen between you if you want to share one.'
'We'll share.'
Between them they were just able to come up with it. Reluctantly they placed it on the counter. The innkeeper actually cracked a smile.
'That's nice and tidy, then. You want to book for tomorrow right now? There won't be a crawler in for another three days.'
Makartur scowled.
'We'll talk about tomorrow when tomorrow comes.'
The innkeeper's smile faded.
'Don't leave it too long. I've heard that the drovers will be coming through with a herd. We get pretty busy when that happens. You may not get a room.'
That seemed to be the end of the conversation. Phaid and Makartur carried their ale to a stone table as far from the counter as possible. Phaid sat down with a sigh.
'What a place.'
Makartur shrugged.
'We're all right for today. Maybe something will turn up tomorrow.'
Phaid was determined not to look on the bright side.
'What the hell can turn up? There's not even a crawler in for three days.'
'The drovers for one.'
'What are these drovers?'
'They move the herds of veebes from the savannahs and down to stockyards in the cities. In this region, I'd guess they'd been resting over here on the way to Chasabad.'
Phaid looked puzzled.
'How can a bunch of veebe herders do us any good?'
'A lot of ways, manny. If we get real lucky, there might even be one of my people among them. There's plenty of them who've found work with the drovers. Although, mind you, there are not that many who come as far as this region.'
'And if one of your long lost relatives don't turn up, what then?'
'When the drovers come to town, there'll be drinking and chaos. This Deemer can't have that many men. They'll have their hands full with rowdy drovers. If we keep our heads down, they'll not have time to bother us.'
'I suppose that's something.'
'Who knows. When drovers hit town there's usually a few fall out drunk, unconscious or even dead. It seems to me that we'd probably be able to hire on. At least Chasabad is in the right direction for the Republic.'
Phaid looked genuinely horrified.
'Hire on? Chasing a herd of stinking veebes? You're joking.'
'You could do a lot worse.'
'I can't think how.'
Makartur pulled a chunk off the twist of dog gold and stuffed it into his mouth.
'Maybe you've a plan to find your own way out of this place?'
Phaid scowled.
'Maybe.'
Sitting in a bar, no matter how exotic, without any money can quickly become a bore. Phaid made his.beer last as long as possible but once it had gone there wasn't another damn thing to do. The dog gold had started to go to work on Makartur. His eyes glazed. It seemed as though drink and dog gold were two exceptions to his rigid warrior puritanism. Phaid suspected that women would probably be the third. After a while Makartur stumbled to his feet. He waved a brawny arm in the direction of the exit.
'I'm going out.'
Phaid sniffed.
'What the hell for?'
'To look around.'
'Do what you like.'
Phaid was actually starting to feel sleepy. It might have been the dry desert air or, more probably, some sort of hangover from Makartur's home-brew. His eyes were actually starting to close when the sink was suddenly full of women. Phaid woke up with a start. He was stunned. It was the very last thing that he had expected. The sleepy little hostelry suddenly took on the ambience of a bordello, a bordello instantly created for the drovers and their money. There were about thirty females in the noisy gaggle; some young, some not so young, and a few scarcely more than children. Their ages may have varied, but they were all heavily made-up and decked out in costumes that were obviously the individual owner's idea of the ultimate in seductiveness.
The women were in high spirits and they filled the bar with an almost carnival atmosphere as they waited for the drovers to arrive. Phaid, as the only functioning male in the place, became the stooge for a good deal of teasing and badinage. These desert women quickly proved that they could be as creatively foul mouthed as any bunch of big city whores. Phaid thought back to the girl on the crawler and wondered if everyone in these desert lands around the fringes of the heat survived by selling themselves.
As the booze started to flow, the women vied to outdo each other in coarse boasts of what they were going to do with the drovers, once they arrived. When Phaid, slightly bewildered, tried to find out what was going on, a matronly lady called Dorrie, in a low cut, flowing gown that revealed a great deal of her ample bosom, did her best to explain. It appeared that the veebe
herd had been spotted out in the desert and the town was gearing up for the influx of drovers. Although Phaid did not shock easily, it came as quite a surprise to find that the women were not full time prostitutes, but simply all presentable women in the town, married or single. They were getting ready to take up the ancient trade with the full connivance and co-operation of fathers, husbands and brothers. It was apparently no disgrace. Phaid had never met anything like this before and he had difficulty dealing with it.
'Your husbands? Don't they mind?'
Dorrie grinned at the blurted question.
'Mind? Of course our husbands don't mind. It's natural, isn't it? When the drovers, or any other travelling men come to town, they want women. We're the only women here and we provide. This whole town survives by providing for travellers. We don't make anything and we don't grow anything in this desert. It'd be stupid if we didn't perform this service. It'd lose a whole lot of cash for the town, and anyway, a change is as good as a rest, that's what I always say.'
The other girls around her shrieked with laughter. As far as they were concerned, they were making a valuable contribution to the isolated town's precarious economy and enjoying themselves in the bargain.
'I'd have a strapping drover instead of my old man any day of the week.'
For an hour or more, the women went on laughing and drinking in anticipation of the party to come. Phaid found himself buoyed up and borne along by their enthusiasm. He also found that, despite the disapproval of the owner of the sink, a number of free drinks were pressed upon him. He was, in fact, three parts drunk when a small boy ran down the stairs waving his arms and shouting.
'They're here! They're here! The drovers are here!'
Chapter 7
Phaid crouched behind one of the most outlying of the low domes and hoped that nobody would notice him. Wad-Hasa Wells had been turned into a scene out of a nightmare by the horde of drunken drovers. Burly figures, loaded to the eyes on dog gold and alcohol, stumbled about in the darkness shouting and bellowing like animals. All the above ground glo-globes in Wad-Hasa Wells had long since been shot out, and the only light came from a thin crescent moon and the fires that had been lit between the domes. It reflected dimly on sweaty, vacant faces or the brown skin of women who had been stripped naked during the long debauch and who had been either unable or unwilling to find their torn and discarded clothes. Men fought each other without knowing who they were pounding or why. When the drovers fought they used anyway they could to knock down the opponent. Heads, fists and feet all came into play. They gouged, they kicked and they butted. The slightest imagined insult could start yet another pair brutally slugging it out.
