by Jack Vance
Etzwane felt mildly surprised at Ifness' vehemence: such a display was unusual. They moved closer and the wrecked spaceship exerted an eerie fascination, a strange, sad majesty. Ifness alighted from his pacer. He picked up a fragment of metal, hefted it, cast it aside. He went up to the hulk, peered into the interior, shook his head in disgust. "Everything of interest is either vaporized, crushed, or melted; we have nothing to learn here."
Etzwane spoke. "You notice that a segment of the ship is missing? Look yonder in that gulch: there it has lodged. " Ifness looked where Etzwane had directed. "The ship was attacked first, perhaps, by a burst of explosive force, and then struck again, with energy sufficient to cause the melting. " He set off toward the gulch, about fifty yards distant, into which a pie-shaped section of the ship had wedged itself. The outer skin, dented and distorted but by some miracle untorn, had plastered itself across the narrow opening like a great bronze seal.
The two scrambled up the stones until they could step over to the crumpled metal. Ifness tugged at the edge of a fractured section. Etzwane joined him; by dint of straining the two bent aside the sheet to provide an opening into the hull. A vile odor issued forth: a stench of decay, different from any Etzwane had known before… He became rigid, held up his hand. "Listen."
From below came a faint scraping sound, persisting two or three seconds.
"Something seems to be alive," Etzwane peered down into the dark. The prospect of entering the broken ship had no appeal for him.
Ifness had no such qualms. From his pouch he brought an object which Etzwane had never seen before: a transparent cube half an inch on a side. Suddenly it emitted a flood of light, which Ifness turned into the dim interior. Four feet below a broken bench slanted across what seemed to be a storage chamber; a clutter of objects flung from racks lay mounded against the far wall. Ifness stepped down upon the bench and jumped to the floor. Etzwane took a last wistful look around the valley and followed. Ifness stood surveying the heaped articles against the wall. He pointed. "A corpse. " Etzwane moved to where he could see. The dead creature lay on its back, pressed against the wall. "An anthropomorphic biped," said Ifness. "Distinctly not a man; not even manlike, except for two legs, two arms, and a head. It even smells different from human carrion."
"Worse," muttered Etzwane. He bent forward, studying the dead thing, which wore no garments save various straps for the support of three pouches, one at either hip, one at the back of the head. The skin, a purplish-black parchment, seemed as hard as old leather. The head displayed a number of parallel bony ridges, originating at the top of a protective ring around the single eye and running back across the scalp. A mouth-like orifice appeared at the base of the neck. Pads of matted bristle conceivably served as auditory organs.
Ifness saw something which had escaped Etzwane. He reached for a tubular rod, then lunged forward and thrust. In the shadows at the back of the dead creature's neck was a stir of sudden movement, but Ifness was too quick; the rod struck into a small dark object. Ifness pried the body away from the wall, struck again at the small six-legged creature who had ridden in the pouch at the back of the dead neck.
"Asutra? " asked Etzwane.
Ifness gave his head a jerk of assent. "Asutra and host."
Etzwane inspected the two-legged creature once more. "It is something like the Roguskhoi in the hard skin, the shape of the head, the hands and feet. ".
"I noted the similarity," said Ifness. "It might be a collateral form, or the stock from which the Roguskhoi derived. " He spoke tonelessly; his eyes darted this way and that. Etzwane had never seen him so keen. "Quietly now," said Ifness.
On long, soft steps he went to the bulkhead and turned his light through an aperture.
They looked along a hall twenty feet long, the bulkheads twisted and distorted. Into the far end seeped a wan daylight, filtering through overhead fractures.
Ifness strode quietly down the hall into the terminating room, holding the light-cube in one hand, an energy gun in the other.
The room was vacant. Etzwane could not imagine its function or purpose. A bench flanked three walls, with cabinets above containing objects of glass and metal to which Etzwane could put no name. The outside skin and one wall pressed onto the fractured rock, which comprised the fourth wall. Ifness glared in all directions like a gaunt gray hawk. He cocked his head to listen; Etzwane did the same. The air was thick and quiet. Etzwane asked in a low voice, "What is this room?"
Ifness gave his head a curt shake. They contrive things differently on Earth-world ships… I can understand nothing of this."
"Look there. " Etzwane pointed. "More asutra.w A glass tray at the end of the bench contained a murky fluid in which floated three dozen dark ellipsoids, like so many enormous black olives. Below, indistinct in the matrix, hung still arms.
Ifness went to examine the tank. A tube entered one of the sides; from this tube filaments led up to the asutra. They seem cataleptic," said Ifness. "Perhaps they take energy, or information, or entertainment. " He stood thinking a moment, then spoke. "We can do no more. The matter is now too large for our sole discretion, and in fact is overwhelming. " He paused to look around the chamber. "There is material here to occupy ten thousand analysts, to astound the Institute. We will return at once to Shillinsk. From the boat I can signal Dasconetta, and through him order out a salvage ship.
"Something aboard is yet alive," said Etzwane. "We cannot leave it to die. " As if to reinforce his remark, a scraping sound issued from behind the crumpled wall opposite the hall.
"A ticklish business," muttered Ifness. "What if twenty Roguskhoi burst out upon us?… On the other hand, something might be learned from a host not under asutra control. Well then, let us look. But careful and easy! We must be on guard."
He went to the area where the wall met the rock. At the center and bottom, contact was not complete, leaving irregular openings, the diameter of a man's head, through which air could pass. Etzwane peered through the center gap. For a moment he saw nothing, then abruptly a round object the size of a large coin came into view, reflecting a nacreous pink and green shimmer. Etzwane drew back, oppressed by a thrilling of the nerves. He collected himself and spoke in a low voice. It is one of the host-things. I looked into its eye.
Ifness made a curt sound. "If it is alive, it is mortal, and there is no need for panic."
Etzwane choked back a retort, and taking up a metal bar, began to attack the rock. Ifness stood back, an enigmatic expression on his face.
The rock, shattered by the impact of the ship, broke away in chunks. Etzwane worked with a furious energy, as if to distract himself. The center gap grew wide. Etzwane paid no heed and drove the bar furiously into the rock… Ifness held up his hand. "Sufficient. " He stepped forward, flashed his light into the hole, to reveal a dark, waiting shape. "Come forth," said Ifness, and gestured, his hand in the illumination.
There was first silence. Then slowly, but without hesitation, the creature pulled itself through the hole. Like the corpse it stood naked but for a harness and three pouches, one of which held an asutra. Ifness spoke to Etzwane. "Lead the way to the outside. I will direct the creature to follow you."
Etzwane turned away. Ifness stepped forward, touched the creature's arm, pointed.
The creature stalked after Etzwane-down the hall, into the chamber which was open to the sky.
Etzwane climbed up on the bench, pushed his head up into the daylight. Never had air seemed so clear and sweet. And in the sky a mile overhead hovered a great disk-ship, slowly rotating on its vertical axis, the three suns laying three-colored reflections on the copper-bronze skin. Another mile above hung four smaller ships.
Etzwane stared up in consternation. The large disk-ship descended slowly. He called the news back down to Ifness.
"Hurry," said Ifness. "Help the creature up and hold fast to his harness."
Etzwane scrambled out and stood waiting. From below rose the purple-black head, ridges of bone running across the scalp. Th
e head protruded, and the shoulders, with the pouch containing the asutra. On sudden impulse Etzwane seized the pouch and pulled it away from the black body. A nerve cord stretched; the creature uttered a guttural gasp and released its grip on the edge of the hole, and would have fallen backward had Etzwane not clamped his arm around the corded neck. With his other hand he drew the dagger from his belt and slashed the nerve; the asutra, squirming and clutching, pulled free. Etzwane threw it to the surface of the ship, then heaved the dark creature up after it. Ifness quickly followed. "What is the commotion?"
"I pulled the asutra loose. There it goes yonder. Hold the host; I will kill it."
Ifness, frowning in displeasure, obeyed. The black host-creature lunged after Etzwane; Ifness clung to its harness. Etzwane ran after the scuttling black object. He picked up a stone, held it high, smashed it down upon the black bulb.
Ifness meanwhile had propelled the suddenly listless, creature behind a wall of rock, screening the descending spaceship from its sight Etzwane, leading the pacers, joined them.
Ifness asked in a frosty voice, "Why did you kill the asutra? You have left us an empty shell, hardly worth the effort of removing."
Etzwane said drily, "I recognize this. I also notice the descending ship, and I have been told that the asutra communicate telepathically with their fellows. I thought to afford us a better chance of escape."
Ifness grunted. "The telepathic capability of the asutra has never been established. " He looked up the gulch. "The way appears to be feasible. We must hurry, however… It is possible that Fabrache may think better of waiting overlong."
CHAPTER 6
The gulch, narrow, tortuous, and strewn with boulders, afforded no scope for riding. Etzwane scrambled ahead, leading the pacers. Behind came the dark creature, its unearthly tendons twitching and pulling in unfamiliar sequences. At the rear strolled Ifness, cool and detached.
Once behind the ridge they veered to the south and so returned to where they had left Fabrache. They found him lolling at his ease against a rock overlooking the valley, where now no spaceships could be seen, wrecked or otherwise. Fabrache leapt to his feet with an ejaculation of shock, for they had come up on him quietly from the side. Ifness held up his hand, admonishing Fabrache to placidity and composure. "As you see," said Ifness, "we have succored a survivor of the battle. Have you seen its like before?''
"Never! " declared Fabrache. "I am not pleased to see it now. Where will you sell it? Who would care to buy such a thing?"
Ifness gave one of his rare chuckles. "It commands value as a curiosity, if nothing else. A collector's item, so to speak. I have no doubt as to our eventual profit. But what occurred yonder in the valley?"
Fabrache stared in wonder. "What? Did you not witness the happening at first hand?"
"We took refuge behind the hill," Ifness explained. "Had we remained to watch, we ourselves might have been observed, with no telling as to the consequences."
"Of course, of course; this is clear enough. Well, the rest of the affair surpasses my comprehension. A great ship descended and seized upon the wreck and took it up as if it were a biscuit- "
"Did they hoist one section? " Ifness demanded, "Or two?"
"Two. The ship swooped a second time, and I thought, alas! what a sad end for my slaving companions! Then, as I sat here reflecting upon the remarkable life which it has been my good fortune to live, you crept up and found me musing. Aha! " Fabrache shook his head in mournful self-reproach. "Had you been Hozman Sore-throat, my time as a free man would now be done. What now is our program?"
"We will proceed back to Shagfe with all speed. First, pour out a cup of water. This creature was pent for several days."
Fabrache poured with a rueful smirk, as if reflecting upon the odd quirks of fate to which he was continually subjected. The creature without hesitation turned the contents of the cup into its throat, and did the same for three more cupfuls. Ifness then proffered a cake of jellied meat, which the creature cautiously refused, then dried fruit, which it dropped into its throat. Ifness offered it pounded seeds from which Fabrache made his bread, salt, and lump-fat, all of which the creature rejected.
The supplies were redistributed, and the dark creature was mounted on the pack animal, which jerked and shuddered at the alien scent, and walked with stiff legs and rounded nostrils.
The four set off down the Vurush Valley, along the route they had come, and the miles fell back into the afternoon. The alien rode stolidly, showing no interest in the landscape, hardly moving in the saddle. Etzwane asked Ifness, "Do you think it is in a state of shock, or grief or terror? Or is it only semi-intelligent?"
"As yet, we have no basis for assessment. In due course I would hope to learn a great deal."
"Perhaps it could act as interpreter between men and asutra," said Etzwane.
Ifness frowned, a signal that the idea had not yet occurred to him. "This is of course a possibility. " He looked toward Fabrache, who had drawn up his pacer. "What is the matter?"
Fabrache pointed to the east, where the slopes of the Orgai eased down upon the plain. "A party of riders-six or eight."
Ifness rose in his saddle, gazed across the distance. "They are riding in our direction at a good rate of speed."
"We had best do likewise," said Fabrache. "In this land one cannot take the friendship of strangers for granted. " He jerked his pacer into a full lope and the others followed suit, Etzwane applying the quirt to the pacer ridden by the alien.
Down the valley they coursed, Ifness frowning in distaste. The alien rode stiffly erect, clutching the back-curving horns of his beast. Etzwane judged that for the first two miles they gained ground, then for another two miles held their own, then the pursuing band seemed to gain. Fabrache, with long frame crouched grotesquely low and beard flapping over his shoulder, urged his pacer to its utmost efforts. He yelled over his shoulder, 'It is Hozman Sore-throat and his slaving band! Ride for freedom! Ride for your life! "
The pacers were tiring. Time after time they stumbled into a lurching jog, which aroused Fabrache to frantic measures. The pursuing pacers had also become winded, and they too slackened speed. The suns were low in the west, laying three trails upon the surface of the Vurush, Fabrache appraised the distance to the pursuing band and measured it against the height of the suns. He gave a call of despair. "We will be slaves before dark, and then we will learn Hozman's secret."
Ifness pointed ahead. "There, on the shore, a camp of wagons."
Fabrache peered and gave a croak of hope. "We shall arrive in time and claim protection… Unless they are cannibals, we are in luck."
A few moments later he called back, "They are the Alula; I now recognize their wains. They are a hospitable folk and we are safe."
On a level area near the river, fifty wains with crooked eight-foot wheels had been drawn up to form a hollow square, the wheels and dropped sideboards creating a staunch fence. A single opening faced the river. The slavers, trailing by three hundred, yards, their pacers coughing and stumbling, gave up the chase and swerved as.ide toward the river.
Fabrache led the way around the wall of wains and halted before the opening. Four men jumped forward in a crouching, splay-legged posture of threat. They wore jerkins of black chumpa-hide strips, helmets of black leather, and carried crossbows three feet wide. "If you be riders with the group yonder, go your way. We want no business with you."
Fabrache leapt from his pacer and stepped forward. "Put aside your weapons! We are travelers of the Orgai and fugitives from Hozman Sore-throat! We request protection for the night."
"All very well, but what of that one-eyed demoniac creature? We have heard tales; it is a Red Devil! "
"Nothing of the sort! The Red Devils are all dead, killed in a recent battle. This is the sole survivor of a wrecked spaceship."
"In that case, kill it as well. Why should we nurture off-world enemies?"
Ifness spoke in a measured and aristocratic voice, 'The matter is more complicated th
an this. I intend to learn the language of this creature, if it is able to talk. This knowledge will help us defeat our enemies."
"It is a matter for Karazan. Stand in your tracks; we are a suspicious people."
A moment later an enormous man strode forward, taller by a head than Fabrache. His face was no less impressive than his bulk; keen eyes glittered under a broad brow, a short beard clothed his cheeks and chin. He required a single second to appraise the situation, then turned a glance of contemptuous derogation toward the guards. "What is the difficulty? When have Alula feared three men and a monster? Let them in. " He scowled down at the riverbank where Hozman Sore-throat and his band rested % their pacers, then sauntered back the way he had come. The warriors put aside their crossbows and stood back. "Enter as you will. Take your pacers to the pen. Bed yourselves where you like, except in company with our wives. " "You have our gratitude," Fabrache declared. "Mind, that is Hozman Sore-throat, the expert slaver, yonder; let no one stray outside the camp, or he will never to be seen again."
Etzwane was intrigued by the camp, and by certain elements of barbaric splendor which in the popular imagination of Shant characterized all the tribes of Caraz. The green, pink, and magenta tents had been embroidered in marvelous starbursts and radiants. The carved tent stakes stood eight feet tall, displaying fetishes of four sorts: winged scorpions, wisk-weasels, Lake Nior kingfish, Lake Nior pelicans. The men of the camp wore trousers of pounded ahulph leather, glossy black boots, embroidered vests over loose white blouses. Married women wound their heads with purple and green scarves, their full gowns were of various colors; girls, however, swaggered about in breeches and boots like the men. Before each tent a cauldron bubbled over a fire, and the odors of spices and stewing meat permeated the camp. In front of the ceremonial wain sat the elders, passing a leather flask of aquavita back and forth. Nearby four other men, each wearing a string of golden beads, made desultory music upon stringed instruments.
