by Jack Vance
The bronze disk had focused four jets of energy on the black globe; which glowed red and burned open: apparently its protective system had failed. In retaliation it projected a gush of purple flame, which for an instant flared over the disk-ship like the blast of a torch; then the flame flickered and died. The black globe rolled over like a dead fish. The disk fired another projectile; it struck into the hole burnt by the converging beams. The globe exploded and Etzwane received an instantaneous image of black fragments flying away from a core of lambent material; among the stuff he thought to glimpse hurtling corpses, grotesquely sprawled and rotating. Fragments struck the depot ship, clanging, jarring, sending vibrations through the hull.
The sky was again clear and open. Of the black globe, not an element remained; the bronze disk had disappeared.
Etzwane said in a hollow voice, "The disk-ship lies in ambush. The depot is bait. The asutra know we are here; they believe us to be their enemies and they wait for our ships to arrive."
Etzwane and Karazan searched the sky with a new anxiety. The simple rescue of four girls from Hozman Sore-throat had expanded into a situation far past all their imaginings. Etzwane had not bargained for participation in a space war; Karazan and the Alula had not comprehended the psychological pressures which would be put upon them.
The sky remained clear of traffic; the suns sank at the back of a million magenta cloud-feathers. Night was instant; dusk showed only as a sad, subtle bloom upon the face of Durdane.
During the night the patrols were relaxed, to Etzwane's displeasure. He complained to Karazan, pointing out that conditions remained as before, but Karazan reacted with an irritable sweep of his great arm, consigning Etzwane and his peevish little fears to oblivion. Karazan and the Alula had become demoralized, Etzwane angrily told himself, to such an extent that they would have welcomed attack, captivity, slavery, anything which might have provided them with a palpable antagonist. Pointless to harangue them, Etzwane brooded; they no longer listened.
Night passed, and the day and other nights and days. The Alula sat huddled in the observation dome; they stared out at the sky, seeing nothing. The time had arrived when Ifness might be expected; but no one any longer believed in Ifness nor the Earth ship; the only reality was the sky cage and the empty panorama.
Etzwane had considered a dozen systems for warning Ifness, should he indeed arrive, arid had rejected them all, or, more properly, none was in any degree workable. Presently Etzwane himself lost count of the days. The presence of the other men had long since grown odious, but apathy was a stronger force than hostility, and the men suffered each other in a silent community of mutual detestation.
Then the quality of the waiting changed, and became a sense of imminence. The men muttered uneasily and watched from the observation dome, the whites of their eyes showing. Everyone knew that something was about to occur, and soon, and this was the case. The bronze disk-ship reappeared.
The men aboard the depot gave soft guttural groans of despair; Etzwane made a last wild inspection of the sky, willing the Earth ships into existence. Where was Ifness?
The sky was vacant except for the bronze disk-ship. It eased in a circle around the depot, then halted and slowly approached. It loomed enormous, blotting out the sky. The hulls touched; the depot jerked and quivered. From the location of the entry port came a throbbing sound. Karazan looked at Etzwane. "They are coming aboard. You have your energy weapon; will you fight?"
Etzwane gave his. head a dreary shake. "Dead we are no use to anyone, least of all ourselves."
Karazan sneered. "So it is to be surrender? They will take us away and make us their slaves."
"This is the prospect," said Etzwane. "It is better than death. Our hope is that the Earth worlds at last know the situation and will intervene on our behalf."
Karazan gave a jeering laugh and clenched his great fists, but still stood indecisive. From below came the sounds of ingress. Karazan told his warriors: "Make no resistance. Our force falls short of our desires. We must suffer the penalties of weakness."
Into the dome ran two black Ka, each with an asutra clamped to the nape of its neck. They ignored the men except to shoulder them aside and moved to the controls. One worked the curious little studs with ease and certainty. Deep within the ship an engine whined. The view outside the dome grew dim, then dark; nothing could be seen. Another Ka came to the entrance of the dome. It made gestures, indicating that the Alula and Etzwane were to leave. Sullenly Karazan hunched to the exit, and bending his neck, marched down the ramp toward the slave hold. Etzwane followed, and the others came behind.
CHAPTER 8
The Alula squatted in the aisles between the slave racks. The Ka ignored them as they moved about their tasks, asutra clamped to their necks like leeches.
The depot ship was in motion. The men felt no vibration, no lunge or surge, but the knowledge was sure, as if the shifting infrasubstance rasped upon a sensitive area of the brain. The men huddled silently, each thinking his own sullen thoughts. The Ka paid them no heed.
Time passed, at a pace impossible to measure. Where uncertainty and taut nerves had previously drawn out the hours, now a dismal melancholy worked to the same effect.
Etzwane's single hope was that Ifness had not been killed on the Plain of Blue Flowers, and that vanity would impel him to their assistance. The Alula knew no hope whatever and were apathetic. Etzwane looked across the chamber to the niche where lay Rune the Willow Wand. He could see the outline of her temple and cheekbone, and felt a sudden warmth. To seem gallant in her sight, he had risked and lost his freedom. Such would be Ifness' insulting opinion. Was it justified? Etzwane heaved a sad sigh. His motives had been complex; he did not know them himself.
Karazan heaved himself to his feet. He stood motionless for ten seconds, then stretched out his great arms, twisted them this way and that, making the muscles writhe. Etzwane became alarmed; Karazan's face was peculiarly calm and intent. The Alula watched, interested but indifferent. Etzwane jumped up, called out sharply. Karazan gave no signal that he had heard. Etzwane shook his shoulder; Karazan slowly turned his head; Etzwane saw no expression in the wide gray eyes.
The other Alula rose to their feet. One muttered to Etzwane, "Stand back. He is in death-seek."
Another said, "It is dangerous to molest folk in this condition; after all, his way may be the best."
"Not so! " cried Etzwane. "Dead folk are no good to anyone. Karazan! " He shook the massive shoulders. "Listen! Do you hear me? If you ever want to see Lake Nior again, listen! "
He thought that a flicker of response appeared in Karazan's eyes. "We are not without hope! Ifness is alive; he will find us."
One of the other Alula asked anxiously, "Do you really believe this?"
"If you knew Ifness you would never doubt it! The man cannot tolerate defeat."
"This may be," said the Alula, "but how does this avail when we are lost upon a far star?"
From Karazan's throat came a hoarse sound and then words. "How can he find us?"
"I don't know," Etzwane admitted, "but I will never lose hope. " Karazan said in a throbbing voice, "It is foolish to speak of hope. In vain did you draw me back."
"If you are a brave man you will hope," said Etzwane. " 'Death-seek' is the easy way."
Karazan made no reply. Once more he seated himself, then stretching out full-length he slept. The other Alula muttered together, turning cool glances toward Etzwane, as if his interference with Karazan's "death-seek " were not to their liking… Etzwane went to his accustomed place and presently fell asleep.
The Alula had become unfriendly. Pointedly they ignored Etzwane and pitched their voices so that he could not hear. Karazan did not share the hostility, but sat off by himself, twirling a weighted thong around his finger.
The next time Etzwane slept, he awoke suddenly to. find three Alula standing over him: Black Hulanik, Fairo the Handsome, Ganim Thornbranch. Ganim Thornbranch carried a length of cord. Etzwane sat up, energy g
un ready at hand. He remembered Hozman Sore-throat and his lolling tongue. The Alula, blank-faced, moved off across the room.
Etzwane reflected a few moments, then went to Karazan. "Some of your men were about to kill me."
Karazan nodded ponderously and twirled his thong.
"What is the reason for this?"
It seemed that Karazan might make no response. Then, with something of an effort, he said, 'There is no particular reason. They want to kill someone and have selected you. It is a game of sorts."
"I don't care to join," Etzwane declared in a brassy voice. "They can play with someone from their own group. Order them to let me be. " Karazan shrugged lethargically. It makes little difference."
"Not to you. To me it makes a great deal of difference."
Karazan shrugged and twirled his thong.
Etzwane went off to consider the situation. So long as he remained awake, he would live. When he slept, he would die-perhaps not the first, nor even the second time. They would play with him, try to break his nerve. Why? No reason. A game, the malicious sport of a barbarian tribe. Cruelty? Etzwane was the outsider, a non-Alula with no more status than a chumpa captured for the baiting.
Several recourses suggested themselves. He could shoot his tormentors and abate the nuisance once and for all. A solution not wholly satisfactory. Even if the asutra failed to confiscate the gun, the game would continue in a more vicious form, with everyone waiting until he slept. The best defense was offense, thought Etzwane. He rose to his feet and crossed the chamber, as if on his way to the latrine. His eyes fell on the still form of Rune the Willow Wand; she seemed less appealing than before; she was, after all, an Alula barbarian, no better than her fellows… Etzwane turned aside to the room containing the bags of meal cake and the water tanks. In the doorway he halted to inspect the group. They looked back askance. Smiling grimly Etzwane brought forward a case of food and seated himself. The Alula watched with alert but expressionless faces. Etzwane once more rose to his feet. He took a wafer of the meal cake and a mug of water. Reseating himself, he ate and drank. He noticed several of the Alula licking their lips. As if by common impulse, all turned away and somewhat ostentatiously gave themselves to slumber.
Karazan looked on soberly, his noble forehead creased in a frown. Etzwane ignored him. What if Karazan wanted food and drink? Etzwane had come to no firm decision. He would probably provide Karazan his sustenance.
Upon consideration he moved back into the shadows, where he was less vulnerable to a thrown knife: the obvious response of the Alula. Presently, dissatisfied with his arrangements, he stacked several boxes of meal to provide a barricade behind which he could see but not be seen.
He began to feel drowsy. His eyelids sagged… He awoke with a start to notice one of the Alula sidling close.
"Two more steps and you're a dead man," said Etzwane.
The Alula stopped short. "Why should you deny me water? I took no part in the baiting."
"You did nothing to control the three who did. Starve and thirst in their company-until they are dead."
"This is not fair! You do not reckon with our customs."
To the contrary. It is now I who do the baiting. When Fairo the Handsome, Ganim Thornbranch, and Black Hulanik are dead, you shall drink."
The thirsty Alula turned slowly away. Karazan intoned, "It is an ill thing which has occurred."
"You might have stopped it," said Etzwane. "You chose to do nothing."
Rising to his feet Karazan glared into the provisions locker; for a moment he seemed the Karazan of old. Then his shoulders slumped. He said, 'This is true. I gave no instructions; why worry about one death when all are doomed?"
"I happen to worry about my death," said Etzwane. "And now I am doing the baiting, and the victims are Fairo, Ganim, Hulanik."
Karazan looked toward the three named men; every eye in the room followed his gaze. The three men made defiant grimaces and glared about them.
Karazan spoke in a conciliatory voice. "Let us put aside this business; it is unnecessary and unreasonable."
"Why did you not say this while I was being baited? " demanded Etzwane in a fury. "When the three are dead you will eat and drink."
Karazan settled once more to his previous position. Time passed. At first there was an ostentatious show of solidarity with the three, then other groups formed, talking in whispers. The three huddled back between the racks, and their glass knives glittered from the shadows.
Etzwane dozed once more. He awoke, intensely aware of danger. The chamber was still. Etzwane rose to his knees and backed further into the shadows. Across the outer chamber the Alula were watching. Someone had reached the wall and now sidled inch by inch, out of Etzwane's range of vision, toward the provision locker. Who?
Karazan no longer sat by the wall.
A paralyzing roar; a vast shape filled the aperture. Etzwane pulled the trigger, more by startlement than design. He saw a star-shaped dazzle as the flame struck into a great face. The lunging man was instantly dead. His body tottered into the wall and fell over backward.
Etzwane came slowly out into the room, which was hushed in horror. He stood looking down at the corpse, wondering what Karazan had intended, for Karazan carried no weapon. He had known Karazan as a large-souled man: simple, direct, and benevolent. Karazan deserved better than his cramped, despairing fate. He looked along the silent white faces. "The responsibility is yours. You tolerated malice and now you have lost your great leader."
Among the Alula there was a furtive shifting of position, a secret interchange of glances. Change came so quickly as to numb the mind: from dazed torpor to wild, screaming activity. Etzwane stumbled back against the wall. Alula leapt through the air; there was slashing and hacking and the doing of grisly deeds; and in a moment all was finished. On the deck Fairo, Ganim Thornbranch, Black Hulanik wallowed in their own blood, and two other men as well.
Etzwane said, "Quick, before the asutra arrive. Drag the bodies into the racks. Find room on the shelves."
Dead bodies lay beside living. Etzwane broke open a sack of meal and blotted up the blood. In five minutes the slave hold was orderly and calm, if somewhat less crowded than before. A few minutes later three Ka with asutra peering from the napes of their necks passed through the hold, but did not pause.
The Alula, with hunger and thirst sated and with emotions spent, fell into a state of inertness, more stupor than sleep. Etzwane, though distrustful of the unpredictable Alula temperament, decided that vigilance would only foster a new hostility and gave himself up to sleep, first taking the precaution of tying the energy gun to a loop of his pouch.
He slept undisturbed. When at last he awoke, he realized that the ship was at rest.
CHAPTER 9
The air in the hold seemed stale; the bluish illumination had dimmed and was more depressing than ever. From overhead came the thud of footsteps and fluctuating snatches of nasal Ka warbling. Etzwane rose to his feet and went to the ramp to listen. The Alula also rose and stood looking uncertainly toward the ramp: a far cry from the swaggering warriors Etzwane had met an aeon before at a bend of the Vurush River.
A grinding hiss, a chatter of ratchets: a section of wall drew back; a wash of gray light flooded the hold, to drown the blue glow.
Etzwane pushed past the Alula, where he could look out the opening. He leaned back in dismay and shock, unable to find meaning in the welter of strange shapes and colors. He looked once more through narrowed eyes, matching the pattern-forming capabilities of his mind against the alien stuff, and aspects of the landscape shifted into mental focus. He saw steep-sided sugarloaf hills overgrown with a lustrous black, dark-green, and brown pelt of vegetation. Beyond and above spread a heavy gray overcast, under which hung pillows of black cloud and a few veils of rain. Along the lower slopes straggled lines of irregular structures, built from rough lumps of an oyster-white material. At ground level the structures formed a denser complex. Most were built of the pallid lumps; a few seemed mon
olithic forms of black scoriaceous slag. Passages wound between and around, slanting and curving, without apparent purpose. Certain of these were smooth and wide and carried vehicles: cage-like drays; wagons, resembling beetles with raised wings; smaller lizard-like vehicles, darting inches above the surface. At intervals posts held up enormous black rectangles, lacking marks or discernible purpose. Etzwane wondered whether the eyes of Ka and asutra distinguished colors invisible to himself. The immediate foreground was a flat, paved area surrounded by a fence of woven bronze. Etzwane, who by instinct observed and interpreted colors automatically, after the symbology of Shant, noted no purposeful use of color. Somewhere in the confusion of size, form, and proportion, he thought, symbology must exist; technical civilization was impossible without control over abstractions.
The inhabitants of the place were Ka, at least half of whom carried asutra on their necks. No gray toad-men were in evidence, nor were human beings to be seen.
Except one. Into the slave hold climbed a person tall and spare, in a shapeless, coarse-fibered cloak. Stiff gray hair lay piled above the seamed gray face like a forkful of hay; the chin was long and without hair. Etzwane saw that the person was a woman, though her aspect and conduct were asexual. She called in a loud, windy voice, The persons now awake: follow me to the ground! Smartly now, quick and easy. This is "the first thing to know; never wait for two commands. " The woman spoke a dialect barely comprehensible; she seemed bitter and wild and grim as a winter storm. She set off down the ramp. Etzwane gingerly followed, glad to win free from the detested slave hold and its nightmare memories.
The group descended to the paved area under the great black depot ship. On a walkway above stood four Ka, looming like dark statues with asutra at their necks. The woman led them into the mouth of a fenced run. "Wait here; I go to wake the sleepers."
An hour passed. The men stood hunched against the fence, glum and silent. Etzwane, clinging to his Ifness-inspired shred of faith, was able to take a melancholy interest in the surroundings. The passage of time made the circumstances no less strange. From various directions came the muffled Ka fluting, mingled with the hiss of traffic on the road immediately across the fence. Etzwane watched the eight-wheeled, segmented drays roll past. Who guided them? He could see no cab or compartment other than a small cupola at the front, and within a small dark mass: asutra… From the depot ship marched the woman followed by dazed folk who had occupied the shelves. They stumbled and limped and looked here and there in sad amazement. Etzwane noted Srenka and presently Gulshe; the erstwhile bravos hunched along as miserably, as the others. Gulshe's gaze passed across Etzwane's face; he gave no signal of recognition. At the end of the procession came Rune the Willow Wand, and she as well looked past Etzwane without interest.
