'I'm sure they can, Agnes,' said Wilfred kindly. 'I'll see what I can find out.' But secretly he no longer believed there were any clever doctors on Venus, or scientists or engineers, only cruelty, rapine and death.
As the ship rose and turned away from the village there began a tiresome series of introductions, with all the usual pledges of grovelling servitude that etiquette required. By the time Wilfred had finished with the last yellow-clad officer, Daphne had been spirited away. His uncle was waiting for him.
'How are things?' asked Wilfred.
'Albert and Ludo are here; they're fine. There's Veldo's ear, of course, or rather the lack of it, but he seems quite proud of that. I suppose we've lost a couple of hundred dead, all told, and maybe twice that number wounded. They bury them so quick it's hard to tell. Loris has a lot of work to do — it's a mess. Soon after you left, this lot appeared. There was a bit of ray gunning and the Purples backed off. Veldo seems determined not to let that bastard Nigluundo get away and he's got him and what's left of his men bottled up at the far end of the lake. Provided he can keep the hakijukid from taking them off they're stuck there. We saw you attack the Purple ship and were pretty worried until Pu and Ladu got back.'
'What happened to it? We saw them going after it.'
'It never reappeared. That's all I know. They fight like berserkers don't they? Don't seem to care if they live or die.'
'That's true enough. I no longer wonder why there are so few of them. Where's Veleema?'
'She took Daphne off somewhere as soon as she boarded. Look, I don't mean to pry, but are, er, congratulations in order?'
'Yes, if you want to put it like that.'
'Ah, right ho. She said you would.'
'It wasn't like you think!'
'I'm sure you were ever the gentleman. But listen; you ought to know I've had quite a lot to do with Veleema since you left. For some reason she decided to confide in me. Can't think why.'
'She likes you. She always has.'
'And I like her, very much. She's a fine, brave, intelligent woman. Quite a looker too. And I don't mind telling you, you've pretty thoroughly captured her heart.'
'She told you that? It's supposed to be a secret. Why isn't she here? Is she hiding from me?'
'Not exactly, but she wants you to keep away from both of them until we know the state of play. I told her you wouldn't like it but I think she's right; you'll be no use to them dead or locked up, and when they really need you, you'll probably know it.'
'But if she doesn't trust the Yellows, why is she letting them take her to Faluaan? Wouldn't it have been better to wait and let someone else do the negotiating?'
'I entirely agree and I told her so, but she feels she has no choice. With Nigluundo corralled in Torris Verga and the Purples suing for peace she says it's too good a chance to miss. I rather think she believes that if only Daphne can show the Mark in Faluaan it'll be game, set and match. Maybe she's right. Come over here, I want to show you something.'
'But who has told her they're suing for peace?' said Wilfred, following him. 'It can only have been the Yellows. They could be lying.'
'I said that too. You mustn't think I didn't try. I wish you could have been there; she might have listened to you. Take a look at this gun.'
'What about it?'
'Just tell me what you see. There's no-one watching.'
Wilfred looked closely at the ray gun, the nearest in a row of five, mounted at regular intervals along the main deck. There didn't seem to be anything odd about it, although he might have expected something larger. He was about to declare himself at a loss when he noticed a circle of daylight around the edges of its port, presently closed. Jagged and not quite circular, it looked for all the world as if it had been cut from the hull with a giant tin opener, then fitted back again to form a crude lid. A wooden batten held it in place.
'I suppose that just about clinches it,' he sighed, and thought miserably of Agnes.
'You see what it means, don't you?' said Freddy. 'I knew you would.'
'When did you realise?'
'Just now, waiting for you. I had my suspicions while wandering about Faluaan but I told myself that Venus isn't Earth. Why have artificial light when every leaf glows in the dark? And why bother with wheels when you've got the poor bally thaalid to carry things about? I didn't want to believe it, I suppose. Then I saw this.'
'I'd more or less concluded the same thing,' admitted Wilfred. 'I'd rather hoped it was just Torris Verga – cut off for centuries and all that – but then, of course, there was the state of Veleema's ship. I suppose we should have guessed. We'd best tell the others.'
Chapter 25
Much to the surprise of crew and passenger alike, Faluaan's landing field was deserted. No Yellow ships hovered at anchor or patrolled overhead, and no Yellow guard of honour stood waiting to receive them. Eventually a squad of Purple ishtaarid ambled into view, accompanied by an officer and a chair. They had, he said, instructions to escort the Voorni to the palace.
The Yellow captain anxiously conferred with his officers.'We will come too,' he said.
Veleema and Daphne mounted the chair, and the Earthlings tagged along behind, the Yellows staying close beside them. They were clearly nervous at being unexpectedly alone in the enemy's capital but seemed determined to execute their orders to the letter.
It had only just stopped raining, and the streets of the town were almost as empty as the landing ground. A few thaalid hurried by, but most humans had yet to emerge from their siesta. Those that had, paid them little attention beyond the occasional mildly curious stare.
'This doesn't feel much like an arrival in triumph, does it?' observed Wilfred.
'Nor a city under occupation,' said Freddy. 'It doesn't look any different from the last time I was here, except that it's daylight and the shops are closed. That's the palace up ahead.'
Soon, the immense building was towering over them, a Gothic wedding-cake of black stone and gleaming bronze, each tier surrounded by high, castellated walls.
'Grim looking place,' observed Simms, with characteristic gloom.
They climbed seemingly endless steps and crossed numerous courtyards, each entered through mighty bronze gates. At every gate lounged a pair of guards, but they appeared to pay them no more attention than the multitude of scurrying thaalid in their purple hats and breechclouts. Entering, at last, the great central plaza of the palace, the chair stopped. Their escort wandered off, and the Yellows, assured by the Migraani that they would be all right, marched away too.
A thaal in a purple tabard appeared and politely ushered them into a large and lofty hall, at the far end of which they were surprised to discover a party in progress. A dozen or so couples were dancing to a gramophone, and others were clustered, chattering and laughing, around a substantial buffet. Everyone was dressed in the latest fashion, and unlike the peculiar goings-on in the townsfolk's marquee it could almost have passed for a smart gathering on Earth. Not quite, however, for nearby, on the usual low dais, were two thrones, somewhat resembling those in the Migraani's ill-fated ship but opulent to a degree. The larger of them was unoccupied and on the other lounged Charles, smoking.
There came an excited cry from among the dancers and a plump redheaded young woman came bouncing over to them.
'Darlings!' she cried. 'How absolutely spiffing to see you! Daphne, my dear, you're looking as lovely as ever. How do you do it? And My Lord Lambent, and Freddy Carstairs, and Wilfred isn't it? I remember you. You're all very welcome. Would you like some booze? It's not really proper booze of course, it's fermented pijtaal juice, but it's jolly nice and packs a punch as they say. Goodness, what fun!' And she gazed at them with the satisfaction of an ambitious hostess who has completed her guest-list, whilst everyone else stood and smiled politely as if waiting to be introduced.
Unhurriedly, Charles now rose from his throne and strolled over to stand beside her, one hand nonchalantly in his pocket.
'Bunty Fairweather,'
sighed Freddy. 'I really should have guessed.'
'Queen-Goddess Chopminta Haalijsu to you, old man,' said Charles.
'Now then darling,' chided the Queen-Goddess, 'I'm still Bunty to my friends. Ah, I know who this is! You're Daphne's mummy, aren't you? You absolutely couldn't be anyone else! I'm so pleased to meet you! I wish my mummy had been as beautiful and elegant but I regret to say she was an ugly, wicked old cat. I don't miss her one little bit and I shouldn't think anyone else does either! Daphne, I'm just so sorry you've been put to so much trouble. I don't know what to say really, except it's all Uncle Nig's fault. I told him we could work something out but he simply would not listen. He can be a proper little devil when he wants to be. It's almost as if he thinks he should be in charge here and not me! He made Charles try and get you away from Torris Verga, even though he was so tired and ill from being lost in the jungle and everything, poor lamb. And when that didn't work, he said he'd just have to destroy the place and kill you all, which was horrid. We kept on and on at him to leave you alone – didn't we Charlie? – but he just wouldn't listen, even though I'm the Queen, for goodness' sake.
'Anyway, it doesn't matter now because you're here and he's not! Weren't we clever? And you'll be very pleased to hear that Charles and I have talked it over and we've decided to abdicate. Yes! You see, I never really wanted to be Queen anyway, and Venus is just positively mediaeval compared with Earth – they haven't even got proper toilets or anything – so as you have the Mark, properly I mean, and are obviously eager to take over, we're going to leave you to it. It just happens that I have an absolutely darling little ship of my own, very fast, and as soon as you've met everyone we're going to push off back home in it. What do you think? Isn't that an absolutely wonderful idea?'
Wilfred glanced at Veleema, whose face was a picture. He could see that she was struggling to frame a suitable reply, but anything she might have said was lost in a mighty blare of trumpets.
'What on earth?' frowned Bunty, swinging round. 'I didn't order that.'
An elderly man in traditional Venusian robes appeared.
'Prostrate yourselves before Her Most Excellent Majesty the Queen-Goddess Chopminta Haalijsu,' he cried in a high, quavering voice. 'All thaalid to leave on pain of death.'
'But I'm already here you old fool!' protested Bunty, pointing at herself. 'Look — Queen!'
Nevertheless, there was an urgent rush of servants for the door, and every one of Bunty's guests prudently threw themselves to the ground.
Bunty turned in consternation to Charles. 'You don't think . . . ?'
'Come on,' said Charles, grabbing her hand. 'Time to bale out.'
But they were too late. Heavily armed ishtaarid now appeared on all sides, preventing any possibility of escape. At the same time, a small procession of dignitaries, also formally robed, entered from behind the dais. Most were in purple but three wore yellow, including, Wilfred was surprised to see, their long-lost Tuuntu Haramu. With him was the presumed Yellow Migraani, dutifully followed by her tuun.
'Down, if you want to live!' hissed someone and the Earthlings reluctantly joined the others on the floor. Only Bunty, Veleema and Daphne remained standing.
There was some shuffling and muttering from the vicinity of the throne and eventually the ancient courtier said, 'You may rise.'
Scrambling to his feet, Wilfred discovered a genial-looking woman of sixty or so, wearing a similar costume to Daphne's "goddessing" outfit, if to rather different effect. She was obscenely fat, her sagging and corrugated flesh all but concealing an indifferent copy of the holy Mark. Indeed, as Agnes had foretold, it was scarcely more than some indistinct red smears, suggesting that she little cared whether it looked authentic or not. There was complete silence in the room as supported by a couple of equally scantily-clad young men she waddled awkwardly to the throne and was helped, with a good deal of fuss, to settle herself upon it. Someone fluffed out her faded red hair into something resembling the Voorni's traditional halo, another tidied her skirts, and a large bowl of sweetmeats was placed in her hands. She immediately dipped into it.
'Mummy?' said Bunty wonderingly. 'But you're dead!'
'You have forgotten, my dear,' said the Queen. 'The Voorni never dies. It is unfortunate that your friends must pay the price.' She turned to gaze about her, sadly shaking her head as she recognised one or another of the now terrified-looking party guests. 'Baando Saminas, I'm surprised at you! And lovely Tijraana. How ashamed your poor mother would be. And Saanto! What were you thinking of to be led so much astray? You all condemn yourselves by your very presence at this treasonous gathering, and further evidence would be superfluous. There can only be one penalty, as we are sure you know, and it quite puts us off our dinner to think of it. However, regret is pointless; one cannot unwind time, and it falls to us to deal with matters as they stand.'
Here she broke off to select, after some deliberation, another exotic confection, shoving the whole thing in her mouth at once. Wilfred noticed that she had only a few blackened stumps of teeth. God help us, he thought, they haven't even got dentists.
'You will, of course, have an opportunity to defend yourselves, should you wish,' continued the Queen, if somewhat indistinctly. 'That is the law. However, to sit in judgement on so many of you would be irksome in the extreme, so to help things along we have decided to offer those who plead guilty a commutation of sentence. They shall go, not to the tree, as would normally be the case, but to the garotte. We hope you will agree this is a most generous inducement, and since all is prepared, we may as well begin. Now, who is to be first? Any volunteers?'
But no-one responded, even to protest at the manifest injustice of the charge, and her previously benign expression began to grow impatient until a small clink was heard from beneath the abandoned buffet table. A wineglass rolled into view, pursued on his knees by a terrified thaal.
'Ah, thank you!' chuckled the Queen. 'From a rather unexpected quarter, but no less welcome for that. Ladies and gentlemen, this lowly creature puts you to shame. He does not waste our valuable time with pointless appeals and procrastination but comes boldly forward to accept his punishment. We urge you to follow his example. Take him away.'
The luckless servant stutteringly attempted to speak, but a pair of ishtaarid swiftly appeared, forced a leather guard over his muzzle and half-dragged, half-carried him to an unseen area behind the throne, where some unpleasant noises suggested the sentence was being summarily carried out.
Still munching, the Queen waited until the thaal fell silent. 'Now, who shall be next? Can we interest no-one in such a swift and relatively painless end? To refuse seems frankly perverse, considering the alternative. Come along now, we haven't got all day. No takers? My goodness! We begin to sound like some Haki huckster, peddling his wares. Very well, we will leave you to ponder your options and turn to the prime cause of this disagreeable business. Arraigned before us is rebel leader and attempted regicide, Veleema Borsu, Migraani of the Blue and sometime tantulaar; who, we note, chooses not to prostrate herself before her monarch. Perhaps she feels herself too grand for that these days? And this, we presume, is our bastard niece. Step forward, young lady.'
Glancing uncertainly at Veleema, Daphne approached the throne as if hypnotised until she stood directly before it.
'Well, you have the family look about you, skinny though you are,' said the Queen. 'We can see our brother in you right enough, may his bones blush with shame. Lean forward, if you please.' And reaching out, she tore vigorously at Daphne's blouse, the buttons flying in all directions.
'As we expected: a tattoo. Shame on she who thus defiles an innocent child! You have been cruelly deceived, my dear — there is only one Voorni and she sits upon this throne. Your mother's plan was a clever one, but she should have chosen her allies more carefully.'
Abruptly she turned to one of her young men. 'What are we eating? It's rather good.'
'It is sugared ortaal, Voorni. Stuffed with cream of tantipijn.'
&nb
sp; The Queen smiled at him beneficently. 'Thank you, my dear. You said that very prettily. Perhaps you will remind us of your name?'
'Raado, Voorni.'
'Well, you are a good boy, Raado. Come to us later and you shall be suitably rewarded. See that you've washed. Now, what are we going to do with these naughty girls, eh? The pair of them have put us to an unconscionable amount of trouble, for not only have we been obliged to skulk in secrecy in our own palace whilst the planet falls into anarchy and ruin, but due to their absurd and pointless uprising we have lost no fewer than five irreplaceable ships and as many more damaged, not to mention the decimation of our best regiment. What is the punishment that will fit such a heinous crime? Clearly the jalaapa is insufficient. Death comes too soon, and it would not in any case be appropriate for women of noble birth, which they unfortunately are. We believe we shall send them to Iyx, where they can spend the rest of their lives contemplating their wickedness.'
The silence was now even more profound, if that were possible, than before. It was as if everyone had stopped breathing. The Migraani looked about to faint away, and Simms and the Professor hastened to support her. What the Devil is Iyx, wondered Wilfred, that it should elicit such a response in his brave and proud Veleema? He had never knowingly smelled fear, but the air was heavy with it now. No doubt Bunty's fellow conspirators realised there was to be no escape. Their fate was sealed, and only the nature of it remained undecided. At massive cost in men and machines, this dreadful old woman had not only captured her rival for the throne but flushed out in a body those who supported her successor. Nor was she likely to overlook those migraaniid that had conspired against the Purple House. It was game, set and match all right, but it was she, not Daphne, who was the winner. His hand went to the little ray-pistol that still nestled in his pocket. It would be the easiest thing to kill her where she sat and end this nonsense now, but how long would any of them survive thereafter? The risk was impossible to calculate. He decided to wait.
Storm on Venus Page 27
