by Larry Niven
They were on the other side of the mountain now, heading into a wooded area filled with clumps of disturbingly twisted trees. They seemed to be on a plateau, and Alex watched Lady Janet point to another range of mountains beyond, and saw Chester smile.
One tree stood apart from the others, its branches spreading in all directions for a radius of a dozen meters. Looking at it, seeing the unhealthy brown of its mottled limbs and the manner in which its roots crawled snakelike along the ground before burying themselves, Griffin felt fear again.
Chester stopped the group with a raised hand, and walked toward the tree a few paces. He studied it carefully, then came back. "S.J.," he said brusquely, "I think that this one is for you. We've got Cargo."
"Subsonics," S.J. nodded. "I can feel it. Okay, we've been lured and warned. How do we handle it?"
"I'm not sure..." Chester was watching the tree with a practiced eye. "The Cargo won't be buried under the tree. That would be too much like last time..." He watched the branches
swaying in the wind. "Wait a minute. The air currents here aren't strong enough to move the tree that much."
"Look at the shadow, Chester." S.J. pointed.
The tree's shadow was behaving even more strangely. It weaved, out of synch with the movements of the tree. The shadow-branches strained out, spectral fingers pointing towards.
"The caim of rocks." About twenty meters from the tree stood a pyramidal pile of large stones.
"S.J., Margie, Eames and Griffin. Come with me. The rest of you, stay back."
The quintet of Garners walked slowly to the pile. Chester halted them, and walked forward and around in a wide circle. At one point he stopped, backed up a bit, then turned and came back to them. "All right. 5.1., you and Eames take the far side. Margie, you and Griffin work this side. Let's get some of these rocks cleared away so we can see what we've got."
Alex thought he saw a guilty wince crease Chester's face when S.J. answered with a perky, "Yes, chief!" and bounded around to the far side. Something wrong here...#8226; but what? Alex bent to the job of clearing the rocks. Margie, as an Engineer, had to help supervise, but at her age she could scarcely be expected to move the small boulders herself.
He grunted, rolling away a stone. "What do you think of. • ." He heaved another aside. "... of this Game? I mean, so far?"
"Heavens. I've hardly had a chance to get into it. I'm hoping that I have a chance to rig something really interesting before too much longer."
"Don't you get points for everything you do in the Game?"
"Of course, but it's more fun to do something elaborate. Besides, the Garners vote for bonus points at the end, so it never hurts to be flashy."
Chester's voice cut in on them. "Don't worry, Margie. You'll have plenty of opportunity to show your stuff."
"I certainly hope so, dear." She stepped around toward the other side of the five-foot heap. "S.J.? How are you-?"
Chester moved quickly around to intercept her. "Let's keep our teams divided until-" Griffin watched, suspicion chewing at his nerves. Margie ignored Chester and walked smoothly around him to the other side. Chester took another step, turning. His legs were crossed when a rock rolled under his feet. As he stumbled, he grabbed at one of the rocks on S.J.'s side-
From his angle, Griffin saw only a small white snake with red and yellow trim slide out of the pile. Chester's face went slack and pale as he saw it, and paler still as it expanded its hood and reared back hissing. "Kill it!" Henderson whispered in a ghastly quiet voice, his eyes riveted on the reptile.
Alex hurled a stone at it. The snake disappeared.
"Damn." Chester said it with intense feeling. His face, already pale, had taken on a yellowish cast. "Oh, shit."
Margie helped him to his feet. "What is it, dear? The snake didn't touch you, did it?"
"It didn't need to. Oh no..." He seemed dazed and disoriented. Gina had broken away from the rest of the Garners and was beside him, steadying him. "Don't you see?" He spread his arms wide. There was a pale yellow glow all around him. "That was a bidi-taurabo-haza. I'm dead, Margie. I'm walking dead."
By now the mass of Garners had broken ranks and were grouped around him. Acacia pulled Alex to the side. "Did you see what happened? Why the hell didn't he scan that pile for danger?" Griffin lowered his voice. "He knew it was there. He tried to kill S.J. and Eames out of the Game. He got caught himself. Rough justice."
"Whew. So Chester finally got caught." A leashed chuckle. "I wonder how he'll get out of it?"
Gwen stood by the rock pile, concentrating with her eyes closed. Her aura glowed around her, then spread to envelop the heap. It too glowed white, fading as Gwen opened her eyes. She glanced around at Chester. "It's clean now."
"Great." He crooked a finger impatiently at the rest of the group. "All right, let's see what we have here." He motioned Gwen and Owen to his side. "Pool your strengths. Do you think you can save me?"
The two Clerics meshed aura for a few moments, then shook their heads. The older man clasped Chester on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Ches. It's too strong for us."
The king was dying. Was that check, or mate? Griffin asked, "What does that do to us? Is the Game over?"
Chester flagged a hand impatiently. "No. Something that deadly, that struck without warning? And even worse, a snake? Not after the hell I raised about the snow vipers, he's too eager for a clean kill. No..." Henderson's gaze unfocussed, and he scratched his side reflectively with a bony thumb. "No, I think our
Mr. Lopez has prepared a way out for me. He's having another of his little jokes."
Bright red hair streaked with dust, and one slender arm scraped from wrist to elbow: Gina had moved a good many rocks very quickly. "We're almost finished, hon." She picked up her power staff and brushed it off. "What happens next?"
"We wait and see, Gina." The Lore Master reached out an unsteady hand for her, and when she took it he pressed it desperately hard against his cheek.
He looks like he thinks he's dying, Griffin thought. He looks like he is dying. How can he let a game do this to him?
As the rocks were pried loose or rolled away, three wooden boxes surfaced. Faded stencilled letters showed, and the Garners began to laugh.
Chester walked over to the others and, in spite of himself, began to smile. Still partially covered by pebbles and dirt, there lay three battered cases of Coca-Cola.
"Well, children, this is our way out," Chester said. "I hope." He motioned to Kasan, and the guide jogged up without hesitation.
"Yes, oh dying bwana?"
"Are your Cargo gods strong enough to save me from this disease?"
"Oh, most assuredly, Mr. Henderson. The only real concern is what the gods may want of you in return for your life."
Chester seemed only mildly surprised. "You mean the undertaking of the quest is not enough?"
"Oh, no. You do it more for the sake of other Europeans than you do for us simple island folk."
"All right. Scan these boxes, ah... Owen and Bowan. We don't want any more screw ups just yet."
The pile glowed white and green, with no hint of red. Chester said, "Open them."
Margie produced a slender crowbar and, with an economy of movement that was delightful to the eye, she levered slats from a box. S.J. and Oliver attacked the others.
Each box contained twenty wasp-wasted bottles of caramelcolored fluid. Warm.
"All right. We're going to have to appeal to the gods of Cargo. That means we need to be as high and holy as possible. For this group, I'm afraid that means about three bottles each."
Kasan held up his hands. "Ah... none for me, bwana. You can count me out of this one."
Kibugonai deferred also, as did Lady Janet. "I'm allergic to caffeine," she said sweetly.
Chester sighed. "Then it's four bottles each. Let's get started."
Griffin sat cross-legged next to Acacia in the semicircle. Gwen and Owen were at the hub, the opened boxes of Coca-Cola at their sides.
>
"Hear us, Jesus-Manup. Hear us, God-Kilibob. Hear and observe," they intoned slowly. Gwen opened a bottle and passed it to Owen. Owen gave it to Alan Leigh, Leigh passed it to Mary-em; it passed down the line until it reached Chester at the far end. Gwen continued opening bottles until all held twelve-ounce containers of lukewarm cola.
"We accept this thy sacred fluid into our bodies in thy names. .
Griffin gagged it down. "I don't like soda pop," he whispered to Acacia. "I don't drink this junk."
"Shut up and glug," she whispered back, not bothering to hide her grin. "You've got to."
Griffin finished his, and passed another bottle along. "What if I have diabetes?"
"Then you can have your implant adjusted after the Game. Drink," she commanded. Ollie handed him his next twelve ounces.
Griffin drained it, stifling a heartfelt belch. Then he reconsidered and eructated with vigor. The echoes were fearsome; they seemed to go on forever, down the line and back up.
After the fourth round, moans could be heard from all corners. Tony looked green and had hiccoughs. Alex sympathized wholeheartedly.
"Who's ready for lunch?" Mary-em's question raised a chorus of vile suggestions.
Owen and Gwen finished their drinks, and sat amid a heap of empty bottles. "We are ready. Hear us, oh gods-" The air above the entire group began to shimmer with electric white. Owen lowered his voice. "All join hands, please."
Owen and Gwen faced each other, interlocking fingers as they closed their eyes.
The aura jumped and crackled, a bird's nest woven of lightning.
The air sizzled with power. Griffin squinted against the glare. His skin crawled. The ground itself trembled.
A thunderous voice split their ears, a sound that echoed to the far mountains and back. "Yes, my children," the voice said with tremendous deliberation, each word rounded and perfectly enunciated. "I know what you wish of us. Yes, your leader may be saved. He shall pick five among you, quick-witted and wise, to compete for his life. i~ you win, his life will be returned to him. If not..."
The voice faded away, and the dancing glow lifted.
Chester definitely looked more yellowish. He rose unsteadily to his feet. "Leigh, Acacia, Oliver, Gina, and... Griffin." He gazed at Alex speculatively. "Something tells me that you might answer questions as well as you ask them."
Confusion ran unmasked on Alex's face. "Questions?"
Acacia took his arm comfortingly. "Don't worry. I think you'll do fine."
The sky rumbled above them, and clouds began to mass. Like soapsuds floating in a whirlpool, they swirled together, directly in front of the sun, eclipsing it. Darkness fell, and stars glowed above them. Then it seemed that the very fabric of space was twisting and torqueing, tortured by forces beyond imagination. The stars were rippled aside as the sky tore open. Soft, pale blue light pulsed beyond the edges.
From the region beyond the sky came a tiny shadow that growled noisily, growing larger by the second. Now it was plainly visible, an olive-drab Army-issue helicopter with its engine at full throttle. It hovered above them, then set down on the grass twenty meters away. A dark man in a smart white uniform hopped from the door and ran to them carrying a clipboard.
He saluted Chester smartly. "Mr. Henderson? I believe that your representatives are ready?"
"Yes," he said, looking warily at the helicopter. "Where are you taking them?"
"To heaven, sir."
Chester pointed. "In that?"
"Surplus cargo, sir. We don't waste anything. And now, if your people are ready? Yali is waiting."
"Yali? Who is Yali?"
The man with the clipboard clucked disapprovingly. "He is your intermediary. Certainly you don't think you can get an ap
pointment with God on such short notice? Be happy for a chance to speak with His district Manager. Are we ready?"
"One moment." Chester spoke softly and hurriedly to his five representatives. "I remember a little about the New Guinea heaven. It was very European. Don't let that throw you. The important thing is the questions. Good luck."
Gina reached out for his hand, and he took it for a moment, squeezed, then let it fall. "We won't let you down, Chester," she promised. He nodded silently, his grin a lopsided slash.
The Garners followed their host into the helicopter. The door slammed shut, the engine revved, and in a cloud of dust it lifted off and vanished into the wounded sky.
Chester watched the crack seal shut, swallowing them. "Now it's wait," he muttered. "It's just wait."
Chapter Nineteen
NECK RIDDLES
"We will be arriving in Heaven in approximately three minutes," the man with the clipboard said. He had already taken their names down in a precise hand. His name was Gengai.
There was nothing to see but dense blue fog which strobed light. Leigh sat across the aisles from Griffin, elbows balanced on knees and chin balanced on fists. Griffin leaned toward him. "Well? What do you think we're in for?"
"Some kind of test of wits. Neck riddles, probably." "Neck riddles?"
Acacia bumped him on the shoulder with her palm. "Neck riddles. In olden days, a convicted felon was sometimes challenged to answer a series of riddles. If he won, he gained his freedom."
"Sounds like a good deal. What did the local king get out of it?"
"Jollies, mostly. Imagine a poor half-starved and half-flogged-
to-death prisoner standing in chains at the Royal Court riddling for his life. Sometimes the prisoners did have something to lose. Hanging versus burning, for instance."
"How does that apply to us? It's only Chester's neck on the block this time."
"It's everybody's. Without a Lore Master to lead us, we don't stand much of a chance. Lopez knows that, and he knows we know it, and believe me, he'll take advantage of it."
The blue fog cleared, and there were white clouds above and ahead of them. One billowing cloudscape bore a classically boxy-looking two-story house. As they "climbed" to the level of the cloud Griffin felt his load of Coca-Cola become buoyant, and knew that the copter was actually losing altitude.
They landed. The door swung down for them. The five Garners stepped down into knee-high white fog. The surface underfoot was spongy. The house nearby had white clay shingles and bamboo shades on its windows.
Strains of vaguely martial music drifted from within. Griffin recognized the overture to Bizet's Carmen. He hummed along, wondering where the insanity would end.
At the door they were greeted by a European manservant in coat and tails, who bid them enter with Old World formality. Gengai led them through a narrow hallway plush with white carpeting. Not a stick of furniture marred the path, so that when their guide turned left into an open doorway, Griffin was unprepared for what he saw.
The room was opulent. The ceiling was lost in distance; the walls seemed to go up forever. Two of the four walls were covered in bookshelves, a third wall was an enormous world map. The fourth was hung with reproductions of classic works of art. Griffin recognized a Picasso, two Dalis, a Frazetta. Frazetta? Well, why shouldn't God borrow from the future to decorate his rooms? But the paintings didn't really complement each other.
The room was furnished with wrought iron chairs interwoven with wicker and padded with leather. The total effect was fabulous and slightly off-center, as if the designer was only partially familiar with the culture he was imitating.
They took chairs near the center of the room. "I don't like this," Acacia said. "It's too polite. We're supposed to be lulled." Griffin drummed his fingers on the chair's arm. He could pick out titles on the shelves, and they were the same bizarre hodge
podge as the chairs and the paintings. There was a set of Encyclopaedia Britannica next to five years of UFO Quarterly bound into leather volumes. One whole shelf was filled with books in an International Classics series of some sort. Directly below it were paperbacks in plastic envelopes. The effect was mildly disorienting. He should be tr
ying to remember riddles. He couldn't. As a child he had never been tempted by riddles.
Footsteps in the doorway. Griffin found himself straightening self-consciously in his seat. He refused to go so far as twisting around to see who was there.
"Good afternoon." The man's voice was cultured, studiedly so. The footsteps came closer, and the figure passed into his peripheral vision and to the wall map. "I trust that it is afternoon on Earth? Ah, good. And your trip was comfortable? Fine, fine."
He was a middle-aged black man, larger and stronger than most New Guinea natives. He wore a tropical shirt and razor-creased white plantation pants. He clasped his hands behind his back and fairly pranced from side to side, personal energy radiating from him like waves of heat
"I am Yali, and I would like to welcome you to Heaven. I hope you will enjoy your stay." He laughed heartily, as at a private joke. "Yes, I most certainly hope you do. After all, some of you may stay forever. It is a nice place, actually, one of those infinitely rare situations where one is rewarded commensurately to one's efforts. Surely that is Heaven by any man's definition?" Again the vastly amused guffaw.
"Now that we are all friends, do have lunch with me, won't you?" Yali clapped his hands, and two beautiful dark women haloed in pale auras wheeled in twin carts laden with food.
Oliver ran his tongue lightly over his lips. "I hope this isn't a trick. Suddenly I am famished."
"Me three," Gina echoed.
"No tricks," Yali assured them. "Please. Enjoy."
The two carts locked together, and flaps folded out from the sides to form a buffet... of Spam, canned pineapple, crepes, rice, meat loaf, corned beef, and sliced white bread.
Acacia leaned close to Griffin. "It looks as if this whole place was designed by pulling random pages out of 1950's women's magazines."
"Frightening, isn't it?" Griffin chose a light meal, refused a charitably offered Coca-Cola, and returned to his seat.
