"What makes you so gloomy?" said Tangaloa. "You weren't this way when you set out before, though you were running a worse risk."
"Oh, am I? It's not the fighting."
"What then?"
"Hollow, hollow, all delight."
"I know, you're in love!"
"Uh-huh," Barnevelt admitted.
"Well, what's that to be sad about? I have always found it fun."
"I've said good-bye forever to her."
"Why?"
"She had the idea I'd make a good consort. And…" Barnevelt struck his neck with the edge of his hand.
"I had forgot that angle. It could have been arranged."
"It was arranged! That was what I objected to."
"No, no. I mean if you played your cards right you could overthrow the matriarchy and end the custom. It is not a really stable set-up, the one they have in Qirib."
"You mean because the males are bigger than the females, as among us?"
"Not exactly, though that helps. Ahem. I meant this female-dominated society didn't grow naturally, but was suddenly imposed upon a different culture pattern as a result of a couple of historical accidents* The people's basic cultural attitudes are still those of the surrounding Krishnan states, where the pattern is approximate sexual equality."
"I see. It is the little rift within the lute, that by and by will make the music mute."
"Precisely. Now in Nyamadze, on the other hand, I understand that…"
"Haven't the people's—uh—basic cultural patterns changed since Queen Dejanai set up the matriarchate?"
"No. That will take centuries yet. You see, most people get their basic cultural attitudes before they reach school age and never change them thereafter. That is why on Earth there are still traces of racial hostility and discrimination in spots, after all the good-will propaganda and legal measures of the last few centuries. And apparently culture patterns are transmitted on Krishna in the same way. So if you want to break up this pattern of basilophagous gynecocracy before it hardens…"
"Of what?" said Barnevelt.
"Sorry, bod, I forgot this isn't a meeting of the Anthropological Association. This pattern of king-eating petticoat rule, I should have said, can be overthrown by a resolute man, and you will have all the advantages—an inside position, a hero's prestige…"
Barnevelt shook his head. "I'm a quiet sort of guy and don't care for the fierce light which beats upon the throne and blackens every blot."
"Oh, nonsense, Dirk. You love leadership. I have been watching you."
"Well, I don't intend to put my head in that particular noose so long as the queen uses that Unbridled Lust perfume to keep the men subdued. Anyway there are my obligations to the firm."
"True—I'd forgot Igor Shtain, Limited. Couldn't you persuade the sheila to chuck her job? Then you wouldn't have to be consort."
"Matter of fact she's already offered to. She'd have gone back to Earth with me."
"For God's sake, why didn't you take her up on it?" said Tangaloa. "She's a bonzer little squid. I shouldn't mind a bit of a smoodge with her myself."
"She's a Krishnan, dammit!"
"So what? Relations are possible despite—or is there some rule in Deuteronomy against it?"
"It's not that. We're not interfertile."
"So much the better. One need not worry about…"
"But that's not what I want!"
"You mean you want a lot of little Dirks running around? As if one were not enough?"
"Ayuh," said Barnevelt.
"A sentimental yearning for vicarious immortality, eh?"
"Not at all. I prefer a stable family life, and poor old sex alone won't give you that."
"Ha ha," said Tangaloa. "What was that thing you were quoting to Castanhoso about loathing the bright dishonor of her love? You're still full of irrational inhibitions, my boy. We Polynesians have found…"
"I know. Your system of progressive polygamy may be all right for you, but I'm not built that way. So no egg-laying princesses need apply."
"A bigoted, race-conscious attitude."
"I don't care, it's my attitude. Good thing this expedition came along to separate us, or I should never have had the will power to leave her."
"Oh, well, it's your life." Tangaloa wiped his forehead.
"This is hotter than the Northern Territory of Australia in January."
"South wind," said Barnevelt. "It'll make it tough for us all the way to the Sunqar."
"We ought to do like those blokes from Darya. As soon as we were out of Damovang Harbor they reverted to their native costume, a coat of grease, and now they just leave the grease off."
CHAPTER TEN
At last the Sunqar appeared again upon the hazy horizon. Barnevelt, beginning to feel as if he knew these waters well, gave the course for the northwest coast of the floating island where lay the entrance to the pirate settlement.
A glider returned to the Kumanisht with word, passed on to the Junsar by flag signals, that a ship was coming out to meet them. The ship itself followed hard upon the word of its coming. As she approached, she furled her sails and headed straight for the Junsar, both slowing until they rested motionless with bows almost touching. The green truce pennon flew from the pirate's mainmast.
"Who be ye and what do ye here?" came a rasping voice in the Qiribo dialect from the bow of the Sunqaro ship.
Barnevelt told the herald with the megaphone beside him: "Tell him we're the allied navies of the Sadabao Sea, come to clean out the Sunqar."
"Clean us out!" came the yell from the other ship. "We'll teach you…" the spokesman for the Morya Sunqaruma mastered himself with an almost audible effort. "Have ye terms to present ere the hand play begins?"
"If you surrender we'll guarantee your lives, but nothing more—not your liberty or property."
"Very kind, ha ha! I go to carry your generous offer to our chiefs."
The Sunqaro galley backed oars until she was several lengths away before turning; her captain evidently did not care to expose his vulnerable side to a hostile ram at close quarters, truce or no truce. Then the pirate's oars thumped and splashed furiously as the ship raced for the entrance to the weed.
The Junsar started to follow at a leisurely pace to give the Sunqaruma a fair chance to consider the ultimatum. Then Barnevelt became aware of another rapid thumping on his left as Queen Alvandi's Douri Dejanai foamed past in pursuit of the pirate.
"Hey there!" Barnevelt called across the water. "Stay back in line!"
Back came the queen's hoarse bawl, "That's Gizil the Saddler who served as herald! I'll sink his ship and…"
"Who's Gizil the Saddler?"
"A saucy runagate from Qirib and a notorious fomenter of discontent among our males! We'd have hanged the losel but that when he heard there was a warrant out for him he fled. He shan't escape us this time!"
"Get back in line," said Barnevelt.
"But Gizil will escape!"
"Let him."
"That I'll not! Who think you you are, to command the Queen of Qirib?"
"I'm your commander-in-chief, that's who. Now stop where you are, or by Qondyor's toenails I'll sink you myself!"
"You'd never dare! Faster, boys!"
"Oh, no?" Barnevelt turned to Tangaloa and said, "Pass the word: Full speed ahead—load the forward catapult-secure to ram."
Although the Douri Dejanai had drawn ahead of the Junsar during this exchange of unpleasantries, the larger ship soon overhauled the smaller.
Barnevelt said, "Fire one shot over her poop. Try not to hit anything."
Whang! went the catapult. The great arrow as long as a man screeched across the narrow space between the two ships. Barnevelt had intended to miss the queen by a comfortable margin. However, whether because the target was too tempting or because the motion of the ship affected the crew's aim, the point of the missile struck Alvandi's cloak, ripped the garment from her shoulders, and bore it fluttering far out into the sea, where missile and cloak
disappeared with a single splash. The queen spun and sprawled on the deck. One of her Amazons rushed to help her up.
She stopped her ship's oars, then shook a fist at the Junsar. Barnevelt saw grins everywhere, for Queen Alvandi's highhandedness was notorious even in a fleet whose leaders included such uninhibited individualists as Prince Ferrian of Sotaspe. Thereafter there was no more disobedience to Barne-velt's orders.
Me and Napoleon! he thought. If they only knew who he really was…
As they neared the Sunqar, the patches of terpahla became commoner until they occasionally fouled an oar. Through a long brass Krishnan telescope, Barnevelt saw that the ship that had met them was the one that stood guard at the entrance. This ship had resumed her former position and was pulling the detached floating mass of terpahla into the mouth of the entrance. Meanwhile a longboat was rowing up the channel.
The Sunqaruma were standing on the defensive. Barnevelt passed the word: "Carry out Plan Two."
With much signaling and trumpeting, the fleet changed formation. Two groups of ships that had been modified from regular galleys to troop carriers by cutting down their oarage drew off on the flanks, while Barnevelt in the Junsar led the Majburo squadron straight for the plug that blocked the channel into the Sunqar.
The pirate galley still stood guard inside the channel, a tackle of ropes connecting her with the plug. Beyond her, other ships moved about the channel.
Barnevelt wondered if the Sunqaruma would try a further parley, but then the Junsar's captain pointed out to him the maroon war pennant flapping lazily from the mainmast head of the guard ship.
"There's your answer, my lord," said he.
An instant later a catapult thumped, and lead balls and feathered javelins began to arc across the intervening water. As these got closer they were accompanied by arrows and crossbow bolts. Under the Junsar's captain's directions, some men of the crew rigged a bulwark of shields around the bow so that Barnevelt and the others could watch more safely.
"Shall we shoot?" said the captain.
"Not so long as they're kind enough to do our ranging for us," said Barnevelt.
He swung his telescope, trying to see if the squadrons were following the plan, though with the haze that the warm wind had brought he could do almost as well with his naked eyes.
A missile plunked into the water between the Junsar and her starboard neighbor. "Shoot," said Barnevelt, and the catapults on the bows of the Majburo squadron went off.
Things began to hit the bulwark of shields with resounding bangs. Aft, a crash and an outburst of yells told that the defenders' fire had gotten home.
Barnevelt, peering over his breastwork, found that only the plug of weed and a few meters of open water separated him from the galley that guarded the portal. This galley shot fast, things going overhead with a continuous swish and hum. Four Majburo galleys had come up to the plug and were shooting back, though being end-on they could only use their forward catapults, and there was not much room for archers to deploy on their forecastles.
Men scrambled down the bows of the attackers onto the rams with hooks and rakes, dug these into the terpahla, and pulled up streamers of the golden-brown slimy stuff with its purple floats. These they passed up to others above them in an effort to get a firm grip on the plug. In front of Barnevelt a man gaffing the sea vine was transfixed by a shaft and fell into the water. Another took his place.
A prolonged swish overhead made Barnevelt look up. It was one of Ferrian's gliders making a sweep over the enemy, its rockets leaving a trail of the yellow smoke of yasuvar powder. As it passed over the guardship, something like rain fell from it. Barnevelt knew that this was a handful of steel darts, of which Prince Ferrian had prepared great numbers for his aviators.
Another glider went on to the main settlement, where it dropped something. There was a burst of smoke and the sound of exploding fireworks, though Barnevelt could not see whether these pyrotechnics had done any real damage.
Bang! A leaden shot from a hostile catapult smashed through the bulwark, two shields away from Barnevelt, and went rolling along the forecastle like a bowling ball. A couple of men struggled to replace the broken shield. Below, other men were lying in the water among the vines. Barnevelt saw one of them jerk in a peculiar fashion and caught a flash of spotted hide. Drawn by the blood, the fondaqa or venomous eels were gathering.
A Majburo galley had belayed a number of strands of sea vine to its decks and began to back oars; but, as the tension increased, the vines broke one by -one until none was left. Another glider hissed overhead. As it passed over the guard-ship, a spray of missiles reached up ineffectively for it.
"My lord Snyol!" cried the Junsar's captain. "Here comes Prince Ferrian."
Barnevelt ran aft just as Ferrian, slim and swarthy, popped over the stern, the sun gleaming on his damascened armor. Below, the crew of the longboat that had rowed him over from the Kumanisht rested on their oars under the Junsar's stern.
Ferrian took a few seconds to get his breath back, then said: "A strange fleet nears from the North, my lord. One of my fliers saw it from his height."
"What sort of fleet?"
"We know not yet, but I've dispatched another glider to see."
"Who's it likely to be? King Rostamb, ashamed of himself, come to help us?"
"All things are possible, but more likely, 'tis the fleet of Dur, come to save their piratical friends."
Dur! Barnevelt had not thought of that possibility. Up forward, the racket of the fire fight with the Sunqaruma continued.
He said, "I'll go back to the Kumanisht with you to see about this. Carry on here," he told Tangaloa. "Send out a signal for the troop ships not to disembark their ski troops until further notice."
It would hardly do, he thought as he climbed down the rope ladder into the longboat, to be attacked from the seaward side in the midst of that delicate operation.
Aboard the carrier he fidgeted on the flight deck, ducking out of the way during glider operations. Finally the glider that had been sent north to scout came back, drifting in with butterfly grace until seized by the deck crew.
The aviator climbed out, saying, "Another quarter-hour and I should have been in the sea for want of fuel. My lords, the approaching fleet's indeed that of Dur, as could be ascertained from their sails, cut square in the fashion of the stormy Va'andao."
"How many?" asked Ferrian.
"I counted fourteen of their great ships, plus perhaps an equal number of small craft."
Barnevelt calculated. "If we can keep the Sunqaruma bottled up, that should leave us a margin to deal with Dur."
"You know not the great ships of Dur," retorted Ferrian. "Their biggest galleys are manned by nearly a thousand men, and one of those could destroy a squadron of ours as a man treads bugs under heel. With due respect, therefore, my lord, let's see a demonstration of this preternatural resourcefulness whereof Alvandi told us, lest the setting sun illumine the un-joyous spectacle of you, me, and all our brave people furnishing food for the fondaqa. What, sir, do you command?"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Food for the fondaqa? Barnevelt pondered, his long chin in his hand. Maybe two could play at that game.
"Tell me," he said. "For nearly an hour your gliders have been dropping things on the Sunqaruma without effect…"
Ferrian replied hotly, "My gliders are the greatest military invention since Qara smote the dames of Varzeni-Ganderan with his magic staff! They'll make us as fearsomely puissant in the arts of Qondyor as the damned Earthmen! But as you say," (he calmed down) "they're not fully perfected. What would you do?"
"How much load do they carry?"
"For a short flight, the equivalent of one man besides the pilot. What's in your mind?"
"We have a lot of water jars in the supply ships. If we dumped half or two-thirds of the water out, they'd weigh about as much as a man—at least the smaller…"
"But wherefore a bombardment of water jars? Though you yerk the nob of one or two f
oes…"
"But if the jars were full of fondaqa?"
"Hao, now speak you sooth!" cried Ferrian. "We'll cut up the cadavers of the fallen for bait and use those hooks wherewith your sturdy Majburuma seek to claw apart the sea vine… Captain Zair, more ship's boats! Our admiral has an order for the fleet! Yare, yare!"
"But, my lords!" cried Captain Zair with an expression of horror. "The men mortally fear these creatures, and with good reason!"
Barnevelt took a hitch in his mental pants. "Oh, foof! I'm not afraid of them. Get me a thick leather jacket and a pair of gauntlets and I'll demonstrate."
As usual, once he had grasped the basic idea, Prince Ferrian took the bit in his teeth and ran away with it. He rushed about, haranguing everybody to break out fishing tackle, to bend the heads of spears for gaffs, and to get the order to the rest of the fleet.
All this took time. First Barnevelt had to demonstrate how to handle a fondaq without getting bitten, thanking the gods for his experience with Earthly sharks and eels. By the time the crews of the ships along the edges of the weed were hooking, gaffing, and spearing the wriggling, snapping monsters and popping them into water jars, another glider returned to report that the Dura fleet would soon be in sight.
Barnevelt glanced at the high, hot sun. "With this south wind," he told Ferrian, "we should have another hour to get organized. I'm going to divide the fleet and put you in charge of the part sent against the Duruma."
Seeing Ferrian's antennae rise quizzically he added, "Our main weapon against them will be the gliders, which you understand better than anyone. I'm going back to the Junsar because I think when the pirates see most of the fleet going off, they'll try a sortie." He turned to the skipper of the Kumanisht. "Captain Zair, signal all admirals to come here."
A longboat loaded with jars pulled up under the stern of the Kumanisht, the coxswain chanting, "Fish for sale! Nice fresh fish for sale! One bite and ye're a dead carcass!"
The sailors fell to work transferring the jars to the carrier. One of the smaller ships pulled alongside with another load of amphorae. The rows of jars along the flight deck began to grow.
The Hand of Zei Page 7
