by Anthology
But once Jack Odin and Gunnar managed to stroll down a narrow street without anyone noticing them. It was the cry of the birds that caused them to turn aside into even a narrower one. So they came to a little run-down park that looked old enough to have survived the conquest. Then they saw the scaffoldings. And there were twelve shapes hanging from ropes and meat-hooks. As they neared, a flock of fat revolting-looking birds arose and complained as they fluttered away.
Gunnar and Odin had stood there looking up at the half-dried mummies that swung slowly about and grimaced at the tiny wind that perplexed them. The gibbets were spotted with blood and filth. Flies swarmed about them.
"So," Gunnar remarked. "The leopard does not change his spots. Grim Hagen still gives lessons to these people. And knowing Grim Hagen I would say he is a rough schoolmaster."
They did not stay long. And a guard opened his mouth in surprise when he saw them entering the square from the dark, little street.
* * * * *
Today Grim Hagen had invited them to another conference. Gunnar and Odin dressed carefully. But Gunnar took a last look at harness and sword as he complained: "He wants something. And Grim Hagen can be mean when he doesn't get what he wants. We should have started wrecking this world before we landed. The people would be no worse off. And maybe we could have rid ourselves of a snake. Ato needs a big drink of tiger milk—"
"Oh, quit complaining, little giant. We still have some bargaining power."
"Yes, our swords. This meeting reminds me of the conference that a king once held to decide upon another conference which would decide what the next conference would be about. Bah!"
"Quit worrying. One of us will kill Grim Hagen, sooner or later."
But Gunnar went on with his complaining. "You had better stay close to me, you understand, or you will be hanging from one of Grim Hagen's meat-hooks."
So they went to the conference. All of Ato's men and at least fifty of Grim Hagen's were there. Contrary to Gunnar's prediction, Grim Hagen got to the point at once.
"Kinsmen," he began mockingly. "You may have wondered why I called a truce when I could just as well have destroyed you—"
"That I doubt," Ato answered him. "We have defensive weapons. Even now the guns from our ship are trained upon the city."
Grim Hagen shrugged. "Let us not quibble, Ato. Your father was a quibbler before you."
Ato flushed in anger.
Grim Hagen continued with an apologetic smile. "I'm only joking. But I do know certain things. Your father, Wolden, is a brilliant man, Ato." He bowed slightly as he admitted this. "From time to time, as you hurtled through the star spaces, I picked up scraps of conversation with my instruments. Also, I knew something of what Wolden has been working on all these years."
"Now, you're quibbling," Gunnar jeered. "Get on with your speech, Grim Hagen."
Grim Hagen bowed to the broad-shouldered little man. "Some day, Gunnar, I may have to kill you—"
"Now. Now." Gunnar urged, fairly jumping in rage. "Just the two of us, Grim Hagen. Just the two of us with bare hands—"
"Not yet." Grim Hagen sneered. "Now, I will continue. From what I have learned, it appears that Wolden's work has been a success. It is possible for men to master both time and space. I have mastered space, but time is turning everything to dust and ashes. What good is it to be an old emperor? No better than to be an old herdsman." Again he tossed a sneer in Gunnar's direction—
"That's easy," Gunnar retorted. "The old herdsman sleeps well at night."
"Bah. Who wants to sleep? Please quit interrupting, Gunnar."
"Even before we came to Aldebaran," Hagen went on, "I was in contact with a dying world out there at the edge of space. Those people are desperate. And they are weary of life, having seen too much of it. They have agreed to go with me. Why, this sun and these worlds are piddling trifles. With that invention we could go from sun to sun. Space would be ours to play with—"
"Loki, the Mischief-Maker, running through creation—" Gunnar muttered.
Grim Hagen may not have heard him for he continued in that same desperate, pleading voice. "So here is my proposition, Ato. Give me your father's secret. In return, I give you the treasures, the Old Ship, the prisoners, and even Maya. Is not that complete surrender?" He smiled disarmingly.
* * * * *
Ato stood tall and proud as he answered. His eyes were blazing now, as he saw through Grim Hagen's plan. "So, you thought I would bargain away Wolden's secret, did you? Well, your surmises were wrong. When last I saw him his work was not finished. I know so little about it that I could tell you nothing of any value. But if I did," Ato's voice was trembling in disgust. "If I did, Hagen, would I turn you and your hells' spawn loose upon the stars to perplex them forever?"
Grim Hagen's face was almost blue with rage. "You have said enough. And there are other ways to make you talk. Make these swine prisoners," he screamed.
A dozen knives flashed. A dozen death-tubes were pointed toward Ato and his followers.
But one of Grim Hagen's lieutenants, a Bron who was now silver-haired, intervened. "No, Grim Hagen. They are under truce. The week is not yet up. I will not see you go back on your own word—"
Grim Hagen flamed. "You will die on the hook for this—"
"Maybe so. One thing is certain: I will die. And I can face it. But you can't, can you, Grim Hagen? You would prefer to be some sort of eternal devil, working its fury upon the stars. Now, where is the new thinking that you used to preach? That dream is as old as the incantations beside the cave-fires—"
"Arrest them all," Grim Hagen screamed. "Arrest Rama too," he added with rage.
But the knives and swords were back in their holsters. The guns were lowered. One by one his men filed out of the council room. Grim Hagen's face was so dark that Odin feared a stroke. But with a curse at Ato and Odin, Hagen lifted his chin high and followed his men from the room. Only the one called Rama remained.
"I will do what I can, Ato," he said quietly. "I was nearly fifty when we started this journey. And we lived hard and fast. I am old now. I married one of the slave-girls. We have children. Were it not for that, I would go with you. But I am tired. God, I'm tired—"
He saluted them as he went out the door.
They never saw Rama again.
Chapter 11
Although Gunnar had spent most of the past four days in grumbling and polishing his sword, there had been hours and hours when Odin had not seen him. The little man had a secret, but what it was he would not tell. "For," he said to Odin, "then it would not be my secret. It would be mine and yours, and I would own but half of it. Does a man give half of his flocks away?"
Odin was a bit hurt over his friend's behavior. He even wondered if Gunnar had taken a liking to one of the white-skinned slave-girls—for they were beautiful. Still, that did not seem like Gunnar. But you could never tell. After all, he found himself quoting, there's no fool like an old fool.
Mixed up in this secret was a buckskin bag that Gunnar had brought with him from the ship. When Odin had inquired about it, Gunnar had replied: "Magic. A very old magic."
That too was not like Gunnar. He relied upon his sword, since the Norse gods were usually busy with their own affairs. Those gods ate their rejuvenating apples every day and then went out like healthy boys to see what was happening; and though they meant well they usually were somewhere else when they were needed. Therefore, the use of magic bags and incantations was a lot of foolishness. But here was Gunnar fondling a tightly-drawn buckskin bag as though it held eternity's secrets.
"You ought to get yourself a witch-doctor's mask and a couple of hollowbones to whistle through," Odin had told him scathingly.
"Never mind. Never mind. Old Gunnar will be there when they put out the fire and call the dogs. Now, you stay here in this room, Odin. And don't go looking after any of these slave-girls. They are too pretty. And you are young. After all, there's no fool like a young fool. So don't go wandering off. Just stay here and p
olish your sword and wait until I return. I think my magic will do a great deal this afternoon."
"Touché!" Jack Odin thought as Gunnar departed. "So he's been worrying about me and the girls, has he?"
Odin polished his sword and looked at the paintings. But the entire palace seemed to be whispering. An air of tension hung over it. The halls were quiet, where servants usually were busily going back and forth.
Once he heard shouts and the sound of fighting far off. There was a loud shot and a scream of pain. After that, the unusual quiet returned.
This was the sixth afternoon that he had spent on this enslaved world. Odin did not enjoy it. He tried to make plans to rescue Maya, but he had gone over those same plans many times before. The Taj Mahal was well-guarded. There was an unshaded road that went from the city to it. Also, the road was usually crowded with pilgrims. He never knew whether they went out there in some strong belief that here was a goddess from outer space, or whether they were forced to go. After all, Grim Hagen was clever—
* * * * *
He took a bath and changed clothes. Then Jack Odin read one of those books that Grim Hagen had stolen. It was a first edition of the Rubaiyat, the one with the jeweled peacock cover, and it would have been worth a fortune back home. But here it was just another of Grim Hagen's treasures—it was dusty and neglected, and Odin wondered if he were not the first to take a look at it since Hagen had brought it here.
The windows were dark when Gunnar returned. Jack Odin sat by a single tiny light, and greeted his old friend in a glum and sour fashion. But Gunnar was in a gay mood.
"Look, I told you that my magic would do great tricks. See, the bag is nearly empty." He held the buckskin bag high and it was much thinner than before. "You waited, did you? Good, Nors-King. I had to make sure that no one came here while I was gone."
"Just myself," Odin replied. "Now what—"
"Oh, I told you I had great magic in that bag. You shall see." Gunnar returned to the door, opened it, and led a tall white-skinned slave into the room. A man of about thirty dressed in white uniform with some sort of insignia upon his shoulders. Odin had never bothered to learn the different gradations in Grim Hagen's slave-world.
"This man goes by the name of Piper," Gunnar announced simply.
The man bowed and smiled nervously.
"And he is a Bro-Stoka among the slaves," Gunnar continued.
Odin was about to reply that he didn't give a damn if the man were a colonel or a two star general. But Gunnar hurried on to explain. "A Stoka is a captain of a hundred. But a Bro-Stoka is a captain over ten Stokas and all their men. Not often does one advance so at an early age—"
Gunnar seemed to be buttering up the man for some reason or other so Jack Odin decided to go along. "I have never seen a Bro-Stoka so young," he admitted. This was true, Odin thought, since this was the first Bro-Stoka who had ever been identified to him. And he wondered if maybe Bro-Stoka were not a local term for "Ninety Day Wonder." God knows he had seen too many of them.
* * * * *
Gunnar seated himself comfortably and swung the nearly empty bag to and fro. "Ah, I told you that I carried great magic in the bag. With Piper's help, Maya will be ours before midnight."
Odin's lethargy was gone now. "Gunnar, old friend! What magic was in that bag of yours?"
"The oldest magic in the world. Pieces of gold, diamonds, and rubies. When we left the Nebula I said to myself that if Grim Hagen owned everything here, it was quite possible that many would be eating very little. Knowing Grim Hagen, I said to myself, there will be a mad scramble for money and position. It would be the only kind of a world that Grim Hagen could fashion."
Odin slapped him on the back. "Gunnar, you are a genius, a sheer genius."
"Not at all. When I was a young man I learned such strategy from studying the world above me."
Odin winced.
Gunnar continued. "Well, it has turned out even as I figured. Only more so. When traveling in far countries you should try to learn how the people live, Odin. It is enlightening. I had an old uncle who always said that travel broadens one. It must have, for he weighed nearly two-hundred when he died."
"Please, Gunnar. When will we see Maya—"
"So, I have been working ever since we arrived. A jewel here. A bit of gold there. It is amazing how a diamond can make a man see just what you tell him to see. Much better than ordinary glasses. Then I found Piper here. And Piper is ambitious. Do you know what it costs to become head-man and chief tax-gatherer of a town of five-thousand, Odin?"
"Gunnar, I know nothing of these matters. Tell me about Maya—"
"Well, Piper has been paid. The town will be his if our plan works out tonight. Otherwise, I will twist his neck." And Gunnar paused to scowl at the young man in the white uniform until poor Piper began sweating.
"Many others have been paid. They are to stay away from their posts. They will see nothing and hear nothing at certain times tonight. Here, hand me your book."
* * * * *
Odin obliged and Gunnar produced a ragged bit of pencil and started drawing a map upon the fly-leaf. "Here," he said, "is the city. And here is the river. Now, if you remember, there is a deep bend in the river, and this tomb that Grim Hagen has built is within the bend of the river. There is a good road that goes from the city to the tomb, but it is guarded. The Nebula is on the other side of the bend. So the answer is quite simple. We go up the river. Piper has a boat waiting for us—"
"I have already paid many and have sworn them to silence," Piper interrupted. "But it will be a dangerous business. I would not dare it at all except that it will be five years before I am eligible for tax-gatherer, and the waiting is killing me. A city of my own—"
Piper, Jack Odin gathered, was a very ambitious man.
The boat moved up-river in darkness. There were beacons upon the shore, turning this way and that, but they seemed to be trained a bit high this night.
Once a motor-boat passed them, going at a fast clip, and somebody called out that he saw a shadow over toward the far side of the river. And another voice answered. "You're always seeing things. A log, maybe. Didn't I tell you that I found some money in the street? And aren't we going to have the best meal that money can buy? Do you want to stay here with an empty belly on this cold river all night? Our watch is nearly over. I'm tired. Let's get along—"
Later, some one hailed them from the bank and threatened to shoot if they did not pull in. Then there was a loud scream that died in a weltering gurgle. They heard a splash as something hit the water—and then all was still. They waited. A peculiar little whistle sounded three notes from the darkness.
As though reassured, Piper took up his oars.
"That was the last guard," Gunnar whispered. "It took a ruby the size of a sparrow's egg to get him killed. Oh, well, blame Grim Hagen. He shouldn't have gouged these people so hard—" And then, to Piper: "You're bright enough, I guess, but you don't know how to row a boat. Give me the oars."
He took them and slid them into their hole-pins. "Now, give Gunnar room." He bowed his broad head, leaning forward almost to his toes. Then he dug the oars into the water and straightened up and bent backward like a machine. Noiselessly the oars came up again. He bent forward and dipped them into the river again. And as he worked faster he began to count to himself in a panting whisper: "Huh—huh—huh—huf!"
The boat streaked across the river's surface like a water-bug.
At last they slid into some thick cat-tails. Gunnar got a hand-hold and propelled them forward until the prow grounded in the shallows.
"This is as far as I can go," Piper told them in a sweating voice. "Over there is the tomb."
* * * * *
Odin and Gunnar scrambled ashore. Piper pushed the boat back into the river and was gone. Three thin sickles of moons were cleaving their way across the sky. A few unfamiliar stars were out. There was enough light now for them to see Maya's tomb not far away. It seemed to be fashioned of moonbeams. It was su
ch a perfect copy of the Taj Mahal that here both death and sleep were brothers—and a nirvana of peace hung over it in an aura of silver light.
"That Piper is a smart lad," Gunnar whispered. "He knows what he wants. He'll go far—maybe."
They approached. Odin knew that four guards were stationed here at all times. They were all gone. The two went in, Gunnar turned on a little flash.
Had there been time, Odin might have grudgingly given Grim Hagen a few kind words for the work he had done and the tribute he had paid Maya. The best of a planet's treasures and art had been brought here. But all he could see was Maya, lying upon a golden, diamond-set couch. A silk embroidered coverlet was drawn over her, and it too seemed to have been spun from moonbeams. She looked no older. Odin could see no sign of breath. But he touched her hand and it was warm. He knelt beside her.
"Here," Gunnar handed him the light. "Hold this while I get busy. Here now, Nors-King. No blubbering."
He opened his buckskin bag and took out the last of its treasures—a small hypodermic case. He filled the hypodermic from a little vial that glittered in the light of the lamp. "Turn the light upon her forearm, now," he instructed.
Gunnar slowly counted to sixty after he had given her the shot. Maya's breasts moved. She sighed and raised a hand to her dark curls. Then her eyes opened—in fear and wonder as a child opens its eyes in a strange place.
