start him moving, and, once started, stubbornness kept himgoing, plowing irresistibly through the thick swarm of Vaornese. Reasontold him that no Earthman could expect to find a native hidden amonghundreds of his own kind. Their bipedal dinosaurlike figures seemed tobe cast out of one mold.
A chase through this crowd was futile, but he went on deeper into theKazlak, drawn along an invisible trail by some unearthly sense that toldhim he was right. He was as certain of it as that his name was AlbertJohnson. And when he finally cornered Shifaz in a deserted alley, he wasthe one who was not surprised.
Shifaz squawked and darted toward Albert, a knife glittering in hishand. Albert felt a stinging pain across the muscles of his left arm ashe blocked the thrust aimed at his belly, wrenched the knife from thenative's grasp, and slammed him to the pavement.
Shifaz bounced like a rubber ball, but he had no chance against thebigger and stronger Earthman. Albert knocked him down again. This timethe native didn't rise. He lay in the street, a trickle of blood oozingfrom the corner of his lipless mouth, hate radiating from him inpalpable waves.
Albert stood over him, panting a little from the brief but violentscuffle. "Now, Shifaz, you're going to tell me things," he said heavily.
"You can go to your Place of Punishment," Shifaz snarled. "I shall saynothing."
"I can beat the answers out of you," Albert mused aloud, "but I won't.I'll just ask you questions, and every time I don't like your answer,I'll kick one of your teeth out. If you don't answer, I guarantee thatyou'll look like an old grandmother."
* * * * *
Shifaz turned a paler green. To lose one's teeth was a punishmentreserved only for females. He would be a thing of mockery andlaughter--but there were worse things than losing teeth or face. Therewas such a thing as losing one's life, and he knew what would happen ifhe betrayed IC. Then he brightened. He could always lie, and thishulking brute of an Earthman wouldn't know--couldn't possibly know. Sohe nodded with a touch of artistic reluctance. "All right," he said,"I'll talk." He injected a note of fear into his voice. It wasn't hardto do.
"Where did you get that tobacco?" Albert asked.
"From a farm," Shifaz said. That was the truth. The Earthman probablyknew about tobacco and there was no need to lie, yet.
"Where is it?"
Shifaz thought quickly of the clearing in the forest south of Lagashwhere the green broad-leaved plants were grown, and said, "It's justoutside of Timargh, along the road which runs south." He waited tenselyfor Albert's reaction, wincing as the Earthman drew his foot back.Timargh was a good fifty miles from Lagash, and if this lie went over,he felt that he could proceed with confidence.
It went over. Albert replaced his foot on the ground. "You telling thetruth?"
"As Murgh is my witness," Shifaz said with sincerity.
Albert nodded and Shifaz relaxed with hidden relief. Apparently the manknew that Murgh was the most sacred and respected deity in the pantheonof Antar, and that oaths based upon his name were inviolable. But whatthe scaleless oaf didn't know was that this applied to Antarians only.As far as these strangers from another world were concerned, anythingwent.
So Albert continued questioning, and Shifaz answered, sometimes readily,sometimes reluctantly, telling the truth when it wasn't harmful, lyingwhen necessary. The native's brain was fertile and the tissue of liesand truth hung together well, and Albert seemed satisfied. At any rate,he finally went away, leaving behind a softly whistling Vaornese whocongratulated himself on the fact that he had once more imposed uponthis outlander's credulity. He was so easy to fool that it was almost acrime to do it.
But he wouldn't have been so pleased with himself if he could have seenthe inside of Albert's mind. For Albert knew the truth about thefour-hundred-acre farm south of Lagash. He knew about the hidden curingsheds and processing plant. He knew that both Vaornese and Lagashiteswere deeply involved in something they called Operation Weed, andapproved of it thoroughly either from sheer cussedness or addiction. Hehad quietly read the native's mind while the half-truths and lies hadfallen from his forked tongue. And, catching Shifaz's last thought,Albert couldn't help chuckling.
At one of the larger intersections, Albert stopped under a flamingcresset and looked at his arm. There was a wide red stain that lookedblack against the whiteness of his pajamas. That much blood meant morethan a scratch, even though there was no pain--and cuts on this worldcould be deadly if they weren't attended to promptly.
He suddenly felt alone and helpless, wishing desperately for a quietplace where he could dress his wound and be safe from the eyes he knewwere inspecting him. He was too conspicuous. The pajamas were out ofplace on the street. Undoubtedly natives were hurrying to report him tothe IC.
His mind turned to his room in the hostel with its well-fitted wardrobeand its first-aid kit--and again came that instant of utterdarkness--and then he was standing in the middle of his room facing thewardrobe that held his clothing.
* * * * *
He felt no surprise this time. He knew what had happened. Somethingwithin his body was acting like a tiny Distorter, transporting himthrough hyperspace in the same manner that a starship's engine roomwarped it through the folds of the normal space-time continuum. Therewas nothing really strange about it. It was a power which he _should_have--which any normal man should have. The fact that he didn't have itbefore was of no consequence, and the fact that other men didn't have itnow merely made _them_ abnormal.
He smiled as he considered the possibilities which these new powers gavehim. They were enormous. At the very least, they tripled his value as anagent. Nothing was safe from his investigation. The most secret hidingplaces were open to his probings. Nothing could stop him, for command ofhyperspace made a mockery of material barriers.
He chuckled happily as he removed his pajama jacket and reached for thefirst-aid kit. From the gash in his sleeve, there should be a nasty cutunderneath, and it startled him a little that there was no greateramount of hemorrhage. He cleaned off the dried blood--and found nothingunderneath except a thin red bloodless line that ran halfway around hisarm. It wasn't even a scratch.
Yet he had felt Shifaz' blade slice into his flesh. He knew there wasmore damage than this. The blood and the slashed sleeve could tell himthat, even if he didn't have the messages of his nerves. Yet now therewas no pain, and the closed scratch certainly wasn't the major wound hehad expected. And this _was_ queer, a fact for which he had noexplanation. Albert frowned. Maybe this was another facet of the psifactors that had suddenly become his.
He wondered where they had come from. Without warning, he had becomeable to read minds with accuracy and do an effective job ofteleportation. About the only things he lacked to be a well-rounded psiwere telekinetic powers and precognition.
His frown froze on his face as he became conscious of a sense of unease.They were coming down the hall--two IC guardsmen. He caught the doubtand certainty in their minds--doubt that he would be in his room,certainty that he would be ultimately caught, for on Antar there was noplace for an Earthman to hide.
Albert slipped into the first suit that came to hand, blessing the seamtabs that made dressing a moment's work. As the guards opened the door,he visualized the spot on the Lagash road where he had encountered theBandersnatch. It was easier than before. He was standing in the middleof the road, the center of the surprised attention of a few travelers,when the guards entered his room.
* * * * *
The bright light of Antar's golden day came down from a cloudless yellowsky. In the forest strip ahead, Albert could hear a faint medley ofcoughs, grunts and snarls as the lesser beasts fed upon the remains ofyesterday's garbage. Albert moved down the road, ignoring the startlednatives. This time he wasn't afraid of meeting a Bandersnatch oranything else, for he had a method of escape that was foolproof. Lagashwas some thirty miles ahead, but in the lighter gravity of Antar, thewalk would be stimulating rather than exhausting.
He went at a steady pace, occasionally turning his glance to the road,impressing sections of it upon his memory so that he could return tothem via teleport if necessary. He found that he could memorize withperfect ease. Even the positions of clumps of grass and twigs wereremembered with perfect clarity and in minute detail. The perfection ofhis memory astonished and delighted him.
The Zark felt pleased with itself. Although it had never dreamed of thepotential contained in the host's mind, it realized that it wasresponsible for the release of these weird powers, and it enjoyed thenew sensations and was eager for more. If partial probing could achieveso much, what was the ultimate power of this remarkable mind? The Zarkdidn't know, but, like a true experimenter, it was determined to findout--so it probed
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