by Titan Books
“Is that a deal?” asked Burke.
“As I recall it,” said Galen, “a deal has two hands.”
“Why should I say anything?” asked Virdon. “I’m not interested in racing.”
Barlow held up a hand to stop Virdon. “Wait,” he said. “I wasn’t finished. Of course, I have something in mind to pay you back for helping me.”
“What were you thinking?” asked Virdon.
“Ride Woda in the race,” said Barlow, “and I will get Zaius to pardon your friend, Greger. If you win.”
There was only a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll ride,” said Virdon. “That’s the deal that I expected.”
“Just a moment,” said Galen. “What if he loses? A good horse and a good rider don’t guarantee a win.”
Barlow frowned. “I know that,” he said. “But I have confidence in Woda, and I have just as much faith in Virdon. I know what I’ve just seen, and I don’t think there’s a horse in the territory that could match it.”
“What if there is?” asked Burke.
“In that case,” said Barlow, “I won’t be able to save Greger from Zandar. Your young human friend will die. But if Virdon doesn’t ride, then Greger is certain to be shot anyway.”
“Yes,” said Virdon.
“If you could get a pardon for Greger if Virdon wins,” said Burke, “why couldn’t you get a pardon if Virdon loses?”
“Virdon’s victory will be a wedge,” said Barlow. “Something that I can use against Zaius. It’s all tied up together. You don’t have sufficient knowledge of the workings of the ape mind.”
“That’s for sure,” said Burke.
“But I do,” said Galen, “and I agree with Pete.”
“You, Galen, don’t have sufficient knowledge of the workings of the official ape mind.”
“Meaning Zaius,” said Virdon.
“And meaning me, too,” said Barlow, smiling.
“Another thing,” said Burke. “Alan, you’ll be riding in a race with apes all over the place. And every one of them will be hating the idea of a human on horseback. That’s looking for too much trouble in just the right place. I don’t like that part of it at all.”
“I said I’d arrange for permission,” said Barlow.
“A lot of good that will do when a hundred apes start pointing rifles at him,” said Burke.
“There will be protection,” said Barlow.
“Who will protect him from the protection?” asked Galen.
“I’ve still got a feeling there’s some kind of catch in this,” said Burke.
“Remember the joke about why the guy played in a crooked gambling house, Pete?” asked Virdon. “Because it was the only game in town.”
“Your jokes haven’t improved any in the last few thousand years,” said Burke.
Virdon laughed. “What I mean is, you’re ignoring the main point. We don’t have a choice. I have to try, I have to win. For Greger.”
“That’s it, precisely,” said Barlow.
“Prefect,” said Galen, “I hope Woda wins, of course, but I want your written promise that nothing will happen to Alan if he loses.”
Barlow nodded. “I promise that I won’t interfere in any way with his departure from Venta.” There was no mention made of Zandar’s potential intervention. But, as Barlow had explained, the prefect’s jurisdiction over the gorilla garrison was virtually non-existent. Barlow, in what he thought was a gracious gesture, added to his statement. “The promise applies to all three of you, naturally,” he said.
Burke was still dubious. “What about this ape he’s going to race against?” he asked. “Will he cause trouble?”
“Why should he?” asked Barlow. “It’s only a race.”
* * *
As if to underscore the naive quality of Barlow’s answer, Urko and a party of uniformed gorillas rode into Venta the next morning. Even the garrison of local patrol gorillas moved aside as the powerful general of the ape military forces rode by. It seemed to many who watched that Urko and his troopers made more noise and raised more dust than four gorillas on horseback ought to. There was not a citizen or slave of Venta who did not recognize Urko, and the word of his arrival spread quickly.
The day had only begun, but it was the day of the great race. The excitement that had infected everyone for the previous few days had grown to proportions that had the police and the prefect worried. From Barlow’s house, runners with security orders kept entering and leaving.
The front door of the prefect’s house opened again, and Galen, Burke, and Virdon emerged. They walked to the street, where Galen’s horse had been tied. Galen was about to mount the animal when Virdon glanced down the street. “Wait a minute,” said Virdon. He grabbed his two friends and stopped them. They looked in the direction the blond man indicated.
Urko, backed by his three hand-picked soldiers, were slowly approaching on horseback.
“It figures,” said Burke. The three fugitives darted for cover around the corner of the house. Several tense moments later, Urko and the troopers rode past, not having seen the trio. Galen, Burke, and Virdon watched Urko go by.
“What’s Urko doing here?” asked Galen.
“It could be an incredible coincidence,” said Virdon.
“Somehow, I don’t believe it,” said Burke.
One of Barlow’s handlers walked by, leading a horse to a watering trough. Galen stepped forward from his hiding place and spoke to the human. “You,” he said imperiously. “Do you know who Urko is?”
“Yes, sir,” said the handler. “Of course.”
“I just saw him,” said Galen. “Does he come to this town often?”
“No, sir. Only for something important. Like the big race.”
Virdon had been listening, and the man’s words made him more and more unhappy; with a sinking feeling he asked, “You mean the race with Barlow’s horse?”
The handler smiled. “Is there any other race?”
Galen dismissed the handler, who led the horse on down the street.
“That Barlow’s cute,” said Burke. “He won’t interfere in any way with our departure from Venta. He won’t have to. Urko will take care of that!”
“I thought he was our friend,” said Virdon.
“His friend,” said Burke, pointing to Galen.
“We could leave now,” said Galen.
“What about Greger?” asked Virdon.
“I said we could,” said Galen. “I didn’t say we should.”
“Boy,” said Burke, hitting his head with the palm of one hand, “are we ever boxed in! If Alan doesn’t ride, Greger gets shot. Welcome to Venta and have a happy day!”
7
Barlow’s stomach was bothering him. He had eaten a much smaller breakfast than usual, allowing Dath to finish the fruits and nuts that the prefect was unable to eat. Still, Barlow felt faintly sick. The feeling didn’t improve any when Barlow went to his window and saw that Urko and his company had arrived, had taken rooms for their stay, and were walking toward the office of the prefect. Barlow stood by the window, almost hypnotized by the sight of the powerful gorilla swaggering along the street toward him. After a moment, Barlow shook off the effect and sat down at his desk, his face creased with a frown of deep concern. This was the day of the race, and everything about it made Barlow even more miserable.
The prefect of the village of Venta sat and waited for Urko. Barlow folded his hands, intending to stay in that position until Urko arrived. He did not move as he heard the sound of heavy footsteps outside. There was no knock on the door; it just opened, and Urko entered. The gorilla came into Barlow’s inner office and stood, staring, for a moment. Then he spoke, “What’s this I hear?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” asked Barlow, still sitting, still holding his hands folded in front of him.
Urko almost snarled. “You know exactly what I mean,” he said. “Are you seriously thinking of using a human jockey in the race?”
“Ah,” said Barlow. “Permi
ssion has already been granted by Zaius.”
“We are a good distance from Zaius,” said Urko, more mildly. “And permission has not been granted by me. What would you do if I said your human could not ride?”
Barlow stared; his upper lip was beaded with perspiration. “I would find another jockey,” said the prefect.
Urko laughed. “Of course,” he said. “And afterward you’d complain to Zaius. But that wouldn’t do you any good. What could Zaius do to me? You’re a bigger fool than I thought, Barlow. What chance will a human have against my rider? All Zaius has done is give you enough rope to hang yourself.”
“We’ll see,” answered Barlow tightly.
“Who is this human who’s crazy enough to ride against one of Urko’s apes?” asked the general.
Barlow shrugged. “What difference dose it make?” he asked. “He’s just a human.”
Urko nodded. He looked around the room thoughtfully. “Has he ever ridden a horse before?” he asked in a casual manner.
There was a slight pause. “Yes,” said Barlow. “He’s quite good.”
Urko gave the prefect a cruel smile. Barlow had walked right into Urko’s trap. “Then you won’t object if we raise the stakes a little, will you?”
Barlow perspired even more freely. His hands were still folded in front of him. His mind raced. He didn’t see how he could avoid Urko’s crafty maneuver. Barlow had already admitted that the human had ridden a horse, in defiance of Urko’s own dictates. Barlow tried to stall, but he realized that would do no good. Finally, unhappily, he said, “How much?”
“All your horses,” said Urko harshly. “If you lose, all your horses. And all your lands.”
Barlow was stunned for a moment by the magnitude of what Urko was saying. If Barlow agreed, and lost, he would be reduced to the level of a propertyless human, without anything in the world but his personal freedom and his reputation as an honest ape. The idea of losing everything appalled Barlow, but there was no way to get out of it. “And if I win?” he said tensely.
Urko laughed at the very thought. Barlow and his human jockey, beating Urko’s fastest horse, his most experienced rider? The foolishness of the idea made Urko expansive. He wondered what Barlow might be thinking, what greedy visions might be passing through that simple, country ape mind. “What would you like?” asked the general, prepared to be generous.
Barlow had reached the point in the negotiations which he both feared and longed for. This was the reason for the bargaining with Virdon and Galen. This was the reason that he was prepared to risk all that he owned in the world. He dreaded speaking, for fear that Urko would deny him. He summoned up the courage. “Transfer me back to Cela,” he said, swallowing hard.
Urko laughed out loud again. Barlow had proven himself to be even simpler than Urko had estimated. With the opportunity to name great sums of money and property, the prefect would settle for such a trivial stake? It seemed outrageous to Urko. It seemed almost as though the prefect had spent too much time in the company of humans. “Certainly,” said Urko. “If that’s what you want.” The gorilla turned his back on Barlow and walked to the door. Barlow watched him go, grateful that the interview was over; the prefect unfolded his hands, which were damp with sweat. Urko, shaking his massive, shaggy head, opened the door and disappeared outside. Barlow swallowed again. He had made a gamble so desperate that he didn’t even want to think about it. He just wanted the race to be over.
* * *
In a field not far from Barlow’s house, Virdon was putting Woda though some jumps and stretch runs, in training for the race. Barlow walked toward the man and horse, along with Galen and Burke. “Beautiful!” cried Barlow. “Beautiful! We’re going to win!” The prefect paused a moment. “At least,” he said, “I hope we are.”
“You’re going to win,” said Burke sourly. “That was some deal you made with us. The world hasn’t changed at all. Sometimes I have hope. I meet people, even apes, who are better than people I used to know. It’s Alan who wants to get back so desperately. I wouldn’t half mind settling down here. But then I always end up finding out that every dream has a lead lining. Barlow, this time, you’re it. When Urko spots Alan on your horse, he’ll kill him. And me and Galen, too.”
Galen was equally as upset. He complained bitterly to the prefect. “I don’t understand you,” he said. “Don’t you feel the least bit guilty about the way you tricked us?”
“Of course I do,” said Barlow. “Absolutely.”
“Well,” said Burke, “I’m glad to hear it. What a big help.”
“What could I do?” said Barlow in a whining voice. “I was forced into the race. My future depends upon winning it. Besides, I didn’t know for certain that Urko was coming.”
“Just like I don’t know for certain that my head won’t fall off,” said Burke.
“I used to boast about honor among apes,” said Galen sadly. “You’ve disgraced our race in front of Alan and Pete.”
“That’s all right, Galen,” said Burke. “I’ve met humans like him, too.”
“That’s the problem,” said Galen.
“Speaking of honor,” said Barlow timidly, “I don’t like to spread gossip, but I feel I should warn you. I’ve heard rumors that Urko’s horse doesn’t always win by fair means. A friend in Regego told me that Urko resorts to cheating, even if he’s clearly ahead.”
“Why is it that the news doesn’t surprise me?” asked Burke of no one in particular.
“Was that designed to cheer us up?” asked Galen.
“I thought it was important,” said Barlow. “After all, I was just trying to be helpful.”
“You’ve already done a wonderful job for us,” said Burke.
“I’m sorry,” said Barlow. “I couldn’t help it.”
Burke sighed loudly. “Come on, Galen,” he said.
“Where?” asked the chimpanzee.
Burke shook his head, laughing joylessly. “With all that Urko’s got going for him, we’d better see if we can jiggle a few odds in our favor.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Barlow.
“I don’t know yet,” said Burke.
“Be careful,” said Barlow.
“What can happen?” asked Galen. “We could get recaptured. We could get shot. That’s what will happen if we don’t do anything.”
“We might as well take a chance or two,” said Burke. “It will help pass the time.”
* * *
The race course was actually little more than a rough lane going past a small grandstand; the stands had been built a few years before, when Urko began his circuit of racing. They were never used for anything but this yearly race. Right in front of the grandstand were two poles, which indicated the starting line and the finish line. More than half a mile away, out of sight of the grandstand, there was a large tree. The riders raced for the tree, circled it, and came back over the road. Near the two poles by the grandstand Burke was digging a deep hole in the ground. Galen watched to be sure that no one interrupted him; it was still well before the race was to begin, and no one was around. Galen looked like the overseer on some strange job; that was the way Burke and Galen had planned it, to fool any casual observers. While Burke dug, Galen busied himself carving notches in a wooden spool; the chimpanzee reclined on the ground.
“I really do wish that I could help you,” said Galen.
Burke looked up from his labor and wiped his sweating face. “I’ll just bet you do,” he said without malice. “I can see how anxious you are to start shoveling.”
“Really, Pete,” said Galen. “But we must think of appearances.”
“Yeah,” said Burke. “Sure.”
“If anybody saw me digging, they’d say, ‘Why are you doing that? That’s what humans are for!’ Otherwise, I’d give you a hand.”
Burke stretched the fingers on both of his hands; blisters had formed on his palms, at the base of his fingers, from holding the shovel. His back hurt from lifting and throwing the dirt. H
is chest hurt from the heavy breathing he was doing as he worked. “Cut it out, Galen,” he said. “You love it up there and you know it!” Burke leaned on his shovel and took a couple of deep breaths.
For reply, Galen held up his spool. “Well,” he said, “I am contributing to the effort. I’m doing everything I can. Even if I don’t exactly understand it. Your mind is every bit as devious as Barlow’s. Do you think this is really going to help us save Alan?”
‘Burke turned back to his digging. “You’re getting warm, buddy,” he said. “You’re getting warm.”
Galen was puzzled by Burke’s words. “Warm?” he said, not able to find the slightest meaning in the word that had to do with their present situation. “I’m not the least bit warm.”
“Then just keep cool,” said Burke, throwing a shovelful of soil out of the hole.
“Is that another of your ancient human expressions?” asked Galen. “I wish there were some way you could warn me when you were going to use one. You know how much trouble I have understanding you and Alan sometimes.” Baffled, Galen gave up trying to figure Burke’s words out, and resumed carving notches in the spool.
* * *
Outside the village, at Martin’s homestead, there was the loud ringing of metal on metal. In Martin’s smithy, the man was shaping a horseshoe on his anvil. Virdon hovered nearby, watching the process critically.
“How is this?” asked Martin.
“Thinner, Martin, thinner!” said Virdon. He was becoming frustrated; he knew that Martin was, too. “A race horse must have thin, lightweight shoes on its feet.”
“Urko’s horses don’t,” said Martin. “And they always win. His horses wear the same shoes as any other horse.”
Virdon jabbed his finger in the air to underline what Martin had just said. “That’s the point!” said the astronaut. “That’s where we have the advantage. In a race, every little bit helps. Even Urko understands that. We have to find our slight winning edge in places like this.”
“I don’t pretend to understand,” said Martin. “But if it will help to save my son, I will do anything.” He continued to shape the shoe to Virdon’s specifications, and the astronaut bent closer to watch.
