Planet of Adventure Omnibus (81 page)

Cauch climbed
aboard the first cart; Reith and Zap 210 joined him. The carts departed
Zsafathra.

The road led
out upon a damp land of reeds, water-plants, isolated black stumps trailing
lime-green tendrils. Cauch gave a great deal of his attention to the sky, as
did the Zsafathrans in the cart behind. Reith finally asked: “What are you
watching for?”

“Occasionally,”
said Cauch, “we are molested by a tribe of predatory birds from the hills
yonder. In fact, there you see one of their sentinels.” He pointed to a black
speck flapping across the southern sky; it appeared the size of a large
buzzard. Cauch went on in a voice of resignation. “Presently they will fly out
to attack us.

“You show no
great alarm,” said Reith.

“We have
learned how to deal with them.” Cauch turned and gestured to the cart behind,
then accelerated the pace of his own cart, to open up a gap of a hundred yards
between the two. Out of the southern skies came a flock of fifty or sixty
flapping birdcreatures. As they drew near Reith saw that each carried two
chunks of stone half the size of his head. He looked uneasily toward Cauch. “What
do they do with the rocks?”

“They drop them,
with remarkable accuracy. Assume that you stood in the road, and that thirty
creatures flew above you at their customary height of five hundred feet. Thirty
stones would strike you and crush you to the ground.”

“Evidently
you have learned how to frighten them off.”

“No, nothing
of the sort.”

“You disturb
their accuracy?”

“To the
contrary. We are essentially a passive people and we try to deal with our
enemies so that they disconcert or defeat themselves. Have you wondered why the
Khors do not attack us?”

“The thought
has occurred to me.”

“When the
Khors attack-and they have not done so for six hundred years-we evade them and
by one means or another penetrate their sacred groves. Here we perform acts of
defilement, of the most simple, natural and ordinary sort. They no longer can
use the grove for procreation and must either migrate or perish. Our weapons, I
agree, are indelicate, but typify our philosophy of warfare.”

“And these
birds?” Reith dubiously watched the approach of the flock. “Surely the same weapons
are ineffectual?”

“I would
presume so,” Cauch agreed, “though for a fact we have never tested them. In
this case we do nothing whatever.”

The birds
soared overhead; Cauch urged the dray-beast into a sinuous lope. One by one the
birds dropped their stones, which fell to strike the road behind the cart.

“The birds,
you must understand, can only compute the position of a stationary target; in
this case their accuracy is their undoing.„

The stones
were all dropped; with croaks of frustration the birds flew back to the
mountains. “They will more than likely return with another load of stones,”
said Cauch. “Do you notice how this road is elevated some four feet above the
surrounding marsh? The toil has been accomplished by the birds over many
centuries. They are dangerous only if you stand to watch.”

The carts
moved through a forest of wax-brown trees, seething with hordes of small white
fuzz-balls, half-spider, halfmonkey, which bounded from branch to branch,
venting raucous little screams and hurling twigs at the travelers. The road
then led twenty miles across a plain littered with boulders of honey-colored
tuff, toward a pair of tall volcanic necks, each growing into an ancient
weathered castle, in ages past the headquarters of hermetic cults but now, according
to Cauch, the abode of ghouls. “By day they are never seen, but by night they
come down to prowl the outskirts of Urmank. Sometimes the Thangs catch them in
traps for use at the carnival.”

The road
passed between the peaks and Urmank came into view: a disorderly straggle of
high, narrow houses of black timber, brown tile and stone. A quay bordered the
waterfront, where half a dozen ships floated placidly at moorages. Behind the
quay was the marketplace and bazaar, to which a flutter of orange and green
banners gave a festive air. A long wall of crumbling brick bounded the bazaar;
a clutter of mud huts beyond seemed to indicate a caste of pariahs.

“Behold
Urmank!” said Cauch. “The town of the Thangs. They are not fastidious as to who
comes and who goes, provided only that they take away fewer sequins than they
brought.”

“In my case
they will be disappointed,” said Reith. “I hope to gain sequins, by one means
or another.”

Cauch gave
him a marveling side-glance. “You intend to take sequins from the Thangs? If
you control such a miraculous power please share it with me. The Thangs have
cheated us so regularly that now they regard the process as their birthright.
Oh, I tell you, in Urmank you must be wary!”

“If you are
cheated, why do you deal with them?”

“It seems an
absurdity,” Cauch admitted. “After all, we could bring a ship and sail it to
Hedaijha, the Green Erges, Coad-but we are a wry people; it amuses us to come
to Urmank where the Thang provide entertainments. Look yonder; see the area
wrapped around with brown and orange canvas? There is the site of the stilting.
Beyond are the games of chance, where the visitor invariably loses more than he
gains. Urmank is a challenge to Zsafathra; always we hope to outwit the Thangs.”

“Our joint
efforts may yield a profit,” said Reith. “At least I can bring a fresh outlook
to bear.”

Cauch gave an
indifferent shrug. “Zsafathrans have tried to outdo the Thangs from beyond the
brink of memory. They deal with us by formula. First we are enticed by the
prospect of quick gain; then after we have put down our sequins the prospects
recede ... Well, first we will refresh ourselves. The Inn of the Lucky Mariner
has proved satisfactory in the past. As my associate you are safe from
thuggery, kidnap and slave-taking. However, you must guard your own money; the
Thangs can be coerced only so far and no further.”

The common
room at the Inn of the Lucky Mariner was furnished in a style Reith had not
seen previously on Tschai. Angular chairs of wooden posts and poles lined the
walls, which were whitewashed brick. In alcoves glass pots displayed the
movement of iridescent seaworms. The chief functionary wore a brown caftan
buttoned down the front, a black skullcap, black slippers and black
finger-guards. His face was bland, his manners suave; he proffered for Reith’s
inspection a pair of adjoining cubicles furnished with couch, nightstand and
lamp, which, with fresh body linen and foot ointment, rented for the inclusive
sum of three sequins. Reith thought the figure reasonable and said as much to
Cauch.

“Yes,” said
Cauch. “Three sequins is no great amount, but I recommend that you make no use
of the foot ointment. As a new amenity, it arouses suspicion. It may stain the
woodwork, whereupon you will be levied an extra charge. Or it may contain a
pulsing vescient, the balm for which sells at five sequins the dram.”

Cauch spoke
in full earshot of the functionary, who laughed quietly and without offense. “Old
Zsafathran, you are overskeptical for once. Recently we were required to accept
a large stock of tonics and ointments in lieu of payment, and we have merely
put these substances at the disposal of our guests. Do you require a diuretic
or a vermifuge? We supply these at only a nominal charge.”

“At the
moment, nothing,” said Cauch.

“What of your
Hedaijhan friends? Everyone is the better for an occasional purge, which we
offer at ten bice. No? Well then, for your evening meal let me recommend The
Choicest Offerings of Land and Sea a few steps to the right along the quay.”

“I have dined
there on a previous occasion,” said Cauch. “The substances set before me would
have quelled the appetite of a High-castle ghoul. We will buy bread and fruit
in the market.”

“In that
case, be so good as to patronize the booth of my nephew, opposite the depilatorium!”

“We will
inspect his produce.” Cauch led the way out upon the quay. “The Lucky Mariner’s
comparatively scrupulous; still, as you see, one must be alert. On my last
visit, a troupe of musicians played in the common room. I stopped for a moment
to listen and on my reckoning discovered a charge of four sequins. As far as
the offer of purgative at little or no charge”-here Cauch coughed-”this is all
very well. On a previous visit to Urmank a similar offer was put to my
grandfather, who accepted and thereafter discovered a lock on the door to the
convenience, and consequent usage charge. The medication, in the long run, cost
him dearly. It is wise in one’s dealings with the Thangs to examine every
aspect of a situation.”

The three
strolled along the quay, Reith examining the ships with interest. These were
all fat-bellied little cogs, with high poops and foredecks, propelled by sails
when the wind was fair and an electric jet-pump otherwise. In front of each a
board announced the name of the ship, the port of destination and the date of
sailing.

Cauch touched
Reith’s arm. “It might be imprudent to evince too great an interest in the
ships.”

“Why?”

“At Urmank it
is always the part of wisdom to dissemble.”

Reith looked
back up the quay. “No one appears to be heeding us. If they are, they will take
it for granted that I dissemble and actually plan a journey overland.”

Cauch sighed.
“At Urmank life has many surprises for the unwary.”

Reith halted
by a board. “The ship
Nhiahar
. Destination: Ching, the Murky Isles, the
South Schanizade Coast, Kazain. A moment.” Reith climbed a gangplank and
approached a thin and somber man in a leather apron.

“Where is the
captain, if you please?”

“I am he.”

“In
connection with a voyage to Kazain: what fare would you demand for two persons?”

“For the
Class A cabin I require four sequins per person per diem, which includes
nutrition. The passage to Kazain is generally thirty-two days; hence the total
fee for two persons is, let us say, two hundred and sixty sequins.”

Reith
expressed surprise at the magnitude of the amount, but the captain maintained
an indifferent attitude.

Reith
returned to the dock. “I need something over two hundred and fifty sequins.”

“Not an
impossible sum,” said Cauch. “A diligent laborer can earn four or even five
sequins a day. Porters are always in demand along the docks.”

“What of the
gambling booths?”

“The district
is yonder, beside the bazaar. Needless to say, you are unlikely to overcome the
Thang gamesters on their own premises.”

They walked
into a plaza paved with squares of salmon-pink stone. “A thousand years ago the
tyrant Przelius built a great rotunda here. Only a floor remains. There:
food-stalls. There: garments and sandals. There: ointments and extracts...” As
Cauch spoke he pointed toward various quarters of the plaza, where the booths
offered a great variety of goods: foodstuffs, cloth, leather; an earth-colored
melange of spices; tinware and copper; black iron slabs, pads, rods and bars;
glassware and lamps; paper charms and fetishes. Beyond the floor of the rotunda
and the more or less orderly array of booths were the entertainments: orange
tents with rugs in front where girls danced to nose-flutes and snap-blocks.
Some wore garments of gauze; others danced bare to the waist; a few no more
than a year or two from childhood wore only sandals. Zap 210 watched these and
their postures with amazement. Then, with a shrug and a numb expression, she
turned away.

Muffled
chanting attracted Reith’s attention. A canvas wall enclosed a small stadium,
from which now came a sudden chorus of hoots and groans. “The stilt contests,”
Cauch explained. “It appears that one of the champions has been downed, and
many wagers have gone by the boards.”

As they
passed the stadium Reith caught a view of four men on ten-foot stilts stalking
warily around each other. One kicked forth with his stilt; another struck a
blow with a pillow-headed club; a third caught unaware careened away,
preserving his balance by a miracle, while the others hopped after him like
grotesque carrion-birds.

“The
stilt-fighters are mostly Black Mountain mica-cutters,” said Cauch. “The
outsider who wagers on the bouts might as well drop his money into a hole.”
Cauch gave his head a rueful jerk. “Still, we always hope. My brother’s
name-father won forty-two sequins at the eel-race some years ago. I must admit
that for two days previously he burnt incense and implored divine intervention.”

“Let’s watch
an eel-race,” said Reith. “If divine intervention earns a profit of forty-two
sequins, our own intelligence should produce at least as much and hopefully
more.”

“This way
then, past the brat-house.”

Reith was
about to inquire what a brat-house might be, when a grinning urchin ran dose
and kicked Reith on the shins then, dodging back, made an ugly face and ran into
the brat-house. Reith looked after the child in wrathful puzzlement. “What’s
the reason for that?”

“Come,” said
Cauch. “I’ll show you.”

He led the
way into the brat-house. On a stage thirty feet distant stood the child, who
upon their entrance emitted a hideous taunting squeal. Behind the counter stood
a suave middle-aged Thang with a silky brown mustache. “Nasty tyke, don’t you
think? Here, give him a good pelting. These mud-balls come ten bice apiece. The
dung-packets are six to the sequin and these prickle-burrs are five to the
sequin.”