Retief Unbound (31 page)

"Straight ahead,
can't miss it," Boobooboo was saying. "But watch snares; you get
caught same way absent chum, deal off."

"Understood,
Chief. And you'll keep your people posted in position to create a diversion in
the event I have to leave the vicinity in haste."

"Correct; we stand
by, catch any wandering grub come galloping past."

"It's been a
pleasure dealing with you, Chief. If you ever decide to give up the rural way
of life, drop me a line. The Corps could use your talents instructing a course
in creative naiveté."

"Thanks, Retief.
Keep offer in mind in case present caper not pan out."

The forest was silent
as Retief made his way along the dimly marked trail, but for a stealthy
rustling in the undergrowth which ceased when he halted, began again when he
went on. He had covered perhaps a hundred and fifty yards when he rounded an
abrupt turn and was face to face with twelve feet of tusked nightmare.

For a moment Retief
stood unmoving, studying the monstrosity looming gigantic ten feet away. Its
bleary, pinkish eyes, three in number, stared unwinking at him from a lumpy
face equipped with tufted whiskers placed at random around a vast, loose-lipped
mouth and a scattering of gaping nostrils. From its massive shoulders, immense
arms hung almost to the ground; three bowed legs supported the weight of a
powerfully muscled torso. The big fellow's generous pedal extremities were
housed in gigantic sneakers with round black reinforcing patches over the
anklebones. A long tail curled up over one clavicle, ending in a seven-fingered
hand with which the creature was exploring the interior of a large, pointed
ear. Other hands gripped a naked two-edged sword at least nine feet in length.

Retief took a
hand-rolled Jorgenson's cigar from an inside pocket, puffed it alight, blew out
pale violet smoke. "Nice night," he said.

The monster drew a deep
breath. "AHHHrrrghhh!" it bellowed.

"Sorry,"
Retief said, "I didn't quite catch that remark."

"AHHHrrrghhh!"
the creature repeated.

Retief shook his head.
"You're still not getting through."

"Ahhrrgh?"

"You do it
well," Retief said. "Exceptionally nice timbre. Real feeling."

"You really like
it?" the giant said in a surprisingly high-pitched voice. "Gee,
thanks a lot."

"I don't know when
I've seen it done better. But is that all there is?"

"You mean it ain't
enough?"

"I'm perfectly
satisfied," Retief assured his new acquaintance. "I just wanted to be
sure there wasn't an encore."

"I practiced it
plenty," the oversized Lumbagan said. "I wouldn't of wanted to of did
it wrong."

"Certainly not. By
the way, what does it mean?"

"How do I know?
Who tells me anything? I'm just old Smelch, which everybody pushes me around on
account of I'm easygoing, you know?"

"I think I met a
relative of yours in town, Smelch. Unfortunately I had to rush away before we
really had a chance to chat."

"Yeah? Well, I
heard a few of the boys was to of been took for a glom at the bright lights.
But not me. No such luck."

"You don't happen
to know who's been down for a barefoot stroll on the shore do you,
Smelch?" the Terran inquired casually. "A party with three-toed
feet."

"Three?
Lessee." Smelch's tail-mounted hand scratched at his mottled scalp with a
sound reminiscent of a spade striking marl. "That'd be more'n one, and
less than nine, right?"

"You're narrowing
the field," Retief said encouragingly.

"If I just knew
how many nine was, I'd be in business," Smelch muttered. "That ain't
nothing like say, six, fer example?"

"Close, but no
dope stick. Skip that point, Smelch, I didn't mean to get technical. Were you
waiting for anything special when I came along?"

"You bet: my
relief."

"When's he
due?"

"Well, lessee: I
come out here a while back, and been here for quite a time, so what does that
leave? Say—half a hour?"

"More like a jiffy
and a half, give or take a few shakes of a lamb's tail. What's up at the top of
the trail?"

"That's what
nobody ain't supposed to know."

"Why not?"

"On account of
it's like a secret, see?"

"I'm beginning to
get a glimmering. Who says it's a secret?" Smelch's fingernail abraded his
chin with a loud reaching sound.

"That's supposed
to be another secret." Smelch's features rearranged themselves in what
might have been a puzzled frown. "What I can't figure is—if it's a secret,
how come you know about it?"

"Word gets
around," Retief said reassuringly. "OK if I go up and have a
look?"

"Maybe you ought
to identify yourself first. Not that I don't trust you, but you know how it
is."

"Certainly. I'm
Retief, Smelch." He shook the hand at the end of the tail, which returned
the grip firmly.

"Sorry about the
routine, Retief, but these days a guy can't be too careful."

"What about?"

Smelch blinked all
three eyes in rotation, a vertiginous effect.

"I get it,"
he said, "that's what you call a joke, right? I'm nuts about jokes; only
the trouble is usually nobody tells me about 'em in time to laugh."

"It's a problem
that often plagues ambassadors, Smelch. But don't worry; I'll be sure to tip
you off in advance next time."

"Gee, you're a
all-right guy, Retief, even if you are kind of a runt and all, no
offense."

The sound of heavy feet
came from uptrail; a squat, five-foot figure lumbered into view, as solidly
built as Smelch but less beautiful, his various arms, legs, and ears having
been arranged with a fine disregard for standard patterns. One of his five
hands gripped a fifteen-foot harpoon; his four eyes, on six-inch stalks,
goggled atop a flattened skull which gave the appearance of having been matured
inside a hot-water bottle.

"About time,
Flunt," Smelch greeted the newcomer. "You're a shake and a half
late."

"Spare me any
carping criticisms," Flunt replied in a tone of long-suffering weariness.
"I've just come from an interview with that bossy little—" He broke
off, looking Retief up and down. "Well, you might at least offer an
introduction," he said sharply to Smelch, extending a hand to the diplomat.
"I'm Flunt. Pardon my appearance—" He indicated two uncombed fringes
of purplish-blue filaments springing from just below his cheekbones. "But
I just washed my hide and I can't do a thing with it."

"Not at all,"
Retief said ambiguously, giving Flunt's feet a quick glance: they were bare,
and remarkably human-looking. "My name's Retief."

"Goodness, I hope
I'm not interrupting anything," Flunt said, looking questioningly from one
to the other.

"Not at all.
Smelch and I were just passing the time of night. Interesting little island,
Flunt. See many strangers here?"

"Gracious, I hope
not. I'm supposed to do dreadful things if I do—" Flunt broke off, gave
Retief a startled look. "Ah, you aren't by any chance a stranger . . .
?"

"Are you
kidding?" Smelch spoke up. "He's Retief, like I told you."

"Just so you're
sure. Little Sir Nasty-nice wouldn't like it a bit if any outsiders sneaked a
peek at his precious whatever-it-is. Really, for this job one needs eyes in the
back of one's head!"

"Yeah,"
Smelch said. "Lucky you got 'em."

"Flunt, do you
know anyone with three-toed feet in these parts?" Retief asked.

"Three-toed feet?
Hmmm. They're a bit passe this season, of course—but I think I've seen a few
around. Why?" His voice lowered confidentially. "If you're interested
in picking up half a dozen at a bargain price, I think I may be able to put you
onto a good thing."

"I might be,"
Retief said. "When could I meet the owners?"

"Oh, I don't think
you'd like that," Flunt said soberly. "No, I don't think you'd like
that at all, at all. And neither would little Mr. Sticky-fingers, now that I
reflect on it. Actually, I shouldn't have mentioned the matter. My blunder.
Forget I said anything about it."

"Come on,
Retief," Smelch said loudly. "Me and you'll just take a little ankle
up the trail, which I'll point out the points of interest and like that."
He gave the Terran an elaborate three-eyed wink.

"Capital idea,
Smelch," Retief agreed.

"Look here,
Smelch," Flunt said nervously, "you're not going to go sneaking
around you-know-where and getting you-know-who all upset about
you-know-what?"

"I do?"
Smelch looked pleased.

"Maybe you don't;
it's been dinned into your head hourly all your life, but then you've only been
around for a week ..." Flunt turned to Retief.

"I hate to sound
finicky, Retief, but if this ummyday tries to ipslay you into, well, anyplace
you shouldn't eebay, well . . . one has one's job to do." He fingered the
barbed head of his harpoon meaningfully.

"I can give you a
definite tentative hypothetical assurance on that," Retief said crisply.
"But don't hold me to it."

"Well, in that
case. . . ." Retief felt Flunt's eyes on him as he and Smelch moved up the
trail toward whatever lay above.

For the first hundred
yards, nothing untoward disturbed the silence of the forest at night—nothing
other than the normal quota of chirps, squeaks, and scuttlings that attested to
the activities of the abundant wildlife of the region. Then, without warning, a
gigantic shape charged from the underbrush. Smelch, in the lead, late in
swinging his broad-headed spear around, took the brunt of the charge solidly
against his chest. His explosive grunt was almost drowned in the sound of the collision,
not unlike that of an enraged rhino charging a Good Humor wagon. The
antagonists surged to and from, trampling shrubbery, shaking trees, grunting
like beached walruses. Suddenly the stranger bent his knees, rammed his head
into Smelch's midriff, and rose, Smelch spread-eagled across his shoulders. He
pivoted sharply, went into a dizzying twirl, and hurled the unfortunate victim
from him to hurtle into the undergrowth, snapping off a medium-sized tree in
the process. The victor paused only long enough to beat out a rapid tattoo on
his chest and wait until a brief coughing fit passed before whirling on Retief.
The Terran sidestepped the dimly seen monster's first rush, which carried the
latter well into the thicket beside the path. As he threshed about there,
roaring, Smelch reemerged from the opposite side of the route, shaking his head
and muttering. The stranger came crashing back onto the scene only to be met by
two lefts and a right haymaker that halted him in his tracks.

"Sorry about that,
Retief," Smelch said contritely, as his antagonist toppled like a felled
oak. "But the mug got my dander up, which he shouldn't ought to of came
out leading with his chin anyways."

"A neat
one-two-three," Retief commented, blowing a plume of smoke toward the fallen
fighter. "Let's take a closer look." He parted the brush to look down
at the casualty, who lay sprawled on his back, out cold. The ten-foot-tall
figure was remarkably conservative for a Lumbagan, he thought: only two legs
and arms, a single narrow head with close-set paired eyes, a lone nose and
mouth, an unimpressive chin. The feet, clearly outlined inside rawhide buskins,
featured five toes each, matching the hands' ten fingers.

"What's the
matter?" Smelch said. "You know the mug?" "No, but he bears
a certain resemblance to a colleague of mine."

"Jeez, the poor
guy. Well, beauty ain't everything. Anyways, here's your chance to pick up a
set of dogs at a steal, if you know what I mean." He rammed an elbow
toward Retief's ribs, a comradely gesture capable of collapsing a lung had it
landed.

"I think I'll pass
up the opportunity this time," Retief said, stepping forward to
investigate a strand of barbed wire vaguely discernible in the gloom. It was
one of three, he discovered, running parallel to the trail, firmly attached to
stout posts.

"Retief, we better
blow," Smelch said. "Like Flunt said, nobody but nobody don't want to
poke his noses and stuff in too close around you-know-where."

"Actually, I don't
think I do," Retief corrected his massive acquaintance. "Know where,
I mean."

"Good,"
Smelch said in a relieved tone. "You're safer that way."

"Not afraid, are
you?"

"Yeah."
Smelch nodded his head vigorously. "I hear they got ways of making a guy
regret the day his left leg met up with his right."

"Who says
so?"

"Everybody,
Retief! All the boys been warned to stay clear, once they was outside. . .
." "You mean you've been inside?"

"Sure."
Smelch looked puzzled, an expression involving a rapid twitching of his ears.
"How could I of not been?" "Flunt's been there too?"