The Virgin of Zesh & the Tower of Zanid (21 page)

XII

The sound of the royal pipers and drummer grew louder, and presently the whole procession swung into sight around a bend in one of the paths. First came the three pipers and the drummer. The pipers blew on instruments something like Scottish bagpipes but more complicated; the drummer beat a pair of copper kettle-drums. After them came six tall guards in gilded cuirasses, two with ivory-inlaid crossbows over their shoulders, two with halberds, and two with great two-handed swords.

In the midst of them walked a very tall Krishnan of advanced years, helping himself along with a jeweled walking-stick. He was dressed in garments of considerable magnificence, but put on all awry. His stocking-cap turban was loosely wound; his gold-embroidered jacket had the laces tangled; and his boots did not match. Behind the guards trailed a half-dozen miscellaneous civilians, their clothes rippling in the breeze.

The crowd of Krishnans around the bear cage had dispersed at the first sound of the pipes. Now there were only a few Krishnans in sight, and these were sinking to one knee.

Fallon yanked Fredro’s arm. “Kneel down, you damned fool!”

“What?” Fredro looked out of a red and watery eye from which he had at last dislodged the foreign particle. “Me kneel? I am citizen of P-Polish Republic, good as anybody else . . .”

Fallon half-drew his rapier. “You kneel, old boy, or I’ll bloody well let some of the stuffing out of you!”

Grumbling, Fredro complied. But, as the band went past, the tall, eccentrically clad Krishnan said something sharp. The procession halted. King Kir was staring fixedly at the face of Dr. Julian Fredro, who imperturbably returned the stare.

“So!” cried the king at last. “ ’Tis the cursed Shurgez, come back to mock me! And wearing my stolen beard, I’ll be bound! I’ll trounce the pugging pajock in seemly style!”

Instantly the gaggle of trailing civilians began to close in around the king, all chattering soothing statements at once. Kir, paying them no heed, grasped his staff in both hands and tugged. It transpired that this was a sword-cane. Out came the sword, and the Dour of Balhib rushed at Fredro, point first.

“Run!” yelled Fallon, doing so without waiting to see if Fredro had the sense to follow.

At the first bend in the path, Fallon risked a glance to the rear. Fredro was several paces behind him. After him came Kir; and after the king came pipers, drummer, guards, and keepers strung out along the path and all shouting advice as to how to subdue the mad monarch without committing
lèse majesté.

Fallon ran on. He had been to the zoo only twice during his stay in Zanid and so did not know the ground plan well. Hence when he came to an intersection, and the path ahead seemed to lead between two cages, he kept right on going.

Too late, he realized that this was a service path leading to a locked door in each of the flanking cages; beyond that point, the path ceased. The ground sloped sharply up to a rocky crag that formed the back of both inclosures. One could climb up this slope a few meters only before it became too steep for further ascent. At the topmost point that could be reached, the bars of qong-wood that formed the cage stood only about two meters high, as the slope of the rock inside the cage at this point was too steep for the inmates of the cage to scale.

Fallon looked back. Despite his age, Fredro was still close behind him. King Kir was just galloping into the service way with gleaming blade. There was no way to go but up the slope.

Up Fallon went until he was using his hands. Where a hint of a ledge provided a toe hold, he looked down. Fredro was right below him, and the king was just starting to climb, while the royal retinue ran after and a horde of shouting spectators converged from all quarters. Fallon could of course have drawn his own sword and beaten off the king’s attack; but had he done so, the guards—seeing him in combat with their demented lord—would have plugged him on general principles.

The only way out seemed at this point to be over the fence and into one of the cages. Fallon had not had time to read the signs on the fronts of the cages, and from where he now stood he could see only the backs of these signs. The right-hand cage held a pair of kargáns, medium-sized carnivores related to the larger yeki. These might well prove dangerous if their cage were invaded by strangers. Whatever was in the left-hand cage, it was at the moment withdrawn into its cave at the back.

Fallon grasped the tops of the bars on the left and heaved himself up. Though he was getting on in years, the less-than-Terran gravity, plus the fear of death, enabled him to hoist himself to the top of the fence, which he straddled. He held out a hand to the panting Fredro who, he noticed, still clutched the bundle containing the priestly robes. Fredro passed this bundle to Fallon, who dropped it on the inside of the fence. The bundle struck the nearly level rock at the base of the fence, then tipped over the edge and slid down the smooth slope until it stopped at a ledge.

With Fallon’s help, Fredro also hauled himself to the top, then dropped down inside just as King Kir appeared outside the bars. Clutching a cage bar to keep himself from slipping, the Dour thrust his sword between the bars.

As the blade flicked out, the two Earthmen slid off down the slope as the bundle had done, stopping on the same ledge. Here Fredro collapsed in a heap from exhaustion.

Behind them rose the yell of the mad monarch: “Come back, ye thievish slabberers, and receive your just guerdon!”

The retinue, having sorted itself out from the mere spectators, was climbing up after their king. As Fallon watched, they surrounded Kir, soothing and flattering, until presently the whole crowd was climbing back down the slope and walking out from between the two cages. The guards shooed the curious out of the way, and the royal party set off, the pipers tootling again and the king completely surrounded by keepers.

“Now if we can only get out . . .” said Fallon, looking around for a path.

The rock was too steep and slippery to climb up the way they had come down; but at one end, the ledge ran into a mass of irregular rock that provided means of descent to a point from which it should be an easy jump to the floor of the inclosure.

A little knot of park officials had collected at the front of the cage, and seemed to be arguing the proper method of disposing of their unintended captives, gesticulating at one another with Latin verve. Around and behind them, the crowd of spectators had closed in again following the passage of the king.

Fredro, having gotten his wind back and recovered from his unwonted exertions, rose, picked up the bundle, and started along the ledge saying, “Not good—not good if this was found, yes?” He panted some more. Then: “What—ah—what does ‘shurgez’ mean, Mr. Fallon? The king shouted it at me again and again.”

“Shurgez was a knight from Mikardand who cut off Kir’s beard, so our balmy king has been sensitive on the subject ever since. It never occurred to me that that little goatee of yours would set him off—I say, look who’s here!”

A thunderous snarl made both men recoil back against the rock. Out from the cave at the back of the cage, its six lizardy legs moving like clockwork, came the biggest shan that Fallon had ever seen. The saucer eyes picked out Fallon and Fredro on their ledge.

Fredro cried, “Why did you not pick safer cage?”

“How in Qondyor’s name was I to know? If you’d shaved your beard as I told you . . .”

“He can reach up! What do now?”

“Prepare to die like a man, I suppose,” said Fallon, drawing his sword.

“But I have no weapon!”

“Unfortunate, what?”

The Krishnans in front of the cage yelled and screamed, though whether they were trying to distract the shan or were cheering it on to the assault, Fallon could not tell. As for the shan, it ambled around to the section of the inclosure where the Earthmen were trapped and reared up against the rock so that its head came on a level with the men.

Fallon stood, ready to thrust as far as his limited footing allowed. The park keepers in front were shouting something at him, but he did not dare to take his eyes from the carnivore.

The jaws gaped and closed in. Fallon thrust at them. The shan clomped shut on the blade and, with a quick sideways jerk of its head tore the weapon from Fallon’s hand and sent it spinning across the inclosure. The beast gave a terrific snarl. As it opened its jaws again, Fallon saw that the blade had wounded it slightly. Brown blood drooled from its lower jaw.

The monster drew back its head and gaped for a final lunge—and then a bucketful of liquid fell upon Fallon from above. As he blinked and sputtered, he heard Fredro beside him getting the same treatment, and became aware of a horrid stench, like that of the sheep-dip.

The shan, after jerking back its head in surprise, now thrust it forward again, gave a sniff, and dropped back down on all sixes with a disgusted snort. Then it walked back into its cave.

Fallon looked around. Behind and above him a couple of zookeepers were holding a ladder against the outside of the fence at the point where Fallon and Fredro had scaled it. A third Krishnan had climbed the ladder and emptied the buckets of liquid upon the Earthmen below him. He was now handing the second bucket to one of his mates preparatory to climbing back down the ladder.

Another Krishnan, lower down the slope, called through the bars, “Hasten down, my masters, and we’ll let ye out the gate. The smell will hold yon shan.”

“What
is
the stuff?” asked Fallon, scrambling down.

“Aliyab juice. The beast loathes the stench thereof, wherefore we sprinkle a trace of it upon our garments when we wish to enter its cage.”

Fallon picked up his sword and hurried out the gate, which the keepers opened. He neither knew nor cared what aliyab juice was, but he did think that his rescuers might have been a little less generous in their application of it. Fredro’s bundle was soaked, and the Krishnan paper, which had little water resistance, had begun to disintegrate.

A couple of the keepers closed in, hinting that a tip would be welcome as a reward for the rescue. Fallon, somewhat irked, felt like telling them to go to Hishkak, and that he was thinking of suing the city for letting him be chased into the cage in the first place. But that would be a foolish bluff, as Balhib had not yet attained that degree of civilization where a government allows a citizen to sue it. And they
had
saved his life.

“These blokes want some money,” he said to Fredro. “Shall we make up a purse for them to divide?”

“I take care of this,” said Fredro. “You are working for me, so I am responsible. Is matter of Polish honor.”

He handed Fallon a whole fistful of gold pieces, telling him to give them to the head keeper to be divided evenly among those who took part in the rescue. Fallon, only too willing to allow the honor of the Polish Republic to meet the cost of rescue, did so. Then he said to Fredro, “Come along. We shall have to work hard to get all this stuff memorized.”

Behind them, a furious dispute broke out among the keepers over the division of the money. The Earthmen boarded another omnibus and squeezed into the first seats they found.

For a while, the vehicle clattered westward along the northern part of the Bacha. Presently Fallon noticed that several seats around both Fredro and himself had become vacant. He moved over to where Fredro sat.

Across the aisle, a gaudily dressed Zanidu with a sword at his hip was sprinkling perfume on a handkerchief, which he then held to his nose, glaring at Fallon and Fredro over this improvised respirator. Another craned his neck to look back at the two Earthmen in a marked manner through a lorgnette. And finally a small spectacled fellow got up and spoke to the conductor.

The latter came forward, sniffed, and said to Fallon, “Ye must get off, Earthmen.”

“Why?” said Fallon.

“Because ye be making this omnibus untenable by your foul effluvium.”

“What he say?” said Fredro, for the conductor had spoken too fast in the city dialect for the archeologist to follow.

“He says we’re stinking up his bus and have to get off.”

Fredro puffed. “Tell him I am Polish citizen! I am good as him, and I don’t get off for . . .”

“Oh, for Qarar’s sake stow it! Come along; we won’t fight these beggars over your precious Polish citizenship.” Fallon rose and held out a hand to the conductor, palm up.

“Wherefore?” said the conductor.

“You will kindly return our fares, my good man.”

“But ye have already come at least ten blocks . . .”

“Fastuk!”
shouted Fallon, “I’ve had all the imposition from the city of Zanid today that I can put up with! Now will you . . .”

The conductor shrank back at this outburst and hastily handed over the money.

When they entered Fallon’s house and disposed of their burdens, Fredro asked: “Where is your—ah—jagaini?”

“Away visiting,” said Fallon brusquely, not caring to air his domestic upheavals at this stage.

“Most attractive female,” said Fredro. “Maybe I have been on Krishna so long that greeny coloring looks natural. But she had much charm. I am sorry not to see her again.”

“I’ll tell her,” said Fallon. “Let’s lay out these robes and our clothes, and hope that most of the stench will disappear by the time we have to put them on again.”

Fredro, unfolding the robes, sighed. “I have been widower thirty-four years. Have many descendants—children, grandchildren, and so on for six generation.”

“I envy you, Dr. Fredro,” said Fallon sincerely.

Fredro continued, “But no woman. Mr. Fallon, tell me, how does an Earthman go about getting the jagaini in Balhib?”

Fallon glanced at his companion with a sardonic little smile. “The same way you get a woman on Earth. You ask.”

“I see. You understand, I only wish information as scientific datum.”

“At your age you might, at that.”

They spent the rest of the day rehearsing the ritual and practicing the gliding walk of the Yeshtite priest. For the third meal of the Krishnan day they went out to Savaich’s.

Then they returned to Fallon’s house. Fallon shaved off Fredro’s whiskers, despite the latter’s protests. A light dabbing of green face-powder gave their skins the correct chartreuse tinge. They gave their hair a green wash and glued to their heads the artificial ears and antennae that Mjipa had furnished.