The Warlock Wandering (17 page)

The Wolmen stared, appalled.

Then they leaped to their feet, blasters whipping out from under their cloaks. "Blood!" They howled, "Justice!"

'Treachery!" "Kill!"

But Shacklar vaulted over his bench and landed beside Hwun's body. He yanked off the chief's loincloth. The other 728 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK WANDERING 129

Wolmen howled, outraged—but the howls died, and their eyes bulged as they stared, frozen. For a moment, the room was totally silent.

Then groans welled up from the Wolmen's chests, as they gazed in horror at the smooth curve of a groin without genitals.

Rod shoved himself over to Hwun, whipping out his dagger. He gripped the corpse's hair, and the blade sliced keenly around in a single stroke. Rod peeled back the skin. There was no blood, no fatty tissue—only the bland curve of a beige skull, with four hairline cracks forming a perfect rectangle.

The chiefs still stared, too stunned to move.

Rod jammed the tip of his dagger into one of the cracks and pried. The material resisted for a moment, then the rectangle popped open. Rod stared at a cluster of jewels, gleaming from the darkness inside.

"Molecular circuits, of course," Rod explained. "Each one of those 'jewels' was a computer big enough to run all the utilities for a small city."

He lifted his stein for a swallow, and Cholly asked, "How did you guess he was a robot?"

"Easy," Rod said, with a wry smile. "In fact, I can't understand why I didn't figure it out, for so long. I mean, a Wolman had been murdered, right? But no Wolman was missing. Which meant there was one extra Wolman." He spread his hands. "Couldn't be. And we'd met Hwun. He hadn't shown any emotion at all, except anger—but a very cold anger, if you follow me. That's how he was in everything—very cold, very factual. I suppose it was his lousy logic that sidetracked me."

"Yeah." Yorick scratched his head. "How could a computer 'brain' do such sloppy thinking, as to think you two were guilty just because you were outside the Wall that morning?"

"Especially when there were others out, too." Rod held up a forefinger. "Thaler—and we don't know how many traders."

"Right. So how come Hwun didn't see that suspecting you two, didn't make sense?"

Rod shrugged. "He could only think the way he'd been programmed—'garbage in, garbage out.' But it really should have hit me when Chornoi told us that he didn't show the slightest flicker of response to her flirting, even though every other Wolman she'd met liked flirting so much that it was her guarantee of safety. That really should have made Hwun stand out in my mind. And the real clincher is that he broke off conversation with her to run over to the stone step and greet the sun just before it rose."

Yorick frowned. "So?"

"How could he have known?" Gwen breathed. Yorick sat for a moment. Then he lifted his head slowly. Rod nodded. "His programming included a schedule of sunrises. Yeah, I really should have caught that. But all those factors didn't add up and hit me until Chomoi called him a machine right there in the courtroom—and I realized that explained everything odd about him."

"And that's when yer figured out that the robot committed the murder?" Cholly asked.

Rod nodded again. "Totally possible, if you program it to be an assassin, which is why the laws against doing that are so stiff. But our Futurian buddies don't care too much about laws."

"It's illegal to use blasters to kill people, too," Yorick said, wryly. "But your average murderer can't afford a robot for the job. So how often do you come across a homicidal android?"

"First one I've ever seen," Rod said. "Every other robot was programmed to protect life."

"Was't therefore thou didst not look for a murderer to be a... 'robot,' didst thou term it?"

Rod sat still, then nodded slowly. "Yeah, darling. That's probably why. Know me pretty well, don't you?" He smiled 730 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK WANDERING 131

at Gwen. "And yes, you've got the word right—'robot.'

The word means 'worker,' literally. It's a machine made to look like a human being, or to do the work a human being does."

"Yet how was't this 'robot' did so perfectly resemble the true Hwun?"

"Now we come to the real villain." Rod's mouth tightened. "Somebody very obviously planned the whole thing ahead of time... carefully, too. Someone—probably one of those fake Wolmen Chomoi mentioned—took a picture of Hwun, then sculpted the robot's face to look exactly like his. And put him where he could be sure the robot would be able to find Hwun alone."

"At the Sun-Greeting Place," Yorick interjected. "Then all he had to do was make sure the robot's programming included the right moves for making a fuss after the murder was over."

"So." Chomoi scowled. "Hwun went up to say his moming prayers—the real Hwun, I mean—and as he turned to face the sun, the robot hit him." She shuddered. "At least it was quick."

Rod nodded. "The robot mutilated the face so nobody'd realize he wasn't the real Hwun. Then it took the body to the closest stream, washed off the paint, and brought it to the nearest tribal village, howling for vengeance. Then it just took Hwun's place and did the best it could to make a huge fuss."

Yorick nodded. "Neatly done."

"Very professional," Chomoi agreed. "So who's the bastard who programmed the "robot?"

"I'm afraid we're not to know that," a voice sighed. They turned, startled, as Shacklar stepped up to their table. "It seems my shot burned out the android's memory, along with its vital functions—and, of course, the program with it."

"Not a huge surprise." Rod nodded. "I mean, the program is the most vital function."

"Precisely." Shacklar laid his hand on a chair. "May I join you?"

"Aye, an't please thee," Gwen said.

Rod cast a stem glance at her.

Shacklar pulled out the chair and sat. "Mind you, I'm not apologizing. The monster had to be stopped, stopped instantly—and there was only one way to do it. We're fortunate that the controlling computer was located in its skull, where I placed my first shot."

"Not just 'fortunate.'" Rod smiled. "You were pretty sure that's where it would be, weren't you?"

Shacklar grinned. "Teleology generally wins out. If we make a machine in our own form, we put the computer in the head, simply because that's where our brains are, even though there's more room in the torso. Which, of course, is where my second shot would have gone."

"But, fortunately, it wasn't needed." Rod smiled. "Mind you. General, I'm glad you did it—very glad, considering it Was me the blasted thing was trying to kill." Shacklar acknowledged his support with a nod and a smile. "But I'm afraid we'll never be able to tell what the program was exactly. And, of course, there will be no means of guessing who programmed it, or why."

Rod shrugged. "We can speculate."

"True." Shacklar's smile intensified. "We can always speculate—but we ought to remember that we're merely conjecturing."

"Naetheless," Gwen reminded them, "we are proven innocent."

"Oh, quite true," said the General. "There's absolutely no question of that. And my problem, that of pacifying the Wolmen, is nicely solved."

"Yeah." Yorick grinned. "As soon as the Major showed them what was inside Hwun's skull, they didn't have any trouble believing the robot committed the murder." Shacklar nodded. "And I can turn the 'dead' android over to the Wolmen—which I have done—so that, if they 732 Christopher Stasheff THE WARLOCK WANDERING 133

have any doubts at all, they can take it apart themselves, to see that it really is only a machine."

"Which they will do, of course." Cholly came up behind them and reached across shoulders to set new mugs of ale down for everyone. "And just think how much they'll leam about cybernetics!"

"Oh, I did." Shacklar contemplated his mug with a smile.

"Moreover, by having 'slain' the android myself, I seem to have become something of a celebrity among the Wolmen." Yorick grinned. "'Demon-killer,' huh?" Shacklar nodded.

"Then you've got it all." Rod set his palms down on the table. "Your Wolmar Federation—the prototype for your government of colonists and Wolmen, coming together in two separate bodies to decide a common problem." Shacklar looked up, surprised. "Very perceptive, really, Mr. Gallowglass. Do you do this sort of thing yourself?" Rod opened his mouth, but Gwen answered. "He hath occasion for awareness of it. Then he hath guessed aright?"

"Indeed," Shacklar answered. "In fact, I've had the first draft of the Constitution sitting in my files for several years, waiting for the right moment."

"Which we have managed to trigger for you," Rod inferred. The General nodded. "Copies are currently en route to each of the four Wolman tribes, and the officers and rankers of our Parliament."

"And with your new status," Yorick pointed out, "you don't have to worry too much about whether or not the Wolmen will accept the new Constitution."

Shacklar smiled. "I do seem to have gained an impressive amount of credibility with them, yes."

"He's a demigod," Yorick explained.

"Certainly." Cholly grinned. "It makes the Union all the tighter, to have the whole thing both triggered and solved by somebody who's neither Wolman nor colonist." Rod inclined his head. "We thank you." Chornoi glared. "How could you know whether or not she does?"

Rod just stared, but Gwen said, "Be sure, he doth." Chornoi rounded on her. "Then how come you don't know what he thinks?"

"I do." Gwen shrugged. "In this instance, he spoke first."

"I just wish," Rod went on quickly, "that I knew whether or not the nasty who programmed the robot was trying to sabotage the General-Governor's budding republic, or to assassinate Gwen and myself."

"Why not both?" Yorick spread his hands. Chornoi nodded. "Does it really matter?"

"Well, kind of. If we knew which, we might be able to figure out why."

"A point," the General admitted. "However, I think we'd best stay with the pragmatic aspect of the situation. No matter what their ultimate goal was, old boy, I daresay someone is attempting to kill you."

"I... would... say that was a reasonable guess." Rod gazed into Gwen's eyes as he nodded slowly.

"Therefore," the General said, "it behooves us to get you off-planet as quickly as possible, before your would-be assassins create an incident that does rip Wolmar apart." Rod looked up, with a sour smile. 'To our mutual benefit, eh?"

"Let us say, a point of intersection between our areas of interest."

"Well, no offense, General, but we'd love to leave. Any ideas how to escape from a prison planet?"

"Ah, but we're no longer a prison." Shacklar held up a forefinger. "When the Proletarian Eclectic State of Terra cut us off from the central government, we became an independent entity by default. Of course, I do understand that I have some genuine homicidal maniacs livingrhere, and I wouldn't loose them on the galaxy—nor any of my sadomasochists." He shivered, took a deep breath. "Nor any of the truly dedicated thieves. Still, you must understand that 134 Christopher Stasheff

we do have some export trade in the raw materials for pharmaceuticals..."

"He's talking about pipeweed," Cholly explained.

"Quite. And we've discovered that we can actually make a small profit, trading with other outlying planets."

"Enough to exchange for the few imports you really need?"

Shacklar nodded. "Our main markets are Haskerville and Otranto."

"Otranto?" Rod frowned. "That's a resort planet!" It still had that reputation in Rod's time, five hundred years later. Then his eyes widened. "Oh. That kind of pharmaceutical."

"No, not really." Shacklar smiled. "It's simply that a great many ships berth at Otranto, with pleasure-seekers from all over the Terran Sphere. They also carry a bit of cargo, especially if it's low-bulk—so one of the pharmaceutical companies operates a factory there, bringing in raw materials from several of the outlying planets, extracting their essential chemicals, and shipping them on to the central planets for further processing and distribution. Thus we've managed to maintain some trade."

"The rejects have managed to stay civilized in spite of the in-group, eh?" Rod couldn't help smiling.

"If you must put it in the vulgar cant," Shacklar sighed.

"In fact, it was one of the freighters that brought us word of the PEST coup."

Rod suddenly realized where the conversation was heading. "There wouldn't happen to be a freighter in port right now, would there?"

Shacklar nodded. "On our moon. You must understand that due to our genesis as a prison planet, it can be quite difficult to go from our spaceport to our moon. In fact, there are some very elaborate security procedures left over from the PEST days, which I've seen no reason to relax. However, since I've no records of any of you three being criminals, I've no reason to detain you."

"And every reason to help us move on, huh?" r

"Thou wilt assist us in our travels, then?" Gwen asked.

"I shall be delighted." Shacklar gravely bowed his head. Rod held his breath, screwed up his courage, and took a chance. "Of course, we couldn't agree to go without our guide."

Yorick looked surprised, then grinned. "Yeah. We think we're gonna need her expertise, no matter where we go." Shacklar gave Chomoi a long, assessing gaze. Slowly, he nodded. "Given her history, I don't believe she should have been with us to begin with."

Hope flared in Chomoi's eyes.

"I certainly see no reason to detain you further, mademoiselle." Shacklar inclined his head with grave courtesy.

"And to be certain no other officials misunderstand, I'll equip you with an official pardon."

Rod sat back with a sigh of relief. "General, your cooperation is amazing." He frowned at a sudden thought.

"But there is the little matter of the fare. I'm afraid we don't have enough money for the tickets."

Yorick started to say something, but Shacklar was already gazing off into space and nodding. "I'm certain that could be managed. As I say, we do have something of a trade balance. I believe the Bank of Wolmar will prove willing to advance funds for the next leg of your journey."