John Rackham (2 page)

Which was odd and provocative.
In all the tales Jack had heard, dumb
animals by instinct were fearful of evil.
Except cats, of
course.
The thought cast a doubtful light on his "foul fiend"
theory. And the goblin idea began to crumble too. Whoever heard of a goblin
with a chariot? Jack dropped his gaze to the creature, and leaped back a full
pace as two bright eyes regarded him. The "thing" was trying to sit
up. In an instant he had bowstring to chin, growling:

"Move not further,
whatever you be, or
I’ ll
split you!"

Again
the curiously quiet "voice" came inside him. "I offer no threat,
mean no harm. Nor can your weapon injure me, even though it has great impact.
Do you understand me? There is no need for fear."

Jack
shook his head, not in negation but in a vain attempt to dislodge the
"something" that had sneaked inside. Chills scampered along his spine
again as the full meaning of it came to him. Somehow this creature was reaching
into his mind, without speech or sound! Then
came
anger.

"Can
you also hear what I am thinking, troll?" he demanded. "If so then
should you either strike me dead or yield, for there can be nothing else for
it. Which is it to be?"

"I
thank you for your vocalizations." It was that impossible voice again.
"If you would favor me with a few
more,
and if I
can get this confounded helmet working properly
..."
The manlike thing moved a hand with visible effort and
cautious slowness, did something to one of the bumps on its chin-strap. Jack
heard a crackling garble, with his ears this time. Then the "voice"
resumed as qui-etiy as before. "That should do it. Now, assist me. Help
me. Speak many words. Tell me the names you have for the growing things around
us, for this your land, for yourself and those like you. In this way I will
learn how to vocalize as you do. Speak!"

Jack
hesitated. Overriding all his suspicion and alarm came the feeling that this
curious creature was in trouble, even in pain. His grip on the bowstring
slackened a pound or two. "I understand you but little," he said.
"You ask me to speak, but what shall I say? That I have never seen
anything like you before? Nor the magical chariot in which you come? That much
is the truth, and I think it would be as true for any man I know. As for this land,
it is England, and our Sovereign Lord Richard is king of all. My Earl of Dudley
owns and keeps this part of it. From him I have and hold this plot, here in the
forest men call Shirewood. And men call me Jack Earl Fairfax. What else would
you wish to know?
This growth?
Why, it is grass, and
bushes, and trees I
What
else wouldst expect to find,
in a forest?"

The
walnut-brown mannikin sat very still, eyes bright, and Jack felt the growth of
a new and terrible suspicion. "Can it be that thou art infidel Saracen? I
have heard they be small and dark in the face. I know not how much such might
come here but if that is what thou art then are we truly enemies and I will
spike thee where thou art sitting!" He said it resolutely. That first
shaft of his had spun away, undoubtedly, but he knew with conviction that the
finest armor ever made could not stand against the harsh bite of a cloth yard
with steel beak. He had seen it proven with his own eye. Earl Dudley had
allowed the village hopefuls to practice on a discarded suit of mail of his,
stuffed with straw, and Jack had watched Big Will Downey, for one, drive a
steel-tipped shaft clear through shield, armor, and straw and out the far side.
So he had backing for his confidence and insistence. "Speak now!" he
growled.
"Saracen
...
or not?"

The
goblin-like face moved and creased into what was undoubtedly a smile, showing
startingly white teeth. "I am no Saracen." The voice was real now,
aloud, and strong. "Put away your weapon, Jack Earl Fairfax. You cannot
hurt me with it anyway, and I mean you no harm at all, as I have already told
you. On the other hand it may be that I can do you a small favor, if you will
help me a little in return. Our laws are strictly against any interference with
indigenous primitive cultures, but I think I can contrive a way around those.
Will you help me?"

Jack
hesitated again. The speech had curious qualities, unlike any he had heard, but
the sound was sincere enough. "In what manner can I help?" he
demanded, and as his arms began to protest against the steady strain of the
bow, he added, "Be quick. My patience grows thin!"

"Stretch
it just a little more while I tell you. This harness I wear is designed, among
other things, to control my weight. I am not of this world. I feel crushingly heavy
here. The harness is meant to overcome that, but for some accidental reason it
is not working properly. I can sit, as you see, but I cannot stand up. And I
have to, so that I can reach the proper adjustment controls. It is as simple,
and an inscrutable, as that. You have the look of strength. If you will give me
your hand, help me to stand
up
..
. ?"

The
creature moved its hand again, held it out to Jack in simple offer, harmless
and weaponless. There was something human and compelling about the gesture.
Highly uneasy, Jack released his bowstring, flipped the arrow back over his
shoulder into its quiver, slid his arm through the bow, and jerked it to his
other shoulder, then took
a
cautious pace forward.
Another.
He extended his
hand. The goblin grip was cool, flesh-feeling for all its strange color, and
perfectly passive, making no attempt to cling. Its other hand came. Jack took
that too.

"You want me to lift
you?"

"If
you can, yes."

Jack
scowled. "I can lift three thy size, creature. Hold fast now." He
settled his work-hardened fingers around slim wrists, braced himself, and
heaved. His shoulder muscles creaked. The mannikin was as heavy as solid leadl
"Come up
I"
he grunted, putting forth
effort, and the goblin moved, strained with him, scrambled heavily and awkwardly
to his feet, swaying.

"I thank you, Jack
Earl Fairfax. Loose my hands now."

As
Jack opened his fingers the little man moved, very fast now, snatching at the
belt, dabbing and twisting at the lumps and bumps, mumbling to himself
furiously. Then, suddenly and dramatically, he grew a full hand-span taller,
and a great many creases and folds smoothed out and vanished from his nut-brown
body. Where it has been gross and fat it was now firmly lean and not at all
gnarled. The glossy helmet and copper spikes tilted back as the small man
looked up and grinned cheerfully.

"My thanks to you, Jack Earl Fairfax.
It would be stupid of me to expect you to
understand in detail what has happened, but this much I am sure will be clear
to you. This harness, as I said, is designed to overcome excess weight, but the
fools who built it never thought that
a
time might come when the man in it would be so crushed down by his
weight that he would overflow and obstruct the controls.
As
you saw.
Such an experience does very little good for a man's guts, you
may believe me. I feel internally mangled. But at least I can walk now."

"Walk!
Jack echoed puzzledly, having comprehended something less than half of what he
had heard. "Whither wouldst thou walk? Who or what are you? What is your
purpose here? Are you perhaps an emissary from some other land?"

"You ask good questions, friend. No,
don't go for that weapon again, if you please. My name will mean as little to
you as yours to me, but you may have it. I am Jasar-am-Bax, of the planet
Willan. I am
an out-scout
of the Salviar Federation
Fleet
...
but never mind all that.
Call me Jasar. I greet you, Jack." He extended his lean hand again and
Jack gripped it automatically. The small man chuckled. "And that's a
knotty one for all our savants. Why is it that every known humanoid life-form
has this friendly greeting gesture in some shape or other? A hand is a
wonderful device, thafs sure. Yours is strong. What is your age, Jack? By that
I mean are you a full-grown individual of your kind? It is my impression that
you are
a
youngling.
Immature.
No offense, now!"

"I
am
a
man!" Jack growled. "You speak deviously and strange. You
answer my questions in words that I cannot lay hold on. I think perhaps you
are
a
troll!"

"A quasi-magical entity?
Yes, I suppose that must be
a
possibility, to you. But it is wrong. I am as
fleshly material as
yourself
. As for your questions,
yes, in a kind of way I am an emissary.
A scout and perhaps
something a bit more than that.
And when you ask where I want to walk
to-—" Jasar cast a speculative eye around the glade—"that is
a
good question indeed. I need"—the
needle-sharp eyes came suddenly back to Jack—"I need a decently flat area
either of stone or with a solid stone substrate, for a base on which to build.
Is there a bigger clearing than this nearby?
And a source of
water?
I need water." For a moment the cheerful goblin smile
twisted to some inner twinge. "I need to rest, and eat, and drink, and
examine myself. That fall, and the damned extra weight
...
I fear I have dislocated something inside."

This
at least got straight through to Jack's bemused mind. "You are in
pain," he said. "Hurt, hungry, and weary. You have traveled far, need
rest. Do I understand you aright?"

"The simple and direct approach."
Jasar nodded wryly. "You are quite
correct. I need food, and rest. I need your help again."

This
Jack could grasp efficiently, but not very cheerfully. "We have little
food to spare, I fear. But my home is not far, and my mother is skilled in
herbs and simples, the equal of any leech or sawbones. And there is water, as
much as you need. Will you come?" He gestured to a pathway, then caught
back his arm and swung it. "What of this chariot of yours?"

"My ship?
There's no need to worry about that. It will
follow at
a
discreet distance. Lead the way, and I will
try to match my steps to your long legs."

Jack
resolutely ignored the bits he couldn't grasp, started off to the pathway,
then remembered Brownie and clicked his tongue at her, snapping his fingers.
She tossed her head, snorted, and began
a
slow
and deliberate plod into the homeward track.

"Ah!
A domestic species," Jasar observed. "What do you call it, and what
does it yield?" It was only the start of
a
virtual hail of questions that Jack thought, privately, to be silly.
What sort of man was it that didn't know a cow, or
a
squirrel, or that there were many different kinds of trees? And how
could a man in visible pain, and struggling to keep up with a stride half as
long again as his own,
be
so infernally inquisitive
about everything? Jasar's dagger-keen eyes seemed to miss nothing at all
...
except the inexplicable behavior of
that rod-and-facet "ship" of his. No sooner had they parted from it
about ten paces,
then
it lifted from the grass by
itself and followed, just as Jasar had said. Even now, as they threaded their
way along the narrow track, it followed like a well-trained dog, crackling its
way through the overhanging bushes and branches.

"You
have a fair world here." Jasar began to show signs of strain but his voice
was strong and sincere. "The soil is generous and the sun warm. On my world,
so the records declare, it was once very like this, but our soil has long since
lost its fertility and our sun is bleak. But
...
it is my world and I fight to defend it. That's the oldest law of the cosmos,
and one that you are just as subject to as anyone else. We have that much in
common, Jack."

"Do you too come to
fight the Saracen, Jasar?"

"Not
your kind,
no
. I have enemies of my own, foes that I
hope you will never meet. The front that I fight on is much too vast for you to
comprehend. In fact it's a sight too big for me to grasp, except as a symbol,
and there's little blood in a symbol. Jack, if your home is very much farther I
fear I'm going to have to ask you to pause for a
...
but this is it now, isn't it?"